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cclumsyart · 1 year

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Inspector Shine

#jedediah shine #joseph mawle #ripper street #inspector shine #fanart #procreate

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joanyio · 4 months

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TOP 9 DRAMAS I WATCHED IN 2023

inspector koo (2021) - everyone here is a different flavor of fruit, crime show exclusively made for girls and gays and it’s the best thing that ever happened to me

when i fly towards you (2023) - this is what happiness is all about

doom at your service (2021) - “love me to the point that you want to destroy the world for me” that’s it that’s the line

love all play (2022) - wfkbj for people who aren’t annoying

little women (2022) - second half felt like a makjang damn the writers were spiraling and i couldn’t stop watching (gay little women i love you)

twinkling watermelon (2023) - worth the hype

bloodhounds (2023) - i remember my letterboxd post for this saying you can almost smell the testosterones through the screen but it was absolutely binge worthy, kinda homo if you ask me!

daily dose of sunshine (2023) - park boyoung is the loveliest human being

law school (2021) - is it insane to beg for a season 2 the chance is low but nonzero… right?

HONORABLE MENTIONS

hidden love (2023) - im tired of people saying the word chemistry about the main couple but it’s true they invented it

designated survivor: 60 days (2019) - maybe political dramas aren’t always badly written, also han nakyung please give me a chance

celebrity (2023) - user joanyio stop finding invisible gay subtext in every show you watch challenge failed

the good bad mother (2023) - such a gem *continues to ignore mommy issues*

time and him are just right (2022) - cute and perfect for mindless watching in the background while you do other work

the worst of evil (2023) - instead of forcing the love triangle turned love square the writers should have made all four hot main characters make out with each other it would have been perfect

and because of love all play (2022), see also:

castaway diva (2023), witch’s diner (2021), and unlock my boss (2022) (although i haven’t finished this one yet) chae jonghyeop is my new lee dohyun (read: male actor i enjoy watching multiple projects of simply because he doesn’t give me the ick). i also rewatched hot stove league (2020) for park eunbin and jonghyeop after castaway diva, still one of the all time best dramas i remember it used to be my twitter handle years ago baseball is so cool i wish it was real

DRAMAS I STARTED LATE DECEMBER 2023 AND FINISHED EARLY JANUARY 2024

shining for one thing (2022) - please don’t watch this show it was made only for me and i’d like to gatekeep it forever

reset (2022) - never watched a drama execute time loop plot device as perfectly as this did

UNFINISHED BUT PLANNING TO CONTINUE SOON

derailment (2023) - i was baited by a tiktok i thought it’d be a cute silly little high school drama but boy was i surprised

one day off (2023) - she’s living the dream

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evmorfiad · 1 year

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I touch your lips and all at once the sparks go flying

Those devil lips that know so well the art of lying

And though I see the danger, still the flame grows higher

I know I must surrender to your kiss of fire

Just like a torch, you set the soul within me burning

I must go on, I'm on this road of no returning

And though it burns me and it turns me into ashes

My whole world crashes without your kiss of fire

I can't resist you, what good is there in trying?

What good is there denying you're all that I desire?

Since first I kissed you, my heart was yours completely

If I'm a slave, then it's a slave I want to be

Don't pity me, don't pity me

————————————————————————

Graphics and Gifs by our gem that is @joemawle

#I’m a slave #detective inspector jedediah shine #jedidiah shine #ripper street #joseph mawle #Spotify #tango del fuego #parov stelar

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joemawle · 2 years

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Pure as the Driven Ripper Street, Season 2 Episode 1

#ripper street #jedediah shine #inspector jedediah shine #joseph mawle #rs #gif #joemawle

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minilev · 1 year

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Any Joseph Mawle recommendations? Or any lesser known movies or shows he's in that you like? :)

My mind started to mix him with Brahms after I watched The Hallow (2015), horror where he runs around so tall and sweaty👀

Soundproof really shows his talent, but the movie might be hard to find.

#have Women in Love waiting on my drive for the right mood #but tbh i watch him in other roles just to get more references #he's Inspector Jedediah Shine for me and i don't really want anything else

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Ok but imagine price being a dockworker and coming to the bar the reader is a server at after long days. Smelling like the salt on salt, chest hair peeking thru his shirt. She knows his exact order down to how much froth he wants on his beer and he just melts into his chair once he sees her on shift but their asses won’t even kiss yet (they wanna fuck diiiirty in between all the barrels out back tho)

Thank you so much for the ask!! I wish I got more of these <3 I love impromptu writings!! ^_^

MDNI

Somehow, you knew it was him by the sound of your door. The way that it creaked and popped, and the force with which it knocked the tinkling little bell at the top - all of these noises were the same, or at least they should have been, no matter who was coming or going from your bar. The way the metal bolt clicked out of the frame, the way the warped wood of the threshold whined and bent, the way that one pane of glass shuddered in the top left corner... it shouldn't have sounded different when he walked in. But, it did.

He sat in his seat, objectively the worst one in your bar. It was out of the line of sight from the television, and it was down at the fruit-filled service end, far from the keg taps. It was where you ran credit cards and kept your phone to take breaks, and you flattered yourself that the reason he sat there was to spend time with you.

John Price was a piece of work, that was for sure. He would come by right before close and linger. It was nice to have someone walk you to your car, especially on cold nights, since you were so close to the docks. He'd ride his old Triumph over from his work as a shipping and receiving foreman in the harbor, and he'd smell like sweat and the salt from the sea. His clothes would reek of tobacco from those fat cigars he'd always smoke, and you knew his beard would smell like it, too.

You wondered what it felt like, his beard. You wondered if it was as soft as it looked. You wondered what he would say if you asked him to give you a ride back to his place on that old, worn-out bike and lay you on his bed so he could kiss you from behind that beard all night. You wondered, over and over when you lay in your own sheets alone, what it would feel like for him to drag that rough-shaven chin over the swell of your breast. How would it feel on the insides of your thighs? Would it hurt you?

"You want the usual?" You asked him, trying your best to concentrate on shining the glass in your hand and not about having his body between your legs.

He smiled up at you and nodded,

"Sure, love. The usual."

As you poured his lager, keeping a little extra foam at the top, just how he liked it, you caught yourself staring again.

It was cold out, so he was in a thick coat, but he never had his collar buttoned up. There was always a bit of his chest on view for you through the drab plaid shirts he wore. He had a cut tonight, and you could see it soaking through the white of his undershirt.

"You okay, John?" You set his beer down and motioned to his gash.

"Oh," he chuckled warmly, "Yeah. Just got a little too close to the off-loader crane and paid for it. No harm, really."

"Let me clean it up for you. C'mon," you opened the bar's side door and lifted it so he could duck underneath, taking his beer with him and following you upstairs to your office.

Your barback would take care of the two other patrons you had. It was a Tuesday after midnight. You could close without any harm done.

As John wandered into your space, he noticed your makeshift cot in the corner.

"Surely you're not sleepin' at work, love?"

You laughed a little nervously,

"Don't tell the health inspector on me. Have a seat in that chair. Lemme get the first-aid kit."

He sat. Your heart pounded in your throat. As you dug around for the kit, you felt your nerves fraying. Maybe you liked John a little more than you thought.

"Here. Alright, can you show me the cut?"

You knelt in front of him so you could be in line with the wound. You tried to clean it, but his clothes were getting wet.

"Oh, sorry. Uh -"

"Here, love," he shucked his jacket off and peeled his shirt off from his back, leaving it around his arms, pinned in the sleeves, "That better?"

You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

He was huge. It was almost monstrous, the way his body bulged out around his bones, enormous snapping muscles rolling around his shoulders and neck, making him look like an animal. He was covered in soft, brown fur, and as you went to touch him, you made a grave mistake.

You hesitated.

Ever observant, you knew he caught you stumbling over him, frozen in place like a scared doe. But, mercifully, he said nothing, and allowed you to get to work.

Clean. Dry. Salve. Bandage. Smooth the edges. Make an excuse to do it again, once more to seal it down.

"There, all done. You have been a very brave patient," you smiled up at him and went to box up the supplies back in their little tin.

"You know," he purred, "Brave patients usually get some sort of prize."

You laughed softly,

"Fresh out of lollies and peppermints, I'm afraid."

"Sure there isn't anything else you'd offer me to suck on, love?"

His voice was low, dark, and deep. It crawled to you on its belly from the bottom of the sea, from the pressures and the cold, black hell of the fathoms of the water, lapping at the sides of your boat, threatening to sink you. He looked at you like a tiger shark studies a diver, with a chilling curiosity from the mighty to the fragile, wondering what you taste like and deciding if he'll bite.

John's arms were still bound by his clothes. If you wanted to flee, you would've had plenty of head-start. But, you didn't. You were moving outside of your own volition. It was as if you were dreaming, watching yourself be piloted by an unknown force. You stared him down and stood, stepping right between his knees, forcing him to look up at you and wait for your reply.

You peeled off your white tee shirt, revealing your bare breasts to him. Going bra-less meant usually meant more tips, but tonight you weren't concerned about the money. You wanted him to praise you. You wanted to call his bluff. You wanted him to fuck you on the stack of kegs in the corner of your office and let the sharp metal rims dig into your belly as he stuffed his cock into you from behind.

His shirts were gone from his arms in a second, and he leaned forward just enough to put his face to your breast, letting you feel the heat of his breath on your skin, sighing into you. John held your eyes captive in his the whole time, as if he may look away and break the spell. Then, he watched you watch him take your nipple into his mouth, suckling on it as gently as he possibly could, as gently as anyone had ever done.

You trembled, letting go of a breath you'd been holding, looking down at him as he sucked your flesh between his wet lips. You were right about the smell of the tobacco.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #ask me anything #careful what you ask for #because my answer is usually smut

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sugojosgf · 1 month

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pussy inspector nanamin,,,

he'd come back from work, eyes drooping and shoulder's relaxed. his black shirt, stretched over his cramping muscles as he casually walks over to your shared bed. he smiles to himself when he sees you clad in a pretty leopard print slip, that has ridden over your plump ass.

he slowly lifts your dress higher and finds the valley of your thighs covered in your juices and a soft scowl adorns his face when he realises he was too late for his pretty girl.

now of course, he has to check if his sweetheart hurt herself trying to get off without his help so he lowers his face to your cunt and spreads your lips apart, your glistening clit shining like a pearl in the moonlight.

he licks his lips as he enters a single finger into your soft hole, to see if you injured yourself inside. making his finger grind into you, as he checks your clenching walls.

his ears don't miss your quiet whines for more, so he adds in another finger to see how much you've loosened your own hole.

he smirks as he sees your sleeping body grind against his thick fingers. dropping his entire body on the bed, he licks from your perineum to clit so he can taste, to see if it tastes like it usually does.

he pulls back noticing something amiss so he pulls out his cock and slips it in between your lips.

he uses you, not penetrating just so he could coat your dumb pussy with his cum. so it tastes like it always does, so it tastes like him. he groans quietly when he realises he is near. he spreads apart your lips and paints your puffy cunt white.

using his sticky cum, he brings you close to your orgasm as he pinches your clit meanly, waking you up with tears brimming in your eyes.

