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thoughtsfromlayla · 16 days

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Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific.

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined.

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things.

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts.

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off.

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it.

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly.

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world.

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house.

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile.

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food.

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it.

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly.

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move.

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher.

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead.

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene.

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again.

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved.

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you.

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu.

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream.

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you.

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by.

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments.

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead.

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket.

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again.

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?”

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond.

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose.

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you.

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow.

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment.

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens.

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious.

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing.

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again.

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city.

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place.

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor.

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety.

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion.

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life.

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread.

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him.

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude.

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways.

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then.

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place.

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.”

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds.

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card.

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself.

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection.

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer.

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile.

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside.

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval.

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along.

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming.

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions.

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks.

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t.

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself.

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room.

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around.

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway.

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up.

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks.

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news.

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove.

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made.

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself.

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak.

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink.

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie.

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding.

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body.

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open.

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake.

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead.

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body.

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up.

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again.

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back.

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign.

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly.

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth.

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet.

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here.

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water.

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver”

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control.

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief.

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going.

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer.

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words.

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason.

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense.

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you.

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream.

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily.

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks.

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water.

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake.

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you.

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him.

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall.

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream.

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer.

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life.

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment.

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine.

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment.

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.”

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers.

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath.

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?”

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin.

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh.

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead.

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger.

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out.

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave.

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails.

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together.

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in.

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter.

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice.

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside.

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you.

“Help me,” She pleads.

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table.

“Please.” She sobs again.

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring.

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago.

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces.

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her.

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again.

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never…

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five.

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five.

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you.

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you.

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent.

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be.

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face.

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave.

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder.

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again.

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean.

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment.

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here.

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you.

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium.

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!”

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know.

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood.

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight.

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand.

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you.

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver.

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words.

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage.

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.”

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand.

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face.

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade.

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile.

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader

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shitpostingperidot · 2 months

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How old is Carol Danvers???

(Inspired by a post by @blindluck which was in turn inspired by a post by me and @marvelsassbutts )

So I just found out the official Captain Marvel wiki places Carol Danvers’s birth date in 1965. At first I thought “that’s ridiculous” for reasons that will become clear through this long ass post. But then I saw they cited drawings by the assistant art director on Captain Marvel, found on her portfolio! That’s pretty official!

Wait what’s that at the bottom…

1984???? For Carol’s USAFA basic training???? This is impossible, the movie is wrong, and here’s why.

(Excerpt from my future video essay incoming)

There are no dates in Higher, Further, Faster; the marketing text on Amazon, Liza Palmer’s website, etc just says “80s.” So, we need to do some detective work.

We know that the 2019 film Captain Marvel takes place in 1995. Since it takes place in Southern California and Louisiana, the warm weather doesn’t tell us much about the time of year. Personally, I believe it takes place on March 8, 1995, because that’s the exact day I was born, and my birthday is the day the movie was released on to coincide with International Women’s Day. Regardless, Monica Rambeau is eleven years old in the film, putting her birth in 1983 or 1984. So, Maria’s pregnancy must have begun in 1982 or 1983.

Here’s a “fun” fact about US military academies: until less than one year ago (summer 2023, a full three years after Captain Marvel came out), cadets at USAFA who became pregnant were required to either drop out, have an abortion, or relinquish their parental rights to their child.

Dropping out also means reimbursing the government for your tuition for all classes you’ve taken up to this point, and giving up your ability to be commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force upon graduation. Definitely not an option someone as driven as Maria wants to consider. In fact, we know this isn’t what happened, because this news article Carol hung up in her spaceship in The Marvels says that Maria Rambeau is a USAFA graduate.

We also know that Maria didn’t have an abortion, because, well, Monica Rambeau herself is tangible evidence. Theoretically, it is possible for Maria to have given up parental rights and adopted back her own child after graduation. Before the policy change in 2023 that allowed cadets to be parents, many found this to be their best option (see the article I screenshotted above). However, this process is really expensive and takes a lot of work with a lawyer over a period of months or years. From the little we know of Carol and Maria’s life pre-crash, (it was busy, they lived in an expensive area, and Maria only had Carol for support), I think we can assume that it’s less likely that Maria was forced to adopt her own daughter than that Maria graduated USAFA before becoming pregnant in 1982 or 83.

That still doesn’t answer the question of when this book takes place, though. The exact year is important, as the military had some major differences under the Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan administrations of the 70s and 80s, and one of the things I want to assess this book on is accuracy.

Oh wait, what’s that? Another discriminatory policy that helps us date this book? That’s right, USAFA didn’t enroll women as cadets until Public Law 94-106 went into effect in 1976.

What’s more, Carol and Maria cannot have been part of this first group of women cadets, because in the book, there is an upperclassman character who is a woman. Officer Cadet Chen is one of the leaders of Basic Training for Carol and Maria’s flight, a position cadets aren’t allowed to hold until their third or fourth year at the Academy.

So, Carol and Maria must enter USAFA no earlier than 1978 to be two or more years younger than Chen, and must graduate no later than 1983 for Monica to exist. To comply with the marketing blurb’s declaration that this book takes place “in the 80s”, let’s say that Carol and Maria’s first year is the 1979-1980 school year.

(End excerpt)

In conclusion, Maria and Carol were born in 1960 or 1961 (with pretty equal likelihood of which birthday makes them 18 at the start of the book, since USAFA basic happens the summer before the school year), not 1965. It would be impossible for them to have done basic training in 1984 as in the production drawing, because they would have to have already graduated and be well on their way to test pilot school which is a whole other policy can of worms before Monica’s birth in 1983 or 1984.

In conclusion conclusion, Carol is ~34 in Captain Marvel and ~64 in The Marvels, and the MCU should hire fans to fact check for them.

#thank u blindluck for bringing my attention to this wiki I had such a fun time on this rabbit hole #the marvels #captain marvel #carol danvers #maria rambeau #higher further faster book #carolmaria #danbeau #monica rambeau

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scenikeight · 1 year

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What My Father Wanted was to Kill God: Reflecting on the cycle of Rebuild of Evangelion

It's been two years now, since Evangelion 3.0+1.0 hit Japanese cinemas for the first time.

I think many of us chose to say goodbye to Eva on that day, too, leaving satisfied. I can't fault anyone for this. But there's a part of me that stings knowing that 3.0+1.0 has been left relatively un-combed-through in comparison to the other films, and I don't feel right leaving it this way. Today, I want to dissect "loop theory" - what it was before 3.0+1.0 came out, in what ways we missed the mark back then, and finally, what the resolution of 3.0+1.0 meant for the story. I want to understand what it meant to kill God.

This article was heavily inspired by "What was loop theory? Investigating the truth after Evangelion 3.0+1.0", by Japanese fan-channel Eva Fan. If you want to understand the meta angle of Rebuild better (i.e. "why does Rebuild even exist in the first place?"), please watch the NHK Professional documentary on Anno and the production of 3.0+1.0 (not "The Final Challenge of Evangelion" version on Amazon, although you should watch this one too because they're both great.) The meta of Rebuild is outside the scope of this article.

SECTION 1: WHAT WAS LOOP THEORY?

If you're already familiar with the basis of loop theory, you can probably skip this section and head to section 2. This is gonna be a lot of recap. I, for one, have never been a huge fan of the idea of "loop theory". This isn't to say that I've ever disagreed with the conclusion that Rebuild's world is stuck in a loop, more that I felt like painting it as a "theory" is seeding more ground to bad faith actors in the fandom than necessary. However, I'm using the term here to refer generally to different theories about the loops, namely those regarding Kaworu and potential connections with End of Eva. Now that all of the disclaimers are out of the way... ESTABLISHING OUR BASES, PART 1: THE MESSENGER

From the moment he's introduced, Kaworu's entire purpose in the first two films seems to be establishing the loop to the audience. His familiarity with previous versions of Shinji is front and centre in the very first line he speaks.

Some relevant lines from Kaworu in 1.0, 2.0 and 3.0. Full sized image here.

While at this stage, we lack information on how much Kaworu knows, we are at least aware of his knowledge of previous iterations of the Eva world in that first line there: "The Third one again". This is compounded at the very end of 2.0, in which he declares that "this time" (as opposed to previous times, presumably failed attempts), he will make Shinji happy. In 3.0, there's a moment in which he seems to confirm to himself his musing in NGE of having been "born to meet" Shinji (notice the lack of のかもしれない "probably"), and following some more ambiguous lines we'll skip over, at the end of a long speech about parts of ourselves remaining in the world even after we're gone, he suggests he and Shinji will see each other again just before he dies.

These lines lead some fans to believe that the loops were in some way or another, under Kaworu's control. This iteration of loop theory suggested that the loops exist so that Kaworu, who remembers the events of NGE, can achieve his goal of "making Shinji happy".

ESTABLISHING OUR BASES, PART 2: THE RED SEA

Non-exhaustive chart of potential connections between Rebuild and NGE/EOE, compiled by users on /a/ board in 2011. Full sized image here.

There are several environmental aspects of Rebuild's world that seemed to suggest a connection to The End of Evangelion, most obvious amongst these being the red sea. As Kaji explains in 2.0, the seas were blue prior to Second Impact. Flashbacks to this event reveal that it bore slightly more in common with EOE's Third Impact than NGE's Second; note the presence of the Black Moon in the comparison above. Early on in 1.0, there's a shot that shows cross-shaped white outlines in the red sea, that appear to be remnants of EOE's crucified mass production units. The moon in Rebuild also has a large, red streak on its surface, that could be the bloodstain that was left there by Lilith in EOE. Additionally, Shinji's SDAT in NGE always looped the same two songs, shown under the track numbers 25 and 26. In Rebuild, Shinji's SDAT's track number begins at 27, and goes up from there (it seems to represent the relationships he forms with other people). Some iterations of loop theory suggested that Rebuild was set directly after End of Eva, and that the events of Second Impact as remembered by the cast were actually EOE's Third Impact. Additionally, though its relevance to any canonical NGE content is tenuous (tenuous, but not irrelevant when it comes to Rebuild; see the bonus chapter), Sadamoto's NGE manga also ends with a kind of timeloop.

From the epilogue chapter of Yoshiyuki Sadamoto's Neon Genesis Evangelion manga. Full sized image here. After Instrumentality, the epilogue flashes forward to a long time in the future, where the crucified Evas are seen as some kind of relic from an unknown time. We see Shinji, Asuka and Kensuke reincarnated, and Shinji and Asuka meet for the first time, with some sense that they've seen each other before.

Full sized image here. This ending could be seen as an explanation of sorts of what's going on in Rebuild; the characters have been reincarnated a long time after the fact, while elements of the old world remain as part of the environment.

ESTABLISHING OUR BASES, PART 3: DOUBT

It should go without saying that, even at the time, these particular conclusions had holes in them. (This is to say nothing of the hundreds of other iterations of loop theory; if we went through every whacky headcanon explanation people posted on Reddit under the guise of it being any kind of genuine theorization, we'd be here all day)

Sequel Theory, especially past 3.0, required you to ignore contradictory information being presented in the same scenes the evidence being drawn on was. The comparison image I included earlier (it pre-dates 3.0's release, but was certainly spread around long after the fact) suggests that the Four Adams as they appear in 2.0's flashback could have been the Mass Production Evas (of which there are 8, not 4!). Two of the lines from Kaworu it included also don't support this line of reasoning; both "This time..." and "You don't change" imply multiple previous loops, not a singular. And while we haven't mentioned them so far, the coffin he emerges from in 1.0 being one of several was also something people were aware of back then. Speaking of Kaworu - Shinji's Happiness Theory doesn't seem to line up with the way he goes out in NGE, either. He asks Shinji to kill him with the goal of achieving true freedom; it doesn't seem like he's looking for a next time, but rather an ending, away from his destiny as an angel. It doesn't really follow that Rebuild's loops would be a journey he'd set himself on willingly, rather a circumstance he's put into by some other force.

SECTION 2: PAYOFF

3.0+1.0 responds to the foreshadowing of previous entries in a way that's kind of inconclusive, on its face. I'm going to save the potential answers for the next section; for now, let's just go over the information we did get, including some things you may have missed. PAYOFF, PART 1: OUT IN THE OPEN

Kaworu describes Gendo as being the origin of the cycle. Full sized image here.

Our first piece of confirmation, and first in-universe mention of the loops (or "cycle"/"circle"), is this line. "Gendo was the center of Instrumentality this time", the "this time" implying there have been other Instrumentalities with other person/s at the center. "Origin of the cycle" may indicate that Gendo is in control of the loops as a whole, or it may instead indicate that different people start them, perhaps through Instrumentality.

Asuka wakes up on the beach. Full sized image here.

After coming to terms with her feelings, Asuka "wakes up" in the same spot she was lying at the end of EOE, wondering if she was asleep. This is still in the anti-universe, but as was established by Gendo earlier on in the film, the Evangelion Imaginary and the anti-universe as a whole manifest as parts of one's memory. Asuka is our POV character for this section with her, so she must recall having been here. Maybe you could interpret "was I asleep?" as Soryu, specifically, having woken up.

Selections from Kaworu's Instrumentality. Full sized image here.

