#i think it’s mostly the performance but that kind of admiration tends to bleed over u know

[adriancatrin]

i think zhao is the best thing in natla. like there’s a lot of stuff in there that i really like but a lot of it is tied up with complicated feelings or worry about the future of the show. but zhao? he’s just rock solid from start to finish. what an amazing adaptation of his character, with an even more amazing performance on top to sell it

#i actually love him #y’all i’m so confused #cant get over ‘had you heard of my name before your capture or was this the first time’ PRJDHSJSKS MY MAN #i think i might be hot for him #hard to distinguish between unadulterated admiration for the performance and attraction lololol #i think it’s mostly the performance but that kind of admiration tends to bleed over u know #hence. confusion #i want him to read me a creepy slimey bedtime story #i think his voice could lull me to sleep so fast #i wonder how much of it can be drawn back to him not having heard of the show prior to being cast #i watched an interview where he talked about that #natla #atla live action #zhao #thoughts #ken leung

[gointothevvater]

Her full profile is finally here! Seven pages of information! I may have gone down the rabbit hole just a tiny bit! 

.

St. Cecilia Jameson

Gender: Cis female

Status: Alive

Occupation: Singer for British rock band Stiletto ("Like the knife or like the shoe?" "Yes.")

 Family: Elizabeth Robinson, née Wallis (Mother), Bryony Robinson (Older half-sister), Esme Robinson, née Davies (Grandmother, deceased), Herakles Zafeiriou (Biological father, though she's never met him), Evander Zafeiriou (Older half-brother, who she's also never met, though they've exchanged family photos and stories via email)

Voiced by: Florence Pugh (Speaking), Lzzy Hale (Singing)

Age: A few months younger than Pickles

Date of birth: December 15 (Sagittarius)

Place of birth: Oxford, England

Birth name: Felicity Robinson (Initially, only Sammy knows this, though the rest of SnB learns it at Esme's funeral)

Nicknames: Ceelie (By Pickles and Sammy, mostly, though the Dethklok boys pick it up eventually), Star (By Magnus), princess (By Skwisgaar)

Ethnicity: Half English, half Greek (Though she's unaware of the latter for most of her life)

Height: Five-foot-one

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship status: It's complicated. It's always complicated. She's unlucky in love. 

Current location: London, England

Appearance: St. Cecilia is a petite woman (She's half a head shorter than Pickles!) with golden skin and long white-blonde hair, which she wears in a high ponytail. She has thick, dark brows and bright brown eyes (Skwisgaar says she has "wolf eyes"). She has three white marigolds tattooed on each shoulder, a labret piercing, and a vertical collarbone piercing at the hollow of her throat. Her ears are pierced three times each, in which she wears two silver hoops and a silver stud on each side, and she has a small black star beneath each eye. She has a Christina piercing, nipple piercings, and a belly button piercing. She has a No Time For Antivenom tattoo on her sternum, and a European robin tattoo at the back of her neck. Along her spine, she has a tattoo reading "to thine own self be true." She has a shitty stick-and-poke crown tattooed behind her right ear. She has a pear body type, with wide hips, a small chest, and an even smaller waist (Nathan can encircle her waist with his hands). She typically wears a black muscle shirt, ripped dark jeans, heavy boots, black driving gloves, and a studded black leather collar with a D-ring at the front. She also wears a Gibson pearl guitar pick on a necklace, which was given to her by Pickles when they first started dating in the 80s. She wears a silver cuff on each ear, and her tongue is pierced with a simple silver stud. 

During flashbacks to the Snakes N' Barrels era, she's shown with darker blonde hair cut in a mullet style, and only her labret and ear piercings, plus one on the right side of her nose. She wears a cropped white tank, with high-waisted jeans and black Converse sneakers. She wears mismatched armbands, one black, one striped, and the same collar she wears in the present.

Her more casual look consists of a black button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up, which she wears tucked into a pair of leather pants. She wears pumps instead of boots, and her hair is twisted up in a clip. She keeps her collar, but doesn't wear the pick necklace or her ear cuff, and she switches her hoop earrings for studs. She doesn't apply her stars.

For fancier occasions, she wears a black dress with spaghetti straps and a very short, flared skirt, black opera gloves and black strap pumps. She, as always, wears her collar with it, and she pulls her hair into a high bun. 

Personality: St. Cecilia is cocky, witty, and teasing, but ultimately good-natured. She's a bit selfish and stubborn, but she does everything with 110% effort, hoping to impress people, even if she winds up getting hurt in the process. She'll do literally anything for validation. To say she's vain would be an understatement. She's something of a coquette who flirts with both men and women, and is she has a tendency to "think with her dick," as Tony once put it. She's slow to anger, but quick to jealousy, and she holds grudges for far too long. She's the playful type, but it's largely in a chill way. She's an obvious extrovert, and the role as frontman for Stiletto came very naturally.  

Skills & Hobbies: St. Cecilia writes good poetry, great song lyrics, and terrible erotica. She likes plants and is quite the chess player (Though she hasn't managed to beat Charles even once), which she learned during her school days. She also learned to fence, ride horses, and speak fluent Latin there.

Musical Talents: She's a classically trained singer (When she was little, she was part of her church's choir), and she writes most of the song lyrics and some of the music for her band, Stiletto. In Snakes N' Barrels, she played lead guitar on a white Jackson Pro Series Rhoads RR3, but during their reunion concert, she plays a more modern Gibson Explorer '76 Reissue 2010 Cherry. She took piano lessons for several years as a child, and she's still pretty good. Nothing outstanding, but if Stiletto needs to incorporate a piano into a song, she's perfectly capable of playing it herself. 

Relationships: 

-Pickles the Drummer: Their relationship is a complicated one. They've known each other for ages, and they've been together through the highest highs and the lowest lows, all the way down to rock bottom. She partially blames him for her late teens and early twenties being the fiasco they were, and she cut off contact with him for a long time after the SnB breakup. During the run of the show itself, the two reconcile somewhat and even become more or less friends before Abigail shows up and things start to crumble again. They have a hard time admitting it, but there's love between them, and there has been for a long time. They're both afraid to try getting together again, though, as there's a mutual fear of the relationship ending as it did the first time, with them hating each other again. They're back together at the end of Doomstar, but there's no way of telling if the love between them is enough to keep them together or if they'll just fall apart all over again. 

-Magnus Hammersmith: They were more off-and-on than anything, but they were together for years, even though quite a bit of it was long-distance. It wasn't supposed to be a serious thing. It was just supposed to be a quick fuck. Then it was supposed to be a performance to annoy Pickles, but Magnus quickly realized that St. Cecilia's feelings for Pickles were too strong for her to be any use to him in his revenge plot. The basis of their bond formed because they understood each other on a level they've never known with anyone else: Former Snakes N' Barrels guitarist St. Cecilia Jameson and former Dethklok guitarist Magus Hammersmith both understand on a fundamental level what it's like to be left behind and forgotten. Magnus caught a bit of feelings, and when Roy Cornickelson's funeral came around, Magnus warned St. Cecilia not to attend. It was their last interaction, and it forever cast him in a positive light for her, even after she learned what he was doing with the Metal Masked Assassin. 

-Nathan Explosion: They get along pretty well. Their first meeting was at a singers-only Crystal Mountain party, and they ended the evening with a quickie in the coatroom. He wrote a song about the encounter, but Pickles never figured out that it was about St. Cecilia, which Nathan thinks is just the funniest thing. He mostly sees St. Cecilia as one of the guys once she meets with Dethklok again for the SnB reunion. It's a "been there, done that" kind of deal. She's not brutal, but she's funny and she's fun, and goddamn, is she pretty, and they would absolutely hang out if they could get their schedules to line up.

-Skwisgaar Skwigelf: St. Cecilia is nothing short of enchanted by Skwisgaar. It's not a crush, exactly, but she has a huge amount of admiration for him. They've practiced together a time or two, but she's a little rusty and winds up with her fingers bleeding because her calluses have gone soft. He tends to tease her over her soft hands. A guitar god, he tells her, can't have hands like a princess. His calling her “princess” becomes a bit of a thing for them. The two of them often have brunch together, talking shit and drinking. She's good for him; He's never had a female friend before.

-Toki Wartooth: Within the series itself, St. Cecilia hasn't given Toki much thought. He's cute, but he's just sorta there. His incident during the SOBERTOWN USA concert really scared her, and she more or less avoids him after that. Post-DSR, though, their relationship changes. He, like her, was hurt by Magnus, and even with him dead, Toki misses him terribly. St. Cecilia misses him, too. As sad as it is, this becomes their common ground. Their other connection, odd as it sounds, is pole dancing. St. Cecilia does it for exercise, and Toki did it for money, and they often compete to see who's better on the pole. 

-William Murderface: St. Cecilia actually has a begrudging fondness for Murderface. He's awful, but he's also pretty funny, and she likes to hear him talk about knives and medieval weaponry, as her family home is full of such things. They clash over things, of course, but she likes being around him more often than not.

