It's all fucked, isn't it?

Roleplay and fanblog for Jay Baruchel of This is the End.

Note this is not a roleplay blog for the actor, but rather his character portrayed in the movie. He will reference other things in his life, but this blog will be focused on the asshole-ish tone that Jay sported in the film (as I am vaguely uncomfortable playing rl Jay Baruchel).

Please read the about page for more information.

Hello, sorry for my mini-hiatus. 

I’ll be replying to drafts, and maybe making some new ones?

/hint

/hint

1 year ago on July 3rd | J | 0 notes
1 year ago on July 3rd | J | 283 notes

Jay would like to wish you all a Happy Canada day!

1 year ago on July 1st | J | 1 note

Sorry for being so inactive these past few days, guys - weekends are always really busy for me. I’ll be online much more Monday!

1 year ago on June 30th | J | 0 notes
1 year ago on June 30th | J | 335 notes

ahhhhh why was picking a fandom name for Jay a thing

can that not be a thing

1 year ago on June 29th | J | 6 notes
1 year ago on June 28th | J | 188 notes
1 year ago on June 28th | J | 534 notes

If you call me a tosspot one more fucking time.

freydianslip:

She grinned a little and lowered her head to the ground with a little laugh, trying to focus on the last time they’d met. Binary star systems - colliding and destroying and something beautiful in the making (and that was the nicest way of putting it), angels eating humans, something bruised, cruel, and sarcastic. He was nice to tease, she remembered, and that was good because she was thinking she might have to torch a martini and slam it down to entertain herself.

She made a low and unsure noise as she brought her head up and grimaced, following it up with a shrug and a non-judgmental close of her eyes that said she was doing the exact opposite, “‘Dragon’, huh? Can’t imagine many hens ge’ as far as th’ door if they hav’ tae call ye tha’. ‘Course, ye couldae tattooed it oan yer knuckles.” The vain little thing preened with her nickname, practically heralding him like a cat would with someone falling right into her trap for milk and treats.

“Fer th’ record, lov’—” She said casually, rolling her shoulder along the wall to step closer to him, “I don’ sound like a drunk Craig Ferguson.” And it had been true, for the most part; American wasn’t something she fancied nor wanted to be part of. “An’ I <I>don’</I> waste time oan broomsticks like ye, unless o’course they’re tellin’ nocunt in particular tae fuck them.”

Quieting down, Freydis’ gaze sharpened and she smirked the smile of a madwoman, raising an eyebrow and licking the middle of her bottom lip, “Ah … I don’ know, is yer career dyin’? Ye had so much tae live for, wee lamb…” 

“Aye, only rolled in spliffs, though. See, if I had incentive tae share them, I might consider ye in tha’ close an’ personal circle. As ‘t is, ‘m thinkin’ of blowin’ this place an’ returning hame — pure dead luck for ye, aye?”

He’d been away for so long, distracted by the high-speed lifestyle of writing, producing, acting, and playing with his cats. He’d slowly forgotten about all those besides Seth, the many people he’d encountered and gotten a hair’s width of connection with. 

Freydis, however, was hard to forget. With her small body but loud personality, her entire essence screaming a giant “fuck you, I’d like to see you try” to the skies. She didn’t try being independent, being strong-willed, being proud - she just was,and not many people could say that much about themselves. At first she was a pretty face, that fiery blonde with the clever glint in her eye that he liked - but after seeing her a few more passing times, he grew to crave her wit, the snotty way she threw all of his rogue comments back in his face with an amused chortle and a Scottish flair he didn’t yet understand. 

But he wanted to.

"Oh yeah, lining up at the door," he said with a wave of the hand. "And just how many knuckles do you think I have?" He added, examining his own knuckles for added effect. 

He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Eh, sorry, I give what I get to work with,” he said. “I worked with Craig for a while, so he’s all the experience I’ve got.” 

He canted his head a bit, running his hand over his mouth as he thought about her phrasing. “As you implied,” he said carefully, “I don’t exactly have people lining up at the door. I’m more of the naively-wait-for-the-right-girl type.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. 

"What makes you say that?" he asked, smirking down at her. "Is it because I’ve been dedicating more time to writing, or that I’ve spent more time in Canada, or that you’re just trying to poke a tosspot like me into revealing his insecurities?" He shook his head. "I don’t care if my career dies. I like what I do. There’s always something to do in this godforsaken country, anyway, eh?

"And here I thought I was being interesting enough to motivate you to stay. I was glad to see you again - I’d be crushed if you left now. Honestly, there could be tears.” 

1 year ago on June 28th | J | 5 notes

likemars:

I love him when he’s obnoxious

1 year ago on June 28th | J | 70 notes