Anything that focused on Kaworu here was always going to be the juiciest in relation to the loops, but it's surprisingly upfront even then: There have been multiple previous loops, and Kaworu is not in control of them, he just continues to exist without agency over them like all of the other key players do. (That's both of our aforementioned Theories disproven in one scene!)

Kaworu introduces the "Book of Life", Kaji clarifies the details. Full sized image here.

We're also introduced to a new concept here, the "Book of Life". There's very limited information on what this does, but at least Kaji is here to fill in some details Kaworu conveniently leaves out, as he likes to do (that, if nothing else, Shinji and him meeting over and over again is something Kaworu has power over.)

Rei and Shinji discuss the birth of a new world. Full sized image here. Most of Rei's instrumentality scene exists to wrap up the other aspect of Rebuild's narrative we're not talking about here, so I'll skip past all of that to this: with Unit-01 and the Spear of Gaius, Shinji is capable of creating a new world, through a power known as Neon Genesis. It may be worth noting that Shinji has to clarify that he isn't going to rewind time or revert the world, just create a new one on top of the existing. This may establish a precedent for characters in control of Instrumentality being able to do both of those things.

PAYOFF, PART 2: A CLOSER LOOK NGE has a LOT of references to the years its set in. Even beyond the on-screen text, there's plenty of instances of plaques and other signs with the 2015 date on them. Rebuild, however...

Yui's grave as it appears in 2.0. Full sized image here. The only time we ever see a date in the first three films is here, on Yui's gravestone in 2.0. It's partially obscured by flowers, and may appear at first to read the same as her NGE grave did. On closer inspection, though, you can clearly see there's a 0 in front of 2004.

This could be what the gravestone has written on it. Full sized image here. One time could mean anything, but it becomes a pattern when we see more dates in 3.0+1.0...

The manufacture information on the railway track turntable in Village-3. Full sized image here.

The plaque on the AAA Wunder. Full sized image here.

Looking at that date given on the railway turntable, the earliest date 3.0+1.0 could take place is the year 12001. This, combined with the physical evidence present in the first two films, seems to imply that Rebuild follows the same rules established in the Sadamoto manga, that the loop isn't necessarily a reset of the world, but rather a continuous stream of time in which the characters are reincarnated. It makes sense Sadamoto would use this as the basis for his ending, too - he worked on the first two films, and the Mari bonus chapter clearly demonstrates that certain aspects of Rebuild were solidified during their production. Furthermore, the scene in which Shinji asks Gendo what he wishes for has more visual references to EOE than you might think...

Gendo grasps his right arm, as if he remembers the time he lost it. Full sized image here. The arm thing is obvious, and the line he says there could be about EOE, but you might notice something else in that image on the left there. There's a picture of Shinji in the background. That image comes from one of the flashing sequences in EOE's Third Impact, in fact, the entire sequence is overlaid on top of that shot of Gendo.

This shot in 3.0+1.0 versus the same sequence in EOE. The encode of 3+1 I was using was dropping frames here, so I had to cut some of it out. Video mirror here.

By the way, adult Asuka's official name, as used in every piece of merchandising she's been in so far, is just "Asuka Langley", not "Asuka Langley Shikinami" or "Asuka Langley Soryu".

Good Smile Company's "1/7 Scale Figure: Asuka Langley". She has a fair few figures, all of them with this name. Other merchandise never calls regular Asuka this. Full sized image here.

Rei holds a doll of Tsubame. Full sized image here.

The same thing ends up happening with Rei in-universe. The version of her with long hair is clearly Rei from 2.0, who has been inside the entry plug this whole time, but when we see her on the stage, she's holding a baby doll. It has Tsubame (Hikari and Toji's daughter)'s name written on it. It seems to follow that different versions of the same character end up re-joining into one during instrumentality, be that cross-loop like Soryu and Shikinami, or in-loop, like Rei and Sokkuri (Lookalike). This would appear to go beyond just regaining memories of previous loops, as Rei and Sokkuri existed in the same loop independently of one another.

SECTION 3: A PROPOSAL

And now, to get into the real meat of the issue. ...Whose doing was this, exactly?

Here's the thing: Kaworu, we can already rule out. We know it wasn't him. The next most likely candidate you might think of is Gendo, but... is he, really? Because Gendo died in EOE (perhaps not physically, but regardless), killed by Yui, but ultimately of his own volition. He had come to terms with himself when he died. He doesn't seem like someone who would have still had unfinished business. Then, what of Shinji? Well, I think it's the same deal with him, too. Shinji might not have found his place in life at the end of EOE, but he also doesn't seem like he was clamoring to start over, after all of that. In their video, "What was loop theory? Investigating the truth after Evangelion 3.0+1.0", Japanese Eva fan, Eva Fan (lol), of Minna no Eva Fan fame, gives us a different answer:

It was Yui.

Yui entered the Eva experiment for Shinji's sake. Full sized image here.

Yui's motives in NGE may have been left mostly up to the audiences' interpretation, but I don't think there's any doubt she loved her son more than anything.

As Unit-01, she becomes God at the end of EOE, accepting the burden of being the eternal proof of mankind's existence. She leaves Shinji behind, knowing that he still hasn't found his place in life.

A PROPOSAL, PART 1: YOU WERE WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT

Yui leaves Shinji as he comes into his own. Full sized image here.

The end point of the loops and emergence into the new world: Shinji makes the decision to create a world that doesn't need the Eva. Shinji and Yui, previously one being, separate. Shinji breaks the curse of the Eva, becoming an adult, and now away from his mother, emerges into the real world.

As explained by Gendo, the anti-universe, the end point of Rebuild's story, is also the beginning, and somewhere Yui, at one point, resided.

The beginning and the end are one in the same. Full sized image here. The anti-universe is "the one and only place fate may be bent to one's will". Shinji, in his parting words to Yui in EOE, tells her he thinks he'll keep making the same mistakes over and over. To quote Hideaki Anno: Eva is a story that repeats. In the aforementioned Eva Fan video, they suggest that the anti-universe may in fact be the world of NGE (perhaps, the world inside of Unit-01). Yui creates a new world through Neon Genesis, one which resembles the old, to tell the story of Shinji anew. To give him another chance to grow. For as long as Eva is Shinji's story, it is Yui's; her goal was to bring Shinji a bright future, after all. The act of piloting the Eva sees the child return to the place they resided before birth; back into the comfort of their mother's womb. In Rebuild, the “mother” seems to become all but irrelevant - Yui Ayanami may reside inside Unit-01 but this is never touched on in the same way; Asuka’s mother doesn’t seem to even exist, and her original seems to reside inside Unit-13. The existence or non-existence of a mother’s soul inside of an Eva dictates nothing about who can synchronize with it (see: Unit-02, Unit-08, Unit-13, etc). However, taking a step back, it’s almost as if the reason why the presence of the “mother” is missing from the material world of Rebuild is because the entire series takes place within the world the mother created. If Shinji entering the cockpit of an Eva unit in NGE is returning to the womb, then what is Shinji doing by existing in the world of Rebuild?

In deciding to create a world that doesn't need the Eva, Shinji is accepting life without his mother. The parting of mother and son represents the break in the loop. He emerges into the new world, reborn as an adult.

INTERJECTION: WHAT’S IN A NAME?: YUI IKARI/YUI AYANAMI

Rebuild’s Yui’s name isn’t Yui Ikari (at least, her maiden name isn’t) - It’s Yui Ayanami. In NGE, Gendo took her surname when they married. In Rebuild, Gendo already had the surname Ikari, and Yui Ayanami took his.

I think fans have been generally puzzled by the purpose of this change, but this interpretation - that Yui Ikari from NGE is the heart of the loop, the God that created the world and the God that Gendo would kill at the end of 3.0+1.0 - would seem to explain why this is the case. She’s Yui Ayanami because she’s a copy - like Rei is - of the original Yui. A Yui created by Yui Ikari. This also may explain why the date on Yui's grave says "02004" - after all, it's the grave of Yui Ikari, not the grave of Yui Ayanami.

Rei of NGE is more than just a clone of Yui, she also holds a piece of Yui’s soul (in the form of emotional memory), while Yui herself resides in Unit-01. Therefore, it stands to reason that Yui Ayanami is not really an individual, but rather someone who holds a piece of Yui Ikari’s soul - I think even more so than Rei (who undeniably is an individual). Yui Ayanami may function as a kind of messenger for Yui Ikari, who holds the knowledge she has and steers the story in the direction it needs to go. There are many players in Rebuild who are more like symbols than characters, and I think this is a huge part of why Yui Ayanami is not a character like Yui Ikari was.

For the sake of brevity, I’m going to use “Yui Ikari” to refer to Original Yui, and “Yui Ayanami” to refer to Rebuild Yui, unless stated otherwise, for the remainder of this post.

A PROPOSAL, PART 2: ...WERE YOU THERE THE WHOLE TIME?

Kaworu himself wasn't brought into Instrumentality in EOE directly. Rather, the fetus of Adam was, through Rei intaking Gendo's hand. If souls like Rei and Sokkuri are capable of rejoining into one in Instrumentality, I wonder if the presence of Kaworu in Instrumentality can be explained by his soul rejoining with that of the Adam fetus. He definitely appears as Adam there, the same way Rei is Lilith. Which brings us to this:

Shinji and Gendo upon seeing familiar souls: "Were you there the whole time?". Full sized image here.

Gendo offers Shinji the apology he never got to hear in EOE, and then realizes: Yui's soul was residing in Shinji. Instrumentality likely reconciled the souls of Yui Ayanami (the individual who became Unit-01 in this timeline) and Yui Ikari (the soul who lived on as God, and in her son), the same way it may have reconciled Kaworu and Adam's.

For as long as Yui's soul resided in Unit-01, and in Shinji, her story was not over. For as long as Shinji was stuck in his loop of making the same mistakes over and over, Eva's story was not over. For as long as the Eva exists, Yui will, and End of Eva leaves Yui there, in space, as the eternal proof mankind existed at all.

If 3.0+1.0 says "goodbye to all of Evangelion", it must be the end of Yui Ikari's story, too.

INTERJECTION: WHAT’S IN A NAME?: “SHIN EVANGELION”

The Japanese title of Evangelion 3.0+1.0: Thrice Upon A Time is シン・エヴァンゲリオン劇場版𝄇, (Romaji: Shin Evangerion Gekijouban𝄇, English: Shin* Evangelion Theatrical Edition𝄇”).

There are three points of interest in this title:

Shin - The use of “Shin” here falls in line with the titles of Hideaki Anno’s other recent films: Shin Godzilla, Shin Ultraman, and the upcoming Shin Kamen Rider. While I’m not really the best person to explain this as I’m not really familiar with the source material, the other Shin films are based pretty heavily on earlier works in their respective franchises (I believe both Shin Godzilla and Shin Ultraman have sequences that are recreations of scenes from the original movie/series). Shin Eva also, obviously, does the same thing with NGE and EOE scenes. *According to an interview with producer Akihiro Yamauchi on Shin Godzilla, the title of “Shin” was chosen for the film due to the variety of meanings it conveys. In all four titles, it is written ambiguously, and could be read as “new”, “true”, or “God”, amongst other things.

Evangelion - NGE’s title and Rebuild’s title are actually spelled differently. エヴァンゲリオン is the spelling of Evangelion used in NGE, ヱヴァンゲリヲン is the spelling used in Rebuild’s title (not the in-universe machines, for the record). They’re pronounced the same way, but Rebuild’s spelling uses characters that are a little archaic (if you want to get technical, it could be romanized as “Wevangeriwon”; note the use of “wo” instead of “o” just like in Kaworu’s name, and you probably get it.) Shin Evangelion uses the NGE spelling, not the Rebuild spelling, which makes it sound like “Shin Neon Genesis Evangelion Movies”, not “Fourth Entry in the Rebuild Franchise” (in fact, “Evangelion Gekijouban” comes from Death and Rebirth/End of Eva’s Japanese names). Earlier posters for this film in English gave it the NGE font rather than a Rebuild style logo, which pretty accurately represents how this looks.

The symbol at the end - The symbol at the end of the title, is a symbol that’s used in sheet music. This could be read two ways - “Shin Evangelion Gekijouban: End”, or “Shin Evangelion Gekijouban Repeat”; If you assume 𝄇 is one symbol, then it’s a “repeat” sign (tells the player to repeat a section of the sheet music). If you assume it’s a colon and then a subtitle, then it’s an “end” sign (𝄂, signifies the end of the piece.)

A PROPOSAL, FINAL PART: TO KILL GOD

Full sized image here. Gendo's goal in NGE and Rebuild is the same: To be reunited with Yui. In Rebuild, he will become God through the use of the Key of Nebuchadnezzar and trigger the Additional Impact with himself at the center, so he can see her again in Instrumentality. But there's a second aspect to this plan... Killing God.

Gendo lays out his intentions. Full sized image here.

I think it would be naïve of me to suggest that Gendo had any intention of ending things when he said this. These lines obviously pertain to something else (I think all of this is covered in the process of beginning the Additional Impact anyway), and it's made clear that he goes into Instrumentality as stubbornly as he always is. He fully intended to destroy all of the spears, so nobody would have any way of manipulating or ending Instrumentality, so he could live peacefully with Yui for the rest of time.

