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residenthughes · 2 months

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mad at me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 3.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), creampie, praise, spitting & choking (nothing crazy, i promise!), use of pet names (my girl, sweetheart, baby, princess, sweetheart), slight degradation (if you squint?)

summary: jack's latest game has tensions running high and feelings left unresolved. lucky for him, you know just the solution.

notes: so...this is happening 😭 this is very much inspired by the devils latest game against the kings where jack got pretty heated 😵‍💫 who doesn't love a bit of angry! jack? 🫣 but yes, as i've mentioned before, i don't usually write smut, so this may not be the best so any tips or comments you guys have to share would be much appreciated! 💗this has been partially edited, so if you see any errors along the way, they'll be fixed soon! as always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! much love! <333

It takes a lot for Jack to get mad.

A sequence of events that all come to a boil, a mountain of incidents that snowball into an avalanche of his wrath. He’s so sweet, like sunny Sunday mornings that smell of fluffy pancakes and honey syrup - so, even now, so far into your relationship, you’re aware that moments like these occur. Of course, emotions wear thin like tired socks and you’re no stranger to your own and Jack’s that have seen all shades of the rainbow, but perhaps there’s something in the air, some electricity that changes the wiring of your brain because tonight is so different from the rest. Dissimilar from when you leave Jack be when his big emotions demand their place, unlike how you wrap each other in blankets of comfort when tensions have eased and everything is whole again. Because, again, this is not about you. It’s about Jack and how, as the universe has written it to be, gravity pulls straight towards him.

Things have been good - he’s come back from injury, back to his kingdom on the ice and the Devils have won back to back games - truly unheard of during their current season, beating their last opponent in regulation for the first time since 2009. It’s a big deal - the smile on Jack’s face says so, the satisfaction of his tone indicating so when he’s come back from his away games. So, you want this happiness to continue, because you love him and the happiness he illuminates but at the end of the day, his job is hockey. A coin toss of wins and losses that you’re trying to wrap your head around because you’re biassed and see all the commitment that him and his teammates put in everyday. As a result of this, Thursday happens; a dice roll of events that spiral into chaos.

You’re back home in Jersey, comfortably situated on the couch in the warmth of an ending winter that shows peaks of an upcoming spring. You’ve got popcorn in your lap because you’ve rediscovered how much you love the savoury snack, happily munching away as Jack’s game starts and the adrenaline kicks in. The first period is eventful with many saves that have you clawing at the couch, but then the second period starts and all hell breaks loose. Tensions run high and as level-headed as Jack is, he is not immune to agitation - subjected to a nasty hit into the boards, the opposing player purposely banging his elbow into Jack’s head. You’re about to start yelling at your TV screen like some drunken sailor because Jack’s been injured this season and doesn’t need more time away from what he loves, but Jack decides to get his lick back and you’re automatically silenced. Your jaw drags the length of the floor as you watch him crosscheck the hell out the guy, proceeding to rough the player up before referees interfere. Jack and the guy are arguing back and forth as they’re escorted into their teams’ penalty boxes and you’re just left bewildered, a mess of emotions with wide eyes as your stomach turns.

You watch astounded as Jack flushes in his temporary plastic home, eyes wide at he hurtles comments that leave the opposing player with a sour taste in his mouth. Jack’s shaking his head when he’s gotten what he needs off his chest, wiping away his sweat as his anger grinds to a simmer. Your eyes are glued to the TV, perched on the edge of your seat as your heart beats hard in your bruising chest. The power play continues on but you’re lost in a trance, awaiting Jack’s emergence from the penalty box that can’t come soon enough. Once he’s out, he’s sprinting for the puck and manages to get a breakaway that assures New Jersey a goal, but the loser in the penalty box with him is hot on his heels and Jack misses. He’s fuming once again, ranting to the referee that pays him no mind. Jack skates off, smashing his stick against the glass before he’s back on the bench and completely snaps it in half, a string of profanities leaving his lips.

You sit there in awe, your grinding teeth sinking into the flesh of your fingers as your brain becomes an all-consuming pile of filth. Your precious boy, who loves his three hour long naps and looks at you like you hang the stars in the sky, the hopeless romantic who pulls out all the stops for you simply because you deserve it and who holds you as if you’re fine china - he’s almost unrecognisable now, wearing his emotions like the number of his jersey as his expression pinches and his azure eyes narrow. A rush of emotions you both experience that make a home in the chaos of your minds that long leave the remnants of their havoc.

The clatter of Jack’s hockey bag echoes from the doorway, bringing you out of the syrupy daze you’ve been submerged in far too long. You leap off the couch as your body carries you towards the front door, electricity rippling down the ridges of your spine as your skin tingles with the unknown. You keep your emotions at bay for the time being, unsure of what state Jack may be in as you creep around the corner and catch an eyeful of his demeanour - blinding annoyance. An exasperated sigh pushes from his chest as he slips off his trusted beanie, the ruffle of his wet curls bouncing as his fingers card through his hair. You gulp.

