#you're a clever director

[flum3n]

the universal experience of beginning 'pride and prejudice' (2005) with the opinion that matthew macfadyen as mr darcy is perfectly tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you and ending it bewitched, body and soul.

#we get both the mr darcy love at first sight of keira knightley as elizabeth bennet #and the slow burn of elizabeth's feelings for matthew macfadyen #this is from watching several gorls react to it on youtube #and my own feelings of eh he's not bad looking to THERE HAS NEVER BEEN A MORE PERFECT MAN- #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005 #jane austen #mr darcy #fitzwilliam darcy #joe wright #you're a clever director #matthew macfadyen #classics #classic literature #english literature #austen shitpost #not poetry

[luciddownloading]

The 5th House and Star Power/Quality ✨

The sign on your 5th House cusp and/or planet(s) in your 5th shows how you shine. Bright like a diamond! It's the key to finding not only your talent but your star power, your It Factor. If you were a celebrity, it would be what people praise you the most for. But, everyone gets the most hype for their 5th House energies. So, be your own talent agent and take advantage of them!

Life hack for creatives and performers out there: your 5th House shows you "your lane" as an artist. Not your 10th House. It's the direction you should go in creatively if you feel like you're struggling to successfully carve out your niche or attract recognition. You will gain the biggest following by emphasizing it.

SUN IN THE 5TH and/or LEO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Lucky you! You seemingly just have to be you to gain an adoring following. People love how authentic you are, how you're not trying to be anyone other than you. This is "movie star" type energy. The kind of performer who is constantly "playing themselves" but is so charming and magnetic that nobody minds. You have Stage Presence. You could just stand around, doing nothing, and people want to watch. So, remember that you never have to try hard. You're just naturally entertaining and charismatic. Don't be afraid to play the role of the star, either! Admit it. You enjoy the attention. And others enjoy giving it to you! Your confidence plays a big role in this (whether it's natural or you're faking it til you're making it), creating this golden aura of greatness around you. You could turn the grocery store into a Red Carpet event just by walking in.

MOON IN THE 5TH and/or CANCER ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

No matter your age, you remain the girl or boy next door. Your star quality is cute, comforting, safe. Wholesome vibes. This is the actor who does a dozen rom-coms or tearjerkers that are like a fuzzy blanket on a rainy day. You gain the most applause via your vulnerability. In spite of what you may fear, shedding a few tears or having a cathartic meltdown only earns you admiration, not ridicule. Sensitivity allows you to shine! You might have a very charismatic mother figure that you clearly get your greatness from. Or, if/when you have children, they could look up to you as the brightest light in their life. Your whole immediate family may be very talented or entertaining and you're most in your element when around them.

MERCURY IN THE 5TH and/or GEMINI ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Hello, Jack/Jill of all Trades! People will be enthralled by just how multi-talented you are. Double/triple/quadruple threats! It may even exhaust others a bit and even if you're not exactly mastering all those interests, you still make it fascinating to watch. But, let's be clear: writing is your bread and butter, whether it's screenwriting, prose, poetry, or blogging. You are a top-tier storyteller, even in person, and will probably gain the most attention for your writing. Your star quality stems from that witty, smart, cheeky, clever voice you have. When you have something to say, people listen! And it usually takes them in an unpredictable direction. Your duality is also the key to your charisma, as you are an entertaining bundle of opposites that others can't truly figure out.

VENUS IN THE 5TH and/or TAURUS/LIBRA ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Okay, let's be honest. Your attractiveness keeps people in the palm of your hand. Most of your audience is so entertained by you because they think you're such a babe. Also, that you're just such a sweetheart! This would be the kind of actor whose characters you always root for because they're so damn likable. But, before you see your star power as superficial (as you may sometimes complain about not being taken seriously enough), you have some serious artistic prowess. It's largely visual. You'd make a fabulous director, painter or photographer because your aesthetic and eye for beauty leaves others wanting more. (You might even just be the best at curating your social media) PS: You are either the ultimate muse, constantly inspiring others' art or other notable efforts, or you tap into your light by making a special someone your muse.

MARS IN THE 5TH and/or ARIES ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Do you hear that? It's the sound of your fans salivating over you! Your star power makes you hot as a summer day and it's not necessarily about how you look. You just have this sexual charisma to you. It's giving sexy rock star, with all the panties or boxer-briefs thrown on stage to prove it. So, if you were to be a performer, that would be your lane. Or possibly a rapper (depending on your skills/interests, obviously). Anything that lets you be wild, raw, hard-hitting. Regardless of your talents, you shine brightly when being daring and living on the edge. This also makes for extreme-sports enthusiasts and excellent athletes, the latter of which can lead to a killer bod. Which will definitely gain you much attention. Tbh, there are some himbo/bimbo vibes here but in the most empowered way. Like, "yes, I will wear little to no clothes because I know people love it and it's my power move."

JUPITER IN THE 5TH and/or SAGITTARIUS ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Listen, you're not just talented. You have serious Chosen One energy. Whatever you are good at, it's blatantly obvious that you were put on Earth to do it. You live out your path like a God-given mission and it leaves people kind of in awe. If you're an artist (and there's a good 83.5 percent chance you are, with this placement), you are capable of either becoming a larger-than-life force in your creative field or gain a passionate cult following that is convinced you're terribly underrated (even though you're quite popular) and no one gets your work like they do. In the midst of it all, your sense of fun and humor remain, never taking yourself too seriously. You shine bright by being funny, colorful, a little bit extra and uncensored. Blunt, on-the-edge statements that others would be crucified for are mostly seen as entertaining and refreshing coming from you.

SATURN IN THE 5TH and/or CAPRICORN ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

This is definitely the girlboss position, even for the boys with this placement, lol, because you know how to be in-charge in a way that others find exciting and engaging. Like, "Yes, I want to get that bread, too!" But, few people can actually match your work ethic or authority, which could stem from a father figure who you worship and adore and make you a very commanding figure. It's funny but the more intimidating you are, the more you shine. Or should I say the brighter you shine, the more that light intimidates others? Most of you with this placement embrace it, seeing the perks of being feared. Popular people often are! You might not get the credit for your actual talent that you deserve, especially if you're an artist. People may think your greatness is a matter of image or focus more on how you hustled to the top. It may not be until you're a bit older that people start seeing your actual substance.

URANUS IN THE 5TH and/or AQUARIUS ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

You are most charismatic or entertaining when you're not trying to be. The nerdy, weird, or chaotic parts of yourself that you may cringe at or think nothing of are actually what gain you the most praise. You might be like that celebrity who acts like they're not famous or doesn't understand why they are. But, as time goes on, you learn to just go with it! Similar to Jupiter/Sagittarius in the 5th, your creative talents can be truly iconic. But, there's like an "artistic genius" or "young prodigy" vibe here. You might completely stumble into a skill and shock everyone, especially yourself, with what a natural you are. You also shine by defying certain gender roles, impressing others as a sensitive or beauty-loving guy or a tomboyish or aggressive lady.

NEPTUNE IN THE 5TH and/or PISCES ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Your star power stems from the entire worlds and dimensions you can create. Obviously, this is a particularly artsy, imaginative placement. But, a role as a fantasy/sci-fi writer, especially, could lead to lots of praise. Few would excel at intricate world-building or provide glorious escapism like you. Whatever you do creatively, your special magic shines through. A chameleon type presence is also evident, like the type of actor who can easily "disappear" into roles. Even in regular life, people are most entertained by your disappearing acts. You might be very quiet and internal, even in a room full of people, intriguingly fading into the background. Or you could just be evasive, like a spirit that quickly vanishes and whose absence haunts you. Regardless, it's your softness, your mystery, your fantasy life that enthralls people. Bonus points if you have a particular alter ego you constantly assume.

PLUTO IN THE 5TH and/or SCORPIO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

You entertain folks best when your highs and lows are on full display. People want to see the drama with you, the "sturm und drang", the tears and the ecstasy. A creative outlet is actually quite recommended for most of you with this influence. Those emotional extremes you're capable of draw your audience in the most, whether it's through introspective poetry or soul-baring music or the kind of raw character work that is worthy of Best Actor or Actress. The deeper you go, the more you shine. And while that may be scary, you embrace that fear and enjoy conquering it. But, there are limits to this intimacy, as you can be equally guarded in a way that ironically gains you more fans. It's that "leave them wanting more" star quality, a kind of Greta Garbo mystique. Even when you tell people you want to be alone, it doesn't stop them from trying harder to get into your business. The dilemma of such a private star!

CHIRON IN THE 5TH and/or VIRGO ON THE 5TH HOUSE CUSP

Feeling particularly neurotic? Like you're not good enough and like you have no clue how to do what you're supposedly talented at? This is the struggle of many creatives. But, for you, this insecurity is actually the essence of your star quality. You are the underdog that everyone roots for. Your fans might find it especially endearing or rather heartbreaking that you don't see your greatness. But, it creates this narrative around you where others want to invest in your endless journey to prove yourself. One secret you may keep, even from yourself, is that a part of you knows you're good. But, you're afraid to admit it because you think it'll jinx you. Or you think you have to squash any potential ego and remain impeccably humble. Allow yourself the occasional private "I'm feeling myself" moment. No one else will know!

Thank you for attending my Hype Session. Keep shining, babes.

#astrology #astro notes #the 5th house #5th house in astrology #sun in the 5th house #moon in the 5th house #mercury in the 5th house #venus in the 5th house #mars in the 5th house #jupiter in the 5th house #saturn in the 5th house #uranus in the 5th house #neptune in the 5th house #pluto in the 5th house #chiron in the 5th house #star power #star quality

[octuscle]

Old

When you're skinny and weak, it's no fun being young. Richard wasn't even particularly clever or funny or charismatic. Richhard was just a lop! No longer being 18. No longer being mistaken for 16. No longer being bullied… Richard wanted nothing more! Regularly attending a gym seemed the logical consequence. Train hard. That must lead to muscles. And tougher facial features. And more respect from others…. But the first few visits to the gym were more than demoralizing. The other guys here were so much bigger than him. He looked ridiculous in his cheap clothes from school sports. Richard moved his work outs to the early mornings or late evenings when he was almost alone. At some point he was asked if he would like to earn a few extra dollars. Soon, when he trained in the evening, Richard would lock up the gym after his workout, clean up, mop the floor and get everything ready for the next morning. This had many advantages. He had money for better clothes and even got an employee discount at the gym store. And he could train completely alone and undisturbed after the official end of business.

That had an effect. Slowly. Far too slowly. After six months, perhaps no one was laughing at Richrad anymore. But no one showed him any respect from the members or colleagues who occasionally crossed his path despite his training and working hours.

Richard had already heard about this Chronivac. It was used to support particularly solvent customers with their transformations. The device had to be in the managing director's office. But it was always locked there. There was no chance of getting to the device. Until this one evening. The evening when Richard walked through the corridors with the mop. And the door to the office was open. Wide open. And this device was lying on the desk. Obviously on. The display bathed the office in a very faint blue light.

"Scanning the client" was written on the display… It looked like a normal smartphone app. Richard pressed "okay" and a monitor appeared. Richard held the device in front of his face. There was no button like on a camera. But after a few moments there was an acoustic signal and the message "Number of virtual training units" appeared on the display. Damn, what was that supposed to mean? Was the device simulating training sessions? Richard trained three times a week. 12 times a month. 144 times a year. It would be cool to be four years older. 22 years old. A college jock who had been training hard for four years. Richard did a quick mental calculation. That was about… He heard footsteps. Shit! 500 had to be about right. He typed in 600 and pressed enter. And carefully put the device back on the desk. Hopefully that had worked. He took the mop and ran to the showers. And while he was mopping the floor, Nick, the manager, came in. He greeted Richard and asked if everything was OK. It was already late and Richard should leave. All right, Richard replied. The message "Transformation started. Perform 500 monthly training cycles. Transformation within the next eight hours."

As he has done for almost 42 years, Rick was one of the first to enter the gym. He had been a member longer than any other guy pumping here. Longer than anyone who worked here. Rick was simply part of the inventory. He was the janitor, the manager, the go-to guy here. And a role model for every man who trained here. Yes, Rick had never become one of the musclemen who also trained here. But he had also always been clean. Never cheated. And a body that still worked like a well-oiled machine despite his almost 60 years of life was his thanks. Yes, his beard and hair were gray. But he still had the body of a 30-year-old athlete. And with that, he had honestly earned the respect of everyone here.

Inspiration by @workinprogress1986

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #age progression #ai image

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 8th

Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds. 

You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived. 

When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in. 

Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner. 

His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?

Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to. 

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone. 

“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously. 

“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.” 

You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate. 

“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously. 

“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face. 

Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”

“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!” 

Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass. 

The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life. 

“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning. 

“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you. 

You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt. 

He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes. 

You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him. 

His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up  your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down. 

It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits. 

Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth. 

Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between. 

Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust. 

He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are. 

Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. 

Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.” 

You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy. 

Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before. 

“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top. 

Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab. 

“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.” 

Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?” 

“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.” 

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord fanfiction #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord x f!reader #max lord smut #max lord imagine #max lord fanfiction #max lord ww84

[avvocarlo]

oh you mentioned the movie salo? from the italian director pier pasolini? that's crazy man. you must like some messed up crap lol. oh you're laughing because I said crap ahaaha? yeah I don't get it you're so esoteric and kinda low-key clever af. anyway do you actually like the movie or want people to know you know it? happy birthday and all the best

[crazed-rambler]

This episode was absolute perfection! The writers are geniuses, the actors are geniuses, the directors, camera people, lighting, editors, everyone who worked on this episode are all geniuses and they deserve a MASSIVE round of applause.