Whatever it might have meant there... "Killing God" takes on a completely different meaning by the end of the film. Yui Ikari is an existence that will live on indefinitely; someone who will never die, even long after humanity is gone. In becoming Unit-01, she alone will wait in the universe forever. She once resided in the anti-universe; the Promised Land, the one and only place fate may be bent to one's will; she created the world of Rebuild of Evangelion, the beginning of everything. Yui did all of this to give her son a better life. To let him try over and over again until he broke the curse of the Eva, and emerged into a brighter future.

She, Unit-01, Evangelion as a whole, could not rest until Shinji grew into his own. Gendo comes to the conclusion during Instrumentality, after bleeding his heart out to his son, that he isn't any closer to reuniting with her.

Full sized image here.

But after acknowledging Shinji's adulthood, accepting his own fragility, and resolving their story...

Full sized image here.

...He realizes she was right in front of him this whole time.

Full sized image here.

With this, Gendo exits the train - the same train his story began, the train station he abandoned Shinji at all of those years ago - his story is over. He no longer seeks eternal life with Yui. As Shinji breaks his own curse of Eva and is reborn out of the comfort of his mother's world, and into a world of his own creation, he says goodbye to all Evangelion.

Full sized image here. Gendo, in peace at the end of his own long journey, is willing to let Yui sleep. And so, he kills God.

Full sized image here.

#evangelion #rebuild of evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #analysis #yui ikari #gendo ikari #shinji ikari #kaworu nagisa #yui ayanami #evangelion 3.0+1.0 #shin evangelion #shin eva #nge #eva #loop theory

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copperbadge · 4 months

Note

Supposedly, people with Anphantasia don't get scared reading scary stories, or at least not much. Is that true with you if you ever read Horror?

You know, I'd never thought about it, but I suppose it is. To an extent, anyway.

Follows a discussion of my relationship to horror prose and media; if you don't know what aphantasia is, as many people coming to this tumblr don't, I have a tag for it here that may help -- it's basically the lack of a "mind's eye", a visual imagination, so I hear/read things and don't see an image of them in my mind. If you are scoffing right now that nobody actually has a mind's eye, congratulations, you may also have aphantasia. The articles linked in the tag will be useful to you.

I have definitely been scared by prose before but it's very rare, and not much since I was a child, when the stories I found scary were preying on fears I already had. I loved the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark books, and I think it's not unusual that I found the illustrations more frightening than the prose, but the only story that ever scared me was the one about the vampire who kept trying to grab a kid through a window -- because I had a window over my bed in my childhood bedroom and I was terrified I'd look up to see someone looking down at me through it. Likewise, as an adult, the only content in horror I find scary is what I think of as "mind horror" -- the loss of faculty or the loss of awareness of faculty (think the end scene of the novel Hannibal with the brain). Which is one of my biggest fears.

I don't read much horror because generally I get bored, which has in the past made me feel faintly appalled at myself, but which now makes more sense. Certainly I have no interest in slasher-style gore in prose, because I find it uninteresting and it goes on a really long time, while I don't watch it in movies/TV because the visual is upsetting -- so if I was getting the visual from the prose I might react more emotionally. I am a fan of Stephen King but mostly his early work where he was shorter on suspense, and I was reading it because I liked the ideas and the characters. Carrie is super interesting because of the personalities involved, not because of the violence or the horror aspects. But I've never seen a movie adaptation and I can imagine I would be deeply unsettled if not distraught by certain scenes if depicted visually. Although I didn't find the Hannibal TV series super upsetting (I mostly was put off by how bad I imagined Will smelled) so perhaps body horror just doesn't do it for me.

This may also explain my hard-no on zombie media, because I'm not scared at all of zombies, I just find them boring and gross, and that leaves the post-apocalyptic humans. My hard-no on post-apocalypse anything is an aversion to imagining the end of my world, though, which isn't visual, it's conceptual, and not scary, just upsetting.

Like, people kept suggesting Zombies Run! to me when I was taking up running and -- well, one, I needed the music to keep my pace, I didn't want it interrupted. But two, I didn't see why a bunch of random groaning noises would make me run faster. If you could see zombies chasing you in your head, yeah, that'd probably be more motivating.

It kind of explains too why I haven't written much horror. I used to be very curious about how people worked out what's "scary" in horror prose and I guess part of the curiosity came from not experiencing it myself. It's tough to know how to write a scary story when stories don't scare you.

To be clear, I definitely experience fear. Reading Stephen King's "It" didn't really scare me, but there were scary moments in the film adaptations. I startle at jumpscares. There's plenty of stuff in real life that I'm scared of. And even podcasts -- I don't get mental images during podcasts like apparently most people do, but Magnus Archives got me with the "digging into your pre-existing fears" thing once or twice, and while I didn't finish The Left Right Game (I just got bored) the hitchhiker scene definitely got me. But I think, unless it's playing on something conceptual that already existed, yeah, I don't find prose particularly frightening.

Huh. This feels like the kind of thing that could have a significant impact on my creative output if I could crowbar my way into it. Knowing that I as an aphantic don't need descriptions that other people do has already, I think, impacted my editing process, but this feels like it maybe would somehow have an effect on the whole thing -- the fact that I don't experience emotions when reading in the same way other people do because I don't get the visuals is something to meditate on.

How the fuck did I ever even become a writer. Like what's up with that.

(Ironically it was X-Files fanfic. X-Files, a show that very much did scare me, for which I wrote and read a lot of fanfic, none of which did...yikes. Well, that's something to meditate on for the weekend.)

#sam has adhd #an aphantasia fantasia

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supernovafics · 9 months

Text

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k words

warnings: explicit language, (some) angst, a lil hint of soft!steve, smut (18+), female masturbation, fingering

summary: you wouldn’t necessarily call it a friendship, but what you now had with steve felt quite close to one. it was unexpected but also nice, and as you spend more time with each other it’s easy to see some sort of a change quickly happening

CHAPTER FOUR | ❝𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒈❞

And finally, there was actual peace.

It initially came in the form of Steve surprisingly saying “Thank you” to you when you brought him his coffee that Monday after the drunk incident, and then it gradually grew from there with him actually being nice to you over the next few days and then weeks.

You’d accidentally broken through that asshole exterior and inside there was actually a good person; what you had hoped to see from the beginning. Finally, those articles written about him were proven wrong. At first, you were completely confused by the one-eighty, but you got used to it and you definitely weren’t complaining.

“I can’t believe you’re actually nice to me now.” You had said one night that had been one of the longest days on set; the time was nearing midnight and filming wouldn’t be done until two in the morning.

You’d forgotten to eat dinner, so Steve let you have the rest of the pasta you’d ordered for him a few hours earlier. You sat next to each other on a random bench that wasn’t too far from where he would be needed on set in thirty minutes, and for the first time probably that entire day you weren’t being pulled in a bunch of different directions so you could actually breathe for a bit.

Steve shrugged at your previous words as if him being nice to you wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, which in your mind it really was.

“You can’t just shrug like it’s nothing,” You said with a small playful scoff. “You hated me.”

Steve laughed a bit at how certain you sounded. “Jesus, I didn’t hate you.”

You simply looked at him before taking another bite of pasta and he let out a small sigh, partially and reluctantly agreeing with your words.

“Okay, I didn’t like you at first, but that was mainly because of the whole situation and it didn’t really have anything to do with you, specifically. It’s different now, though,” He told you and you nodded at that response. You expected that to be it— the entirety of the explanation about why things were currently the way they were— but he continued. “I don’t trust people easily and I can be really harsh because of that, which is why almost everyone sees me as the worst guy ever. But, I never really cared because all of those news articles and whatever else don’t matter to me, and it doesn’t stop me from being a good actor.”

He was looking away from you now, staring out at the people moving around the set and getting things ready for the next handful of scenes that would be filmed.

“So, you trust me now? That’s why it’s different?”

He only nodded at your questions, and even with all of the abrupt honesty he was giving you right then, you didn’t expect more than just that nod. You were curious though, and wanted him to say more; wanted him to tell you what made him trust you.

Even though you partially knew the answer and knew that it all came from the drunk incident; you’d helped him when he was feeling sad and lonely and a little homesick. But, he never admitted that to you. Aside from changing and being nice to you, what happened that night was never explicitly talked about.

You looked away from him and stared straight ahead as well, continuing to eat the pasta and letting his previous words sit with you.

A similar conversation happened days later in his trailer. You had actually started finding yourself in there more often than not, usually towards the end of the day when things were a bit calmer.

“I’ve been wondering,” Steve started. He was sitting on the couch and you were leaning against the counter closest to the door where you’d usually leave his food anytime he was filming and couldn’t take it straight from you. Your eyes were on your phone because you were typing an email, but you looked up at Steve when you heard his voice. “When did you get into all of this?”

His question surprised you a bit, but instead of voicing your current confusion as to why he was suddenly curious about you and your past, you answered the question.“Short story, I did a lot of film internships in college. On my first real paid job in the industry that’s where I met Jessie and she saw a lot of potential in me. I was a PA on a bunch of things— movies, tv shows, documentaries— and I did work on a lot of stuff that Jessie did, but it was mostly stuff with other people. And it kind of all grew from there to where I am now.”

“What’s the long story?”

Nobody ever really cared to hear the long version of it all, especially your parents who never seemed to give a damn about your reasons why you wanted to be in this field in the first place. But, for some reason, Steve did want to hear it, and although having that kind of curiosity centered on you was foreign, a part of you still wanted to answer the question.

You placed your phone down next to you and pushed yourself up on the counter. “I’ve always been intrigued by the behind-the-scenes aspects of movies and television. Like the people behind the story; the people that help create it all. The ones that set up the shot that we love so much, or the ones that created the set that helps to perfectly tell the story. And from the moment I first stepped onto a set when I was just an intern getting coffees for people and doing other stupid errands, I loved it. It was pretty brutal and I barely got any recognition for all of the hard work I was doing, but I still loved it. I loved being a part of it all even if it was just in such a small way, and I really loved seeing everything slowly come together.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, which in your mind felt like way too long of a time because you just told him what you don’t think anyone, probably aside from Jessie, knew about you, and you were quickly feeling embarrassed about saying everything you’d just said.

“Sorry, I know that was insanely long-winded,” You mumbled, filling the quiet before Steve could.

He shook his head at your words. “No, I wanted to know, and I think it’s nice how much you really care about all of this.”

You briefly looked at your phone, checking the time; 7:00pm. Filming was officially done for the day, but neither you nor Steve made any move to leave or even think about leaving; that was something that was also happening more often than not.

You placed your phone in the pocket of the light jacket you were wearing and then looked over at Steve. “How did you get into this world?”

The answer to that question could’ve been easy information for you to find, but even as your curiosity toward him grew in recent weeks, you still never looked him up. As things started to change between the two of you— from animosity to friendliness that actually felt close to some sort of a friendship— on some level it didn’t feel right to learn things about him without hearing it straight from him.

“I’m just… good. And someone saw that.” His words didn’t sound cocky at all, more so just factual, and it was a fact that you knew was completely true because you’d seen a few of his movies before. “I was in this short film and it kind of got a lot of recognition, and somehow things all fell into place from there.”

You’d heard about that short film that essentially pushed him into the spotlight. Having a start like that was a rarity, but you knew in some instances and for some people that was all it took; and you thought that for Steve it actually made complete sense.

You really wanted to hear his “long story.” The little things that led him here and made him want to be here; that made him want to have a career that at times could be way too demanding and a little fucked up. For some reason, you felt like there was so much more to it all than things simply “falling into place” like he said, and that was what made you curious.

“Do you love doing all of this?” You asked him.

“I don’t hate it. To me, it just feels like a job a lot of the time, something I’m really good at and want to keep being good at. I don’t care about anything else with it. Honestly, I kinda hate all of the other stuff that comes along with it; press, red carpets, all of that,” He told you. “This part of it all is great, though; filming. Learning about a character and becoming them while also kind of making them your own. I love that the most, and it makes the other stuff a bit more bearable.”

You nodded at that because his words helped make everything else that happened before fully and finally make sense in your head. He cared a lot about this— filming was the only part of the whole “being an actor” thing that he actually liked— which made you understand why he was so serious about it, why you would rarely ever see him with anything other than a script in his hand.

“Are there ever times where you can’t help but wonder if it was all a fluke?” He asked after a beat of silence. “If you’re actually really good, or if everything was just luck in a way?”

Hearing that only further made you want to know more about him; it made you want to know everything, actually. Because you had the smallest feeling that the more you learned, the more you’d realize how similar the two of you really were.

He shook his almost immediately before you could even think about answering the question. “Actually, nevermind, you probably never even think about that; you’re insanely good at what you do.”

“No, no, I get that completely. It’s the craziest feeling; wondering if you really belong in this industry, or if you don’t actually deserve it. There are so many people that are so fucking talented and good at what they do, sometimes it always feels like it’s just stupid luck that I ended up here,” You told him and he nodded at you with a small smile.

He briefly said something about how it felt both nice and weird talking to someone that fully understood that feeling and you nodded too, although it did surprise you that he of all people would feel that way. But, in all fairness, he was surprised by you too.

Sometimes it was funny in Hollywood, in the cutthroat entertainment industry that at times felt severely oversaturated with talent. People were either way too confident for their own good or would have so many moments of imposter syndrome. And it was actually pretty hard to find people that felt the latter— or maybe it was hard to find the ones that would admit that they felt that way.