"silly girl, you need my cock to get there right ?"

#somnophilia #pussy inspection #jjk #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanamin #got me so soaked 〰⋆｡˚#fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☁︎#dark content (づど)#nanamin me 🧈

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hwaightme · 2 months

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Feel alive

(masterlist) (taglist)

🌑 pairing: strictland!seonghwa x gn!singer!reader 🌑 genre: fluff, angst, dystopian, sci-fi, noir, music, lovers to enemies to lovers 🌑 summary: after escaping the confines of prestige academy you find yourself singing at 'morpheus' - an underground bar and club for strictland outcasts. except this reality, too, crumbles before you. your fate is again in the hands of the same man, and you are forced to ask yourself: what does it mean to 'feel alive'? 🌑 wordcount: 9.5k total 🌑 warnings/tags: semi-edited, authoritarian regime (strictland/z/universe z), lore-inspired, guns/gunshots, implied attack on club, implied violence, crime, alcohol/drinking, implied organised criminal networks, discussions about death/murder/execution, nihilism/existentialism, 'bout as dark as the diary entries, long lost lovers, starcrossed, hope, blue bird, jazz, uprisings 🌑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🌑 a/n: noir hwa, ateez synthwave song quartet, and lore ponderings. hope you enjoyed <3 any notes, reblogs, comments, asks are always welcome! much love!

The lights dimmed, and it was as if the jazz bar never existed in the first place. The worn seats occupied by drunks who liked to pretend they had taste, sofas in the far corner reserved for big shots and well-established scum with pretty young accessories on either arm, the bar that sold everything under the rays of the dying sun and evil moon, it all disappeared with the dawn of the spotlight falling upon your alluring silhouette. A simple, yet elegant sleek black dress with a hint of shimmer that graced your curves seemed to shine in the glimmering illumination. The delicate silver accessories were stars in the hypnotising sky, the allure of an unreachable universe becoming overwhelming as your hands glided over the length of the microphone to find purchase on the stand. The music, starting from a low rumble, was an echo of the abyss surrounding you, manifested only at the softest inhale. After what could have been the drums and trumpet, or could have been the heavens announcing the beautiful singer’s presence finished their spontaneous introduction, Seonghwa had the pleasure of forgetting his purpose, at least for as long as the song lasted. He could drift into a sultry paradise, seduced by what had to be a siren’s call, and regard the customers of the Morpheus bar with something less than loathing.

As soon as he cleared the last of the russet coloured drink he had ordered in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar, shutting his eyes momentarily to focus on the warmth of the alcohol running down his throat, Seonghwa found the fingers of his right hand softly drumming out the song in accompaniment, each digit hitting one note, another, again and again. Back in the day, it had not been often that his visits to the bar occurred at the same time as the one and only Y/N’s performances, but when they did, he swore he could see the smog clear and tomorrow become a certainty. The music consumed him whole and even though he knew down to the second when the magic would be extinguished, a part of him still retained the hope that the spell would never be broken. Not when the only encore he could guarantee for himself was another torturous raid on an establishment such as this one, or another feverish witch hunt for those who had regained their ability to feel and to think freely. All in the name of a faceless leader who even Seonghwa himself had only met a handful of times despite being in a high ranking position of Guardian Inspector - above the standard white-clad machines, above the so-called officials clad in military uniform, he was in charge of ‘keeping civil hands clean’. At what cost? Perhaps his own emotions were the price.

The dark-haired man caught himself wondering how many people in this bar could enjoy themselves to the fullest. How many of these poor unfortunate souls that succumbed to the rush for easy money and easy love were true followers of hedonism, and were spending their days in an enviable bliss? Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa regarded his surroundings with a subtle scorn. He was well aware that he was to blame for it all too; The regime, to retain the ultimate, unwavering control over the citizens, even those who wholeheartedly believed they were well-hidden from the authoritarian judgement, was a supplier of one of the many pleasures after all - toying with people's weakness before the formidable seven sins only to lead them into full submission. The Strictland government, despite propagating ‘human emotion being a disease’ had anything anyone could ever desire, and Seonghwa was one of the many agents to guarantee long term partnerships, addiction to the illusion of a better life, and most importantly, stability and security for the people who had taken him in all that time ago when no one else would, and had given him a chance.

While he was the bringer of demise, the counter of profits drenched in crushing dread and the hand of twisted and subjective justice, at the same time, Seonghwa believed that it gave him all the more right to judge the society he was a part of. After all, he was not the one being fooled. Inevitably, his glimmering orbs settled back on the singer’s gently swaying form as they broke into the chorus, and nearly shuddered as your gaze, from languid, half-lidded but oh so appealing eyes, met his, only for a split second but it was as if hellfire itself embraced him and greeted him like an old lover. Each lyric - a personal address as you moved along at a sensual pace, the song smoother than the most expensive silk. He smirked to himself as he caught his ponderings accelerating uncontrollably, attempting to squash them under a sober, calculating fist. You were no fool either. An entertainer, measuring out each attack like a venomous serpent, not threatened, seeking fun in the reveal of vulnerability of your listeners - each one believed that you existed for them and them alone, and in the hypnotic state added bill after bill to their already hefty tips in the hopes that at least some would reach you, and you would give them that beautiful smile, maybe something more. Truly, a shame that the owner of Morpheus owed the regime a lot more than all the tips, so-called donations and what, compared to the rest of the money, was "honest" earnings all combined. The Captain of the Inspectors in charge of this little project had gotten a little too nice as of late, at least that was what Seonghwa had concluded, but it was not him who was going to pay for it, naturally.

Twisting his head, Seonghwa took note of the familiar faces that appeared at the entrance to Morpheus to join the rest of the Inspectors that were posing as regular customers, cleverly dispersed among the filth that reeked of dependence. Of course, dependence on what the regime was selling. There was no other way about it. Nodding the two men a curt hello, Seonghwa let his eyes trace back a swift path to the magnificent performance. He paid attention to how your dainty earrings glinted even in the lowered light, and how, with every subtle movement, he could see the gorgeous dress tighten just a little around your body. You were so out of place in this scene, an angel in the darkest pits of hell, a little bird struggling against the wiring of a cage, curling inwards, growing smaller until the last flutter of the wings. As he was caught up in admiring your beautiful style, grace, and listening to your sweet, warm tone, one of the two newcomers, a fellow brother in governmental salvation to Seonghwa, tapped him lightly on the shoulder and occupied the seat beside him.

“As flashy as ever, Woo. Might as well tattoo ‘trouble’ on your forehead,” he motioned towards his not so inconspicuous suit that made him look more like a mafioso rather than an average joe. Seonghwa had to admit, however, that the outfit looked too damn good on him, but this was going to be just one of those things he was to take to his grave. The man did not need his ego fed any more than what the ladies he finds as company for the less busy nights not hounded by the lower ranking Guardians provide.

“I’d carve a pretty smile on that face. Not even a hello?”

“Hi San,” Seonghwa deadpanned, looking past his friend who he noted had tied his hair into a low ponytail, and right at the other half of his duo. Wooyoung and San, two peas in a pod, and probably the last people one would ever wish to see if they were in trouble with any of the Inspectors.

“Aren’t you mean today… what, pretty star over there didn’t give you attention?” Wooyoung retorted with a smirk creeping onto his lips. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shake of the head, Seonghwa dismissed any thoughts of peace that he had been imagining, settling back to regular business.

Rolling his shoulders back, he let the scene come and envelop him. It was no coincidence that so many of the Inspectors had gathered, especially with Wooyoung and San now closing in the arrivals. It did not take a genius to guess that Captain had changed his terms, and this was no longer going to be an ordinary shakeout for money or customary information gathering from the owner of Morpheus. The owner had stalled for far too long, had strayed from ‘good practices’ of a loyal rat, and it was time to set an example for others. Disease was the human emotion, and this bar was a breeding ground for thought crime, was it not?. Lowly, lonely creatures who gathered here were all examples of where society had gone astray from the perfect vision Z had put forward, at least… most were. Those who had forgotten the meaning of feeling despite having regained the ability, those, to Seonghwa, were the true vermin. He regarded the few gathered who were most definitely not meant to be part of this story. A middle aged, haggard man with flushed cheeks and what had to be his fifth glass of the cheapest liquor on the menu. Some bigshot from another town who he recalled some of the Inspectors in charge of patrolling the area identifying this morning - no ties, no money, just a lot of ambition that was to amount to nothing. A few lowlives here and there who were faceless, in shades of grey. All not meant to be here, and yet by some stroke of fate, here they were to remain. Finally, he drifted back to the main act, still at the centre of the stage, the sole luminance among the tainted - those who had no hope in making Seonghwa feel anything but numbness. You were the only one working here. Earning your meagre pay - he had discreetly checked the bar’s balance books when the old man behind the counter was too distracted to care for a person of his kind strolling into his office that was concealed in a dark corridor. It was shameful how you were still in this far less than grand establishment, sharing your angelic vocals, despite obviously not having any compensation nor appreciation of your efforts. Perhaps the moments on stage were the only time when you felt alive; the thought would not leave Seonghwa. After much investigation playing pretend, he was confident in his conclusion: you had not changed.

You were on the tattered poster plastered up outside - the one and only, shows every Friday night. Perceive and behold the spectacular ethereal being as you sang songs that spun threads out of a spectator’s very soul, blood trickling from the cracks in their shattered form turning to gold. You sang their… his pain, promised him his glory, soothed and comforted him. Seonghwa was well aware that you were the sole reason that he had shifted his visits to Morpheus to this particular day of the week and monitored the illegal location so closely, otherwise, your face would never grace his corrupt, bleak vision. You did not deserve to go with the rest. When breaking free, one was not supposed to fall into another trap, and yet, here you were. You were not meant to be here, littering the ground that you stood on as the last of the gunpowder would settle on your perfect skin, your long, alluring eyelashes. The onyx-haired man felt a shift within himself as he mused the outcome of the unspoken plans - by the way in which Wooyoung leaned back onto the counter, a grin dancing on his features and by the way San was acting particularly kindhearted to the lonely staff who was rushing about, struggling to keep up with the visitors’ habits, he knew that tonight, they were not planning on hearing any cries for mercy. They were here to complete a mission for a higher purpose. And that mission was far from the sweet music which he had loved his whole life, and finally found again.