There's so much to talk about but I wanna start by talking about the staging of the scenes where Buck is feeling jealous, because ugh it was so well done.

It's so simple but they just isolated him. And it's not that noticeable in some of the smaller scenes but I know many people noticed it with the teaser and stills at the airfield. It became obvious to me after Eddie gets injured, but here are some examples:

In all these scenes Buck is obviously in his feels (but when wasn't he tbf) and he's stood by himself, opposite to everyone else.

I found this really clever, because yeah, Buck does express that he feels like he's being left behind, but he's done that before so what's new? What's new is the very confusing feelings of romantic jealousy being thrown in the mix. But romantic jealousy over a MAN. This has never happened before.

Finding out you're queer can be so scary and isolating because your entire view of yourself is changing and if that's changing how are you supposed to be yourself around others who've only known you as heterosexual up until this point? Add in the fact that Buck is somewhat oblivious to why he is acting the way he is towards Eddie (his bestfriend who's done nothing wrong) for a time and he's going to feel even more isolated. It gets to a point where he's lashing out because he doesn't know why he's feeling like this. And even when he's hurt Eddie he doesn't even ATTEMPT to move towards him, he's just stuck where he is.

By isolating Buck at all these moments, both the initial problem that sparks the jealousy and Buck's subsequent internal struggle are portrayed to the audience in a such a simple way. Doing this allows the audience to truly understand what's happening. Queer audiences will recognise themselves in Buck's isolation and heterosexual audiences will gain a further understanding of how troubling a queer realisation can be, allowing them to empathise more.

Even when Tommy comes to the loft Buck still starts out isolated:

They move to either side of the kitchen and put two (2) tables in between themselves. Then as they work through their issues and Buck starts to realise just WHY he's been so standoffish about Eddie and Tommy hanging out they get closer. Then they start to connect over how cool they thought the other was and how annoying that was and end up toe to toe:

Buck's finally accepting what he's feeling and then BAM! They kiss and everyone screams with joy!

I don't know, l just loved all the little nuances they put into this episode that were subtle indicators of their endgame (bi Buck), and it made it feel like the creators really cared about this storyline and wanted to do it properly for the fans but more importantly for THEMSELVES, and not just randomly giving Buck a throwaway line of 'yeah I've slept with guys before' to establish his bisexuality purely for fan appeasement. So, to that I want to say a massive THANK YOU to everyone involved with creating this episode because I was sobbing for 10 minutes straight after it aired from being handed bisexual representation in such a loving but also unfussy way and seeing myself reflected in my favourite character. So on the off chance someone involved does see this, THANK YOU!

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 7x04 #evan buckley #118 firefam #tommy kinard #bi buck #911 100th episode #buck bothered and bewildered #eddie diaz #chimney han #buddie #bisexual evan buckley #evan buck buckely #bucktommy

[prolix-yuy]

Reflective

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader

Summary: His management style is effective AND refreshing. And as his executive assistant, you're partially to thank. But as your professional relationship blurs, are you getting too close to the middle manager monster of nightmares?

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, horror elements and themes, graphic descriptions of blood including drinking, background character un-death, violence, fingering (f-receiving), vomiting (not descriptive), descriptions of a panic attack, a dabble of sleazy coworkers, playing fast and loose with vampire lore.

Notes: Heeeeeeere's LJ! I'm back from my October hiatus just in time for a Halloween fic! Thank you again to @harriedandharassed for the prompt "How does Max Phillips handle not being able to see himself in the mirror?" I was grasping at something to write for Halloween and this prompt came at the perfect time.

This story will include horror elements such as violence, descriptions of blood and some graphic scenes. If that's not your cup of tea, scroll on friend! It was fun to go back to some of my horror writing roots, especially mixing it with the dry comedy of Bloodsucking Bastards. It's Max season babes, and I could not resist writing for this smarmy boy.

There is a part 2, which will post tomorrow. The Discord besties made an excellent suggestion right after I finished the story, and it was so good I needed an addendum. So without further ado, enjoy lovelies and Happy Halloween!

Cross-posted on AO3

If anyone asked Max Phillips what the worst part about becoming a vampire is, he’d probably tell them things like “not getting a tan” or “swearing off Italian food” or “always getting complaints about cold feet”. The last one was often followed by a lewd comment to get a pretty young thing in bed with him to prove it. It’s all farce, of course, clever little quips you’re sure he practiced just like you’d rehearse for a job interview. It gives you a funny little trill when you catch one of those lines again, because you know the truth.

He hates that he can’t see himself in mirrors.

Being Max’s executive assistant, you’re trusted with more than some of your colleagues. Well, that’s debatable, you’ve heard horror stories. But your friend Carla’s stories about her boss’ wife choosing his Peloton instructors for minimum hotness pales in comparison to your early morning runs to blood banks and private contracts with hospital cleanup crews. Max might not be a centuries old vampire, but he’s planning on getting there. You can’t live several lifetimes with a messy trail anymore.

Enter you.

The job listing had been normal enough: Executive assistant. Five years experience. Good references. Not squeamish. Discreet. It was the last three words that piqued your interest the most. You wouldn’t call yourself delicate, at least not for the things Max needed you to do. Your stomach turned when men wanted to stay the night, or your parents begged you to come home for Thanksgiving. Not so much when you had to bag a severed hand. 

When it came to the interview you almost walked straight back out of his office before saying a word. The moment you saw him you knew his type. Arrogant, self-centered, prideful, smooth with a customer and cruel in the next breath if you were in his way. You’d seen too many people like him, avoided working with them at all cost. He was young enough that boomer sexism probably wouldn’t be an issue, but you could smell the demand coming off of him. He’d be a yeller, a paperweight thrower, or worse require you to be on call 24/7. You clocked him in a glance and felt the claw of escape behind your ribcage.

And then Max Phillips did something that convinced you to reconsider just as quickly. He stood from his desk, ushered you in, looked you and your resume over for a moment, and spoke.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Max Phillips, Director of Sales, and I’m a vampire.”

The quick introduction, complete with another curious word at the end, made you bark out a laugh.

“What kind are we talking about? Emotionally, mentally…” you rattle off, tight posture relaxing just a fraction. If he was joking with you, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Oh you know, the usual kind. With the blood,” he says nonchalantly, baring his teeth dramatically when your eyebrows raise. 

“You don’t say.”

“I do, actually. And you want to be my assistant.”

The conversation flows, with some fits and starts as you realize he’s not kidding. He is indeed a vampire, tossed out like his zodiac sign. The questions he peppers off range from highly professional (tell me a time when you performed well under pressure) to unsettlingly irregular (do you know how to remove blood stains from silk?). You shoot the answers back just as quickly, waiting for the moment when either the charade will drop…or you’ll get the job. Because you want it now. It’s easily the most interesting thing you’ll do in your whole life. 

“I think that’s all I need,” Max ends abruptly, shuffling your resume into a pile with some others. Panic grips you, and you rush into your next sentence without breathing.

“Are there any concerns you have about my qualifications?” 

Max raises an eyebrow and smiles, one that is much too charming to be in its path too long. Casting your eyes down, you glance at the worn-out toes of your nice interview heels, bemoaning getting them out of the closet for another failed interview.

“On paper you’re perfect,” Max says, and being in the same sentence as perfect skitters up your spine for a moment. You bat it away peevishly. “I only worry that you don’t have the constitution for what I’m looking for.” You shift on your feet, pull one corner of your lip between your teeth while you think. It makes you miss Max’s too-long glance at your mouth.

“I’ve watched all of the Saw movies,” you finally say, meeting Max’s eyes with determination. It makes him bleat out a laugh. 

“Okay, not squeamish. Those are movies, though, and this is the real deal,” he teases. “Favorite vampire movie?”

“Let the Right One In,” you answer quickly, your face scrunching with regret seconds after. “Or Only Lovers Left Alive. I watched Queen of the Damned three times at a sleepover once. Have you ever seen Vampire’s Kiss? The one with Nic…” Max’s chuckle lets you trail off into silence.

“And you didn’t even say Twilight.”

You were signing employment paperwork the next day.

Most executive assistants put up with a certain layer of bullshit on a daily basis. Booking flights, picking up paperwork, schedule maintenance. You’d stood in line for four hours to pick up a previous employer’s new iPhone once. 

Max had very different needs. 

You were briefed on your duties in the privacy of his office. While he did reveal to you how many of his sales force were turned by his hand (or fang, you thought with a giggle), discretion was still a priority. He needed someone to go to his blood bank hookup a few times a week, take care of daytime activities when the sun beat down too hard. Body disposal on very rare occasions (so far only the one time) among all of the normal activities you thought you were signing up for. 

The one duty that gave you pause, made you tap your nail on the printed line, was close to the bottom of your orientation packet.

“You need me to ‘maintain your appearance’?” you asked, looking up at Max from across the shiny acrylic tabletop. He was lounging back in his chair, knee pressed against the edge of the desk and spread out with boredom. He rolled his head to his shoulder as you flipped the page around to show him.

“Oh that. Yeah, I need you to check me over, make sure everything looks sharp, especially if I’m going to a big meeting.” You quirked a brow at him.

“Can’t you just look in…a…oh,” you said, slowing to a molasses vowel by the end. 

“Yeah, mirrors and I haven’t been on speaking terms since Romania,” he sighed, one heavy thumb tracing the crest of his full lower lip. You tried not to notice the subconscious stroke. 

“So you need me to…be your mirror. Make sure your hair isn’t a mess and you don’t have spinach in your teeth.” You were rewarded with a sheepish nod from Max. “Huh.”

“Huh what?”

“What else is true about vampires? Or fake, I’ll take either,” you asked, crossing your legs and settling into the wildly uncomfortable modern chair. Max’s smile turned secretive, and that was the first moment you felt him brand you his confidant.

“The sunlight thing is a bummer. I miss the beach, and swimming in the ocean. Garlic just makes my mouth go numb. Inviting someone into your home has a lot more loopholes than you think. And the sign of the cross does jack shit.” You nodded, making a mental list of even more questions to pepper into everyday conversation.

“Why do you think that all is? Because you’re essentially…undead?” you prodded, getting another bark of a laugh from Max and a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hey, undead is a little harsh. It’s more like…a virulent vitamin deficiency. If I don’t get what I need, everything starts to shut down.” Max pondered on this analogy for a long moment, looking at a dull mass-produced corporate painting. 

“But all the superstitions…like why are those true?”

Max shrugged, running his thumb along the inseam of his dress slacks in a way that pulled your eyes to his thick thighs.

“It’s not like there’s a manual for this. Half the stuff is supposed to be because I ‘have no soul’,” Max made finger quotes as he says this. “But mirrors stopped being silver backed ages ago and I still have to be careful when I go into the men’s room.” He shrugged, taking an exaggerated sip from his iced coffee straw. “I just know what works and what doesn’t, and you just need to help with those gaps, pretty girl.”

You almost choke on your tongue, shooting Max a warning look. He raises his hands in deference, but keeps a raised brow.

"Sorry, I call it like I see it. Can't have someone with poor taste in charge of my appearance."

"Yeah and if you don't want to walk in to a meeting with HQ with a Kick Me post-it on your back, you'll be mindful of that mouth of yours."

The crinkles around Max's eyes deepen, something knowing passing by, but he nods in acquiescence.

It’s honestly not as bad as you thought it might be. You could even call it boring. Max thankfully isn’t a paperweight thrower, though he does speak to most of his subordinates like they’re idiots. Never you, thankfully, he’s all smiles and winks and traded comments during your daily interactions. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Routine is your master, and you follow its pattern to the letter. It’s what makes you a great assistant. First thing in the morning is Max’s coffee order, set on his desk atop a coaster you provided when you saw the coffee cup stains. He whirls in, all noise and breeze, and you help him get ready for his morning meetings. A straightened tie - you can practically knot one blindfolded now - a quick sweep of fingers through his short hair, a pantomimed smile so he shows you his teeth. It’s all utilitarian, fast, not thrilling or intimate in a way you’d rarely been with a man. Of course not. That would be…unprofessional.

Lunch involves a teakettle, a blood bag, and a deep bowl that you use to warm his meal. All done in the safety and privacy of the kitchenette in his office. You pour the contents - a balmy 98.6 degrees by the time you’re finished - into a silver to-go cup, which he takes with appreciation when he bursts in. The first few weeks you left right after, but once you were more settled he asked you to stay while he sipped on his “lunch”. The conversation was always interesting, if not a little one-sided.

“You really don’t want to eat like, a salad or something? It’s just O-Positive Capri Suns for the rest of your life?” you asked, stabbing at some lettuce in your tupperware. Max laughed, a braying short one, and put his chin in his hand.

“You can technically eat cardboard and not be hungry, but it’s not food, pretty girl,” he replied, a shit-eating grin stretched across his broad face. You'd scolded him enough about the nickname that it's almost a joke now, except for how those words made you feel. His lips were a deeper red, and the sight plucked at something forbidden in your chest. Not disgust, more like morbid fascination. The sight pulled something primal to the surface, his tongue several shades darker when he licked an errant drop back into the lush cavern of his mouth. 

You are not allowed to be lusting after your vampire boss is your mantra when thoughts run rampant.

The afternoons tend to be boring, filled with schedule juggling or email management. Max is often occupied through to the end of day, so you’re left to your own devices. You have a lot of “guys” now, as Max calls them. A blood guy, a disposal guy, a law enforcement guy. It makes you feel important in a way other jobs have lacked. You spend your afternoons making arrangements, both professional and personal, for your boss. It’s when you get the bulk of your work done, but it’s also when you have to be most on guard. 