Therefore, it felt like a sort of breath of fresh air that you and Steve were able to admit that to each other. Talking with someone that could completely “get it” made the feeling feel a bit less harsh.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You found yourself wondering about Steve a lot when you weren’t with him or doing some task for him. It was interesting becoming friends with someone in this way. It all happening because you were essentially being forced in each other’s presence since you were working together, but then it slowly feeling a lot less forced because you were finding yourselves talking to one another because you both wanted to; like that night in his trailer.

However, at this moment, your mind was not on him at all.

It was the first time in over a week that you had nothing to do because there was no filming that day and there were no work tasks that you needed to do at home, so you were actually completely free. And as much as there was a part of you that wanted to find some sort of work to do, because there was almost always something that you could get a head start on, you also knew that you needed this day off and that you fully deserved it.

Your plan was to stay in bed pretty much the entire day, catching up on the sleep that you’d been severely lacking and then watching movies.

You were in the middle of your second movie of the day when things changed, and it was all due to one scene; a very spicy sex scene that quickly put you in a completely different mood, to say the least. A mood that had wetness pooling in your panties and immediately reminded you of the last time you felt that way. And after realizing that you actually hadn’t acted on that aching feeling in a while, you quickly decided that you wanted to, or more so needed to, change that.

So, Steve was the farthest thing on your mind— and you knew exactly how big of an issue it would be if he was— and instead your mind was on the last guy you had sex with, Zach; which was almost six months ago. Other than him being one of the most attractive guys you’d seen in a while, he was also a pretty great and nice person. You actually saw the potential for something real to happen with him, but you’d gotten too busy to go on more than the three dates you went on with him, so of course everything quickly fizzled out.

However, it was easy for your mind to travel back there when you were feeling this needy.

Your hand essentially took on a mind of its own as it slipped into your underwear and you pressed your middle finger right against your clit. A soft moan fell from your lips at the feeling and you started rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub.

It had been so long since you’d touched yourself, the thought of doing so barely ever even crossing your mind because of how hectic things had been lately, so it was almost too easy for you to bring yourself close to the edge.

Your other hand came up under your t-shirt to squeeze your breast and another moan fell from your lips, this one a bit louder than the last. The slow ministrations on your clit continued as you focused more on your nipple.

Thoughts went back to Zach and how he actually cared about making you feel good, which was a rarity among guys your age, or at the least ones you’d been with. You missed how good it all had been with him, but there was absolutely no way you were going to allow yourself to even think about calling him. You weren’t that desperate and the simple thought of him felt like more than enough.

You moved your fingers down to your entrance and pushed two inside of you, your wetness allowed them to slip in without much resistance. You squeezed around your fingers so tightly, feeling so full just from the two and causing an overwhelming feeling to wash over you. Your thumb began stimulating your needy clit again and you gave your breast another squeeze, continuing to give more attention to your hard nipple. Intense moans and whimpers fell from your lips and you couldn’t bring yourself to even care about how loud you were being; the walls were thick enough that you knew your neighbors probably wouldn’t hear you, anyway.

You focused solely on how good this all felt and how much you needed it. Absolutely everything else was long forgotten as your fingers continued their movements and made your body writhe on the bed.

For the first time in over a month you were taking care of yourself in this way, and you were almost right there.

Until you weren’t.

Because your phone started ringing on your nightstand.

The abrupt sound startled you and immediately pulled you out of the mood you were in, even though you were so close to the edge.

You simply listened to the incessant ringing for a moment, inwardly debating whether you should answer it or let whoever was calling leave a voicemail if it was that important. But the previous moment felt completely over, and even though you were very annoyed that you’d been interrupted, you went to grab your phone.

Steve’s name took over the screen and you knew that you needed to answer it. You’d come to the point in your work relationship with him that whenever he did call you it was usually important. So even though there was a large part of you that really didn’t want to answer the call because of what you’d been doing barely a minute ago and how it now felt weird having to talk to Steve, you did.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I wanted to ask–” He quickly stopped saying whatever he was about to continue with. “Were you just exercising or something?”

You didn’t realize how your voice must have sounded until right then; a bit hoarse and out of breath because of how loud you’d just previously been and how your heart was still racing from it all. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a quick cough to clear your throat.

“No, I was…” You trailed off because you were unsure what to follow up your words with, and then you realized that you didn’t necessarily need to make up a full specific lie. “I was doing something else.”

“What were you–” Steve stopped when it all seemed as if it clicked in his head. “Oh. Oh.”

You were glad that he wasn’t in front of you right then so he couldn’t see the embarrassment written across your face. You scoffed instead, pretending as if you weren’t feeling the least bit awkward right then. “How did your mind immediately manage to go there?”

He bypassed your question and a small laugh fell from his lips. “Why would you answer my call if you’re in the middle of having sex with someone?”

You were quiet for a moment. Now that you knew exactly where his mind was, it made you feel even more awkward. “No one’s here.”

“Oh,” He said and you expected him to laugh again, but he didn’t. “Sorry for interrupting your… alone time.”

You shook your head and let out a long sigh. “Jesus Christ, we are not talking about this anymore. Just tell me what you called for.”

“Okay, there’s this event that Tom is making me go to tonight and, of course, it’s very formal so can I get a suit again?”

You had an old friend that was a costume designer and would always get access to great clothes, including really nice suits. You’d done the same thing last week and borrowed a suit from her so that Steve could wear it to a movie premiere that he had to go to. She was more than happy to help and it reminded you of past moments where you would call her when the pieces for one or two costumes fell through at the last minute on other movies or shows you’d worked on.

“What time is the event?” You asked as you sat up in your bed.

“Seven.”

You looked at the time on your phone, seeing that the time was close to four and then you nodded your head even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay, I’ll text her now, and then head to your place when I pick something up.”

It was almost too easy for you to turn your “work brain” back on, and your day that was supposed to be completely work-free was long forgotten.

“Also, I can’t believe that you’re actually letting Tom force you to go to another event; the second one in under two weeks. Maybe you’re actually starting to like doing this stuff?” You were completely joking with your question but it was nice to push Steve’s buttons a bit.

“That would never happen,” He answered in a completely deadpan voice. “Tom called me and cursed at me until I reluctantly agreed to go to tonight’s thing.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds like him,” You laughed a bit. “Anyway, I’ll try to be at your place in hopefully an hour and a half.”

“Thanks,” He responded, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he said his next words. “And once again, I’m so sorry for the interruption.”

“Once again, we are not talking about that,” You said before hanging up.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It actually took closer to two hours to get to Steve’s apartment. And when you got there, you expected to just hand him the suit and then leave, but when he offered leftover slices from the pizza he ordered earlier, from a place that you fully thought made the best pizza in Los Angeles, you couldn’t help but say yes.

Steve went to change and you warmed up a pepperoni slice in the microwave, and then began eating as you stared out of his floor to ceiling windows. Once again you were startled by the view and how almost unreal the city looked from this high up.

Looking out at the buildings, cars, and even hills in the distance made your heart squeeze and something familiar washed over you. It was an introspective feeling that never failed to hit you every now and again. You were suddenly reminded of that one conversation with Steve in his trailer; how sometimes everything just felt like one big accident.

You looked away from the windows and turned around completely, leaning against the kitchen island with your plate of pizza in hand.

“Do you know how to tie a bow tie?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

Your attention turned to him as he walked out of his bedroom. He had on almost the entirety of the suit except for the jacket, and the untied bow tie was hanging around his neck.

“Yes, and I’m actually quite the pro,” You told him and placed your plate down as he started walking over to you. You wiped your hands off with a stray napkin. “I had this PA job where I pretty much only did stuff for the costume department, and aside from steaming clothes, it was a lot of tying ties and bow ties.”

Steve stood in front of you and you pushed yourself up on the island so that you were at eye level with him and didn’t have to reach up to start tying the bow tie.

The two of you were closer than you’d probably ever been to each other, him standing right between your parted legs and your bare thighs lightly touching his waist. Suddenly, you wished that you had on pants instead, but the simple black sundress you were wearing had been the quickest thing to slip on, and with the warm weather it was also an obvious choice. With this close proximity, it was easy to smell the cologne he’d put on and you quickly became completely infatuated with the scent.

Everything should’ve felt entirely normal right then, you were doing such a mundane task for him. But, all of the little things that encompassed this moment made it feel anything but normal, and instead, you found yourself feeling so fucking nervous being so close to him.

Of course, Steve was insanely attractive, anyone with two eyes could recognize that. However, in your head, you thought it would’ve been a conflict of interest in a sense if you ever acknowledged that fact. Especially as you were growing closer and becoming somewhat of friends with him. Right then, though, it was hard not to recognize the completely obvious.

“So,” Steve said, breaking the quiet, which you were grateful for because it made it easy to push away your thoughts and see this moment as completely normal. “Did you get to finish?”

“Finish?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment until you immediately realized what he meant. All too quickly, you wished that things had stayed silent. “Shut up.”

Steve smiled amusingly at you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You ignored him as you continued tying the bow tie. You should’ve been done already, but his abrupt question flustered you and made you mess up, so you pretty much had to start from the beginning.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” He told you, the same smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying, and you keep making me fuck up with tying this, so please shut up unless you wanna be here for an hour.”

He laughed a bit but stayed quiet as you continued tying.

You pulled your gaze away from where your hands were working on the bow tie— finally almost done— and let your eyes flicker up to meet his for a brief second before looking back down.

It was still silent as one of his hands came up and settled on the side of your thigh. You pretended as if his touch did absolutely nothing to you, although it was actually doing the complete opposite and your heart was constricting in your chest.

You adjusted the bow tie a bit and gave it a little pull on both sides to make sure it was secure, and then you looked up at Steve. “Done.”

He took a quick glance down at it and then his eyes met yours once again. “Thanks.”

It was obvious what should’ve happened next; him stepping away from you to grab the suit jacket and slip that on, and you finishing what was left of your pizza before finally letting yourself leave his apartment. It would’ve been a simple sequence of events that probably wouldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.

However, none of that happened, and instead, he stayed right where he was between your parted legs and hand still on your thigh. He was doing much of the leading at that moment, but you knew that this was all equally your doing as much as it was Steve’s.

You could’ve looked away from him and broken the silence, letting the moment finally come to its end. But you didn’t want to, and you decided that right then was not the best time to fully dissect what that meant.

It seemed as if there were a million things being said in this unmoved look being shared between you and him; questions from both of you being simultaneously asked and answered. Silent questions about whether or not this— and what was inevitably to come— was and would be okay, and the single answer being a resounding unspoken yes from the two of you.

The amount of truth behind that answer was questionable because neither of you were fully thinking about how what was happening could potentially change absolutely everything. But, that didn’t stop Steve’s hand from starting to move up the side of your thigh, and it definitely didn’t stop yours from taking on a mind of its own and finding his wrist, not stopping him, but instead guiding him further.

When his hand made contact with your hip, slipping beneath the band of your underwear, you let out a small sigh in contentment and it was then that you couldn’t help but break your long held gaze with him, eyes slipping shut instead.

What happened in the next few moments felt as if it was simultaneously happening in slow motion and hyper speed. Soft breaths falling from your lips, head tilting upward, underwear being pulled to the side, and one of Steve’s fingers teasingly tracing up your slit. Your neediness from earlier had never fully gone away because of how abruptly it all ended, and this only made it increase tenfold and you were somehow even wetter than before.

Your hands grabbed at the edge of the counter, squeezing tightly as Steve pushed one finger inside of you, and then almost immediately added another.

You could only moan and whimper at the feeling and you bit your lip to try and keep yourself quiet. Other than your soft sounds, it was quiet, so quiet, and you knew that if any actual words were spoken in that moment, it would effectively ruin everything. It would break the trance that both of you seemed to be in, and you didn’t want that to happen. And you could tell with the lack of words falling from Steve’s lips right then, the feeling was mutual.

His other hand found your hip and guided you closer to the edge of the island, so he could hit a deeper angle and his thumb began circling your clit. You let out another moan and squeezed your eyes shut tighter as he then added a third finger and effectively turned you into a pile of mush because of how full you felt.

You couldn’t even find it in you to feel embarrassed at how easily and quickly he was able to bring you to the edge. It was a mix of him being so fucking good with his fingers, hitting spots that made you see stars and paying the perfect amount of attention to your clit, coupled with the fact that you hadn’t been able to come earlier that made you feel as if you were about to burst. And after one hard thrust of his fingers, you did, letting out a particularly loud moan and squeezing tightly around him in the process.

He continued fingering you through your orgasm, waiting until your soft moans faded out and your fast breathing became a bit more steady before pulling his fingers out.

“That was– Fuck,” You breathed out; the first words spoken in the past ten minutes. “Thank you?”

Your eyes met Steve’s and he gave you a small smile. “I owed you for interrupting earlier.”

Before you could say anything, or think about saying anything, he walked away from you, heading back to his bedroom, and you were actually grateful because your ability to form coherent thoughts felt broken for the time being.

You readjusted yourself, getting off of the counter and leaning back against it instead. There were way too many things going through your mind right then, and it felt like a solid mix of both good and bad thoughts even though it was hard to fully grasp any of them.