“They’re not supposed to be here.” he mumbled, his voice obscured by yours, echoing across and elevating to a sensual culmination.

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Think of them as a sculpture or something if it makes things easier,” Wooyoung took out a rolled up bill to put between his lips - a habit that he had formed after a few too many hits on the back of his head by San, an interesting approach to make a man quit smoking. He called it ‘smoking capitalism’, earning quite a few chuckles from the Inspectors, Seonghwa included.

“So say someone’s going to scope the ring to clean it up a bit, would you let them hit our favourite auntie?” he asked, referring to the friendly cleaner who was probably the only one in the entire city who did not bat an eye at the violent matches that Wooyoung managed under the wraps for the regime, instead cooing over the fighters he brokered for and giving the men an extra helping of her home-cooked delicacies. In many ways, she was a mother figure for the Guardian Inspectors, despite her being at risk, every day, of being taken to the Red Humans should one of them be in a ‘different kind of mood’ on an arbitrary morning.

“Definitely not. But this singer. Who are they to you?”

“A pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Mhm. I can pawn them in for rewards.”

“Suppose they are pretty enough, if that’s what you’re thinking of…”

“Goodness, take the pimp out of the bordello but can’t take the bordello out of the pimp. That business was shut a while back for you, no?” with a groan, Seonghwa retaliated at Wooyoung’s rather out of pocket suggestions. Over the many years of serving Z in not so ethical ways, the man had tried on a few too many hats and seen a few too many hats to retain even a sliver of compassion towards anyone except those closest. It was understandable. Odd, but understandable.

“Kidding. But for real though, what’s the use?” Wooyoung bit down on the bill softly, gaze following San who had moved towards a couple of underlings that had gathered in a booth off to the side, towards the far corner of the bar. Clearly, he was checking if they had read the room.

“Say, isn’t it Captain’s niece’s birthday soon? We don’t exactly have a musical act to hand since…” Seonghwa trailed off, knowing that Wooyoung knew what incident he was referring to, involving an accusatory phrase, a short temper and a very professional shot from a sniper rifle from the boss’s office window into the temple of a figure that was storming away from one of the many Inspector accommodations. Another one to fertilise the soil with.

“Smart. I’ll give it to ya. If you sort the business out before showtime, pretty thing’s all yours.” Wooyoung responded, patting his side where, underneath his shirt, Seonghwa knew was a holstered pistol. Pushing himself away from the counter he stood up, adjusting his long, leather coat and glove. It was not that he had a particular preference, but ever since entering the new life upon being pardoned for feeling, a life where he had to say found a home, he could not help but wish to always look just that little bit more put together, even if only to appear loyal.

“Cheers. I’ll get them a nice candle-lit dinner to soften them up and then inform Cap’,” sounding purposefully sarcastic, Seonghwa mumbled under his nose, well aware that this was not a method that had ever been in use. One glower and curt phrase had always been enough - the rest was simply the heart’s doing masked by odd humour.

“Awh, look at you, how sweet and lovely. What a darling,” Wooyoung teased, sending Seonghwa a wink. The music was fading away, the last notes landing on his ears, marking every moment.

“One more word and you’ll be the main course.” with his index finger he poked the centre of his fellow Inspector’s chest in threat, maintaining a cold expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to be roasting out here tonight, so make it hot with pretty thing.”

“Filth,” the taller man spat, knowing that attempting to counter his friend was nearly impossible - out of all the people he knew only Captain could fully round him in, and even then Wooyoung had a smile on his face, much to Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s not me who is with the heart eyes.”

“I just saw an opportunity,” playing with the leather piece that buttoned up to protect his neck, he eyed you, waiting for you to finish. Unknown to you, you did not have much time left before your very life would be placed on a scale and thoughtlessly pushed to lose against the weight of usual Strictland business. Such was the violent, catastrophic illusion of order, such was the structure that had been Seonghwa’s twisted saving grace. He was going to be doing you a favour by taking you away, won’t he? Either way, you would be out of work, and he was helping you with a little job search from one of the highest payers - chivalrous and kind hearted, that was who he was. How else could the Inspectors form any partnerships and feast on forbidden fruit otherwise? Who was he kidding - a soul like you was not meant for a life like this. But he had to try. He needed time to think.

“Sure. Sure. An opportunity to grab the gorgeous star for yourself.”

“Oh shut up will you?” snapping, Seonghwa were desperately trying to cut the conversation short, seeing the window for him to make a beeline for the edge of the stage, towards which you promptly setting off after finishing your set, and receiving a dismal lack of applause - what else would he expect from the crowd gathered in Morpheus? Especially when the stench of iron and the final judgement was mere minutes away from materialising.

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be good. Hope you did not block my mustang,” throwing one last comment behind him, the solemn man was off, only barely catching Wooyoung’s half-hearted response.

“Have I ever…”

The mission was simple. Since he was dismissed from the less than pleasant task of wiping out the bar, considering that two more senior Inspectors had made their appearance and were clearly more in the know of what was brewing, Seonghwa had only a couple of minutes before all freedom would cease to exist. And then, no heaven could bestow mercy upon neither him, nor the beauty he had come here to save for no logical reason, instead relying on some hazy version of hope and nostalgia. He had parked his ink black ride around the block - out of sight for unwanted eyes, and perfectly positioned for getaways just like this. If you could catch the Inspector’s drift, that was. One could only pray that the dazzler on stage was just as dazzling when it came to reading between the lines. He had perhaps even less than the estimated time to explain himself before Wooyoung and San would call the owner over to get the real evening show started. Time was ticking along with the skyrocketing pace of his heart as he stopped you on your tracks with a slightly outstretched leg, only to move forward and cast a shadow over you.

It was difficult to remain level-headed when, even at such proximity, in the normally less than flattering lighting, you were nothing short of a deity. Something out of fairy tales, stories of royalty or angels in kingdoms far far away, those that were not supposed to exist. But here was one, staring right into his eyes with your beautiful expressive orbs, as deep as the history that Seonghwa had raced here to try and reignite. A universe in your irises, an all-consuming black hole in your pupils, beckoning Seonghwa, leading him into a stupor before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, bringing himself out of the momentary trance by force. Time was not on his side, and he knew that it would never be unless he kept on running.

“Lovely song, that was.”

“Indeed. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ is one of my favourites. Did you enjoy the performance?” Your speaking voice was different, of course, but nonetheless struck that stunning familiar chord within Seonghwa, one that should never see the light of day if he were to remain how he had to be. It was terrifying, how he was ready to let go of his resurrected image as an Inspector for a chance to turn the past into the present.

You were polite. The features of your alluring face were hinting at a genuine interest, an appreciation of every movement, every breath you were taking. Though, in Seonghwa’s own line of work, particularly in the stage of undercover investigation, this was simply the usual. Show a smile, bat the eyelashes, make business, disappear. Genuine interest was an artform, but even if you were indeed expressing it in the way with which he was familiar, it felt so natural that he almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe this daydream who had come to change the colours of his occasional Fridays, his hunts for those straying from what Z had deemed ‘right’, leaving glimmers of memory to last him through the weeks when he had to be numb to life itself until he could come and see you again. It did not mean much to you, most likely. You were strangers in your respective new lives, and had Captain not made the decision to teach the owner of Morpheus a lethal lesson, you would have remained that way. Drifting together for a few hours, remaining distant, and drifting apart again. A forever flowing story that was to rekindle a starcrossed ‘once upon a time’ but never have that sought after resolution. A dream that reminded Seonghwa of why his unlikely survival was a blessing. As your eyes revealed a hopefulness, a plea for praise, Seonghwa gave you a soft smile.

“Of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you, you know.”

“O-oh?” Seonghwa could barely contain his surprise, the previously cool demeanour cracking into a raised eyebrow. Could you remember?

“Yes! You always sit at the bar, second stool from the left. And order… what is it… a brandy, right?”

He would be lying if he were to say he was not surprised by your suddenly chipper attitude. Almost like you were a kid who entered a candy shop for the first time to see all of your favourite treats, you excitedly revealed to Seonghwa your observations. While it was endearing to see, the shuffling behind him, along with the idea that he was not the only one intently observing left the Inspector with a sense of unease, nearly throwing him off from the initial goal that motivated him to brave talking to you in the first place.

“In…deed?”

The singer, who was previously an astounding yet distant figure captivating all who cared to look even once, rapidly transitioned into someone who he almost found endearing, the keeper of far too many qualities that cemented the rightness of his decision. You were not meant to be here, he repeated to himself. Mutters around the bar were getting louder, and as the rest of the musicians filed out of the main hall and crammed into a tiny room off to the side, in Seonghwa’s peripherals he noted San’s steady, seemingly innocent amble between the scuffed round tables and equally unpleasantly antique chairs.

“You are the only one who listens, so, how could I not notice? Actually, I wanted to talk to you properly, or at least say thank you but didn’t want to impose.”

As much as he wanted to sink into the warmth of your words and allow you to recognise him on your own accord, the rippling commotion that was finally rearing its ugly head spurred him on and struck his heart with an icy, calculating mace. He had a minute tops, knowing Wooyoung’s love for never counting down to zero before beginning.

“Well, let’s talk. Outside,” The black-clad man tried to walk off, aiming for the dark corridor at the end of which was the fire exit, but when you did not move, rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking I could buy you a drink-”

“Cute. Another time though,” seeing the tinge of disappointment in your gaze was new, and entirely unexpected, but gave Seonghwa plenty of leeway to sway you into following him, “since you watched me enough, I bet you can guess who I am. Or, what I do for work. Right?”

