#when his role ended on disco

[ansonmountdaily]

Star Trek: Discovery ending in 2024

Anson Mount wrote a beautiful message after news came out that Star Trek: Discovery will be ending with a final 5th season in 2024:

"My Dearest Discovery Family,

You have charted the stars far beyond where our imaginations had ever taken us. In so doing, you have accomplished the mission: you have changed many lives, including mine. I love you, always.

- Captain Christopher Pike USS Enterprise, NCC-1701"

On his Instagram he also shared a cast group photo from Season 2.

Source: Anson Mount Official Twitter and Instagram, March 3 2023

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[vidavalor]

Odegra and The Language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu

Let's decode Disco Tony's hilarious work presentation. On the known history of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu under the cut.

Right, so, a few of you have requested word nerdery on the Odegra scene so here we go... For a refresher, here's the dialogue with the wordplay-significant bits that we'll look at bolded:

Crowley: So, thanks to three computer hacks, selected bribery, and me moving some markers across a field one night, the M25 London Orbital Motorway, which was supposed to look like this, will, when it opens in 1986, actually look like this [shows a terrible picture of, more or less, the same thing lol] and represent the dread sigil 'Odegra' in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu. 'Odegra' means 'Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds.' Can I hear a wahoo?

[Some of the demons have enough energy to half-boo; most just continue to sit there looking miserable. Of all of them, only Beez looks like they might be getting how bullshit this all is and, either way, they still have no idea what Crowley is actually saying and really couldn't care less.]

Crowley: Once it's built, the millions of motorists who grumble their way around it are going to be like water on a prayer wheel grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London. [Hastur raises his hand with a question.] Yes, Duke Hastur?

Hastur: What's a computer?

---

A lot of the humor of the scene comes from the fact that, unlike the demons, we know that a word as short as 'Odegra' cannot possibly mean something as long as 'Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds'... and 'Odegra' isn't a word familiar to many of us in the first place, adding to the feeling that Crowley is b.s.-ing the demons. The scene ending with Hastur asking for a definition of 'computer'-- basically, the first word Crowley said in what we see of the presentation lol-- exists as the punchline to the presentation and the scene as a whole, showing us that Crowley is correct in believing that there is no one in the room who can really tell that he's playing them.

Still, we know that language is a big thing on Good Omens (and that's an understatement) and Crowley is saying something... so, can we use the rules of Ineffable Husbands Speak that we've been looking at to figure out what, exactly, Crowley might be saying? Seems we can and, as you'll see, when we do, it becomes apparent very quickly that this presentation to Hell about the highway that Crowley describes as a demonically evil masterpiece exhibiting reverence to Satan and all things satanic is actually about Aziraphale and their world together and Crowley is getting a kick out of watching that fly over the heads of his audience. Crowley definitely performed this presentation for Aziraphale at some point, though (maybe rehearsed it a la Aziraphale's magic show?). Aziraphale enjoyed it a great deal more than the demons of Hell did, since it was written to amuse him.

Odegra: Odegra, a word that doesn't exactly exist in this form... but that Crowley didn't entirely make up either. Professional midwife that he is, Crowley used rules of human language to birth it into existence from a pre-existing word. If odegra did exist (and, honestly, Crowley using it and it being in Good Omens means it now does exist in both his and our worlds), it would be derived from the only word like it that does exist-- the Polish odegrac. What's hilarious is that odegrac means... to get one over on someone (not kidding lol)... as well as: to put on a performance and to play act a role.

So, the word Crowley is claiming means something in an ancient human language that doesn't exist is actually a word he made up that is of a word that does exist... and that word means to fool someone, to put on a performance, and to act a part. That is both how Crowley performs "demonicness"-- with the Odegra scene itself a perfect example-- and also how Crowley and Aziraphale behave performatively together in public to fool Heaven and Hell and hide their relationship.

Additionally, performance and act are words that can be, on another level, sexually euphemistic, and Crowley and Aziraphale both use act in that way in the Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene of The Blitz, Part 2. It somehow gets even better, though, because hiding their relationship is not the only reason why they have a secret language. Another way Odegra can also be defined gets into that and that's when we take into account how their wordplay is big on the words contained within words-- something used not just in their language but in the show itself, beginning with, as we've looked at in other metas, its opening shot of the word 'war' within the word 'warning'.

Odegra contains ode and gra. An ode is a lyrical poem and a poem is wordplay. Odes are specifically written in tribute to someone or something. That is what they're doing when they use their secret birdsong and why they use it when alone in addition to in public; its born both out of the need to be able to speak to one another in a coded way when they might be overheard and out of flirtation and combines the two. One of the most famous odes in existence is Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," which is also a word that we have seen that they use as shorthand for their language and for how they feel about each other.

As for the gra part of Odegra? It's a Polish word for game (as in, to play a game... like, say, a wordplay game.) But, also...

...gra is an Irish word for love.

Odegra, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, actually means secret love language.

Some demons torture and murder-- Crowley hijacks plans for Freeways of Love out of transportation-related innuendo amusement, remakes them into a soppy apple-heart-looking thing for his boyfriend, and passes them off as an evil work assignment, ok? 😂

The M25 in image forms "the dread (a subtle suggestion for the demons in there *snicker*) sigil Odegra in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu" aka Nightingale Speak/Odegra/Whatever They Actually Call It, if they call it anything at all... what we've been calling Ineffable Husbands Speak. For why Crowley is jokingly referring to their secret language in this way, let's start with Mu...

If, in the GO universe, dinosaurs basically don't exist and The Earth is only a little over 6,000 years old, it's doubtful that there's anything to the Lost Continent of Atlantis, sometimes referred to as Mu or Lemuria. Crowley would know, since he's been on Earth since The Beginning and, since he's trolling the demons with this presentation, he's likely pretending that Mu existed, knowing that the demons won't know the difference.

When referring to The Lost Continent idea, Mu comes from Lemuria, which is what the theorized continent was named because it derived as a way of trying to explain fossils of lemurs that were found in spots people didn't think fit with what they knew of history at the time. All of this was discredited scientifically prior to when Crowley is making the presentation but Lemuria is popular with occultists. It sounded satanic to reference it in the presentation, which is probably how Crowley arrived at using it-- but it seems he really did for the demonicness on the surface but for its other meaning on a hidden language level. Mu/Lemuria/Atlantis is not the only definition of Mu and it's really the other one that Crowley is referencing. The Ancient Mu to whom Crowley is really referring is him and Aziraphale-- extremely old beings with a fondness for the other Mu-- the Greek letter that became what we now call today the letter M.

Mu evolved from the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph meaning water and, then, the Phoenician word for water. Anything related to water/the sea/fish, etc.., as we've looked at before, is a sexual metaphor and related to orgasm in Ineffable Husbands Speak, rooted in Aziraphale using oysters euphemistically to ask Crowley to bed for the first time in ancient Rome. The ancient Greeks eventually turned Mu into the letter M, which Crowley and Aziraphale use often and with a lot of intentionality as a word that has existed in basically all languages since the beginning of time: mmm, the sound of human pleasure and satiation, as we looked at in the Crowley & Plosives meta. The Ancient Mu = Crowley and Aziraphale, who are really old, longtime sailors together on The Sea of Mmm.🐟

[An aside but M is also the name of James Bond's boss. Crowley is a big Bond fan and, we speculate, was likely an allied spy during WW2 so maybe there's something in here as well to add to the idea that Crowley influenced Bond a bit.]

Mu has had different pronunciations but the most common one is homophonic for moo, which is the sound of the milk-producing cow. I don't think further detail is really needed on that one...

Mu can also be pronounced at times like the French moue, which comes from an early meaning of lips and evolved into meaning someone pouting. Crowley busts out a moue a lot-- sometimes genuinely, sometimes in jest.

Finally, mu is the Greek root of the word for something Crowley and Aziraphale both enjoy (and both like to speak about euphemistically at times): music.

The Dark Priesthood bit is pure blasphemy. Crowley and Aziraphale are, technically, members of opposing religious orders. Aziraphale is an angel of God, which is more or less akin to a human priest, while Crowley is, technically, a dark priest/diabolical minister. Religious trauma and conflicts for days aside, they're both more pagans of the good times, as Irish God Hozier would call it, with a yen for equating the sexual with the spiritual in their wordplay.

In S2, we have a parallel to the Odegra scene and others like it with entries shown to us in a publication of Hell--'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth'-- in which Crowley and Aziraphale wrote each other spicy love letters in their language and published them under the noses of Heaven & Hell without anyone ever catching on. In those entries, they both refer to each other using different religious terms (guru, different ancient gods, a particularly 'hot priest' turn through the etymology of bishop...). There's also, of course, that priests in many religions take a vow of celibacy, which then makes it more amusing to refer to themselves as a priesthood in wordplay referring to themselves as lovers.

Etymologically, the word priest comes from the Greek presbyteros, which means elder/old/venerable so, like their use of ancient, it's also something of a play on how they are quite literally older than dirt and also that they've been a thing for awhile now.

In addition to signifying a group, a hood is also both clothing that shields one from the rain and what we call the canopy covering of a car.

Crowley is making it sound in his presentation to the demons that Odegra means something evil and demonic in an ancient language of satanic priests when, really, it's a word he made up for his and Aziraphale's spicy and romantic little language and they're not devil-worshippers but devout members of The Church of The Vavoom.

The Dark Priesthood... Dark is a fun word by their rules because it's a word they could probably say a lot in public since it sounds all demonic but we have seen that their language is built, in part, around words within other words and also uses a lot of French so Dark = Dark and D'Ark. It actually refers to The Ark or is Of The Ark, which we can take as a reference to the events of The Flood. Since The Flood is referenced in S2 in the Job minisode and keeps coming up in other places (and since we've seen precious little of it so far), it's potentially another hint that all that rain-sheltering canopy vavooming Crowley was going on about in S2 was he and Aziraphale during The Flood and that we might see that in S3.

It sounds like if one of them says dark, they're actually referencing-- at least, in part-- The Vavoom kiss. Like Crowley was, on one level of what he said, in 1941:

In the book, the Odegra stuff is the same but for the word dark-- it's The Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu instead. The word black is also in their wordplay in the show, though, and shows up in the same scene in 1941 as Crowley saying "shades of... dark grey." The word black contains the word lac, the substance secreted by an insect that is used as shellac. Lac is also the French word for lake. One of you asked me to word out The Blitz, Part 2's Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene so we can talk more about how Crowley uses black in that scene in that meta down the line. We're actually not yet done with Odegra, though, because...

Odegra also can be pronounced like "Eau de grah." Eau is French for water-- so, it would be "water of grah"/"grah water" when mixing French in. Grah is a fascinatingly Good Omens-y word... In German, it's a variant word for gray. In Slovenian? It means pea. (Frozen peas!) In Croatian? Beans and bean soup. Peas and beans are both seeds, which occur a lot in their speak and are going to be their own meta at some point, since quite a few of you want me to write about the 'Seeds of Destruction' scene in S1. In Hindi and Nepali, it means planet-- akin to world...

The especially damn one, though, is that, in Albanian, grah means *both* to rattle and to roar. Serpents rattle. Lions roar. Crowley is both. Rather hilariously, he even roared as a lion once while shapeshifted into a snake which.... isn't quite to what this wordplay would be referring lol... but it adds additional humor to that scene.

So you say, Crowley... Anyway, lastly, in Sanskrit, grah also means: to seize, to take, and to hold. Mmm...

Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds:

Hail: Besides hailing someone in the worshipful way Crowley suggests here, there's hail-- hard rain. Within hail: hai, a kind of keelboat and also the word for shark in several languages (Finnish and Estonian, among them) and ail, homophone: ale aka alcohol. You also used to (pre-Uber/Lyft, etc.)-- and can often still-- hail transportation, like a cab... an extra funny pun since it's used during Crowley's M25 presentation.