-Charles Offdensen: St. Cecilia really likes Charles, actually. He's basically the only person on the show who's really "on her level" class-wise. He attended Harvard, and she attended Oxford, so they have a great deal to talk about. They play a lot of chess and fence on occasion, and if it weren't for her feelings for Pickles and his obligation to the Church, they just might have gotten together.

-Dick Knubbler: They're friends, in a way. She thinks he's kind of a weirdo, but he knows how to have a good time, so as long as he isn't hitting on her, she likes being around him. 

-Abigail Remeltincdrinc: They became friends mostly due to the fact that they were both women in the music industry (And both working for Crystal Mountain) and supporting each other seemed the right thing to do. Abigail getting involved with Dethklok and catching Pickles's attention quickly became a sore spot, and they drifted apart after that. After DSR, things got even worse. Abigail, naturally, is glad that Magnus is gone, while St. Cecilia is devastated by the loss. They had something of a falling-out over it, and they haven't really spoken since. 

-Edgar Jomfru: Despite being very different people, St. Cecilia really enjoys Edgar's company. He merely tolerates her at first, but she grows on him, to the point where they're legitimately friends come Doomstar. The two of them often have lunch together on the roof of Mordhaus so they can get some fresh air. 

-Family: St. Cecilia's family consists of her mother, Elizabeth, her older sister, Bryony, and her now-deceased grandmother, Esme. St. Cecilia has a very formal, cold relationship with her mother, and she has no desire to change that. As far as she's concerned, her mother doesn't deserve to have a good relationship with her. St. Cecilia adores Bryony, though. Though Elizabeth brags about her, Bryony remains modest and is very close with her sister because of it. Though there's seven years between them, they may as well be twins. Esme, who passed away in 1993, was more of a mother to St. Cecilia than Elizabeth ever was, and St. Cecilia still misses her terribly. She was a big part of getting SnB off the ground, and the boys even came to her funeral.

-Snakes N' Barrels: St. Cecilia adores all the boys, of course, but Sammy is the only one she really kept in touch with after the breakup. He was her favorite long before Pickles joined. There was a pregnancy scare not long after the band took off that somehow, against all odds, brought the two of them even closer. Sammy was St. Cecilia's first love. Her relationships with Tony and Snazz were much more professional, though none of them were anywhere near professional. The crown tattoo behind her right ear was done by Tony on a drunken night in, and it was too good a night for her to even consider covering it or getting it removed. 

-Stiletto: She gets along with them all quite well! She's known Niamh McLoughlin, their bassist, the longest, and their friendship dates back to their school days. Lex Clarke and Priyanka Dayal, the drummer and the guitarist respectively, came as a package deal, as they've been more or less married for years. St. Cecilia adores them and the sweetness of their relationship. She's a little envious of them, actually, though she would never say so.

History:

-Childhood: St. Cecilia was born in Oxford, England to Elizabeth Robinson. She was raised more or less at her family's girls-only boarding school, away from her mother. When she was fourteen, she fell off a horse during an equestrian class and badly injured her shoulder. She was one of the popular girls during her school days, up until she hit fifteen and decided that she was no longer a child and had a right to demand respect from her emotionally distant mother. She quit the piano lessons she had been taking for several years and took up the guitar, though it aggravated her injured shoulder and even as a teen, she developed a dependence on painkillers. This rebellious period stretched until she was sixteen and ran away with the help of her grandmother. St. Cecilia was given her name just before she left, so it would be easier for her to hide, as well as a hefty sum to tide her over until she could get herself settled. She was only in LA for a few weeks before she met Sammy at a bar where the SnB prototype band was playing. Naturally, Snazz and Tony weren't thrilled with the idea of Sammy's kinda-sorta-girlfriend trying to become their lead guitarist, and when Snazz disparagingly referred to St. Cecilia as Yoko, she broke his nose (How could he have not expected violence when a Beatles-loving British girl was called such a horrible thing?). This earned their respect and is an event that they laugh about to this day. 

-Snakes n' Barrels era: St. Cecilia stuck with the band for several months before they found Pickles, and she was smitten with him the moment she heard him sing. Esme was an important source of financial support during their formative years. The band made it big after not too long, and they all grew quite close. St. Cecilia ended up in an ill-fated off-and-on relationship with Pickles as time went on, and to this day she doesn't remember the first time she told him she loved him. It wasn't long after his first OD and his following stint in rehab that she told him, and they were both drunk in celebration of his release. His tolerance, even post-rehab, was far higher than hers, though, and he remembers, though he sometimes hates that he does. Though there was genuine love between them, the stress of the band and both of their substance abuse problems drove a wedge between not only the couple, but also the entire band. Coupled with Pickles fucking groupies behind St. Cecilia's back and St. Cecilia's becoming a rather serious Vicodin addict to combat the pain in her injured shoulder, the band was doomed. Pickles came to see St. Cecilia off on her flight back to England, saying he would meet her there when his next residuals check came in, but he never made it, and they didn't speak to each other for years afterward. It hurt, but St. Cecilia supposed it was for the best. A clean break, and all that.

-Preklok: After SnB broke up, St. Cecilia returned to Oxford, staying with Bryony in their mother's guest house as she tried to figure out her next move. Despite her gift for writing lyrics, she had no talent for writing books, and that idea quickly went down the drain. She still received a large amount of money in residuals, but she was reduced to a mere socialite, though it mostly agreed with her. At her mother's insistence, she attended a few classes at Oxford University. She absolutely loved it. In 1992, Esme passed away. St. Cecilia only told Sammy about it, but he took the initiative and brought Pickles, Tony and Snazz with him to the funeral. St. Cecilia was initially pissed, but she really appreciated the support. That was the only time she saw Pickles between SnB's breakup and their reunion concert. He was devastated when her parting words to him were "I love you with everything I am, but I never wanna see you again." In the mid-90s, she posed for an issue of Playboy, and Pickles has a copy of the issue tucked away somewhere. It wasn't until 1998, when she moved to a little flat in London, that St. Cecilia reunited with her school friend Niamh and the idea of Stiletto came about. They found Priyanka and Lex at an open mic night at one of the local clubs, and they hit it off, both as friends and as bandmates. They played at many clubs and pubs, and they were soon found by a scout at another open mic night. They signed with the UK branch of Crystal Mountain Records and were assigned the surly but efficient Melinda Glasscock as their manager, and within three years, Stiletto was huge, due in part to St. Cecilia's residual fame from Snakes N' Barrels. Their first tour was through Europe, but the second came to America, where St. Cecilia met Magnus in a bar post-show. They got on really well, and she invited him to her hotel room for the night. They exchanged numbers and got quite close over time, with her even flying him out to London from time to time so they could hang out. Magnus knew who she was from the start, and while he planned to use her feelings for Pickles to get her on his side, that soon faded and he came to genuinely like her. She wouldn't learn who he was until later on. A few years before canon, she had a quickie with Nathan in a coat room at a singers-only part at Crystal Mountain records, and he used the fact that she couldn't fit her mouth around his dick as inspiration for Dethklok's infamous song "Glasgow Smile."

-Season 1: 

-St. Cecilia's first mention within the confines of canon is during Performance Klok, when Pickles mentions he hasn't been in a serious relationship since the '80s despite the fact that he would certainly thrive under such attention. 

-She first appears in Snakes N' Barrels, during the documentary the Dethklok is watching. The guys are a little critical when they (Save Nathan, who's known for a long time) learn that part of SnB's downfall was due to Pickles's failed relationship with St. Cecilia. There's some comedic nonsense talk about fucking one's guitarist before Pickles goes to speak with Charles. Though St. Cecilia is working on an album with Stiletto when she's asked to go the reunion, she manages to push through and finish in time, though she arrives nearly late. She finds Pickles backstage, and when he sweeps in to kiss her, she pulls away a bit, saying they can't do this, as she's spoken for. She lets him hold her close, though. The rest of Dethklok finds them like that, and St. Cecilia excuses herself to go find Sammy, Tony and Snazz. There's some talk about Pickles not leaving Dethklok, which he says he won't, but they're rather worried after catching him with St. Cecilia in his arms. Meanwhile, she manages to find the boys, and they meet with Pickles backstage. While the boys partake of the Totally Awesome Sweet Alabama Liquid Snake, St. Cecilia doesn't, as she once humiliated herself by passing out on stage and doesn't wish to repeat the incident. She presses a kiss to Pickles's palm before they go on stage, an old ritual that they were never able to shake. What happens is far worse than someone just passing out, and she and Pickles leave the stage amidst the chaos while the medical Klokateers take care of the boys and see them off to the hospital. It's a disaster. She's embarrassed and angry, and she turns down Pickles's offer of a ride home and calls someone instead, as she didn't get her money converted and can't pay for a cab. This someone turns out to be the man who's claimed her, Magnus, and Pickles is none too happy about it. He tries to stop her from going with him, but it doesn't work. 

-She isn't seen in Dethkids, but she is mentioned. When Pickles starts drinking harder than usual, he finally gives in to the urge to call her, to talk about how Sammy and Snazz and Tony are doing, and to tell her that she should steer clear of Magnus. He's so drunk, though, that she barely has even an idea of what he's talking about. 

