#though if you have claustrophobia there is a scene that is very likely to Get you bad so be prepared for that

[blinkpen]

to convey just how much i loved NOPE, i actually go out of my way to look for analyses, gifsets and fanart. like, i go into the tag for this movie, and look at/read stuff. this may not sound impressive, but if you know me, personally, i’m not a ‘fandom’ person. a mix between me being an anhedonic weirdo who is naturally pretty disinterested in most things, my brain just not being wired to crave fan content, and also Knowing Better than to look directly at the fandom of anything i do enjoy for my own good. either way, even when i love something to pieces, i pretty much literally never do that kinda of thing.

its just such a mentally engaging film packed to bursting with things to examine and admire and such an interesting theme/core message that is not something you see often, while being so masterfully crafted visually on top of that that i am still thinking about it weeks and weeks later and wanting to see other people’s ruminations as well.

#sporadic warbling #its one of those movies that i only like more and more the longer i think about it #and i DO think about it more and more bc it inspires thought #the only reason i dont ramble about specifics are go on a rare Veri Reblogs Stuff spree #is i wanna give a bit more time for others to see it #normally i think being hung up on spoilers is a detriment but its not even like critical reveals or plot beats #its just the kinda film that very much benefits from being seen blind #anyway watch NOPE #though if you have claustrophobia there is a scene that is very likely to Get you bad so be prepared for that #actually i might make a full potential trigger warning list later if anyone would like one

[notjustjavierpena]

Terror

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby. 

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward. 

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street. 

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are. 

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere. 

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo. 

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can. 

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing. 

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes. 

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment. 

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.” 

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up. 

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.  

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.” 

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe. 

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently— 

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?” 

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again. 

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while? 

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin. 

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).” 

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to. 

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door. 

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently. 

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light. 

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him. 

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads. 

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin. 

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head. 

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning. 

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush. 

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. 

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky. 

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

.

.

.

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[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (9/?) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: You're in peril but don't be afraid, help is near. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,568 (this chapter, 22,261 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Trigger warning: claustrophobia Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Halo season 2 has finally arrived! However, this fic continues to zip along in the AU Party Warthog, so, while we began with season 1 way back when (and you’ll see a few more things from s1 along the way 😉), we’ll not be venturing into s2 territory at all. Unless s2 is going to take some verrrrry interesting twists, lol! Chapter 10 is in progress by hand but I hope to have it ready soon. 🤞😣🤞 The tags have been updated for hurt/comfort starting with this chapter. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Trigger warning again: claustrophobia If you need to avoid the actual scene, skip the entire first section but there will be a lot of mentions of it again through the rest of the chapter, just so you're aware. I don't want to cause any distress to anyone so if you'd like a recap of what happens in this chapter, feel free to contact me here and I'm happy to oblige so you can stay in-the-know without reading something that could trigger a bad reaction. Stay safe, my friends! 🤗

You tried to gasp in a breath but there was a weight pinning you down. Smoke burned your lungs and your eyes. Your left arm couldn't move but you were able to bring your right hand up to wipe your face, trying to clear your vision. The only light in the rubble came from a shower of sparks a few feet away, emitting from a panel half-ripped from the wall. There was very little to orientate yourself by.

"Hello?" you tried to call but you couldn't take a deep enough breath to yell. The muffled ring in your ears told you that at least one of your eardrums had ruptured.

Evaluate, you thought in the tone you used when triaging patients, shoving down a wave of panic. You tried to squeeze out from under whatever was pressed across your back. No good, too much weight.

There wasn't a tremendous amount of pain but you worried at the numbness from your waist down, behind whatever was restraining you.

Evaluate.

You tested moving your legs, your feet, your toes. It felt strange but yes, you had movement.

Spinal cord potentially compromised but not severed, you diagnosed as clinically as possible.

Something overhead gave an alarming groan.

Alert help. Report your position.

"Hello? I'm by the crane operator booth. Can anyone hear me?"

You couldn't get the volume you wanted and you automatically tried to inhale deeper. You couldn't and had to fight another wave of panic. The animal part of your brain wanted to claw the twisted metal of the deck, trying to squirm free, but when you twitched, something above you groaned again.

