#th: film feature

[aquamanandfriends]

"I don't know, most teens are pretty damn heartless," Rafael countered with a knowing look. He sighed and nuzzled his nose against her neck, holding Carmen close. "I'm not sure... I just don't want to mess up and push her away. If she thinks we don't trust her she'll share even less-- but I'm not sure if we should trust her exactly. Maybe we do need to just sit her down and have a little talk about going out and the rules." Elaine hadn't been this social, at least not in the same way. It was always easier when the girls had friends over, they could keep an eye on them that way.

I just got a little worked up, it's hard to leave the twins inside. Natalie sat up a little to sip her tea, fighting the urge to be too clingy with Azula.

"I'm sure they'll be good in the morning too, you showed them where everything is. You're over-prepared." Tim added before sipping on his tea, "This is perfect love thank you," he squeezed Elaine's knee.

"I know, I just don't want your parents having to deal with them when they wake up," Natalie couldn't help but feel bad. Letting go was hard, even if it was just for a moment, she felt selfish and she had no right to be.

"I think it's the best card you have to play. You think she'll say no when you're sporting that 'I've missed you' face? She's a teenager; she's not heartless." Carmen sighed, her smile falling. It was stressful when the girls were younger and not self-sufficient, but somehow easier to be the ones they depended on. "How do you want to play it, then?"

Five minutes to boil, five minutes to steep...plus a 15-minute conversation? Azula asked Natalie, perfectly threaded brow raising. She hadn't worried about the extended absence--Elaine and Natalie deserved a chance to catch up--but she couldn't help tease her, wrapping an arm around Natalie the moment she was close.

Elaine slid into her spot beside Tim and nuzzled his forearm, sitting up only so he could drink his tea without the risk that she'd jostle him. "He's right. The twins are with my parents; they're safe. Rest."

[cienie-isengardu]

MK1 as it is except this is Johnny's cinematic version of events and he take some artistic license here and there...

[dbphantom]

Holy shit boys we made it to single digits

[starkeysbunny]

awards season

pairing - drew starkey x interviewer!reader

summary - just bc drew is so fuckin flirty with everyone he talks to including interviewers.. like it looks like he falls in love w them every time. #whenisitmyturn. anyway. so drew being flirty as hell with a sweet interviewer on the oscar’s carpet <33 also i’m a film major and just love film so i got this idea in honor of awards seasonnn

warnings - flirting, lots of innuendoes 😝

“three, two, one.. and action.” the camera man says as he starts rolling. i smile brightly in my baby pink silk gown, my hair cascading down my shoulders, makeup perfectly done for the big night.

“hi vanity fair, i’m y/n and i’m your host tonight for the biggest night in film. welcome to the oscar’s! we had an amazing year in film, leading to a memorable awards season. we saw babygirl, wicked, nosferatu, queer, a complete unknown, the substance, and so many more.” i continue my introduction as the stars start to arrive.

i had been doing publicity and journalism in the film industry for about two years now and i got my first big gig tonight. the oscar’s with vanity fair. i mean, i couldn’t believe it. all the connections i could make tonight, it could be my big break.

but what was really in the back of my mind? the fact that my celebrity crush had been at the forefront of award season this year among many new break out actors.

drew starkey.

and i was scheduled to interview him in just a few minutes. safe to say, i was trying not to freak out.

i start off with an interview with nicole kidman, talking about babygirl. as it wraps up, she walks off to the next interviewer and i turn to the camera.

“okay, now that we just interviewed mother i’m not sure if anything will live up to it!” i gush with a smile. i look down the carpet and see who’s arriving next.

daniel craig and luca gaudagnino.

was i sweating? i think im sweating. shit.

this meant drew wasn’t far behind.

i turn to the camera, plastering a grin on my face. “okay, next we have drew starkey. he started with college student films, leading into small roles in feature films like love simon, then to his breakout netflix debut with the hit show outer banks. and now, he’s here for his first awards season run for his A24 film queer!” i introduce, as the camera pans over to him.

my jaw nearly drops.

he was wearing a navy blue loewe suit with a white button up under, and a navy blue bow tie. his hair was messy, his grown out—almost mullet—style complimented by the scruff on his jaw. he had sunglasses on, and as he approached the paparazzi, he pushed them up into his hair.

fans scream behind the barricade, as he smirks with a menacing grin, waving at a few of them.

he takes photos with the paparazzi, even flirting with a few of them.

i’ve seen his past interviews and you can tell he’s a bit of a flirt. which just makes my nerves peak even more.

i watch as he finishes with the paparazzi. his publicist comes to his side, pointing out me and the camera man next to me.

he grins, nodding slightly at us as he walks over.

“hey.” he says softly, sticking his hand out for me to shake. “i’m drew.” his blue eyes pierce into mine. he didn’t even glance at the camera yet, his focus purely on me.

“h-hi, drew. i’m y/n, and we’re with vanity fair.” i introduce, reaching my hand out to shake his. his much bigger hand enveloped mine, shaking lightly.

he lets go and glances at the camera, quirking a brow. “hey, vanity fair.” he chuckles lowly. he looks back at me, his tongue licking over his lips as he looks over my silk dress, then back up to my eyes.

god.

“so. drew, your first oscar’s!” i begin with a grin as i hand him a microphone for him to speak into. “are you nervous?”

he chuckles lightly as he looks down at the mic. it’s usually the microphone i would use, but we had a malfunction before the carpet and had to switch up the microphones.

“yeah, microphone malfunction, ignore it.” i chuckle softly. “yours is bigger than mine.”

he grins, his tongue poking to the inside of his cheek. “oh yeah?”

my eyes widen and i swallow roughly. a small, nervous chuckle escapes me. i should’ve worded that differently. shit.

he licks his lips and his eyes slightly squint as he notices my nerves at the slip up. “i am nervous. about all this.” he says softly. “terrified actually i- uh..” he trailed off, grinning almost like he was holding back.

i raise my eyebrows. “what is it?” i ask softly.

he looks back at me, “i’m just not sure if i should admit to a pretty girl like you that i called my mom in the hotel to talk me down before i got here.”

my cheeks tinge pink as he calls me pretty. focus. i chuckle softly. “no, hey we all need a little mom encouragement sometimes. it’s my first oscar’s too, so we’ll get through it together.”

he grins. “yeah, i hope so. sounds fun.”

i press my lips together in a giddy smile as i glance down at my cards. “so, you’ve just taken on your first big art house type film, queer. the tabloids have said that many directors had their eyes on you for the 2024 film run. what stuck out to you about this script?”

he smiles softly, his eyes focused in on mine like i hung the stars and moon as i asked the question. “great question, yeah, i mean.. luca.” he chuckles. “luca is someone i’ve wanted to work with as long as i could remember. so, i guess that was definitely the surface level..” he moves his hands as he explains. “.. attraction, i suppose. but, i also love the book, william s burroughs, i just fell in love with the story. playing eugene is something i’ll always remember.”

i grin softly, watching as his eyes light up as he explains. “that’s beautiful.” my hand comes to his bicep over his suit jacket sweetly. “i’m glad that your first big film was such a memorable experience. how has the awards season been, press and everything? was it different from press tours you’ve done in the past?”

it felt like we were having our own conversation. the camera wasn’t right next to us. microphones weren’t right below our lips. flashes and shouts weren’t heard in the background.

“oh yeah,” he nods. “for sure. film festivals were obviously something i’d never done before so that was a big adjustment. then of course, big nights like these. the emmy’s, oscar’s, and so on.. it’s been a journey, for sure.” he chuckles. “but daniel and luca have been so guiding and helpful through my uncertainties, i guess.” he smiles.

his publicist taps him on the shoulder and nods her head forward, signaling it was time to move on to the next interview. he politely smiles and turns to me, handing me the mic. he reaches in and hugs me—which i was not expecting.

i grin as he embraces me and pulls back, his hands resting on my forearm, near my elbow. “hey, i hope to see you inside, yeah? it was really great talking to you, y/n.”

i smile softly. “yeah, you too, drew. good luck tonight!” i wave as he walks off.

he turns over his shoulder and winks as he slips into his next interview. i let out a huff of breath, turning back to the camera. “wow. did anyone else just fall in love with him?” i joke.

not joking, actually.

“next we have..”

the red carpet went on for the next hour, interviewing actors and actresses, directors, and other talent walking the carpet. once the carpet concluded, my camera crew of two and i, were escorted inside the ceremony.

vanity fair was among the few only press outlets allowed inside the actual ceremony of the oscar’s.

we were escorted to the press section of the theatre, a small boxed off area by the stage, to the side of all the seats where the stars sat. we set up our little corner, the cameras arranging themselves as i fix my hair, adjusting my mic.

i look over at the audience as we wait for the show to begin, spotting drew almost immediately. and he was already looking at me.

he grins, standing from his seat and gingerly excusing himself past through the rows of actors. and he walks toward the press box.

our press box.

—

part 2 w… smut possibly ??? 😝😝

[pedroscowgirl]

The Lie Detector Test

Hugh jackman x reader!actress

Warnings!!!: minors dni!!

mentions of: daddy issues , age gap (reader is in their 20s), smut (duh), oral!receiving, p in v, creampie (wrap it up), semi-public sex?, pet names (baby,princess), fluff at the end and lots of romantic kisses

lmk if i missed some!!

Words: 4.3K (i went a little crazy cuz I'm so down bad for this man omg)

A/N: This is the first time in years that I've written a fanfiction so pls be kind 🙈

You had just finished filming the latest blockbuster, and the studio had arranged a promotional event to build hype for the movie. The concept was unique and promised to be a hit: a lie detector test featuring you and Hugh Jackman, your co-star. The aim was to show a fun and candid side of both of you, offering fans an intimate glimpse into your personalities.

You remembered your first day on set with Hugh vividly. It was a sunny morning, and you were a bundle of nerves, excited and anxious about working with such a celebrated actor. Hugh had approached you with his trademark warmth, extending a hand and offering a reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m Hugh. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your work,” he said, his voice carrying a genuine note of friendliness.

You shook his hand, grateful for his easygoing nature. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Hugh. I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

From that moment on, your chemistry on set was undeniable. Hugh’s professionalism and charm made every scene enjoyable, and your natural rapport translated effortlessly on screen. Between takes, you found yourselves sharing stories and jokes, the lines between your characters and real life blurring as you formed a close friendship. But behind your confident exterior, you felt a tug of nerves whenever he was near. Hugh Jackman wasn't just any actor; he was the embodiment of the older, charismatic figures you'd found attractive for as long as you could remember.

You had always known you had some form of daddy issues. Growing up with an emotionally absent father, you had a tendency to be drawn to older, authoritative figures. Hugh fit that mold perfectly, and being around him made you acutely aware of your attraction to him. His deep voice, his kind eyes, the way he carried himself with such ease...it all made your heart race.

Fast forward to the day of the lie detector test, the studio was buzzing with excitement. The set was designed to look sleek and modern, with a large, imposing lie detector machine at the center. Cameras were positioned to capture every angle, ensuring that no reaction or subtle expression would be missed by the audience.

You took your seat across from Hugh, who was already connected to the machine by Lou, the lie detector specialist. The studio lights reflected off his charismatic smile as he settled in, ready for the challenge.

“Ready for this, Hugh?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement and the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Just go easy on me, alright?”

You picked up the first question card, the icebreaker questions designed to set a light-hearted tone. You both took turns answering questions about your favorite movies, childhood memories, and behind-the-scenes antics from the movie set. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and playful teasing, showcasing the easy relationship that had developed between you two.

Then, feeling a mischievous urge, you decided to go off-script.

“Okay, Hugh,” you said, leaning forward with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. “How do you feel about people on the internet calling you ‘daddy’ or 'father'?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the unexpected question. He took a moment to think before answering, “Well, I do have kids., so technically , I am a father.”

You tilted your head and smirked, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hugh chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. “Well, I don’t mind i guess” he admitted, glancing at Lou for confirmation.

Lou looked at the lie detector’s readings and nodded. “Truthful,” he confirmed.

“Good to know,” you said with a playful wink. “That was actually not a question on the cards. I just wanted to give the people with daddy issues what they want. You're so welcome.”

Hugh laughed again, biting his lip as he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You felt a thrill at the way he was looking at you, the playful banter taking a more intimate turn. “Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, your voice softening. Your heart pounded harder, realizing just how much he affected you. You could feel your palms sweating and hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your hands as you reached for the next question card.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, with flirtatious comments and lingering glances exchanged between questions. Each time Hugh's gaze lingered on you a bit longer, your heart raced a little faster. You tried to focus on the questions, but your mind kept drifting to the way he looked at you, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

----------------------------------------------------

As the interview came to an end, you both stood up, removing your microphones. The studio crew began to pack up, the hustle and bustle of the set slowly fading into the background. Hugh caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Hey, why don’t we head to the dressing room? We can talk more privately there,” he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something more.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Sure, sounds good.”