-Offscreen, but somewhere between the two SnB episodes, Magnus and St. Cecilia abruptly break up. She has a feeling something was going on with him, but his sudden disappearance really hurt her. They had been together off and on for years, after all. A few weeks before he left, he bought her a little pink knife and showed her how to use it, just in case he wasn't around to protect her. When he left, he left his guitar behind, and she still has it as of Doomstar. 

-Season 2: 

-She's mentioned by Seth in Dethwedding, though only as "that British chick" he thought Pickles would eventually have married. Pickles nearly decks him for even mentioning her.

-St. Cecilia's next appearance is in Snakes N' Barrels II. In part one, during the advertisement for the SOBERTOWN USA concert, she's missing from the band lineup, and Pickles is both relieved and a little concerned by her absence. 

-In SnB II part two, Nathan, Skwisgaar and Toki find her among the crowd at the SOBERTOWN USA concert. Nathan asks if she wasn't invited to play, but she says that she was: She just didn't think it was right to play without Pickles. Realizing that Pickles is sneaking around backstage, she leaves to go find him and try to keep him from doing something he'll regret. She only finds him just as Tony, Snazz and Sammy start freaking out, and she only just manages to keep Pickles from killing Rikki Kixx, though she honestly doesn't mind the thought of him dead. She pulls Pickles away from the stage, where he calls the Klokateers to take care of Sammy, Snazz and Tony, and she sets to icing down his bruised knuckles. She tells him that she and Magnus broke up, and he's thoroughly pleased about it: She's too good for him, anyway. That irritates her a bit, but she tells him to call her sometime, though she insists he do it when he's not drunk off his ass. 

-Season 3: 

-Ironically, when Pickles calls her in Dethhealth to inform her that he's dying, he's in fact drunk again. She wants to go to Mordhaus to see him, but he tells her to stay where she is, as he doesn't want her seeing him like that, though she's seen him at rock bottom as it is. At the end of the episode, he's drunker and higher than ever, but he calls her again to let her know he's all right. She can't understand him, though, so he puts Nathan on to explain. She’s thoroughly relieved, but she’s still considering going to Mordhaus to see him. She implores of Nathan, "Take care of him, all right?"

-Offscreen, in the time between Dethhealth and Dethmas, Pickles goes to London for a while to appease St. Cecilia, and to their mutual surprise, it's not really all that different from how it was when they were actually together. There's lots of cuddling and kissing and great sex and just... Hanging out. It's easy for them to be together. They have their share of problems, but the old spark between them is still there. Pickles is honestly a little scared of that: What if he falls for her all over again just for her to break his heart like she did last time? The fact that she has Magnus's guitar makes him doubly suspicious. He starts drinking harder than ever to drown out the thoughts of her. 

-In Rehabklok, when Pickles's drinking is brought to the attention of the band and he's sent to rehab, he tries for a while to blame it on St. Cecilia. She broke his heart, and he drinks to cope. It makes perfect sense, until he starts to really think about it and realizes that he's equally at fault for how their relationship (And also SnB) fell apart. He realizes, after many years, that he hurt her as badly as she hurt him. And that makes him feel even worse. He talks the doctor into letting him call her to apologize, but it doesn't go well: She's a little offended that he would even consider blaming her for his drinking, given he was a drunk long before they met. "Is that what I am to you now? An excuse to get drunk and act a fool?" Not long after that, Pickles realizes the real cause for his drinking.

-Just before Charles goes to speak to the UN in Doublebookedklok, he calls St. Cecilia and cryptically asks her if she speaks Latin. She owes him a favor for getting her out of some legal trouble, so she can't really refuse. Several months before, she punched a scummy paparazzo who called Magnus washed-up, and Charles used his reeducation program to keep those involved from pressing charges or damaging St. Cecilia's reputation. 

-Season 4:

-In Fanklok, before Charles meets with the band to discuss Klokikon, he welcomes St. Cecilia to Mordhaus and presents her with an ancient-looking journal that belonged to Aurelius Isambard, one of the original prophets of the Church of the Black Klok. She's taken down to the basement, where she's introduced to Edgar Jomfru, and gets to work. 

-In Diversityklok, after he's spoken to Edgar, Charles speaks to St. Cecilia. He finds her engrossed, but thoroughly worried. She asks if this is real, and she's even more worried when he tells her it is. 

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia has been hard at work translating the journal, and she's come to a passage that seems to describe the growing tension between the band. It also mentions an approaching star, and she takes to sitting on the roof at night to observe the sky. 

-In Prankklok, when Pickles tells Nathan that he's not allowed to drink any tequila during their friender-bender, Nathan tells him he can't visit St. Cecilia when they stop in London. Pickles reluctantly agrees. Not long after, we see Pickles on his phone, though, debating on calling her just before he notices the storm warning.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia approaches Charles about a phrase repeated over and over in the journal: Fata sidus oritur, the star of fate is born. 

-After Charles breaks the news about Ice Festival to Skwisgaar in Bookklok, he goes to speak with St. Cecilia and Edgar in the basement. She's tacked two star maps to the wall: One from the previous week and one from the previous night. There's a spot near the center of the first map that seems bigger on the second one. She looks like the world is ending when she tells him it's the Doomstar. It's real. It's coming? When? Soon, she says. Far too soon.

-When Charles tells the boys he's going out of town in Dethcamp, it's to take St. Cecilia to an observatory, where they meet with Ishnifus and spend a few days tracking the Doomstar's movement as it comes closer and closer to Earth. 

-In Going Downklok, when Pickles shows up all decked out for his meeting with Abigail, Nathan is quick to ask, "Don't you have a girlfriend?" Pickles insists he doesn't; He and St. Cecilia was hurt and angry the last time they spoke. On top of that, he believes she's all the way in London, and Abigail is right there. 

-Offscreen, between Dethdinner and Breakup Klok, St. Cecilia is tagged in the video of Pickles leaving Dethklok by a drunken Toki. She's incredibly hurt. Pickles has nothing, he said. She, apparently, is nothing.

-In Breakup Klok, Pickles tries to call St. Cecilia to invite her to his wine tasting, but she refuses to answer and sends him straight to voicemail. Towards the end of the episode, after the escape from Salacia, Charles requests a check-up on Edgar and St. Cecilia back at Mordhaus, and Pickles is stunned and angry to learn that she's been more or less within arm's reach for months. Had he known, he's certain things would have been different-- He wouldn't have tried to make a move on Abigail and he wouldn't have fucked up his chance to get back with St. Cecilia again.

-Offscreen, St. Cecilia speaks to Charles about staying at a hotel for a few days, just until Roy Cornickelson's funeral, after which she'll return to Mordhaus and her translation work. The day of the funeral, though, she receives a call from Magnus telling her she absolutely cannot attend, as he can't guarantee her safety. It's the last time she has contact with him before his death. We also see her watching the news about Dethklok's breakup and the insinuation that Abigail caused it, and St. Cecilia chucks a bottle at the TV, mirroring Pickles's actions in SnB II.

-In Church of the Black Klok, St. Cecilia is fetched from the hotel by Klokateers and taken to the Dethsub, where she meets with Charles, pointedly ignores Pickles, and goes to work with Edgar instead. 

-The Doomstar Requiem:

-In "One of Us Must Die," St. Cecilia can be seen on one of the slides, staring up into the sky with Isambard's journal held to her chest. Towards the end of the song, reading from the book, she sings, "Dethklok, they must be rejoined/Evil, it must be destroyed/No more apathetic stoics/They can learn to be heroic/Write the song that will be our salvation..."

-In "Training," while carrying the journal, she sings the lyrics, "As the prophecy foretold, the Doomstar has been born/And you all will be endowed with a power known to none." Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface are looking at the art of the Prophecy, but Pickles is watching her. Ishnifus places a hand upon her shoulder, and they sing together, "The Deth lights are within you all waiting to be woken/And when the five are united, the evil will be broken," in a show of solidarity.

-In "En Antris et Stella Fatum Cruenti," just after Ishnifus is killed and the Doomstar goes red, we see a shot of Charles, Edgar and St. Cecilia at the Church, watching the sky. 

-In "Morte Lumina," in a mirror to Nathan and Abigail's kiss, we see Pickles approach St. Cecilia, and she presses a kiss to his palm (Which is a really significant gesture between them) before he pulls her into his arms. 

Trivia: 

-The stars on her cheeks are actually a makeup trick, as she's afraid to have a needle so close to her eyes. 

-She smokes Honeyrose Cherry cigarettes (Which have roughened her voice a bit), but she doesn't drink to excess, save when she's with Pickles. He's a terrible influence on her, but she adores him just the same. Considering him and Magnus, she has rather bad taste in men.

-Her signature scent is Estée Lauder's Cinnabar, which features notes of jasmine, orange blossom, cloves, and patchouli. She uses a cinnamon body oil when she wants to get Pickles's attention. It always works.