You see, Max has a few other “hungry” employees, and as the day grows long they tend to saunter by and watch you with barely veiled appetites. Brad in sales is the boldest, leaning over your desk and making a show out of smelling you with half-lidded eyes. Creepy. You’d told him off several times, but as he likes to say with just the right amount of douche, “I’m a closer baby, I always get the deal.”

In the metaphor you’re not sure what part of the “deal” you are, but you have no intention of finding out. Enough polite excuses and faked phone calls have kept him at bay, but you worry what might happen if he gets bolder, or gathers a few more vamps to sway your opinion. Is there a clause in your contract about not getting turned into a creature of the night? You should have checked.

The end of the day is often a quick affair. Max gets a debrief of anything important that came up, and what’s on the docket for tomorrow. Normally he packs up his suitcase with a little small talk, bids you a good night, and is off to do…whatever a vampire does when he’s off work. 

Today, however, the script has a few additions.

“What’s wrong?” Max says, movements slowing as he takes in your shaking hand placing an itinerary on his desk. You tighten, smile forced.

“Nothing! Just fine,” you spit out, which only increases Max’s suspicion.

“Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?” he asks, voice dropping to a low fuck-that’s-hot register. You swallow hard and will something, anything to come to mind.

“Just Brad being Brad. I don’t think he’s turned anyone in a while and he’s getting desperate,” you try to chuckle lightly, but Max’s eyes darken. He stands to his full height, shoulders straining against his jacket. Planting his hands on his hips, he pins you in his sight.

“Did he touch you?” This is a true growl now, and Max’s face changes into a terrifying mask, perfect teeth suddenly lengthening to points as he fights against the rush. Your mouth drops open, but only monosyllabic words come out.

“No. Safe,” you gasp, and the simple admission sobers Max. His jaw ticks, rolling his shoulders and jaw until the transformation recedes. You wish your heartbeat could slow that quickly. After a few steadying breaths, Max finally turns back to you.

If his gaze was electric before, it’s damn close to lightning when your eyes meet. The jolt pulses in your veins, and his nostrils flare briefly.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says, all smooth professionalism like you haven’t just watched him vamp out because a coworker was a sleaze. You nod once, grateful, trying to ignore the sweet friction taking a step back gives to your core. 

“Will there be anything else?” you ask, the customary end to your daily exchanges. Max gathers his briefcase, movements purposeful but fast. 

“Nothing more, enjoy your night,” he answers, slipping past you with a wave of copper and musk that can’t be hidden by his Hermès cologne. You echo the sentiment but wait to take a full breath until you hear the elevator ding.

The next day Max walks in like a goddamn gladiator, powerful strides and testosterone rolling off his wool jacket. You can sense him before you see him, sometimes wondering if that’s part of the power he wields.

“Good morning!” he booms out, coming to a stop in front of your desk. You type out the end of your sentence and turn to him, smile at the ready, when your eyes drop to a box in his hand. The smile twists to confused amusement.

“What’s that?” you ask as he places the box in front of you with a pat to the silk bow neatly wrapping it. 

“Happy six months of working here,” he says with more pomp than necessary. You narrow your eyes; it’s only been four, but his face is eager so you shrug it off. The bow is buttery soft under your fingers, and your heart rate ticks up rapidly. The box hinges open, and nestled inside is a women’s Rolex watch. 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s stunning, the perfect mix of feminine and authoritative. Gleaming oystersteel and everose gold, diamonds circling the watch face laser etched with delicate leaves. It’s easily worth four months of your pay. Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

“Max, I can’t…” you start, but he places his palms on your desk and leans close, tilting his head to one side to favor your cheek with his spearmint breath.

“Wear it. No one will dare touch you, pretty girl. I promise.” His eyes are darkly confident, and the reassurance does ease the shock of the gift. 

“Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “Thank you, Max.” He nods once with a lopsided smile before returning to the usual routine of your day. While he settles in, you slide the ungodly expensive timepiece out of the box and onto your wrist. It snaps shut in a perfect fit, and the thought of Max demonstrating your wrist size to the sales person makes heat radiate in your cheeks. 

Miraculously, he was right. Brad spies you in the afternoon but one look at the watch has him about-face and leaving twice as quick as he came. At lunch the next day you ask Max about it. He smiles conspiratorially, leaning up against his desk to look down at you seated with your sandwich. You might have thought he was trying to cop a peek at your cleavage, but you had a turtleneck on today, and his eyes didn’t roam from your face.

“The sign of the cross doesn’t do shit…for me. I wasn’t a church-going kid, never got into anything organized. For a talisman to work, the belief has to be twofold. You have to believe it will protect you, and they have to believe it too. So if you want real protection against something out to get you, you have to know them intimately.” He pauses, thumb absently rubbing along the line of his bicep where he’s folded his arms. “If you both believe, anything can work.” 

“Like this?” you ask, lifting your wrist with a twist. A flash of something passes over Max’s face before he gives you a lopsided smile.

“You believe it protects you?” he asks, his voice dropping into a softer lilt. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“You told me it did.”

“And they all believe it does, because I gave it to you.” An unspoken phrase hangs between you.

I’ll protect you.

“Could have chosen something less flashy,” you joke, needing to cut through the heaviness in the air. Max’s smile cracks his face, shaking his head as he moves to his side of the desk.

“Where’s the fun in that? You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

"And you're on thin ice, Max."

"My favorite place to be."

When it’s actually your six month anniversary, Max schedules a dinner for you. Private chef, live music, a beautiful venue. He told you to bring whoever you wanted, and his name dances on the bow of your lips for a moment. You thought hope might be in his eyes that you’d let it spill. But cowardice struck, and instead you brought your two sisters. They gush over the decadence.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to fuck you?” One says, forking another mouthful of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted into her mouth. “This is like, fourth date level extravagance.”

“He’s my boss, god. Just shut up and eat.”

“I’m just saying, my husband takes me to the Cheesecake Factory, and while I will never say no to another round of Bang Bang Shrimp, this is above and beyond what anyone would expect from your boss.” 

Your other sister doesn’t say anything until you’re alone.

“Just…be careful. This could get really messy.”

Oh you have no idea.

You nod, folding your hands under your chin and looking out at the glittering skyline.

“I will, I promise. We just have a…different working relationship than anyone’s used to. But he’s never made me feel uncomfortable.” 

Quite the opposite, really. You’ve never been so comfortable with another person in your life. You’d given him floss picks and wiped shaving cream from behind his ear, smoothed flyaways and cupped his chin to inspect an uneven sideburn. He’d let you touch every part of him without comment, brushing lint from his broad shoulders and tucking inside-out pockets back into their rightful homes. 

In return, he treated you with respect. Apart from the nickname, which you won't admit you've come to enjoy, he treated you kindly and professionally. He was a womanizer, but not with you. You weren’t naive, he was definitely fucking plenty of women in the last few months you’d been working for him. Sometimes you saw the ghosts of them in his suitcase, or crumpled in pockets. Once you’d been ready to knock on his closed door but high, breathy moans held your hand at bay. Janet from Web Design left an hour later (impressive, though you’d never say it) and Max called you in shortly after, hands freshly washed and the heavy musk of sex combating faux floral notes of air freshener. Neither of you addressed it.

The difference, you assumed, was professional. He lauded your work, told you how much he appreciated how smooth you made everything for him. He wouldn’t want to fuck that up for a quickie over his desk. Or against the mahogany door. Or on the kitchenette floor, his reddened lips leaving sticky trails on your breasts. 

The blast of chill outside the restaurant sobers your thoughts. You send a text to Max, thanking him for the dinner and sending a couple selfies of you and your sisters. His return text is swift.

You deserve it, pretty girl. Looking gorgeous.

The wine loosens your inhibitions just enough to send a text back. 

What?

Instant response.

Guess.

Your hands start shaking too hard to respond, suddenly feeling much tipsier than you thought. Typing a hasty, “Thanks again, good night,” you get into the cab and spend the ride home regulating your breathing. Max doesn’t respond.

Minor issues aside - a rowdy employee or two, some tense negotiations, a race to the finish one month for sales - you like your work. You’re considering settling in, maybe not looking for the next big thing for a little while. The pay is good, the benefits are better than most, and you’re happy. For the first time in years, you actually look forward to coming to the office. And a tiny part of you that you hide away knows why.

The start of October is always a favorite time of year for you. Scary movies in abundance on TV, fall decor, and the excitement of heading into the darker months. Thanksgiving and Christmas are fine in their own rights, but Halloween is your personal favorite. You don’t add frivolity to your desk beyond a tiny pumpkin next to your pen cup, which Max eyes with a wry little smile, and a bucket of Halloween candy that anyone is welcome to dip into. It twists the mood just a fraction away from corporate dullness to corporate-appropriate holiday spirit. You even catch Max with his hand in the candy jar once or twice, waving a snack-size Twix or KitKat as he comes and goes. 

You do wonder if the childishness of the holiday is something Max dislikes. 

“It’s a little naive,” he bemoans, swallowing the dregs of blood from his insulated mug as you wash your tupperware in his kitchenette sink. Wordlessly you hold a hand out for the empty cup to clean. “Seeing everyone gallivanting around, pantomiming monsters, when they’re all too real.”

“More than vamps? Friends with any werewolves?” you tease, soaping up the sponge designated for Max’s lunches and scrubbing the congealed mess out of the lid threads. 

“Would you like to meet one?” he answers, a sing-song mockery of your own joke. 

“God no, I have enough supernatural shenanigans with you,” you laugh, washing your hands clean so you don’t smell of copper. You’re careful to slide the gifted Rolex back around your wrist when you’re finished, a ritual Max watches closely every time. Clearing your throat, you gather up your lunch bag and move to leave.

“Maybe a Halloween party would be good for morale,” Max says nonchalantly, voice stopping you in the door. You wrestle the smile off your face before turning back to him.

“Would you like me to arrange something?” you ask, failing to keep your expression breezy. Max flashes that conspirator’s grin that drums up excitement in your chest.

“Please.”

The office latches onto the party date, only a couple days before Halloween proper. There will be food, drinks, a few small prizes for best costume and raffles. You count down the days with mounting excitement, the spirit of the season making you bouncier, lighter in and out of work. Max teases you about it.

“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re going as?” he wheedles, watching you lay piles of paperwork in neat folders on his desk. You shake your head, clucking your tongue when you notice you’re one short.

“Half the fun is the surprise,” you call over your shoulder as you speed back to your desk and return with the final folder. Max doesn’t even pretend he’s interested in the documents. “What are you going to be?” His eyebrow cocks, shaking his head with derision.

“I’m a vampire, honey, I am my own costume,” he drawls, making you roll your eyes.

“So I should expect a cape with a high collar? Some dollar store plastic fangs? Hair gel?” you tease, making your hands into claws over the desk. “I vant to suck your blooooood!” you mime in your best Dracula impression, getting your own eye roll in return.

“If you’re not telling, I’m not,” he throws back, finally scooting forward in his chair and opening one of the folders. You straighten up, triumphant, and leave him to his work.

The day of the party greets you with excitement. You made the decision to go subtle, since you’ll be sitting in costume all day. Your coworkers would have time to change before the party, but you were organizing and didn’t have that luxury. So on went a sensible white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and sheer black nylons. Slipping them up your legs, you grind your lip between your teeth. The back seam of the nylons, paired with the black stiletto heels you found in your closet, turn the dress from something mundane to possibly recognizable. When you turn your back to the mirror, crossing your ankles prettily, one of the most recognizable movie posters in history pulls to the forefront. 

You could give Maggie Gyllenhaal a run for her money.

The last piece - an addition that turns the costume from seductive to silly - you tuck into the chest pocket of your blouse before leaving. 

The day passes quickly, Max calling to tell you he’s meeting with HQ through lunch and to get the festivities started without him. You usher in the caterers, laughing with your coworkers when they ask what your costume is. So far the cover story works, and they all enjoy the clever play on words. 

The party is in full swing, raffle tickets being handed out and drinks starting to flow, when Max enters. His voice precedes him, and it’s a good thing it does because if you didn’t have that brief moment to gather yourself your mouth would have dropped open.

It’s a perfect recreation of Gary Oldman’s Dracula costume. It’s so on the nose a laugh almost bubbles out if you weren’t breathless. He’s swathed head to toe in dove gray, save for the sharp shock of black around his neck, the shine of his shoes, the rich dark leather of his gloves. The waistcoat pulls tantalizingly against his stomach, a bright silver pin at the base of his throat. He’s slicked his hair into a side part, small blue-tinted glasses perched halfway down his curved nose. Leaning on the walking stick and crossing his ankles, he makes a sweeping “ta-da!” motion with his hand. Applause erupts, giving you cover to gasp in some much-needed air. 

“To All Hallows' Eve,” he croons, sharing secret looks with the team members you know are his brethren. By the time he catches your eye across the room you’ve finally comported yourself, smiling brightly at his nod. 

It takes him some time to get to you, fighting through the crowd of people wanting to rub elbows and make an impression. He gives them all their five minutes of fame in his presence, annoyance slowly ticking up with each stop. You keep busy organizing the raffle, handing out voting sheets (Max will certainly win best costume) and watching him out of the corner of your eye.

It’s at the first lull in your duties that Max slides up next to you, a warm hand on your lower back. It makes you jump, but settle quickly when his impressed smile comes into view.