You both made your way through the winding corridors of the studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. As you approached the dressing rooms, the anticipation grew, every glance exchanged between you filled with unspoken tension.

Hugh opened the door to his dressing room, allowing you to step inside first. The room was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a small table with snacks and drinks. You took a seat, trying to calm your racing heart as Hugh closed the door behind him, shutting out the world outside.

He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You were great today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He walked over to the small table and picked up a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Here, have some water. You’ve earned it.”

You accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. The cool water was refreshing, helping to steady your nerves. Hugh sat down across from you, his gaze never wavering.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning playful, “I think you might be even more captivating off-screen than on. It’s quite a talent.”

You choked on your water, caught off guard by his flirtatious comment. Coughing slightly, you set the bottle down and tried to regain your composure. “Thanks, Hugh,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushing. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hugh chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping I wasn’t being too forward.” He paused, letting his eyes sweep over your outfit. “That dress, by the way, is incredibly sexy. It’s been hard to concentrate all day.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. “I—thank you,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken desire.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You really do look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with that sexy australian accent. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all day.”

You felt a thrill at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice, made it hard to breathe. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hugh,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “I��m glad you think so,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your breath catch. You could feel the tension building between you, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hugh," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He didn't reply, but his eyes said everything. He was as caught up in this moment as you were. His other hand came up to cup your face, holding you gently but firmly. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic pull drawing you closer. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes, seeking permission, waiting for a sign.

You gave the slightest nod, a silent invitation. That was all he needed.

Slowly, as if savoring every second, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters. The contact was gentle, almost feather-light, but it sent a wave of heat through your body. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, growing more confident and demanding. His lips moved against yours with a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire within you. You responded eagerly, your body pressing closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer still. You could feel the strength in his grip, the possessive way he held you making your pulse quicken. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, filled with unspoken promises and undeniable chemistry.

When he pulled you closer, you could feel his bulge pressing against you, the sensation igniting a fire deep within. A rush of heat surged through your body, making you aware of how much you craved him. Every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation, and the space between you crackled with unspoken desire.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. The intensity of it made your knees weak, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for more. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, hard and demanding against your stomach, and it only fueled your longing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, to feel every part of him.

Your breath quickened, each inhale filled with the intoxicating scent of him. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, sliding down his chest, over the taut muscles, until they reached his belt. Your fingers fumbled in your eagerness, trembling with the intensity of your desire. The thought of what was to come made your heart race, and you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed him.

Just as you began to loosen his belt, Hugh’s hand covered yours, halting your movements. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the dominance in his touch made you shiver. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Nu uh, not yet, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and filled with a fierce determination that made your pulse quicken even more. “I want to please you first.”

The promise in his words made your heart skip a beat, and the anticipation of what he was about to do was almost too much to bear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you let out a soft whimper, the need inside you growing more insistent.

His other hand slid down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and you arched into him, silently begging for more. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and focus, made you feel like the center of his world.

“Hugh, please,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to savor every moment.”

Hugh's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped your thighs, lifting you with an effortless strength that made your breath hitch. He set you down on his desk, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin. The room felt charged, every second stretching out as his intense gaze bore into you. Your heart raced, anticipation and desire coiling in your belly. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I take a look at your panties and take them off?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with intent.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you bit your lip, your body responding to his every word. You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted, but he wasn't satisfied with your silent answer. "I need words, baby," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. His eyes held a command that you couldn't ignore. "Yes," you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to take them off, please."

A slow smile spread across his face, sending a thrill through you. He slid his hands under your dress, fingers brushing against your thighs as he lifted you slightly. With deliberate, teasing movements, he peeled your black lace panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. The air felt electric, every touch sending sparks along your skin. His eyes roamed over your now-bare form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The question made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. You met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "No," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "My granny underwear is in the washing machine." The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and oddly intimate.

Hugh's grin widened, his eyes darkening with amusement and desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think I prefer the lace," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you. The tension between you was unbearable, an unspoken promise of what was to come.

He knelt before you, his eyes dark with hunger and intent. The anticipation made your breath quicken as he placed his strong hands on your thighs, gently parting them and lifting them onto his broad shoulders. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, filled with a confident, almost predatory desire. He paused for a moment, giving you a sexy look that sent shivers down your spine, before dipping his head between your legs.

The first touch of his mouth against you was like nothing you'd ever felt. You gasped, your body arching towards him as his warm breath and skillful tongue explored your most sensitive spots. He started slowly, teasing you with soft strokes, his lips and tongue moving with practiced expertise. The sensation was incredible, each flick and swirl driving you wild. When he began to suck on your clit, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure so intense it felt like fire coursing through your veins.

You'd never been with an older man before, and the thrill of his experience, his confidence, heightened every sensation. His touch was commanding yet tender, a perfect balance that made you melt under his ministrations. His tongue moved in amazing patterns, drawing you closer to the edge with every motion. The excitement of this new experience mixed with the raw pleasure, making your moans louder and more frequent.

Then, without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you. They filled you perfectly, curling just right to hit that sweet spot. The sudden intrusion made you gasp and clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. As you tugged, a deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and you felt a building pressure, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The combination of his skilled mouth and the fullness of his fingers was overwhelming, pushing you towards the brink. You could feel his own enjoyment in the way he groaned against you, his voice low and resonant, spurring you on. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate and precise, as if he knew exactly what you needed, where to touch to make you come undone.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you couldn't hold back. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your hands gripping his hair even tighter. His fingers and tongue moving faster, more insistent. The feel of his mouth and hands on you, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, and then you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The release was overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling. He continued to pleasure you through it all, his touch gentle but unrelenting, until you were spent and utterly satisfied.

As you came down from the high, your breaths ragged, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. The sight of him, lips glistening with your pleasure, sent a final shiver down your spine.

You were still catching your breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, when Hugh pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. The sensation was intoxicating; you could taste yourself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you'd just shared. His fingers trailed back to your core, seeking to reignite the fire, but you pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Please, Hugh," you panted, your voice laced with desperation. "I'm begging you, I need to feel you inside me right now, or I'm going to go crazy." The urgency in your voice was undeniable,your body aching with unfulfilled desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound a dark, velvety caress that made your skin tingle. "Oh, my poor princess can't wait to have Daddy inside her," he teased, his words dripping with amusement and lust. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite your lip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Oh, so you really like being called Daddy, huh?" you purred, a teasing edge to your voice. "Well, I can arrange that for you." Your words were a playful challenge, a promise of more to come.

Hugh's lips curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled you into another heated kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a possessive intensity. As he kissed you, his hands deftly moved to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle and the rustle of fabric sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You watched with bated breath as he stripped off his pants and shirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. When your eyes fell on his impressive length, a gasp escaped your lips, louder than you'd intended. The sight of him, so big and ready, made your heart race and your core throb with need.

Hugh noticed your reaction and smirked, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll take our time." He reached out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, the touch tender in contrast to the raw passion between you.

As he stood before you, your eyes roamed over his body, drinking in the sight of his defined abs and broad, muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare at how well-built he was. "God, Hugh," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "You're so sexy. I can't believe how ripped you are for your age." Your hand traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the hard planes of his torso. "These abs, this body... it's incredible." You looked up at him, biting your lip, the admiration in your eyes unmistakable.

He laughed and positioned himself between your legs, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You felt his tip graze your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn't help but moan, your body arching towards him, craving more. He paused, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and desire. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please." Your voice was laced with anticipation and desperation, the need for him overwhelming.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Hugh began to push inside you. The stretch was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you inch by inch. Your nails dug into his biceps, your fingers curling around the hard muscle as you adjusted to his size. "Oh my god, Hugh," you moaned, your voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so big."

A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Call me Daddy, baby," he murmured, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Daddy," you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The sound seemed to fuel him, his hips snapping forward, burying himself fully inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that left you gasping.

As Hugh began to thrust in and out, setting a rhythm that drove you wild, the intensity of the moment heightened. The pleasure was almost too much, your back arching, head tilting back. Hugh noticed, concern flickering in his eyes. He reached up, cradling the back of your head with one strong hand, his touch gentle and protective. "Easy, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Don't want you hurting yourself against the wall." The tender gesture made your heart flutter even as your body surged with lust.

He continued to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection between you was electric, every movement synchronized, every breath shared. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. The pleasure built with each stroke, an intoxicating crescendo that left you breathless and begging for more.

Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to rub tight, precise circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. Your breath hitched, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea and a prayer. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, more demanding, driving you wild with need.

"Come for me, princess," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his deep, commanding voice and the skillful movements of his fingers and hips was too much. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it left you shaking.

Hugh groaned, the sound low and primal, as he felt you tighten around him. His movements became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. With a deep moan, he followed you over the edge, his release hot and deep inside you. The sensation sent a final wave of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms faded, Hugh leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips gentle and tender. The touch was a sweet contrast to the raw, passionate encounter you'd just shared. His hands caressed your skin, soothing you as you both came down from the high, the connection between you lingering in the air.

The room was silent except for your labored breaths, the intensity of the moment leaving you both in awe. Hugh pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft whispers of comfort and affection made you feel cherished and adored. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy that left you both craving more.

Just as you were catching your breath, a loud knock echoed from the door, making you both jump. You barely had time to react before you heard Ryan's voice, muffled but clear. "Hey, guys, next time be more subtle, okay?" His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the hint of amusement. You blushed furiously, burying your face in Hugh's chest as he chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Noted," Hugh called back, his voice laced with humor. He looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter next time, huh, princess?" He stroked your cheek tenderly, his expression softening. The playful moment broke the tension, leaving you both laughing softly, the bond between you stronger than ever.

[maiamore]

STAR-STRUCK

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 5k

Summary: You’re a fresh-faced production assistant for known action star Joel Miller. He’s not quite what you expected–but neither are you.

Tags: actor!joel x production assist reader, action film set, no use of y/n, rough/dom Joel, use of the word ‘kid’, mirror sex, rough sex, unprotected pinv, mentions of injuries & violence, Joel does his own stunts, public sex, bdj (big-dicked-Joel), Joel is not nice in this fic, more untagged read at your own discretion A/N: oof this a long one. also! i swear i've seen something similar relating to the mandalorian reference. if anyone knows the fic, pleaaaase let me know

READER’S TATT/PIERCINGS-SPO

This wasn’t what you’d imagined your life to look like. 

For the majority of your adult life, you’d clung to a glittering, idealistic vision of your future. You’d blame it on those countless movie marathons with your dad–the late nights, the worn-out couch and the satisfying click of the DVD player setting the stage for your ambitions. You’d dreamed of being a part of the magic. The glitz, the glamour, the art of it all. 

Directors like Ridley Scott, Martin Scorsese, John McTiernan captured your adolescent heart, fanning the flames of your Hollywood dreams.

You knew coming into this that it was going to be far from easy. God knows you’d paid your dues living in NYC after having moved from your small town–sharing a tiny shoebox of an apartment with three others, taking multiple part-time gigs, hustling to finally land a Production Assistant (PA) role.

And now here you were. Accommodations comped, flown to Atlanta for the shoot of some action movie you weren’t even allowed to know the title of thanks to the NDA you’d signed.

It was suspenseful, sure, but not in the sexy, thrilling way you’d imagined. More like in the “what fresh hell did I sign up for” sort of way.

“So you’ll be handling scheduling, coordinating, and helping the stylists. And making sure his overall well-being is met.”

You shuffled behind Jonah, the PA you were supposedly replacing. It was nearly overwhelming. Already built streets, custom housings, all wrapped up in a larger than life sound stage. Everyone was in their own world, working on their own tasks.

Normal people might have felt small and unseen. But you? You were still star-struck. You could be a part of something so much bigger than you, and that thought excited you. 

“7am every morning. You’ll need to be on standby to help Joel with everything he needs. So here’s the schedule.” 

More papers were being shoved to you, your arms slowly vanishing beneath an ever-growing stack. You scanned it, eyes twitching in dread. 

Every fifteen damned minutes had its own designation. Was this a movie or a military operation?

“Right! Got that. So…who exactly am I…” You squint at the bolded text on freshly printed paper, still warm to touch. “Wiping sweat at 16:45…for?”

Jonah halts mid-strut, turning back to you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “What…do you mean? You don’t know who you’re working for?”

“I do.” You shoot back defensively. “Well–okay. No. Not really. I was given an NDA, so I’m–”

“It was a yes or no question, hun.”