Steve came back barely a minute or two later, the suit jacket was now on, so the outfit was complete and you could tell that he was about to leave. “You can finish your food if you want, and stay as long as you need. The door will lock behind you.”

Proper words still couldn’t form on your lips, so you only nodded at him before he walked out of the door.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It wasn’t until the next morning that it all fully processed in your mind.

After waking up and initially attempting to convince yourself that nothing had happened in the first place— that you hadn’t had a really good orgasm due to Steve Harrington’s fucking fingers, and he didn’t ask for a single thing in return— you accepted it. And once you accepted it, that was when the spiraling started; asking yourself questions about how the hell that could’ve happened and why it had happened so easily. And then there was the one question that, in your mind, was the most important one of all— What did it mean?

You needed it to mean nothing; that was the only way that you believed you’d be able to properly function for the next month and a half of filming. If somehow you and Steve could laugh about this and continue to be somewhat of friends but more so two people that worked together.

That idea was definitely something easier said than done because, probably for the first time in your life, you actually had no plan, no solid idea on how to approach this.

And your confusion toward everything only increased as you drove to set, but you felt like the universe was being somewhat nice to you because when you saw Steve, the interaction was quick because you immediately got called to be somewhere else. And that was how most of the day went; fast exchanges that didn’t allow either of you to say much to one another. There was no room for any awkwardness to settle over the brief conversations and there definitely wasn’t any room for either of you to address the obvious.

That only slightly worried you because even though a part of you wouldn’t have minded burying it deep down and pretending as if it never happened, it also felt like something that should be talked about, at least a little bit. And you knew that the more time that passed, the harder it would be to talk about it.

Therefore, when you spotted him heading in the direction of his trailer you grabbed his attention with a wave. You still had no clue what exactly you wanted to say, but you didn’t let that stop you from walking up to him.

You smiled, trying your hardest to push away every ounce of awkwardness you felt at that moment— and only slightly succeeding. “Hi.”

“Hey,” He said, matching your smile. It was hard to tell if he was feeling even an ounce of nervousness. “Feels like I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to learn that it’s somehow always toward the middle of filming that things become so much more hectic.”

He nodded at that and then there was a lull of silence that you took as your opportunity to shift the subject.

“So should we…” You trailed off, taking a breath to mentally prepare for what you were about to ask. “Talk about last night?”

“We don’t have to. Like I said, I owed you one,” He said casually. You could feel his eyes on you, but you purposefully avoided eye contact with him. Instead, you fixed your gaze on something random behind him. “Oh, also, I have the suit in my trailer, and I can give it back to you later, or you can grab it whenever.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll grab it later,” You said, nodding.

The easy turn of the conversation surprised you, but you decided that maybe it would be for the best to accept the shift. Maybe that was the universe telling you that last night didn’t need to be spoken about further; which was practically the same exact thing Steve had just said to you.

You almost walked away and headed to where you needed to go, but Steve spoke before you could.

“I’d be happy to do it again, by the way. I’m sure I owe you for a lot of other things too.”

His tone actually sounded serious, but you convinced yourself he was joking. In order for all of this to make sense in your head, you had to believe he was joking.

“Yes, I am owed so much for everything I had to endure during those first few weeks of filming when you were the worst person in the world,” You responded with an amused smile.

Steve laughed at that. “I promise I’ll make it up to you whenever you want.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him and then walked away, allowing the conversation to come to its end there. The air felt cleared for the most part, and you could easily see things returning back to the normal that you had created with Steve.

However, there was something about his final words that sat with you— how honest they sounded even though they were said along with a laugh.

And when, hours later, you were sitting on your couch half-watching a cooking competition show, you couldn’t help but lean into the thought that maybe what he said wasn't a joke.

And then after a few silent moments of contemplation, you were calling him.

You knew that it wasn’t just to confirm or deny your potentially delusional thought and leave it at that. But, right then, you refused to accept the extent of your reasoning for calling him, and how it was mainly based on what you deep down hoped his answer to your question would be.

Steve answered on the third ring. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

You shut your eyes because that somehow made what was about to come out of your mouth feel a bit more bearable to ask.

“Okay… So… Fuck it. Whatever. Let me just say it,” You took a quick breath and then let your next words come out in a rush. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What did I say earlier?” Steve asked. You were unsure if he really didn’t remember, or if he was trying to make all of this more painful for you.

If he actually didn’t remember, you wouldn’t have minded if your floor swallowed you whole right then.

“Nevermind,” You muttered, letting the side of your brain that told you were overthinking everything he had said to you earlier completely take over.

Before you could pull your phone away from your ear to end the call, Steve started speaking. “No, wait, what did I say?”

“The whole ‘making it up to me’ thing,” You told him, feeling so awkward repeating the words from hours ago that had been so stuck on your mind. You sighed as you shook your head. “Y’know I’ve never been this nervous talking to you before. Things were so much easier when you were just an asshole to me.”

“Why are you nervous?” It was almost too easy to hear the smirk in his voice.

“No, answer my question,” You told him. “Did you mean it?”

Much to your surprise, he didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Okay.” You felt yourself nodding at that, letting his words truly sink in.

“Okay?” He sounded confused by your one-word response.

You didn’t say anything to that. Instead, you let a silence take over as you let your thoughts run for a minute and you hadn’t realized how long you’d been quiet until you heard Steve ask, “You still there?”

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m here,” You said softly. “Can I come over?”

“Yes.” His response was almost immediate. “You should. I want you to.”

Hearing that eased away your nervousness.

And when you hung up with him after saying that you’d be at his place in thirty minutes, and you were then left with your own thoughts before you slipped on a pair of shoes and left your apartment, it didn’t come back.

And when you knocked on his door and he greeted you with an easy smile that led to him kissing you after a few silent moments of you simply staring at one another, it still didn’t come back.

It was almost weird how all of it didn’t feel weird or wrong. Somehow it actually felt right.

There was still the question that had racked your mind earlier that day, though, that had still yet to be answered— What did all of this mean?

And now it was mixed with another, and probably even more important, question— What exactly was about to change because of this?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n

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rxmqnova · 3 months

Note

Sup. Can I ask for a scarlett x sister reader ?

Scarlett plans us an amazing sweet 16 party. She invites the whole school. The only problem is, we're really not that popular and on one shows up. So scarlett quickly gets on the phone and invites all her celebrity Hollywood friends before we arrive with the fam. Her friends of course drop everything to come (because we're a sweet kid and they all love us).

Soon the party is all over social media and the kids from school show up to meet their favourite celebrities but scarlett tells security to not let them in knowing we'd be uncomfortable with them just getting close to us because they now know who our big sister is.

Sweet 16

Y/N: 16 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Scarlett smiles, admiring the garden which she decorated for her little sister's 16th birtday. She, as the big sister, has been super excited for today. Her little sister's turning 16, so it needs to be big and perfect. She even sent invitation to nearly the entire Y/N's school.

There's one thing Scarlett doesn't know though. Y/N isn't exactly popular at her school, more specifically… she's more of a loner and the one the others mostly make fun of.

So when no one shows up, it's not really surprise, yet Scarlett doesn't know and it makes her really confused.

"I got it all right, where is everyone?" She asks herself with a sigh, looking at the invitations if she didn't got the time or date wrong.

Ten minutes pass and still no one has come which makes Scarlett really nervous as Y/N should be here in less then 40 minutes.

"Alright, time for plan B" Scarlett sighs out, taking her phone and listing through her contacts.

She calls every single one of her friends that Y/N's met, inviting them over for the party and luckily everyone said they would come.

The first guests arrive soon which finally makes Scarlett relax. And a lot more come right after, so the huge garden finally doesn't look that empty anymore.

Even more guests arrive and now it's about the time Y/N should come. It was hard, but everyone managed to hide behind something and now they're just waiting for Y/N to walk in.

And in the moment she does, everyone jumps out of their hiding spots, shouting 'happy birthday' which makes Y/N jump a little, but then a smile makes its way on her face.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart" Scarlett's, of course, the first one to walk to her sister and pull her in for a tight hug.

"Thank you! Did you do all this?" Y/N questions, a smile never leaving her face.

"My little sister's turning 16 today. We need to celebrate it properly" Scarlett smiles, pressing a kiss to her sister's forehead before taking her hand in hers and leading her to the others.

Spotting the Marvel cast, Y/N drops her sister's hand and runs to them, pulling all of them in for a hug which makes Scarlett chuckle. Y/N's spent a lot of time on set with her big sister and over all the years she's become pretty close with them.

"I can't believe you're all here" Y/N nearly squeals, her eyes shining and a wide smile playing on her lips.

"Of course we are! We wouldn't miss your birthday for the world!" Chris Evans speaks first which only makes Y/N's smile widen even more.

After talking to every single person who came, it's finally time for the birthday cake. And of course, everyone brings out their phones, filming everything and taking pictures. Y/N's turning 16, this moment just needs to be captured.

Automatically, most of the videos and photos end up posted on instagram or other social media which doesn't go unnoticed by the kids from Y/N's school Scarlett invited in the first place.

No one on the entire school knows Scarlett Johansson is Y/N's sister. Maybe if the kids knew earlier, they would have come. Who knows?

The Johansson family decided it would be better for Y/N's safety, knowing what paparazzi and social media can be like.

It won't matter now though and Scarlett counts with it. She knows Y/N's strong and would never let any bad article, comment or anything similar take her down.

Everyone's eating the cake now, talking, laughing and Y/N's never been happier. Every now and then she just leans to her sister's side, giving her a hug as Scarlett's sitting next to her and that makes the big sister really happy.

It doesn't take long until some kids from Y/N's school show up, standing in front of the house as the security Scarlett hired won't let them in.

"I am such a great cook. I would definitely make a great guest on Cooking with Flo" Y/N states, Florence Pugh letting out a chuckle in response.

Somehow the two ended up talking about cooking and Y/N as a big Cooking with Flo fan just had to try.

"Tell her, Scar" Y/N looks at her sister in a need for a support, furrowing her brows when she notices Scarlett's not really paying attention and looking at the security guy that's coming their direction. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. No worries. I'll be right back" Scarlett smiles, pressing a kiss to Y/N's forehead before standing up and walking over to the man. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just a group of kids showed up, claiming they're your sister's friends and were invited. Should we let them in?" He asks.

Scarlett checks the time, seeing it's been nearly two hours since the party started. She glances at her sister, seeing her smile and laugh while talking to the others, a smile making its way on her own face.

"No. Don't let them in" Scarlett decides.

The kids must have seen the photos and videos the others shared. And if this is the reason they showed up, Scarlett doesn't want them to be around her little sister. If they were real friends, they would have come at time.

The man nods and starts walking back, so Scarlett goes back to her little sister, taking a seat next to her. "Are you having a good time?"

"The best! This is the best birthday party ever!"

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

Scarlett Johansson masterlist

Masterlist

#scarlett johansson #scarlett x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson fanfiction #scarlett johansson x you #fanfiction #fanfic

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surferblues · 1 year

Text

stay in bed | e.p

warnings SHORT, 18+ only minors dni, slight praise kink, dumbificaton, oral,ex!, softdom!elvis, and ofc sexual themes.

pairing boyfriend!elvis presley x fem!reader

He was insufferable. He knew what he was doing, but you were not going to stay in bed - you were not going to give him what he wanted.

With his heavy arm pulling you against his heavy chest, making sure you wouldn't be able to move - it was going to be beyond hard getting out of his grasp without waking him up.

Your's and Elvis's career's weren't much different, with you both being in Hollywood's eye and tabloids for your looks every week - you could say you and him were Hollywood's hottest couple of the sixties.

He had the voice and the pretty looks, and you had the acting and the pretty looks - not much of a big difference. You knew about the bets and flashy headlines put on your relationship and how long it would last.

articles claiming no longer than a month! but you and elvis had surpassed your month anniversary long ago. you two had met filming, him being the lead man and you the starring lady - cliche? very much.

he and you kept your relationship quiet and on the low for a few months, but god, he was head over heels! you were bound to get caught in public smooching, because quite frankly, he couldn't keep his hands to himself!

prime example, being now - the current situation you were in.

you were going to be late fo rehearsal if he didn't release you, if given any other chance, you would love to be in the arms of the man you loved most - anytime but now!

you slowly tried to lift his arms up, being quiet and careful. "Baby stay still," He murmured in a daze, pulling you even closer. Elvis's grazed his arms from where they wrapped around your torso, placing both of his hands on either side of your waist.

"elvis, I've gotta' get up." you pushed his chest away, but with him being much stronger than you - you didn't get far. "no, stay in bed with me." he slightly opened his eyes to get sight of you - pouting his lips .

"you're so pretty in the morning,honey, y'know that?" he cooed groggily, placing kisses on your collarbone as he parted your thighs with his knee.

"elvis, you know im busy today." you groaned, but your words were quickly cut short when you felt his hands grazing towards your lace panties - that and alongside your thin bra were the only things covering your body.

"oh, honey, i can be quick and easy with you." he rasped, cooing at you as if you were sensitive as fine china. he slowly began tampering with your panties, slipping down to your knees - he's done this too many times, he's perfected it by now.

"besides, y'always tell me how good i am with my hands. why let them go to waste?" he chuckled lowly, his cold fingers slithering dangerously close towards your folds.