-She wants nothing more than to be loved, but she's keenly aware of the fact that most of the people who "love" her only want to coast on her fame. It's resulted in her having a hard time trusting people. The fact that Pickles and the rest of Dethklok don't need to coast off her is part of why she likes them so much.

-She's an iced coffee addict, and she prefers chocolate, caramel, or hazelnut varieties.

-She was raised Catholic, and while she lapsed a long time ago, she has occasional bouts of Catholic Guilt. Her name is related to her religion, as St. Cecilia is the patron saint of music.

-Her preferred alcohol is Bombay Sapphire gin, though she also likes white wine and champagne.

-She's a plant mom. Her flat is full of plants, including a little devil's tongue cactus she bought at a farmer's market in LA when she first came to America. It's traveled the world with her! It lived in the cupholder of Snazz's van for several years, and now it lives in her kitchen, perched on top of the microwave.

-She has a pretty serious oral fixation. She's always got something in her mouth: A cigarette, a pen, a popsicle, someone's fingers, a dick. Depends on her mood. Getting her tongue pierced helped a little, as she can play with the stud, but some habits just can't be broken.

-She and the rest of Stiletto own a condo building in London together, and she naturally has the penthouse to herself. It's very airy and open, with lots of mirrors and plants and exposed brick. One corner of her living room is just a huge window that looks out on the city. It's her favorite feature. Magnus is too nervous to go near it.

#this is a lot but i feel like she feels like a real character almost #Metalocalypse #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #william murderface #charles offdensen #magnus hammersmith #mtl #my mtl #st. cecilia jameson

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 16 - In Which Charles Vane Destabilizes the London Real Estate Market and Takes a Bath

Also known as the chapter I finally write the Charles Vane bath bomb scene that is the entire reason I began writing this fic. It still turned out more weird and angsty than I wanted it to. But here we are.

Charles has been acting a bit strange lately. Strange in a way that doesn't match his usual strangeness. In fact, one might say that this new strangeness is completely antithetical to his normal sort of hyper-aggressive, hyper-masculine nonsense.

That's not to say Charles has gone soft. He's still going to the underground bare knuckle boxing ring at least two days a week to bash other toughs' heads in, returning home in the early hours of the morning, bloody and bruised and grinning that feral sort of grin that makes Jack's guts writhe with a combination of desire and fear.

Because Charles Vane is a predator. Leonine in build and appearance, but more than that, he's a hunter. And most people on the other end of that look perish by his blade.

The ones that don't tend to become intimately familiar with an entirely different sort of blade – Eleanor Guthrie being a prime example.

And as much as Jack might enjoy that type of, heh, swordplay, he knows that it's a terrible idea. Particularly now, when the team is so cohesive. Charles and Mary have formed an unexpected but heartening accord with each other and with Max. Jack's own relationship with Max remains cordially businesslike, but that suits them both perfectly fine. And Jack has absolutely no desire to pry into Max and Anne's relationship.

Perhaps the largest surprise is that Charles has not once tried to challenge Jack's leadership, despite Jack having taken his crew and his command and his whole world. But Charles hasn't even really threatened him since that night in the hotel when Jack had first suggested they all settle down. And Jack is grateful. And he is more than disciplined enough to keep it in his pants to prevent ruining the accord they've all reached. More than able to put the con first and everything else second.

So Jack doesn't let the desire show. Keeps to the flippant and easily brushed off type of dialogue he and Charles have always shared. Non-flirtatious by its very flirtatious nature.

And Jack refuses to let the fear show either.

Because Jack has been on the receiving end of that look several times now, and he's still alive and kicking. And, as previously stated, Charles hasn't ever challenged Jack's leadership. And he's too Charles to ever play the sort of long con to disrupt him from behind the scenes that Jack himself prefers to employ. That Jack has employed against him – and isn't that just a tiny jolt of guilt right in the heart?

Completely unrelated to all of that, Jack has started keeping watch out the front window the mornings after Charles goes out. And when Charles comes up the street, stumbling and grinning and flying higher than the pipe ever got him, Jack is there to put a narrow shoulder under his thick arm. There to help him limp through the front door and into the front hall bathroom to collapse on the closed lid of the toilet seat and grin that terrible, frightening, arousing, alive grin up at Jack. Who just dabs at his cuts with the ruined, bloodstained towel he's started keeping in that bathroom solely for that purpose.

And Charles holds still through all of Jack's patching him up and getting him an ice pack for the bruises blooming on his ribs and admonishing him for getting into that state in the first place. And Charles lets Jack lead him up to bed and sit with him for a bit as he falls asleep, Jack brushing his long hair off his forehead so the blood and the sweat doesn't glue it to his skin as he sleeps.

Charles looks so peaceful like this, all tucked into clean sheets, with Jack's hand running gently through his tangled hair. Peaceful in a way he never looked with a needle in his arm. And Jack's honored to get to see him like this. With his guard down. Vulnerable.

Vulnerable is not the word one would have ever used to describe the Charles Vane from the streets. But this Charles Vane, the one who moved into a real house, if under protest. This Charles Vane seems more than content to let Jack and Anne and Mary see a side of him he's never shown before. And Jack keeps that trust close to his heart like a treasure.

But he's always been a greedy sonofabitch, reaching beyond his station, beyond the cards life dealt him by virtue of his birth. And Jack wants more.

--

Jack has kept patching Charles up after he gets back from the fighting ring he joined as a way to keep the pounding of the blood in his veins, the drive to fight and fight and fight until there's nothing in his head and his heart and his arms except the singing of his blood and the cooling tackiness of the blood he spilled. A way of feeling alive. A way of keeping sane that doesn't ruin all their carefully laid plans, all their carefully constructed facades.

It has also conveniently doubled as a way for Charles to keep his ear to the pulse of the street. A way to keep tabs on their former colleagues and competitors. And some outright enemies.

They move in different enough circles, Charles doubts they'll ever end up fighting for turf. But sometimes you need dumb muscle to knock over a mark, drive them further into your arms. Help them understand that they're in danger, but you can help them. You can keep them safe, if only they just trust you.

If only they sign over their soul.

And, and, it's helpful to know what the word on the street is about the rich fuckheads they're trying to con. Cuz sometimes the street knows things about them they don't even know about themselves. Things ratted out and weaseled out and just plain observed by the unfortunates forced to wash their dishes, or clean their houses, or drive their cars, or any number of menial, forgettable tasks that allow the person performing them unfettered access to their vulnerable underbelly that not even eel-slippery Jack or silent watchful Anne or flirtatious Charles have been able to gain access to.

Like, for instance, the fact that the Hennessy family is not nearly so well off as they like to pretend in front of guests. Sure, to the world it's all champagne and caviar and Mediterranean cruises. But Charles is have-a-drink-together-down-the-pub close with a fellow boxer whose wife's cousin's sister is a housekeeper for their big London house. And she knows there ain't hardly money to turn the heat on in winter. Goes to work in three layers and mittens to vacuum the priceless antique rugs and dust the slowly dwindling collection of priceless family heirlooms in the china cabinet and on the cold hearths' mantles.

Which is a good indication that just a little push, just a little pressure to their already cracking facade, and the property could be bought for a song. If only the facade can be maintained. If only there was someone to spin it so they don't lose their place in society. So they don't have to give up the game of pretend they're playing.

So they can pretend they're just going off to live in the relatively inexpensive Maldives because they're sick of English winters and not because the crumbling remnants of British imperial estates can be bought for a comparative pittance. Plus, everyone speaks English so it's properly civilized. Their British friends can be invited for reciprocated holidays without fear of losing face.

That's how Mr. Scott presents it, anyway. With no mention of fact that the islands are being slowly subsumed by the ocean. Not when that's why the deal appears so strongly in the Hennessy's favor. Cuz after all, you get what you pay for.

Charles allowed himself to smirk from the corner as he listens to the sales pitch, having been brought along since he is “friends” with Hennessy's wife, and a gentle hand on her arm, a quiet word about how much he would enjoy visiting their estate in the Maldives - his voice and touch and everything calculated to conjure images of him nude on the beach of said estate, just as Max coached him before the meeting - might do something to sway the conversation. Everyone knows Mrs. Hennessy's got her husband by the balls in a way Anne's admitted to admiring.

But someone like Mr. Scott is more than capable of sealing that particular deal all on his own. Gentle and bland and unassuming Mr. Scott. With skin dark enough and accent pronounced enough the Hennessy's can feel condescending even as Mr. Scott bleeds them dry. But his words are deferential, honeyed, and the facade is maintained. Everyone gets what they want.

So Max is pretty happy with the whole arrangement – with Charles keeping tabs on the London underworld, even if it results in a few scrapes and bruises. Happy with it continuing if he keeps getting results like this. So he'll keep doing it, even if Charles knows Jack isn't as happy.

But Jack's a worrier by nature. The kind of man to think and think and overthink, until he's thought himself into a right tizzy over all the hypotheticals and what ifs and Charles just doesn't understand, cuz he's never been like that. Never borrowed trouble when he's got enough right in front of him.