Suddenly, you were grateful to J-hole leaving. Not so much of replacing his long ass list of endless tasks, though. 

He stops before the stylist’s station, gesturing to a cluttered board, displaying headshots and costume references for your apparent “boss.” As you step closer, your breath catches in your throat.

No way. No fucking way. 

“Joel fucking Miller?”

Your fingers, almost acting on their own, plucked one of the profile shots from the board. Joel’s broad frame was practically sculpted.  His Special Forces uniform taut over his muscles, probably for the character he was playing. Another close-up featured his face smudged with faux grime and fake injuries, his expression hardened and grim. 

And then…there were the less clothed test shots. Your gaze betrayed you, dipping to the dark trail of neatly trimmed curls disappearing beneath his belt.

Your head snapped up so fast it was a miracle you didn’t pull a muscle, as though the sheer force of willpower could exorcise the horny demon possessing you.

Jonah grins at your obvious surprise. Sighing dreamily at the profile shots of him, side views and costume shots.“Yep. Now. It isn’t going to be a problem with you now is it? We had to fire the old girl cuz’ she attempted to–nevermind. Don’t wanna get into that. It was a whole debacle. You can look it up in the files under the Miller versus Nancy lawsuit.”

You glanced at Jonah, confusion knitting your brow before returning the photo to the desk. Honestly? You probably wouldn’t have blamed this Nancy. Joel had been the blueprint for your sexual awakening. 

As fucked as it was. Considering he was closer in age to your dad than your own.

Watching him star in films by the greats back in high school had left you fantasizing, his smoldering intensity seared into your brain. God. You were going to need the entire night to mentally prepare for this.

“You tellin’ that story again?” The voice behind you sent a shiver up your spine–it was the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a thick yarned blanket on a cold night. And the kind of voice you fantasized about when you were grinding against your pillow.

You froze, every damned nerve on high alert. Turning slowly.

Joel Miller stands there. Resurrected from the photos itself.

He was dressed like he’d just walked off a lazy Sunday pickup game. Grey athletic shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing sturdy, hairy legs that somehow made him seem even more rugged. A black t-shirt clung to his frame, dampened at the collar with sweat. Navy cap sitting snug on his head.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from shamelessly dragging your eyes from the damp curls peeking out at the nape of his neck to his thighs. 

He scratches his stubbled jaw, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. They paused, and you realized–a little too late–that he’d caught you gawking.

Joel nudges his head towards you. “This her?”

Jonah nods, handing Joel a call sheet. “All new and sparkly.”

He looks you over–not in a predatory way, but like he was cataloging every detail. Dark and steady. And it lands on your shirt. For a split second his brows lifted, just barely.

“You watch that one?” 

Your brain stutters and you look down, realizing you’d stupidly worn your Mandalorian graphic tee. His face–or well, Din Djarin's helmeted face, was plastered across your chest along with the iconic Star Wars logo.

“Oh! Um. yeah,” you stammer, tugging the hem of the cotton as if the ink would magically disappear. 

Great. You meet the man you had dozens of posters of and you were stuttering like a fucking idiot.

“Big fan. Of the show. And, um, the movies. And, you know, your–” Joel holds up a palm, silencing your rambling. “Right.” He sounded amused, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “...‘preciate it.”

Joel never liked change. It was ironic, given his line of work. An actor, in its nature, had him slipping into new roles and personas on a constant basis. But no matter how many characters he played, he'd preferred the familiarity of a constant crew. 

So the news that Jonah was leaving and that his replacement was a fresh out of film school rookie had Joel grumbling for days.

Then he saw you.

Maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you were seconds away from fainting. Or maybe it was the shirt. That damn shirt.

You clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about dressing for long hours on set. Instead of the usual hoodie and less than glamorous foam sneakers combo, you were rocking a cropped baby tee stretched taut across your chest. 

His gaze dipped, almost involuntarily, taking in the rest of you. The way your bootcut jeans sat low and snug on your hips—to the bunch of keys and a juicy grape chapstick hung on a carabiner attached to your belt loop. 

When you shifted nervously, the movement sent a glint of light flickering from your stomach. A silver charm, shaped like a star, dangled from your belly button. He caught himself mid-thought, forcing his eyes back to your face, but the damage was done.

You weren’t as innocent as you looked. He’d figured out that much. 

Your fuck-ups hadn’t gotten you fired. Not yet, at least. Somehow, you were still here. Holding onto your job by a thread.

It still felt surreal, working for Joel Miller. You’d spent years watching this man on screen. All his works & press interviews. It seemed pretty fucking unreal to think that you now had his name saved to your phone like no big deal.

Given you weren’t able to tell anyone about it, though the purple vibrator that sat in your bedside drawer was pretty much the only thing that knew his name by now.

In the weeks that followed, you’d fallen into a rhythm with him. There were rules–unspoken ones. You didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t hover too close, and didn’t take it personally when he barked orders or dismissed you with a grunt. Joel wasn’t an easy man to work for.

What was even worse, was that in Joel's eyes, you were probably the least sexual entity to have ever existed. It stung, especially when you considered how much of your mind he occupied.

“Give me a…second. Dunno how these things work.”

You’d shifted uncomfortably, dropping to your knees to Joel’s horror. You sat on your thighs with a huff. Attempting to gather the hem of Joel’s pants to tuck into the army garters.

 “Christ. You don’t hafta…” Joel’s throat tightened as he fought the sudden, unwelcome heat pooling low in his gut.

“Huh?”

It was distracting, the sight of you so close. On your fuckin’ knees no less. Joel tugs around his belt. He snaps his fingers to catch your attention and you look up at him, with wide eyes. 

His thumbs twisting around the two metal hooks of the thin garter until it connects. “Just hook em’ together, kid.” 

You nodded at his words. Finally managing to neatly tuck it into his boots. 

Though from his vantage point, something else catches his eye–a small mark etched into your skin. Black ink at the nape of your neck, a star, delicate like the charm that hung from your belly button. 

“Ya got a thing for stars?” 

You blinked a few times before the words finally registered. Was he really starting a conversation when you were on the ground like this? You notice the slight nudge of his head towards your left. 

Instinctively, you cupped around the back of your neck. “Oh..yeah. I mean…it’s pretty and all.” You had to admit, Joel’s childlike curiosity over the ink on your body all of a sudden caught you off guard. 

He raises a brow at your admission. “What’s the point of puttin’ it at a place you can’t see. Seems pretty pointless.” 

“Didn’t put it there for me to see.” You say with a shrug. 

Joel’s jaw ticks when he realises the insinuation behind your words. He drags his hand down his face, opting to finally keep his mouth shut when the images conjured in his mind couldn’t be held back anymore. 

You didn’t quite notice his distress till you looked up after the lengthy silence that settled. 

The imperceptible twitch in his crotch area catches your attention. Your lips parted to stifle a gasp of surprise. 

Was he— “Jus’ get the hell up, kid.”

The respectable thing to do was to go on about his job. It was humiliating enough that you’d caught him in a painfully embarrassing position. 

But Joel Miller learned two new things about himself.

First, he didn’t quite mind the soft, lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla you seemed to carry. A quiet, comforting sweetness that seemed to cling to the air whenever you were near.

The second? Well, the second was far more troublesome. 

The thoughts that plagued him at night when he was fucking his fist, or someone else for that matter. It didn’t help that he was aware of such vivid and intimate details of you. It fucked with his head how desperately he wanted to draw pleasure out of you and stain that pretty little dainty star you had on your belly with ropes of his cum. 

The culmination of it all was taxing. But somehow? He managed to keep those thoughts at bay.

When the director finally called cut for the day, Joel stepped off set, muscles aching and shirt damp with sweat. He scans the area out of habit. 

Jonah would’ve been there by now–towel, water & phone in hand, ready for the usual barrage of calls and texts he needed to deal with.

Instead, it was you. 

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as the realization hit him again. Right. Jonah was gone.

“You don’t have to look like the world’s ended, Joel.” 

He doesn’t answer you, not at first. 

“It’s not like I’m going to tell people that you—“

Joel seats himself in his chair loudly. A silent warning for you to not go there. He lets out a long, drawn out exhale. Folding his arms tightly. “Kid. Don’t know whatcha think you saw–”

That again. Kid. Was that how he saw you? You had half the mind to admit what the idea of it did to you—the idea that he might’ve gotten hard at the thought of you. 

“Hate that I even have to ask.” You begin, not letting him finish his thought. “You realize I’m not.” You were dabbing a little harder now, tossing out the used makeup wipes in the trash beside you. 

“Y’are when I’ve got a decade over ya.” He says simply. Wincing at your harsh gestures. “Don’t need the complications.” He pushes your hand away, his deep brown eyes stayed locked on you, searching, warning. 

“Leave well enough alone, got that?”

The following weeks on set proved to be grueling, even by Joel’s standards. His reputation preceded him. A stubborn, self-reliant actor who insisted on doing his own stunts. For the studio, it was a nightmare. Higher insurance premiums, a ballooning budget, and his manager losing sleep over the what-ifs. 

For Joel, it was just how he’d always worked.

But his body wasn’t what it used to be. He could feel the aftermath of his aching limbs with every roll, leap, and landing. By the end of each day, he was a drained man.

The tension on set that evening was suffocating, the kind that made every sound sharper, every movement feel urgent. 

Joel’s stunt wasn’t supposed to go wrong. It rarely did. But today was different. 

You’d seen the way his jaw tightened with every take, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Monitoring him from the sidelines when the cameras were still rolling. 

Then it happened.

A sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of something gone wrong. Joel hit the ground hard, and the set erupted in chaos. The director’s voice echoed through the sound stage, “Cut! Jesus. Check on Joel. Now!” as the crew scrambled toward him.

You froze, the towel and water bottle in your hands suddenly feeling useless. Your feet moved on instinct, but the crowd around Joel was essentially a wall. Blocking you out. 

You couldn’t get through.

“Back off. M’fine.” Joel’s voice cuts through the commotion, frustration dripping from every word. He swatted away helping hands, gaze darting through the crowd. His face twisted in anger, not from pain but from the lack of order.

“Where the hell is she?” he grumbled. 

You hesitated, your stomach knotting. His eyes finally locked onto you, and his expression darkened. “You. Get over here.”

The weight of his command pulled you forward, even as your gut screamed to stay back, letting someone more qualified deal with it.  You shuffled behind him as you’d maneuvered out of the crowd and back into his trailer. Eyes widening at the sight of blood seeping through a tear in his shirt.

“Joel, I–…shouldn’t we call–”

“Don’t need someone else,” he interrupted, his tone biting but strained. “Just. I’ll tell ya what to do. Kits in the left drawer.”

“Okay,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, wracking your brain for memories of those first aid videos you’d seen on YouTube. Film school did not prep you for this. 

As you grabbed the first aid kit, you watched Joel slump against the trailer walls. You stood there, awkwardly, watching the scarlet blossom against his abdomen.

He looks at you for a moment before exhaling. “Y’know, you can ask n’ not jus’ stand there like a mute, darlin’.”

The witty remark dies in your throat when he yanks his shirt off. Effectively shutting your brain down entirely. You stare down at his body in its’ full glory. Damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. Blood smeared in jagged trails down his arm to his abdomen, mingling with grime from the fall. Joel pulls out the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, handing it to you.

“Shit, Joel. That looks fucking bad.” You hissed out, as though you were the one with a darkened gash on your midriff when you attempted to wipe the first streak off.

“Why…” Fuck. Your voice was cracking. “Why didn’t you just let someone else help you?”

He huffed, his dark eyes flicking to yours for a moment in amusement before looking away. “Ain’t worth makin’ a scene over somethin’ small.”

“This isn’t small, Joel,” you protested, frowning as you uncovered a deeper gash on his side. “You should’ve let the medics handle it.”

“Don’t need all that fuss.” His tone was clipped, defensive. “Been doin’ my own stunts for years. Ain’t stoppin’ now ‘cause of a scratch.”

“This isn’t a scratch.”

Joel’s gaze flicked to yours again, a flash of something unreadable in his expression. “Look, I get it, alright? But I don’t need everyone actin’ like I’m fallin’ apart. I’m fine.”

He knew deep down that his ego was far too big to admit that he actually needed help. 

“Stubborn,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head as you pressed a clean pad against the wound.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

Joel’s patience was paper thin, but he bit back whatever comment was forming on his tongue. “Enough of that. Just…tie it up” He sighs, strained, handing you a roll.

You nodded, fumbling with the bandage as your heart pounded in your ears. The wound was deeper than you’d thought now that it was clean, and the sight of it made your stomach churn.

“C’mon, darlin’. Ain’t got all day.”