“Ro?” you test the waters - short and sweet just to gauge his reaction, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Hey.” he bites, not bothering with looking your way as he shimmies his coat off with more force than necessary.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling helpless. “I saw the game…”

“The one I almost got fucking injured in?” he chirps, looking at you now with a pointed stare that burns with all the fire in his heart. No longer azure, his eyes singe with an almost midnight hue. “What a shitshow.”

“That was a dangerous hit, that guy’s got whatever’s coming to him,” you’re quick to reply, taking small steps towards Jack who hangs up his coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that people pay to watch you play.”

Jack stills in his movements, figure unmoving momentarily before his eyes throw you a lasting glance, the beginnings of a smirk working amongst his roseate features. “So, you heard?”

You blush under the heat of his undivided attention, gaze averted as you fumble with the hem of the hockey jersey on you. “Not necessarily.”

“Then what did you hear, baby?” he queries immediately, shifting so that his body now faces yours, an arm resting against the coat hanger as he sizes you up, unabashed and assertive.

Your stomach flips, the race of your heart undeniable. “You’ve got a mouth on you, so it’s easy to read lips.”

You’re chirping, working under his skin in a way that maintains some form of respect but has all the intentions of riling him up, which manifests into the beast you wish to see. A cocked eyebrow and a ticked jaw, flashes of disbelief flickering on his face. Once more, your emotions bear the weight of an anchor as excitement conjures up the swirl in your stomach, your masquerade crumbling at the seams as your nostrils flare, biting back a shit-eating grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he questions with a hint of humour, because he knows you like the back of his hand. You give him no response, preoccupied with suppressing the misplaced giggle that threatens to leave your lips. “I can’t believe this.”

The seams fully come undone, a snicker or two bypassing your lips as you retreat from the situation, ending up with your back against the door leading to the basement with Jack hot on your heels. Mirth bathes you in delight and you let it, a plethora of chuckles falling into your hand as you avert your gaze whilst Jack forgets any concept of personal space. Perhaps you’re deserving of whatever damnation comes your way, a punishment you’ve fully brought upon yourself, but when your senses fill with the waft of Jack’s earthy musk cologne and the remnants of his apple shampoo, accompanied by the warmth of his body that leans towards yours, you can’t bring yourself to feel a shred of regret.

His arm, enveloped by his raven black dress shirt, raises as he cages you in, vulnerable and at his mercy. “What else did I say, since you can read lips and all?”

This is a circus of words, meaning riddled in optical illusions that would have someone think none the wiser. Except this is yours and Jack’s circus, an act tailored for two that entertains your minds that run wild. A wildness you feed off as you meet him with the same decisiveness.

“This number,” you start, pointing towards the digits printed on your sleeve belonging to him. “86 is what people go to see - sorry, pay to see.”

You’re not really sorry, the smirk on your face says otherwise. “I think I said a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

“Besides all the huffing and puffing,” his tongue pokes at his cheek, a playful smirk betraying his flaring emotions. “You asked if he was there to play or to hurt people - fair point to make.”

“And all the others weren’t?” Jack’s moved closer, his thigh situating itself between the gap of your legs.

You bite your tongue at the friction. “You know the answer to that.”

“Maybe,” his caging arm leaves the door, the web of his hand sat against your chin as he holds your face, maintaining the same fiery gaze that unravels you altogether. “But, it’d be better coming from you.”

“Jack,” he’s flexed his thigh, your hand reaching for the button on his dress shirt as you wane in defeat. “Please.”

“I don’t follow.”

Your bawled fist meets his stacked chest. “Don’t play dumb.”

Jack chuckles, holding all power in the palm of his hand. “I’m just confused as to why my pants are wet.”

To prove his point, he draws his thigh away because he’s a selfish bastard and shows you the damp spot you’ve left after his thigh made its way between your legs. The shame that washes over you is unbearable.

Jack’s cold hands find themselves underneath the material of his jersey, one hand dancing along the outline of your underwear with a finger hanging over the top of the seam. “Oh, what to do with you.”

He’s such a tease, his ego large and in charge as you’ve long forgotten any sense of game at hand as your eyes pool with only an anguish he can extinguish. “Fuck me, please.”

“Why?” his tone light and airy, his finger hooked around the seam of your underwear as the material leaves your skin

You shiver at the breeze, eyes closed as your weak fist manages to grapple onto some material of his shirt. “Because, I need you and I think that goes both ways.”