A steely glare, leaving nothing open to interpretation. For additional evidence, he demonstratively adjusted his coat, loosening the belt he had tied around his waist to reveal a leather holster, discreet, gun always within reach. Attentive to detail as ever, you took note of the inconspicuous design of the pistol before he let it disappear once again under the fabric - in this city, there were few who had access to any form of weaponry, the items being so highly regulated by the government that it was nearly impossible to purchase or get licensing. Your mind began to list off options; Seonghwa clearly was neither a standard Android Guardian due to the lack of mandatory uniform, nor a scruffy criminal whom you had gotten used to over the time that had passed, nor part of the police force, nor a Class 2 Prestige Academy student. It only left an answer that shook you to the core. Of course, it was not that you did not hold the assumption in your heart. As a matter of fact, you had previously assumed that you were used to greeting people from different walks of life, all gathered in the same place, at the same time for what you wanted to believe was a ‘good time’. That was what drove you to live the life that you were living. Exist in this space, despite your pay and your security almost always not being enough, but you would give even that up if that meant you could keep your freedom.

Seonghwa was effortlessly graceful, determined in every step and gesture, not a single movement wasted. In a sense, it was as if he had purposefully learned and memorised the most efficient adjustments of the body, letting himself metamorphose into a lithe, agile animal. It was terrific, and terrifying, how at any moment he could pounce, and you would never know when until it was too late. For this hint of a reason, you decided to follow the man’s unspoken command, only whispering an airy inquiry after the other musicians, which he coldly dismissed:

“You need a better band anyways.”

---

The gravity of the situation only began to settle in when the biting breeze outside of the stuffy bar hit you, seeking opportunity to tousle your locks. The strands that had managed to fall over your face were trembling, the only sign revealing your suppressed distress as the last of Morpheus's dusk-like illumination was shut from your vision with a confident slam. Your eyes widened as you watched the Inspector, or in other words, your personal grim reaper, flip a lock on the door - previously thought to be inaccessible to anyone except the owner, done so masterfully as though he were the one who had installed it in the first place. An exit, a saving grace for innocents inside, turned into a dead end - more symbolic than one would ever initially assume. He trailed up the length of his arm stopping for a moment at the material that covered his shoulder, listening to leather hit leather. Seonghwa could only find calculated resolve within himself. This was the usual for him, and that after weighing all the options, he had logically come to the conclusion that the demise of the people inside was indeed the most attractive option.

As you heard the first shot resound inside of Morpheus, you shuddered, but did not dare stop following the man in the trench coat as he strode on ahead, hands remaining in his pockets. To any onlooker it would seem that he was relaxed as ever, out for a late night walk in a neighbourhood he knew better than he knew himself. Breath in, breath out; you were trying to remind yourself of the simple act, focusing harder than you had ever done during your performances. Imagining your diaphragm stretching, letting the lungs take in as much air as possible and-

Another shot. Breath knocked from you, balance off kilter, you desperately wanted to run. Anywhere. Maybe you should have stayed, not picked up on the subtle offer of your life being spared. In that way you would not have to live with the guilt of not having said anything to your fellow bandmates, not having said thank you to the owner for… what was there to thank anyone for? Out of habit, you lifted a hand to brush over your ear, echoes of the time when you had first felt emotion rippling across your body, making you shiver. You were all fools misled by hope for a brighter tomorrow in a world that was permanently overcast. Where did this running lead you? Where did your wistful song guide you? Back into the arms of the apocalypse - broad-shouldered with hair the colour of ink, the last thing you would see before disappearing for good. At least you should thank your former so-called colleagues for the information about the common demise. Tears welled up in your eyes as you obeyed the lean man’s orders and practically toppled into the black vehicle parked by the Morpheus, a lonesome yelp masked by the gunfire and indecipherable orders.

You had no idea where he was taking you, and you did not dare ask. The man reminded you of all you had been trained to avoid in your new life, a threat, a weapon, a soldier. His gloved right hand remained resting beside the gearshift, while his left coldly gripped the steering wheel. Not a single one of his muscles appeared to be relaxed, and not a single movement had a semblance to anything natural. An automaton in the driver’s seat, you wanted to feel comforted by the idea that you were the only one truly human in the car, for the idea that someone as brutal as a Guardian Inspector could be conscious or decisive was too strong of an agony.

At the same time, in the moments where the Inspector turned his head to check the surroundings, you noted something familiar. He dashed past the blue, purple and aquamarine signs that lined the streets of the district you had learned to love, himself turning into a painting. Be it in the angles that formulated his stern face, or in the elegance that he was unable to conceal, the past crawled out of a long-forgotten cavern in your psyche and gnawed at your nerves, just out of reach of realisation. Perhaps in another time, you had known him. Perhaps in one of the banned art pieces, you had seen him. At the same time, this could not be the first Guardian Inspector you had encountered - they were all similar enough in demeanour, so what was another face? Equally as entitled, above the law. Above a runaway like you. You were vermin. The enemy. A traitor to the Academy, to Strictland, to Z himself. Or so you were told. The only thing that could be different about this Inspector, was that he could be your last.

A sharp stabbing sensation spread from your temples and what had to be through your skull, jabbing into bone and into the cerebellum. Nauseous, you shut your eyes and clutched your head in a futile attempt to seek some form of relief. The car roared, and a sudden stench of rubber and concrete penetrated through every crevice, choking your senses and making you taste the acrid pollution. One turn, another, your organs were being jolted back and forth as the monstrous engine urged on by none other than the embodiment of oblivion dragged the car across eternal misery of long-abandoned districts.

“Oh goodness…” a feeble whisper left your lips. You reached out to grab hold of the door handle, peering at the grooves to find at least something to focus on. His vision was swimming in your eyes, etchings of your surroundings morphing into repressed memories.

A boy marching beside you to class, head held at the angle commanded to all academy students. A young man, dressed in all white with black locks parted in the middle. A solemn stare, unreadable, though not fully blank as it should be. But at the same time, how could you, another student of Prestige, detect that something was not quite right? Since when could you feel? You lifted your head cautiously to try peeking at the Inspector again, but he was frozen. Only the abrupt tightening of his gloved hand around the steering wheel and a determined turn reminded you that he was not quite an automaton.

“I must be dreaming…” you blinked away a teary blur, and clenched onto your dress for the remainder of the journey, feverishly recounting whatever lyrics you could. Your little safe haven, your precious prayers to the arts - truth which you had discovered after abandoning everything you could have been.

Your hand moved on instinct to the side of your head, feeling for what once had been the hub of your consciousness. A chip that made you feel right at home, heartless, but with a purpose. Forty years of education, an eternity to serve something greater than you; clear goals, a mission for your generation and many that would come after you. Hand in hand, you were soldiers of a catastrophically closed-minded society; at the time, however, you could not be ‘happier’. Or rather, more numb. Because you did not know of negative nor positive, you could not experience either, and so remained in a stable equilibrium, just as the superpower of this forlorn land had instructed. Disease was the human emotion. You were ‘healthy’. Until that boy appeared in your life, and revealed himself to you.

Bright-eyed, hopeful, excited. So unlike anyone. And against better judgement, you let the inklings of curiosity drip over your heart, and the beginnings of affection take flight. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a smile brighter than the sun, a soothing mellifluous voice, vowing to you that you could build another life together. A life much more beautiful than one constructed with deception and hollow propaganda. What could a little tap of a breaker do to you? Apparently, it could change your destiny.

As you massaged your temples, you locked gazes with the man in front of you, but met the boy from your past in the mirror. That same worry, knotted eyebrows, concern and care so evident you could touch it if your fingers grazed his cheek. You could not move, even when he turned back to the road, and continued to stare at the rear view mirror in the hopes of seeing your daydream again. You had to be wrong. This had to be you hallucinating. You must be just… afraid. Out of your mind. And so you were recalling one of the few times when you thought the world could do you no harm.

“Get out,” a command. As cold as steel. The engine was still roaring in your ears, despite the surroundings having gone dead silent.

A click. The doors unlocked. You could run if you wanted to. Though you were fully aware that the action would shorten your lifespan to a mere few seconds. You remained seated, gaze falling onto your lap, and listened to the painful succession of sounds that led the man to open your door, and roughly grab your upper arm.

“I said, get out,” you followed him like a rag doll, knowing that any attempts to resist would put you into even more danger. At the same time, even though the Inspector was obviously attempting to instil terror and a twisted respect for him, he could not face you. Consciously he made an effort to barely raise his lashes, thus keeping his scrutiny concealed. Reading through his hesitation was easy enough.

He could not keep his hand on you for a second longer after you stood up straight, darting away as though you were an open flame. The man cleared his throat and locked the car, before gesturing towards an abandoned building that loomed over the gravelly opening where you had completed your journey. Comically, it reminded you of Prestige, even though the latter was of much larger proportions and possessed a more unique shape. Perhaps it was the fact that this block, what used to be an apartment building, was crumbling, made you think of the academy’s inner workings. Rotting away. The cogs in the machine tearing each other apart.

This might be your end or your beginning, you were not sure which one. With an astounding loyalty, you let yourself be guided into the long-forgotten cement fortress, up exposed stairs with metal railings, past walls left bare, illuminated by an exposed moonlight, laying down a carpet of silver. It was oddly easy to think that life was beautiful when it was likely going to be taken away from you. The walk was silent, and the longer it lasted, the more at peace you felt. The odd step rang out and echoed like the gunshots you had heard, so surreal that you could barely believe it. It must have been a joke. Fireworks, or someone just being a little boisterous. Morpheus had seen so many colours of Z’s regime, it could not disappear now… oh who were you kidding. It was done for. You little version of an escape. Your space to feel.

As you made sneaky glances at the Inspector to your right, who not so ceremoniously had loosened his coat’s belt once more to have easy access to his gun, you could not help but think of the boy. You had followed his advice, made a run for it while he had been taken away by the Red Humans. Two youngsters who betrayed the regime. But who was truly free? The one who had been exterminated, or the one who had to live in fear, but at least felt the ruthless emotion?

The enigmatic man slowed down, and so did you. He made a turn, so did you, acting as his shadow. You were certain that you were probably breathing at the same rate. An empty hallway, lined with equally empty rooms and destroyed apartments. From a humble abode to rubble, you could see the horrific vistas of the district, and the drop to the cold ground below. No wall, no security, no certainty. It was only you and your fate in the form of a man who seemed to possess too much of a likeness to the keeper of your fragile adoration.

The Inspector walked in front and turned to face you. You froze, burning under his scrutiny. Eyes like scalding cold ice, assessing you, condemning you. Your best listener, now listening to your terrified heart. For what could be the last time, you felt alive. As the man reached into his pocket, you prepared for the worst, however, he only motioned with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you obeyed, finding yourself in a more secluded corner of the floor, one which had remotely retained the appearance of an actual room. Stuck in the same few seconds, there were no further commands from the Inspector, causing your mind to wander, and lips to move on their own accord:

“I should not be here.”