You secured the bandage, tying it off with a bunny-eared bow before sitting back on your heels. Fingertips drumming on your knees, seemingly proud of yourself. 

Joel glanced down, his brows furrowing as he took in your work. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” you say defensively. “You told me to tie it.”

“Looks like ya wrapped a damn present,” he muttered. 

“Fine, I’ll redo it–”

“Don’t bother.” He caught your hands before you could move, holding them in place. “It’ll hold.”

The silence that followed proved to further intensify the air between the two of you. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t dare to move. 

The curve of his nose grazed your cheeks, the faintest touch sent a shiver down your spine, but he had enough sense to move away. 

You however, didn’t think, didn’t hesitate when you leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick, tentative kiss.

It seemed to have caught the both of you off guard.

Joel froze, the kiss barely lasting a second before he pulls back, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d tell you off.

But instead, he leans forward. Kissing you harder, deeper. A palm slips to the back of your neck to anchor you in place.

With nowhere else to put your hands, you placed them on his thighs, gripping them tightly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. His other hand gripped your waist, drags you closer until your knees pressed against the side of his hips.

But just as quickly as it started, Joel stops. He pulls back with a bated breath. His hands slip from where he held your neck. “Shit,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he looks away. “Shit.”

You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to catch up. Trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Joel–”

“Stop. I shouldn’t have.” The curtness in his tone startled you. But you frowned. Trailing behind him as he gets up. 

“Well you did.” You blocked his path towards the door of his trailer. Eyes filled with a burning persistence of him once again denying you. 

“Don’t push it, kid.”

You’d practically stepped up to him confrontationally. “—Or better yet, you gonna tell me that I imagined it?”

“You can’t do all of that and then just back off.”

It frustrated you to no end when he stonewalled you like this. Like you were some irrational kid who couldn’t read between the lines.

When Joel finally does speak, he merely says your name. With a finality you couldn’t quite refute. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Feeling humiliated at being shot down when you’d thrown yourself onto someone like this.

“Fucking coward.”

This time, you didn’t mumble. 

Joel visibly grimaces at that. You feel his hand grip painfully around your wrist, stopping you from leaving the trailer.

You let out a choked gasp when his hands shoot out to grip around your throat before you could even react. Forcing you backwards at every step. Instinctively, you grab around his wrists to loosen his grip. 

“Hey!” 

He leans down to your level, lips grazing against your ears in a deep whisper. “Fuckin’ coward, huh?”  You'd pushed all the right buttons. He'd held back for so damned long and he didn't have it in him to hold back. Not after you'd run your mouth.

You let out a shaky exhale. Teeth grit painfully. You should’ve felt scared. Horrified, really. But the tenderness in his hold makes you feel conflicted about what you should’ve felt. 

Joel’s grip held you firm. Tipping your head up. “Y’want me to fuck you that bad?”

A soft whimper leaves your lips when his back presses against you. The hardness rubbed up against your core. You shudder at the sensation, nodding weakly. 

His rough palms circle around your waist, turning you over the dressing table until your pelvis sat flush against it. The grip around your throat swiftly turns to a vice grip around your jaw. 

He tugs at your jaw. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Ugh—yes.…need you..tofuckme.” You manage through gritted teeth. It irked you to say it, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t have let up.

Joel tugs you to look up into your own reflection. Your gaze immediately sours, attempting to look away. 

“C’mon now. S’a pretty sight.” He tuts. His other palm drags the fabric of your top up harshly, pulling it up along with your bra. Your tits spilling at the notion. A gasp slips from your lips. 

“Joel!” Your palms tightens into fists on the table at the obscene sight. 

So much for someone who didn’t want to give in.

It doesn’t faze Joel, merely letting out a low whistle. Kneading them in his palms. “Perfect fuckin’ tits.”

He presses a kiss down the sides of your neck. Twisting around your nipples till they hardened between his fingers. You let out a pathetic whine at the sensation. Holding his arms firmly, you squirm as he nips your shoulder. 

“Could you just—“ Your protests don't stop him in the slightest. Nudging your head a little to give him room. He takes it as a sign to bite down on your neck, bruising you with hickeys all over. 

Joel seems to catch your nervous flickers towards the doors. He shifts your hair over one side of your shoulder. Thumbing over the ink on the nape of your neck. You hear the sound of the zipper, briefly catching sight of him shucking his pants down. He winces slightly at the dull pain shooting across his abdomen, but the desperation of needing you was far greater than the pain.

Somehow, the idea of not being able to see it made it so much worse. And as though he reads your mind, he presses his jaw against the side of your head. “Relax.” The tenderness in his tone through the roughness does manage to soothe your nerves. You nod slowly.

Your hips jolt as the cold air hits your body when Joel dips a finger under the waistband of your sweats. He teasingly brushes his fingers lightly against your skin before swiftly tugging them down to your thighs along with the flimsy cotton panties you had on. “A little warning would help.” You bite back, finally losing patience at his tactless gestures. 

Joel meets your gaze through the mirror. A lopsided smirk quirking up his lips. “Right. My bad.” You could feel the disingenuity in his tone before he taps the length of his cock against your lower back. The gesture almost mocking.

A shudder runs down your spine. He was big, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. 

He hikes your hip backwards and flush against him. Your palms instinctively clutches around the edge of the table. Joel takes his time, sliding his hard cock between the softness of your thighs. The sensation nearly sends you doubling over. Watching the weeping tip poke through in the reflection, slightly smearing his precum on your clit.

You squeeze your legs together subconsciously, earning a wince from him. He was certain he could come just from fucking your thighs like this. The pace he took now bordered on torturous. Teasing you with everything but giving you nothing. 

You took it upon yourself to stretch your hands between your thighs in an attempt to notch him in you. You were aching. Badly.

Joel lets out a grunt of disapproval, yanking your wrist to pin it behind your back. Leaving you to steady your body weight onto your other hand. “Eager little thing. Daddy ain’t ever teachya patience?”

His snark burned in your cheeks. It was a futile effort. He could see every single expression you were making from your reflection and he fucking thrived on it. Joel takes a hold of his cock, lining it up against your soaked cunt, he slowly drags your slick over his length. You were soaking him before he even started.

Your head dips, clinging onto the fleeting pleasure every time the tip of his cock bumped against your clit. 

“Joel–please just fuck me...”

So he does.

Before you could even catch your breath, he snaps his hips into you. “Deep breath f’me, sweetheart.” If not for his grip around your wrist, you would’ve probably face planted into the dresser. 

The sting from the intrusion of his thickness had your cunt tightening with every move he makes, squeezing the absolute life out of his dick.

Your hair falls in front of your face as he mercilessly fucks you. You swore you could feel him almost grazing the entrance of your cervix. “T-Too..too fucking...big.”

Joel tips his head at the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock, probably only halfway. He doesn’t say anything yet. Only humming at your whines. “I know baby.”

You look down shakily at where the both of you were connected, the lines between pain and pleasure blurring to the point you hadn’t registered the tears prickling the corner of your eyes. “Hurts…”

Joel seems to feel a tinge of empathy at the way you were struggling to take him, hiccuping through your whines. His gaze flickers to the way your pretty little face scrunched up, doing your fucking best like the good girl you were. A slight groan leaves his lips involuntarily.

All rationality be fucked.

His hand grips around your throat, forcing you to look up at the mirror. 

As humiliating as it was, you couldn’t help but feel increasingly turned on at the sight of his cock fucked into your dripping pussy in squelches. “See that? Takin’ me so ’fuckin’ well.” He sighs into your shoulder. 

The praise has you lifting your hips higher, on your tippy toes–forcing a deeper arch at your hips. With how slick your thighs were, you weren’t even sure yourself if you did come.

Nothing but the sounds of his pelvis snapping into your ass in rhythmic, hard slaps. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder. And you hear him audibly grunt this time. Thrusting into you at a punishing pace. 

Joel could feel the all familiar tightening in his sack, he knew he was close. The sheer suction your soft, slick walls were providing him was nothing he’d ever felt before. He lets go of your throat, both palms gripped around your hips, painful enough to leave a mark. The table rattles under your combined weights and Joel’s frantic thrusts, products rolling and clattering onto the ground. He noses your cheeks, stubble rubbing against your pulse point. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy…” 

You offer a slight whimper at his words, meeting the intensity his thrusts weakly. You both still at the shuffle of footsteps approaching the trailer.

 The sharp knocks against the trailer door has the both of you whipping your head towards it. 

“Everything okay?”

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears loudly. The door wasn’t locked.

Joel doesn't answer, simply looking at you. Your expression twists in frustration. Mouthing the words ‘me?’. There wasn't time to deliberate. Your lips parts to speak, barely able to form coherent words. “Y..yeah. A-All good.” 

“Right…productions cutting it close. So if Joel’s oookaaay…”

You cursed internally at how persistent whoever behind the doors was. But you nearly see white when Joel fully slams into you. Deeper than before. You couldn’t control the sharp cry that leaves your lips, but it is soon muffled by Joel’s rough palms covering your mouth.

“M’fine. Give us ten.”

Your tears pool around his hand. Gripping onto his wrists when he continues to pound into you at a faster intensity. You were whining by the time the crewmate finally left. Joel pulls you against his chest. Audibly groaning into your ears now. “Fuck. M’close.” 

You nodded dumbly, not even sure just what at anymore. Shaky hands clinging onto him like a lifeline. With a final rut, his hips stutter, ropes of his cum painting the insides of your walls.

He held it there for a couple of seconds before pulling out. All messy and soaked with your arousal.

You let out a strained exhale at the feeling of loss as your pussy convulses around nothing, pearlescent liquid dripping from your reddened cunt. 

Joel sighs wantonly at the sight. With the state of you, he was briefly worried that he might’ve gone too hard. And then he sees it. Your smaller, manicured hands, pushing more of his dripping come into your folds. Yeah. Joel was fucked.

[winterdeepelegy]

Vanilla Gpose Tips

I get asked occasionally how I make my screenshots if I'm not using shaders or mods. The short answer: Patience. Gpose's suite of tools is a lot more robust than it used to be when it was first released. But if you want a screenshot to really shine without using third party add-ons, it's not something you can just go into gpose, take a printscreen and get back out. You might capture a moment with nice lighting that way, but it takes more than that. 1. Choosing a location and time of day is job one. What kind of mood are you trying to convey? Does your intended screenshot have a theme (or a prompt?) or are you just looking at your new glam and marveling at how fine your character looks in it? Does a lighter or darker setting suit the character better? Setting, time of day, and weather can affect this. 2. You can stop time and weather from changing. I keep this on by default because it can take upwards of 30 minutes IRL to fine tune a screenshot. The middle button below. Make sure it's highlighted.

3. Toggle battle effects on/off. It's the button right next to the time/weather stop, the icon of the guy holding the sword. If the icon is highlighted as it is in the screenshot, your battle effects are on. If you want to capture pure motion and not worry about battle effects, turn this off. 4. Wet effect. Use it, use it, use it. It doesn't just make clothes look wet and make skin glossy, it actually helps to bring out texture and detail on the character's outfit. Especially since the graphics updates in 7.1. I've found it also adds shine to hair and can help the eyes stand out more.

5. Sticker Mode. Yes, there are oodles of cute minion stickers, flags, and numbers, but there are also some great effects to be found in the Decorations category! Sparkles and twinkles, lens flare, among other things can help enhance metallic points on a glamour, AND they can be resized! So if you want a more subtle twinkle on the edge of your spectacles or earrings, you can tilt and downsize your desired sparkle. There are also cute flowers and hearts. 6. Quick Keys. If you're playing on a keyboard, the 1 on your top number row freezes the screenshot. This is extremely helpful if you're trying to catch a battle emote right at a specific moment. If you miss it, keep trying because emotes will continue to cycle until you change them. R and Scroll Lock will both hide/unhide the gpose controls. X will turn on lighting. Space Bar will toggle your character to stop them from facing the camera and vice versa. 7. Lighting Intensity is Dependent on Distance. The closer you're zoomed in on your character, the brighter the light is going to be when you turn it on. Try adjusting your zoom in or out and toggling the light to see if the illumination is to your liking. You can also adjust the RGB on the lights to fit the mood/environment. I also recommend turning on Manual Brightness. 8. Color Filter and Screen Effect. These two features, in my opinion, require the most patience. Not every color filter and screen effect will work well together in every scenario. Click through and preview all of them in your screenshots and see if some SE's work better with your preferred CF. You might find an unexpected combination that you love. Trailer and Echo color filters are great for flashbacks (no one uses Aetherometer, it's an eye bleeder). Use the Pencil or one of the monochrome CFs and Noise 2 SE to create a nice black and white film or photo effect. 9. Frames. Frames are one of the more limited features and not always needed in order to capture a great screenshot. Action poses benefit from the Cinema frames, however, while more lighthearted moments play well with the photo options.