So Jack worries – mostly about Charles staying safe, he's pretty sure. About him coming home from the fights with cuts and bruises. And not about him blowing the con or anything. Which is kind of nice, really. Charles doesn't think he's ever had somebody worry about him for reasons other than a job. For reasons other than him being strong enough to do the job they need doing.

So Charles lets Jack take care of him, safe in knowing Jack ain't doing it to use against him. And it's nice - especially the getting to drift off to sleep with Jack petting at his hair.

Charles imagines it's like how a mother's supposed to sooth her child to sleep. All tucked into bed in pajamas, with a bedtime story. With the mother staying until he falls asleep, there to keep the monsters in the closet and under the bed away. There to sooth and to love and to care.

Charles never had a mother. Never had anyone to hold him like this, even. To care for him like this.

All his lays, all his fuck buddies – even Eleanor, the closest thing he ever had to a stable relationship – they'd all expected to fuck off as soon as the fucking was over. Or expected him to fuck off as soon as he got his rocks off. There was no lingering, no sentimentality.

And if they ever spent the night, his lovers – Eleanor, mostly – they expected him to be the one to hold them. And he'd expected it of himself, too. He's big and strong and tough. Protective. That's about as soft and sentimental as he'd ever let himself get.

So it's nice to be able to let himself be taken care of by people he knows won't use his vulnerability against him. And that's probably why he lets Jack talk him into taking a fucking bubble bath of all fucking things.

--

Jack has always been the type of person to push his luck. The kind of person who can never leave well enough alone. The kind of person who refuses to be content with what he has, always striving for bigger, for better, for more.

So that's probably why he thought it was a good idea to convince Charles into taking a bath with him one morning.

He's less beat up than usual. No bleeding, minimal bruises. Just that look in his eye that promises... Jack doesn't even want to start thinking about what it might promise.

Yes, absolutely no problem with getting naked together with a man looking like that.

Jack may, in fact, be very, very stupid. But Charles had agreed to the bath, swayed by Jack's argument that it would be relaxing, presumably. That it would help the lingering chill left from the dank parking garage Charles had spent the night in and from the walk home in the early hours of the morning.

And, in true Charles fashion, because that man knows absolutely no shame - and certainly not for anything so mundane as nudity - he'd simply nodded at Jack, proceeded up the stairs and into Jack's en-suite bathroom, and started stripping.

Jack turns away and busies himself with filling the frankly ostentatiously large tub. His doubts are beginning to have doubts about the soundness of this plan. But it's too late. Charles is already climbing into the bath. And the sigh of relaxation he makes as he sinks into the water makes any discomfort Jack feels more than worth it.

Jack's thrown something into the bath that bubbles and fizzes and smells sweetly of lemon and darkly of something spiced that makes Charles a lot more happy about this whole bubble bath idea. He'd been a bit worried he was going to walk out of this thing smelling like an entire fucking rose garden. But it seems like he'll be at most smell like he's taken a walk through a citrus grove, which is bearable. At least until he realizes that not only is the soap turning the water different colors, but there's a shiny slick of gold glitter riding along the top of the water.

Glitter he's sure he's going be washing out of his asscrack in the shower later.

And it seems pretty stupid to him to take a bath where you have to take a shower after. And he bitches to Jack about it. But then Jack's stripping down and getting into the tub, water up to his chin, and the smug look he's giving Charles – the look that says he knows that Charles is enjoying this, even if he won't admit it – that look makes Charles have to splash him with the foaming, sparkling water. There's no other choice really.

And then Jack splashes him back. And Charles just has to put him in a headlock – one tight enough he can't get out of it easily, the slippery bastard. And they're slopping water all over the bathroom floor, but it'll clean up easily enough. It's not like they don't have an overabundance of decadently soft towels in the fucking ridiculous built in linen cupboard.

So they wrestle playfully for a bit, Jack giving nearly as good as he gets despite being smaller. But he's never been afraid of playing dirty – something Charles has always admired – and the roughhousing ends with Jack's arm around Charles's throat. Well, really it ends when Charles sits on him, the only move available that wouldn't actually hurt Jack.

And Jack's arm moves from pressing gently, carefully, against Charles's windpipe down his chest until it's wrapped around his stomach, holding him closer.

Charles slumps down into the water. Leans back against Jack's skinny chest.

And then Jack starts scrubbing through Charles's hair, fingers massaging against his scalp. And that feels. Nice.

Nice enough that when Jack directs Charles to dunk his head underwater, enough to completely wet his hair, enough that Jack could hold him under until his thrashing limbs stopped twitching and he stopped breathing, Charles does it.

Jack guides Charles up out of the water. Guides him to lean back against him. Starts massaging at his scalp again, combing his fingers through Charles's wet hair, working out the strands until they're floating loose around his head like a halo.

They stay like that until the water cools.

Charles gets up and hoses all the fucking glitter off – berating an unrepentant Jack the entire time. But at least he does promise to use bath bombs that don't have glitter in the future. So there's that.

Charles pretends he isn't happy that there will be other times when they get to do this.

And Charles cleans up the disaster of spilled water around the tub while Jack showers. And Jack leads Charles from the bathroom into his bedroom. Lets Charles curl up in his bed.

And despite his halfhearted protests to the contrary, Charles is pretty fucking happy to drift off to sleep to the gentle tug and pull of Jack combing through his damp hair where it spreads across Jack's pillows.

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 16

[luninosity]

Working on the last (?) Character Bleed bonus story, today...

#

James Parr, clutching six bottles of wine, stared at the door. He hadn’t knocked or rung the bell yet, partly because of the armful of wine and partly because he was busy telling himself to remember to breathe.

 The door gazed back, pale blue and noncommittal. Maybe it didn’t approve of his choice of shirt, or his hair, or his sudden complete panic. What if Colby Kent’s door didn’t approve of him?

 He shifted weight, did not turn and flee, and murmured, “Knew I should’ve worn the blue shirt…”

 He didn’t know why he was here. More accurately, he knew why he’d come: Colby and Jason Mirelli had extended an invitation for dinner. And no one in any sort of right mind would turn down that invitation. Between Colby’s sweetness and Hollywood power, as movie star and writer and producer, and Jason’s muscles and family legacy, interwoven with the whole history of the industry, anyone would say yes; they might also say yes out of sheer curiosity, as Colby tended to be adorable and precious but private, and any glimpse inside was an honor.

 Also, industry legend said that Colby was a genius cook, and Jason wasn’t half bad either. James’s stomach suggested pointedly that he go ahead and knock.

 He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. Could he?

 He knew they’d asked him. He didn’t know why him, why they’d taken an interest, what’d prompted the invitation. He’d never even met Jason, though they’d been at the same events on occasion; he had met Colby, briefly, during the auditions for Steadfast. James winced, remembering.

 He’d wanted the role of Stephen, as quite a few people had, and he’d been lucky enough to get a call to come in. Colby Kent was non-negotiable as Will, obviously, as producer and—though the world hadn’t known it yet—scriptwriter. James had done the scene with Colby, and it’d been a gorgeous scene, lush and clever and full of first meeting anticipation on a balcony. He thought he’d done all right, but he also knew he hadn’t been quite right; he’d wondered even then. Colby was so very good—the awards attested to that—and had balanced Will’s privilege and sarcasm with delicate unexpected vulnerability, and James had possibly been just a little too flirtatious, treating Stephen’s lines about choices with not quite enough weight. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to do it again for real; he could take director’s notes readily, with humor and without argument.

 He hadn’t had the chance, of course, because Jason Mirelli had walked out of formulaic action-hero thrillers and right into Stephen’s Royal Navy boots and also into Colby’s heart. Jason had shown the world that he was brilliant, and James knew he’d been the right choice; everyone knew. No resentment possible, not with that performance. Only admiration.

 He’d be seeing Colby again tonight. If he managed to knock on the door. He did some more silent communing with it. That wasn’t the only reason for his nerves.

 Jason, on the phone, had said casually, “Oh, there might be four of us, you know my friend Evan, he’s been the stunt choreographer on all your superhero movies, yeah? He’s in town too, so he might drop by, if that’s cool with you.” And James had squeaked out some sort of embarrassing high-pitched affirmative, and collapsed back against his front door, because he’d just walked in from the gym when Jason had called.

 Evan. Evan Richards. Who had, yes, been orchestrating and choreographing and training everyone for all those stunts, for all four films so far. Who was devastatingly competent and patient and gorgeous in every conceivable way, as far as James could tell. Who was, in fact, the man James’s pathetic heart had fallen head over heels for, literally, because he’d walked in to meet their choreographer and learn the first-ever set of moves for his super-soldier character, and then he’d tripped right over a mat, because holy shit the muscles and the motion, fluid and flexible and fast and smooth as silk, on display and glorious…

 Evan, who’d been practicing some more complicated moves that he himself would be doing as James’s double, had spun around and run over and been at his side in a flash. Had held out a hand, while James sat on the floor and stared up at strength and power and big brown eyes and, oh god, dimples.