"don't twist my words." you whimpered, you were in too deep now to refuse him. Elvis slipped two fingers into you without warning, making your jaw drop as you let out a breathy moan.

but before the shout of pleasure could slip from your lips, elvis slickly placed his lips on yours - swallowing the moan.

while his other fingers were pumping in and out of your whole, his hand slithered on your neck as the heated kiss intensified - his thumb pressing down lightly on your neck.

Elvis pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing down your neck to your collarbone, "ill be right back, honey." he winked, leaving you confused and needy. he moved from the side you, and used your parted legs as an advantage.

Elvis positioned himself between your legs, placing bold kisses own your stomach, repositioning himself so he was completely under the blankets now. You felt him peeling your panties down your thighs slowly before his mouth immediately came in contact with your heat.

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ellestra · 5 months

Text

Farming content James Somerton style

Edited: I cleaned up sentences, removed typos and added some links

You've probably seen the latest hbomberguy video that highlights plagiarism problem on youtube. He gives several examples many I never heard about but I've been recommended iilluminaughtii before and watched some of her stuff before getting tired of seemingly endless volume (now I know why). But then he gets to the real subject of the video and I did watch a lot of James Somerton videos. And I liked many of them. I liked them a lot.

I didn't give him any money and, as much as it came as relief, I kept thinking how this must feel so much worse for people who did. I thought about supporting him for a moment when he posted (in April this year!) how his videos are getting less views because youtube algorithm and demonetisation of gay creators (it's a real thing so it was easy to believe) and he will be forced to stop creating if people don't sign up to his patreon. But I was casual viewer and he seemed big enough so I didn't. It must feel like such a betrayal to those who created a real community around him. Just like his film production company it's clear now it was another of his scams. It's infuriating how well it worked.

Somerton deleted his patreon now (along with his twitter and discord server) so there is probably no recourse for those affected. The only good thing is that someone big enough highlighted what he did (and brought receipts) so he had to stop. When smaller creators called him out it either went unnoticed or he managed to make himself a victim (and send his fans after them). He actually did what Anita Sarkeesian was accused of and gaslighted his followers about it. His misogyny just adds an extra bitter taste to this.

youtube

At the end hbomberguy talks about how if Somerton was open about what he was doing this could've been his niche. He said it just as I was thinking basically the same thing. I'm sure there is a market for field review type of videos. Not review like movie or book review but in academic sense when you take other people articles on the subject and compare to show the state of research on the subject on at the moment.

youtube

This kind of reviews doesn't need any original research. The value is in giving people overview of where the field is at and pointing them to the actual research so they can read more in depth about the results. If you already did the search for all the sources this is a perfect format to use them. Most people don't have time or resources to comb through all the resources themselves but they like to learn about it and this is why videos like that are popular. That's why iilluminaughtii, Somerton and al. were able to cash in on it.

But of course this kind of things have to properly cited. And they cannot be just all quotes. You have to make coherent points not just make stuff up for the transitions (lies that actually made Todd in the Shadows make a video not about music). I suppose that's too much work. Too much effort when you need to crank out content to satisfy all the sponsors.

youtube

I was glad to find out I already watch most of the queer creators recommended in the hbomberguy's video (and put on this watch list) as an alternative (I would add Caelan Conrad to it - funnily enough I found them through their video about antivax movement). I trained my youtube recommendations well in which way it skews but it's easier to kick out all the obviously awful when you know what talking points to avoid. It's much harder to spot grift when it pretends to care about the same things you care about. Somerton was saying all the right things. It just wasn't his words.

Did he even believe any of it? I bet he'll insist on yes but the laziness says otherwise. It seems like it was all just for the money and fans this angle gave him. That he enjoyed being cool to the audience he built and the stuff it bought him. Be gay do crime for real. Only he didn't write that one either.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #youtube drama #youtube plagiarism #todd in the shadows #archeology tube #james somerton conman #james somerton scam #youtube #plagiarism

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lowlights · 10 months

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The Third Date - Javi Peña x f!Reader

The Third Date

Javi Peña x f!reader // 2.7k (no beta, u don't see any mistakes ok?)

Warnings: Female reader wearing femme clothing (skirt and chonky heels), anxiety, mentions of a crappy past relationship, Javi is handsy, insecurities, exhibitionist kink activated, maybe a little jewelry kink?, fingering, smut but like sweet smut, food and alcohol consumption, too much cuteness, reader is living her best 90s clothing life, retired!Javi, mood board picture is to show jewelry only

Summary: Your evening with Javier Peña takes a turn for the interesting when he takes you out on a date.

Thank you to all my friends who listened to me talk about this for too long, especially @ezrasbirdie.

The third date is when it’s supposed to happen, right? You hadn’t gone on a proper date in a long time, and maybe things had changed.

Oh god. What if things had changed?

While this was in fact only your third official date, you had known Javi for almost two months now. You met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, where he immediately zeroed in on you. You’d recently left behind a bad relationship that had run two years too long, and you liked the way he smiled at you. He asked for your number that night, promising to call the next day to set something up.

He didn’t call for three weeks.

Just as you had written him off, your phone rang. He was apologetic but vague, mumbling something about being busy but still wanting to take you out. The quiet timber of his voice melted your heart a little, and you said yes. When the next Friday rolled around he arrived with flowers and a chew toy for your dog Charlie, which won him major points in the dachshund’s book. He took you to the movies, and when he walked you to your door at the end of the date he confessed that he hadn’t called because he was nervous. Nervous about how much he liked you, and how he wasn’t so good at relationships. You confessed that were just as nervous about seeing someone new, but that you were only interested in something with the potential to be serious.

He kissed you and said he would call tomorrow. Which he did, to his credit and your delight; you weren’t really expecting it, to be honest. What you didn’t like was that he was calling from Florida. He had quickly explained something about an old partner and his wife who had given birth two weeks early, and he would be there for a little while to help fix up some things around the house. He called you every night before bed to hear about your day- Javi was more of a listener than a sharer- and to flirt relentlessly with you. He only hung up each night when a male voice in the background would yell about long-distance fees.

Three weeks later he came over for your famous fajitas and a movie. You made out like teenagers on the couch for the entire duration of the film and went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach that night. You had it bad for Javier Peña.

Now here you were. Date three. Suddenly despising every article of clothing you had chosen to wear.

A quick knock at the door meant you didn’t have time to reconsider your outfit. You took a final glance in the mirror and adjusted your long black wrap skirt. You had opted for your favorite deep v-neck top that was also black and covered with tiny sunflowers, which you had knotted and tucked up at the bottom. It was a pleasantly warm Texas night so you left your jacket behind. Chunky heels and silver rings completed your look, along with something else that you were thoroughly regretting putting on this evening.

No time to take that off now, he was annoyingly punctual tonight.

You pulled open the door. “Hey, Javi,” you said, attempting to hide your nervousness behind a big smile.

He looked you up and down without shame, his pouty lips morphing into a grin. “Well hey yourself, sunflower.”

You leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, but he gently redirected your mouth to his and kissed you slowly. You melted against him, resting your hands against his sides. He’s the only man that had ever made you feel weak in the knees, something you thought authors had made up in those trashy romance novels you liked to read.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart,” he complimented, kissing you once more. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your purse. “You look handsome yourself, Javi,” you said as you locked the door behind you. He was dressed in his usual jeans and boots, with a dark blue button-up shirt that looked like it had been freshly pressed. Javier Peña wasn’t one to dress up too much, now that suits weren’t required in his day-to-day life, but it was clear he had gone to some effort here. It felt nice to know that it was for you.

He laced his fingers through yours and only let go long enough to let you into his truck and hop in himself, where his hand immediately sought yours out again. Your conversation was easy, like always, and full of flirty glances. Javi maneuvered down some side streets in the old part of town and parked in front of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant you had never even heard of before.

The aroma wafting from the open door smelled divine. “I’m starving,” you lamented.

“Best tacos in town,” he promised, taking your hand and leading you inside.

Javi asked for the booth in the very back of the long room, where the tall dividing walls hid you from view from the rest of the patrons. You slid in first and he followed in right next to you.

“Oh no, are we going to be that annoying couple that eats on the same side of the table?” you joked, the word “couple” tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop it. Your brain tingled with the beginnings of panic.

He just raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t bother to conceal his smile. “Want me to move?”

You pulled his left arm around your shoulder. “Nope. I don’t mind if we’re annoying.”

“Me either.”

He didn’t freak out, at least outwardly, at your little slip. Maybe he didn’t mind. Maybe he even liked the sound of it.

The server, Diego, interrupted to take your drink order and let you look over the faded menus. Javi ordered without looking, enchiladas verdes with extra rice, and you asked Diego to bring whatever his favorite tacos were. Javi asked for a Paloma for you and a Shiner Bock for himself and turned his attention back to you. You smiled at Diego and thanked him before he disappeared back towards the kitchen.

Javi cupped your jaw with his right hand and leaned in for a soft kiss. You were so tucked away in this booth that no one could see you, thankfully. He trailed his hand down the front of your shirt, right between your breasts, and down to the top of your thigh. Before you could stop him to explain he ran his hand down your thigh towards your knee, pausing when he felt unfamiliar bumps under his touch.

He looked at you inquisitively. “What’s this?”

You felt heat creep up your neck. “Um, nothing.”

“Oh-okay.” He pulled his hand back to his side.

“It’s the third date!” you blurted out, cringing at yourself.

Javi’s confusion deepened. “Yeah, it is,” he said slowly.

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole. “It’s just some jewelry. It’s nothing.”

Javi’s eyes flicked down to your thigh and back up to you. “Jewelry?”

You sighed. “My friend makes these pieces of thigh jewelry and she wanted me to have one. I-I thought that maybe you liked my thighs. You kept touching them when you came over to my house, and you said they looked pretty in my dress when we were on the phone, so I wore this tonight because it’s the third date.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth despite every brain cell in your head screaming shut up in a frantic cacophony.

Javi squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “What does the third date have to do with anything?

You locked eyes with him. You were too far in now to play it cool, so you might as well tell him the truth. “The third date is when people are supposed to have sex.”

“Who told you that?” Javi asked. His voice was kind and you were pretty sure he wasn’t making fun of you.

“Cosmopolitan. And my friend Brenda.” You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

Javi’s brow furrowed. “Oh, baby, have you been worrying about that?” he asked.

You nodded shyly.

Javi had never hidden his emotions from you, letting his feelings splash across his face no matter the setting. He’d spent more than enough years training his face into disinterested neutrality but would never let you see that side of him. However, his look at this moment was confusing and that sent you into a tailspin. The condescending words of your ex swirled in your head, bitter reminders of the flaws and fears that he seeded within you for years.

Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

It didn’t help things when he removed his hand from your shoulder. The booth suddenly felt almost claustrophobic.

“Honey, we don’t have to do a damn thing if you don’t feel like it. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” he said softly. True panic bubbled up in your chest as you struggled to find the words to explain, desperate to erase the look on his face. Was that look…hurt?

“Oh, god no. No! You didn’t pressure me, I promise. It’s just been a million years since I dated someone new and I thought-I thought…” Your voice trailed off. Javi knew a little bit about your last relationship, small admissions shared during your phone calls when it felt safe to tell him things alone in your living room. But now, with Javi’s big brown eyes staring at you, the words felt stupid as they tangled on your tongue.

Javi opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Diego bringing your drinks to the table.

“Your food should be out soon!” he said cheerily. Javi didn’t bother to respond, focused solely on you. You wished that you could rewind and go back to five minutes ago when his arm was around your shoulder and you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself.

He cleared his throat. “Alright, so here’s what we are going to do. We can just sit here and enjoy these drinks and good food and have ourselves a really nice time. If you want something more, you tell me. You’re in charge here.”

You were stunned for a moment, not used to someone really giving you the reins like this. It was as terrifying as it was freeing and you seized the moment, tired of feeling like you had wasted time in your life. You didn’t want to waste a moment with Javi, let alone let this fall apart because of your own misgivings.

“Can you put your arm back around me?” you asked softly.

Javi obliged. “I can do that.”

You settled into his warmth, already feeling better. “I’m sorry. I just…I just really like you, Javi.”

“I really like you too, sunflower.”

His reassurance emboldened you further. “Can you go back to what you were doing before?”

He ran a finger slowly up your thigh, tracing the shape of the adornment under your skirt. “You mean this?” he asked coyly.

You shuddered and let out a breathy little yeah as his finger trailed upwards, teasing the slit of your skirt open the tiniest bit. His finger slowly skimmed across your bare skin, so faint you could barely feel it, and you felt as though your skin was on fire in its wake.

“Javi, I-”

“Alright, enchiladas for the gentleman and tacos al pastor for the lady! Can I get you anything else to drink?” Diego interrupted jovially. “Oh, you haven’t even touched your drink. Is everything okay? Can I get you something else?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said quickly, praying that the large table top hid Javi’s wandering hand from view. Diego’s presence wasn’t enough for him to stop trailing his finger up and down your inner thigh, however.

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t like your Paloma I can certainly get you -”

“She said she’s fine,” Javi interjected gruffly. Diego nodded and left the table hastily.

“He was just doing his job,” you tutted, although you were very happy that he was gone.

“He should have listened to you the first time,” Javi replied. “Besides, I’m curious about this jewelry. Can I see it?”