“I think I know what you’re supposed to be,” he murmurs, coming to stand in front of you to get a better look. His brow furrows when his gaze lands on your breast pocket. “Hmmm, maybe not. So spill, what’s your costume?” he says, leaning on the cane and dragging his gaze up and down your body. Aiming for a carefree smile, you tap on the little calculator peeking out of your pocket.

“I’m someone you can count on,” you enunciate, the confusion and realization swirling in his eyes until a laugh bubbles out, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you came to the party as a pun,” he chokes out, both of you now giggling next to the bags of chips and finger sandwiches. When he finally gets control of himself he nods approvingly.

“Well, you might not win best costume with that…” You shrug, conceding, “but I’d give you the prize if you admit what you actually came as, pretty girl.”

Time slows to sticky seconds as Max inches closer to you, eyes sliding over your shoulder, tracing the curve of your neck, lighting for much too long on your lips. He knows, knows you wore the outfit from Secretary and for no one else but him. You keep your stare trained on his face. It’s not the first time you’ve considered throwing out professionalism in favor of hunger. It’s not like anyone else has been upholding your rigorous standards. Would it be so bad to let Max chase his desires with your body? To bloom underneath him, above him, around him? Would you like the taste of his mouth, coppery and thick? 

He’s close enough to be more than professional but not so close to be indecent, hot fingers tracing the band of the Rolex circling your wrist. Your mind blearily wonders if that’s when you let down the wall that kept him out. His eyes finally meet yours, a question in their depth, before his face contorts and he steps back quickly, a grimace painting his features.

“Are…” You swallow, mouth torturously dry. “Are you okay?” 

He nods, fighting on a smile and straightening with effort.

“Yes, sorry, I was…busy this afternoon, haven’t eaten yet.” He raises his hands in defense at your scolding glance, the tension back to a bare simmer. 

“Well go get a drink, I won’t announce the winners until you get back,” you say breathlessly, giving him a dazzling smile that he returns shyly. The tables are turned for once in your favor, and you savor watching Max on unsure footing. “Do you need me to heat something up for you?”

“No, I’ve got it taken care of,” he assures you, making his way to his office. A wave back at you is the last you see before he closes the door.

Finally able to make sense of what’s going on, you get back to the party, mingling with the girls you like from marketing and keeping tabs on the liveliness of the party. Max doesn’t return, the time to announce the costume winner closing in. You worry at your cuticles, his absence starting to toll on your mind. What if he was passed out in his office, weakening by the second? While you were out here with coworkers that had never given you a second glance?

Your resolve snaps, mother henning be damned, as you move to Max’s office. The din of the party muffles your voice, stepping close to listen at the door.

“Max?” you call, with no answer. Heart thumping, you test the handle. Locked. A quick trip to your desk has the spare key in your hand, ready to slot into the lock. 

“Max, it’s time for the announcement, I didn’t think you wanted to miss it,” you say, and this time you hear something. A low, pained groan.

The key slams into the lock, turning frantically as you whip the door open, two steps in with it shutting heavily behind you before you register what’s happening.

Max is not alone. And he’s…

He’s…

Oh fuck.

It’s easy not to see the monster when it looks like a middle manager. It’s easy to pretend the blood is a beetroot smoothie, or that the stains on his shirt are red wine. When Max makes it seem so dull, so boring, you sometimes forget he’s something strange and powerful.

But when you’re face to face with the truth, it all comes rushing to the forefront.

Max has Janet, the pretty thing from Web Design, spread out on his lap, her hands gripping the armrests of his chair. One hand is covering her mouth, leaning her head back to loll against his shoulder. The other is buried under her skirt, and from here you can see wetness shimmering inside her thighs. The lewd flexing of his forearm working her with those fingers you covet day in and day out almost distracts you from what’s actually happening. Almost.

Dragging your eyes up, you take in the true horror of the situation. You recognize the change, his face contorted with lines of deepening purple and red streaking his skin. The same that you saw when you told him about Brad. His mouth is latched onto Janet’s neck, red oozing around the seal of his lips. He’s groaning, swallowing thickly as you imagine mouthful after mouthful of her blood pouring down his throat.

The slam of the door drags Max’s eyes up, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when he sees you. Mouth popping off Janet’s skin, he growls your name, deep and drunken. The loss allows blood to spurt from Janet’s neck, thick droplets spraying across her bare legs, the carpet, his desk, staining papers you laid there just this morning. Your stomach churns violently, legs weakening as Janet thrashes against Max’s hold. He tears his eyes from you to look down at the mess, a rough, “shit,” falling from his blood-stained lips before he fits his mouth back to the ring of teeth. 

There is nothing darkly romantic about this now, no suave vampire lover sipping delicately from a young debutante’s neck. Blood sluices down to stain Janet’s pink top a deeper red, her face painted with rusty smears that gather between his fingers. Max pounds his fingers inside her, the telltale spasm of her orgasm accompanied by the liquid squeak of her flats slipping in her own blood. He withdraws, a sticky string of her cum trailing across her thighs. Pressing her flush to his chest, he sucks and growls and hums until Janet goes still, fingers falling away and body slumping. The pop of his mouth off the wound lets a dribble slip between the swell of her cleavage, more still smeared and dripping from his mouth. He sighs with relief, thick tongue lazily licking at the mess around his lips. He bands his arms around Janet and lifts, folding her face-down on his desk, legs dangling limply over the edge. Her eyes are sightless, blood smearing onto the Meyer report. 

A maddening thought - you’d have to reprint that - spikes through your consciousness.

Max stands, swaying slightly as he rolls his shoulders, finally looking at you trembling in his office. His eyes are blood red, human only in that he sees you with them. Realization flits across the face you barely recognize, smile going predatory. As if a body isn’t lying mere inches from him, he places his hands on his desk, leaning over to give you a sultry look.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he purrs, a sound that vibrates in two tones. It makes your fight or flight instinct claw up your spine. Specifically the flight part. The fight part is warring against the fiery arousal burning in your belly at Max’s slick mouth, the generous tenting in those gray pants, and the rabid desire in his eyes. Fear sharpens your pulse, and you know it would take barely anything to make you cum with a wail if he’d only touch you. 

“Can smell you from here, little secretary. Know you want me to devour that juicy pussy.” Max lengthens his neck, closing his eyes and inhaling with a satisfied moan. Flecks of blood dot the gray waistcoat, jacket abandoned in a heap on the floor. The black shirt hides the color but not the wetness of what Max could not eat. “I would, you know. I would eat you even if I was full to bursting. Let me taste you, pretty little thing. I want you on my tongue. I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll wash me clean.” 

He’s prowling around the table now, steps soft and light, and you’re a frozen gazelle with a tiger approaching. No, that’s too grounded, too finite. You’re a candle flame in the middle of an ocean, a moment away from being swallowed up. Your face is wet; you’re crying. You’re scared. You’re so aroused it hurts. You’re so in over your head you’re drowning. 

You can’t breathe. 

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Realization flickers over Max’s face and you watch him change. The veining and depth of his features recedes, eyes clearing back to soft brown as he slows his advances even further.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you.” He turns his palms up, keeping his distance as you struggle to let air back into your lungs. The first whoosh makes you so lightheaded you stumble back, falling to your knees. Max goes down to his knees with you, one hand outstretched but still too far to touch. You can’t stop shaking, taking in big gulping breaths. Max waits, a drip of blood from his chin shocking him into scrubbing his sleeve over his face. Most of the gore vanishes, but the pink hue remains. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he tries again, scooting another pace forward. “I’m sorry, you were never supposed to see that. I fucked up, please…” 

His hand brushes your ankle and you know you’re going to be sick. Bile rushes up your throat and you scramble blindly for the trash bin. You make it just in time, emptying your stomach with retching sobs. A warm palm strokes your shoulder and you snap your arm out, head still hanging.

“Don’t touch me!” you rasp, and the hand is gone, letting you finish shuddering and coughing into the bin. When your stomach stops cramping you crawl away, ignoring Max’s concerned face in your periphery. You lost one of your shoes, picking it up from its topple onto the floor and holding it in your hand like a weapon.

“Please, look at me,” Max begs, and you finally take him in. He’s much more the Max you know, but so different now. Same hair you arrange for him, same soft-shaved face you touch more than you actually need to. Same brown eyes that look to you for guidance. But when you look closer you can see the film of blood on his teeth, droplets clinging to his eyebrows, and a never ending hunger in the depths of his eyes. 

You scramble to your feet, hobbling in one shoe. Max stumbles back up to your height.

“Pretty…?” he begs again, but you’re opening the door, striding out into the ruckus of the party. A couple people turn, eyes expectant until they see you. Confusion, or realization, turns them back around to ignore you. Heart thumping in your throat, fear pangs through your chest. Is there any blood on you? A quick inspection finds none, so it must be your haunted expression and disheveled appearance that inspires discretion. 

Unable to spend another moment in this building, copper still strong in your nose, you stuff your shoes in your bag and try to hurry out the back door. You need to get home, behind a locked door, maybe several. Somewhere you can think, get a level head, figure out what to do. 

Then Brad steps into your path, and your stomach plummets again. 

“Hey, where are you going? You haven’t announced the costume contest winner yet!” he laughs, blocking your path. Stepping to the side, you watch in dismay as he does the same. Again, but the other way, and he follows. Tutting, he nods at your Rolex.

“Seems like this is just an expensive gift now,” he bemoans, dunking you in clarity. 

You have to believe it will protect you.

Nothing can save you now. 

Only yourself.

Another step-dodge hides your hand diving into your bag, and when Brad grabs your wrist you swing your arm back and drive your stiletto into the side of his neck.

“What the fuck?!” he shouts, hands coming up to staunch the dark blood seeping around the wound. Faintly you hear Max’s door open and the party drop to silence, but you leave the noise as you burst into the stairwell, racing to your car and away from the hell behind you.

Max stumbles out of his office as the door slams behind you, clothes sticking to his skin and mouth full of metallic tang. 

“Bitch put her heel in my goddamn neck!” Brad shouts, stomping up to Max. “Your assistant needs some fucking discipline Phillips.” He must have more to rant about, but two swift hands snap Brad’s head clean around and off, letting his body crumple to the floor. Max watches with disinterest, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling long and deep before tossing the head to join. 

“Okay people, cleanup protocol,” he calls out, and the vampires in the crowd all look at each other. 

“Boss?” one of them says, making Max snap his attention to them in frustration. 

“You heard me, we’ll start relocation tomorrow.”

Max ignores the screams of his turned subordinates feeding on the human ones, his eye catching the glint of something on the ground. He kneels, heart sinking at what he finds. The Rolex, her talisman. Picking it up, he turns it grimly in his hands. Brad shouldn’t have been able to touch her, not with this. As long as she still believed it worked. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the face, an errant smear of blood clouding the crystal.

You get the call on Sunday afternoon, a whole weekend spent locked up in your apartment and stressed over what Monday would bring. The unknown number is the district manager letting you know that your office is being outsourced, effective immediately. Do not return to the building, please ship company property back to HQ, on and on. Part of you is relieved to not have to step foot back there. The morbid voice in the back of your mind whispers that there’s more to it than cheaper labor. You let that voice fade in favor of relief.

With enough savings for a few months out of a job, you begin the search anew. HQ gave you a generic recommendation letter, which should be enough for your new employer. It would have been preferable to have one from Max, but thinking about what it might say gives you hysterical giggles.

Can warm blood up to body temp perfectly.

Handles high stress situations such as scheduling a body dump.

Looks into my eyes like she’s known me forever.

You force yourself out of this line of thought. 

Three weeks after you ran out of that building for the last time, you get an email.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Can we talk?

<no body copy>

Your fingers hover over the keys, throat tightening. The hysteria died down after the first week, your trips outside cautious over the second, and finally a sense of calm had settled back into your life. Did you want to invite chaos back in?

To: [email protected]

Subject: When?

<no body copy>

Your reply sends and moments later your inbox pings again.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Now?

<no body copy>

Your face scrunches in confusion before the sharp buzz of your front door bell jars you out of your chair.

“Fucking…Max, give a girl a minute,” you curse, smoothing a hand through your hair and shrugging at your loungewear attire. Padding to your intercom, you click the button to activate the video screen. No one is standing on the stoop of your apartment. Confused, you press the talk button.

“Hello?”

“It’s Max.”

You’re stunned into silence before a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re not visible on cameras too?”

“Ha ha, yeah I know, it’s great for a life of crime,” he drones out sarcastically, and even though you can’t see him you can imagine that mocking face.

A ball appears in the back of your throat. You missed him.

Buzzing him up, you wait at your door, leaning in the entryway. You don’t think he’s here to violently tie up a loose end, but you could be wrong. Your good judge of character has been suspiciously absent in the last eight months.

Three swift knocks and Max is standing in your doorway, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. You’d assumed he’d be in a suit, but this one is more casual, no necktie and his collar open. He’s wearing a cocky I-knew-you-missed-me face, but underneath there’s a current of worry, concern, and care that warms you.

“Oh, you never told me,” you say, holding the door open thoughtfully, “what are the loopholes for entering someone’s home without being invited in?”

Max’s eyes crinkle up as he rolls his eyes. There’s the man you’d been falling for.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Shit, that’s the first time you’d thought that.

“So in the movies it sounds so formal. Like ‘may I enter your home?’ and the other person has to say ‘yes, you may,’ but nobody talks like that anymore. You can just say come in, and that’s it. Or I can ask if I can come in and if you say yeah, that’s good enough. I’ve even had people tell me to come get a hug, or get out of the cold, and that worked too. Human language has evolved so much and…I am absolutely babbling like an idiot right now.” Max trails off and you stifle a smile behind your hand. It pulls a relieved one onto his face.