The band of your underwear snaps against your stomach as Jack retrieves his hand, head cocked to the side as he considers the weight of your words with a locked jaw. Your teeth are sinking into the plumpness of your bottom lip, nothing but pleading in your eyes as you gaze up at him with all you can muster.

His hand lays against your cheek, thumb automatically caressing the skin - a touch that you not only lean into, but shiver towards. “Get upstairs.”

This is a fairly new playing field for you two - a game of cat and mouse that brings out an unfamiliar side to you, so foreign in nature that you second guess your desires and where your lust leads you. Jack doesn’t allow for any hesitation though, hand in hand with you as he comes into himself too. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips that lift, a soft smile surfacing amongst his features before you’re headed upstairs in a flash, scurrying towards your bedroom with a trail of your clothes left in your wake.

Jack doesn’t take long to meet you upstairs, his pinstripe blazer removed as he unfastens his tie around his neck. He spares you a lingering glance as you lay sheepishly on the bed perched on your elbows, legs ajar as your folds glisten in the soft bedroom light. Jack quickly rids himself of his clothing, slipping his boxers off to reveal his hard on. A comfortable length with all the girth to fulfil you, tip flushed pink as it brims with precum. It takes everything in you not to sink to your knees and fill your mouth with his cock.

As he approaches the bed, he motions for you to turn around and you do so with no questions asked, back arched as you wait in anticipation as you feel the bed dip with his presence. Jack comes up behind you, body so incredibly close yet somehow so far away as his hands make contact with your burning skin, giving the flesh on your back a brief massage. A surprised hum vibrates in your chest as Jack drags a single finger along the dip of your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he adjusts himself behind you, to which you push your ass back against his hard on.

“Stop teasing.” you sound more desperate than intended, cheek squished into your cool silk pillow.

“Can’t admire my girl before I fuck her?” The nonchalance of his tone draws a mewl out of you, your hips jutting as they search for any more contact. “Besides,”

Hands resting against the mould of your hips, one shifts as you feel his cold index finger draw in between your folds, fingertips swirling around your clit. You moan brokenly, body curling into itself. “You’re just here to take it, aren’t you, princess?”

You’re nodding before your brain can even compute his words, humming along to accentuate your point as his fingertips continue to swirl along the shape of your clit. It’s too much and not enough - a tug of war of sorts that makes your hips rock into Jack, an action that at one point, has his tip catching against your wet entrance. A hiss from behind you sounds as you grapple onto the pillow beside you.

Jack’s hand leaves you high and dry, but alias, his patiences dissipates into the night sky as he glides into you in one smooth motion, robbing you of your breath and sanity as your mouth gapes open and eyes roll. Sinking into the mattress, your spread legs accommodate for the snap of Jack’s hips as he starts to fuck you from behind, your back curving as you gladly take everything he’s offering. Face mangled into your hoard of pillows, your fingers cling to the duvet for some kind of security, at the mercy of Jack who pleases you in all the way he knows how.

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, maybe genuinely because his strength seems somehow restricted, but you’re keening high in your throat at how filthy his words fall from his rosy lips so easily.

“Harder,” you plead, losing yourself in the pleasure as your one hand shuffles to rub against your neglected clit. “Harder, please.”

And, he obliges, bullying his cock into you as you gasp at the impact. A smack lands against your ass, the supple surface sizzling as your hips retract, Jack’s ironclad grip holding you from escaping any further as his fingers make indents into your skin like notches in a bedpost.

“Hang on,” his pace slows, breath laboured as you feel him pull out of you reluctantly. “Turn around. I need to see you.”

You squirm against the sheets, easily complying with Jack’s wishes that suit you, your body turning as your sweaty-layered back sticks to the duvet. In the dimmed light of your bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Jack, whose wet curls fall in all the right places and how every outline of his well-built body drives you wild. You catch the shallow rises of his chest and the flush against his cheeks and as he tucks stray strands of hairs behind his ears, his hands find purchase at your thighs and draw you closer. It’s when he looks into your eyes, shameless in the pleasure written all over his face as he pushes into you again that you think you could never get tired of this view.

Your walls mould to the shape of his cock, sucking him in entirely as you both moan at the feeling. To add fuel to the fire, Jack decides to unfold your legs and hoist them over his shoulders, the new angle burying him even deeper and bringing you closer to the edge. A huff of amusement sounds from Jack as he peers down at your parted lips, wasting no time in fucking you into the mattress as the bed creaks underneath the pressure. His earlier annoyance rears its head in his movements, unsettled irritation laced in the impact of his thrusts, your cunt leaking all around him as he pounds into you relentlessly. So close in proximity, Jack takes the opportunity to caress your cheek, a sweet gesture as your breath hitches, all before his hand slowly drifts down towards your neck. An affirmative nod from you is he needs to tighten his grip, your brewing orgasm intensifying tenfold as he maintains all the eye contact to make you shudder.