10. Emotes. Before you enter Gpose, be sure to /groundsit to clear your most recent emotes. Summoning mounts and minions also count as emotes for the sake of Gpose. By the same token, you can use battle abilities before entering Gpose, and this is what it will cycle through. You can't activate a battle ability while IN Gpose. You will have access to all of your non-battle emotes and facial expressions, though. You can combine any emote with any facial expression by choosing the action first, and expression second, so you can /prettyplease and /awe at the same time to make your character look hilariously horrified. If you enter Gpose with an active battle ability, you can still apply a facial expression to it from within the tool. 11. Bits and Bobs. Enable Manual Focus and Depth of Field will help bring out the details of the background more, and will help to make a more cohesive screenshot. Manual Focus is great if you want your character in the frame, but you want to shift the focus elsewhere, to an object or another person in the background for example. In the same menu where you'll find emotes, click the second eye button to "Track Camera". Your character's eyes will follow the position of the camera. Lastly, again, have patience. Allow yourself time to play with all the tools Gpose has to offer. You're probably not going to get the winning screenshot after clicking Printscreen just one time, you should take multiple shots from different angles with different lighting and effects, then compare them all and pick the ones you like best. And remember, even if it's the true endgame, it's not a competition. Your screenshots are not "worse" or "boring" just because you're not using third party tools. I look forward to seeing what you create, and you should too.

[honeydewsblue]

( gojo and paparazzi ) — alternatively: this with gojo 💀…

╰┄➤ 1.1 k wc, reader n gojo are obsessed and in love with each other, jealousy, not proofread i’m too incapacitated (sleep deprived)

satoru has a sort of unearthly beauty to him, you think that much is a sort of fundamental truth. an axiom. he's a frustratingly attractive man, in spite of his piss poor personality and the uncanny features he possesses. he’s got white hair and blue eyes and height that makes him almost as tall as his ego; there is nothing about him that is anything short of unnatural.

satoru is unnaturally pretty—and unfairly so, too. he knows it. how could he not, when anyone who has the ability to see makes a point of acknowledging it? whether it's through envious glares or wanting stares, or by being awestruck at the sight of someone who doesn't look like he belongs amongst humans (if only they knew how right they were), people notice him. not as if he needs that to know his worth. in the back of your head, you can hear his raucous laugh at the prospect of being in any way dependent on something so insignificant; on anything at all. you think i give a shit about them?

(still, you know he thrives off of it, off of the attention—being the attention whore that he is.)

the point is, it’s obvious that people can see satoru’s beauty.

especially now, you think, when you watch women your age fawn and giggle to each other over him—watch as they snap pictures and take videos of him. it’s almost pious, the way they try to capture him in film.

yes, an agreeing hum rolls in your throat, it is a universal truth that he is beautiful. unnaturally so. but you really wish people could just be normal, and refrain from being so indecent as to film strangers on the street.

it's not the first time it's happened—the farthest thing from it. unfortunately, you know it's even farther from being the last time, too. satoru's always been a sort of spectacle, one way or the other; in his power, his skills, his looks... he's watched by everyone. he is someone to serve witness to. that, too, is a fundamental truth.

though you know this, an ugly little feeling crawls in your gut while you watch the scene play out in front of you. most of it a sense of disgust, given the impression of how out of touch people are—but, a smaller, yet even uglier, part of it is a little possessive.

that smaller, uglier part feels a little offended at the fact that they’re being so blatantly disrespectful in front of you. that smaller, uglier part feels a little humiliated.

it’s a familiar sight, something you’ve seen happen time and time again, but this is the first time you’ve taken it as an insult—the first time you’ve taken it so personally, the first time you’ve felt it. the first time you’ve felt your dignity being prodded at, like there’s a blazed red rod poking and poking, urging that burning feeling in your gut to grow hotter and hotter. it’s an invasive thing, this hot, rushing feeling.

it isn’t personal. you know that. it shouldn’t be personal, but…

when you meet satoru in the middle, your fingers slip under the collar of his dress shirt. your nails drag taut at the crisp linen like an assertion and you pull him towards you, swift as you press your lips against his. you can feel the hesitation, the fleeting shock against them—that sharp, nearly imperceptible gasp skipping across teeth—but it barely lasts half a second before he’s the one kissing you. that small, uglier little part of you hopes that their little camera captured the picture of you kissing him.

you keep your heavy eyes cracked open, capturing it for yourself.

his hand finds its way to your lower back easily, like a puzzle piece fitting into its slots, holding you close to him; securing you. his hand is weighted on your back in a way that grounds you, but gentle as his fingers skim across your the fabric of your shirt. heavy and gentle like he’s trying to get to the skin underneath. heavy and gentle, like the way he looks at you, eyes skimming across your face—your eyes, to your lips, your cheeks, your eyes again. heavy and gentle, like worship. he wets his lips, swallows. “what was that about?”

he likes the look you have in your eyes, likes the way they mirror his own.

(you see him like how he sees the world, like something all encompassing. he likes that he can see you, only you, with this overwhelming sort of clarity. he likes that he sees you the way you see the world—the tunnel vision of it all. your attention is the only one he really wants for. the only one really he needs.

if you told him he was dependent on you, he’s not sure he’d have it in him to laugh it off.)

you cast a dirty, sidelong glance at where you feel two pairs of eyes burning holes at the both of you; poking and poking.

(and satoru thinks you look awfully pretty right now, your eyes glaring and lidded, your lashes contouring the sharp and narrowed look you bear. awfully, unearthly pretty, and so very familiar in a way that makes him crave you, makes him want to immortalize you in his skin. it’s instinctual, the way he gravitates to you, minty breath ghosting your cheek.)

they’re borderline gawking at the two of you until one of them smacks at the other's arm not-so-inconspicuously, and they shuffle off to the sidewalk, whispering to each other yet again. it’s only then that satoru follows your line of sight. when it clicks, he looks back at you far too eagerly for your comfort.

“oh,” he drawls, his stupid pretty teeth bearing themselves in the stupid, obnoxious grin that spreads across his lips. “that’s what it was?”

the idea of you being so possessive makes his stomach flip.

“baby, are you jealous?” he looks awfully happy about it, blue eyes gleaming at you with an unabashed sort of mirth. even when he finds himself being on other end of that glare of yours, his dimples only get deeper.

“you’re worse than me,” you hum. you don’t admit it, but you don’t deny it—you can’t. maybe you’re spending too much time with him.

oh. goosebumps break out against your skin at the thought of picking up his behavior, a little horrified at the thought of coming off as obtrusive as him. you shrug it off, shaking your head. “doesn’t matter,” you say airily, glancing at him, “you’re mine.”

you definitely spend too much time with him, if your aloof nonanswers and attitude attest to anything.

when your eyes meet his, you think that he sees it too. there’s a certain look in his eyes, the way they widen a fraction like he’s trying to commit you to memory—as if he hasn’t already. you know it’s probably just from the dark of night, but his pupils are wide and that revered and blessed blue he bears is reduced to a ring. right now, his eyes are consuming. you think you can see yourself in them.

(and, he does—he does see it. with his eyes, he sees little bits of himself transfused with you and it’s the most satisfying feeling he’s ever gotten in his life.)

he only smiles at you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your temple, his words spoken against your skin. “that’s right, baby.”

thank you for reading, feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 🤍!!

a/n. i haven’t posted anything in so long so i cranked this out… i really wanted to post something and that video thankfully gave me a lil idea hehe :’-) i hope it doesn’t seem too rushed <3

[prentissluvr]

just an observation — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, a little cliche hehe, reader is shorter than sam, poor editing as always, 1.3K words. requested !

prompt : one being shorter and it being a source of great enjoyment for the other.

sam really tries not to tease you about your height; he’s supposed to be a gentleman, and it’s not your fault that he’s so tall. but he just finds it so completely endearing that you’re shorter than him, and sometimes he just can’t help it.

you’re rambling about some movie that you watched last night, wandering the kitchen as you grab everything you need to make something to drink for the both of you. he leans against the counter, eyes trailing your sweet form.

“i don’t normally watch rom-coms, and it was sort of really bad, but it’s hard to resist anything with david tennant,” you say, coming to stand right next to him and open the cabinet by his head. instinctually, you put your hand on the corner to make sure it doesn’t hit him and reach up to grab your favorite mug. only someone (sam) has put it on the top shelf.

it’s not as if you can’t reach the cup. with a stretch and maybe some help from getting up on your tip-toes, you absolutely can. but sam is right there, willing and far more able. he doesn’t hesitate, turning a little and grabbing the cup with ease. you get a full, close-up view of his arm as it reaches right in front of your face and holds the cup out for you with a smile on his mouth that’s both sweet and teasing all at once. 

you narrow your eyes at him but let your own mouth curve into a little smile. it’s difficult to react properly to him when he’s being a teasing asshole and genuinely just trying to be helpful.

“thanks,” you grumble, taking the cup from him and grabbing his own mug from the lower shelf. he just hums an affirmation in response, seeming unnecessarily pleased with himself. you brush it off with a small laugh under your breath, then move to fill your cup with your choice beverage and sam’s with coffee from the half-empty pot. just to be close to him, you return to the spot at the counter next to him, preparing each drink the way they’re most well liked. sam lets you do it, only because he knows you like to do little things like this for him. 

that, and he loves watching you do anything at all. he loves to pour his undivided attention into you, sometimes so lovestruck that he doesn’t even care if you notice that he’s totally in love with you, despite the fact that he probably shouldn’t be. fuck being friends, he thinks sometimes.

so he watches and notices as you take extra care and precision to prepare his drink than yours, and he watches your lips move as you continue talking about the movie. it sounds like a bad movie, but you smile when you describe it to him, so he couldn’t care less.

“despite it being a pretty bad movie, the leads made it fun to watch,” you admit without hesitation. “it was horribly cliche and unoriginal, but there were some really sweet moments with her mom, and i don’t know anything much about cinematography, but i thought it was just gorgeous.” you slide his cup over to him and begin to work on your own.

he takes it with a sweet, “thank you,” and you just nod as you keep on blabbing, carefree and casual as sam looks at you like he’s in love with you.

“the setting was so beautiful, and the way they did the colors was just so pretty. so of course, that made it feel all romantic and shit,” you say, turning around with your own mug in hand to lean against the counter the same as sam. you take a sip of your drink and hum a little in satisfaction, and if your eyes weren’t trailing along the cabinet across the room, you might catch the adoration in his eyes. he schools his features to look more neutral when you look at him with this sort of longing that catches him off guard. “it was filmed in scotland, and sam, i have to go to scotland someday. it’s unbelievably beautiful to me.”

he smiles at you all soft. “we can try,” he says, not even thinking as he says those words. he just wants to please you.

you laugh a little. “well, that’s wishful thinking,” you sigh playfully. though, it’s completely true that the chances of you getting a break, much less an international one, are quite slim. you like the idea anyway. and you love that he said “we.” he’d go with you, that means. he’d try because he wants to make just about anything you want into a reality. a minute in silence slips away, like the coffee in his cup. you make it so perfect, he can’t keep his lips from the rim of the mug.

and while he’s content watching you sip away at your own drink, he likes hearing your voice so much that he’d like to fill the air with words rather than rustling clothes.

“you look extra short today,” he comments, a smirk splayed across his face. a screw must be loose in his mouth, because things that he’s not meaning to say keep falling from his lips. but he keeps thinking about the way your mouth tilted down just a little when you saw that your mug was higher up then usual, or the halfway annoyed smile you gave when he pulled it down for you. so this is the part where he just can’t help but tease, only because he loves you and doesn’t know how to show it.

“well, you must have grown in your sleep then,” you tease back, rolling your eyes. “what a rude thing to say,” you joke, “and here i was, thinking you were a gentleman.”

he shrugs, the smile on his face stretching wider. “i was just stating an observation.”

you tilt your head to the side and look at him with the hint of a smirk in your grin. “you know, you try to hide it, but i think you like that i’m shorter than you, don’t you, sam? which is silly, because most everybody is.”

he’s taken aback by that. he never expected you to call him out on it, to notice just how much he really enjoys being taller than specifically you.

“just stating an observation,” you quip when it takes him more than a moment to reply.