“I missed you,” you say, the words coming easier than you expected. Max’s eyes soften.

“I missed you too.”

You look at each other in silence before you snap back to the previous conversation.

“Oh, shit, right, yeah come in,” you stutter, Max crossing the threshold and handing you the sunny bouquet. The plastic wrap crinkles around your fingers, making for a good distraction as you move to put them in water while Max hangs his coat. 

It takes you a few minutes to snip the stalks and place them in a vase, and then a few moments more to ask Max if he’d like something (“whatever you’re having”) and brew two cups of black tea. Entering your little living room, you find Max sitting at one end of your couch, thumbing through a travel book. He puts it down to accept the tea, setting it to cool on the coffee table. Placing yours beside, you settle into the couch and try to think of where to begin. Thankfully, Max starts.

“I’m sorry you had to see any of that after all that you’ve done for me. It was inappropriate for me to feed at work, even more so to scare you. It was wildly unprofessional and I completely understand if you don’t want to be associated with me after that.”

You blink slowly at him, absorbing this carefully rehearsed apology. He waits for your response, damnation or salvation.

“Is Janet okay?”

You watch his face cooly as he struggles through a few different emotions. Confusion, incredulity, amusement, relief. 

“Yeah, Janet’s fine, I turned her. She’s moving to England, not as much sun.”

Silence slips between you before you break into giggles, Max following along as the tension unwinds. When your breath stops hitching you give Max a warm smile, picking up your mug to take a sip. 

“Sounds like HQ just wanted to sweep all this under the rug. Would it always have ended up this way, or was the party to blame?” Max shrugs, arm slung over the back of the couch and ankle resting on his knee.

“It’s different every place I go. Sometimes it’s longer, other times it’s only a few weeks. You made it easier,” he says, a blanket of fondness warming your lap. Tracing the lip of the mug with your fingernail, you sort through what you want to say next.

“Before the party…was something going on between us? Or is that some weird vampire thing to make humans easy to manipulate?” Peering through your lashes, you think you see Max blush.

“I can assure you I did not use my supernatural powers of suggestion on you. Only on difficult clients,” he laughs, tilting his head lazily onto one shoulder. “Yeah,” he adds quieter, face turning to his lap. “Yeah, there was something going on between us.” Slowly, giving you time to shy away, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the inside of your knee. A trill of excitement flutters through you. “I hope it’s still there.”

Just as cautiously, you reach out and let the tips of your fingers meet, his hand turning over to cup them in his palm. The softness of his skin entices you to stroke along his broad palm, the undersides of his fingers, until he moves to lace them with yours, joints stretching pleasantly around his larger ones. When you get the courage to look up he’s regarding you with quiet wonder, lips parted. You smile at him, eliciting one in response.

“I have something for you,” he says, voice tight as he digs into his pants pocket. It’s a smaller box than the first gift he got you, and you release his hand to take it. Sliding the top off, you’re treated to a delicate silver chain. 

“I don’t think the Rolex quite expresses what I’d like us to be now,” Max says, lifting the chain out of the box. It’s even more dainty in his hands, thick fingers struggling briefly with the clasp. 

“So you’re not asking me to keep being your assistant?” you say, pulse pounding in your ears so loud you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Put this on and I’ll show you what I’d like us to be,” he says, a soft challenge but no fire in his eyes. Instead there’s a question, one that you’d struggled with in the weeks following the party.

Could you handle this? 

Pushing up on your knees, you gently lift one leg over Max’s lap, settling on his thighs. His eyes widen, then that bratty smile comes back to grace his face. 

“I’m waiting Max,” you tease in a sing-song lilt. He lifts the chain to loop around your neck, fastening the ends together. It hangs cooly against you, sensation slowly disappearing as it warms to your skin.

“This will protect you, if you believe in it,” he says, and as he breathes the words he leans up to place a soft kiss to your collarbone, pressing the chain between his lips and your skin. “It will protect you from those with ill intent,” he continues, trailing his lips along the necklace as he places another kiss at the base of your throat, “because I will never let another creature, living or undead, bring harm to you.” Here he places an open-mouthed kiss on your sternum, a tentative lick pebbling your skin. “And it will protect you from me,” His mouth moves up the other side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way, “because I will never lay a hand on you that you’re not begging for.” 

You bury your hands in his short locks, scratching your nails along his scalp. The groan he lets out makes him circle you in his arms, sliding you down his thighs to sit tight against him. His breathing becomes erratic, and he rolls his hips below you.

“I’ll never…fuck, I’ll never drink from you. I’ll never bite you, I promise,” he growls, and now his mouth is hot and possessive on your neck, sucking and scraping teeth up to worry behind your ear.

“I like biting,” you whisper back, grinding lightly on him. “Only these teeth, though, not the sharp ones.” 

The dark chuckle he makes precedes him pulling you back, looking up at you with wide eyes and a damp mouth. 

“I still want you to be my assistant, though, I’m a mess without you,” he pants, eyes glittering with mirth. Shaking your head with a sigh, you dip down to capture the mouth you’d been coveting. He tastes like bitter tea leaves, coffee, and the primal coppery heat of blood on the back of his tongue.

It’s a taste you could get used to.

NEXT

#max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #prolix fics

[yoo-jeongneon]

undo every button.. (even if one goes missing) | j.ww

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: romance

warnings: actor!wonwoo, actor!reader, smut, explicit language, acquaintances-to-lovers, director is an impatient bastard, awkward tension, confessions, flirtatious banter

smut warnings: afab anatomy used, fingering (reader), unprotected oral (both), cum swallowing, pet names (reader: babe, gorgeous, beautiful), quite passionate/intense, skipping sex due to not having a condom

word count: very nearly 4.6k

a/n: this is a one-shot from my old blog that i decided to repost here - let me know what you think, feedback is much appreciated!

× you and wonwoo are actors who have been called upon to star in a steamy music video. the three-day filming period is rather awkward, and things finally snap on the third day.. ×

The camera's eye is so hot on the two of you it could practically burn a hole through your skin.

You stand between Wonwoo's legs, hands on his shoulders, wearing nothing but a white button down and some black underwear. In contrast, Wonwoo is shirtless with the flies of his trousers undone; his hands ghost over your hips, still keeping that barrier between you, his palms growing sweatier by the second.

Wonwoo had been instructed to strip you down, roughly, with as much passion needed to convey the appropriate emotions. He needs to rip open the shirt, exposing nothing underneath, and kiss down the centre of your body.

Of course, with clever editing not much is seen, but the implication needs to be there and more importantly, needs to be clear.

So, the director encourages him, pushing him towards that goal of indicating such fiery intent that it would be obvious that he can't hold back.

Your eyes travel down to him, your mind an absolute mess of emotions when Wonwoo is this close to you. You want nothing more than for Wonwoo to just do it, take everything off and sink his teeth in. Dip his tongue below and ravage you. Pin you down to this very bed and fuck you stupid.

But Wonwoo becomes frozen.

His fingers dance across the space above your hips, unable to bring himself to do what the director has asked of him. He looks askance, gazing down at the floor as his stress levels peak.

Eventually he lowers his hands, resting them on his thighs, and calls for a five minute breather.

You can't help a sigh leaving your lips; a mix of uneasiness and confusion. You can't read Wonwoo's mind, how are you supposed to understand what exactly is going on in it?

Vexed as fuck, wishing the work day would just end, the director mumbles, "Cut.." You step back and sit on the stool by the dressing table, one leg crossed over the other. Standing between you, the director doesn't hide his frustration as he says, "When you're ready, do let us know."

The entire crew leaves the room with him, and once his back is turned, you roll your eyes, loathing how impatient he can be.

When you finally look over at Wonwoo, you realise he hasn't moved a single muscle.

"Um.." you swallow, "are you alright?"

He doesn't look up at you, and instead quietly says, "I don't know.."

There are a thousand gears turning in his head and he wants to throw a wrench in every single one. You watch him from across the room, thirty seconds of silence dissolving into an eternity.

Picking at a stray bit of lint on his trousers, Wonwoo closes his eyes and exhales. You get up and pace around the room, stopping by the window to get a view of the city.

You never realised just how beautiful it looks from this high up. Streetlights twinkle like stars on the roads below, and the distant noise of nightlife is only barely muffled by the glass that separates you.

You fold your arms after a time, shoulders tensing to your ears as you become painfully aware of Wonwoo's presence in the room. For the longest time, you figured if you never had to work in such close proximity to him, the feelings would go away and you could move on with your life.

But life dealt you a daunting card, and now you stand just inches away from the man himself, shirtless and completely unaware of exactly what it took for you to even be in the same room, let alone like this.

Behind you, you catch the faint rustling of sheets. You don't dare look back, choosing to keep your gaze fixed on the world in front of you.

Once Wonwoo reaches the end of the bed, he stands. He takes careful steps towards you, the subtle creaks of the floor beneath his feet an agonising reminder that he's spent too long hoping. Too long wishing. Too long imagining.

Not enough action.

Every centimetre of space lost is truly a test in and of itself. Does Wonwoo stop here and turn away? Does he call it quits with the director and run for the hills?

Or does he recognise the beautiful, smart, headstrong, fearless person who's a master of their craft standing right in front of him.. and actually make something known of this attraction?

By the time he's figured it out, he's standing directly behind you.

Damned if he fucking doesn't.

"N.." he murmurs, and it almost makes you jump. His voice drips beneath the base of your spine and down, and you swallow hard as it sinks in just how close he is. "There's something I need to say.."

Right now, you would very much like the ground beneath you to open a giant wormhole.

You bite down on your bottom lip and can only manage a whisper, "Yeah?"

With a sigh, Wonwoo says it point-blank, "I am so fucking crazy about you."

You suck in a breath. Your knees go completely weak and you have to close your eyes for a few seconds.

He did not just say that.

"And before you ask, no, I'm not lying," he forces a chuckle out, and that's what makes you finally turn around and look at him.

You search his face for some tiny crack in the seam, a sign that he's just messing with you, and that he did not just confess attraction for you while you're standing there yearning for him to turn you inside out.

But there's nothing of the sort. Wonwoo's expression remains wholly sincere. "That's why I've been so.. awkward these past couple of days. When I took on this project, I knew exactly what it entailed. I knew I'd be working with you and.. I genuinely thought I could do it without completely losing it but my feelings for you are just too strong."

Every word he says is just another punch to the gut. You truly had no idea he felt this way about you, but you suppose putting the whole thing into perspective, it makes some semblance of sense, even if it is crazy.

It then becomes apparent that if you don't say anything now, you'll probably never speak again.

"I really genuinely can't believe you just said that," you mutter quite neutrally, looking elsewhere so you don't have to make eye contact with him for more than a second. Wonwoo tugs at the inside of his lip; your remark feels rather blasé, but in your mind it's to circumvent wanting to bury your head in the sand and scream.

You sigh dreamily into the open air, "Because, lord, how am I meant to say this now.."

Wonwoo lifts his head. Say what? He can't help but feel he's just made an awkward situation even more uncomfortable.

"Wonwoo.." you exhale. "You have no idea how I feel about you." When your eyes meet, Wonwoo bites down on his tongue hard. You push your shoulders back, lifting your chin and doing so with purpose. "Because I am immensely insane about you." Before you know it, you can't stop. "And that scene just now, with me standing between your legs, I literally couldn't think, I just wanted you to-" You cut yourself off, and notice Wonwoo's eyes have darkened significantly.

He takes a step closer to the point it's stifling, "Wanted me to do what?" He can't help the vaguest smirk, a certain new confidence washing over him.

You pan down to his chest. You lift a hand, keeping it at a distance until Wonwoo takes it and places it just beneath the collarbone. Beneath it all, you can feel his heart thudding at a ridiculous pace, and you can tell it matches your own.

Wonwoo feels that spark the second your hand is on him. He struggles to keep his composure, wanting to give himself over completely, undo you in ways that have you screaming his name while letting you have your way with him.

The moment you look up into his eyes, your strong gaze bringing you both to the point of no return, Wonwoo knows you're both in for something much longer than a five minute breather.

"Everything the director asked for and more."

Wonwoo gulps. "N?"

"Yes?" you lift a brow.

"..Can I kiss you?"

Your lips tilt up. "Yes."

In an instant, Wonwoo crashes his lips against yours, snaking his arms around your body and pulling you impossibly close. A surprised yelp leaves your throat before you kiss back with just as much vigour, throwing your arms around his shoulders and arching your back into his grasp.

You move in unison to the end of bed and Wonwoo collapses down, placing you back in the position you were in minutes earlier. Thinking back to the director's instruction, Wonwoo rips the shirt open and kisses down the length of your body, tongue lapping over every inch of skin like it's a carnal need.

His mouth is so hot on your otherwise cool skin that you gasp for air, fingers tugging every strand of his locks urging him to go lower.

"Fuck, gorgeous," he groans against your navel, "you are stunning." He wraps his lips around one nipple, thumb teasing the other and a loud moan throttles out of your throat.

"Wonwoo-" You throw your head back at the pleasure coursing through your body as Wonwoo switches.

"What do you need, beautiful?" He doesn't relent, his tongue working hard on the buds until they're both stiff.

"You- fuck, touch me-" you beg, and Wonwoo chuckles as he slips a thumb inside your underwear and rubs circles on your clit. You convulse, twisting in the firm hold he has on your waist with just one hand, thighs already shaking at just a simple touch.