He’s balls deep in you, each hard thrust punctuated by the smack of the wooden headboard against the bedroom wall. You feel him all around you like some wicked embrace: in your stomach, your lungs and around your throat, the snug clasp his calloused hand holds against your pressure points lolling your mouth open, gasping at the sheer intensity stewing within you.

Jack takes the opportunity, wet curls stuck to his forehead, leaning closer as he spits directly into your mouth, as he does onto the ice throughout his games. Something twists violently in you, back arching off the bed as your lips fall close to moan from the deepest parts within you, the taste of Jack on your tongue.

“Taking me like such a good girl,” he praises, your reflection plentiful in his eyes. “If I’d known you liked this, would have done it a long time ago.”

Everything begins to blur at the edges like an old photograph, bliss engulfing you in its heavenly fire as your skin shimmers with sweat and your nails scrape at Jack’s shoulder - a futile attempt to regain control that had been long lost, your bodies movement forgotten as you squirm and shiver all over.

Oxygen courses back into your deprived lungs as Jack releases his grip, burning hand against your cheek as his thumb brushes your cheekbone, catching your fluttering eyelashes. “I got you, baby. Got you, princess.”

“Never been fucked,” a whimper escapes when Jack notches that spongy spot that buries your nails into his skin, “like this. Feels-fuck, good.”

He laughs lightly, pace stuttering yet hitting all the right places. “Love giving my pretty girl what she wants,”

You clench around him, embedding your nails into the flesh of his back as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, gaze scattered. “And my pretty girl wants to come, don’t you?”

He poses the rhetorical question with a mean pinch at your clit before pushing a heavy hand down on your lower stomach, the pressure accelerating you towards your fast-approaching orgasm. The sounds pour out of you like a waterfall, eyebrows furrowed as you plead with begging eyes. “Kiss me?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” he breathes, almost whiny as his hand circles around your nape, your figure floating as your lips collide in a messy embrace, rhythm unmatched as your yearning seeps through your teeth.

Jack captures all your moans in his mouth, the new angle of his thrusts adding to the sloppiness of your wet kiss. The smack of his stuttering hips knocks against your clit in a way that has you seeing beyond, swallowed whole by his galaxy of stars as he gives you one last jerky thrust, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to undo you. Frayed at the seams, you come undone, unravelling in a mess that perfectly matches Jack as he quickly comes after you, coating your walls as your cunt spasms all around him as he rides out his high.

Once Jack’s shallow thrusts grind to a halt, he slowly pulls out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with you as he runs a finger down your sensitive cunt just to get a shiver out of you. Your eyebrows knit, a flare of annoyance mixed in with fatigue written across your face that draws a humoured snicker from your boyfriend. He collapses down next to you, a kiss pressed against your cheek before you both aimlessly stare up at the ceiling.

Amusement tugs at the corners of your lips. “You should get angry more often.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.” agrees Jack, laughter making its home between you two as nothing but sweetness lingers in the air.

“Come on,” he urges, his hand nudging yours, body prying itself off your bed as he goes to stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #nhl smut #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #residenthughes

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haveyouseenthisromcom · 20 days

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Mod note: R.I.P. Ray Liotta, you legend.

#movies #polls #heartbreakers #sigourney weaver #jennifer love hewitt #david mirkin #crime #ended #result: unheard of

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sethsclearwater · 6 months

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I can’t stop thinking about how Paul would react if he was newly imprinted when there was a power cut on the rez in the winter and the heat is out so he almost shyly turns up at her apartment like ‘I can’t sleep knowing you’re probably shivering over here’ and they share a bed for the first time🤭

please🥺🥺

...

of course the heat had gone out in la push on the coldest day of the year. it wasn't totally unheard of but you had recently-ish moved to the res and that had meant you weren't exactly familiar with all the preparations you should've made to get through the night.

so this led you to your current predicament where you were currently buried under every blanket you could find with a movie on your laptop softly playing in the background so you could at least try and take your mind off the never-ending shivering that seemed to plague your body.

at around 11 at night you heard a soft knock on your door and scrunched your eyebrows together as you tried to figure out who on earth was visiting you at such a late hour in subfreezing temperatures.

once you decided it was worth leaving your blankets, you got up and pulled on a pair of fuzzy socks to match your atrocious outfit of one of your boyfriend's oversized sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that you'd had for forever now.

you peeked through the peep hole in your door only to realize you couldn't see anything thanks to the frost covering the small piece of glass. so, with a sigh, you pulled the door open to see none other than your imprinter, paul lahote, standing outside.