Great: The original meanings (some of which obviously still exist now) were big, massive, thick, and coarse. Rooted in ghreu, which meant to rub and to grind.

Great: Contains gre and eat. Gre, in Welsh, means all of these: a stud of horses, a flock and a herd. So, there's the horses, ducks, birds and other animals that show up in their speak and the show itself. In the Old French, gre meant pleasure and goodwill and, in Middle English, it meant kindness, understanding and satisfaction. It's also connected to the word gray in Old Scottish Gaelic. The eat bit is self-evident-- a nod to all the food used euphemistically in their speak (and the real food they do enjoy together as well.)

Crowley also uses great in summary of he and Aziraphale in S2 when he dryly tells Maggie how much he and Aziraphale talk-- but uses their language, which she obviously doesn't understand, to do so because, honestly, Maggie telling Crowley that he doesn't know how communicate in a relationship is about the same thing as it would be if Muriel sat him down and said he needed to listen to them when it comes to their superior knowledge of sexual innuendo. It's ridiculous. ("I say something brilliant and he says something unintentionally funny back. It's great." Rill = a stream; tent = canopy, etc..)

The Great Beast... Beast: Contains be, homophone: bee, and east. Bees, as we learned in S2, are angels. Aziraphale is Crowley's angel and The Angel of the Eastern Gate, whose desk is in the Eastern part of the compass bookshop, which is also the direction of the arrow being pointed by the bookshop's Cupid sculpture in S1. The Great Beast = Aziraphale.

"The beast with two backs" has also been euphemistic for sex since the 1500s and was immortalized by Shakespeare in Othello... and, by that, we mean was probably immortalized by Crowley in Othello lol... A beast has also long been a flirty thing to call someone who uses lewd and lascivious language.

GIF by aftermath-meme

Devourer of Worlds:

Devourer: We know what this is lol but just to fine print it here... Devour comes from the Latin devolare, meaning both to swallow down and to accept eagerly. Earliest forms contain the same meanings we have today for the word: to entirely consume; to eat ravenously.

By the early 1600s, devour evolved to also mean to take in hungrily with the eyes. I suppose here is where it might be funny to also point out that both ravenous and swallow are words that are also related to birds.

World: Often relates to the state of existence of human beings. Sometimes used in religious settings by humans to differentiate between the secular world and Earth versus Heaven and the world of the afterlife-- the "worldly affairs" of Earth. Can sometimes refer to the celestial-- "other worlds." The universe is another name for the world-- a system of created things, one started by Crowley and Aziraphale themselves. Also: homophonic for whirled: a swirling of something-- usually, of a mind or of water, like a whirlpool.

A world, though, can just be a person's own life and the people in it, and a romantic way of referring to your partner. You could, for instance, toast the world of the planet you just helped save and also be toasting one another-- your own, mutual, private world-- at the same time, as many of us suspect was the case here:

Crowley also says that the motorists, as they "grumble" along the highway will be "like water on a prayer wheel, grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London." There is a bit of wordplay in here as well.

Grumble: Means to complain in a low voice but also originally had the additional meaning of the word within it that evolved into a separate word-- to rumble, as in to make a low, rumbling sound or murmur. While these hypothetical motorists are rumbling their way around The Freeway of Love, they're doing so like water on a prayer wheel.

Crowley knows that not a soul in the room knows what a Tibetan prayer wheel is or what it is meant to do. It just sounds like stuff the demons would think is an appropriately evil way to feel. The other part of the joke is that the term prayer wheel is actually misleading and a mistranslation of the Tibetan. Mantras, not prayers, are put on paper inside the wheel (which is cylindrical, not really even round-wheel-shaped, though it does go around) while a mantra or two is usually printed on the outside of the wheel. It's more about visualization than prayer-- which goes with how this flashback scene is tied to Crowley literally visualizing and willing himself and the burning Bentley through the M25 ring of fire.

It's the height of irony because the idea is that anytime someone turns a prayer wheel and focuses on the positive energy they are generating from doing so and thinking on or saying the mantras it contains, they're actually sending out positive energy to everyone around them. Crowley is giving a presentation in which he's claiming that these motorists on the M25 would be spreading negative energy because they'd be stuck in an exercise as pointless as spinning a prayer wheel when, in actuality, he's thinking about how the grumps in Hell could use some prayer wheels being spun in their direction.

On an euphemistic level, though, Crowley, is in his happy place being metaphorical water on a metaphorical prayer wheel. More sexuality-as-spirituality blasphemy at play with that and also a nod to how a lot of how he and Aziraphale are living is closer in line with Buddhist teachings than with other religions. S2 highlights that a bit, showing both Crowley and Aziraphale employing mudras (both inside and outside of performing miracles) and the lotus flower mandala rug they have on the floor to cover up The Heavenly Zoom of Discorporation, etc...

These motorists will be grinding out (does not need further explanation lol, other than to point out that you also grind seeds/pulses and coffee)...

...an endless fog (fog in a sense of headspace with relation to sex; etymology ties to damp, in a possible nod to the 597 AD scene; endless potentially hinting loosely at edging, which is in another 32 scenes more directly so not really a reach; also: endless, in the sense of viewing how they are and feel as eternal...)

...of low-grade evil (original definition of evil pertained to "sin" and still does-- "low-grade evil" would be akin to mild "sin"; grade repeats gra and also contains ade: as in, a drink made of fruit, like lemonade. Homophones: aid and aide-- so, care and support)...

....that will encircle the whole (both whole, as in: all of, and hole, as in: yeah, I'm pretty sure ya got this one...)...

...of London. London is wordplay, you ask? Oh, yes, seems to be. It's also in 'Demon's Guide...' as well, likely because...

London: contains lon and don. A don, among other things, is the formal Spanish title for a gentleman. Lon is an Irish word for blackbird and a Norwegian one for a gently-flowing creek. (Yes, they are that specific in the definition on the water movement.) The word London as a whole comes from the Proto-Celtic Londinjon, meaning: place that floods and, for a little ocean-themed destructive sexual metaphor fun, the Proto-Indo-European lendh, meaning: to sink.

So that endless fog of low-grade evil will be encircling the whole of London forevermore, thanks to Crowley's demonic design of the M25 orbital motorway. After all of that, it's clear to see why Crowley dryly thought that a wahoo (a positive yay! response but, also, a kind of fish... so, an orgasm) was in order. Some jolly good wordplay, that. Instead, at the end of Crowley's presentation, Hastur asks a question:

"What's a computer?"

In fairness to Hastur, while computers had existed for awhile by the 1970s, they weren't in everyone's houses yet and he didn't get up to Earth that often. (Good on him, actually, for even asking a question in the first place, when most of them didn't.) While the joke exists to highlight the fact that none of the demons got a single lick of what Crowley just said because Hastur's back with a question on what was only about the fourth word of many that Crowley said, there's also that it highlights that Hastur and the other demons lack the language ability to work out, through language comprehension and/or context, what a computer might be. They can't compute what a computer could be, basically.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth since the start and have been a part of the evolution of language. They understand how it's a living thing. They know the relationships between root words, which many of us also do just instinctively from living, speaking and reading and they do on a level of being walking, talking etymological dictionaries. The angels and demons technically speak all the languages of the world but, because they don't live in that world, they don't really understand language... and they are definitely miles away from Crowley and Aziraphale's capability of playing with it to the point of having created their own language out of the languages of the world.

Hastur's question is the meta joke of the scene and so we're going to finish up here by looking at it, too, even though it's not part of Crowley's wordplay. Ironically for Hastur, the word computer comes from the Latin putare which means, quite literally, to think, as well as to prune, in a way that means to filter and discern information. The 'com' part of it related to the Latin cum, meaning with and together.

What's funny about the question from a Crowley and Aziraphale's language speak perspective is that the reason why Aziraphale must have lost it laughing when Crowley told him what question Hastur asked is because their approach to the word would be to compute it by taking it apart and remaking it into also having a different layer of meaning within their language.

The first bit of com and its connection to cum and to come is something they already use all over the place, for obvious reasons. As for the rest of it... puter, depending on accent, can pronounced as puta, which is derogatory Spanish slang for a woman who has many sexual encounters and/or is a sex worker.

To compute to Crowley and Aziraphale would mean to think and discern, sure, but in Ineffable Husbands Speak, could be used to mean spending some quality time with a fellow seamstress.

So Hastur, who didn't understand much of anything in Crowley's presentation, asked for the everyday English definition of the one word in it that Crowley wasn't using in his sea of wordplay... but which, when used in Ineffable Husbands Speak, would ironically be defined as a short version of exactly what Crowley was on about for the entire presentation.

And this is probably why if you asked Aziraphale in Crowley's presence if he was ever going to get a new computer, he'd likely tell you he prefers to stick with his classic, first gen apple. It's the only one that's ever truly been great.

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter one: a new beginning

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and it slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. This is my first time writing anything, so this might end up being pretty bad lmao. I kinda have an idea of where I want to take this and want to continue this even if no one reads it. Please let me know what you think! Thank you and enjoy. <3

chapter summary: Angie books y/n an audition opportunity and she is terrified. Y/n reflects on her insecurities and heads to the audition room. 

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

It was 9am and you’ve been staring at an email Angie had sent earlier in the morning. The subject read “AUDITION INFO BIATCH”. This would usually be deemed pretty unprofessional for an agent to send a client but Angie wasn’t just  your agent, she was also your long time best friend. You both had big dreams of making it big in Los Angeles and made the move six years ago. While you continued to search for acting jobs, Angie decided to become an agent after years of no luck. You wished you could give up, maybe gain some happiness back instead of having constant disappointment running around your head like it was trying to win a goddamn gold medal at the olympics. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Good morning sunshine, 

You have an audition scheduled for 3PM tomorrow! I attached all the details down below. If you need anything, give me a call babe! 

Sincerely, 

Angie Hawthorn (aka the best agent ever hehe) 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You read over the email and clicked on the files attached. One file was the original casting call information describing what they are looking for and a description of the project. The other was an audition offer explaining what you needed to prepare and where the audition would be held. You clicked on the casting call file and began to read it. 

“Fleeting Productions presents Risky Disco directed by Samual James.”

You stared blankly at the first sentence. “That is such a stupid fucking move title..” you huffed under your breath. You shook your head and continued reading. 

“Starring Pedro Pascal as Daniel Mendez. Daniel travels back in time to the 70s to live his dream of being a disco king. On his journey, he takes lovers every chance he gets and swears to himself that he won’t fall in love.” 

You picked your phone and called Angie. When she answers the phone she greets you with excitement.

“Y/n! Oh my god are you excited?!? This can be your big break. Your first audition for a big production company!!” You stared blankly at the wall while she spoke. “You’re fucking with me right? Like you have to actually be fucking with me..” You said with exasperation. She was silent for a moment. “What do you mean? This is great y/n. I’m not sure-” You cut her off before she could continue. “Angie, I need you to be so fucking for real right now. Did you read that shit show of a description?” She didn’t answer for a moment. “What’s so bad about it?” “Ang…you’re telling me, you saw this casting call, and thought of me? You have known me for how long? What about me is screaming 70s lover girl to a disco maniac? First of all, I'm fat. You know F A T. Fat girls don’t exist in the 70s it’s like-” The line goes dead. “Hello? Ang I’m trying to rant to you over here, don’t you care?” You looked down and noticed she hung up on you. “That stupid bitch.” You say in aggravation. As you go to call her again, a text pops up.

“Call me when you’re done being a self shaming loser <3”

You sighed and sat your phone down. You know that what you say isn’t always nice and you also know that Angie can’t stand when you talk down on yourself. It’s become a bad habit you can’t seem to break. You grab your water bottle from your night stand, take a sip, and continue to read over the audition information. 