"Jesus, N, so wet for me.." he murmurs. He growls a little as he presses his thumb harder, rubbing faster, watching as you lose all balance and throw yourself forward. You clutch his shoulders and screw your eyes shut, moaning and whimpering as you reach your release. "That's it.."

"Oh- oh- fuck, Won-" You dig your nails into his shoulders and cry out as Wonwoo pushes the fabric aside and massages your folds, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance. You twitch and contort and clench around nothing, holding on for dear life as Wonwoo sings praise after praise into your ear. "Wonwoo-"

"Yes?" he exhales.

"Please, more-"

"Yeah?" He pushes the tips of his fingers in and stars burst in your vision. "Like that?"

"Yes- ah- fuck-"

Wonwoo chuckles mischievously as he pushes one digit in, gently followed by the second with your permission. He curves his fingers inside, trying to find the spot to make you shriek.

"Ah-" you cry, already on the precipice and struggling to form any coherent thought when his slender fingers are buried. No room for thinking about what those fingers could do anymore when they're making mean work of your insides. "Gonna- fuck- gonna-"

"Go on, beautiful, let go, that's it-" The tips of his fingers just brush that spot, making you melt away into a puddle. "Fuck, so good, so, so good-" he husks, his fingers coated in your wetness. The strain of his cock in his briefs is becoming more and more unbearable and he grunts involuntarily, but remains focused on your pleasure all the while. He speeds up his movements and watches as you shudder in his hold, crying his name as you come undone.

Wonwoo pulls his fingers away, and you nearly fall into his lap; you then take his hand and bring the two digits to his mouth, lips curved upwards in a devilish smirk. Wonwoo gets the hint and drags his lips over the two digits, making a low noise at the back of his throat as he savours your taste.

Cupping his jaw, you capture Wonwoo's lips in another kiss, knee pressed firmly into the mattress just to keep yourself steady. Your tongues move back and forth to the point you can taste yourself, and a tight moan punches out of you.

Wonwoo falls back on the bed. His cock is now so painfully hard he has to cup a hand over it just for some relief.

You break the kiss and look down, seeing the noticeable tent that has formed in his trousers. You run your tongue over your lips and ask, "May I?"

Wonwoo knows exactly what you want to do, and his heart can't stop racing. "Please-" You smirk then push your hand down the open fly in his trousers and stroke softly through the fabric of his briefs. Wonwoo bucks his hips up, jaw tipping open as his eyes close.

With one hand resting on the bed, you up the pace. "Does that feel good?" you breathe into his ear, and Wonwoo wonders if he hasn't just died and gone to heaven.

"So good, fuck.. More, N, please-"

With an idea in mind, you take your hand out, causing Wonwoo to groan at the loss of contact. You chuckle at that, "One second.." You tug at the waistband of his trousers and Wonwoo gets the idea, helping to take them off and throw them aside. Next go his briefs, Wonwoo's hard cock curving upwards to his stomach.

"Holy shit-" you blurt.

Wonwoo smirks, unable to get rid of that mischievous glint in his eye as he watches you wrap a hand firmly around the base. He grunts, rolling his hips upward as you get down on your knees.

Pushing himself up, he watches as you gaze up at him, giving him a wink as you press a kiss to his inner thigh.

The second he realises what you want to do, he swallows. "You sure, N?"

Your eyes flicker up, "Mhm. I wanna make you feel good."

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, "If anything changes, or you wanna stop, grip my hand okay?"

Your heart flutters in your chest, "I will." You press another kiss to his thigh, and Wonwoo's eyes close.

In his own flustered state, he can't stand the teasing.

"N, babe, please-" The pet name is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. You smile to yourself, heart ricocheting off every part of your body, and slowly bring your mouth to the tip of his leaking cock.

The sound that shudders out of Wonwoo is the guttural cry of a man teetering on the edge. He threads his fingers through your hair, wanting nothing more than for you to take him whole and suck him dry.

"N- fuck-" He pushes his hips up, wanting, needing something more, but you take your time, running your tongue down the underside and back up to the head. "Oh, God-"

With your hand still wrapped around the base, you take the head into your mouth and suck gently. It's absolutely mind-blowing how you could do so little and yet have this effect on him.

You moan subtly, causing tiny vibrations to surge through his body, and he almost falls back on the bed, unable to keep himself upright when everything you're doing below is murderous.

Eventually, Wonwoo finds the resolve to glance down, and you meet him half-way, glazed eyes glimmering against the warm hues of the floor lamp in the corner of the room.

Fuck, he's in trouble. Fuck, he's going to lose it. Fuck, he wants to ruin you.

You steadily take his entire cock in, breathing through the nose as you hollow out. He's fairly big, and the tip hits the back of your throat, but you do not mind one bit.

Wonwoo feels as though he's legitimately glitching out. The warmth of your mouth and the soft swipes of your tongue across every inch of his cock is doing him under in ways he wasn't prepared for.

"Jesus, fuck, N.. God, that feels so good-" You moan weakly at the praise, sending yet another jolt through him. He tightens his grip on your hair ever so slightly, and it only pushes you to work harder. "Fuck, your mouth is, ah-" He rolls his hips up, essentially fucking into your mouth, each push causing another sound to push out of your throat. "God, babe, I'm not gonna last-"

You then grip his hand, and Wonwoo immediately shifts, loosening his grip and giving you room to pull off his cock.

But you don't distance yourself too much, only muttering, "Come for me, I'll take it," before sinking back down.

Wonwoo short-circuits. His breath hitches as you lick at the tip, and he shudders and breaks as he comes hard in your mouth.

You take every last bit, stroking the base of Wonwoo's cock until he eventually stops. You pull back with a smug grin, licking over your lips before getting to your feet.

Wonwoo struggles to breathe as he comes down, groaning loudly into the air above him as he falls back onto the bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, and he instantly finds the strength to sit up and ardently tear the shirt off you, throwing it aside before you switch positions.

Wonwoo pins you to the bed, devouring your lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Fuck, I want you so bad-" he moans between kisses.

You whimper and reach for the waistband of your underwear, trying to push them down before Wonwoo takes the reins and pulls them off, discarding them along with the shirt. You spread your legs wide and Wonwoo can only stare at the glisten of arousal.

"Please-" you beg. "Want your mouth.."

Wonwoo smiles knowingly, then lowers himself until he's level with your clit before pressing a kiss just above. You moan and reach down to grip his hair, which only spurs him on.

He tests the waters with a single lick to the bud. You grab the sheets, your hips flexing up into him, and Wonwoo dives in, steadily, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud and sucking delicately, choosing to also take his time. He holds onto you thighs and buries his face into your folds, running his tongue up and down the length before working his way back up the clit.

Each new ministration is dangerous. You buck into his mouth helplessly, aching for more of him, fingers locked in his hair as you cry out his name.

Wonwoo claws his fingers into your thighs, trapping himself there, then draws one hand up the length of your body. You grab his hand and hold on, unable to think, speak or function properly in the foggy haze of having exactly what you've dreamed of finally happen.

"Ah- ah-" Very few coherent words can be uttered, the sounds a mix of jumbled letters and strained noises. "Ple- Won- ah.."

Wonwoo understands he's been asked after, and draws back just briefly. "What do you need, babe?" His lips reattach to the clit and he sucks a little more fervently.

"To- Tongue- oh.." You clasp his hand harder as Wonwoo brushes the tip of his tongue against your entrance. "Yes- please-"

Pulling away for a mere second, Wonwoo breathes in his lowest voice, "Let me hear you, babe.. I got you."

Wonwoo plunges into your heat and you spring off the bed. "Fuck- Wonwoo!"

Wonwoo can't help a smile forming as he pushes his tongue deeper inside; that's exactly what he was after.

Your moans turn to heavy panting as Wonwoo laps at the warmth, pushing his tongue in and out before licking one long stripe up the centre and back down again. He devours like a man starved, eyes closed and brows knitted together and revels in every sound you make.

Wonwoo thinks for a brief second that you'll let go of his hand, but when you only tighten your grip, hips stuttering into him with a litany of curses spilling from your mouth, he knows you're close. He wraps his lips around the bud again and hums, and that's what finally throws you over the edge.

It's only then that you let go of his hand, resting the back of it on your forehead as tears sting the back of your eyes.

Wonwoo helps you through it, relaxing his muscles and letting the moment sit for a while. Drawing back, he runs his tongue over his lips and swipes the remains off his chin.

He crawls up the bed until he's eye level, and your eyes - dazed and off-kilter from everything that's just happened - flutter open. You're barely able to take in the sight of Wonwoo hovering above you before you're wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him down. Wonwoo follows eagerly, kissing so tenderly, and you get another quick taste before Wonwoo is dragging his lips down to your neck.

With one hand on your hip bone, the other keeping himself steady on the pillow, Wonwoo buries his head in the crook of your neck and kisses ardently. You gasp, keening into him as you dig your fingers into his lower back.

Wonwoo grunts then says into you ear, "How did that feel?"

You wish you could form enough comprehensible speech to answer.

Gazing up at him, you reach up to cup his jaw and meekly whisper, "So fucking good, you are.." Wonwoo smiles, heartfelt, and presses a kiss to your forehead. You hum; this proximity is kind of surreal, and you want to bask in this moment forever. "How did-" your eyes flicker down, "that feel?"

Wonwoo gets it immediately. "N, you've got no fucking idea," he laughs, but means it sincerely. "What you did? Insane."

Your eyes find each other, and something stirs in both of you. Wonwoo leans down and presses another kiss to your lips that you return, before you grab his face between your palms and deepen it.

Wonwoo mutters between kisses, "Do you wanna do this?"

"God, yes, please fuck me-" you answer. Wonwoo's heart jumps into his throat, and he goes back to indulging you in kisses.

You both want this so fucking bad, but the second Wonwoo climbs into position, reality hits him and he breaks away.

You stare at him, a little bewildered, but Wonwoo leans down and whispers, "Ain't got a condom."

Your eyes go wide, "Oh, shit."

Wonwoo utters a fuck under his breath and turns to lay on his side next to you. He lets out a chuckle, "Ah, Jesus.."

"And I don't have one either.." you mutter. Wonwoo leans into your side, pressing a kiss to your shoulder with a soft grin on his face.

Both of you are no doubt disappointed, but you have a bit of fun with it.

"Do you think the director would mind if we went and got some?" Wonwoo jokes. You erupt in laughter and nudge him. "Uh, yeah, excuse me, N and I desperately wanna fuck, but no condoms, can we go buy some?"

You laugh harder, and Wonwoo's face lights up at that sound.

That's when you catch yourselves staring at one another again.

This entire situation has changed everything.

Neither of you could deny your feelings, and you had just spent a fair bit of time showing each other exactly how you feel, but now it's come to actually talking about it.

"N, I.." Wonwoo mumbles. "I wanna see you again," he says, outright. "I wanna-" He cuts himself off at the sight of your glazed, beautiful eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat and continues, "I wanna be with you."

You bite your bottom lip then sigh, "I want that too."

Wonwoo's shoulders tense. He gathers up whatever's left of his courage and asks, "Would you.. like to come to my place? Say, this Friday?"

A warm smile trickles onto your face, "I would love that."

He mirrors your expression, then leans down to kiss you again. You stay like that until a thought pops into your head. "Do you think the director has caught onto what we've been doing?"

Wonwoo pulls away and hums. "Well if he hasn't yet, then-" As if on cue, a knock at the door. "Ah." Caught off guard, you throw your head back in laughter.

On the other side of the door, a now infuriated director huffs and shouts, "Are you two done with your five minute breather?"

Wonwoo nestles close to you, "It would be rude to ask for five more minutes, wouldn't it?"

You hit his shoulder lightly, "Wonwoo!" He chuckles before meeting your lips again, your smiles turning into another intense kiss as Wonwoo runs his hand down the side of your body and raises your leg up. Your chest tightens at the sensation, a soft whimper leaving the back of your throat.

..It would be rude to ask for five more minutes.

Another loud knock interrupts them, and you finally break away with a sigh. "We probably shouldn't keep them waiting," you admit.

Wonwoo eventually agrees, slightly peeved but nonetheless understanding. "One second!" he yells out to the director.

You sit up first, leaving him to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling just to process this. You titter at the mess around you of bunched up clothes in tiny piles at the foot and the side of the bed, then reach forward to grab the shirt so you can put it back on.

With six buttons done up, you go to do the seventh, when you notice something out of the ordinary. Your brows furrow as your thumb recognises no plastic to hold onto, and when you look down and inspect further, you snort and cover your face.

Wonwoo catches this and lifts a brow, "What's up?"

"Come here," you beckon him over. He sits up and pushes himself down the length of the bed, pecking your shoulder once more before resting his chin on it. "So.. you know they talk about blurring the lines between what is and what isn't acting?" He hums affirmatively. You alert him to what you found and he stares at it. "Does a missing button fall under that?"

It takes him two seconds, but then, "Oh, shit-"

You laugh as Wonwoo launches off the bed in a desperate search for this missing button. He stops to throw his briefs back on, then kneels on the floor to check under the bed. You do the same with your underwear then lean over to where he's searching. "Any luck?"

"No.. and both our phones are in our rooms so we don't have a torch." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Did I really rip the shirt open so hard a button flew off?"

"Ah, I think it's alright." He looks up at you. "If they do notice a torn off button, well that's all part of the act, isn't it?" you wink, leaning close to him.

Wonwoo freezes in place; another knock makes him jump, and he steals a kiss before moving to put his trousers back on. You make yourself comfortable at the end of the bed while Wonwoo heads for the door to open it.

The director storms in and stops between the two of you.