"oh my god paul-" you started, quickly taking his hand and tugging him inside and closing the door behind you in an attempt to get him out of the cold and save your apartment from the draft outside.

"hey princess," he started, kicking his shoes off and quickly wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a tight hug and pressed his lips the crown of your head, "didn't mean to come by so late, was just worried about you," he mumbled against your hair, gently running his hands up and down your back when he realized just how cold you were.

you and paul had been dating for just over a month now and he had revealed to you shortly after you made it official that he was a supernatural shapeshifter thanks to you witnessing a rather dumb argument between embry and jacob that had resulted in jacob phasing in front of you.

you had taken the whole thing rather well all things considered and were now extra grateful seeing as you were desperate for some warmth that paul was able to provide you.

"'s okay," you murmured against his sweatshirt, "i was up anyway," you added softly and paul let out a soft sigh, just pressing another kiss to your hair.

seeing as your relationship was rather new, you and paul had yet to spend the night at either person's apartment but that seemed like it was going to end very shortly with the power not looking like it was going to be turning on anytime soon.

"can you stay here for tonight?" you whispered, already knowing he'd hear you despite the fact that your words were most definitely a bit muffled with the way you had your face buried in his sweatshirt.

"was hoping you'd ask that," paul murmured against your hair, the ghost of a laugh leaving his lips which had you giggling softly as well, both of you happy to know you were on the same page.

you gave him one last squeeze before you squirmed out of his grasp so you could take his hand and pull him over to your bedroom. paul let out a breathy laugh when he saw how many blankets you had piled up on your bed.

he gently helped you back into bed before he pulled off his sweatshirt to get in with you, leaving him in just his favorite pair of sweatpants which had you a blushing mess.

despite the darkness in the room, paul was easily able to make out your blush but contained his laughter as he wrapped his arms around your shivering figure to pull you into his side, "there you go princess," he murmured as you curled further into him and rested your head on his chest, absolutely loving the fact that he was so warm.

after a few minutes of cuddling, your shivering began to subside a bit much to paul's delight, he was just happy to know you could finally relax a bit thanks to him.

"thank you," you whispered, peeking up at him only to see his features soften at your words, finally feeling a bit better about his decision to show up at your apartment unannounced late at night.

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before responding to you, "'s my job," he murmured and you let out a soft giggle at his response, wondering how on earth you got so lucky to have a man like him.

"still worth thanking you for," you responded and paul let out a breathy laugh, "can you still stay here tomorrow?" you asked after a moment, suddenly a bit concerned that he'd be unable to stick to your original plans thanks to him coming over now instead of tomorrow morning.

"assuming you don't kick me out before then, then yea, i'll be here as long as you want me," he teased and you giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his chest which had paul melting a bit inside.

"you're the best," you mused with a smile, curling further into his side as he tightened his grip around you, allowing you to get comfortable on him.

he gently ran his hand up and down your side as you settled down, listening to his heartbeat. after a minute or two of comfortable silence, he heard your breathing begin to even out and realized you had most definitely just fallen asleep on him.

he could barely contain his happiness over the fact that you felt so comfortable with him so easily but he settled for just pressing a gentle kiss to your hair before allowing his eyes to shut so he could also try and get some sleep.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote blurb #paul lahote fluff #twilight #the twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight blurb #imagine #blurb #fluff

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noneorother · 5 months

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The secret timeline inside of Good Omens season 2 revealed, *part1*

Part 1 l Part 2

If you’ve ever watched a ballet or an opera, you know how the rhythm in the music is used throughout to determine not only the movements of the dancers, but also when lines are sung or spoken. This is almost unheard of in television, but what if I told you it was hidden in season 2 of Good Omens? If one were to, say, meticulously cut together only the scenes set in the present day into one big timeline, you would get one long video that is exactly 2 hours 22 minutes 00 seconds and 00 frames long. An ineffable cut that is so perfect it defies all logic. (I’ve burnt a timecode into this ineffable edit to help pick up the rhythm.)

Even though there are large swathes of the second season with no music, there is a constant tempo weaving its way through the show: What if the seconds ticking by in the runtime itself was the music? Here’s an example of what I found. Behold a supercut of every single time Shax shows up, or Hell is mentioned in series 2 in the ineffable edit. They always arrive on a 6 in the time stamp (ex: 00:XX:X6).