“Our casting directors are looking for 12 women from the ages 35-40. All weights accepted. All skin tones accepted. One role will be filled as the leading lady alongside the leading male. The 11 other roles will be filled as lovers of the leading male. Each role may include sexual acts with a male actor as well as partial or full nudity. All actors will work closely with an intimacy coach before all scenes.” 

Okay, you definitely owe Angie an apology since they're throwing a weight limit out the window on this film. This film has the potential to be very… wait what the fuck does that say? You pick up your phone to call Angie again. 

“Are you done being a loser?” 

“Angie, honey, darling, my love…Why does it say that the age requirements are 35-40? I’m trying to be very calm about this right now but I really need to know what you were thinking in that little pea brain of yours? Hm.. a 24 year old auditioning for a role that is for a middle aged woman, what was the thought process behind that one love?” 

“Y/n I need you to keep that calm demeanor when I tell you this. Can you do that?” You think about your answer and sigh. “Yes I can do that. Spill the beans.” “Okay so, I might have sort of lied and said that you were 35…” You stood silent on the other end for a few seconds. “YOU DID WHAT???” “Y/n calm down it-” “HOW IN THE WORLD IS MY FRESH 24 YEAR OLD BABY FACE GOING TO PRETEND TO BE 35?? HUH ANGIE??” “Well you don’t have that much of a baby face, you can pull off 35.” “I’m gonna hang up now before I actually kick you in the head.” You hung up the phone and screamed into your pillow. 

It can’t be that hard to pretend to be 35 right? You sat up and set your head in your hands and took some deep breaths. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

After your mini freak out yesterday you went to work and got home at 8pm. You showered, ate, did some rehearsing, and hit the hay. You woke up at 7am the next morning and began getting ready for your audition. You searched pinterest to look for an appropriate outfit for a 35 year old. As you descaled your closet, you began to feel hopeless. After settling for an outfit, you headed to the kitchen to eat some breakfast and do some warmups. As it got closer to audition time, you started to feel the nervous butterflies entering your tummy. You took your phone off the charger to send Angie a quick text. 

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you yesterday, please forgive me my love. ♥ ️ Also OOTD, do I look 35? Oh and why the fuck are they casting that age for a disco movie… Love you!” You went to sit your phone down but immediately got a response from Angie. 

“It’s okay, you don’t look a day under 40 babe <3. And girl idk. I think it’s because Pedro is pushing 50.” 

“Okay fuck you. Who’s Pedro?” 

“Ummmm… the leading male. Like the whole ass dude you're probably going to be getting down and dirty with if you get this part. Did you not look him up?” 

“There ain’t no fucking way you lied about my age so I can bump and grind with a 50 year old man… I’m actually going to kill you.”

“Girl he’s hot as fuck, I’m doing you a favor. Who gives a shit if he's old, he can get it ANY day ;)” 

“You’re fucking gross dude. I gotta head out soon to try to beat a little bit of the traffic. Wish me luck. Love you!!”

“Love you girly, break a leg!”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You turned into the studio lot and parked when you found the building the auditions were being held in. You’ve been to the studios more times than you can count, but this time felt different. This time felt real. You entered the building and walked up to a woman at a desk. “Hi, I’m here for an audition.” You smiled and she handed you a form to fill out. Once you were finished you handed it back to her and she instructed you to wait until your name was called. You looked around as you sat and waited. There were only 4 other women waiting in the room. As you looked at them, all of your insecurities started to pour out. This was not the time to be doubting yourself. You settled on looking down at your shoes instead. Each woman was called back one by one until you were the only one left. 

“Y/n Y/l/n?” You got up and greeted the man that called your name. As you followed him to the back your heart began to pound. Once you got to the door, you shook out your nerves and plastered the most sincere smile you could muster. 

You opened the door and walked up to a table in the back of the room. You shook everyone's hands and handed them your material. You stood in the center of the room and began your slate. After the prepared material was performed, they asked you various questions. You were answering with all honesty. Even flying by their questioning of your age. “Your paper states that you're 35. You look really young for that age.” You gulped “Just good genes I guess.” You gave them a laugh and a smile to which they returned. “We’re going to have to do a quick reading with some sides from the movie if that’s okay with you?” “Of course, that would be great!”.

You got into character as they handed you the slides. “You’ll actually be reading with the leading man himself. Pedro, whenever you’re ready go ahead and start.” You looked over to where the man looked when he spoke. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at who they spoke to, Pedro you assumed. He smirked as you stared. How didn’t you notice him before? With a face that handsome, you’re thankful you somehow skipped over it. He for sure would have had you shaking with even more nerves. 

“You ready to start sweetheart?” You could have melted into a puddle right then and there. After a few seconds of silence you collected yourself. “Yea, I’m ready.” He gave you a smile and looked into your eyes. The two of you flowed through the lines with ease. It was like butter melting perfectly on a warm piece of toast. The type of toast that is so perfect, you don’t need to add jelly at all. It’s golden and beautiful. The chemistry between you two was golden. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

4 hours later…

The reading with Pedro was intense. There are no other words to describe it. Everything felt so natural and it was electric. The whole room got 10 degrees warmer by the end. Once the reading was over, everyone thanked you for your time and you were dismissed. You thanked them and gave a quick bye. You tried to sneak one last glance at Pedro but he was already looking at you. These memories that happened just a few hours prior keep swimming in your head. No matter how hard you tried to think about something else, you couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome man and how he looked at you.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts when your phone starts ringing. It was Angie. 

“Hey Ang, what’s up?” 

“Bitch….you must have left one hell of an impression.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Y/n you got the lead!” 

“Oh shit..” 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ 

Thank you for reading <3

chapter two

[lilyminer]

In Disco Elysium I’m fascinated by the role each of Harry’s partners (in the police sense, sorry Dora) plays in the narrative. As well as what both working relationships you witness say about Harry’s past and future.

Harry is one hell of a complicated character and it was such a smart decision to reflect who he is and who he can become through other characters perceptions of him.

Let’s go in order of when we meet them in game so let’s start with Mr. Kim Kitsuragi (pause for applause). No matter what you do throughout the game Kim can at least acknowledge one thing about Harry, he’s damn good at his job. Excluding any horrifically morally bankrupt playthroughs he slowly grows fond of Harry’s various character quirks and the little errands he runs around town to help people out certainly don’t hurt his perception of the man. Harry is still a mess but Kim helps you feel like you’re at least redeemable, that getting better is a journey worth undertaking. Kim is a logical man, he clearly sees that you’re a mess, but you’re a mess he can tolerate. In short Kim teaches you that Harry is a mess now but there’s hope he won’t always be a mess.

Then there is poor Mr. Jean Vicquemare. Jean’s perception of Harry is well supported in evidence, free of any illusions of optimism, and continuous for years before the time of the game itself begins. Jean is, by all accounts the narrative gives us, right about Harry. When I first played the game I saw him as kind of a downer, I just solved the case, found the phasmid, saved the day, yet this guy is still insisting I’m not good enough? But that’s just because I was still trying to see only the best in Harry. (I role played a bit too hard and ended up projecting a bit give me a break) Harry was horrible to the people around him for years before the start of the game. Jean is a reality check, he’s simply there to let the player know, solving this one case doesn’t fix how much Harry has hurt the people around him. And of course it doesn’t, it would be incredibly irresponsible for the game to even try to insinuate that.

But I really love how the game wraps this narrative dichotomy up. At the very end of the game (if you played in the exact same way I did. . . Whoops) you climb back into that cop car with both of these two men. You return back to the life you were living so destructively before with an embodiment of your past, your sins, your crimes, your cruelty which led so many people to grow sick of you. After all Harry will always carry the weight of the man he was before. But you’ll also return with the embodiment of your future, your hope, your skills, your virtues.

I think part of the reason the ending of Disco Elysium is so hopeful is that who Harry was before is not abandoned entirely. He has a past to answer for, you didn’t know that before but you do by the end of the game. But hope persists regardless. Whether that’s through the voice of Revachol itself or Kim’s endless patience with the mess he was assigned to work with. You need both, Harry needs both, and I think that’s kinda lovely to be honest.

[ravers8fantasy]

🗯Von Kaiser head canons!!

Help spoilers for Marley and me😭

Sorry if there are any mistakes!! I made this when I was rlly tired and Im gonna go to sleep after I post this💫

Is 42 so Im gonna say he joined around his mid/late 20s (hell yeah he's one of the boxers who has been around the longest)

Has a military background, dad was in the army and that kinda influenced him growing up

His time managment for example is immaculate, you will never catch his ass being late

Keeps an extra pair of pre polished combat boots in his locker

the W.B.V.A tried to get him change his foot wear to something more approproate for the ring but he ended up intimidating them so they let him keep the boots

Kaiser doesnt realise how intimidating he can be sometimes, no one has pointed out how bad his resting bitch/angry face is yet (he is also like 6'0 and flippin hench so)

He can be unbearably quiet, especially if he's meeting someone new bro will NOT talk first

Kaiser might look tough, but he is sensitive af. Saw 'Marley and me' and started bawling his eyes out when Marley was put down

The children he teaches sometimes challenge him to a match of football after the boxing class is done

he just cant bring himself to say no to them and well, the class is all done so whats the harm? (he has somehow been knocked over by a kid multiple times)

Honestly such a father figure and role model to them, Kaiser would risk it all to protect those kids

Forgets to take care of himself sometimes and ends up mega burnt out

I think he would definetly have a secret massive sweet tooth, gets excited when christmas comes because it gives him an excuse to devour a pack of lebkuchen (he loves them sm)

He would be veeery interested in learning about languages and different culture's , especially after seeing all the boxers from different countries

I like to think he is a bit of a linguist because of this: he is fluent in deutsche. Dutch, English and Frisian. Knows abit of Turkish and French and wants to learn Hindi and many many other languages

Drives the most beat up car the W.B.V.A have ever seen, he says that if it still works then whats the point of getting a new one

The most stubborn mf you will ever meet, he hates change in routine and hates losing an argument

Sneezes so loudly its like an explosion has gone off

Head canoning that there is a museum near the minor circuit arena and Kaiser is a regular to the modern history exhibit (is interested in the cold war mainly about the fall of the berlin wall)

shaved his moustache off once and immediately regretted it, he cancelled all his boxing classes because he knew the kids would laugh at him

Sometimes when he gets comfortable around people his voice slowly gets louder until he is subconsciously shouting

It happened once during an interview after a match, he got so embarrased after the interviwer pointed it out he walked RAN away to the locker room's

he sleeps like a sick victorian child on their deathbed. The children he teaches caught him napping once before a class and genuinely thought he passed away

Prefers colder months to warmer months, his favourite season would be winter because he gets to go back to Berlin and see his parents for christmas.