“Neither should I,” he deadpanned, though his choice of words was unsettling. Wasn’t he on a mission?

“I should be dead,” you persisted.

“I should have more blood on my hands.”

A pause. You were in shock, pointlessly clinging onto your own upper arms, stuck in a false embrace. Like prey that had been cornered, you were beyond the point of trusting survival instincts. You simply wanted for the interaction, or dare you say, interrogation, to be over, so you could be given away to the Red Humans, to whatever the afterlife had to offer, in peace. If you were to be melted, then so be it. If your departure were to be short and sweet, so be it. But a little question in your head still remained, a persistent worm which you decided to unleash given your hopeless circumstances:

“Then why-”

“It is pointless to ask when there is no answer,” the man answered coldly, not sparing you a glance as he picked at a filthy off-white tulle which covered a blown out window - now just a frame, with his gloved hand, glaring at the pitiful greyness outside the abandoned building before wiping the hand off with a handkerchief produced out of the pocket into which he had stuffed his hand.

A few steps separated you, but you knew better than to try and make a run for it – the man was armed, and you assumed that the gun you spotted was not the only weapon in his arsenal. He was menacing, unpredictable, and very dangerous. Alongside that, as much as you hated to admit, but the Inspectors were nothing short of extraordinary when it came to their expertise and training. Unlike Android Guardians, they were the leading forces, capable of high-risk decision making and unparalleled critical thinking. If you were to try to describe them, you always ended up thinking of chess. That was what they were playing whenever they were out in the field.

In fact, it was for this exact reason that you were concerned about this Inspector’s behaviour – it was out of line. Inefficient. Sub-optimal. You wondered if this was a new strategy or there was a higher plan; there were so many possibilities that your head could start spinning. You dug your fingers into rapidly cooling flesh, waking yourself up from the distressed rumination. What was the Inspector going to do to you? You had followed his demands so far, and weren’t putting up a fight - what more could he want?

He was unreadable. Gestures unpredictable, expression stoic, he regarded you with an air of superiority characteristic of people from his class. Serpent-like and calculating eyes, regal nose, facial structure reminiscent of a statue, plush perfectly shaped lips – all were a nod to his upbringing, you bet. He did not feel real. Reminiscent of automatons that the regime sometimes used in place of regular Guardians during high-volume riots, he was what one would call the ‘ideal specimen’. Down to the strand of wavy hair that fell on his face, he was a beautiful painting of your worst nightmare. Life had been unkind to you, you decided. It only showed you something prettier than the night lights when it was the last thing you would see.

The man stepped towards you, and your eyelids slammed shut automatically. You did not wish to see your death. The sound of leather against leather, the tied coat belt, the creaking of ancient rotten wood planks under lacquered ankle boots. He must be getting ready to end you. Were you too high profile to be lying with the other bodies in the club? Were you more dangerous in the Inspector’s view, being a singer, or as one could say a ‘spreader’ of inappropriate entertainment. Was this treason? Terrorism? You were not sure – the sentence changed more than the weather. But were you an enemy? With confidence, you had to answer with a Yes. Having escaped the regime, and according to those who had helped you regain some parts of your past self, having had a part in the uprising within Prestige Academy, you were the worst kind of citizen of Strictland. Disobedient, unchanging, and influential. You were waiting for the cocking of a pistol, for cool metal to hit your head, and for the world to go even darker as you collapsed on to the floorboards. The man had to be taking out his gun. He must have taken you away from the raid to be particularly ruthless. A sadist? Maybe. You had no time to judge.

You felt the fabric of your shimmering dress under your fingertips, and imagined you were preparing for a show of a lifetime. You counted your inhales and exhales like you would do before a performance, and conjured an audience in your mind. More rustling, another step. He, that boy, no, young man, was in the audience. Still in the Prestige Academy uniform, but the chip was long gone. He was giving you an encouraging smile eager to hear what you had achieved in your time away from the academy. Leather caressed your hand and you flinched, comforted only by how cautious the action was. Hand turned to raise your palm to the omniscient skies, your illusions combined with reality - what was Seonghwa to give to you?

Funny, how in critical moments, the mind could give you what you had longed to forget. Seonghwa. His name tasted sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. A fine wine, dizzying, addictive. A handsome, talented student who had the future ahead of him, only to throw it away for the taste of something more ‘real’ in his eyes. Something cold was being pressed into your palm, reminiscent of a large bullet or a device your fingers could remember before your mind. Your eyes shot open and were met with a dream and a nightmare. Finally, it hit you. Behind the Inspector’s facade, a mask crafted by years of experience and brutality, was the same boy, who, just like now, pressed a breaker into your palm.

“Wake up.”

Your gaze fell to the intricate metal handiwork, spotting the carving of an ‘A’ contained in a circle right at the base. The taste of anarchy, an uprising, revolution, a hope for something better flowing through a tragic story you two had written. At last, it had a resolution, and you were more than content with who was holding the lethal pen. You stared at the breaker. The very thing that brought you out of an eternal somnolence, submission to a regime. You had woken up then, and never could sleep.

“Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer… the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…” you lifted your head once more, staring into Seonghwa’s softened eyes. He had matured, his features having become siren-like, dangerous, seductive. Befitting his character. You smiled sadly, “...or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing end them?” He remained quiet, as if he was the one waiting for you to decide your own destiny, “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Ever read it? Or do they not let you?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, concealing a pang of nervousness, “I am familiar with his work.”

“Mm, isn’t that a criminal offence?”

“What is?”

“Reading work exploring human emotion… sounds like treason to me.”

“Reading does not imply sympathising.”

“But you do.”

Again, a heavy pause. Seonghwa rocked from one foot to another one time, another - an old habit? Or an attempt to convince you that he was at least a fraction the same?

“I… I do not,” before you could scowl, he continued, “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once’. I am more partial to this way of thinking.”

“Ah, the irony of it all.”

Your hand formed a fist around the device, and you kept on searching for fragments of the man you loved inside of the new Seonghwa before you. In flashes, you spotted glimmers of gold, feeble hints for something that could be concealed in the depths of his soul.

“So, are you going to make me a valiant person?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be doing?” feeling a little more brave, you taunted him, wishing to see what his limit was. Whether he was lying to you just to set you at ease and make his job easier. So he could see one final sense of betrayal in your pupils.

“We are already dead, Y/N.”

---

Music. A universal language. The biggest risk for a community that someone wanted to silence. So you hummed one song after another, head leaning against Seonghwa’s shoulder as you sat on the concrete floor, in the corner of the room that was barely holding itself together. Bathed in silver light, you shared with him the luxury of reminiscing, mourned what had been lost only to have the feeling be replaced by a budding desire to wish upon anything at all.

Seonghwa might have lied to many of the Inspectors, and was in danger of facing a fate worse than extermination, but at least he did not lie to you. And because he did not lie to you, you were here; you were real. He could have the pleasure of having you beside him, wrapped up in his leather coat; your dress was not exactly ‘inhospitable conditions’ material, as pretty and befitting as it was. You were refusing to let go of the breaker as though it was the tether to a more sunny past, not that Seonghwa would ever dare pry it out of your hands. So long as you could keep singing for him forever. Even when music were to cease existing, and when the sky would fall down, he would still hear your voice. How many times had he visited Morpheus in secret, outside of his official inspections and scouting missions? How quickly had he transferred into a field role just for the chance to find you? How had he managed to remain alive even though his sentence had been supposedly set in stone, and he was still feeling? With each question, the answer grew blurrier and blurrier, until it no longer existed. Perhaps this was a manifestation of destiny. You were supposed to meet again after so much turmoil, so you did. Curious.

“What song do you like?” your voice, sleepy, serene, cut through his ruminations. Seonghwa looked down and to his side, meeting a gentle gaze.

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Mm, no that’s not an answer,” you snaked your hands around his arm and pulled him closer.

“But I like everything you sing. Because you sing it.”

“Sweet, but I’m at a loss.”

“Then let’s be quiet. Together. For as long as we can.”

“There’s not too long left, is there?”

Your question was rhetorical. Both you and Seonghwa were aware of it. Time in Strictland was not governed by the individual but by an unforgiving system. A person, or perhaps a symbol, holding the clock with an iron grip and making the hands fly faster and faster until a second was an impossible measure. Involuntarily, he sighed, causing wisps of steam to escape his lips and rise to the exposed armature of the floor above. With cooling temperatures came the cooling heart, and it was difficult to tell what it was that you loved. What was it that made you feel alive?

“You know, they gave me a choice,” Seonghwa began. There was no reason why he should be telling you about what had happened to him, but the sombre atmosphere seemed to bode well for a confession. You did not interrupt, choosing to remain passive, resigned, “either die for what I believe in, or admit I was wrong.”

“Funny how they gave you a choice,” the infamous ‘they’. The Guardians, the regime, the enemy. Now turned into a friend. Interesting how life changed.

“Definitely was not what I expected.”

“You sure they didn’t say ‘sike’ at any point and you just got lucky?”

“I don’t think they can miss,” a simple, but sharp fact. You bit your lower lip, “...anyways. You can probably guess what I chose to do. The only caveat is that I admitted I was wrong… for a different thing.”

“Do tell.”

“I was wrong for putting you in danger, Y/N.”

“Nothing we could do about that. We were two fools in love.”

Seonghwa detangled himself from you, only to grasp your free hand in his, place the other on your thigh and meet you face to face. Misty-eyed, his rationality was growing frantic, and you knew that at any moment he could snap, and only the clearing night knew what would happen then.

“But I was the one to jolt you out of a peaceful existence. I was selfish-” After years of doubting himself, sinking into a destructive illusion where he would march alongside others like a machine, he was breathing. Much to his regret, it was a sensation far too sweet and heavenly, worth every revolution and rebellion.

“I don’t regret it.”

“...What?”

“I would put this thing to my head time and time again if I had to,” you raised the breaker to eye level, attempting to get at least a smile or a chuckle out of Seonghwa. Much to your dismay, it did the opposite. You would be lying if you were to proclaim you were euphoric.

“I- I’m… Y/N I’m so sorry…” you shook your head and pulled him in, until his exhales and inhales were tickling your neck. Hunched over you like a black-clad shield, Seonghwa was unmoving. Eyes darting down, you spotted that he had taken the pistol out of the holster, and upon a second glance to where he had been sitting, you noted its lonely presence, tucked away with debris and gravel.