(SOUND ON is an absolute must here, otherwise you won't hear any of the triggers)

Shax rings Crowley on a XX:X6. Shax miracles herself into the car on a XX:X6. Shax knocks on windows on a XX:X6. Shax’s big scary moment at the bookshop happens at 66 minutes exactly (lol). Crowley calls out for Shax on a XX:X6. Beelzebub starts spewing flies on a 6. People mention hell and it’s always on XX:X6 etc. etc…(Bonus: I also left in Maggie flipping the damned the double-bird on a XX:X6) I’ve also left in the only appearance of Shax or hell at all in the whole series that isn’t tied to a six: the park bench scene with Crowley. Shax seems to be off by one line, showing up on a XX:10, then back to XX:X6 on her second reply: “Bills, mostly”. I can only theorise that this scene, while technically in season 2, is not supposed to *be* in season 2 (even just judging by the trees, sun and the overcoats, it’s not summer like in the rest of the season). And it’s not only sixes! Every time I go through I find more and more little beats that line up exactly with ineffable timings. I can only do one video per post, so I’ll have to cut it up into sections, but Gabriel, doors, car horns, bird calls, Aziraphale, food, drinks, Angels, dialogue, Maggie, Nina, jokes, clocks, bells… The list goes on and on.

Neil called this season “The bridge”

Because we all know how much Neil loves double meanings and wordplay, I just have to ponder the idea that when Neil said this season was “the bridge” between seasons 1 and 3, he meant it double-literally. First, as in the bridge Aziraphale and Crowley have to cross in order to get them into position for the second coming. We even see the physical manifestation of this bridge leading everyone in the background of the opening credits. But this season is also a bridge in the sense that it’s a musical section that introduces new ideas or material in the middle of a song. This whole season is the music that deviates from the familiar, and re-contextualizes the chorus and the verses so we can appreciate them in a new way.

Let’s not forget that 2:22 is also exactly the same timing as this (and only this) track from the good omens s2 album (read all about the soundtrack here):

Why is this so bonkers? I think GOS2 might be the first ever “Total” series of television.

Having everything in the series timed and choreographed would actually make it a very faithful adaptation of the Powell & Pressburger film The Tales of Hoffmann (read about the movie and it’s effect on all of s2 here). If you watch the tales of Hoffman, you will realize that the entire film is actually done more like animation, with the music and vocals all performed in a studio, mixed and edited first, and then the actors came back to act out their choreographed and lip-synched parts for the cameras afterwards. The result is "Total film": a movie that feels more like a ballet, with every movement, action, and line happening in time with the music. As far as I can tell, very few films have ever attempted this, with The Tales of Hoffmann and Playtime being the only two “complete” films I could find in this style. (The Red shoes has one section, and An American In Paris has a few)

“Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (…) was in some way an admission(…) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered, (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made.” - Criterion review, Tales of Hoffmann

Here’s a simple example from An American in Paris

youtube

If season 2 *is* scripted and choreographed to line up with specific timings, I’m pretty sure that would make this the first ever “total” or “composed” season of television ever attempted. Not only does this take an ASTOUNDING amount of planning, scripting and editing finesse, not to mention a completely controlled set, it takes a real understanding of how to perform as an actor using rhythm and metre, which would go a long way to explain why all of the main actors coming back for season 2, with the exception of John Hamm, are well regarded theatre performers, (especially of Shakespeare).

I’ll leave you with one last surprise I found in the discovery of the ineffable edit: remember Aziraphale’s smile at the very end if the credits? It happens on 02:23:03, as the first step off the bridge, and into season 3.

I will have much more in the next ineffable timeline post. Stay tuned…

__________________________________________

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. It’s taken me a solid month to get this perfect. There are so many hidden cuts and jumps to take into account, and I had a frame rate issue that kept exporting to 29fps instead of 25fps, but I’ve finally nailed the ineffable timeline enough that I am confident sharing in it.

Credits to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable for all the support and help with editing and just general good vibes.

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #crowley x aziraphale #good omens spoilers #good omens analysis #good omens

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thesummerestsolstice · 2 months

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Peredhel biology is interesting. They can become mortal or immortal; and it's not entirely clear what the "default" setting is. Is it even the same for all half-elves? What are the implications of being part-elf and part-man? And that's not even getting into the part-Maiarin or pseudo-Maiarin(? Earendil?) Peredhel. There are a lot of really interesting ideas and interpretations there, but I'd like to share a few I've been wanting to write about:

The Peredhel choice is a myth; whether half-elves become mortal or immortal is baked into their biology. Because of the nature of twins, one will always be mortal and one will always be immortal. (I'm mostly thinking about the implications for Elrond and Elros here because I don't even want to consider what that would mean for Elladan and Elrohir)

Peredhel have the strange ability to "mimic" those around them; they appear more elvish amongst elves and more mannish amongst men. No one really knows how they do this, but it's led to lots of stories about "changelings."

Actually, lots of Peredhel have weird, vaguely mystical abilities. Think about the kind of things you'd read about in a fairytale- speaking to animals, unusual strength, preternatural charm. These things aren't unheard of amongst elves or men, but they're a lot more common amongst Peredhel. It's suspected to be some sort of Ainuric boon, or possibly a result of half-elven souls being more "flexible."