“and you like that i’m taller than you, so i guess that makes us even,” he grins. he pays plenty enough attention to you to know that it’s true.

you bite the inside of your cheek, already knowing you don’t have a better response to that. you raise an eyebrow at him. “fine. we’re even then,” you acquiesce, both begrudging and holding back a smile at the same time.

he tilts his head and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. “not that even,” he teases, clearly alluding to the difference in height between the two of you.

you roll your eyes again and scoff out a little laugh. “very funny,” you deadpan, unimpressed by the joke. you can feel him shifting closer to you, like he can resist it. his arm brushes against yours as he takes another sip of coffee. god, he’s flirty today. sam keeps you on your toes, he keeps you guessing and wondering and you know that he’s too nice to be sending mixed signals on purpose, but you just can’t tell.

you feel like you’re sitting on the bank of a river, dressed in white with a handful of daisies by your side and picking petals reciting “he loves me… he loves me not,” over and over again. today it feels like “he loves me.”

[nubiawrites]

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: None as of yet. Summary: When an up-and-coming screenwriter meets her match in a rising actor, their worlds collide as the lines blur between business, pleasure, and maybe love...

Notes: It's been a minute since I wrote any fanfiction, but I was inspired by the community that has emerged out of love for Aaron Pierre and the many characters he has played. So, hopefully, I make people proud. If you want to be on the tag list, reblog or like, and I will add you. Enjoy, and tell me how you feel! MASTERLIST

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Iriye had to remind herself of this as she looked up at the water tower of her workplace. The Warner Brothers emblem shines down from her view on the lot. This was what dreams were made of. But her path wasn’t the easiest. She was grateful for the coffee runs, errands, reading, and research she did for others as she tried to make her way up the food chain. And it paid off.

Iriye turned towards the office on the lot, Telfar bag on her shoulder and box in hand, looking at her home away from home for the next few months. Many halls led her to the office door with a placard that read the name of the production company she shared with Tamara: Lanoire Productions. Iriye pushed through the door and smiled brightly as she saw Nelly slide into view.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” Nelly whined as Iriye placed her things in an empty chair. Iriye smiled at Tamara’s little cousin, who doubled as Lanoire’s one and only intern turned assistant. “I had a big surprise planned. There were going to be balloons and everything and these,” Nelly went to grab a confetti shooter, and with a pop, she let it go off. 

The pop brought Tamara out of her office, smiling as she saw Iriye.

“Let the woman breathe, Nels!” Tamara stated, pulling Iriye in for a hug. “Look at our little space. Isn’t it everything we dreamed of?”

“Well…” Iriye took in most of the space and smiled happily. “We don’t have the chocolate leather couches or Michael B. Jordan banging down our door, but it’s something,” Iriye teased. “But we have plenty of time for that,” Iriye wrapped her arm around Tamara’s shoulder.

“Took us nine years to get here, but it was worth it,” Tamara reminded Iriye. Iriye just shook her head playfully.

“Listen, I can wait nine more years for Michael,” Iriye teased as she grabbed her bag.

“Don’t you guys keep up? Michael is so last year,” Nelly declared.

“Nah, don’t say that,” Iriye shook her head, goddess locs moving. “Who is this year then?”

Nelly approaches Tamara and Iriye with her phone, clicking through her photos until she plays a video of a tall, light-skinned Black man dancing through a spirit tunnel for the Jennifer Hudson show.

“Ain’t that Malcolm X?” Tamara asked, Nelly shaking her head as Iriye chuckled.

“That’s Mufasa,” Nelly sang along with the video. “Aaron Pierre, to be exact. The South London heartthrob,”

“Right,” Iriye rolled her eyes at the words. “A new one comes and goes every month,” She grabbed her bag and box. “Let me get my stuff set up in my office. We got that meeting anyway with the executives, right?” She said.

“Yes. Two pm sharp. Don’t be late,” Tamara teased.

“Yes, ma’am,” Iriye teasingly salutes. “Nelly will keep me on time. Part of her job,” 

After setting her belongings down, Iriye entered her office and organized her desk. She then took out her laptop and reviewed the notes and questions she had prepared for her meeting later that day.

Iriye and Tamara had secured a first-look deal with Warner Brothers after many years of creating their short films and funding an indie feature while working for others. It was a whirlwind, and all their hard was paying off. 

Iriye prepped for a little longer before opening a PowerPoint file and working on a lookbook for her new idea. It was a romantic drama, something she was doing to challenge herself. She went through the slides, beginning to go through the different photos and such on the slides. But then she caught sight of the one picture she had pulled from her selfies. She and her ex-boyfriend, Jay. She sighed, seeing the beauty in the photo of them holding each other and how it connected to what she wanted to explore in the script. But it hurt still, and she shut the laptop.

Iriye got up and headed out of her office to see Nelly setting up more knick-knacks and memorabilia to make their production office more welcoming.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. Grab some coffee,” Iriye told Nelly.

“Isn’t that my job?” Nelly asked Iriye.

“Not right now. I need the air. You want anything?” Iriye asked.

“Oh, I would love a cookie,” Nelly pleaded. 

“Your wish is my command,” Iriye headed out to the lot, taking familiar steps to the cafe on the lot.

Iriye headed for the path she usually took, but with several new productions happening on the lot, she had to take the same routes some of the studio tours were on. She found herself in familiar territory, remembering her first job as a tour guide on the lot. She walked until she caught sight of one of the soundstages that were usually left empty for the walking part of the tour.

Iriye slipped inside, footsteps hitting the ground and her taking in the sound stage. She looked around, wrapping her arms around herself as she took it all in. She knew she had ten minutes before the next group came in.

Iriye shut her eyes, imagining a set on the sound stage. Two actors portraying forlorn lovers settled in their house while Tamara called cut. Iriye sat in a chair, headphones on, watching from the video village. It was so close yet so far away. Her fantasy was cut short by the sound of heavier steps entering the space.

“My bad, I didn’t know this stage was taken,” The light-skinned man spoke with a heavy British accent, adjusting his glasses as he looked at her.

As this stranger stood on the soundstage, Iriye felt unnerved, her fantasy disturbed. His presence was something else, though, as he smiled at her.

“It’s not, but you shouldn’t be here,” Iriye stated matter of factly. “It’s the sound stage the tour uses. No one is supposed to be here,”

“You’re a tour guide?” He asked, Iriye trying her best not to scoff.

“I am- I was,” Iriye admitted. “Do I look like a tour guide?”

“No. Not at all. I mean no offense by that,” He explained, moving closer. Iriye held her ground, realizing that she should probably move away as he was so damn tall. “I was just-“

“Because I was trying to look like a professional now. And the tour guides wear button-ups too,” Iriye was trying to be calm as she smoothed out her button-up shirt. 

“You look good. Dope,” The tall man reasoned. Iriye raised her eyebrow at him, taking in his jawline and those eyes. Man.

The rumble of a tour bus coming to a stop broke Iriye from her trance, and she focused on the entrance behind him.

“We should go before we get kicked off the lot. I mean, I won’t, but you might,” Iriye stated, heading towards the exit and leading them out. The footsteps entering the space made the tall man follow behind Iriye, and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“My bad,” he whispered, as they exited the sound stage. They made it outside the stage, and she pointed back to where the tour guides usually congregated with their groups.

“You might want to return to your group before they notice you are missing. The tour guides can get in trouble if they lose someone,” Iriye stated. The man just chuckled, and Iriye crossed her arms. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Trust me, I probably would cause more commotion being there with them. Would probably get me in trouble.” He said. Iriye shook her head at him. 

“So I’m guessing you’re new to the lot. What production are you working on?” Iriye asked. With that question, the man looked at her curiously before a smile crossed his face. 

“Lanterns,” He said. “I’m Aaron,” He offered his hand to her.

“Iriye,” Iriye shook his hand, feeling almost dainty as her hand was in his. “Nice to meet you, Aaron,” She said. “Hope you don’t get into trouble while on the lot. It’s an amazing place to be,”

“It is from what I can see. What’s your favorite place here?” Aaron asked her, and Iriye found that question intriguing. 

“My favorite place here?” Iriye thought about it for a moment. “Anywhere I can see the water tower,” She said. “If you’re driving to the lot, it’s welcoming you. And once you get inside here, you can see it down the main road. Right down there,” Iriye pointed out.

Aaron looked the way she pointed, taking in the lingering smile on her face. “Not to get you in trouble like myself, but do you mind showing me?”

“Are you mocking me?” Iriye asked. “Because you asked me what was my favorite place here,”

Aaron put his hands up in defense. “I just don’t want to get you into any more trouble than I already might cause,” 

Iriye smirked before motioning for him to follow her. “Come on,”

Iriye and Aaron walked down one of the roads until they reached a path with a clear view of the water tower, which was lit by the sun. 

Iriye stopped, taking in the view, and she turned to see Aaron beside her. She took in his side profile as he stared ahead, gold-rimmed glasses on his face. From her eyes, she fell to his full lips and then the chiseled jaw with a trimmed goatee. And though she couldn’t see much, she could tell under his hoodie and sweats that he was tall and muscular.

“So what are you doing on Lanterns? You know, job-wise?” She asked, still taking him in. Aaron looked at her directly, and his eyes were so bright and open, her masking her surprise and failing. She couldn’t tell the emotion on his face, but it was quickly washed with a warm smile.

“I work with talent,” Aaron stated. “Yourself?”

“I’m a writer working on the lot here,” Iriye stated. “The production company I co-own with my best friend got a deal with the studio,” She explained.

“Congratulations,” Aaron applauded her. Iriye shook her head. 

“Don’t clap too soon. We have to get something greenlit first,” She stated.

“What makes you think it won’t happen?” Aaron asked.

Iriye turned to Aaron, seeing the curiosity. “You know how fickle this industry can be. One day, you’re in, and the next, you’re out. If I keep my hopes low and realistic, I won’t be let down if it doesn’t come to fruition,” Why was she spilling her guts to him? It must have been those beautiful blue-green eyes.

“Maybe I have too much faith, but I have a feeling you’re going to get everything you want,” Aaron said with a smile. “It’s okay to be hopeful,” 

“Maybe so,” Iriye shot back. Her eyes were stuck on his, seeing how hopeful and solid he was. It should have scared her, but it wasn't very safe in a good way. The sound of a golf cart going by them broke off their stare, and Iriye fidgeted on her feet. “I should get going. I have so much to do. And I still have to get coffee,” she explained. “Plus, I’m sure your second AD is not gonna like one of his below-the-line crew running off,”

“Right. I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” Aaron said. “Thank you for the mini tour. Maybe you can show me some other places on the lot soon." His face was filled with a hopeful smile.

“Maybe. Make sure you have your badge on you, too,” Iriye reminded her. She waved goodbye before walking towards the cafe.

Coffee, water, and two cookies later, Iriye made it back to her production offices, goodies in hand, as Nelly came over to hold the door.

“You okay? Was worried when you weren’t back so quickly,” Nelly asked. Tamara came out of her office and saw the treats. 

“If I would have known, I would have walked with you. Especially after the email I got,” Tamara stated. Iriye offered her half of her cookie, seeing her friend's forehead wrinkling.

“What was the email about?” Iriye asked before taking a sip of her coffee. Nelly dug into her cookie with a hum.

“Davis wants us to meet in his office instead of them coming to us. I guess they’re expecting a few more people in this meeting,” Tamara chewed a piece.

“Thank God. This place wasn’t going to be done in time,” Nelly declared. “I can only do so much. I’m one person,”

“Well, you can take a break 'cause you’re coming with us. Tamara and I were serious about including you in this production company. The best way to learn is to get hands-on experience,” Iriye smiled. She had to keep calm for the three of them. “Tamara, we’re going to nail this pitch, get the green light on this project, and be on our way to showing what we can do,” Iriye had to take the bull by the horns, especially as she was just as nervous.

“What would I do without you?” Tamara pulled Iriye into a hug, patting her back. 

“Team Lanoire,” Nelly put her hand out. Tamara pulled back and added her s before Iriye did the same. They cheered before Nelly put on her music, blasting it through the office and starting an impromptu dance party.

As Megan Thee Stallion rapped throughout the office, Iriye got hyped about the presentation. The representation she wanted to bring. But even more so, her brain kept wondering to Aaron’s kind words. He was a total stranger and yet, he was able to leave an impression on her. And not because he was handsome. Tha was a plus but it felt like he was trying to speak something inside of Iriye into existence.

His words were still on her mind even as they made their way to the one of the main offices on the lot that housed the execs they were meeting with. An assistant led the three women into the  conference room and were met with a smile and hand shake from Davis, a  executive who had been championing their work for the past two years.

“Sorry about the shake up, ladies,” Davis stated as he waited for them to sit down. 

“Nothing we can’t take in stride,” Tamara said, looking to Iriye with a smile.

“I’m guessing we’re going to be expecting more people today for the meeting,” Iriye inquired, grabbing a bottle of water that was on the table for them.