Again!! Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or if smth doesnt make sense! I kept falling asleep whilst making this😭😭

Hope u enjoyed! Disco is next😈

[weepylucifer]

Disco Elysium if it was a Hollywood Blockbuster

(inspired by the trailer by @brainrotdotorg)

Harry has to have a glowup arc where he regains his faith in his job and ability to be a good cop. The police isn't criticized here apart from maybe some handwaves at "a few bad apples" rhetoric. In the climactic moment, the phasmid appears and tells him it is his duty and his destiny... to reform the RCM

Because we don't have time for a nuanced take on addiction in this 90-minute movie, the narrative just turns on a dime halfway through to portraying Harry's alcoholism as rugged and badass instead of pathetic, or he suddenly stops drinking when he gets his groove back, with no withdrawal effects shown. The whole thing about speed helping him be better at his job doesn't factor in; Harry drinks and does drugs because he's sad about Dora and there's nothing more to it. All he needed was to buck up and focus on being the best cop in all of Revachol

Klaasje is portrayed as a one-dimensional scheming femme fatale. Her backstory doesn't really come up. She's dumbed down so that Harry can triumph over her, and is also genuinely attracted to him for some reason, "I am Sherlocked" style

Ruby is either cut entirely, or she's genuinely a predatory lesbian and that's it. If the latter, she shoots herself in the head in front of Harry and Kim and they make a MCU-style "Well that happened" quip about it

No political quests! We don't have time for that. Actually, both communism and fascism are only mentioned once in a backstory dump as stuff that happened in a bygone era. If anything, the film ends up really riding for moralism by complete accident

The film makers don't really know what to do with Kim, so he gets reduced to a guy that stands around and delivers snarky one-liners

The Hardie Boys are in one short interrogation scene, not quite enough to make casual moviegoers care when half of them are gunned down

Fan-favorite characters such as Cindy, Cuno or the Speedfreaks can be seen once in the background of a group scene, but have no lines (you KNOW hollywood couldn't handle the Cuno). It's announced on the director's insta as "a little easter egg for eagle-eyed fans"

Joyce has a way more active role, but also her character turns into an utterly flat "milf girlboss" type who gives Harry and Kim direct instructions on what to do, Madame Director style. The movie writers pat themselves on the backs for being more progressive and feminist than the source material. Also she has nothing to do with the mercs, they just sort of... appeared. Don't think about it too hard! It's stressed repeatedly that they're "rogue agents" and it's really nobody's fault that they're there

Evrart is a corrupt mob boss and that's it. He will be played by a skinny actor in a fatsuit. He also doesn't help find Harry's gun, Joyce has someone retrieve it offscreen so she can gravely and meaningfully hand it to him just in time for the mercenary tribunal

The Deserter just kinda being a shitty sad old man would be too anticlimactic for our summer blockbuster, so he is rewritten to be some kind of evil mastermind. Maybe he even directly communicates with Klaasje and tells her what to do, again "I am Sherlocked" style

The tribunal absolutely does end with RCM backup triumphantly arriving to save the day, led by Jean who underwent a mini-arc offscreen about putting his differences with Harry aside because at the end of the day, they're both cops, and goddamn it, cops help each other. He dramatically takes the wig off and chucks it on the ground to signal his character growth, and everything

No homo-sexual underground thought. The Smoker on the Balcony is allowed to show up in one scene, where he flirtily waves at Kim and Harry. Kim nods at him. Disney's first gay character--

There's a moment where Kim talks to Jean, expressing doubt about Harry. Cut to Harry doing something goofy across the room from them. Jean briefly glances at it, shakes his head, turns back to Kim and says gruffly: "He's a loose cannon... but he gets the job done." This is supposed to be a good thing

[pokidot]

HALLOWEEN PARTY 😣 with anyone idk Mandela scara and yn dress up silly, yn outfit so low budget no one can tell who or what they’re dressed as 🤓

OMG!!!!!! 😄 THANK YOU SAUR MUCH NI

“Just stomp your feet, and clap your hands,” Venti slurred on his words, swaying back and forth to the music as he clapped his hands together on cue in his own drunken rhythm, “C’mon everybody, it’s the hamster dance! Dibidi di dibi do do…”

“Maybe I’ve gone insane and this is the last semblance of sanity.” Aether muttered, half to himself.

The ghost club's Halloween party was held in the dimly lit basement of the old building on campus, ironically enough. But the eerie charm of it was perfect considering everybody wanted a cheap thrill. Faded brick walls lining up with the ill-assorted, weathered posters from previous meetings in here of some obscure club loomed over. The lights they painted with highlighters flickering in the glow of cheap looking orange and purple fairy lights.

Every now and then, there would be a shadow that would tango across, thanks to this ancient disco ball that would creak as it spun, broken pieces of light across the space. Decorations were even funnier, because nobody had the money to get them except Kuni (and they had too much pride to ask him).

Plastic skeletons, some with missing limbs, this old Freddy Krueger mannequin from 1997, and worn rickety tables filled with party food and a punch bowl that was probably laced.

In one corner, the mini fog machine Heizou brought with him sputtered every now and then. It sent sporadic clouds that mixed with the scent of incense wafting from the air, insisted by him to "enhance spiritual ambience". But because of how dusty the area already was, it didn't really do anything to cleanse and everyone opted to coughing anyway.

The costumes were equally as awful; Venti was a very biblically accurate King Julian, complete with a makeshift crown and painted-on stripes, Xiao cut holes into a sheet and went as a ghost, Kazuha went as Little Red Riding Hood, alternatively Heizou went as the Big Bad Wolf...? Aether came as a vampire, and Hu Tao came as herself! She was scary enough.

There was low-budget charm when Kuni, who was dressed at Ghostface, came in with you...a misfit among misfits. "You guys need to do your part and drive them next time, I'm tired of them fucking with my radio."

"I wanted to play spooky music! Is that a crime?!" You put a hand on your chest in an offended manner, your costume so haphazardly thrown together that you pieced together whatever odds and end you found.

He sighed, tone laced with a weary patience that somehow managed to carry a warmth. "There's a difference between spooky music, and playing Crazy Frog on blast while I'm trying to drive through an uncontrolled intersection."

"Crazy Frog is spooky if you have a 101 degree fever and chug Nyquil," You shot back, crossing your arms in faux conviction. "You have no idea what I've been through to survive that niche."

"I'm sure." Kuni gave a resigned snort, muttering something smart under his breath as he turned his gaze to the others. "This party looks like shit, but this is exactly what I expect from you lot."

"Excuse you!" Aether gasped, he mock-scandalized as he adjusted his vampire cape, trying to salvage some dignity. "We were actually on a budget, so unless you're willing to get down on your knees and start begging for forgiveness, I'd keep your wits to yourself!"

Kuni's eyes gleamed with hints of snark. "And you thought that something that looks like a kid's birthday party where all the parents are divorced and on bad terms was the vibe you wanted to give off?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like you want to be the only single dad." Heizou grinned, but his eyes held a more teasing leer. "Too bad, that's my role here."

Kazuha's eyebrows raised. "And who are the kids? The rest of us?"

You narrowed your eyes, your lips curling into a smirk. "He won't be a single dad for long with how bad I'm seducing him with my costume right now. Look at him. Can't even stay off of me."

"Can't stay off you..?" Kuni echoed dryly, his eyes moving to your shoddy costume as he pursed his lips, trying to make out something in his head. A single brow arching behind the mask. "Who are you even supposed to be?"

"Tinker Bell, obviously!"

The entire room went quiet, the basement inhaling the collective silence at every head turned, eyes blinking in a blend of restrained words. Hu Tao's mouth dropped at your response. "...But avant-garde, right?"

"That was my last guess." Xiao said.

Your big smile dropped, and you threw your hands up, adopting a comically dramatic attitude. "Guys, I have a WAND. Who else has a wand with green clothes on?!"

"Smells a lot like Slytherin." Heizou whispered, squinting.

The green top that didn't match the skirt, the DIY wings held together by duct tape, vaguely sparkly sneakers you decided were close enough to fairy shoes. You looked accomplished standing there in your glory, "I'm pushing boundaries. Redefining what Tinker Bell is, anybody can be the Big Bell, even me!"

Venti started crying immediately, tears welling in his eyes. "Amazing!" He shouted. "A true artist in the rough! A groundbreaking interpretation! We need to ship you off to art school, you don't even need this shoddy college!" He raised an invisible bottle in his hand that was confiscated by Kazuha about 13 minutes ago.

"Finally, someone who APPRECIATES a good costume. I don't see any of you actually trying to look original, so I'm not intimidated."

"You look like Tinker Bell stranded at a yard sale." Kuni deadpanned, voice oozing with playful skepticism.

You flashed a mildly displeased scowl at the witticism, but even though you knew they were being half-hearted and didn't really care that much, YOU WERE STILL granted the name 'Budget Bell' the entire night. They refused to call you by your actual name. And since that Halloween party, it became a running joke and a strange point of ego...the legend that you were.

Safe to say, you knew the exact people you were going to sacrifice to the Lochness Monster once you find him.

[conflictofthemind]

Do you think the unreleased footage of Noah his S4 road trip outfit at RinkOMania will have anything to do with churchgate? Possibly some type of flashback during his possession?

Yesyesyesyesyes

I do think Vecna will use Will’s freeze moment at RinkOMania and how upset he was there against him, calling him selfish and convincing him he’s a horrible person. Just as Vecna tried to convince Max she was in the wrong for her incredibly complicated feelings towards Billy.

I think people have pointed out that the Snow Ball and RinkOMania both share the disco ball as a centrepiece prop shining over the scene and I agree there is some kind of symbolic connection there - which could end up being Vecna distorting memories in both of those places for Max and then Will.

I feel like Will is going to be playing a very similar role as Max did in Season 4, now that I’m really comparing both of their situations. The Max S5 storyline might actually integrate not only into El’s, but Will as well — he has the mental link to the hive mind that Max is currently stuck in. El was not able to find anything when she reached out using the void, but maybe Will can? And that’s why there’s all these connections.

Also paired with the comments that Caleb was making about exploring more of Lucas and Mike’s relationship. I think it makes sense to have the two of them collaborate to try and save Will from what’s plaguing him and at the same time be able to find more clues on Max.

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

A Cait le ha costado pero ha aprendido como intentar hacer creíble su relación con Tony aunque el sigue tan poco colaborativo como se ve en el vídeo de IFTA

No hay llegada a los premios porque la ultima vez, el papel de guardabrigo de Tony a la salida del coche de Cait quedó bien patente y ese paso atrás como buen asistente ha quedado para la historia.

No hay desfile en la Red Carpet con Tony porque la velocidad de Cait para alejarse de el saben que es carne de gifs.

Las manos de Tony debajo de la mesa porque sus últimos aplausos denotaban un cierto manierismo muy poco varonil.

Cait radiante, esperando el barrido de la cámara, mientras Tony parece ajeno a lo que sucede alrededor con una sonrisa que podríamos describir como una mueca.

En resumen, la enésima puesta en escena del circo Tait. Si aún hay alguien que compre entradas para ese espectáculo es su problema, no el nuestro.

Dear, dear Anon Rebelde,

¡Te extrañé! Bienvenida de nuevo, en uno de los momentos más bajos que parece que nos gustan con tanto masoquismo, de este lado de la valla. Pero primero, la traducción:

'It did cost Cait, but she learned how to try and make her relationship to Tony look credible, even if he still doesn't seem willing to collaborate, as the IFTA clip shows us.

There is no arrival at the awards because last year, Tony's role as coat handler when leaving Cait's car was blatantly obvious and that relegation to good assistant went on record.

There is no parade on the Red Carpet with Tony because of Cait's haste in getting away from him. They know it's gif material.

Tony's hands are under the table because last year's applause denoted a certain, very unmanly, mannerism.

Cait beams, waiting for the camera to pan, while Tony seems oblivious to what is happening around him, with a smile that could rather be described as a grimace.

In short, the umpteenth staging of the Tait circus. If there is still someone who buys tickets for that show, it is their problem, not ours.'

I overall agree, as always, with your very balanced evaluation of the current state of play. But I also think tickets for that particular show will always be a hot sale in this fandom, either because it will be just up some people's alley (Mordor - I am amazed at the stupidity of their discussing the concept and some of them never heard of Tolkien: mind boggles), or because of the collective trauma/Stockholm syndrome many of us, here, still display. What I mean by that is very simple: for eight years now, we, shippers have been hostages of that Narrative and when something happens along those lines, we will surely react, giving all its toxicity renewed space and airtime. I am not judging anybody, here, because this is only human (and to many, the trauma is palpable) and there is nothing to judge. This is, however, a well-known group behavior dynamic that never fails to deliver. What she did was simply to double down on her PDA. But the experiment failed, because even five years after that Remarkable Week-end, the man still can't be arsed to show any organic enthusiasm or even involvement in his whereabouts. Cue in the SC nostalgia pic galore on shipping blogs and I have to say I am not really a fan: it just fuels that disco inferno cycle and exposes us to the same old, vile criticism, when the core of the shipping belief system is to be found elsewhere. Again, not judging anyone, just trying to understand behavior patterns, here.