You had no way to know how perilous the collapsed structure was. A wrong move could bring it all down.

A fresh wave of smoke irritated your nose and you coughed weakly. From far away, you heard the muffled sound of a woman saying your rank and last name.

"Here," you choked out. "I'm here."

A blue light shimmered a few feet away, the lower half of a blue-tinted woman, her upper body phased through the rubble. Then she shrank until she fit the space, adjusting like a camera lens. A hologram.

She repeated your rank and last name. "We have your location," she said, your damaged hearing distorting her voice. "Sit tight, a rescue crew is on their way."

You tried to respond but the smoke triggered more coughing, so you nodded.

"I'll stay with you for as long as the holo-emiter holds," she said, gesturing towards the ruined wall panel that continued to spark.

"Thank you," you managed to say. "Casualties?"

She glanced up and away as if receiving new information. "Reports coming in of injuries but no fatalities. Your alert gave enough time for almost everyone to get clear."

"Good." You made yourself slow your breathing down, taking shallow breaths since you couldn't take deeper ones. For a moment, your head swam and it felt like the floor tipped. Your fingers scratched for a hold on the crumpled metal.

The sound of your rank and name cut through the terror. "You're all right," the woman assured you. "You're not falling. Try to stay still. Silver Team will be back on site in a few more minutes. John will be here soon."

It gave you something to focus on other than bring trapped. The way she knew that the mention of John would comfort you, that she didn't call him Master Chief like most people did, even the mannerism of how she'd looked away, like someone was speaking in her ear...

"Your name wouldn't be Ms. Classified, would it?" you asked haltingly and tried to smile.

"That's... not inaccurate," she said and maybe it was your blurry vision but you could've sworn she gave you a fond smile, like she knew you. "I'm not supposed to tell my name."

You tried to say it was all right but couldn't draw enough breath.

"Ah, screw it," she said. "What are they going to do, fire me? My name is Cortana."

You must've blacked out because the next thing you knew, she was kneeling next to you, her small holographic hand resting atop your outstretched arm as she repeated your rank and name.

If you could get a breath, you needed a good, solid breath. Your chest instinctively fought to expand but couldn't beneath the pressure bearing down on your back. Something above you slid and the pressure abruptly worsened. You clawed, you fought, you struggled to breathe. To live.

"John, get here now! The support beam is failing!"

"Not his fault," you tried to say. "Tell him. Not his--"

Metal screamed and everything went dark.

You woke, grasping at nothing. You still couldn't get a deep breath but this time you were on your back and it felt like someone had laced a corset brutally tight around you.

"Easy there. You're all right," said a deep voice.

Your vision swam and then Spartan Vannak-134 appeared out from the dim lighting. You were still clawing at the air, trying to sit up, and he caught your hand a little awkwardly in his much larger ones.

"Where?" you gasped.

"You're back on Reach, in medical."

Once he said it, details emerged like a black and white picture filling in with color: the beeps of the monitors, the distinctive antiseptic smell. Your hearing was still deadened but not as much as before, meaning they had already begun healing therapies on your eardrums.

Anything you might've wanted to say dissolved like sugar on your tongue before the words could be spoken. Your head seemed too full. I'm drugged, you thought and that was the last thing you knew for a while.

Voices drew you from the murky depths and you tried to open your eyes but couldn't.

"Hold her hand," Vannak said in a quiet rumble. "She likes that."

A new hand gently folded around yours and your fingers instinctively gripped hold.

You woke, feeling the phantom press of metal bearing down on you, forcing the air from your lungs. You tried to sit up, your limbs flailed, uncoordinated and leaden. A second hand closed around yours and a feminine voice began to softly sing, a lullaby in a language you didn't recognize.

The room was blurry but you caught a glimpse of red hair -- Spartan Riz-028. You went under once more, dreaming of music that soothed your fears.

Later, there was a new voice to lure you up from the sticky darkness.

"Poor little thing. She looks so small."

"She'll heal. Hold her hand, it helps."

At some point, you jolted awake to find your hand cradled carefully within Kai's.

"Hey," she said, sitting up straighter in the chair next to the bed. "You need anything?"