Because their souls are inherently kind of unstable, Peredhel fade more easily then elves. That being said, the "symptoms" of fading are different (elves will literally become translucent, while half-elves will lose weight, sleep for most of the day and still be tired, etc.), so it's often assumed to be a normal mortal illness until it becomes a life-threatening situation.

Ulmo has kind of adopted the Peredhel as his people. He's their patron, and he cares for them all. Many half-elves live or work near or on the ocean, and for those who are immortal, the desire to sail west generally manifests less as wanting to go to Valinor and more a literal desire to go to the sea. Half-elves who are inclined to pray usually do so to Ulmo. There's a reason that Rivendell is protected by a river. Also, yes, Earendil is still absolutely Ulmo's guy, he's just also Varda's guy. They have a very friendly custody agreement.

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #peredhel #eldritch peredhel #half elves #peredhel meta #elrond #elrond peredhel #elros #elladan #elrohir #earendil #ulmo #thoughts!#not sure which of these I want to write about first #hope they might inspire some other people too

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great-and-small · 8 months

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is the horses eat birds thing true? What are other weird things about horses we don’t know every fact I learn about them is weird

Like many other herbivores, horses are not as strict about the “only plants” thing as you might think. Though it’s exceedingly rare (but not unheard of) for horses to purposefully hunt and kill birds, they’re not above opportunistically munching on a little bird here and there if it gets in the way of grazing. Calories are calories!

There are so many weird things about horses. My favorites are going to be related to anatomy and physiology because equine medicine is crazy. Here are my top picks

- Horses (like rabbits) are obligate nasal breathers and cannot breathe through their mouth. This means a super congested nose can kill them, and nasal surgery on horses is really scary because post op swelling can become fatal if you’re not careful

- Horses have a callus thing about halfway up the leg called a chestnut or night eye (everything in horse anatomy has several weird names like that). This callus is believed to be a vestigial toe

-Horses have a structure called the guttural pouch that is basically paired sacs of air nestled inside the head likely to help with thermoregulation. Only problem is that pretty much every vital structure in the head (veins, arteries, nerves) pass through these sacs, so if something like a fungal infection gets in there it can cause huge problems very quickly

- Every vet student hates the word laminitis. This is a condition involving inflammation of the inner parts of the hoof and if it gets bad enough the hoof actually starts to detach from the bone. Laminitis can be caused by everything from retained placenta to eating particularly lush grass. That’s right- if you allow your horse to feast on a pasture too green, it’s feet might start falling apart 🙃

Despite their rep as horribly designed animals I actually love horses and find their physiology fascinating. Any animal that has evolved to do one specific thing really, really well (in their case running) will have some little quirks of their biology as a result.

#asks #horses #predation #vetblr

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espion7971 · 25 days

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IceWing tribe sheet!

icewings actually happen to be my favorite tribe, they're a little messed up but i love them. enjoy my headcanons!

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-IceWings live in the cold and barren arctic north, and have developed very specific adaptations in order to survive. Rather than being warm-blooded and keeping themselves insulated, they kept their reptillian cold blood and slowly adapted to a consistently cold internal body temperature. As a result, they require no warmth at all for their bodies to function; they do not insulate themselves with fur or fat like mammals do.

-Their scales are pale, usually with a bluish tint although other colors are not unheard of. When well taken care of, they gleam and sparkle like ice.

-They are naturally cold to the touch, giving off a chill to anyone close by. In warm environments, especially humid ones, the cold will sometimes cause moisture from the air to condense on their scales, letting drops of water settle on them and drip from them. This, at first glance, can sometimes look like they’re “melting”, and has made some believe that IceWings are literally made from ice, and they can melt in the heat. (This is another headcanon that didn’t originate with me, it comes from @flamebringer0. If you see this, I adore your headcanon, I hope you don’t mind me including it among with mine!)

-Sharp spikes bristle their necks and run along their spines and tails. This can make it difficult for other tribes to gain the upper hand in fights without being wounded by the spines. They can also use their tail as an effective weapon.

-They can summon a storm of tiny shards and crystals from the ice that tends to coat their throat and produce frostbreath, which can quickly deliver frostbite to any dragons who aren’t well adapted to cold.

-Icewing horns are sometimes straight, resembling icicles, sometimes jagged, and sometimes branch off into something more antler-adjacent. They are always sharp, but just slightly more fragile than other horns.

-Some IceWing scales tend to get a bit darker and more silvery as they age, and likewise they tend to hatch with bright, snowy-white coloration. Some will have speckled patterns and general variability between colors across their bodies.

-Their dark eyes help absorb light and allow them to see past the bright glare of sun on ice.