"So-" he starts, "are we now a bit more prepared to film this scene?"

You suppress a smile by biting down on your lip, and Wonwoo can't help a smirk as he looks at you and answers the query.

"Definitely.. though we may have a missing button."

× yoo-jeongneon ×

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #⚡yoo jeongneon⚡

[sapphire-weapon]

After reading your analysis on the tram scene I had to go back and watch the cutscene over again to see why I and many others didn’t understand it the way it’s intended to be, however when I did watch it again it kinda made sense.

The scene itself plays out very quickly (under darker lighting, which is a little irrelevant but it still made it harder for me to read emotions) and alot of thinking that should be done for the first few seconds within that scene is swiftly bulldozed by “woah they kissed”, and since first impressions are so so impactful, I think others would find it hard to see that scene as anything other then romantic since they already know a fat kiss scene is coming up.

So when you started dissecting little grimmaces and dissapointing looks Leon shoots to Ada, only then did I really realise that *oh he’s not a complete naïve idiot*, guess many people still follow that idea though

it's one of those things that's really hurt by people coming into the remake with prior conceptions/knowledge from OG -- because it's one of those scenes that should be obvious on subsequent rewatches.

like the bulldozing of that scene by the kiss was intentional, and the idea is that you're only supposed to actually pick up on those little details once you've already beaten the game once and seen ada's betrayal and heard leon say that he never trusted her. it's supposed to hit different on a rewatch. a lot of movies use this tactic.

but people play the remake knowing that the kiss is genuine in OG despite ada's betrayal, so they never look at the scene any differently because their perception is already colored. and new fans play the game only once, then go into the fandom and see the biased takes of old fans, and the misconception becomes the Truth.

and it's like... that really sucks for the writers and performance directors, dude. because they did this really clever thing that shipping culture basically just destroyed.

[lorephobic]

Because i don't want your inane rambles on my blog I'm just gonna reply in an ask- hi, user gogystyle here, i appreciate that u went to the effort to stalk my blog to figure out i liked dream at one point, very clever of you. Moving on, i see you're really attached to the director of saltburn- we love some personality worship💀💀. I'm not going to look at what she said about the movie, the damn thing is long enough as it is and should stand on its own. And i put it in the tag to piss you off and because the tag is already rancid enough. You're good at stalking, scroll down some more and you should see some more detailed takes i had about the film. But as i see you only have the opinion the director has, which has been spoonfed to you, it's probably best you don't bother. Really nice talking to you, and congrats on being the first lobotomy patient with a tumblr blog!😄😄

baby ur name is gogystyle, i didn't have to do any stalking to know that ur a dream stan. it's okay, we all make mistakes <3

"personality worship" is rich considering i don't know shit about emerald fennell, i just watch and appreciate what she has to say about Her Movie. that she Wrote and Directed. lmao.

the movie absolutely stands on it's own, i was just suggesting supplemental material for those of us who struggle with keeping up. if that's too much homework for u, that's okay. i've found manhunt to be much more accessible to ppl who aren't ready for high school yet. hope u get help!

#love the insistence that im stalking u because i. looked at ur url. #girl im a minecraft youtube blog too help ! #im not stalking u! i was with u in the fucking trenches!! #get outta there!!!! #asks #hatemail #saltburn posting

[starrycrystals]

Here are some personal takeaways and analysis after watching episodes 1 & 2 of Disney's Percy Jackson series. I've made a previous post discussing the series here.

------SPOILERS for EPISODES 1&2 of Disney's PERCY JACKSON--------

First of all, the acting was bad and seemed restrictive and expressionless BUT that's probably because the director decided to take this approach (which I hate)

Actors I've liked so far are: Grover's, Clarisse's, Annabeth's (although we've hardly seen her so far) and of course Jason Mantzoukas. That's right not Walker, which is just disappointing. I've seen him in other projects and he does an alright job, this just confirms my suspicion that the actors are not bad they just have to work with a bad script and direction. Even Mantzoukas' acting seemed restrained at some points, truly a shame.

The pacing is bad and the editing between scenes seems a little choppy.

Some camera angles are so wide and static that they took me out of the story even in emotional scenes.

All of these choices (and some involving the writing which I'm gonna get to in a second) I feel like didn't allow me to connect with most of the characters and especially the show's protagonist Percy, which is a blaring sign that sth went wrong along the process of making this series.

Percy:

He's such a lovable character that he's had multiple book series written with him in the leading role. Even though he often fills the role of the "chosen one", he exhibits traits of cleverness and battlefield knowledge both of which are intuitive to him but also grow as the books progress.

However, in the show it feels like EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. he gets a chance to prove this it gets swept away from him and makes him seem like the overplayed Mary Sue character where everything is happening around him, every piece of information is handed TO HIM instead of him figuring it out.

Even the fight with the Minotaur (which could be used to show his inate fighting instincts and bravery) felt a little off to me when I realized that the horn is removed simply because of.. idek some kind of godly strength?? It seems very Superman-esque and you just threw away the chance to show his ability with a sword even with no prior training.

And this keeps happening, people keep handing him information and giving him chances to escape camp even (!) when he very well could have tried to gather information or leave camp himself. Even the quest is handed to him, all vital information included™ by Chiron of all people (Side note: if the Oracle doesn't play a major role in the series I might just quit the show all together)

Sally Jackson & Gabe:

I feel like they shifted the characters and their dynamic a bit. Gabe doesn't seem as abusive as in the books and Sally seems to be able to stand up to him with literally no consequence from him, he just caves and lets them go. This might have something to do with the series being Disney-fied but I'm curious how this will play out and reflect as the audience witnesses Gabe's ultimate fate. Overall it seems like a pointless change that might reflect more poorly on Sally as a character.

Grover:

Grover's portrayal is actually one of the enjoyable parts of the show for me but it gets ruined when I think of some scenes they gave him. First his "betrayal" of Percy is just sad to watch when you're used to seeing them as a BFF always-by-your-side duo, especially when it happens in the very first episode of the series that introduces these characters. So far we haven't seen any consequence for this betrayal either.

This seems to be a pattern so far for the series, characters do things and in return get no consequences even if they're "bad" decisions. Another example is when Grover interrupts Dionysus' and Chiron's meeting with Percy and immediately disobeys Dionysus orders by presenting Percy with even more information regarding his mother. To my shock and displeasure this AGAIN has had no consequences brought on Grover. Interrupting two very important people, one of which a god and disobeying their orders in the same breath should have SOME consequence, no? Dionysus even gives Grover a look of genuine disappointment and pity but literally nothing else happens.

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

Now, I haven't watched episode 3 and the rest of the series hasn't aired as of yet. Therefore some of these things might change or develop.

Overall the series so far has left me disappointed and ultimately baffled at the lack of entertaining value it provided me. I felt like I sat down to watch some pretty scenery and graphics for almost two hours with no emotions involved whatsoever. It just wasn't ψυχαγωγικό for me.

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo disney+ #anti percy jackson #last tag used cause there's some complaints thrown in there

[new-haven-psych-ward]

I get liking the joke of "if we wanted people to buy Barbie not being pretty, casting directors shouldn't have gone for Margot Robbie". It's funny. The narrator's delivery of it is really clean. It's the kind of jab I'd lean over to my sibling and make, which is precisely why I waffled on whether or not i liked it for so long. But tbh, the dig completely sucks the air out of an emotional moment (that Margot Robbie and America Ferrera are killing btw) and, more importantly, it misses the whole point. As America/the mother's whole speech delivered mere moments later gets at, being a woman is being held to an impossible standard: you're never enough. It doesn't matter how skinny you are, you're made to feel fat. It doesn't matter how many smart you are, you're made to feel stupid. It doesn't matter how well you do your job, you're made to feel a fraud. Even woman who look like they've got it all put together - the business owners, the beauty models, the doctors and lawyers - can't win because the goal post is always moving. Because they can smile more, can't they? Be better at makeup, or dress more flattering. Be more clever with their words or actions. Be more and more and more. It doesn't matter where you're at, the goal post is always twenty yards ahead.

So i wish they'd just left that scene as it was. Let professionally made-up, stunning Margot Robbie say, "I'm not pretty" with no setup for a quick punchline. Let the audience question how that can't be right - that Margot Robbie is classic Holywood beautiful. Keep the close-up on Margot's face of utter despair because, yes, even she's been made to feel like she's not pretty.

#honestly im sick of media being afraid of sincerity #like i get it its a gamble here #its easy for people to make fun of this take #but damn you don't have to undercut such a good poignant scene with a simple joke like this #and i do like the narrator! #shes got fun snarky commentary #which again! is my style! #just let this serious moment sit #barbie #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #like the humor in this movie is great #I just wish they'd let this one be #cuz they're not afraid to get serious at other points? #idk it's weird

[frasier-crane-style]

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

Might as well give this a shot. I'll liveblog at half an hour intervals, starting with the opening.

-It's not all bad, but it's pretty clear the magic is gone. Deaged Indy always lands somewhere between a Tintin character and that bit in Skyfall where Daniel Craig's head was pasted onto a stuntman's body. It doesn't help that the director tries to cover for the CGI by drowning the sequence in murky darkness.

-There's also a bad start-and-stop quality to the action that keeps it from ever seeming to kick into high gear. There'll be a brief burst of action, then Indy sneaks around for a bit, brief burst of action, EXPOSITION DUMP, Indy sneaking around a bit. So it doesn't feel like things are escalating, more like you're playing MGS and you manage to hide for thirty seconds so the alert is canceled and you go back to just wandering around. There's even a part where the guards pull an alarm and it only sounds in one part of the train--Indy's able to just mosey along through another boxcar. What's the point of that alarm? To tell everyone in a ten-foot radius that there's trouble?

-Credit, they actually come up with some good set-ups in this... Indy hotwires a car that is immediately boarded by Nazi higher-ups who think he's their driver and Indy is about to be hung when an Allied bomb lands in the middle of the room to take things from bad to worse (missed opportunity: he should've been standing on the stool when the bomb hits, taking out the floor, so he goes from out of the frying pan into the fire instead of from being strangled to being strangled). The problem is the pay-offs just aren't there. Indy doesn't come up with a clever way out of his problems, he just gets lucky. Hell, I'd settle for a decent quip like "No ticket!"

-Indy gets lucky so many times in this, to the point where you might think it's a superpower a la Longshot. Let's count 'em off.

The bomb kills all the Nazis who are hanging him.

The beam that he's being hung from breaks.

An AA gun on the train is hit by a bomb and goes haywire, taking out all the Nazis pursuing Indy.

Voller is knocked off the train by a signal post thing when he has Indy dead to rights.

A bomb knocks out the train track, crashing the treasure train in a way that leaves all the artifacts intact.

Indy does nothing to affect the outcome of any of these, he just has plot armor an inch thick.

-I know the opening of an Indy movie is a bit early for the supernatural to kick in, but there's a weird bit where the Nazis are after the Lance of Longinus, but it's both powerless and a fake. These are our antagonists? Indy could've stayed home and it would've changed nothing.

-And you have to compare this to the opening of Last Crusade, which was real people on a real set doing real stuff, as opposed to this, which is a CGI effect on a soundstage, not doing anything as memorable or original as River Phoenix did.

Speaking of good set-ups, you're saying this is a train full of looted historical treasures... why not have every train car have some crazy artifact inside it that complicates things? Like Indy runs through a boxcar and it's full of Greek statues and he has to avoid getting crushed by them and he knocks one over to squash a Nazi and one falls over and it breaks through the wall and he uses that in some way? Wouldn't that be tons of fun?

But this is just anemic 'running from the top of one boxcar to another boxcar' stuff. All the advances in special effects technology since Last Crusade came out and yet there's way less spectacle. Even the train derailing at the end is an anticlimax.

#indiana jones #Youtube

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently Watching - August

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 31.08.2023

Here you can find my weekly roundup that goes into a bit more detail about each episode.

And a little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

I am always happy about gif-requests. If you want a special scene, just let me know.

Here you can find all of my gifs.

And if you want to show me something you think I might like, just let me know with #josistag

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in August with MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. Dangerous Romance (Ep 2/12 on Youtube)

I really liked the first episode. Well, I hated most of the parts, because of the whole bullying, but it feels like a really good enemies to lovers story and I am weak for this shit. There is way more bullying than I thought would be and it is really hard to watch at some points, but I love Sailom! He is such a clever badass!

2. Hidden Agenda (8/12 on Youtube)

Okay, I can smile a little bit watching this. Both of them have a hidden agenda and I kind of like Joke and his attempts to make Zo fall for him. And I like that we already know that Joke likes Zo. That makes everything...I don't know...a little bit cuter. And after the third episode I was finally all catched up and I am invested now! I like this show!

3. I feel you linger in the air (2/12 on Gaga)

Okay, I wanted to wait to binge watch, but I couldn't resist to sneak into the first episode and now I am obsessed! This time travel drama looks just so good and I love all the interactions between Jom and Yai! I am here for the fluff, but I guess I stay for the angst...

4. Jun & Jun (7/8 on Viki)

An office drama about Lee Jun and Choi Jun, who were childhood friends and who meet again after being seperated for years. The one an intern and the other one the director. I like those combinations, so I am looking forward to it. And the flirting is strong in this one! Just learned that it is rated PG 16...that explains a lot!

5. King the Land (10/16 on Netflix, no bl)

You know the feeling, you wake up in the morning and you're craving some good korean romance drama? That happend to me one day and so I just thought to give this a shot and it is good. Cheon Sa Rang works as a concierge at the King Of The Land Hotel and there she always has to wear a smile, fake or real doesn't matter. She meets the new boss in town Gu Won, who just can't stand fake smiles, but I guess her beautiful and real smile will make him fall head over heals.