Your head felt less stuffed with cotton than before but now that cotton seemed to have been transferred to your mouth. "Water?" you croaked.

She jumped up and returned shortly, carrying a cup with a straw in it. You intended to sit up but a searing pain in your ribs immediately convinced you that was a bad idea and you let her help you by holding the straw to your lips.

"Slowly," she advised.

Once you'd taken a couple of sips, you mumbled your thanks then promptly passed out.

You thought you'd closed your eyes for a brief moment but when they fluttered open, it wasn't Kai sitting in the chair, holding your hand.

As soon as John knew you were awake, he was on his feet, carefully brushing the fingertips of his free hand along the curve of your cheek.

You mouthed his name.

"Rest," he said. "I'm here. You're safe."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you truly felt as if you were. Your mind let go.

"And how's our favorite mech, the Hero of the Pit?"

"That's not a very heroic name," you confessed, smiling as Maria and then Jamie entered medical.

You were sitting on the side of the bed in generic gray scrubs, waiting for Dr. Savannah to give you final instructions before your release. It had been two days since the explosion. Your hearing had, thankfully, returned to normal. The rest of you... not so much but you were on the mend.

They both gave you careful hugs.

"You look a lot less like you were squashed by a building," Jamie said sincerely and Maria punched his arm. "Hey, that was a compliment!"

"Don't make me laugh," you begged, holding your left side. They'd fused your broken ribs back together but the tissue damage would take longer to resolve. Still, aches, pains, limited motion and all, you knew you were very lucky.

"I hope they're giving you a nice vacation, at least," Maria went on.

"I should be ready for light duty in a week."

"Technically, I said we'd evaluate you for light duty in a week," Dr. Savannah corrected as she entered. "Afraid your friends will have to catch up with you later."

They said their goodbyes and, as they left, you started to stand. The doctor quickly said, "No, you don't. I don't want you walking on that leg."

"It's not broken," you argued.

"Not anymore," she countered. "Stay put. I got you a ride."

"I don't need to be wheeled back to the barracks." You tried to keep your tone confident but the truth was even that little bit of exertion had left you feeling twinges all along your left leg. Your left shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat.

"Well, good thing you're wrong on both counts," she said, winking. "And here he is now."

John came through the door, dressed in his undersuit as if either about to head to the Brokkr stations to have his Mjolnir mounted up or returning from having it removed. You didn't even realize you'd moved to rise again until Dr. Savannah put a practiced hand on your good shoulder to keep you down.

"I'll be sending PT to you twice a day, starting tomorrow," she said. "They'll help you to get your strength and mobility back. Around that, rest. Catch up on your reading, watch some thoroughly trashy movies, and keep your feet up. Not too far up, though. Nothing too strenuous. Make him do all of the work."

That got you to look at her and she waggled her eyebrows.

John cleared his throat slightly, a faint but definite flush creeping up from his collar. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right, see you back in a few days, sooner if anything else develops. You know what to watch for."

It wasn't until she stepped back and John approached that it clicked.

"You're going to carry me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated in a murmur that shivered straight down your spine.

Since your left side had taken the brunt of the damage, he put your right to his chest and cautiously picked you up in a bridal carry. Despite the care, being moved set a thousand things to hurting and your breath hitched as he straightened.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you said, your tone tighter than you would've liked. You thought, I hope nobody sees me being toted around like this, but, as soon as you left medical, you realized that no one was actually looking at you.

I think if Master Chief offered to drop me and pick up any marine, ODST or officer in this hall, they'd be hopping into his arms before I even hit the floor!

At the first turn he made, you realized the rest of it. "This isn't the way to the barracks."

"Nope," he said and you knew him well enough now to see the hint of a smile in his eyes.

You didn't have to wait for further clues, there was only one place, then, that he could be taking you. "How many strings did you have to pull for this?"

"Not as many as you might think," he demurred. "Your actions saved lives."

And they could've blamed you for failing to make sure a bomb hadn't been sent to the Pit in the first place. The curly tailed Warthog had been your responsibility, after all. You'd been curtly informed of all that when they'd debriefed you the first day you'd had your eyes open for more than 15 minutes.