You nodded and watched his face with rapt attention as he pushed open your skirt far enough to see the glittery metal chains, delicately stretched across your skin.

“So pretty, baby. Looks so good on you.” His praise made you feel beautiful, and confidence settled deep in your chest. “Is this okay?”

You spread your legs wider, encouraging his hand to dip down at the apex of your thighs. “More than okay. Just make sure no one comes.” Javi had scared Diego away for the moment, but he would certainly be back before long.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if no one comes, honey.” Of course, Javi couldn’t let the double entendre pass by without a comment.

You had no time for a clever retort as Javi’s finger traced over your new lacy underwear, pressing lightly over your entrance. You arched into him, clinging to his broad shoulder with your left hand. He whispered praise to you as you, his honeyed words and gentle ministrations making your core drip against his hand. You took a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that no one could see you, but everyone was tucked away in the adjoining booths and too focused on their meals to realize what was happening.

Without meaning to, a moan slipped past your lips and you buried your face against Javi’s neck to drown it out.

“Save all those sounds for me later, baby. No one here gets to hear you. Only me, right?” Javi asked you.

You nodded against him, inhaling his cologne of soft vetiver and golden amber. You kissed along the column of his neck as he pushed your panties aside and dipped one thick finger in.

“That’s it, that’s it. Does that feel good?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against your clit in gentle circles. Javi alternated between gliding one finger in between your folds and pressing down with just enough weight with his thumb to drive you absolutely mad. Eventually, Javi slid in a second finger, stretching you to the point of feeling pleasantly full. When you whimpered against his neck he swirled your clit hard enough to make you clench around his fingers.

Your orgasm was soft and syrupy, like being draped in a warm glow. Javi cooed praise in between pressing kisses to the crown of your head. He gently removed his fingers and without hesitation sucked on them while you readjusted your skirt.

“Javi, oh my god,” you scolded. “You can’t!” No one had ever tasted you like that before, not right in front of you.

“Why not? I wasn’t gonna let that go to waste.”

“Because…oh my god,” you repeated, the realization of everything that just happened washing over you. You had just let him finger you. In a restaurant. Where people were.

And you liked it. And it was good.

Javi chuckled and kissed you deeply, brushing his thumb across your cheek. You could faintly taste yourself on his tongue.

“Eat your tacos, sunflower. They’re getting cold,” Javi instructed, picking up his own fork and diving into the rice. You resituated yourself so that you could eat, not bothering to hide your smile when he left his arm around your shoulders.

Even cold, the tacos were amazing. You would have to make sure to leave Diego an extra big tip for the recommendation- and the privacy.

“So,” you said between mouthfuls of food, “I don’t think this is what Brenda meant by getting back out there.”

Javi quirked an eyebrow, mischief glistening in his eyes. “I would argue that you just got back out there in a pretty big way.”

You giggled. “Well, it definitely was not part of the rules she mentioned.”

Javi put his fork down and turned to you, lips pursed in thought. “What do you say we forget the rules, hm?”

That sounded really, really good.

#javi peña #javier peña #javi p x f!reader #narcos #javi peña x you #javier peña x reader #narcos fanfiction

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glorianamultistan · 9 months

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Requested by @haocovr :- Ok so hiii. I would like to request a top Lee Jongsuk x bottom male reader. The reader is also a famous actor and they act as a psycho couple in the film "v.i.p". And in one scene in the early beginning things start to get kinda hot in the bts and they hook up frequently after that and are in a relationship. They are a super hot couple.

A Jongsuk request! Yas! I am sorry it took so much time; I hope this is up to the mark. I had never really watched that movie before but I watched it to write this.

I do not own the pic.

Y/n was the glamorous villain of the industry, often his role won over the leads of the project he was involved in. There were times his character, no matter how evil, bigoted, and irredeemable, was not killed off in the drama/movie or given a merciless ending because the whole viewership was mesmerised by the charms with which he played that character.

He never had many fighting scenes, being petite he was always given the role of the strategist of the crime.

For Jongsuk this role was a new experience altogether. He had to practice a lot to get the facial expressions and tone of his voice right. Y/n, his partner in the film was doing great, so much so that often during the filming process Jongsuk had to reel back and remember that this is the same guy who brought homemade cupcakes and tea for the crew.

There was something so beguiling about those lips, eyes, and slithery hand movements that y/n's character did as his partner that Jongsuk was going insane with all the phantom touches that he felt running through his body late after the end of the shootings.

One day during the shooting of a brutal torture scene, Jongsuk was having trouble getting into the expressions as y/n, who came to support his fellow actors as he was not in the scene being shot, was wearing a satin shirt which was a bit too deep cut and all the glory of his body was on display for Jongsuk to have obsessive thoughts over.

After the shoot ended Jongsuk slipped away to meet y/n and found him sitting in his van with the gate open, sipping on what was most probably a milkshake.

'Ah! Hyung, what are you doing here!?' 'The shoot is over so I thought we could go out and have dinner somewhere nice.' Jongsuk's lowered gaze, trying to not look too deep into y/n's shirt made the younger blush. There has been a bit of tension between them since they did a makeout scene, it was shot too perfectly on the first try and since then, the other person has been craving more.

It is hard to forget the arms y/n felt around his waist under the sheets during the shoot, Jongsuk did not have to do it but he dipped them lower as if on instincts, and y/n arranged his legs around elder's waistband hands around his neck as easily as if wearing a familiar jacket.

Jongsuk, on the other hand, would have lost a bit of control if there weren't cameras around them.

'Let me inform my manager; he left just now to buy water.' 'You can wait here, I will bring my car; just give me a minute.'

While waiting for Jongsuk to come by y/n's manager returned with the water bottle and the actor informed him about leaving with Jongsuk.

'Should we prepare ourselves for dating articles?' 'Hyung! Why are you doing this!?' Y/n tried not to blush. 'Well, our pretty little guy has been hanging out with his partner from the movie, and anyone with eyes can not look at the scene you both shot in bed and say it was acting.' 'You have been reading too many fanfics again hyung. I asked you to start reading classics right?' 'Please y/n, I will continue later; here comes your date.'

Jongsuk got out of his car and opened the gate for y/n. 'Hi there, Jongsuk, I will be leaving him in your care tonight; please take him to his house before midnight; he has a shoot tomorrow.' 'Do not worry hyung, I will take good care of him.' 'Hello!? I am sitting right here, I have my own mind and voice? I WILL GO BACK WHEN I WANT!' 'Hyung, let's go, I am hungry.'

Jongsuk drove them to his house, and y/n was hot; he was not ready to step into the elder's house like this. Yet, here he was, sitting at the dining table having dinner with Jongsuk, in his house.

After dinner, both the actors were standing on the balcony and enjoying the view of the city. There was a comfortable silence between them.

'I should drive you back. You have a shoot tomorrow.' 'Let it be, I will get a cab; you should rest; you worked the whole day hyung.' 'I am completely fine to drive you back, really, let's go.' In the hall, as Jongsuk was putting on his jacket y/n blurted out without thinking 'What if I do not want to go back?' 'Oh... Then you can very well stay y/n; you should have just said that, I will show you the guest room, come.'

'No, I mean.' Y/n went closer to Jongsuk and held his jacket while looking down, 'I mean, I want to be with you, here.' 'I won't go away anywhere, y/n.' 'Hyung!' Y/n while stomping his foot and looking up to lock his lips with Jongsuk.

Jongsuk dropped the keys he was holding and put his arm around y/n's waist and a hand behind his head. The kiss deepened, Jongsuk easily entered the younger's mouth, and their tongues slid upon each other, then he started sucking so hard on the younger's tongue and lower lip that y/n moaned and lost his balance.

They were on the floor, y/n's legs spread, Jongsuk's breath and taste lingering in his mouth. 'That... was intense hah!' 'Fuck! Baby! I am not ready to let you go yet, can we please continue?' 'Yes, please yes hyung!'

They shifted to Jongsuk's bedroom, and through the night, y/n was pushed to his limits. He never knew how big the elder was and his rough, intense thrusts and bites all over the body, and the grips, literal kneading of skin, Jongsuk left no pleasure untouched.

The shoot the next day was canceled on the accords of y/n not feeling well. In reality, he was still in bed around 2pm, with Jongsuk all over him, playing with the marks he left.

When he reached his home his manager was already there. 'So?' 'Don't worry, we won't let it slip.' Y/n said as he flopped himself on the sofa. 'Yes! Finally! It was so bland to be your manager from the start. I was too free. I wanted you to have a life but you just never listened to me. Wow, I should treat Jongsuk.' 'What do you mean it was bland being my manager!? I gave you no drama to worry about hyung.' 'But hun, I NEEDED DRAMA!' 'Honestly hyung, I am tired, let me sleep then we will order something nice; you should rest too.'

After that night y/n and Jongsuk had been going to each other's house regularly to spend time together after shoots and they even went on a vacation after the shooting was wrapped up.

Soon, through the grapevine, many industry insiders got to know about two of the hottest actors being in a relationship and they were attending parties and events together. As the news broke out, it was supported by the agencies and that was the first time y/n had to face the hate train of antis.

Well, it did not bother him as so many of them got a legal notice from his and Jongsuk's company that they became famous as the 'no-nonsense couple' of the industry.

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

#submission #kdrama #lee jong suk #lee jongsuk x male reader #kdrama x male reader #male reader #bottom reader #bottom male reader #gaypop #gay couple #gay #gay men

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vampylily · 7 months

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Transcription of Fall Out Boy's interview with Rock Sound

Since I was going to read the article anyways, I thought I'd transcribe in case it'll be more accessible to read for others. The interview with Pete and Patrick goes in depth on the topics of tourdust, evolving as a band, So Much (For) Stardust, working with Neal Avron, and more.

Thank you to @nomaptomyowntreasure who kindly shared the photos of the article! Their post is linked here.

PDF link here. (more readable format & font size)

article in text below (and warning for long post.)

Rock Sound Issue #300

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

WITH THE TRIUMPHANT ‘SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST’ CAPTURING A WHOLE NEW GENERATION OF FANS, FALL OUT BOY ARE RIDING HIGH, CELEBRATING THEIR PAST WHILE LOOKING TOWARDS A BRIGHT FUTURE. PETE WENTZ AND PATRICK STUMP REFLECT ON RECENT SUCCESSES AND THE LESSONS LEARNED FROM TWO DECADES OF WRITING AND PERFORMING TOGETHER.

WORDS: James Wilson-Taylor

PHOTOS: Elliott Ingham

You have just completed a US summer tour that included stadium shows and some of your most ambitious production to date. What were your aims going into this particular show?

PETE: Playing stadiums is a funny thing. I pushed pretty hard to do a couple this time because I think that the record Patrick came up with musically lends itself to that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When we were designing the cover to the album, it was meant to be all tangible, which was a reaction to tokens and skins that you can buy and avatars. The title is made out of clay, and the painting is an actual painting. We wanted to approach the show in that way as well. We've been playing in front of a gigantic video wall for the past eight years. Now, we wanted a stage show where you could actually walk inside it.

Did adding the new songs from ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ into the setlist change the way you felt about them?

PATRICK: One of the things that was interesting about the record was that we took a lot of time figuring out what it was going to be, what it was going to sound like. We experimented with so many different things. I was instantly really proud. I felt really good about this record but it wasn’t until we got on stage and you’re playing the songs in between our catalogue that I really felt that. It was really noticeable from the first day on this tour - we felt like a different band. There's a new energy to it. There was something that I could hear live that I couldn't hear before.

You also revisited a lot of older tracks and b-sides on this tour, including many from the ‘Folie à Deux’-era. What prompted those choices?

PETE: There were some lean years where there weren't a lot of rock bands being played on pop radio or playing award shows so we tried to play the biggest songs, the biggest versions of them. We tried to make our thing really airtight, bulletproof so that when we played next to whoever the top artist was, people were like, ‘oh yeah, they should be here.’ The culture shift in the world is so interesting because now, maybe rather than going wider, it makes more sense to go deeper with people. We thought about that in the way that we listen to music and the way we watch films. Playing a song that is a b-side or barely made a record but is someone’s favourite song makes a lot of sense in this era.

PATRICK: I think there also was a period there where, to Pete’s point, it was a weird time to be a rock band. We had this very strange thing that happened to us, and not a lot of our friends for some reason, where we had a bunch of hits, right? And it didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t make sense to me. But there was a kind of novelty, where we could play a whole set of songs that a lot of people know. It was fun and rewarding for us to do that. But then you run the risk of playing the same set forever. I want to love the songs that we play. I want to care about it and put passion into what we do. And there’s no sustainable way to just do the same thing every night and not get jaded. We weren’t getting there but I really wanted to make sure that we don’t ever get there.

PETE: In the origin of Fall Out Boy, what happened at our concerts was we knew how to play five songs really fast and jumped off walls and the fire marshal would shut it down. It was what made the show memorable, but we wanted to be able to last and so we tried to perfect our show and the songs and the stage show and make it flawless. Then you don’t really know how much spontaneity you want to include, because something could go wrong. When we started this tour, and we did a couple of spontaneous things, it opened us up to more. Because things did go wrong and that’s what made the show special. We’re doing what is the most punk rock version of what we could be doing right now.

You seem generally a lot more comfortable celebrating your past success at this point in your career.