Plus, I am really sorry, but he has been looking all sorts of terrible for quite a while, now. Blaming the camera angle (cortisone bloating) or the lighting systems is as mendacious and idiotic as the people circulating it. This kind of free propaganda is also known by all the interested parties and it also never fails to deliver, for many reasons it would be useless to further analyze.

Looking forward to read your witty take on things next time, darling. Siempre un placer leerte, corazon.

[roosterbruiser]

VOULEZ-VOUS FINALE

Spans from December, 1978--December, 1992

Los Angeles, CA

She opens a bank account. Her bruise plays a big role in this chapter. 

Another house party with just the gang. Cherry and Hangman are pretty much high the whole time. Everyone does a little bit of coke besides Rooster. She reads everyone’s palms.

Jake plays the tape of him and Cherry for everyone and Rooster gets pissy about it. And he tries to say it’s because he never watches his own stuff so he doesn’t understand why Jake does. And Cherry has to be like…relax, man. I fuck everyone. 

Rooster sulks outside, smoking a cigar. And Cherry finally goes outside and sits on his lap and asks him what’s going on. He’s too afraid to admit that he’s in love with her. So he just says that he likes the way things have been and he doesn’t want things to change. She assures him they won’t. 

And like she can sense that he needs it, she fucks him that night. Stays with him. Except there’s a moment where he tries to slow her down, holding her hips, helping her rock. And she lets him for a second--it feels good. It feels really, really good. But then she’s awash with something that feels too big and she takes over again and goes fast.

Rooster tells her that he sleeps very deeply when she sleeps with him. It feels like he’s saying that he loves her. 

Los Angeles, CA May 29th, 1979

Jake’s guilty but unwilling to talk about things. They haven’t told anybody about what happened. They have a little get-together and watch some of the films Cherry has made and Rooster privately broods. She babies him--sits on his lap while he smokes a cigar. And then they have sex that night. It’s the first time they actually make love. 

How come she can be sweet with Jake and not make it sexual but she can’t do that with Rooster?

Her and Rooster are like achingly close to being a couple. She’s spending all her time with him, they seem to have found some sort of domestic bliss together. She’s getting more money and he helps her open a bank account. 

He is close to telling her that he loves her. But something that keeps happening is everytime they have an intimate moment together, she tries to get sexual with him. And he doesn’t know how to tell her now so he does it. 

It comes to a head when Hangman is over one night. Her and Rooster go to bed and he is just holding her, kissing her, about to say he loves her. And she tries to initiate sex. And he lets it get to her sitting naked on top of him before he stops her. They have a small warble because she feels rejected and he doesn’t know how to explain to her that she doesn’t always have to fuck him. 

So she gets out of bed and fucks Hangman. Then she sleeps in her own room. 

Los Angeles, CA June 9th, 1979

Things are a bit stilted between her and Rooster now. She’s back on her bullshit with Jake, doing coke all the time and partying. It’s like what happened to her meant nothing. It didn’t touch her deeply enough for anything to change, especially since her and Rooster are in such a weird spot right now. And Rooter is too worried about something happening to Cherry, so he’s been accompanying them. 

Cherry is feeling things for Rooster and it scares her. She is starting to get special treatment from people because they’ve seen her films. A few people ask for autographs.

Somewhere in here, Phoenix paints a portrait of Cherry.

One night at the disco, a woman approaches Rooster and she’s kind of all over him. But he’s just watching Cherry. And when Cherry comes back to the table, he says he’s ready to go and she says she wants to keep partying. The woman wants to fuck Rooster--Cherry can tell. She sees Rooster pushing her off and tells Rooster that he should just take her home.

They get into a spat about it and he ends up leaving with the woman and fucking her at home. But he can’t finish. He doesn’t know why. He lets her stay the night, but he doesn’t sleep in the bed. Really, he doesn’t sleep at all. He just paces. 

Los Angeles, CA June 23rd, 1979

Cherry films a scene with Bob--nurse and patient. Then after, her and Bob go to the pier and she takes a walk with him. They get to know each other a little bit and he tells her what he knows about Rooster and Jake. They get to know each other. They both grew up on farms so they talk about it. They don’t fuck again. They have a friendship that translates off-screen and on. People like watching them fuck. But they never do it outside. 

When she goes home, Rooster is making dinner. Things have been a bit odd between them. But she’s just overwhelmed. So she goes into the kitchen and just holds him from behind. And he melts in her touch. But then she starts kissing his neck and grabbing his cock and he just gives in because he knows that’s the only way he’s gonna feel her love. They fuck that night, but he tenderly kisses what remains of her bruise. She never takes the necklace off. 

Cape Cod, MA July 1st-3rd, 1979

Phoenix has a vacation home on Cape Cod, so they all go to the house. It’s huge and beautiful and they’re all happy together. Cherry rooms with Rooster and it really excited him. 

They kind of act like a couple for a little while there. She’s taking bumps with Jake but everyone’s taking bumps. 

They have a few good days of just shopping and sun tanning and swimming and fucking. Maybe they play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. Cherry ends up fucking everyone in the group during seven minutes in heaven. 

When her and Jake are swimming together one night, she notices a scar on the back of his leg that she’s never seen before. He says it’s a piece of Gentry’s skull--embedded there forever because it was too deep. They couldn’t get it out. 

For once, at the end of the night, Cherry is too tired to have sex. She asks Rooster if it’s okay if they just sleep. He says of course it is. He’s thrilled. He feels like this means something big. 

Cape Cod, MA July 4th, 1979

They drink all day. Cherry takes a few bumps with Jake. They go out boating. It’s a good time. Everyone is beautiful, everything is beautiful. 

They stay out on the water and watch the fireworks. She sits on Rooster’s lap all night. 

When they get home, everyone is tired. They all go to bed. Her and Rooster go to bed too and they make love. Like they actually make love for the first time--she lets him. And it’s so intense and she doesn’t know what to do and she’s scared. 

And he is so happy after. She can see that it pleased him so endlessly. And that terrifies her. 

He tells her that he loves her. She pretends like she’s asleep. He falls for it. 

Los Angeles, CA July 13th, 1979 

Films a swingers scene with Rooster, Phoenix, and Hangman. She’s starting to get recognized on the street now wherever she goes. People from out of town are the only ones brave enough to ask for a picture together and she never says no.

Rooster is waiting for the perfect moment to tell her that he is in love with her. He wants to get it right. He wants to leave the business and take her with him. He has enough money for the both of them to live off of handsomely forever. 

So then the four of them hang out at Phoenix’s place. Rooster sees the portrait of Cherry that she painted and says he wants to buy it. It’s the first piece of art he’s ever bought from Phoenix. 

Jake tries to outbid Rooster. They have a weirdly tense squabble over it before Cherry intervenes and outbids both of them. She buys the portrait herself. 

Later on, when her and Rooster go home, he turns on a record and asks her to dance with him. She’s confused because he never wants to dance. But then it’s a slow record and they slow dance and it feels good. She is in love with him maybe. But she’s having so much fun just fucking around, just being by herself, just doing whatever. 

And then he says he wants to tell her something. And she asks him to make her cum first. He does--twice. And then he tells her that he’s in love with her. She is terrified but she knows that she loves him too. She feels powerless against it. So she says she loves him too. 

Los Angeles, CA July 17th, 1979

Her and Rooster decide that they’re going to try monogamy. She’s scared, but she loves him. What else is there to do? The deal is that they only fuck other people for work. That’s it. Nothing outside of that. 

They announce it to their friends while they’re all on the beach together. Everyone is happy for them. Honestly, it’s a good day. Jake isn’t an asshole--he doesn’t think it’s gonna last, but he doesn’t say that. He’s still touchy with her, which is okay for now. 

That night, she takes a bath with Rooster. They tell each other about their childhoods. 

Los Angeles, CA August 11th, 1979

She films a cuckold scene with Rooster and Bob. 

Fucking other men on set isn’t helping. She wants to keep fucking other people. But she loves Rooster--she’s devoted to him. And it isn’t that he isn’t fulfilling her, it’s just that she’s a genuine nymphomaniac. 

Cute moments with her and Rooster--maybe them swimming. Maybe them shopping. You know. Cute stuff. You can do it!

Monterey, CA August 17th-August 20th, 1979

Rooster takes Cherry on a road trip. They go up the coast and stay in a little cottage on the water. It’s nice. It’s just them. He loves that it feels so domestic. She just loves him. She’s insatiable, though. She always wants it--she always wants to be fucked. 

Cherry wants to be with him but she’s afraid it won’t be enough. She’s trying so hard for it to be enough. For him. For Rooster. He tells her about his mom getting sick. 

Los Angeles, CA September 1979

Films a domination scene with Rooster.

Cherry and Rooster are in love. But she wants to be fucked all the time. 

There’s a scene where she tries to initiate sex and he doesn’t want to have sex. So she’s just frustrated. She has to touch herself and it just isn’t the same. 

She grabs a drink with Jake and they end up going back to his house. They do too much coke and end up sleeping together. They both feel terrible about it. 

She tells Rooster as soon as she gets home. And he forgives her and Jake immediately--I mean, it’s like handing a lighter to a pyromaniac. He gets it. He says that she can sleep with whoever she wants, as long as she comes home and is in bed with him every night. 

Los Angeles, CA October, 1979 

Films a Western thing with the full cast. 

She fucks someone else one night and then comes home. Her and Rooster eat dinner. They got to bed. He initiates sex and in the heat of the moment, while he’s being rough with her, he tells her that he’s fucking someone else’s cum into her. He calls her a whore. 

They stop. They’re both upset. They agree that it isn’t working. He asks her, as a last ditch effort, to quit porn and just be with him. She says no. They hold each other. In the morning, they agree to only fuck on set. 

Los Angeles, CA November, 1979

Summer camp with the full cast. When her and Rooster fuck, it’s very much them longing for each other. It’s heartbreaking, really. They kiss a lot. He still makes her cum. She misses him so much. Just a long hug after the shoot. 

She starts getting super into doing coke with Jake again. They’re hanging out all the time together. She’s still living with Rooster. But they’re achingly just friends--which is very hard for them. 

She’s kind of in a tailspin. She fucks everyone. She misses Rooster. 

Los Angeles, CA Late November, 1979

Her and Jake are hanging out, doing coke one night. They are talking and they start arguing. He says she doesn’t know the difference between sex and love. And they’re both high and they really get into it but then all of the sudden, he starts seizing. 

She rides with him in the ambulance. The paramedics recognize her and one of them asks for her autograph. Rooster meets her at the hospital. He and Cherry comfort each other. She’s very distraught. Jake is okay--they get to go in and see him after a few hours. They stay in the hospital with him for a while. 

When Rooster goes home to get him and Cherry some clothes, Jake tells her that he has something that he only wants to tell Cherry and she can’t tell anyone. She agrees. It’s very soft. She’s stroking his hair, they’re both crying. He said he met God and he licked his wounds. It was Gentry.

Los Angeles, CA December, 1979 

Cherry is still reeling from seeing Jake overdose. She asks Dennis if she can push the shoot back. He says no. Rooster and him get into it. 

Cherry shows up on set and Rooster and Dennis are arguing. Rooster tells Cherry that this is his last scene--ever. He’s leaving the business after this. This means several things: Cherry knows everyone will start to leave after him, they won’t fuck anymore, and she will miss him severely. 

It’s a make-me-a-star scene. Very sad.

Dennis insults Rooster and Cherry decks Dennis in the face. She busts his lip open good and wide.

Los Angeles, CA Late December, 1979

It’s just her and Rooster over Christmas. It’s her first one away from her folks. She signs another contract with Goldman Homevideos. Dennis forgives her--so he can keep making money from her.

The prologue ties in here. It is Dennis. He drugged her. 