You doubted they'd told that to John, though.

When you reached his room, he maneuvered so to get his thumb on the panel without jostling you too much. The lights came on as he took you through the doorway and then he paused.

"Kai," he rumbled, shaking his head. "She said studies show people heal better with color. I should've known she'd overdo it. Say the word and I'll have her in here clearing this out."

"It's your room," you said, "but personally, I love it."

The duvet on the bed and the pillows on the couch were now a rainbow of jewel tones. A tapestry with a field of sunflowers dominated the wall at the foot of the bed and you could've sworn there was a dusting of diamond glitter shimmering on every wall, sending tiny holographic rainbows through the air in all directions. But the main thing that caught your attention was overhead.

"She put up stars," you said, brightening.

"Ah, that one was actually me," he confessed. "You seemed to really like those in her room so I thought..."

You stretched up in his arms, inhaling a little sharply at the stab of pain in your left side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love them, John. Thank you."

A short time later, you found yourself lying on the bed in the darkened room, looking up at those stars. John had profusely apologized for not being able to stay after getting you settled in. He'd turned down the bed so you wouldn't have to, had put your padd close at hand on the nightstand to the right along with a bottle of water and a couple of emergency ration packs in case you got hungry before someone bought you a meal. He'd even procured you a set of unthinkably soft civvies to change into, exactly your size and in your favorite color.

You couldn't imagine that a Spartan had ever taken care of a sick or wounded person before, other than in a battlefield triage situation, so he'd probably found a checklist from somewhere to guide him. His earnestness to make sure he'd done everything right sent warmth flooding through you.

Before he left, he'd paused to kiss the top of your head.

"You know," you said, lifting your chin, "my lips aren't broken."

He hesitated. "The last time I did that, an entire base fell on you."

"Only the warehouse part," you said dismissively, "and there was absolutely no correlation, I promise."

He tried to smile at that but his eyes still showed concern.

"I promise," you repeated more seriously and he exhaled as if about to make a tremendous leap. His kiss was so soft and gentle, it was barely more than a whisper against your mouth.

Once he had left, you'd considered taking Dr. Savannah's advice and watching a holo, reading something on your padd, or doing any number of things to pass the time but ultimately, you'd wanted to appreciate his handiwork.

After all, it wasn't just anybody who could say a Spartan had literally hung the stars for them.

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+ #master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying #ageless aislynn #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic

[littlecactiguy]

Not the writing exercise I expected to do, but I've also been wanting to explore John and Arthur's dynamic (also when you keep all the short things you may write in the same scrivener file, it can lead to a sort of lottery on what gets written).

I am planning to return to what I'm now affectionately calling the 'John is a horse girl' au other snippets, but have this scene in the meantime.

AO3 Link

.

The bed dips. Arthur opens his eyes. As always nowadays, he sees nothing and no voice in his head describes what’s happening.

“John?” He cautiously puts out into the world, while one hand goes under his pillow for his knife.

The movement on the bed pauses. “Yes?”

Arthur lets go of his knife’s hilt. The voice may still be foreign, giving the one it belongs to a new set of lungs and vocal cords will do that, but he knows it regardless. He slides his hand back out from under his pillow and uses it to help prop himself up in a sitting position. “What are you doing?”

This pause is silent, but the hesitation in it is somehow very loud.

“It doesn’t make sense for us to sleep in different rooms,” John finally says, his inflection a smidge below defensiveness, but could easily escalate if challenged. “If we’re attacked, they could take one of us out and the other wouldn’t know about it until it’s too late.”

Arthur does consider arguing against the likeliness of them being attacked (they’ve lived a quiet life for months now with nothing happening). He also takes into account the likeliness of John finding the knife he keeps under his pillow (extremely likely), and decides against it.

“Alright, just stay on that side of the bed.” Arthur lies back down. He closes his eyes.

There is an element of reassurance in knowing his back is covered while he sleeps. While they both were in his body, knowing John was keeping an eye on things, so to speak, had been something Arthur had acclimated to without necessarily thinking about.

Being alone in his head again, even though his sight hasn’t returned to him with the change and he still sometimes had trouble remembering he had a whole second hand to control, does feel wonderful to Arthur. The almost claustrophobia of being trapped in such close proximity to another entity was beyond suffocating.