“We are actually. Some executives wanted to bring in an actor that’s working on the lot for the next few months. You know how it goes. Give him some options of films to star in,” Davis explained. Iriye tried her best not to roll her eyes. Nelly had to hold a chuckle in as she looked at Iriye.

“You know how grateful we are for this opportunity,” Tamara said before Iriye jumped in.

“Davis, you know that’s not us though,” Iriye admitted. “We really want to be on the forefront of breaking new talent,”

“You know I want that more than anything for you guys. And I will keep in my mind. But you know some things are out of my hands,” Davis took a sip of his drink. 

“We know,” Iriye nodded, even if she had to bite her tongue. 

“We really appreciate everything, Davis,” Tamara reasoned. 

“You the man, Davis,” Nelly added on. The older gentleman nodded along.

“So, do you know who the studio wants to try and partner with us?” Iriye asked, wanting to get straight to the point. 

“He’s this up-and-coming actor. I’m shocked because he requested to be here. He’s working on the lot for a bit, so the studio wants to maintain a good relationship with him and all,” Davis said. 

Iriye was ready to retort when the conference room door opened, and three other execs poured in. Iriye began digging through her bag for a few pens, moving to hand Nelly one, but she noticed the woman had frozen up.

“You good?” Iriye asked her. Nelly nodded, taking the pen. Iriye turned back to the door, and she tried her best to keep a poker face as she looked at the man she had met earlier. 

The tall stranger whose presence had slowly wormed it’s way through her head as she prepared for this meeting. I have a feeling you’re going to get everything you want. Those words were ringing true now.

He stepped forward to Tamara, shaking her hand. Iriye was sure her brain turned off until he got to her.

“I’m Aaron Pierre,” Aaron said, glasses no longer on as his grayish-green eyes bore into her.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m Iriye,” Iriye kept her composure. They were in a professional setting now. No need for the theatrics, even if the man she met on the soundstage seemed anything but it. But he was an actor. Aaron had a role to play, and Iriye did too.

[samwisethewitch]

What Non-Pagans Need to Know About Fiction Featuring Pagan Gods

In light of Marvel's Loki show dropping a second season and a new Percy Jackson series on the horizon, I want to say some things about how fandom spaces can be respectful of real-life pagan religion.

Let's get one thing out of the way: literally no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction that uses pagan gods and heroes as characters. No one is saying, "Stop writing stories about our gods." In fact, many ancient cultures wrote fiction about their gods -- look at Greek theater or the Norse Eddas. The act of writing fiction about the gods is not offensive in itself.

But please remember that this is someone's religion.

The gods are not "just archetypes." Their myths are not "just stories." Their personalities are not a matter of artistic interpretation. For many pagans, the gods are very much real in a literal sense. I don't think Thor is a metaphor or a symbol -- for me, Thor is a real, autonomous spiritual being who exists outside of human perceptions of him, and who I have chosen to build a relationship with. Even if you are a hardcore atheist, I would hope you could at least be respectful of the fact that, to many modern pagans, the gods are both very real and very important.

When authors are not respectful of this fact, they reduce the gods, these very real objects of worship, to fictional characters. And here's the thing about fictional characters: they are fundamentally tools for authors to use to draw a desired emotional response from an audience.

Dracula's personality and behavior is wildly different depending on who is writing him, because different authors use Dracula to create different reactions in their audiences. In the 1931 film starring Bela Lugosi, he's equal parts alluring and disturbing, a symbol of America's mixed desire and disdain for foreigners. In Nosferatu, he's more strictly frightening and disgusting. In Francis Ford Coppola's movie, he's a tragic, romantic figure clinging to the last scraps of his humanity. In Netflix's Castlevania, he's an incredibly powerful being who has grown bitter and apathetic in his immortality. All of this is Dracula, and all of it is fine, because Dracula is not and never has been a central figure in anyone's religion.

Let's take a look at what happens when authors give this same treatment to real gods:

In Hellenic polytheism, Apollo is one of the most beloved gods, both historically and today. Apollo loves humanity, and humanity loves him back. He is the god of sunlight and of medicine, but also of poetry and song. He is one of humanity's most consistent defenders when one of the other gods gets wrathful. And while he does have dangerous or wrathful aspects of his own (he's also the god of disease, after all), he's also kind and soft with humanity in a way other gods often aren't, at least in some historic sources.

In the Lore Olympus comic series, Apollo is a villain. He's characterized as an abuser, a manipulator, and a violent man child. LO!Apollo is downright hateful, because the author wants us to hate him. Lore Olympus is a retelling of a myth about an abduction and forced marriage. Lore Olympus is also a romance. In order to get the audience to sympathize with Hades and root for his relationship with Persephone, Rachel Smythe needed to make someone else the villain. Apollo is the most obvious and extreme character assassination in Smythe's work, but several other gods (notably Demeter) also get the asshole makeover to tell the story Smythe wants to tell.

Here's where this becomes a problem: Hellenic polytheism is a fairly small religious community, while Lore Olympus is a massively popular webtoon with 1.3 billion views as of August 2023, print books available from major retailers, a TV adaptation in the works, and a very active online fandom. Rachel Smythe currently has a MUCH bigger platform than any Hellenic polytheism practitioner. Smythe and other authors are shaping how modern culture views the Hellenic gods, and that has a very real impact on their worshipers.

This means "Apollo is an abusive asshole" is becoming a popular take online, and is even creeping into pagan communities. I've personally seen people be harassed for worshiping Apollo because of it. I've seen new pagans and pagan-curious folks who totally misunderstand the roles Apollo, Hades, and Persephone play in the Hellenic pantheon because of Lore Olympus and other modern works of fiction.

There are tons of other examples of this in modern pop culture, but I'll just rattle off a few of the ones that annoy me most: Rick Riordan depicting Ares/Mars as a brutish asshole hyped up on toxic masculinity; Rick Riordan depicting Athena as a mother goddess; Marvel depicting Thor as a dumb jock; Marvel depicting Odin as a cold, uncaring father; DC depicting Ares as purely evil; whatever the fuck the Vikings TV show was trying to do with seidr; the list goes on.

All of these are examples of religious appropriation. Religious appropriation is when sacred symbols are taken out of their original religious context by outsiders, so that the original meaning is lost or changed. It requires a power imbalance -- the person taking the symbols is usually part of a dominant religious culture. In many cases, the person doing the appropriation has a much bigger platform than anyone who has the knowledge to correct them.

When Rick Rioridan or Rachel Smythe totally mischaracterizes a Greek god to tell a story, and then actual Hellenic pagans get harassed for worshiping that god, that's religious appropriation.

Religious appropriation is a real issue. This isn't just pagans being sensitive. To use an extreme example: Richard Wagner and other German Romantic authors in the 19th century used the Norse gods and other Germanic deities as symbols in their work, which was a major influence on Nazi philosophy. Without Wagner, the Nazis would not have latched onto the Norse gods as symbols of their white supremacist agenda. To this day, there are white supremacist groups who claim to worship our gods or who use our religious imagery in their hate movement. We are still reckoning with the misinterpretation of our gods popularized by Wagner and other German Romantics almost 200 years ago.

Again, no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction based on pagan mythology. But there are a few things you can do to help prevent religious appropriation in fandom spaces:

Above all else, be mindful that while this may just be a story to you, it is someone's religion.

Recognize that enjoying fiction based on our gods does not mean you know our gods. You know fictional characters with the same names as our gods, who may or may not be accurate to real-life worship.

Do not argue with or try to correct pagans when we talk about our experience of our gods.

Don't invalidate or belittle pagan worship. Again, this mostly comes down to recognizing that our religion is totally separate from your fandom. We aren't LARPing or playing pretend. Our sacred traditions are real and valid.

If you see other people in your fandom engaging in religious appropriation, point out what they are doing and why it isn't okay.

Please tag your fandom content appropriately on social media. Always tag the show, movie, book, etc. that a post is about in addition to other relevant tags. This allows pagans to block these fandom tags if we don't want to see them and prevents fandom content showing up in religious tags.

For example, if I'm posting about Athena from the Percy Jackson books, I would tag the post #athena #athenapjo #percyjackson #pjo. You get the idea.

And if fiction sparks your interest and you want to learn more about the actual worship of the gods, you can always ask! Most pagans love talking about our gods and trading book recs.

If you are writing fiction based on real mythology, talk to people who worship those gods. Ask them what a respectful portrayal would look like. If possible, include a note in your finished work reminding audiences that it is a work of fiction and not meant to accurately portray these gods.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Re-skimmed through a bunch of Dune Messiah last night because why not and now I am having thoughts:

The thing that sticks with me most is the tone. It's melancholy, it's eerie, it's unsettled and weird. Cannot think of a more pitch-perfect director for it than Denis Villeneuve. He's gonna nail it.

There is...not that much...actual story? Denis has referred to it in interviews as "a small book" and I'm like my guy it is 350 pages. But there are actually not that many plot beats. It's just that every. single. scene. is WILDLY overwritten. The real challenge of adapting Dune is not the giant worms or the dense complicated worldbuilding or the fact that actors have to say the name "Duncan Idaho" repeatedly with a straight face. It's that there are pages and pages and PAGES of internal monologue that have to be externalized somehow for film.

After a re-skim my gut instinct for "how much story goes in a feature film" is that if you just wrote out the dialogue and action that happens in every scene in the book in screenplay format you'd end up with...maybe about an hour of material? Which is great, actually, because it means there is room to add stuff. Like a whole new independent plotline for Chani if they decide to do that.

It may seem insane to add things to an adaptation of what's notoriously one of the wordiest series in classic sci-fi but it's worth remembering that they added quite a bit to Dune Part Two. Most of the first hour of the movie--almost everything before the worm ride except for Jessica drinking the Water of Life--is stuff that isn't in the book. And it's the best part of the movie essential to making the movie work as well as it does. Yes, they also cut elements from both parts (the dinner scene, the whole plotline where Gurney thinks Jessica is a Harkonnen spy, Thufir Hawat's fate, Leto II the Elder, murder toddler Alia) but I understand why each of those elements was cut or changed in the service of cinematic storytelling.

There's an interview (can't remember which one) with Jon Spaihts, the other co-writer of the scripts along with Denis, where he talks about how Dune is like a stage play, with so many of what would be the big action set pieces happening off-page. I kept thinking about that comparison while reviewing Dune Messiah because in addition to the scenes that do exist being wordy and internal as fuck, an absolutely insane list of major events/reveals/emotionally significant moments happen off-page. The list of things that we don't actually see in the main action of the story, that we're only told about after they happen, includes:

Chani finding out Irulan has been secretly dosing her with birth control for YEARS

People trying to capture a sandworm and take it off planet

Chani and Paul finding out Chani is pregnant after 12 years of trying to conceive

Paul flying an ornithopter carrying his extremely-about-to-go-into-labor partner while blind

CHANI DYING (first time reading I did NOT know this was coming and damn near threw my Kindle across the room at the way the information was delivered)

Alia executing a bunch of people including a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother

Paul walking into the desert at the end

You could add all these moments into a scene-for-scene film adaptation of the book and probably still have room to add more material.

The other thing that jumps out is that Paul doesn't really...govern...much. Like there's this whole subgenre of post-Dune/Dune Messiah-era fic that's just some combination of Paul, Chani, Irulan and sometimes Feyd traipsing around the palace having feelings while vague politics happens in the background, but I forgot that Dune Messiah is actually kinda like that??

There is a whole thread of Paul feeling kind of abstractly bad about being Space Hitler but he does not, in fact, actually do anything about it. And like yes both bureaucracies and religious movements can grow to have a life of their own that seems beyond the control of any one person. But also my dude you are the Emperor of the Known Universe. Someone is signing those space checks for the Endless War budget. You are not powerless here.

The one thing that really, clearly drives Paul to actively do things in the plot is not feeling guilty about having unleashed catastrophic religious war on the universe. It is protecting his family. Chani, Alia, his unborn children, and you could probably throw in Duncan by the end. That is what motivates him to act at key moments, and to want to hold on to power. And hey, y'know, if I'd experienced almost everyone I'd ever known getting murdered in a single night, I would probably get a bit intense about that too! It makes sense from a character point of view!

I'm very curious to see how these threads interweave with each other in the film, because the Villeneuve films put a lot of emphasis on Paul's agency and the fact that he may be constrained by shitty circumstances thousands of years in the making, but he still makes choices within that context. I can't see the narrative allowing film!Paul to get away with the same Poor Little Dictator routine as in the book. There are a few ways they could play this but I think the most interesting one is kinda the way they started going at the end of Part Two. Which is that as soon as you start reaching for that kind of power, then power becomes its own end and you will end up doing increasingly horrific things to maintain it. I think it would be quite interesting if the film shows us Paul not just being like "woe is me" but actively choosing to make the world worse because his trauma-driven fear of losing the people he loves makes him cling ever more desperately to power for its own sake.