-Their bodies are long, slender and elegant, especially among royals. Their faces are long and pointed, and they are more agile and maneuverable than most tribes expect. They are generally smaller than SkyWings but taller than MudWings.

-Their serrated claws help grip ice, and make their attacks more punishing. They have a sharp and sturdy point on the end of their snout, which can be used to crack ice without harming them.

-They are not a very physically varied tribe, but the royal and noble IceWings have a look distinct from those on outskirt villages. They often have fewer spines, straighter horns, narrower wings and paler colors, whereas lower-ranking IceWings have more practical antler-like horns, more spines, and a more muscular appearance. (Sketch displaying this below.)

Life Cycle:

-IceWings are hatched in small clutches of one to three. Parents will carve out a nest in the ice, lay the eggs, and then allow them to freeze over again until the dragonets break through the ice. It is believed that the colder the eggs during incubation, the more powerful the dragonets will become.

-They take around 5 months to develop and are hatched strong enough to free themselves and big enough that most predators aren’t interested in them. They are also hatched with a delicate layer of spines all across their bodies that resemble frost crystals, though these later shed off. Dragonets can also go several days without eating after hatching, which is unusual for dragons.

-Most parents are available to watch their dragonets, so these abilities simply serve as precautions for the case of missing or neglectful parents.

-They grow somewhat slowly, reaching maturity a bit later than other tribes.

-IceWings, especially those of high rank, are expected to be strictly monogamous, and their marriages are usually more of a formality than a real union of affection. They aren’t incapable of love, certainly, but marriage is not treated as an act of love among nobles and royalty. Sometimes even lower-status IceWings marry out of societal expectation and not for their own happiness, but things are generally less strict.

Society + Culture:

-IceWing society is strictly ranked by class and birthright. There are seven divisions, referred to as Circles; the Seventh Circle is made up of dragons of low status, living in small villages on the outskirts of the tribe and scorned by those in higher Circles. The First Circle, meanwhile, is almost entirely comprised of royalty and other dragons of high honor and status. In the palace, dragons are expected to greet and interact with others differently depending on their relative ranking. The system is extremely strict and ruthless, and disrespect is one quick way to be lowered down the ladder. During her reign, Queen Snowfall tore down the wall used to keep track of the placement of each dragon, and made great steps toward lessening this aspect of their culture, but it continued to subtly persist long after her death.

-Lower-circle IceWing society is simple and straightforward. They live in communities quite detached from palace life, hunting for themselves and helping each other raise their dragonets. As all IceWing animus dragons were strategically kept in royalty, most animus gifts did little to improve the lives of those outside the First and Second Circles. The best way for a low-born IceWing to rise in rank would be through military work; otherwise, the groups remain fairly stagnant. Protests and revolts, though, are surprisingly uncommon. Most Sixth and Seventh Circle IceWings are simply too detached from royalty to be concerned with wealth differences, and royals likewise rarely bother to interfere with Sixth and Seventh circle dragons.

-While in the palace, during the worst of the class division, all dragons were commanded to wear necklaces made from a heavy metal that matched their rank. First-Circle necklaces would consist of one ring, Second-Circle necklaces would have two, one inside of the other, and so on. The more circles, the heavier the necklace, and Seventh-Circle dragons, on the rare occasion they visited the palace, would be forced into a constant bow by the weight of the metal.

-IceWings are quite superstitious, not unlike SkyWings. Their beliefs vary by region, but a generally common one is that the deep, impenetrable ice cap they live on harbors some ancient, powerful force, and that if it ever were to break or melt away, that power would be unleashed and cause havoc; they see the ice as a protective field that froze over at the dawn of time, and if it unfroze it would be the end of everything they know.

-IceWings will sometimes wear polar bear fur or the pelts of elk and deer, though not for warmth. Lower-Circle dragons will wear the pelts and sometimes even antlers of their own prey, for bragging rights. Higher-Circle dragons simply wear them as a fashion statement and a show of wealth.

-IceWings are educated much more about their own tribe than others, and generally prefer to stick to their own affairs. They have few exports to trade and little interest in those of others. They are not the most diplomatic tribe.

-After the perceived theft of their last animus, they not only blamed NightWings, but also harbored resentment for every other tribe with animus magic, believing themselves to be the original carrier of the gene and therefore the rightful possessor of it. They are extremely protective of even the least useful of their animus gifts.

Diet: Carnivorous. IceWings eat arctic mammals like elk and polar bears, and aquatic mammals like seals and even sometimes narwhals and orcas. They also eat fish and, rarely, a few species of birds. They have no way to cook food and no desire to. Other than a few types of berries in the mountains near the SkyWing border, no plants grow in the arctic, and IceWings live on meat alone.

#wings of fire #wof headcanons #icewings #art #my posts

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