That said, the emptiness in his head that was left in John’s wake can echo. Arthur will, at times, say something expecting an answer, only to realize John, due to his not physically being in the room, cannot hear him. It’s…he doesn’t want to call it lonely, because Arthur certainly doesn’t want that situation back, but it is something.

Semi-relatedly, in the morning, when Arthur and John wake and find themselves a tangled mess of limbs as evidence their sleeping selves clearly did not adhere to quietly established boundaries, neither will actually say anything about it. The decision that they’ll go back to separate rooms will, once again, be made. Except, as it has so many times before, when it comes to that night, it will, once again, be broken.

#malevolent podcast #malevolent #john doe malevolent #arthur lester #jarthur #privateeyes #cacti creates

[blainesebastian]

lookin’ for trouble

words: 1,662 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (request by @stylesmendeshearted)  You’re an extra on the Elvis set during the Trouble performance 🥵 being the girl whose face he grabs  notes:  once again, masterlist posted here! it’s officially linked on my sidebar :)  warnings: steamy thots but SFW  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell (if you would like to be added to a general taglist for my austin x reader fics, please let me know!) 

A mix of organized chaos.

That’s what Baz reminds you of as you watch him circle back and forth on the stage that Austin is standing on as everyone prepares themselves to shoot the Trouble performance scene. As an extra, you don’t have many responsibilities except facial expressions…which honestly shouldn’t be too difficult given Austin’s sheer talent as Elvis. The way he moves his body and delivers his lines is just…art, there’s no other word for it. He completely gives himself over to performing and it’s hard not to get caught right up in it.

Anything going on with your face is completely genuine.

You know the general layout for the scene, feeling a bit cramped as you stand right up against the stage, several other extras behind you. Once the music begins and Austin starts performing, the crowd gets more and more rowdy, pushing you right into the stage edge. It’s not comfortable and kind of eats away at your claustrophobia but there’s a purpose here to almost throw yourself over the divide, to try and get closer and closer to Austin as he becomes more lewd in his movements.

Curling your hair around your ear, you wait patiently as Baz gives feedback to Austin about his last performance and then finally gives some direction about what he can do with the extras. The thing about Austin is that he definitely listens, takes notes, but when he’s fully into performing? There’s not too much of a script he follows. He keys in on Presley movements but he also adlibs according to the crowd’s reactions.

It's so incredible to see up close.

You’ve spoken with him a few offhanded times while participating in some scenes and Austin has always been extremely generous with his time. He doesn’t have to talk with any of the extras if he doesn’t want to—and yet he always does. He goes beyond just scene conversations—he asks names, how they’re doing, where they’re from, so on and so forth. It makes it really easy to work with him, even though you’re not as upper level as a co-star.

Austin stands in front of the mic, working his shoulders back a little and loosening his body movements. There are a few moments where he sways back and forth with his hips, humming a few of the lines he’s eventually going to sing. While others prepare for the shot, he skims the crowd before his eyes fall on you.

Your heart plummets straight into your belly because your gazes definitely connect, a small smile tugging the corners of your mouth. The way he’s dressed reaches straight into your chest and squeezes, a heated ache so easily between your legs that it’s hard to shake. He’s made for this role, that very much is certain. The black suit adds a darkness to his blue eyes, like the deep ocean, charcoal makeup gently sitting underneath. His socks match his cherry red tie, a pop of color that somehow comes directly for your throat and—suddenly he’s moving, crouching down in front of you.

“Y/N, right?”

He remembers your name and you nod, taking a step closer as you put your hand on the stage, “Yeah, hi.”

“Hey,” Some strands of his hair hang loose over his forehead, “I know Baz has talked to all the extras about performances bein’ unplanned but uh, I was wonderin’ if it was alright if I touched you—maybe clasped at your face. I just didn’t want you to be surprised—”

“No, that’s fine.” You answer quickly, far too quickly, your cheeks kissing pink at the realization.

He smiles slowly, amusement swimming in his blue eyes as he takes you in. There’s a definite moment where his gaze finds your lips and that seems wildly unfair.