“You are alive. And clearly still care enough to remember me. That’s your apology. And your punishment,” in a soothing gesture, you ran your fingers through his hair, cautiously at first, then turning your ministrations continuous, measured out when Seonghwa sat back down on the concrete, only this time nuzzled into you.

“Sorry…” he forced out, choking up.

The moon counted down the time while lazily passing over the building. You were at a crossroads. In haste, Seonghwa had told you of the opportunity to serve the Guardian Inspectors, being a private entertainer of sorts, but he knew you would refuse. Fast. Becoming one’s own enemy was the one thing you would not follow Seonghwa into doing. And that is why he admired you. You were strong. You were truly alive. A bird soaring in the skies in spite of the risks of being hunted, being shot. Simply for the feeling of the wind under your wings, to be closer to the stars and to sing your song loud and clear, every note a celestial blessing.

“Blue bird…”

“Hm?”

“I think I have an idea… if you are willing to go into hiding, that is.”

“Planning uprisings are we?”

“Oh they’ve been long in the works, my love. It is part of my job to close my eyes when necessary, and when convenient.”

“Are you about to be wrong again?”

“Maybe. Or very, very right. Depends on how the song sounds to you.”

---

Walking down the corridors of the headquarters, hands behind his back and appearance pristine, Seonghwa was nothing short of a model Inspector. Low ranking employees cowered before him and bowed, while his immediate colleague Wooyoung smirked, attempting to hook any information out.

“So… where'd the pretty star go?”

Silently, Seonghwa handed him a slip recording the disposal of an ‘unnamed entity’.

“ Oh… well that’s harsh. What did they do, reject you?”

“Apparently once gone so far astray, one cannot be changed. I had to do what was best for the regime.”

“Such an example for others. Wow. Almost too good to be true, Park. Well, I’ll be reporting that the extermination and cleanup of Morpheus was successful.”

“You do that.”

While Wooyoung turned the corner, Seonghwa continued to walk straight down the metal corridor, eyes locked onto the very end. Morpheus was no longer, indeed. But your song was still ringing in his ears, and no doubt, there would be a time when it would resound over the many speakers planted all across Strictland.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on

🌑 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @starrysvn @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @uwuheeseungie @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

enjoyed? please consider reblogging <3 thank you

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localityghost · 11 months

Text

☆𝑷𝑰𝒁𝒁𝑨'𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬☆

𝑭𝒕.𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒋𝒊

◇—ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ||𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒋𝒊 𝐱 ʏᴏᴜ♡

◇— ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ||Looks like someone's a little broke Maybe you can pay Baji a different way

◇ —ᴄᴡ||Meanie Baji,𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, Oral M!receiving, Oral F!receiving, squirting

Tags|| @bimbohub

It was 7:30 P.M you were quietly sitting on your couch waiting for your pizza to come since it was the weekend and college was killing you slowly with all the tests and exams you had to do, and to top it off, you got no breaks, so this was indeed a moment of peace for you thankfully. You scrolled on your phone, reading some Instagram stories. You didn't care about what you were wearing at the time, just your panties, a cinnamon roll top with cute fluffy ears near your cleavage area, so nothing much to even cover your brownish skin that shined a bit of a gold color when hit with light or sunlight for that matter.

You continued to scroll quietly on your phone while waiting for your pizza. It was an essential choice of pepperoni and cheese, nothing too extra or too little on it, just enough to satisfy you. Hearing the doorbell, you got up, leaving the comfort of your lovely couch to answer it. You see a tall man with black hair draping down his back and some still in his face. He's wearing a pizza worker uniform with a stupid little smiling pizza logo on it as he holds your pizza in his hands. "Order for Y/N," he said in a monotone voice as he snuck glances at what little clothes you were wearing. He then opened his mouth to speak more "That'll be 24.99$," he said. You groaned and fetched your purse from your room, only to find out that you were running short on the price of the pizza. You sighed. This day couldn't go worse for you as you returned to the door twiddling your fingers as you stared at the guy, "I...don't have enough money to give you. Is there another way I could possibly repay you?" you asked the guy scoffing "Seriously? Why order a pizza if you didn't have enough money for it?" you facepalmed he was right why didn't you check how much you had first? You look up at him again, only to find him staring at your cleavage. You see a toothy grin appear on his face. "Well, there is one way you could pay me back...for making me come all this way, sweetheart," he said the way he spoke, sending waves down to your pussy which caused you to shift your legs, rubbing your thighs a bit Baji then set the pizza box down on the nightstand by your door as he pinned you to a wall as he tied up his hair into a ponytail "It's gonna be a long night..."

It was a long night, indeed. He started biting your neck as he rubbed your cloth pussy, earning soft moans and whimpers from you, which caused him to smile at the view showing off his sharp fangs as he left marks on you. Your top strap was already draping down your shoulder. Baji then picked you up and sat you down on the couch, sliding down your white-laced panties as he spread your legs, rubbing his finger on your already wet pussy as he tasted the slick "Mm, call me the pussy inspector because it looks like you need to be inspected" he said as you see him descend down in between your legs nipping your inner thighs before brushing his tongue against your clit which caused you to whimper as you clasped your hand over your mouth as you hear Baji slightly laugh from the reaction to his advances he gripped the fat of your ass as he began to let his tongue run through your folds, he must be experienced because the way he was lapping you up was insane the head game with him is crazy, Baji was enjoying himself as your muffled moans were like music to his ears each time his tongue slid through your slicks and making you even wetter with his saliva you felt your stomach twist a warning you were already gonna cum from his advances the last straw was him sliding his tongue right into your entrance sending a shock up your spine as your back arched as you then came your juices dripping from your inner thighs as you heard Baji chuckle lowly "Look at you, all messed up cause of me I'm honestly flattered" he said grabbing your thigh and throwing it over his shoulder "But were not done yet princess you gotta pay up for wasting my time". You've been sitting here for what? An hour as Baji's tongue lapped at your pussy, licking and sucking all the juices that came from it, it just seemed he could go on forever if you let him as he pulled a 5th orgasm out of you, finally raising from his crouched position wiping his mouth "that was fun now onto the good part" he said taking off his belt as he slid it off the loops of his pants as he sat down on the couch.

Seeing Baji's hard-on made you question how big he was as he motioned for you to come closer. You got down on the ground and scooted right between his thigh as he slid his cock out. He was big and lengthy, definitely a lot of girth to him as he smeared the pre-cum around his tip. It was like you instinctively opened your mouth. Baji smirked as he tapped it against your tongue before taking the back of your hand and pushing you down on his length. Not giving you any room to breathe, your head bobbing up and down on his length, your muffled moans made him laugh again as your already wet slick dripped on the cute Sanrio carpet you had in your living room. This was so embarrassing, but you liked it as he continued to be rough as he pressed your head down against him. Surprisingly, he was neatly trimmed down there, so you hit a soft patch every time you were pushed down. After a good 30 minutes, he pushed you down for the final time blowing his load in your mouth. He then yanked your head upwards. "Swallow," he said, commanding you as you swallowed his somewhat sour but creamy cum going down your throat. He then turned you around, bending you over. "I got one more load to spare and it's gonna go deep in that sweet pussy..." without warning, he shoved his cock into you, which caused you to grip the sides of the table, the straps on your top fully off your shoulders as Baji grabbed the fat of your tits removing them from the security of your cute cinnamon roll top you could feel him occasionally squeeze your cute little buds as he laughed bending down as he licked the shell of your ear "Names Baji, Baji Keisuke remember that name for me sweetheart remember whos fucking you dumb on this table," he said as they table rocked form how rough he was thrusting into you each thrust making a lewd sound between you two from how hard he was thrusting the wet slaps between you and his hips filled the room as you moaned out loudly as Baji sped up the pace being down over you as this time he grabbed both of your tits the snapping of his hips getting sloppy and more "Fuck...g'nna cum, gonna cum right into this pretty pussy" he said breathlessly as his right hand slid in between your thighs to rub your clit causing your orgasm to hit you like a freight train as you squirted all over his cock Baji releasing in you in that timestamp his white cum coating his shaft along with your slick you dropped to your knee. Baji, who was out of breath, then said, "You owe me a sleepover"

Open collab with @toychick!

#tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #localghostsblackgirlfics!#tr smut #tokyo revengers smut headcanons #tokyorev smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji x you #baji smut #baji

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birdybirdnerd · 10 months

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👀 bifrost incident stage play????

youve opened pandoras box my friend. get ready

okay so i had this idea back in 2019 when i first got into the mechs and specifically first heard tbi. im a theater kid and have chronic amv/animatic brain where i visualize things real easy, so when i first listened to this album i was SLAMMED with the realization that, actually, tbi is PERFECT for a stage adaptation

imagine, if you will:

inspector lyf, at his desk side-stage and in front of the curtains. stalking across the stage, talking direct to the audience as he waves the black box, setting the stage and the story ahead and theorizing as to whats going on

the first chords of odins launch speech are heard, and the curtains open wide on the exterior of the train, odin at a podium, and a crowd listening intently

during each of lyfs speaking parts (cold case/person of interest/etc), he walks across the stage and explains things, as the set changes behind him. new characters arrive, spotlights shining as lyf wonders what theyre doing there, if they were the one that sabotaged the train

in the style of kabuki theater, the stagehands are dressed all in black, silently moving the set around the actors, changing things and completely invisible, the audience accustomed to ignoring them at this point

lokis song comes, and the whole time she sings, she is beset by these stagehands, dragging her around like another set piece, harassing her, interacting with her but still invisible to everyone else. sigyn tries to get her attention during her song, tries to pull her into their wedding dance- but the stagehands keep pulling loki into dances of their own, all while sigyn has no idea why her wife wont so much as look at her

losing track, lyf is losing track and the suspects are lined up onstage, singing, taunting as lyf stalks among them, grabbing their arms and faces and demanding answers. as he loses his mind, falling into despair, they turn to him and grab him back, pull him down, yell the only words they have left at him as he despairs.

the live band is dressed in theme, all steampunk-ed up, on a mini stage off opposite lyf with minimal lighting on them, until- expert testimony comes by, lyf bemoans having to go to the imprisoned bandits that annoy him so, as he crosses the stage, only for the lights to rise on the band and guess who theyve been the whole time!