6. Kiseki: Dear to me (3/13 on Viki)

The start is quite promising. I am looking forward to see more of the second couple. But for now I am pretty satisfied with this series, the plot and the characters.

7. Love Class Season 2 (6/10 on Viki)

I just wanted to watch one episode and see if I like it and now I am invested! This looks as this could be a really interesting story. I like the acting and the dialogues. I am curious how every story will progress. And yes, the epsiodes are way too short!

8. Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (9/12 on Gaga)

Minato and Shin are dating for three month now and it feels like we are back at the beginning of the first season. Minato is always surprised when Shin wants to exchange some affection or when he just wants to know if Minato likes him. And to be honest, if I was in his place, I would ask too, because right now it doesn't feel like Minato likes Shin. But with the second episode we finally get some of Minato's thoughts and it is cute and sad at the same time. The second episode totally got me and I am excited what there is to come!

9. Only Friends (3/10 on Youtube)

I have the deep urge to call it Only Fans... Can't see the difference. It is cringy... and funny... and yes, very hot. It was a wild start that just promise a wild ride! The most surprising thing for me: the plot wasn't that bad.

10. Stay Still (1/5 on Youtube)

Well this first episode was a little bit confusing. It felt like you've been thrown into the middle of the story. Perhaps I should watch episode 0, but why not make it the first episode? So Damien and Hayden start a new, complicated relationship and Archie and Kelvin restart their high school love. I like the flashbacks. Archie and Kelvin were cute together.

11. Taikan Yoho / My Personal Weatherman (2/8 on Viki and Gaga)

This has a very interesting vibe. Yoh is a manga-artist. Because his work is not that popular, he accepted a deal by his senior in college, now a well known weatherman. Yoh accepted to be Mizuki's slave. He does everything at home and obeys to the weatherman's wishes. And everytime there is a sunny forecast, they sleep together.

12. Wedding Plan (7/8 on iQiyi)

I knew I am going to have a problem as soon as I finished the trailer. And here I am...totally obsessed with this show! And we are on episode 1! Well, what happens when the Wedding Planner and the groom fall for each other? I don't know either, but I can't wait to find out!

13. Why R U (4/8 on Viki)

The korean version of the thai series Why R U that is so different than the original one. And I really like it! The characters are fun, the story is, well, not that special, but I like it, and over all I like the vibe of this one.

Finished in August

Series

1. Sing My Crush (8/8 on iQiyi)

Han Baram wants to quit making music after confessing to his first love and he got rejected. But he meets Im Hantae, who manage to befriend him and push him back on his way. The story skips a few years and lfe becomes complicated with plagiarism and a second wind. Such a beautiful story! I loved every minute of it! I love stories about arts like books, writing, dancing and of course music! And this is really good! A wholesome 10 out of 10 for me!

2. His Man Season 2 (14/14 on Gaga)

The korean dating show for gay people! I loved the first season and the second was so much better. There was so much drama, but also so many wholesome moments and discussions. And yes, I was and am a fan of the roommates! I loved how their relationship developed and the fact that those two are still dating is just 🥰 And thank you @leonpob for our weekly discussions about the show! I am looking forward to the third season 🥰 This is a 10 out of 10 for me.

3. Shigatsu no Tokyo wa... (8/8 on Gaga or Viki)

Kazuma and Ren were close friends during middle school and now meet again years later after their ways parted. This was a turbulent ride for us, but it was so good. I like the darker tones this bl had and how close it was to the original webtoon. This bl made me sad and happy and the ending was just so wholesome. It deals with some difficult topics, so watch with caution. But for me this is a 10 out of 10.

4. Be My Favorite (11/12 on Youtube)

When Kawi tries to travel back in time to change his life, it doesn't necessarily go in the direction he had in mind. But this series is so much more than just a time travel story. Kawi is like our inner voice of insecurities and inadequacies. And it is like healing a little bit watching him gaining a little bit more self confidence and self love. And the same goes for Pisaeng. His journey in self-acceptence and starting to live the life he wants and deserves is just so beautiful. This series just screams in your face to live the life you truly want like you would never want to travel back in time and change a decision. And that is such a strong message! And I love all the characters and their decisions and the growth all of them were going through. And I love that it is shown that we can't help everyone, because some things can't be changed. But we can try to be the best support, the best friend, the best child and also the best parent we can be. For me one of the easiest 10 out of 10!

5. Stay with me (22/24 on Gaga)

Okay, I was sceptical at first. This new adaptation of Addicted came out of nowhere for me. I really like the original adaptation, despite its flaws and toxic traits. But Stay With Me managed to be such a great show! I am lost for words at this point! The characters are all so well written, the story is so good and the actors really remind me of stubborn highschool students which is quite nice. The chemistry is off the roofs! It has an open ending, but more because the second season is confirmed and I can't wait! The dance the show had with the chinese censorship was beautiful! This is really not a bromance, it is a bl and I love it so much! One of the best watches this year! Yeah, this is a total 10 out of 10 for me.

Movie

1. Red, White and Royal Blue (on Prime)

I haven't read the book, yet. It sits on my Pile of Shame and wants to be read someday. The movie was... wobbly and rushed. Alex and Henry were cute together, later in the movie. In the beginning of their relationship, they were most of the times horny. But I liked them together. And at the same time it felt a little bit bland. I don't know how to express it... the chemistry lacked of emotional connection for me. There was not really character in the characters. They felt a little empty. So I will read the book soon, to get the emotional impact of everything going on. Don't get me wrong, I liked the movie. I had fun and was well entertained and the love story was cute. A 7,5 out of 10 for me.

Short Film

Rewatched in August

Dropped/On-Hold in August

1. See you in my 19th life (7/12 on Netflix, no bl)

It was so good when I started it, but I couldn't keep up with it and so I lost interest over time. I guess it would be different if I binge watched it. I know I won't come back here soon, so I just dropp it for now.

2. Low Frequency (3/8 on iQiyi)

Well, I really don't have the urge to watch this anymore. Perhaps I will come back to it, when it is finished airing, but right now...no thanks. The story is interesting, but I think it is a little bit to exhausting for me right now.

3. Dinosaur Love (8/10 on iQiyi)

Well this was a dumpster fire. It was fun to watch in the beginning, but after a few episodes it wasn't funny anymore. It was exhausting and nothing I was looking for in my weekly schedule. So, the conclusion was I dropp it. And I am fine with not knowing how it ended...

Looking forward to in August

Stay Still - Trailer (August 1st on Youtube)

Sing My Crush - Trailer (August 2nd on iQiyi)

Heartstopper Season 2 - Trailer (August 3rd on Netflix)

Taikan Yoho (My Personal Weatherman) - Trailer (August 11th on Gaga)

Love Class Season 2 - Trailer (August 11th on Viki)

Red, White & Royal Blue - Trailer (August 11th on Prime Video)

Only Friends - Trailer (August 12th on Youtube)

Dangerous Romance - Trailer (August 18th)

Love in Translation - Teaser (August 19th)

My Universe - Trailer (August 20th on iQiyi)

Kiseki: Dear to Me - Trailer (August 22nd on iQiyi and Viki)

Why R U? Korean Remake - Trailer (August 24th on iQiyi)

Man Suang - Trailer (August 24th in Thai Cinemas)

I Feel You Linger In The Air - Treaser - Pilot - Trailer (August 19th on Gaga)

Crazy Handsome Rich - Trailer (August 28th on Gaga)

#currently watching #monthly overview #masterlist #josi watching bl #bl series #bl drama #be my favorite #be my favorite the series #dinosaur love #hidden agenda #his man 2 #jun & jun #king the land #low frequency #minato shouji coin laundry 2 #shigatsu no tokyo wa... #stay with me the series #wedding plan #stay still #sing my crush #my personal weatherman #only friends the series #love class season 2 #red white and royal blue #kiseki: dear to me #why r u korea #i feel you linger in the air

[larkral]

Happy Wednesday, friends! Thanks for the tags @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus and @wellbelesbian!

I've been continuing to spend most of my writing time on ADA and editing/contemplating/touching up thereof. Which is not to say that I've been completely ignoring Simon's Mums AU. I am drilling deeper and deeper into that world, and it's a fascinating place to be. Enjoy some more of one of the mums' first glimpses into the WOM:

The magical government of the UK is called The Coven. (Truly, their naming choices are doing half the work of keeping their existence a secret. Anyone I told would laugh me out of town.) And conducts its business out of a comfortable suburban estate.  And it's not even a clever disguise for the home of the houses of parliament—the housekeeper, tells us that the lady of the house, Mrs. Wellbelove, and her daughter Agatha are in the solarium and will be happy to have Simon join them.  Agatha Wellbelove seems identical to every well turned out girl in Simon's class until the moment she sees him and runs over to pull him into whatever youthful misadventure she's pretending amongst the nasturtiums. At which point Nat lets out a scarcely-contained sob and I feel my heart stutter-step out of its typical tense dance.  Not since infancy has anyone ever enthusiastically approached Simon. Children shy away from him on the playground, classmates shove at him in line. Teachers pass him over for instruction, and store clerks pretend not to see him over their counters. Even Simon, usually stoic in new situations, is taken aback by Agatha's enthusiasm. He glances back at Nat, who props an encouraging smile below her teary eyes and waves him onward. 

I also wrote a very self indulgent director's commentary on the first chapter of Good at Something yesterday, so if you're of age, go ahead and read all my thoughts on this piece of smut I wrote. (And if you liked this -- more to come. I liked writing a loose meta on this chapter and will do at least one more, if not one for every chapter. I've been meaning to write a Good at Something meta for ages.)

Tags! My friends, you are nearly halfway through the week! If you have things to share, throw 'em my way. And if not, that's chill, you're still awesome. @stitchyqueer @thewholelemon @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @takitalks @artsyunderstudy @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @aroace-genderfluid-sheep​ @shrekgogurt @forabeatofadrum  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl​ @valeffelees @imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @j-nipper-95 @whogaveyoupermission

#wip wednesday #simon has two mums au #simon snow #carry on #agatha wellbelove #natalie shaw and zadie stephenson (those are the mums)

[foxes-that-run]

Death by a thousand cuts

DBATC is about missing an ex-love. Taylor told Elvis Duran and Ellen she wrote it after watching the film, “Someone Great”. She said her work was becoming less autobiographical (ala Folklore). The director said Clean had helped her through the break up that inspired the film. Lovely, except the film and song are not similar.

However, the film title “Someone Great” is very similar to “Something Great” a Haylor song Harry Styles wrote with Gary Lightbody for 1D. Lightbody worked on Red at the same time. Unlike the film, “Something Great” is referenced in DBATC, a clever clue that this song is about Harry.

Lyrics

[Chorus] Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts Flashbacks waking me up I get drunk, but it's not enough ’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby I look through the windows of this love Even though we boarded them up Chandelier's still flickering here ’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not It's death by a thousand cuts

DBATC is about being reminded of a lost love causing small heartbreaks over and over again.

Taylor has flashbacks to a love is in Red. While lots of Red is about Harry the song was written before they met. Red is a key reference for the Lover Album though and Daylight, which is about Harry. She also says he comes back in flashes in the IKYWT video intro.

Taylor also sings about getting drunk to forget Harry in Cruel Summer and Hits Different. Harry sings of getting drunk to be able to talk to Taylor in Fine Line, Satellite and has in interviews also.

The imagery of boarded up windows and chandelier flickering is a lovely phrasing for still having a flame for a past love. This Love also refers to a flickering light inside.

[Verse] I dress to kill my time, I take the long way home I ask the traffic lights if it'll be alright They say, "I don't know" And what once was ours is no one's now I see you everywhere, the only thing we share Is this small town You said it was a great love, one for the ages But if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

'Take the long way home' is a reference to Wish You Would. Harry and Taylor live close in NY, WYW was in LA (both since sold) and London! I don’t wanna live forever: “Now I'm in a cab, I tell 'em where your place is”

'What was once ours is no one’s now' breaks my heart, the whole world was part of their relationship, but now it’s not even theirs :(

You said it was a great love is a reference to Something Great.

Still writing pages is similar to a line in New Years Day where she implored him to not read the last page. One of the 1989 TV Vault Tracks also refers to their love as a book.

[Bridge] My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you too much, but it wasn't enough But I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts

the line about touching her whole life is interesting line because Harry is unique in staying friends with Taylor after breaking up and sharing music.

In Meet me in the Hallway, he likened getting over Taylor to a heroin addiction, saying “gotta get better / give me some morphine.” Taylor did the same in Clean.

Searching a haunted club is a reference to Hits different and Ready for it?

“Our songs/films/united” to me is referring to their shared passions, and how much they have in common.

Our country is not a literal country. Taylor and Harry have referred to each other, their circle and industry as a town. I read the lawless land is similar to “no rules in breakable heaven” in Cruel Summer.

In New Years Day Harry squeezed her hand in a taxi to assure her, this quieting her fears.

The paper cuts refers to Something Great: “The script was written and I could not change a thing / I want to rip it all to shreds and start again” Something great is about a belief that one day they’d be together again. Together with the NYD reference she is saying she feel stung by not being back together.

[Outro] I take the long way home I ask the traffic lights if it'll be alright They say, "I don't know"

Taylor ends the song with driving around, thinking of the lost love and looking for clues anywhere, even traffic lights, it’s such a lonely line to end on

Fine Line also ends with Harry declaring “we’ll be alright”

#haylor #lover album