You clear your throat, shaking your head. “I mean—whatever you need to do, that’s fine. I get it—bein’ in the moment and everything.”

“Okay,” He laughs lightly, “Good.” Austin turns his attention towards someone saying his name and gets up from his position on the stage.

You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally kick yourself at sounding so utterly ridiculous. Honestly, it’s nice that he even asked—he didn’t have to. When you were hired for this thing you went through all the hoops with Baz that Austin often performed by reacting to the audience. That made some of his movements unscripted.

But now there’s this ridiculous anticipation heated like fire in your belly as the set quiets, getting ready to call action. Which, this has to be exactly on brand with what the scene calls for, seeing Elvis walk onto stage, wondering what version of himself he’s going to be. That eagerness about how you’re not quite sure what you’re about to see, but you already know it’s going to be amazing.

And Austin nothing short of delivers.

A sharp breath leaves your body as the music plays back, a hearty thump of sound—

“If you’re lookin’ for trouble—you came to the right place.”

The crowd’s reactions are a slow boil, like a covered tea kettle in which pressure and heat builds and builds until it begins to whistle. Watching Austin on stage move his body to the music as he sings has got to be one of the easiest things to react to. There’s a fluidity to his body, like the rhythm and lyrics move through him while he performs. It’s addictive, hard to tear your eyes away, attempting to absorb absolutely every part. Not to mention that your body is reacting to his, hips slowly swiveling to the beat, heart hammering in your ears, palms sweating.

It's almost hard to remember that your reaction to him shouldn’t be internalized, even though it’s hard not to feel completely overwhelmed in this environment. You let out a short breath, taking a step forward and beginning to work past the guards creating a barrier, reaching out, knowing he’s only going to get closer.

“But if you’re gonna start a rumble, don’t you try it out alone!”

You audibly gasp even though you’re in good company around you in terms of sound, one hand resting on your chest while the other covers your mouth. As much as you’ve seen Austin perform, nothing prepares you for when he rocks back on the toes of his feet and lands directly on his knees, along the edge of the stage, slowly thrusting his hips forward as he sings the line,

“Because I’m evil.”

Your eyes widen automatically and you’re suddenly very glad that the background noise is so loud that no one hears the very obvious moan leaving your lips. Your gaze travels from his legs to his torso, right up to his face and he’s staring at you. Your hand falls from your mouth; Austin is not at all gentle as he leans forward and grabs at your chin, holding you close and in place as he sings the next line,

“My middle name is misery.”

You’re about to lose your goddamn mind.

It’s over as soon as it happens, way too fucking soon, he’s already pulling back—but the heated impression his fingers has left on your cheeks remain. You’re distantly aware of the scene continuing, of his movement on stage, the way the crowd swells and pushes you forward like the crash and swell of waves. The entire scene plays out, the chaos erupting around you until the song ends and cut is yelled out. A soft breath leaves your lips, more space being given to you to breathe and back up off the stage’s edge.

There’s a trembling in your body as extras begin to disperse, taking a ten-minute break before they film the scene one more time. You’ve learned options are important, you just can’t believe Austin has to give an entire performance all over again. The stamina the man must have is something you’re not sure you want to think about,

Not right now, not when your knees feel like jelly and there’s a dampness between your legs that’s very hard to ignore at this point. Licking your lips, you push your hair over your shoulder and move quickly towards the restrooms to give yourself some time, your body pulsing and insistent in a way that’s a bit hard to disregard.

“Y/N!”

You turn sharply, nearly running right into Austin as he makes his way over. Jesus this is such bad timing…or maybe perfect timing given how electrically sensitive everything feels, like you’re an exposed nerve. The hairs on your skin are standing straight up and there’s this ache sitting sharply in your lower belly. Can Austin tell how much of a mess you are?

“You alright, you look a little flushed?”

You clear your throat, your eyes taking him in. He’s sweaty from the performance, yet somehow looks even more attractive than he did before. How does he do that? Not to mention, after this break he has to be completely put back together again for another performance. Just blows your mind.

“Yeah, oh yeah—I’m fine,” You chew on the inside of your cheek, “Just a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” Good cover, great cover.