If they went this route I think it would make Paul's decision at the end hit even harder. FWIW I actually really like Paul walking off into the desert at the end of the book. I think it brings things full circle with his relationship to the Fremen and creates this beautiful arc going back to the duel with Jamis. He first won a place among the Fremen through respecting their customs even though he really did not want to fight and kill someone he had no beef with. And by respecting the Fremen custom of the blind walking off into the desert, he proves himself to be fully Fremen and protects his children not by making them heirs to the throne but by making them Fremen.

And yeah, to a modern audience here on Earth it can look like "Paul conveniently fucks off and doesn't have to raise his newly-motherless children." And we can have a whole discussion about the unexamined ableism of the idea of someone who's gone blind voluntarily choosing death so as to "not be a burden" on their community. But neither of those readings is really the point here. Within the logic of Fremen cultural values, where the survival of the group as a whole is more important than the life of any one individual ("your water belongs to the tribe" etc.) Paul's choice is a willing and intentional self-sacrifice (see also: fedaykin) that wins him huge respect. There's a line in the book about Paul that's like "He would be one of them forever now" and damn if that didn't give me shivers. Like!! The political-symbolic implications!!! Which maybe I'm particularly attuned to because I just wrote a whole fic about what does it mean for an outsider to become Fremen but hmm something something Paul's final* act not being an exercise of Imperial power but an expression of kinship with an oppressed group and that being the thing that's needed to keep his family safe even if he is not physically present with them...IT IS RICH SYMBOLIC TERRITORY.

(*Yes yes I know about events in the next book. Shush.)

This kind of stuff is why I tend to think Chani may start out in a very different place in the story but the end will still be pretty close to what's in the book. It's too thematically powerful and tragic to go any other way.

But also...if they change things around enough that she is still alive at the end of the movie...I won't be sad about it.

[accio-victuuri]

November CPNs round-up 🔴🟡🟢

• the two of them featured in iqiyi conference

• yibo is not home so is he in italy with xz? lol

• XZ (we/us) album pre release clowning part one / part two

• jeanswest has a shirt that says we/us plus other cpf friendly designs

• teaser video for “we” music video appears to be post apocalyptic and matches with w1bo-85

• everything is lovely + fluorescence have the same orchestra group

• yibo’s 11/12 repost candies

• what cpfs are hearing during intro track

• i have to add this edit here because it’s so cute! it’s xz watching GRA! 😂😂😂😂

source

• the same staff/handler assisting them resurfaces in GRA and at yibo’s team

• another example of hengdian hawkeye! lol. OP said yibo looked at her at some point cause she thinks it’s because she was holding up xz/wyb photos + she is wearing a red dress. who knows if this was random but if it was me i will be deadened if yibo looked at me 😂😂😂😂

• CPNs from the second drop of songs from xz’s album

• the blue/water theme in the photos for SEA and Life of Us/Drifting

• caption by xzs for life of us/drifting references exploring

• burn after reading post that talks about an huibo stand in & gg allegedly sneaking in GRA

• clowning about the books featured in life of us/drifting music video + chanel coffee table books spotted in 2 different mvs

• a little sweet treat from lighthouse MV because it was posted on 13:00 and with 14 photos. 13:14

• XZS 🤝 YBO

• 16:23 kadian

• xz song title don’t look back significance to his life and similarity to wyb

• WYB went on a a rock climbing excursion post ETU in Miyu where Jade Dynasty was filmed.

• we see the matching moles again

• marie claire magazine similarities 🫶🏼 - i personally love this! all the edits! all the connections!

• why xz’s goodnight track is a love song and it’s cool that the MV for it was released on 11/28. Ai Bo. knowing that the other two “add-on” MVs were released on 11/14 and 11/22 TH and then FRI — maybe it’s a posting schedule back to TH but we wanna clown that it’s because of the 28!

• LHK allegedly has bobi zanbi dolls lol. He actually just said it seems he has one of those, but it could probably be just a character doll. but going by our history with LHK, we can’t help but clown lol

• Chanel interview and Bobo cues biking again

• 11/29 photos and the clownery that goes with it

<<< previous post

[cejav13]

Ayo Edebiri, and A24’s “Opus” along with Olivia Coleman (Chef Terry, The Bear) Jennifer Lopez and Benedict Cumberbatch lead the 2025 Sundance Film Festival lineup.

The annual Park City film festival, which brings together the best in indie cinema and often launches early Oscar contenders, takes place from January 23 to February 2, 2025.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

I was a skeptic about Criterion releasing any post-Showa Godzilla movies on disc, but lo and behold, they're teeing up Godzilla vs. Biollante, my favorite movie of all time, for 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray (or just plain Blu-ray) on March 18. The description:

SPECIAL EDITION FEATURES:

New 4K digital restoration, with 5.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack

In the 4K UHD edition: One 4K UHD disc of the film and one Blu-ray with the film and special features

New audio commentary featuring film historian Samm Deighan, host of the podcast Eros + Massacreand coeditor of the book Revolution in 35mm

Making-of program from 1993 featuring director Kazuki Omori and special-effects director Koichi Kawakita, among others

Short documentary from 1993 about the Biollante and Super X2 vehicle concepts

Deleted special effects

TV spots and trailers

New English subtitle translation

PLUS: An essay by science-fiction and horror film expert Jim Cirronella

Yes, this means they're skipping over The Return of Godzilla and not waiting until all the Heisei films are in their hands to unload them as another box set. I was surprised at first, but it makes sense. Biollante is the only Heisei movie Toho has released on 4K in Japan so far (with The Return of Godzilla and Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II joining it in June), and arguably the best-regarded. Toho's always going to prioritize the domestic market first, so this is Criterion's best shot at a new release during Godzilla's current swell of popularity.

I have mixed feelings, as is usual when any new English kaiju/tokusatsu home release is announced. I'm glad the movie is back in physical circulation; it's again become legendary as the most difficult Godzilla movie to find on home video for a reasonable price. Only one library in my county owns it, and that number is about to spike. It'll be a major visual upgrade to boot. The non-G54 movies in the Criterion Showa box set didn't have audio commentaries, so I'm glad they sprung for one this time. I'm not familiar with Samm Deighan's work, but I think she's the first woman to record an English commentary for a Godzilla movie.

But...

I saw the Criterion presentation of Godzilla vs. Biollante at the Dryden Theater in October, and the subtitles were... simply not proofread, or at least not proofread by anyone who should have a job in the field. "More typos than a Mill Creek Ultraman Blu-ray" was how I described it at the time. I believe Criterion is using a number of vintage (we're talking probably-shown-in-Hawaii) subtitle scripts for the Toho tokusatsu films they're made available on streaming but not on disc, and I dearly hope they show more care with the Biollante 4K.

There's also no English dub.

This suggests that Toho is now doing its best to bury all the pre-Reiwa Godzilla dubs, even the ones they commissioned themselves. I doubt Criterion will bother to include the film's English visuals either. So... the version of Biollante I rented from Blockbuster some 20 years ago, the version I grew up with, will just be completely erased from the latest-and-greatest (and last?) edition. Depressing stuff. The current incarnation of Toho might be embarrassed by those old dubs, but as an indignant woman in the Diet Building once exclaimed, the truth is the truth! And Biollante's one of the films I prefer to watch dubbed (for one, nobody can argue that the English the actors spoke on set was better than that recorded by the Hong Kong Players).

Lesser concerns: I'll have to double-check, but I think the making-of program and the short documentary were on the old Echo Bridge discs too. The trailers would be new, but, well, they're trailers. So potentially nothing fresh in the featurette department, certainly not a retrospective with surviving cast and crew. (Somebody get one of those done before we lose even more of them!) And I do feel bad for Ed Godziszewski, whose commentary for Echo Bridge was effectively pocket-vetoed by Toho and is now truly never going to see the light of day.

Bleh.

[vidavalor]

Ugrency

A little meta on the word Maggie accidentally created with her misspelling that really feels like it might well be the whole story:

Ugrency.

TW: some mentions of depression and suicide ideation.

When Aziraphale read the note aloud to himself, he pronounced the word Maggie had unintentionally created as: "ug-REN-see". We'll look at those words-within-the-word first.

Ug: A feeling of fear and/or dread; a sense of intense malaise. Original spelling of ugh.

Ren: Of or relating to the kidneys or, in earlier eras, also the loins. The kidneys process waste. Untreated kidney damage can lead to kidney failure, which can be fatal. S2 has quite a bit of kidney failure... Aziraphale is shown to be struggling with all of his understandably overwhelming emotions regarding his status with Heaven... and, also, some ups and downs with trying to help the kids in Maggie and Nina.

Ren: An earlier spelling of to run. Did you teach the ostrich to run? S2 features a lot of being on the run (Gabriel) and running maybe a little too fast (Aziraphale). Running is also getting quickly away from something and while Gabriel was able to do that, Aziraphale wound up trapped (for now) in The Final 15.

Ren: A watchdog/guard dog. From aernn, which also contains ren in its pronunciation, and which meant a house.

Here's the South Downs Cottage stress and feeling stuck in the bookshop and wanting to move but unsure how to safely do that.

Ren: In old Danish and several other languages: a reindeer.

Reindeers are animals synonymous with Christmas, which is all over S2, from references to the upcoming and contentious Christmas lights to allusions to different Christmas films, all of which feature themes related to mental health ('It's a Wonderful Life'; 'Elf'; 'A Christmas Carol').

Ren: A lotus. The lotus flower rug and all the mindfulness and Buddhist mudras in Crowley and Aziraphale's magic.

Ren: Homophone: Wren. The nightingale-wren bird. This is the bird that is on the farthing that Aziraphale vanishes in 1941, Part 2.

While I think that this scene is mostly about hidden language, it's also a little unnerving on another level when you consider that the pair of coins is representing Crowley and Aziraphale... only for then the one that is also, through ugrency, aligned with Aziraphale, to then be vanished by Aziraphale.

Technically, they're both nightingales/nightingale-wrens but Maggie's ugrency would then be referring to Aziraphale as the wren and that's the one on the vanished coin and *shudders*...

Especially since they literally faded to black/the stars in the closing credits. Lots of death happening here and, yes, the coin is up Aziraphale's sleeve the entire time and not fully gone but he has, effectively, disappeared that coin in that moment.

There is something a bit suicidal in that and it's also sitting in the middle of the minisode about imposter syndrome and depression. It's there in the same part of the story that mentions bananafish in a season with a character named Muriel-- both of which are, among other things, references to J.D. Salinger's story about PTSD, "A Perfect Day for Bananafish". This meta has more on that and the mental health crisis plot in S2, should you be interested.

There is another word within ugrency that we can see in Maggie's note: gren.

Gren: A branch of a tree; both a literal and a figurative branch or a division in a road or a river where the road or river divides; a "fork in the road."

In this way, a gren is a point where a decision needs to be made about which direction to go in for the future.

It's when you feel like you don't know anything anymore but you're totally certain that everything would be better if you could just be near that one, particular person... you know you're at a fork in the road but you're just struggling to figure out how to safely take the path you want to take.

Gren: Something that branches from something else. A branch of a company; a branch of a family.

Gren: Part of the etymological origin of the word pomegranate, which is derived from the Old French pome grenate, meaning apple of many seeds.

Pomegranates are present in the Job minisode cellar scene but are not offered by Crowley nor consumed by Aziraphale. The fruit plays a prominent role in the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone to which Good Omens has alluded in different scenes. More on that in my response post over here, if interested.

In Modern French, it was actually pome grenade... and that is the origin of the word grenade, meaning: a small explosive shell. In the early 1500s and for an unknown amount of time prior, grenade was actually first the name for the pomegranate.

Not entirely sure where I'm going with this, other than that it is suggestive of revolution or, at least, of blowing up existing structures of a life, and also that it makes me think of Agnes turning herself into a human pomegranate.

Gren: from the Old English grennian/the Germanic grennan, which were old variants of the word grin. A grin originally meant a smile that is a snarl of pain and/or anger.

Ugrency = You gren, see...

Urgency: The word that Maggie meant to write. Something of high importance that requires immediate attention and swift action to be taken. Also: Urgency: an earnest and persistent quality; determination, doggedness, tenacity... also: obstinance, begging, pleading.

Within urgency, the word from which it is derived:

Urge: A strong desire or impulse.

To Urge: To try earnestly and persistently to persuade someone to do something.

Urgence: The French word for emergency.

Emergency: A sudden situation requiring immediate attention.

Also Emergency, though... not to go up, but...

To rise up ✊ and to rise up and out of a situation. 😊