PETE: I think it’s actually not a change from our past. I love those records, but I never want to treat them in a cynical way. I never want there to be a wink and a smile where we’re just doing this because it’s the anniversary. This was us celebrating these random songs and we hope people celebrate them with us. There was a purity to it that felt in line with how we’ve always felt about it. I love ‘Folie à Deux’ - out of any Fall Out Boy record that's probably the one I would listen to. But I just never wanted it to be done in a cynical way, where we feel like we have to. But celebrating it in a way where there’s the purity of how we felt when we wrote the song originally. I think that’s fucking awesome.

PATRICK: Music is a weird art form. Because when you’re an actor and you play a character, that is a specific thing. James Bond always wears a suit and has a gun and is a secret agent. If you change one thing, that’s fine, but you can’t really change all of it. But bands are just people. You are yourself. People get attached to it like it’s a story but it’s not. That was always something I found difficult. For the story, it’s always good to say, ‘it’s the 20th anniversary, let’s go do the 20th anniversary tour’, that’s a good story thing. But it’s not always honest. We never stopped playing a lot of the songs from ‘Take This To Your Grave’, right? So why would I need to do a 20-year anniversary and perform all the songs back to back? The only reason would be because it would probably sell a lot of tickets and I don’t really ever want to be motivated by that, frankly.

One of the things that’s been amazing is that now as the band has been around for a while, we have different layers of audience. I love ‘Folie à Deux’, I do, I love that record. But I had a really personally negative experience of touring on it. So that’s what I think of when I think of that record initially. It had to be brought back to me for me to appreciate it, for me to go, ‘oh, this record is really great. I should be happy with this. I should want to play this,’ So that’s why we got into a lot of the b-sides because we realised that our perspectives on a lot of these songs were based in our feelings and experiences from when we were making them. But you can find new experiences if you play those songs. You can make new memories with them.

You alluded there to the 20th anniversary of ‘Take This To Your Grave’. Obviously you have changed and developed as a band hugely since then. But is there anything you can point to about making that debut record that has remained a part of your process since then?

PETE: We have a language, the band, and it’s definitely a language of cinema and film. That’s maintained through time. We had very disparate music tastes and influences but I think film was a place we really aligned. You could have a deep discussion, because none of us were filmmakers. You could say which part was good and which part sucked and not hurt anybody’s feelings, because you weren’t going out to make a film the next day. Whereas with music, I think if we’d only had that to talk about, we would have turned out a different band.

PATRICK: ‘Take This To Your Grave’, even though it’s absolutely our first record, there’s an element of it that’s still a work in progress. It is still a band figuring itself out. Andy wasn’t even officially in the band for half of the recording, right? I wasn’t even officially the guitar player for half of the recording. We were still bumbling through it. There was something that popped up a couple times throughout the record where you got these little inklings of who the band really was. We really explored that on ‘From Under the Cork Tree’’. So when we talk about what has remained the same… I didn’t want to be a singer, I didn’t know anything about singing, I wasn’t playing on that. I didn’t even plan to really be in this band for that long because Pete had a real band that really toured so I thought this was gonna be a side project. So there’s always been this element within the band where I don’t put too many expectations on things and then Pete has this really big ambition, creatively. There’s this great interplay between the tour of us where I’m kind of oblivious, and I don’t know when I’m putting out a big idea and Pete has this amazing vision to find what goes where. There’s something really magical about that because I never could have done a band like this without it. We needed everybody, we needed all four of us. And I think that’s the thing that hasn’t changed - the four of us just being ourselves and trying to figure things out. Listening back to ‘Folie’ or ‘Infinity On High’ or ‘American Beauty’. I’m always amazed at how much better they are than I remember. I listened to ‘MANIA’ the other day. I have a lot of misgivings about that record, a lot of things I’m frustrated about. But then I’m listening to it and I’m like, ‘this is pretty good.’ There’s a lot of good things in there. I don’t know why, it’s kind of like you can’t see those things. It’s kind of amazing to have Pete be able to see those things. And likewise, sometimes Pete has no idea when he writes something brilliant, as a lyricist, and I have to go, ‘No, I’m gonna keep that one, I’m gonna use that.’

On ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ you teamed up with producer Neal Avron again for the first time since 2008. Given how much time has passed, did it take a minute to reestablish that connection or did you pick up where you left off?

PATRICK: It really didn’t feel like any time had passed between us and Neal. It was pretty seamless in terms of working with him. But then there was also the weird aspect where the last time we worked with him was kind of contentious. Interpersonally, the four of us were kind of fighting with each other…as much as we do anyway. We say that and then that myth gets built bigger than it was. We were always pretty cool with each other. It’s just that the least cool was making ‘Folie’. So then getting into it again for this record, it was like no time had passed as people but the four of us got on better so we had more to bring to Neal.

PETE: It’s a little bit like when you return to your parents’ house for the holiday break when you’re in college. It’s the same house but now I can drink with my parents. We’d grown up and the first times we worked with Neal, he had to do so much more boy scout leadership, ‘you guys are all gonna be okay, we’re gonna do this activity to earn this badge so you guys don’t fucking murder each other.’ This time, we probably got a different version of Neal that was even more creative, because he had to do less psychotherapy.

He went deep too. Sometimes when you’re in a session with somebody, and they’re like, ‘what are we singing about?’, I’ll just be like, ‘stuff’. He was not cool with ‘stuff’. I would get up and go into the bathroom outside the studio and look in the mirror, and think ‘what is it about? How deep are we gonna go?’ That’s a little bit scarier to ask yourself. If last time Neal was like a boy scout leader, this time, it was more like a Sherpa. He was helping us get to the summit.

The title track of the album also finds you in a very reflective mood, even bringing back lyrics from ‘Love From the Other Side’. How would you describe the meaning behind that title and the song itself?

PETE: The record title has a couple of different meanings, I guess. The biggest one to me is that we basically all are former stars. That’s what we’re made of, those pieces of carbon. It still feels like the world’s gonna blow and it’s all moving too fast and the wrong things are moving too slow. That track in particular looks back at where you sometimes wish things had gone differently. But this is more from the perspective of when you’re watching a space movie, and they’re too far away and they can’t quite make it back. It doesn’t matter what they do and at some point, the astronaut accepts that. But they’re close enough that you can see the look on their face. I feel like there’s moments like that in the title track. I wish some things were different. But, as an adult going through this, you are too far away from the tether, and you’re just floating into space. It is sad and lonely but in some ways, it’s kind of freeing, because there’s other aspects of our world and my life that I love and I want to keep shaping and changing.

Patrick: I’ll open up Pete’s lyrics and I just start hearing things. It almost feels effortless in a lot of ways. I just read his lyrics and something starts happening in my head. The first line, ‘I’m in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now’, instantly the piano started to form to me. That was a song that I came close to not sending the band. When I make demos, I’ll usually wait until I have five or six to send to everybody. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna like this. It’s too moody or it’s not very us. But it was pretty unanimous. Everybody liked that one. I knew this had to end the record. It took on a different life in the context of the whole album. Then on the bridge section, I knew it was going to be the lyrics from “Love From The Other Side’. It’s got to come back here. It’s the bookends, but I also love lyrically what it does, you know, ‘in another life, you were my babe’, going back to that kind of regret, which feels different in ‘Love From The Other Side’ than it does here. When the whole song came together, it was the statement of the record.

Aside from the album, you have released a few more recent tracks that have opened you up to a whole new audience, most notably the collaboration with Taylor Swift on ‘Electric Touch’.

PETE: Taylor is the only artist that I’ve met or interacted with in recent times who creates exactly the art of who she is, but does it one such a mass level. So that’s breathtaking to watch from the sidelines. The way fans traded friendship bracelets, I don’t know what the beginning of it was, but you felt that everywhere. We felt that, I saw that in the crowd on our tour. I don’t know Taylor well, but I think she’s doing exactly what she wants and creating exactly the art that she wants to create. And going that, on such a level, is really awe-inspiring to watch. It makes you want to make the biggest, weirdest version of our thing and put that out there.

Then there was the cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, which has had some big chart success for you. That must have taken you slightly by surprise.

PATRICK: It’s pretty unexpected. Pete and I were going back and forth about songs we should cover and that was an idea that I had. This is so silly but there was a song a bunch of years ago I had kind of written called ‘Dark Horse’ and then there was a Katy Perry song called ‘Dark Horse’ and I was like, ‘damn it’, you know, I missed the boat on that one. So I thought if we don’t do this cover, somebody else is gonna do it. Let’s just get in the studio and just do it. We spent way more time on those lyrics than you would think because we really wanted to get a specific feel. It was really fun and kind of loose, we just came together in Neal’s house and recorded it in a day.

PETE: There's irreverence to it. I thought the coolest thing was when Billy Joel got asked about it, and he was like, ‘I’m not updating it, that’s fine, go for it.’ I hope if somebody ever chose to update one of ours, we’d be like that. Let them do their thing, they’ll have that version. I thought that was so fucking cool.

It’s almost no secret that the sound you became most known for in the md-2000s is having something of a commercial revival right now But what is interesting is seeing how bands are building on that sound and changing it.

PATRICK: I love when anybody does anything that feels honest to them. Touring with Bring Me The Horizon, it was really cool seeing what’s natural to them. It makes sense. We changed our sound over time but we were always going to do that. It wasn’t a premeditated thing but for the four of us, it would have been impossible to maintain making the same kind of music forever. Whereas you’ll play with some other bands and they live that one sound. You meet up with them for dinner or something and they’re wearing the shirt of the band that sounds just like their band. You go to their house and they’re playing other bands that sound like them because they live in that thing. Whereas with the four of us and bands like Bring Me The Horizon, we change our sounds over time. And there’s nothing wrong with either. The only thing that’s wrong is if it’s unnatural to you. If you’re AC/DC and all of a sudden power ballads are in and you’re like, ‘Okay, we’ve got to do a power ballad’, that’s when it sucks. But if you’re a thrash metal guy who also likes Celine Dion then yeah, do a power ballad. Emo as a word doesn’t mean anything anymore. But if people want to call it that, if the emo thing is back or having another life again, if that’s what’s natural to an artist, I think the world needs more earnest art. If that’s who you are, then do it.

PETE: It would be super egotistical to think that the wave that started with us and My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco has just been circling and cycling back. I remember seeing Nikki Sixx at the airport and he was like, ‘Oh you’re doing a flaming bass? Mine came from a backpack.’ It keeps coming back but it looks different. Talking to Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD when he was around, it’s so interesting, because it’s so much bigger than just emo or whatever. It’s this whole big pop music thing that’s spinning and churning, and then it moves on, and then it comes back with different aspects and some of the other stuff combined. When you’re a fan of music and art and film, you take different stuff, you add different ingredients, because that’s your taste. Seeing the bands that are up and coming to me, it’s so exciting, because the rules are just different, right? It’s really cool to see artists that lean into the weirdness and lean into a left turn when everyone’s telling you to make a right. That’s so refreshing.

PATRICK: It’s really important as an artist gets older to not put too much stock in your own influence. The moment right now that we’re in is bigger than emo and bigger than whatever was happening in 2005. There’s a great line in ‘Downton Abbey’ where someone was asking the Lord about owning this manor and he’s like ‘well, you don’t really own it, there have been hundreds of owners and you are the custodian of it for a brief time.’ That’s what pop music is like. You just have the ball for a minute and you’re gonna pass it on to somebody else.

We will soon see you in the UK for your arena tour. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

PETE: I remember the first time we went to the UK, I wasn’t prepared for how culturally different it was. When we played Reading & Leeds and the summer festivals, it was so different, and so much deeper within the culture. It was a little bit of a shock. The first couple of times we played, I was like, ‘Oh, my God, are we gonna die?’ because the crowd was so crazy, and there was bottles. Then when we came back, we thought maybe this is a beast to be tamed. Finally, you realise it’s a trading of energy. That made the last couple of festivals we played so fucking awesome. When you realise that the fans over there are real fans of music It’s really awesome and pretty beautiful.

PATRICK: We’ve played the UK now more than a lot of regions of the states. Pretty early on, I just clicked with it. There were differences, cultural things and things that you didn’t expect. But it never felt that different or foreign to me, just a different flavour…

PETE: This is why me and Patrick work so well together (laughs).

PATRICK: Well, listen; I’m a rainy weather guy. There is just things that I get there. I don’t really drink anymore all that much. But I totally will have a beer in the UL, there’s something different about every aspect of it, about the ordering of it, about the flavour of it, everything, it’s like a different vibe. The UK audience seemed to click with us too. There have been plenty of times where we felt almost like a UK band than an American one. There have been years where you go there and almost get a more familial reaction than you would at home.

Rock Sound has always been a part of that for us. It was one of the first magazines to care about us and the first magazine to do real interviews. That’s the thing, you would do all these interviews and a lot of them would be like ‘so where did the band’s name come from?’ But Rock Sound took us seriously as artists, maybe before some of us did. That actually made us think about who we are and that was a really cool experience. I think in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t be the band we are without the UK, because I think it taught us a lot about what it is to be yourself.

Fall Out Boy’s ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is out now via Fueled By Ramen

#fall out boy #fob #tourdust #pete wentz #patrick stump #fob interview #so much for stardust #smfs era #your unemployed friend at 2pm on a monday:#anyways. hope this is helpful i loved the interview!

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