 Evan Richards was kind to everyone, even actors who forgot their own names while ogling him. Evan when not working on a film taught Krav Maga and self-defense classes at a local LA place, and offered classes for all levels and ages. Evan never seemed to be upset about anything, not even when someone hadn’t practiced enough or wasn’t getting a move; he’d just calmly explain it all again, with demonstrations, without making anyone feel guilty or inadequate. Evan tended to look at life that way, with calm good humor and excitement about challenges; he possessed a level of self-discipline that James’s impulses could only dream about, from morning workouts to the literal three alcoholic drinks James had seen him consume in nearly six years to consummate professionalism on set, but he managed all that in a laid-back sort of way, never judging anyone else for different decisions, which was good, because James himself had very definitely made some terrible ones regarding vodka and fluffy pink feather dusters, on occasion.

 Evan made all their movies better; he made James’s life better, and James’s heart had never recovered from that first tumble into pink billowing clouds. He’d thought it might; he’d thought it would get better, with time and Evan’s apparent lack of need to stare at him in turn.

 Nearly six years in, it hadn’t.

 He’d tried flirting with Evan. James knew he personally wasn’t some sort of heaven-sent sculpture of male athleticism, definitely not compared to Evan in a clinging super-suit. But he thought he was reasonably attractive—thick dark hair, blue eyes, good chin, what an ex had called “that wholesome young Superman look”—and he was pretty good at sex, and he was—he hoped—a decent guy to have around. That might be something Evan liked, right?

 He’d always loved falling into bed with friends, making people happy, any and all genders welcome, sometimes all at once. He could be, and had been, up for just about anything, and he liked people who were enthusiastic and kind and confident about what they wanted and liked. He’d thought, well, if he’s interested—I’m interested, and maybe—

 He really had tried. Complimenting Evan’s skill. Complimenting Evan. Asking Evan out for dinner—not drinks; James had noticed that—which had gotten a yes, but a complete and baffling immunity to flirtation over excellent sushi, as if Evan thought he really just wanted to be friends. Learning some good massage techniques and offering to give Evan a backrub had led to, well, him giving Evan a backrub, on set, both of them fully clothed, and Evan had thanked him after. Pretending to not understand a tricky bit of choreography had worked to the extent of getting Evan’s hands on him, but they’d been profoundly professional hands, and James had finally given up and pretended to get it at last.

 After that one he’d gone back to his co-star’s trailer, flung himself dramatically across her couch, and despaired, “What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Am I unlovable? Elizabeth, help me.”

 Elizabeth, who’d known him for years, had moved his legs, sat down, and patted his hip. “To be fair, darling, you’re kind of a slut. Perhaps he’s not into that.” In that amused years-faded English accent, the affection shone.

 “I am,” James had said, “but I just like making people happy. I want to make him happy. How do I make him happy?”

 She’d patted him some more. “Perhaps don’t throw yourself at him quite so hard? He might be shy.”

 James, who’d seen Evan welcome a new pair of stunt guys to set by running over and immediately diving into a recreation of the famous fight scene from the third John Kill movie, which both guys had jumped right into while grinning, had said doubtfully, “I don’t think so…”

 “Perhaps he’s not in fact into men?”

 James had sighed. And had drunk far too much of his hotel’s mini-bar, later that night; had winced at sunlight, on set, and had opened eyes to discover Evan holding out Gatorade and painkillers and a protein bar.

 He really had given up, or mostly. Stopped trying to flirt. Dated a couple other people, not seriously. Started trying to get used to being a friend, resigning himself to making Evan happy that way.

 He’d noticed that Evan liked travel and exploring new locations; James had made sure to do some research and to mention historic sites or local marketplaces or neat old castle walls they were allowed to ride bikes on. Evan had an astonishing sweet tooth for someone with those abs, and James found a tiny ice cream shop in Prague that deserved every bit of its reputation and brought him there, and loved the way Evan’s eyes lit up and the way Evan wanted to try every flavor and the way Evan licked a sample spoon.

 He’d wanted to hold Evan’s hand, walking back to their hotel along medieval cobbled streets under a low-hanging moon. He’d wanted, and he knew he was still and maybe always would be in love; he knew that like a stab to the heart. It felt like the moonlight and tasted like cookies-and-cream, sharp and sweet.

 He’d called Evan after they’d wrapped, after they’d all come back home to LA. He’d tried not to. Not being pushy or needy. He’d made it three days. He’d just wanted to hear that voice, calm and happy, talking about an upcoming martial arts class or ideas for changing up some heroic choreography. Evan had answered promptly, and they’d talked for two hours before Evan had headed to bed, having an early morning. After, James had started looking up the address of a secret jazz-themed speakeasy he remembered—they had a good non-alcoholic cocktail menu, too, and to-die-for chocolate cake, and spot-on historic recreation—because he thought Evan might like it, and then he remembered that they weren’t actually dating and they weren’t on location and Evan had no reason to put up with his company day after day.

 He sighed again, in the present. Clung to wine. Tried not to drop any. Evan might be here and see it.

 He hadn’t managed to knock, but the door opened anyway. James almost took an inadvertent step back, because muscles, but caught the reaction in time.

 “Oh, good,” Jason Mirelli said, grinning at him, “you’re right on time. And you brought, like, all the wine. Here, I can take those.” Boulders shifted and mountains bulged; the sleeves of Jason’s shirt stretched outward in forest-green despair as big arms collected all of James’s offerings. “Come on in.”

 James shook himself out of fascinated speculation about how Jason ever hugged Colby without crushing adorable blue-eyed slender height. “Um. I didn’t know what you, um, liked? So I just…brought a lot of things?” Good god. He was an actor, a successful veteran of press and publicity tours, and a grown man of thirty-two years. Surely he could talk. “Thanks for, um, inviting me? I mean…yeah. Thanks.”

  “Hey, we’re fans. We’ve loved all the Star Captain movies.” Jason sounded sincere, too. Honesty in craggy features, deep velvet-brown eyes. Casually upending the world: in what universe were Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli fans of James Parr? “By the way, Evan’s already here.”

#character bleed #bonus scenes #fic in progress #soon

[angelofberlin2000]

Keanu Reeves May Be Pure, But He's Not Oblivious  

America’s most memeable actor is back in John Wick: Chapter 3, a movie that's in on the joke of our obsession with Keanu. He might be too.

Alison Willmore

BuzzFeed News Reporter

Posted on May 17, 2019, at 10:40 a.m. ET   

For a guy without any official web presence or expressed interest in things online, Keanu Reeves goes viral a lot. He's spawned memes when he's looked sad and other memes when he's looked happy. There's a Twitter account, 198,000 followers strong, devoted to "Keanu doing things" like wearing a fedora or hanging out on set with Sandra Bullock. Creepshot footage of the actor giving up his seat on the subway or rattling around the Bakersfield airport after an emergency landing has racked up thousands of delighted views. Reeves may have risen to fame as a Gen X movie star ("the most soulful while being the most stoner-bro," as the New York Times recently put it), but it was millennials who carved out a permanent place for Keanu in the internet boyfriend hall of fame, as an embodiment of inexpressible melancholy and a figure too pure for this world.

The fact that the actual Reeves — like any living, breathing human — is likely a lot more complicated than that has never gotten in the way of how he's been enshrined in the popular imagination, in part because Reeves has never seen fit to fight it. Reeves works hard onscreen, while barely seeming to notice the eyes (and cellphone cameras) that remain trained on him when he's off it. Where other stars attempt to actively sculpt and control their public image, Reeves submits to the sometimes intrusive attention with bemused acceptance, aware of but apparently unbothered by the fact that there's an outsize version of himself living in people's heads. When questioned about it, he tends to be kind: "Yeah, I guess that’s like an invasion of privacy. They didn’t ask me," he told Uproxx of the bus video, the existence of which seemed to be news to him. Then he added, "They were nice people. We were in it together. We had a nice car ride."

When Reeves went viral again last week, it was for something he definitely knew was being recorded. He was on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert, doing promo for John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum, the preposterously enjoyable third film of the action franchise that's come to define this period in his career. Reeves, sporting some “I'm-between-roles” facial hair, talked up the stunts and how he was set to reprise his role as world-saving slacker Theodore "Ted" Logan in a third Bill & Ted movie, nearly three decades after the last one.

All of which led Colbert to coyly ask Reeves what he thought happened when we die — a ludicrously weighty question for the average talk-show exchange, but a perfect one for the bodhisattva of showbiz. And Reeves did not disappoint, answering simply that "I know that the ones who love us will miss us." It was both a perfectly shareable aphorism and a poignant reminder of his own experiences with losing loved ones, which are real and terrible and which were also outlined in a Facebook video that blew up to the point that the fact-checking site Snopes felt compelled to put together an entry on it, judging it to be "Mostly True."

Reeves is now 54 years old. The inhuman splendor of his youthful beauty (seriously, have you seen My Own Private Idaho lately?) has gradually softened into a more manageable gorgeousness that shows the touch of time while remaining a little unreal. The fact that Reeves isn't a kid anymore is, in fact, the whole point of the John Wick trilogy, which puts the actor in the eponymous role as a retired killer yanked back into violence after an arrogant Russian mob scion kills the puppy gifted to him by his late wife.