red signal. lyf stands center stage, frozen in place as he chants, summoning that squamous something from beyond the veil, as those stagehands, all-black, all-invisible, shift and change before the audiences eyes, pulling out rainbow scarves, makeup once hidden shining bright and vivid in sudden black light. they dash off the stage as the rip between worlds widens, run amok the audience, slamming through doors and screeching as lyf voice raises higher, higher, until-

intermission

and when the audience comes back, the stage is... wrong

more black light, the set has warped and twisted. rainbow lights shimmer brighter on the backdrop, splashing in pools on the stage and the actors faces. the stagehands run free now, the monsters from behind the veil, the unholy things now attacking the actors directly, tearing them apart as the train falls into chaos

thor confronts the all-mother, transformed; she stands at the top of a podium now, the top of a platform while her costume has expanded around her, grandiose robes melting into a massive, writhing puppet manned by the stagehands, a bright and staring eye projected behind her head, staring at the audience, watching. thor fights off the hands, loses, and finally throws his hammer at the eye- replaced with a bright, white crack as the stars claim them both

loki and sigyn share a final tender moment in the engine room, they get their dance in before sigyn slips the line into her wifes arm. they share a final kiss as the curtains close on them, leaving...

lyf, standing center-stage. bottle in hand, exhausted, terrified. he bids the audience good luck, laughs wryly about the bandits disappearing - at some point, the live band quietly disappeared from their side-stage - and slips behind the curtain

terminus

the radio static fizzes, and as we hear the panic spread across the galaxy, the curtains part for bows. the bell tolls, flashing that bright, staring eye back as all other lights go off, plummeting everyone into dark and stark relief

so yeah, ive thought of this a normal amount

#the mechanisms #the bifrost incident #personal #my writing #technically??#anyways i havent actually opened the doc this is all in in years #but ive thougth about this and turned these thoughts and visuals over in my head enough times #that i completely one hundred percent was able to just rattle all this off the cuff #can you tell im autistic. anyways if i had unlimited budget i would one hundred percent make this #but theres so much that i just cant see happening on your average local theaters budget. so

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sullina · 2 months

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I am fucking. Obsessed with the idea of 14 year old Luke in America using his skill of talking to animals for his detective work.

But not just for gathering information.

But also like.

Training some animals to help him in an emergency.

I mean the boy is 14 years old. I highly doubt he really has the strength to go against a grown man looking to harm him, not to mention several. His father surely knows this as well. Clark loves his son and will support him in anything he does, but without the Professor to look out for him, he's pretty concerned about his sons safety.

So what I'm imagining is like

Luke, cornered in alley, alone except for the culprits he just apprehended (on his own. Because... reasons)

And he tries to fight back, but he's still just one guy and doesn't have the strength of someone like Inspector Grosky. He lands maybe a few punches, but the others overwhelm him still.

So what is a 14 year old boy to do in this type of situation?

The only thing he can do.

Luke stands up, slowly rising to his feet. He raises an arm and looks the main culprit in the eyes as he shouts: "TEN THOUSAND CROWS BE UPON YE!!!!!!"

For a second nothing happens and the culprits just laugh. "Did you really thing that would work? Let's get him!"

But then, suddenly, a noise so loud it's deafening. It's like a thousand ocean waves all crashing against a cliff at the same time.

The culprits looks up and the sky is black, when just a second ago, the sun was shining over the entire city.

They'll remember this moment. It's the last moment of peace they'll ever know.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

Birds descend upon them, their beaks like daggers raining from the sky.

The crows won't kill them. Luke has made it clear that that is not acceptable. He has also taught them not to go for the face. He didn't want anyone maimed, after all, no matter how heinous a crime they committed. Fortunately, the crows are smart. That's why Luke picked them for this job, after all.

The culprits are all struggling against the black birds, flailing around uselessy trying to shoo them away, but they've already made the extremely grave error of daring to hurt their friend.

Luke instructs the birds to keep them there to the best of their ability, and if they run, to follow them them closely. In the meantime, he finds the nearest phone box and contacts the police, who, of course, rush to the scene to make sure that he's okay and to catch the culprits. They have no idea what sight awaits them.

When the leading Inspector arrives, he is astounded by what he sees. He questions Luke, how could he apprehend this group of culprits all by himself?

"Is it not clear, Inspector?" Luke chuckles, and instead of a long-winded explanation, decides to simply state the obvious:

[Image ID in alt]

#professor layton #professor layton and the new world of steam #pl nwos #luke triton #it would be so funny omg please #i spent way too long on this meme edit lmao #it's almost 4am #i should go to bed #good night

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trueshellz · 1 year

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A/N: This is based on something I did today, thankfully my mum had my spare keys to the back patio door so I could climb over.

"Nooooooooooooo."

Leaning your head against the door with a sound of frustration as your front door slammed behind you. The mocking sound of keys jangling inside still in the lock where you left them, somehow you had forgotten that your door can't open without the stupid keys. And now you were stood on your doorstep in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with your hair in a messy bun.

Another groan of frustration when you tried to stick your hand through the letterbox, if you could just... nope. Your hand did not fit and now you had a ring of red from the action. Stomping your feet you glanced around quickly and smiled awkwardly at a passerby who was walking with her son. She had a look of confusion on her face which quickly turned into shock as she saw your lack of clothing.

Oh great.

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your bra where you had shoved it earlier and dialled a locksmith... who unhelpfully told you that they would be there in an hour as they were short-staffed. Next was your landlord, who was also unable to come out as he was out the city visiting family. And of course, since lady luck was not shining down on you at all, your mother and sister were both unable to come out for at least 2 hours since they were getting their nails done.

Which left you with one option... something you really didn't want to do, but honestly, sitting outside in your loungewear was really not it. Dialling the number for the police, you quickly explained the situation and apologised for the silly reason for calling.

"We actually have some pro-heroes patrolling the area near you so we'll ask them to stop and help you out. Just sit tight for now."

Murmured thanks as you planted your butt on the ground next to the door, keeping an eye and ear out for the pro-hero in question when suddenly a bunch of cursing and loud words caught your attention.

"-is that? I mean, who manages to lock themselves out nowadays? And why call the police? A locksmith would have been better. Do we look like Inspector Gadget?"

Oh great.

Dynamight.

A thud of boots as he neared you, suddenly you could hear Red Riot reprimanding him and a slap followed by a loud 'ow' from him. And them two pairs of boots in front of you where your chin was rested on your arms over your knees. Looking up, you could see Dynamight's frowning face and Red Riot's friendly smile and wave.

Katsuki was pissed.

Not only had he been called away from patrol to sort out whatever the hell this was, but to make it worse his dick suddenly perked up with interest at the most annoying time. Seeing you say on the floor, the way your shorts rode up your thick thighs, the poor excuse for a shirt stretched across your heavy tits almost made his jaw drop to the floor.

"The hell happened?" Instead came out of his mouth.

Fucking perfect.

"Got locked out."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Reaching over and trying the door once, he heard your snort before turning around to glare at you but somehow seeing your arms crossed over your chest made him stumble. Closing his mouth quickly, he tried again but this time barged his shoulder into it until it popped open with a loud 'thunk' onto the wall.

Smiling politely, you quickly ran in and pulled in your hoodie, suddenly very aware of the size of the two of them and how very underdressed you were as they stood in your doorway.

"-ID?

"Huh?"

"Have you got ID showing you live here, sweetheart?" Red Riot's face was friendly, Dynamight was outside on his device mumbling to himself.

Nodding quickly you grabbed your drivers license and a bill that had come recently before handing them over to him to check. A look up and down, between you and the papers as he grinned again and handed them back.

"I'm sorry about him. He's been on patrol for almost the whole day and he's a little hangry. Have a good evening

Nodding again, you watched as they both left after handing their business cards to you. Just in case they said, flipping them over in your fingers you frowned when you saw dark writing on the back of Dynamight's, his number and a short message in neat handwriting.

Next time you're stuck, call me.

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evmorfiad · 1 year

Note

Hello *waves* Since you wanted asks ... I'm curious, what are your top 3 Joseph Mawle characters? And what makes him so special in your eyes? Cheers!

Those are awesome questions! I suck at explaining my thoughts, sometimes I feel I don’t even know what they ARE exactly and I tend to give too much of a backstory, but I'll try my best.

May be the second question first; What makes him so special in your eyes?

I'm from Germany, and though there are some good shows, I always find the actors performances lacking. I can 'feel' them acting, instead of 'being' the characters. No matter how good and experienced an actor is. It must be the German acting and directing culture, or may be the language, because when German actors are in international productions, they are so much better. Therefore, I tend to be very sensitive to people’s performances being natural.

I think Joseph Mawle is one of the most 'naturalistic' performers that I've ever seen. I can feel him 'be' that character. I think his 'disability' is what has let him grow into this, being hard of hearing and dyslexic. I think he's a master at non-verbal communication, and he conveys so much emotion through facial expressions and body language even in very fleeting moments, and it gives his characters so much depth. I think he's also forced to be very conscious of intonation, so every word carries very thought-out emotional meaning. In both cases you might not even catch it, but unconsciously it influences you. He's said himself that he takes longer to read and learn lines and I guess also to do research into a new character. I would also guess he therefore has to additionally use all other senses available to him very intensively to do so, and I think that can force an actor to get even more emotionally involved. I think that is reflected in the performances that I have seen so far, and it makes for an even more immersive experience of that story. It seems that he completely melts into his roles. It's so intense, you can't look away when he's on screen.

I also think the fact that he seems to avoid the limelight intentionally nowadays by more often than not choosing side characters or main ones in very niche genres, shows that he chooses his vocation for the sake of the art of acting itself, of wanting to tell and also experience that specific story arc of that specific character. He does not want to be side-tracked by anything else. This of course applies to many performers, but coupled with the above element, it makes for a very potent mix.

Therefore, I also think it is imperative to include many, many more people with 'disabilities' in any kind of art. It will make art bloom in full and reach its inherent potential of giving a unique kind of life to society.

I could say many, many more things about this unique individual, but I'll shut up … for now.

Now onto the first question: What are your top 3 Joseph Mawle characters?

HARD!!! So UNFAIR!!!

So far I've seen him in: Sir Gadabout, Soundproof, Silent Witness, The Secret Life of Mrs. Beeton, Persuasion, Merlin, Sometimes the Moon is Velvet, Murder on the Orient Express, Made in Dagenham, Women in Love, The Cold Light of Day, Twelve, In the Heart of the Sea, Ripper Street, A Winter's Tale, Game of Thrones, Troy - Fall of a City, Mr. Jones, Land's End, the music video to 'Behold the Hurricane', the TOYOTA commercial, the documentary 'Words of the Titanic' and The Rings of Power.