She goes into Rooster’s room. He throws Dennis out. He cleans her up. It’s all very tender. She says she wishes that she could be what he wants her to be. He says that isn’t the issue here--the issue is that she can’t give herself to him fully. They hold each other. She still has the gold chain. She says that she thinks they’re soulmates. He says he’s always known it.

Los Angeles, CA November, 1980

It’s Cherry’s 23rd birthday. She celebrates with the whole crew. It’s a good party. 

Afterwards, Rooster gives her another gift. It’s when they’re alone together. He gives her two thick, fat gold rings. One has a C engraved on it and the other has an A engraved on it. He says that the next time Dennis acts up, she can scar him up real good. So that everyone knows he fucked with Cherry Arsan. 

Rooster finished Emmanuelle. He reads some out loud to her as they nurse their final cocktails of the night. They just go to sleep there on the couch together. They don’t have sex. 

Cape Cod, MA July, 1981 

They’re all at Phoenix’s house for the 4th again. Rooster, Payback, and Phoenix aren’t in the industry anymore. That leaves Cherry, Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy. 

They swim and eat and all just love each other. It’s a good time. Cherry and Hangman aren’t officially a couple, but they may as well be. Cherry lives with him now and they’re fuck buddies, even though they fuck other people. 

But monogamy isn’t a thing. So she sleeps in Rooster’s bed because she misses him. And he misses her, too. They end up having sex and afterwards, Rooster is upset. He wants her. So he tells her that they can’t have sex again. It makes him miserable. 

Los Angeles, CA April, 1982

Phoenix is getting married. Everyone attends the wedding. They dance--except Rooster, who just watches. But when a slow song comes on, her and Rooster dance together. They dance to the song Something On Your Mind by Karen Dalton. 

He asks her if she ever wants to get married. They talk about it. She doesn’t know what she wants. She says that if she ever does get married, she hopes it’s him. But she doesn’t feel ready. He says he’ll wait for her. 

Only Hangman and Cherry are in the industry still.  

Los Angeles, CA December, 1983

It’s Christmas. It’s just Rooster and Cherry. 

Hangman is starting to spend Christmas with Gentry’s family. 

They’ve been doing this for a few years now. They reminisce all the years they’ve known each other and the way things have changed. She gets him very expensive cigars and a new gold chain since she still wears his. It’s very nice. He gets her a pair of shoes--nice, leather Mary Janes. And a pair of bell-bottoms. 

They don’t have sex, but she sleeps in his bed. He says it’s the only time he sleeps through the night. She kisses his forehead. 

Los Angeles, CA

June, 1984

It’s Rooster’s birthday now. They all celebrate with a big party at Rooster’s house. It takes place after, as she’s helping clean the place. Hangman quit the business. Cherry is getting her own place. 

On the off-hand, Cherry asks Rooster to grab her purse. He sees that there’s a gun in it. She says the world isn’t what it used to be. He begs her to leave and just be with him. Just love him. Isn’t he enough? It’s sad. 

This is when she also breaks the news to Rooster. Her and Hangman, during a coked up excursion in Las Vegas, got married. And when they came down, they decided they were gonna give things a go. Maybe not entirely monogamous, but devoted to each other. Rooster asks her if she regrets it. She says she doesn’t know yet, but she likes how warm he is in bed. Rooster is heartbroken, but also wise. He knows what they have isn’t going to last. They love each other the way an addict loves their next fix. There’s no longevity. What he and her have? That’s forever. He knows. He knows it. 

Los Angeles, CA October, 1985

Cherry is on the cover of Playboy in September. Her mother sends her a letter. She lets Rooster read it. It’s very, very sad. She’s upset about it. 

Rooster asks if she wants to go dancing to cheer her up. Bell Bottoms closed. So they just go for a swim. He skinny dips, just to cheer her up. She does, too. They almost have sex. Almost. But they stop in time. 

Her and Jake aren’t doing very well in their marriage. Their relationship is tumultuous and immature. They fight over everything…their next fix, their marriage, their cars, their jobs. They’ve lost their friendship.  

Los Angeles, CA January 1987

Cherry’s parents both die in a car accident. She finds out that they were in an immense amount of debt when they died, but they never asked her for help. She thinks that is sad and funny. Cherry would’ve given them money if she knew, but she didn’t. Her, Hangman, and Rooster go home to help with the house. She sees old people she’s fucked. Everyone ogles at her because they recognize her. The women give her hateful looks.

Her brother is terrible to her. Her parents left her nothing in their will--just what was in her childhood bedroom. She sees it--the way she left it when she was 21. Nothing is touched. They basically just boarded it up. 

It’s melancholy. 

Her, Rooster, and Hangman all squeeze into her childhood bed and sleep there together. It’s the worst sleep of her life. Between her husband and her soulmate. 

Los Angeles, CA February 1988

Rooster introduces Cherry to his fiance. Her name is Samantha. She’s an accountant. Samantha is older. Like maybe close to forty. She’s beautiful. They all have dinner together. Samantha very obviously doesn’t like Cherry, but she’s very cordial towards her. Cherry is becoming very insecure as she ages. She liked being the pretty young thing on the scene, liked that everyone was always calling her a baby. But she’s not so super young anymore. 

Jake, Cherry, and Bradley all go to dinner together to meet Samantha. Samantha and Bradley haven’t been together for very long. Cherry just got back from Italy and she’s talking a lot about herself. But she’s also coming to terms with the fact that she has an expiration date and it’s approaching. She’s struggling. Maybe she even talks about getting plastic surgery (which Samantha is super against). 

She kind of fishes for compliments, very vain, always checking her makeup. Samantha is a very forward-thinking woman who can hold her own. But she has very rigid standards of what she considers feminist and what she doesn’t. 

Samantha doesn’t like Cherry. Cherry is kind of being a bit off-putting and being touchy with Rooster and Jake. 

They get into a discussion about porn.

Samantha says Rooster regrets doing porn. And Cherry is asking him but he’s on the spot. He talks about how it was predatory and how Dennis used them, but her whole perspective is like sure, maybe it was predatory, but look at the fucking house we’re sitting in. Look at the fucking gold chain you’re wearing. Look at the fucking steak we’re eating right now, with the perfect marble. And Jake and Rooster say that Cherry got the worst of it and she’s like yeah, I did. But what do I have to complain about when I’m sitting here in a Chanel dress, wearing a string of saltwater pearls? 

So then Samantha brings up how when her and Rooster have kids, and if they have sons, they don’t want them to watch porn. Porn has such a negative effect on youth and it makes men violent. Cherry takes that as a personal offense. She says she doesn’t make men violent by having violent sex on camera--she has to have violent sex on camera because that’s what men want. 

Her and Hangman hang around after dinner, when Samantha goes home. Her and Rooster don’t live together yet. They all talk about the years that have passed and how times have changed.

They talk about children. What they all want in life. And Cherry and Hangman tell Rooster that they’re getting a divorce--a very amicable one. As soon as they decided to divorce, they became friends again. They tell Rooster, while laughing, about the last fight that they had. Cherry called Jake a cokehead loser who couldn’t get over his dead gay boyfriend. Jake called Cherry an orphaned sell-out with too-big tits. Rooster doesn’t think any of this is funny. 

Los Angeles, CA November-December, 1988

Cherry has an ectopic pregnancy. She has one egg drop and it ends up detaching in the wrong spot. She was a whole conversation with Rooster about it. Rooster comes to her in the hospital and won’t leave until she finishes eating. She’s very obviously struggling, even if she’s trying to still be fun and flirty and sexy. He asks whose it was. She says maybe Jake’s, but it’s anyone’s guess. 

He leaves but waits outside the door. He hears Cherry sobbing. When he walks back in, she’s curled into herself and facing away from him. He just crawls into bed behind her and holds her tight. 

The next month, Rooster invites Cherry over for dinner. Samantha is there. Samantha and Rooster are looking into fertility treatment because they want to start a family. And Cherry tries to talk to Samantha about it, but Samantha implies that her issues are different from Cherry’s and that she’s always known she was gonna have a hard time conceiving. 

So first of all, Cherry asks Rooster if he wants kids. And he says that maybe he does. And she says you’ve never told me that. And Samantha is like why would he? And Cherry says that they were together. And Samantha has hit the ceiling at this point. So she’s like yeah, he told me about it. You couldn’t stop fucking other men. 

Rooster stands up for Cherry. And Cherry and Rooster have an argument. Cherry is trying to be everybody’s baby and Rooster is upset by all this. She’s smoking a cigarette in his house and he tells her to take it outside. And she’s surprised bc he always bends the rules for her. And she won’t let Samantha take that. 

But then he says that they’re engaged. She isn’t the woman in his life. 

She leaves before she starts crying. 

Los Angeles, CA July 1989

It’s the night before the wedding. Cherry quit the industry a few months ago. Everyone’s at the hotel. It’s late. She’s sitting at the hotel bar by herself, nursing a glass of wine. Rooster ends up coming down. They talk all night. It’s a lot of reflection--all her time in the industry, what she learned about love and sex. What she learned about men and herself. And he just loves her so much. 

Cherry does not intend to ruin the wedding. She just tells Rooster that she wishes their timing had been better. She wishes she had been ready. She wishes she was his age. He tells her it’s too late for that now. That he is a good man with good intentions and there is a woman upstairs who he said he would marry. Cherry, very sadly and sweetly, says she knows he is a man of his word. She tells him that he is going to make a perfect husband and a perfect father. She squeezes his hand. 

She goes upstairs to her hotel room and feels immense grief, but relief as well. The back and forth is finally ending. There is no more will-they-won’t-they with them. He’s moving on. She is heartbroken, but genuinely very happy for him. 

There’s a knock on the door. It’s Rooster and he’s holding his suitcase. He tells her that she’s always had horrible timing. She says she’s been late to everything in her life. He leaves with Cherry.

Sonoma, CA December 1992

Cherry is 35 and Rooster is 45. They own a vineyard in Sonoma. They’re preparing things for Christmas with everyone. They make love before the fireplace. They’re lovingly getting their home ready for all their friends. They’ve got a couple dogs and some horses. Life is good--sweet. 

A few of them have kids, most everyone is married. Cherry and Rooster got married a few months after the wedding was called off. They’re happy. They’re really, really happy. They look through photo albums while they’re getting things out. All the photos Rooster took of her over the years--some of them are devastatingly sexy. But others are sexy in a quieter way--like a picture he took without her knowing, one where she’s sitting at the end of her bed and rolling lace stockings up her legs. Another where she’s sucking her finger in the reflection of the mirror to get the lipstick off her teeth. And some of the pictures aren’t sexy at all--they’re just beautiful. Cherry on their honeymoon in Maine, bundled up in a sweater with a scarf in her hair waving in the wind. Cherry behind the wheel of Rooster’s cherry-red car, grinning sweetly with her big sunglasses on. Cherry first-thing in the morning, hair messy and toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. It’s the way he’s always seen her, which is not the way most men of the world see her: as a person. As herself. As something to be loved and not just fucked.

Fin.                           

[earlofbats]

Okay so because this post about Harry being a bottom I'm going to give a genuine dissertation on the thematic relevance of sub Harry and maybe a little bit about dom Kim.

First I wanna establish the "Harry is definitely a subby little bottom boy" and is also definitely Bi and probably has some sorta fucking complex about it.

Evidence A. Contact Mike, Guillaume Le Million, Measurehead (when fascist).

Harry tends to idolize and gravitate towards extremely masculine figures.

This is probably due to a reflexive need to feel masculine and have masculine role models in the face of elements of identity that are seen as unmasculine by society and have become exacerbated by the breakup which had to be pretty emasculating for Harry.

Also :

Imma start a Harry's Kink counter here +1 light bondage.

+1 auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Uhm +1 uhh,Spanking? Additional +1 for being what I think is most possibly the horniest thought you have in the game also:

+1 Kim is a Dom.