The John Wick franchise is the creation of Chad Stahelski and David Leitch, stunt coordinators turned filmmakers whose elegant action sequences make clear how often it's really Reeves there doing the work, having a swordfight on a motorcycle or slowly sinking a blade into a struggling foe's eyeball. His physicality is front and center, and it's both impossible (John should be dead a thousand times over) and extremely human (John bleeds, staggers, reels with grief). Like Reeves himself, John is at once larger than life and extremely to scale.

Reeves is famous for action. His biggest films are the Wachowskis' Matrix trilogy, those landmarks of bullet-time choreography and heady stoner philosophy for which his flat affect was perfectly suited, as well as Speed and Point Break. But he's always harbored a romantic streak too, even if it hasn't always been showcased well by leading roles (like his in 2006's The Lake House) that leave him looking lost. He's better as the losing corner of the love triangle in Nancy Meyers’ 2003 rom-com Something's Gotta Give, despite the grievous injustice of Diane Keaton throwing him over for Jack Nicholson. The John Wick films work so well not just because of their fight sequences and increasingly arcane assassin mythology, but because of the degree to which they're romance-adjacent. They're heartfelt films about grief, with John as a man lamenting the death of his love and losing pieces of the life they built together in each subsequent installment.

The further the John Wick series has gone on, the more it's curled around Reeves' own persona. The first was a comeback vehicle for Reeves that also happened to be about a hitman's comeback from normal living, and the second was a riff on contractual work obligations. By the third, John is as beset by admirers as Reeves was at that Bakersfield bus stop, only in the film they're affectionately trying to murder him. When he faces down two henchmen (played by Cecep Arif Rahman and Yayan Ruhian of the Raid series), they thank him for the honor of fighting him, and maintain a running commentary on his performance in Indonesian during the sequence. "He's getting slow," muses one as John peels himself off the floor, while the other points out that he is recently out of retirement.

The main antagonist in the new movie, at least physically, is a striver and self-declared fan named Zero (Mark Dacascos), who’s a devotee bumped up to the assassin big leagues. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time!" he declares. "And so far you haven't disappointed!" Zero is a surprisingly funny creation who owes something to Sonny Chiba in Kill Bill: Vol. 1, in how he's introduced, and something to Anne Baxter in All About Eve, in how he's ready to destroy his idol and take his place.

But Zero and his team also feel like a meditation on modern fandom at its most intense, where people need the person they admire to live up to the image they've formed of them, with an implied threat as to what might happen if the object of their obsession doesn't manage this feat. Most of the characters in the John Wick movies are bewildered by John's efforts to get out of the game and live like a normie, but they treat him as a fellow professional. The baddies in John Wick 3, on the other hand, are fans who feel a sense of ownership over John because they've tracked his career so closely.

Reeves may have the most even-keeled relationship with celebrity of any A-lister working today, but in the beleaguered looks he shoots at his foes in this new movie, there's a hint of wry self-awareness. It doesn't feel accurate to describe Reeves as a reluctant movie star, not when he devotes so much of himself to what he does, and when he gamely participates in every aspect of the process. But in playing this reluctant killer, the actor does offer a glimpse of himself as someone who's aware that there’s a finer line between being loved by the public and being devoured by it than anyone would like to think about.

There’s a thrill watching Reeves in this role that’s related to how delightful it feels to see him turn up as what looks like himself in the trailer for Netflix's upcoming Always Be My Maybe — the rom-com loser and internet boyfriend all in one, mashing his face into Ali Wong's while muttering, "I miss your taste." We may like to treat Reeves as a kind of holy innocent, but just because he avoids artifice doesn't mean he doesn't know what's going on. ●

#keanu reeves #buzzfeed news

[dustbunny105]

Title: Worth Your While Fandom: Lost Light Pairing: Anolug Rating: G Word count: 1280 Summary: All Lug wanted to do was window shop. Unfortunately, Anode was keen to let her. A/N: Wow, did the ending on this one ever fight me. I meant to post this back during FemFeb, but couldn’t bring it to heel. Better late than never? I also decided I wanted to use the title I came up with for something else, so I’ll come back to edit that later. Edit: Was inspired by LL8 to change something Anode gives Lug as a gift.

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Lug isn't terribly alarmed when she hears the shouting or the blaster fire. Even the jostling that begins to ripple through the crowd doesn't get more than a grumble. She and Anode don't tend to frequent the most upstanding of planets, after all, and she's spotted her fair share of shadiness as she's wandered through the market. That her window shopping is going to be interrupted by some kind of police chase is neither surprising nor especially interesting except as something to tease Anode about missing.

Then her comms beep and Anode's voice comes through, "Hey, where are you?"

Frowning and unable to pin down the reason why, Lug answers, "Looking at crystal sculptures, like I said I'd be. Where are you?"

"Headed your way! Get someplace I can see you, huh?"

"I'm right in front of the booth we saw yesterday run by that Magisterian fellow."

There's a moment before Anode answers again, coinciding with a definite increase in the volume of whatever ruckus is making its way through the market. In fact, the volume seems to be increasing exponentially, as volume tends to do as its source grows closer. Uncertainty prickling through her lines, Lug glances around, mostly through the legs-- and other roughly leg-equivalent appendages-- of much taller market-goers. She's about to warn Anode that something is going on when Anode's voice sounds off again.

"Knowing where you are is a definite help," she says, "but I really do need to be able to see you."

A frown falls over Lug’s face even as she tries to roll a sense of dread off her shoulders. She looks around again, jostled by the crowd, and spots a stack of boxes beside one of the booths. A bored-looking mechanical being of a design she doesn’t recognize is unpacking them, slowly. She edges closer and, when they bend away to sift through the packing inside the box they’re working on, she carefully hops up onto the stack. Her plating, painstakingly polished up in hopes of convincing the market merchants to give her the time of day, glints in the sunlight.

“I--”

“Oh!” Lug hears Anode’s voice in stereo but doesn’t spot her right away. “I see you! Wow, you make that shine look good--”

That’s all the warning she gets before the flash of green and cream. In short order, she finds herself in Anode’s arms in midair as Anode catches her and literally dives back into the crowd. She hugs Lug close to her chest, not swinging her around to her back or even giving her room to transform. Lights flash above them and it’s a moment before Lug understands that they’re being shot at.

“Good news,” Anode chirps through a static buzz of exertion. “Our ship is ready, we’ve just got to pick it up. Also? We can now afford to pick it up!”

“You’ve been adventuring without me!” Lug blurts, not even touching the fact that she didn’t know being able to afford their ship’s repairs was a question. She’s surprised by the hurt in her own voice.

It clearly surprises Anode, too, whose face slackens with shock before curling with mischief. The light of her optics sparkles and she holds Lug ever so slightly tighter as she shoulders their way through the crowd and down a dim-lit alley. She says, “Aww--”

“Don’t you aww at me,” Lug snaps. She starts to cross her arms in a huff, but then quickly throws them around Anode’s neck when Anode parkours over garbage and boxes and a fence that rattles like it’ll drop them both. “And let me transform, would you?”

Anode throws a look back over her shoulder and grimaces, then drops into a crouch behind a dumpster. The officers-- are they officers? Lug doesn’t bother to ask-- in pursuit are a lot bulkier than Anode and more physically limited like most organics are, but they’re still plenty close enough to fire on the two of them. This is illustrated by the blasts zapping by above and around them, chipping at their meager shelter.

“I don’t think you ought to be on my back just now,” Anode says. Her smile is weak but warm and she arranges Lug so that she’s more protected by Anode’s own torso before launching out of their hiding place and darting around a corner.

“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” Lug grumbles into Anode’s chest. A blast passes close enough that she feels the heat against the back of her helm and she cringes closer. “What were you thinking going off on your own?” Hurt and concern bleed static into her words, but she commends how irate she manages to sound still.

“I was thinking,” Anode says around a grunt as she lands poorly on the other side of a heap of some organic trash and keeps going, “that you might like to enjoy your shopping trip.”

Lug opens her mouth and snaps it shut. When she opens it again a moment later, a long, low garble of noise which says everything at once and nothing at all comes out. It bounces off the walls around them and she catches one of their pursuers commenting that they think they might’ve hit “the puny one.” She ignores it, grumbling nonsense and refusing to look at Anode. It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous that Anode would go into a dangerous situation without backup so that Lug can admire items she has no hope of affording, and that’s half the reason Lug knows that she’s telling the truth.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lug informs her. She lets out an oof when Anode skids around a corner; daring to peek over Anode’s shoulder, she sees that the-- cops? guards? enforcers? Whoever Anode’s gone and got herself on the wrong side of, they’re closer. She grunts and shoves at Anode’s chest. “Now let me transform-- you can’t maneuver properly when you’re carrying me like this.”