WOW! I did not realise how much I already HAVE seen. And still there is SO much to STILL see!

Special mentions beforehand: Captain Harry Harville from 'Persuasion' (2007). It was the first role I ever saw him in, back in ca. 2009. He has a special place in my heart. Sir Tificate from 'Sir Gadabout - The worst Knight in the Land', because I just LOVE the fact that he was part of a children’s show, and I'd found it, unexpectedly, VERY entertaining. AND Michael from 'Land's End'. That performance. The eyeliner. Bronski Beat's 'Smalltown Boy' is finally a permanent fixture on my favorite songs playlist.

In no particular order … or … may be yes … or no …

Detective Inspector Jedediah Shine (Ripper Street Seasons 2 & 5)

While only the first season existed, I'd loved Bennet Drake, such a sweety, but the MOMENT Jedediah arrived on screen when the second season came along I was HOOKED. HOOKED I tell you! He was SO fascinating! Such a bastard, so self-assured, so confident and stylish. He also had some of the best lines I ever heard in any series. He seemed vulnerable and such a hard ass at the same time. And he TERRIFIED me! I'd never been terrified of any fictional character THAT intensely before. I just didn't know what he would decide to do next. I wanted him to lose and win at the same time. SUCH a roller coaster ride of emotions. An amazing performance. - And I am SO not a fan of the bulky kind of man, but DAMN…!

Dean Whittingham (Soundproof)

What he managed to do here is special. Not only to him, since it was his breakout role, but his execution of the depiction of the 'disability' of being deaf. He was praised in an article written by a deaf person who saw the movie. That is a feat. This story was also a roller coaster ride of feelings. Is Dean the murderer or not? Experiencing WITH him the frustration and helplessness of being dependent on another person translating while being accused and interviewed by police. There is a scene where he does suddenly verbalise his frustration because he is SO desperate, and the way he was able to produce that 'sound' was AMAZEBALLS! I fell in love with Joe’s talent all over again.

Adar (The Rings of Power)

I've loved the design of the Uruks ever since I saw 'The Fellowship of the Ring' back in 2002, but to feel FOR and identify WITH them took the appearance of Adar. I think it was only at the beginning of last year, that I read that Joseph was a part of The Rings of Power, and I'd been excited about it long before that, but this information just increased my excitement by a MASSIVE amount. I was not disappointed. Adar is by far my absolute favourite character of the show, and it's in no small part because of Mr. Mawle’s embodiment of him. The moment he was on screen and I saw those tears in his eyes when 'saying' goodbye to Magrot … I was IN LOVE! I KNEW that this storyline would be something special and unique, and I am so happy that Joe was a part of that. There is still so much mystery around who he used to be, and so many interesting theories about what will happen to/with him, that I am still HEARTBROKEN about the recast. The coming together, the amalgamation of THAT character with THAT artist was a chemical reaction that resulted in a unique and very impactful experience.

There you have it.

End of my two-and-a-half page essay. Ooops … sorry, not sorry.

Credits for the wonderful gifs featured here go to @joemawle

Thank you SO much for all the time and work you put into making them ❤️

And thank you @chris-pikes for these wonderful questions! 💗

#asks #joseph mawle #detective inspector jedediah shine #dean whittingham #adar #ripper street #soundproof #the rings of power #that man IS art #disability representation

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hephaestuscrew · 1 month

Text

Favourite Fleet & Clara quotes from High Vaultage

(Page numbers from my Goldsboro special edition, I'm not sure how they line up with page numbers in other versions. Spoilers for all of High Vaultage.)

p27: Clara had met Fleet only weeks before. She had just arrived in London and started work as a crime reporter, and pursued a murder case alongside Fleet despite his repeated objections, until he eventually conceded - as Clara had known he would - that they were making a good team, and furthermore proposed - as she hadn't a clue he would - that they go into business together.

p51: "There you are, Fleet. Where have you been?" / Fleet paused, made some confused looks between Clara and the room he had just left, and finally pointed at the door. "Isn't this the waiting room for detectives whose partners have run off? They were quite a few of us in there. Quite a lot in common." / Clara suppressed a grin into something more disapproving. "You're not as funny as you think you are, Inspector." (More below the cut.)

p70: [After Clara successfully sneaks into the Iron Bridge Club] [Fleet] should have known Clara would make it in. Her tenacity had been clear to him since she had first left the police roping at a crime scene of his. It was one of the things he admired about her, even if she didn't always check whether there was somewhere to land.

p76: [After Clara's business card strategies work on Cosgrove] Fleet glanced at Clara. She grinned back, eyes wild with pride, before tapping her bag and mouthing the word 'Posner'.

p116: [After Professor McCabe says “Top marks, Miss Entwhistle”] Clara beamed, and flashed her eyebrows at Fleet while elbowing him in the ribs.

p132: "Don't think you can shake me off, Inspector. I'll come with you." / " I'm not trying to shake you off. It's just late, Clara.” / "You're always trying to shake me off. Ever since we met. Despite my constant usefulness." / "I'd say occasional usefulness," replied Fleet, maintaining a straight face. / Clara, with some effort, twisted her grin into something approximating outrage. "Frequent usefulness, surely!" / "No, but I'll agree to "regular usefulness"." / "Deal.” / “And I asked you to join me in business, Clara. If I'd wanted to shake you off, that's a poor way to go about it."

p154: [From Fleet's POV] Clara really was the sort of person - indeed the only person he knew - who could find genuine joy and wonder in a building site.

p172: [When Clara fears for her life at the display of the Lanterns] She thought of her brother, her sister, her parents... Her ridiculous detective.

p176-178: Clara without her usual pep was almost unrecognisable. [...] Normally that sort of reply would at least elicit some playful scolding. Fleet grew concerned. [...] "Do you want to talk about it?" [...] " What do you want to talk about?" [...] He tried to think of more options. Not talking about things was Fleet's speciality, but for Clara this signalled a worrying malaise. Things were dire. He was going to have to resort to small talk. "Would you like to hear about my day?" A brief pause. "Yes," she replied, with a note of hope [...] Fleet remembered the mess he was in before he switched to the task of cheering up Clara.

p184: When he saw her, she noticed his eyes were shining with a rare zeal, and he appeared bursting to explain whatever he was thinking.

p187: Fleet had, after all, taken her under his wing, even if she did have to thrust herself there initially. She thought about the door plaque he’d had engraved with both their names on it as his way of inviting her to be his business partner – typical Fleet, refusing to tell her so much as his favourite breakfast food and then to go and do something like that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

p201: [After Fleet sees a magpie get electrocuted] Fleet looked at Clara, who thankfully had been facing the other way.

p214: [After Fleet falls into the frozen river] Clara, removing her cape and placing it over Fleet's shoulders

p225: [Clara] had read several books on the subject - Surreptitious Sleuthing, Introduction to Ingression, Undetectable Detection, to name a few - but she always seemed to pick up more from her partner, whose years in the police had left him full of [useful tricks].

p235: [While navigating the Brunellian tunnels for the first time] "I still think my way is more fun." / "Escape, Clara. Escape and then fun." / "That's a promise, Fleet. You've promised it now.”

p259: “That's too much topiary,” said Fleet [...] Clara's eyes lit up at this rare revelation of a personal opinion from her colleague. “I didn't know you had such strong views on topiary, Fleet.”

p293: [When Crowe increases how much he'd be willing to pay them to investigate on his behalf] Fleet knew his answer, but felt he had to see whether Clara was still in agreement. He looked to her, only to be met with an expression of astonishment that he had taken even this long to respond.

p337: [After their falling out] Where do you even begin, she thought, let alone end, with someone you've worked with so closely?

p338: [After they squash the scone Fleet brought Clara as part of his apology] "You want me to eat an exploded scone!" cried Clara, stifling laughter.”/ “I think it says a lot if you refuse.” / “Fine,” she said, grabbing the bag, pulling out the crushed scone and taking an enormous bite. / The corners of Fleet's mouth twitched. Clara was sure he almost laughed.

p341: [Before they go into the Church of the Mechanical Man to look for Helena Evans] Clara smiled, and punched him in the shoulder. / "Ow! What was that for?" / Clara realised that in her excitement at Fleet's plan she had landed her friendly thump with rather more power than intended, so she clarified: "You're a good one, Fleet.”

p371: [After Fleet gets shot in the shoulder] Fleet thought he heard Clara scream his name, but he couldn't be sure. Suddenly she was next to him, checking his shoulder.

p371-372: Clara turned to Fleet. “Now I have an idea.” / “What kind of idea?” / “A terrible idea. Just the worst idea I've ever had.” / Fleet looked towards the distant exit, which could barely be seen beyond the fire, and then back to Clara. “I like it.”

p373: [As they anticipate an oncoming wave of molten metal] Fleet felt a sensation he did not recognise. Something like calm. Then Clara took his hand and turned him towards her. For some insufferable reason she was smiling again. He couldn't help but return it. [...] Fleet realised Clara still had his hand firmly in hers, and she seemed to be saying something at him that he couldn't hear. He tried to listen, but she stopped speaking, shook her head, threw her arms around him and hauled him down onto the ground.

p375: [When Clara won't tell Fleet whether she knew they were going to be saved by Helena Evans] “And you don't think this might affect how likely I am to trust your plans in the future?” / “Does it?” asked Clara. [...] “No,” said Fleet. “It doesn't.”

p381: Clara stiffened her posture, as though she might salute. "Archibald Fleet, I challenge you to a battle of business." / "We're partners, Clara. We're on the same side." / "A point for whoever solves a case first! More for trickier ones!" / "But we work together..." / "Let battle commence!" she cried.

#High Vaultage #Victoriocity #Clara Entwhistle #Archibald Fleet #There's just so much care and affection and trust and respect and understanding and humour between them #in the midst of all their differences #One of the nice things about the move to book format #is the chance to see more inside the characters' heads and to know more about their body language #And you can really tell the attention they pay to each other #like all of the times one of them looks over to the other to check in or to express a feeling #Almost all of the times Fleet smiles or almost-smiles in the book are at something Clara says or does #I had a system of pencil symbols for annotating as I was reading #e.g. an asterisk for every bit that made me laugh #a little heart for the sweet moments for character dynamics #so this is a good chunk but not even all of the lines with hearts next to them #Btw I'm in the process of writing a long ass post about the potential to read Fleet and Clara's dynamic through a QPR lens #which I'll post after all the S3 episodes are officially out #I guess lmk if you would like to be tagged in that #Inspector Fleet #Clara & Fleet

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