I think Harry has kept his attraction to men or his desires about men fairly low key for his entire life. The way he conceptualizes Homosexuality in general as an "underground" society filled with whispering rooms and forbidden secrets is likely more of a reflection of how Harry views his own sexuality than how Queer culture is manifest in Revachol. (In reference to the way both Kim and The Smoker kinda laugh Harry about it)

The organizational element of the idea being likely reflective of the way internalization is akin to paranoia.

Harry is also extremely intimacy starved and I think part of that is due to an unmet need for affection and the desire to be taken care of. That masculinity and status as both a survivor and an oppressor was sorta thrust onto Harry, he was born the last year of the war on a hospital floor, given a name associated with war time and survival, grew up probably in a little street urchin gang, got into *Disco* (man I'm sure Harry brushed elbows with the underground then.) Was a gym teacher a good balance between masculinity and caretaker and guardian something that harry clearly excels at and enjoys. Then Dora encouraged him to be a cop for unknown reasons perhaps prestige, money, because Harry has a bleeding heart.

Engage Heterosexual Cop hell for 12 years then an additional 6 single Cop hell years.

And now you're like :

Another element is Harry's tendency to worship and diefy his partners which like man that's gotta be the subbiest fucking thing you can do. I honestly can't articulate all of the reasons why that's just extreme bottom behavior.

Harry is an empathic jelly creature who is forced to handle a job with dead people in it all day and has created this reflexive hyper masculine obsession to compensate for his perceived inadequacy in not living up to the patriarchal capitalist ideal of what's supposed to be his birthright as a well off, able bodied, 'straight', occidental, man.

Except the actual issue is that Harry is mostly perceived or perceiving himself as that, when in reality he's in clear conflict with his actual identity as a Poor, mentally Ill, bisexual, occidental, man.

And it's those last two that end up kind of making this smoke screen to Harrys deficiency in privilege. He can mask or hide behind being an Occidental Man.

Can buddy buddy with patriarchy and take up the idea of a Big Strong Manly Cop.

Something that Kim also seems to be doing by seeking out positions of authority he can compensate for the disrespect he gets as a Poor, blind, gay, seolite, man.

Last of which probably won't get him far because of how "juvenile" his body type is.

Kim can't really coast on patriarchy much the way Harry can. He has to work twice as hard cuz there's not a lot he can hide behind.

Pursuit for control in the face of denial

Vs

Shielding ones self behind control as a means of denial.

Dom/Sub dichotomy.

[dullgecko]

Okay so this might be a little too niche, but having just seen "museum" as a prompt, it got me thinking about the bad kids if they worked at a museum. (This totally isn't based on my uni degree - shhh)

Gorgug would be doing conservation in the labs, probably specialising in metals (he's an artificer, he's obviously doing metals). I can also see him enjoying larger stone objects, and he would tolerate ceramics if he absolutely had to. Don't ask him to do textiles - he'll give advice about treating the metal fastenings but that's it. Conservators pretty much always get forgotten from thank you lists, but once the bad kids get involved, conservation gets a little spotlight on the museum social media courtesy of Fig. Gorgug definitely isn't the stereotypical conservator (most are middle-aged elven women) so Gorgug can sometimes feel a little out of place, but works with Riz and Kristen to address the problems in the sector and do some outreach to get more people into conservation.

Riz would be doing research for the objects and writing up the object interpretation labels. His favourite exhibition he was involved in was a community-curated exhibition about goblin culture. He was also a big advocate for the outreach programme that supports lower-income families/individuals. He loves his job, but there are definitely a lot of problems and he's constantly having to advocate for repatriation of objects, because no, that was clearly stolen, and that community is asking for it back, and you can't just say you want to keep it because you think it looks nice in that display. He constantly has to remind people that providing reasonable adjustments is a legal requirement (and really asking for an adjustable height desk and a wrist support is quite honestly the bare minimum for what Riz actually needs for his chronic pain). And don't even get him started on the diversity of the top end of the organisation - you can't say you're diverse if elves are in all of the management roles. It does slowly get better, but gods is it slow progress.

Adaine would probably also be doing research, maybe in the science labs doing analysis (she has the identify spell and legend lore - it's perfect for analysis!). She's pretty high up so sometimes gets asked to lead private tours of the labs - she hates it, but she does get more confident the longer she's there. She works with Ayda and she loves it.

Kristen would probably be part of the education team. Teachers are always a little amazed when she can make even the most disruptive kids settle down enough to pay attention. Kristen doesn't think she's doing anything exceptional by listening to the kids and engaging with them and letting them move around if they want to, but apparently a lot of teachers hadn't considered that maybe their students just had unsupported disabilities and that if you accommodate them then they actually do care. For the students that really don't care, Kristen meets them where they're at and either relates the topic to something they do care about, or gives them a "secret task" to do instead that keeps them engaged.

Fig works mainly on the marketing team, and helps organise events like museum sleepovers and silent discos. She also runs all of the social media and somehow manages to keep up with various trends without making them terrible (a true marketing skill). The older museum staff were very reluctant to have her join, but the events brought in a large increase in engagement and they couldn't argue with the numbers. (It helps that Fig and the Sig Figs perform once a year as a fundraiser for the museum and always raise a lot of money).

I don't think Fabian would work there necessarily, but I can see him coming in to volunteer sometimes when he's not off doing pirate stuff. He'd never admit it, because he's not a nerd (he's not!), but he really loves hearing his friends talk about all of the cool things they're working on and he happily talks to them about possible interpretations of objects. He gets brought in to help out with an exhibition about pirates or something along those lines. I think he also probably has a large regular donation set up that he'll never admit is him. (Everyone definitely knows that it's him).

Gorgug likes doing all the quiet back-end work because people rarely bother him and he can sit with his music playing without getting interupted.

Riz got sick of having to climb on the furniture in his office once and threw it all out into the hallway (it involved a lot of dragging, disassembling and swearing) because it was all human sized. He didn't want to steal any furniture from his gnomish or halfling colleagues, half of them were ALSO having to use human sized desks, but he definitly got his point across by setting all his stuff up on the floor to work instead. He also advocated for at LEAST having steps and platforms short-folk could use to see the exibits, half of the more fancy display cases were above his head height.

If Adaine is asked to give a private tour to someone she knows is particularly snooty (or even a little racist, most high elves are after all) she'll kidnap Riz. The goblin will do the whole tour from on her shoulders (he memorised it after watching her do it once and can rattle it off word for word due to his stupid good memory recall) and she enjoys how the tour group ends up looking a little uncomfortable. Its especially funny because his Elven is perfect, he doesnt even have an accent, they dont expect it.

Kristen does the same sometimes but only because kids think it's hilarious, if she holds her arm out Riz can dangle from his knees and talk to the kids upside down without skipping a beat. Its good because sometimes kids have questions that come WAY out of left field about the goblin exibits and he can answer them in ways that they understand.

Fig also does all the fun posters and flyers for the museaum, she's a pretty good artist even outside of her music and she designed all her own album covers and merch. If she's not wearing a SigFig shirt she's wearing one of their promotional museam shirts from years ago.

Fabian does the reverse-pirating when no-one is looking. If he finds a museam that has stolen artifacts that a culture wants back they somehow find their way into Riz's hands. Riz is very good at sneaking things back to people without getting caught.

[blueberryarchive]

Off The Races

In which you, the sweetheart of America and famous actress, gets tired of the director's bullshit and Taehyung, your two times winner Nascar boyfriend, it's called to "calm you down".

♡Pairing: Racer!Taehyung & Actress!Reader

♡Genre: 1950's Hollywood au, fwb

♡Word Count: 2.3k

♡Warnings: Mention of drugs and alcohol, drunk driving, sexism, penetration, oral, very dramatic lol

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

California, 1952

The makeup seemed to melt into your skin as the scorching California sun beat down on your face, blonde hair in voluminous waves tickling your shoulders. You didn't want to admit it, but the gold of the wig made your tan glow like a goddess.

A goddess on the brink of madness. The kind to let thunder fall on all the men who praised you with their words and profaned you with their eyes.

The lights that were put in front of you when singing action, the childish phrases that your new director wanted you to say in a tone of pure innocence. They made you tremble with disgust, but your agent had fought so much to get you this role and you, with so much time in this business, still didn't know how to say no to a good role that would catapult you back to heaven.

You loved the cameras, the attention, and the screams of the young women and girls seeking your divine attention in public. Be the cliché rag-to-riches icon. Icon of hope for America. America's little sweetheart.

Even when you seemed to be failing, you could hear people gasp in the streets at the sight of your emerald dress full of beads and stones, the tulle piled up inside your little car. A thin veil of whitish powder delicately covered your nostrils, the red lipstick smeared on your dress, and the long scarf that floated out of your Disco Volante, the cute car that Taehyung gave you a couple of months ago. The car looked like a red bullet flying through the streets, the palms shading your clown-like theatre makeup.

Your right hand, covered in lace, moved as abruptly against the steering wheel as if you were driving alone through the streets, dodging the other cars by almost brushing their rear bumpers.

From your left hand, dangled a cigarette that was finishing with the seconds and the harsh wind. You didn't know when you'd light it on, maybe between the time you ran out screaming that you wouldn't do a tenth take of the same fucking scene and when your car seemed to roar just under your stiletto heels.

No one chased you, not even your agent, he knew it would be worse if they treated you like a child to convince you to be submissive. Much less that son of a bitch of a director that thought he could get into your panties for knowing how to look behind his glasses and yell 'Cut!' over and over again.

On the other hand, Taehyung was finishing his cigarette leaning against his red Hudson Hornet, one of his most precious jewels after you.

The workshop was alive with the noise of men talking and laughing, machines, and the roar of engines being tested. His car was being checked for the race on Sunday, and he looked into the engine himself whenever he could, even when he had a crew of mechanics.

His favorite part was wiping the towel over the car to give it the finishing touch, his last name on the side next to a 7 painted in white. It was beautiful. He felt his chest swell with pride every time he did it. 

The Korean boy who played with cars made from milk cartons and soda caps. Now a two-time Nascar championship winner.

He dropped his cigarette butt to the ground as Little James, one of his mechanics, called several times from the small office at the end of the workshop. The telephone was in Little James' hand with a face of surprise and terror. The corner of Taehyung's lip lifted because he knew who could cause that expression with just a look and a simple action.

He walked slowly, keeping the cigarette box in the sleeve of his white shirt. Grabbing the phone, he asked Little James to leave him alone with a single raised hand.

"Now what?"

"She did it again, Kim. I don't know what I'm going to do with her."

"You should throw her off a bridge and tell her that'll make her more famous" Taehyung chuckled wiping his oily hands on the fabric of his shirt. Taehyung could almost hear your agent squinting his eyes under his bottle-bottom glasses.

One of these days you would kill him from a heart attack, Taehyung thought that was your purpose.

"I don't know where she's gone but we need to finish at least three scenes today and-" the man stammered. "Kim, she's wearing a dress that costs twice my salary. She needs to stop acting like a child, you should control her."

"Mmm," Taehyung snorted. "You've been with her for years, dear Carl. You've been handling her since she turned sixteen and still don't know how to tell her to calm down? To fucking stop her nagging?"

"No" he complained, not understanding the sarcasm in Taehyung's voice. "Since she turned twenty I don't know what to do with her"

Taehyung rolled his eyes "You can calm down, Carl" he assured with a serene voice.

"Are you going to look for her?"

"Yeah, cancel the whole week too, and tell that fucking director of yours not to try to change the actress because he's going to regret it"

"Do you know who you're talking about? Mr. Truman doesn't take shit from anyone, not even her"

"If they take her out of the movie, you won't find anyone like her"

"Kim..." Carl sighed in disappointment, he more than anyone knew it was the truth.