There’s a moment that it seems Anode will refuse; she frowns down at Lug and her arms tighten. But then she’s darting back out of the alleyways and into another crowded market street and as she does, she readjusts her hold and swings Lug around to her back. Lug transforms as she goes, so familiar with this routine that she could perform it in the midst of recharge. Anode adjusts for her just as certainly, not so much as a moment’s hesitation in her steps. She pets down Lug’s straps and says nothing about the plating that adjusts just to pinch her fingertips. The probably-cops have stopped firing now that they’re back in the thick of the crowd and are falling ever further behind.

“Shot at and I didn’t even do anything,” Lug mutters mostly-- but only mostly-- for show as she settles in for the dash to their sorry ride off the planet. “The things I put up with for you.”

“Oh, you know I make everything worth it,” Anode says far too cheerfully as she dances through the crowd. The sounds of their pursuers are fading in the distance and they haven’t got far to go before they reach the shop where they left their ship for repairs. She rushes by too close to a booth and upsets the display, hurrying off again with the keeper shouting after them. She tosses something over her shoulder that Lug opens a compartment to catch automatically-- it's a set of mood pipes, something she spotted when they found the market, because why not while they're at it, she supposes. The grin is audible in Anode's voice when she all but sings, “Admit it!”

Lug audibly clicks off her vocalizer, refusing to do so-- at least out loud.

#transformers #mtmte #lost light #anode #lug #anolug #my writing #consent issues

[starsocsideblog]

did u want to hear pointlessly long rambling about ocs.....this is the post for u

okay so studying is killing me atm so i decided to use some chill time to chatter about my ocs…my kids….because lbr this blog is a mess of assorted information

stuff under read more

context? i suck at plotting and also gonna dodge some spoilers for now so all u need to know is that the story is set in a futuristic sci fi/urban fantasy sort of world (with some of those sweet dystopic elements thrown in because i love dystopias, even ya ones, especially ya ones) in which magic is a thing which a few people have (is it genetics? is it prophecy? this is why i don’t have a plot yet) but its sort of rather illegal to use and have because either a. magic users have put people in danger in the past and/or b. there is a prophecy that claims magic users will revive an old aristocracy based society in which those with magic had absolute rule and it sucked for every else so there was a revolution and honestly? no one wants that back. it sucked. mostly magic users have their magic removed and their memories wiped so they can start anew in society (although with a few restrictions for a while)

the main four kiddos are a bunch of late teens/young adults (i’m thinking about 19/20?) that have teamed up for various reasons to do some of that sweet illegal magic stuff and maybe jumpstart a prophecy that dooms the world but that last bit was an accident, and accidents happen.

first up is stella shields, who technically dates back to one of the first ocs i ever made??? (she has definitely changed a lot tho haha) stella is the self-proclaimed leader of the group given that she has good leadership qualities and is confident and brave and also very tol and swol, so there skylar

she has no memories of her childhood and is fixated on finding her birth mother, who she believes was andromeda sparks, famed/disgraced figure in prophecy. stella has no magic and believes it was removed as a child, and has been adopted by a lovely but kind of sneaky lady called tamara. tamara studies prophecy and such which is how stella even guessed that in the first place (also because they look super similar).

stella is a deconstruction of a heroic stereotype - she’s tall, strong, and despite having no magic she fights just as well as (if not better than) most of the cast. she even has the fancy heir-style backstory to boot. unfortunately, during the story…things…happen which deplete her strength and she has to take a backseat to the action, which tears her up inside but also prompts her looking at herself without a heroic lens and seeing her flaws/how much unnecessary importance she places on her status as a hero and her heritage

besides being obsessed with the idea of being a hero like her mother was, stella kind of has an ongoing identity crisis which she fills up with fantasies of finding her mother and dumping traits she thinks a hero should have in place of her almost “blank slate” personality (which she’s pretty in denial about). her character arc is about her finally recognising the way that she fills in others’ traits as her own and her growing as her own person and aaaaaaaa i love to see my baby mature

next is lina taylor, the problematic fave™ and stella’s best friend since high school. I’m not gonna lie i love lina a lot because she’s probably the first character i started applying actual flaws and consequences - as in, not 100% forgivable and pure intentioned flaws like being ‘too selfless’ and stuff.

lina is paranoid to the point where it hurts not only herself but others, and tends to lash out when feeling pretty much any negative emotion - sometimes her caution pays off, other times it does even more damage. she’s deathly scared of being betrayed and thus hates anyone knowing too much about her, lies about herself incredibly often, and will attack anyone who tries to get close to her if she feels threatened. however, she is a quick thinker and will immediately take a fall for her loved ones if she thinks one of them is in danger.

is lina a magic user? technically spoilers (eh…like its pretty early on? not a big one?) but someone dies and in her panic she brings them back to life. sort of. mostly. in that yeah, their heart beats, but they’re kind of (unknowingly) a walking corpse. her magic is of the healing variety, but explaining how magic works is kind of complicated in a character post rn….maybe later. just know that that sort of magic is a one-off and no, she can’t bring people back to life willy nilly (or even fully back to life at all)

honestly i love her character development as well because she learns that hey, she kind of is a pretty toxic person and has to work to undevelop these traits and make up for the times she screws up. it makes everyone around her happier, but it also makes her so much happier too (which i think she does deserve)

next is skylar ashe, technically good person? best known for doing his best, skylar is far and beyond the best magic user in the cast (main characters and probably even secondary characters too) probably because he’s one of the few characters that indulges in the slightly illegal hobby. skylar is well spoken and clever, and one of those people who has stupidly high aspirations at all times. he and stella have a rivalry thing going on, and they’re very jealous of each other (although skylar never notices because his self esteem is so low he can’t comprehend someone admiring him. he needs a hug)

skylar for the most part is a sweetheart (#teammum) and is a nice person to be around but can also be a bit scary given that a. he is very very manipulative when he wants to be and b. his moral code is a bit worn down in places. he tends to over-rationalise his own behaviour when guilt becomes too apparent, and can come off as cold. rip don’t piss him off mostly

skylar is sort of??? essie’s adopted brotherish person (essie’s up next!!). his magic appeared when he was a really little kiddo but his parents didn’t want to turn him because he was like 6. and thus a pair of lawful goods decided to buck the law for a while (like 10 years, which is a p good effort i guess) but that went about as well as expected and skylar eventually runs away from home, and comes under the care of essie’s mums. this is partially why skylar gets so much of his self worth from magic because despite the fact that it kind of screwed up his family it’s one of the few things he’s good at - he spent years and years practising so he could bottle it up (btw his magic is illusion and telekinetically based)

listen just give this kid some history books and a quiet room and he will be the most happy ever, and probably give you a hug and buy you lunch. his heart is in the right place most of the time and he does try to act in altruistic ways. that whole self-rationalising thing gets challenged a LOT throughout the story likethetimeheaccidentallykilledsomeonebutdontworryaboutthat and honestly? boy learns that no, you don’t need magic abilities/fun illegal hobbies 2 b kewl. u just need to love urself xx

fINALLY IS ESSIE IM LOVE HER TBH. vanessa mayford, known gay, and also part of the magic squad made up of skylar and a few other characters. a dancer by day and the voice of reason™ by night. except she’s not really that great of a voice of reason per se given that her response to “is that illegal” is “did u mean a challenge"

essie is very extroverted and a bit (a lot) of an attention seeker - if she’s there she’s mostly in it for the thrills. even if she’s not the best with reasonable advice (see above) she’s a bit of a bleeding heart and will always give someone a hug and a pep talk if they need it. on one hand she’s got her super overdramatic flair going on but also on the other she’s occasionally chill?? like she’ll do dumb stuff just for fun but is also pretty much unfazed by anything. a dragon or something could be staring her in the face and she’d just be like “can i jump high enough to kick it in the nose”

alas, as is the way with many loud people, she has pretty low self confidence and relies on the validation of others to feel like she’s accomplished anything in her life (which is one reason why she’s always trying to get people’s attention). she feels very unfulfilled with how her life is going despite still being very young, and thus is driven by the fatal american need to have a pretty good time to do reckless things just for the adrenaline rush - everything is a performance for her. she also hates conflict within her own group of friends, and sometimes brushes things under the rug if she thinks it’ll cause a problem, electing to try to deal with it herself.

essie’s magic has been a bit fiddly given that the rules change depending on the rules of magic (which tend to change from setting to setting). her magic is atm shapeshifting but the rules of it are getting a bit confusing so I’m thinking about changing it a little bit. whatever her magic is, she cares the least about magic and thus while she has a lot of raw power she can’t be bothered training to increase it (if she did, she’d probably outrank skylar power-wise).

in conclusion? essie is a babe and im love her a lot. she’s the charming, gay and flirty gal that we all need in our lives and one of my fave characters to write tbh. wins awards for best dressed, most likely to succeed, best dancer (she’s a cheerleader btw) and probably also prom queen. i would vote for her. she would probably cry but that’s okay

so those are my children i love them and now i have to go back to studying my ass off bye

#if anyone reads this: im love you #also like again. now thats theres actual concrete info on these kids here please ask stuff i might reblog some oc ask memes here #not too many tho i dont want to clog up anyone's dash #oc: essie mayford #oc: stella shields #oc: skylar aveiro #oc: lina vieira #corona's textbook