"Goodbye, Carl" Taehyung put the phone down, searching for his motorcycle keys.

You were on one of the highest hills, revealing a city of papers and moving images. 

The air around you was sweet and heavy; the palms were unfazed by the desperate heat. You gripped the wheel tightly looking up the rocky steep, of course you thought about it. You're also not trying to lie to yourself when you hear the sound in your head of how your body falls sharply, hitting each sharp stone. 

You took a deep breath and looked inside your car, white leather decorated to the smallest detail. A shuddering hand grabbed the bag on the passenger seat, a bottle so small it looked like a toy; with your fingernail covered in red varnish, you picked up the white dust. 

"What do you think you're doing?" your body tensed upon hearing the unfathomable voice of your boyfriend. Or so the magazines said, not that it bothered you that it was called that. 

His motorcycle was behind the car, high waisted jeans and sculpted white tee. A feast to the eyes. He came to you with slow steps, lighting a cigarette on his oily hands while he analyzed the scene in front of him: the biggest dress he has seen and your dilated pupils.

You cocked your head at Taehyung, his eyes unreadable. Your heart pounded when you saw him, eyes narrowed by the scorching sunlight, his eyebrows almost knit together with the lit wrinkled cigarette on his lips. 

They had already been five months since the first time you two met and the ineffable splendor that exuded from Taehyung was such, that every time you saw him, you felt like a schoolgirl. A girl having her first infatuation upon knowing what a man was; not the kind who pulled your hair to get your attention but one of those men who fix things and says the right thing all the time. 

Taehyung didn't talk much, he kept his voice like a rivulet, firm but gentle. You loved that about him, you loved when he would say the strangest things to you and then adorn it with "my love." 

For example: "Don't you think if you're going to go up a hill at noon, at least have something lighter, my love?" You didn't know if he was talking about the dress or the cocaine that was spreading away from your fingernail. 

"For the moment, it suits me perfectly, honey" You got out of the car removing your sunglasses to see him without the dark tint. His smell of smoke and perfume eternalized your nerves. 

"What are you doing here?" you said, pleased with the view.

"Your agent is worried about you" 

"Let him worry, he doesn't know what awaits him on this shoot" 

"I thought you wanted this role" his hands slid to the tight part of your waist, the smoke of both of your cigars blinding you.

"It's not the role I want, Taehyung dear" You looked at him with half-closed eyes, drunk with obsession. 

"Mmhm," was all he said, letting smoke out of his nose. You didn't realize when but you exhaled when you felt how the dress no longer tightened your waist; the open zipper on your back. 

"And what does my doll want?" he asked, throwing the cigar from your mouth away, spitting his.

"My face...everywhere" you smiled just thinking about it. Taehyung gently squeezed your breast, studying your face. 

"I want women to cut their hair to look like me and for men to masturbate in their bathrooms just by watching me on TV" a moan escaped your lips as you felt Taehyung's tongue cool your neck.

"What else?" said he leaving wet kisses all over your chest.

"I want-" your mind was overflowing with flashing pictures, "I want to enter rooms with a simple dress, and people to still make a fuzz about it, for them to think it's easy." You sighed, hearing the fabric break under his hands.

"What's easy?" He stopped the trail of kisses to see your face, close enough to smell the alcohol on your tongue.

"To be me." You smiled, him too. He grasped your untouched finger, still covered with the angel dust, took your wrist, and began to brush his gums with your index, the fine powder disappearing with his saliva. You never looked away.

He took your face in his grubby hands, cupped your cheeks, and drank you in like it was the first time, the last too. With a kiss, he pressed you against the side of the car. Putting his hands beneath your knees, he lifted you to take you to the hood. 

Number two of the things you discovered about him, it's the way he could make you melt. His hands opened your knees and broke the last pieces of the detailed skirt, glitter and stones flew in the air. 

The only thing you could do was let him do his part, you loved watching him perform. He crawled on top of you, the metallic noise of the hood sinking because of the weight. He ripped your white panties letting your pussy feel the cool air. "Oh, honey." You purred with a cocaine-induced smile, the alcohol making your whole core blush. "The way you move, makes me feel like one of your precious cars" 

He laughed while going down on you, his tongue found the throbbing nub beneath all the fabric and stones sticking to your sweaty skin. You yelped.

"I love the way you taste." He whined nibbling the skin of your inner thigh, he was going insane and you loved it. His tongue made its way to your core moving his head like a wild animal, growling while he ate you out. 

You couldn't give two fucks about who saw you or heard you, though, it was difficult people were going to when you were in the middle of nowhere. What a shame, really. You would've loved letting people see the stoic Kim Tae Hyung going down on you. His head lifted looking for air and looked at you with hooded eyes.

"Take my belt off, pretty thing." He demanded in a low voice, swallowing your taste. You obeyed with a rush. 

He took your hand and spit on it, with the raise of his brows you understood. You started wetting his shaft with his spit. His eyebrows furrow, tilting his head letting the sweat on his neck glist in the harsh light. "Fuck" he whispered and you felt so proud of your hard work.

After a few pumps, he couldn't control himself. His body fell on top of yours, softly putting your hands behind your head. His cock find your entrance and you both twitched at the feeling, he moved as slowly as he could. Breathy groans came out of his throat. 

"What about me, darling?" He started saying brushing his lips in your ear. "I'm not a billboard or a little shiny statue. Can you still take my adoration as something precious?" His heart was at the edge of a cliff, the tears too.

Your body trembled and laughed nervously. You've heard so many adorations from men, took them all like thrown roses.

This one felt like a dagger, a begging instead of a prayer.

"Don't be silly, Kim." Was everything you could say.

"When have I been a fool with you?" He interrupted, sinking the blade a little more when he stopped smiling. Gripping your hands harder under his. 

You denied. The in-and-out had you seeing stars around him. "Never" you exhaled.

"Let me take you on a date, please, honey" he whined leaving sweet pecks in your face and neck. "Let me treat you right"

You breathe so hard you shake, and with a roll of his skilled hips, you rolled your eyes, biting your lips. This man took his job so seriously, even when he was begging. 

"I never liked jesters anyways" you finally said, he smiles and pushed his body up without stopping his hips, taking the sweaty top off. 

His thumbs caressed your tummy and grip your sides so hard you squinted, he went as hard as possible. The car creaked under the movements. 

Taehyung's wet hair dripped salty drops. The sun made a halo around his body behind him and you could swear you were in heaven.

You hummed when you came, almost singing away your orgasm. It came so soft and smooth, the high was lovely. 

The boy on top of you groaned and smiled brightly, laughing so beautifully when his cum started coming out in hot shots. "God" he laughed even more throwing his head back. "You're insane" he denied seeing the mess of green diamonds, dripping mascara in your face, your sweaty wig letting your hair peek through the cap. "I love it" he whispered kissing your hand with adornment.

"I love it too" you sighed.

a/n: Thanks to @peachypinkygloss for giving me the courage to actually write, lots of love. This two characters have been in my mind and my journal for quiet some time and it's time i give it a try.

You can write to me on private if you have some critics or want to help me on my grammar.

[aquarianshift]

my personal opinion. me PERSONALLY. i agree with peter as jesus (peace, david, i know. stephen stills is john the baptist. the one who is more powerful than i is coming after me...) but i think the other three are better suited to other roles.

davy for example. king herod's song is a jangly vaudeville dance hall number (with a sinister undertone) and it's the only one like that in a show full of soft contemplative tunes and 60s rock and roll songs. you know, like daddy's song. i feel it's almost uniquely made for him and he for it. a cane and beautiful backup dancers and he's ready to go. he could bring a fresh "despotic boy-king" take to josh mostel's excellent disco nero.

micky. he has the range to do king herod but the role of judas was just written for him. he's manic. when we meet him he's delivering one of the show's most shattering vocal performances while going mad in the desert. he's a rock and roll vocalist, with runs and screeches and scatting. he's wild and heavy hitting, and when he finally succumbs to the horror of what he's done, you can hear every thread snap one by one. that matches micky's expressive, explosive style to me. he's the voice of the musical, the one we find ourselves rooting for despite knowing how it ends.

that leaves mike. for all the reasons micky would make an award-winning judas, i think mike wouldn't. as much as the next person, i love to see him as the brooding serpent whose impossible love for peterjesus spells his downfall, but maybe not here. maybe he lines up better with the closely guarded biblical judas, who moves in relative quiet and obscurity, but JCS judas is a loud, bombastic frontman. mary magdalene, on the other hand, is soft, she's water, with a clear mellifluous folk voice. she doesn't know how to love him. were you ever a strong and silent girl before? magdalene was. and she wept for jesus in front of everybody.

rafelson is pontius pilate.

[rabarbarzcukrem]

So... I've finally watched the first Utena musical

The whole cast singing the lines of the prince in masks without him appearing himself...do you get it... he's an idea...he doesn't exist... He's just a concept from a fairytale repeated by everyone...

Utena's deep voice <333

"What's so special about this letter?" said to Wakaba...

Saionji is so dramatic I love it

I don't like the fact that Utena's uniform clearly has a different shape to the shape of the ones worn by guys. It was like that in the anime too, but in real life it looks weird, like it's too small for the actress. Otherwise the costumes are amazing tho

Zettai unmei mokushiroku was used so well... Compared to the first few songs it's very sudden and intense, very fitting for the first scene in which Utena enters the dueling arena

The way everyone moves is so in character, Anthy picking up her dress when she walks (like a princess), Touga constantly with hands in his pockets (laid-back and indifferent), Juri with arms crossed (shielding herself), Utena's strong butch energy

I love how they did the sword of Dios thing

Wtf is this disco song??? It's so random and out of nowhere...Wait. Is it this musical's equivalent of the anime intro?? That's so smart...

The song slaps actually

OF COURSE the EGG SPEECH is a SONG

Anthy's voice is so pretty I'm gonna cry

Utena immediately calling Anthy her friend, even though she doesn't know her...she is so full of love to give and so starved for close human connection.... (how very middle school of her too). I can't look at this scene without thinking about what's to come.. "you showed me a taste of true friendship"...

"Are you (anthy and touga) close?" Oooh boy

Nanami is perfect...Her song with Miki on the keys lmao. Wakaba constantly in the background... foreshadowing??

There are like. 5 different scenes happening at once

Utena and Wakaba's friendship contrasted with Touga and Saionji's broken one...damn...

"I measure the time I spend hating the student council" LMAOOO

Anthy's creepy laugh... Actually this is a good visual way to show how weird she appears to the other characters and make sure the audience associates this uneasy feeling with her

Juri standing on the chair lol. The humor in this version makes it so clear that those are highschool students

And I adore the meta jokes about weird shit going on in the background during the council meetings and no one really knowing what the stop watch does

I noticed that Juri touches her hair whenever she's vulnerable. Nice detail

Juri angst...ouch...

Why is the sword of Dios so big tho

"The sword Juri sent flying through the air came down to shatter her own rose...was the floor of the arena the only thing it pierced?" OW OW OW

THIS SCENE BROKE ME

Saionji calling Touga "motherfucker" I'm dead

Different girls playing Utena in the coffin, covering their faces with the doll...

AND THEN DUELISTS JOINING TO SING UTENA'S LINES THAT SHE WILL NEVER LEAVE THE COFFIN. WITH ANTHY AT THE END. GENIUS

The cooking song is so cute and catchy

UTENA SPITTING AT SAIONJI I'M LOVING THIS

Saionji joining the shadow girls...this is hilarious

I love the desperate song of Wakaba inspiring Utena to take back who she was. And her being the only one to say that the girl's outfit doesn't suit Utena... But as soon as her role of inspiring the main character is fulfilled, the curtain falls and only Utena is left on stage.

...Surely....

The ending was amazing..

All in all I'm convinced that a stage play of Utena is the best type of adaptation that could ever be made. The anime already had allusions to theatre and stages so it works perfectly.