Austin nods slowly, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “So that was okay? I didn’t grab you too hard, did I?”

Honestly, not hard enough—you blink, luckily that response sits on your tongue and actually doesn’t make it past your lips. You hum, “No you were good uh, just—” Your blow a breath out, fluttering your lips, “Perfect. Excellent really.”

Austin laughs a little, chewing on his lower lip. His eyes flutter over your form for a moment, taking a step closer, “Good to know—so…what you’re sayin’ is, you wouldn’t hate a repeat performance?”

You feel heat coil down like a snake to your core, holding Austin’s blue gaze as you slowly shake your head. “Definitely wouldn’t hate a repeat performance.”

--

Thank you for reading :)

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler drabble #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

[bloodplague]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and I was looking through your posts and everything. I love your head canons for the creepypasta! And you are a very good artist too. I just wanted to ask if you could do a HC about Laughing Jack or Jason the Toymaker. (Like I said I love your artwork! keep up the good work!)

Jason the Toymaker & Laughing Jack Headcanons

Suree!! I'm not a big Jason fan so I might not have many, but I'll try!! Also thank you so much!! <3

Jason the Toymaker:

He has the antisocial personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, PTSD and is super possessive.

His friends are Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Bloody Painter and KageKao, mainly.

He's a skilled writer, able to write beautiful texts with little effort.

Jason loves the scent after blowing out candles.

One of his hobbies is fixing broken weapons, always proud of himself once he finished.

Once someone becomes a fond one, they won't ever escape him. He's extremely clingy, possessive and will threaten them if they try to leave.

He doesn't know when he's doing something wrong. Example: After threatening someone he likes because of reasons, and they lash out at him, he'll be super confused, not knowing what he did wrong.

No matter what he does, he will ALWAYS defend his actions.

Doesn't usually torture a lot when killing but still tends to be sadistic.

LOVES listening to someone playing piano while he's working on something, it helps him to not get distracted.

When he's mad, he will punch walls aggressively and rip out his hair, blaming anyone but not himself for whatever made him this mad.

A walking redflag, basically...

Sometimes, Jason and Helen hang out, just talking while Helen draws and Jason works on his little toys.

When Jason gets really mad, he'll start stuttering, not able to handle the rage that keeps building up inside him, so he destroys things around him to show how angry he is.

Laughing Jack:

He laughs like Peter Griffin.

His comfort is gore, basically. When killing, he tries to make it as gory/bloody as possible.

His best friends are Nina, Clockwork, Jill and Pinkamena.

Jack has PTSD and psychosis.

This guy has claustrophobia, to be honest.

His tongue is really long, just like his arms.

When he's mad, he'll be extremely loud mouthed, more than he already is anyway.

Speaking off, he'd do ANYTHING to make his friends laugh, hurting anyone's feelings just to make fond ones smile and giggle, even if the one he's making fun of is having a rage burst or mental break down.

He's overly clingy and can be very sassy.

Biggest ENFP

He loves taking care of Sally and Lazari since they replace what he needed back then: A friend.

Even if he always dresses black and white, he has a small little bow somewhere on his body, usually because of Nina.

Constantly craves candy, chips and chocolate milkshake, giggling while devouring that shit.

Hates Rouge for some unknown reasons, just like Wilson.

Can come off as overly playful and childish, even though he's highly manipulative, easily leading his victims into some trap just to violently torture the living shit out of them.

When anyone tries to hurt his fond ones, he will be extremely aggressive and violent, ready to do whatever it takes to protect the ones close to him. Loosing another person would destroy him.

When he's REALLY close to someone, he'll be really touchy and sometimes even mushy, just trying to get their attention by acting all "adorable", like some starving puppy.

LOVES Scene's and emo's so much, he always points at them with his finger when he sees one like the silly person he is.

He has a really sharp chin.

His whole face turns red when he laughs or gets embarrassed.

#Laughing jack #jason the toymaker #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons

[cherry-writes-yanderes]

I absolutely adore how you wrote Yandere Gregory! You really nailed it as kids are already by nature possessive and bossy. And I can imagine even if you fight back against him (pushing, throwing off), there's his much larger, stronger, faster, resilient, and overprotective bodyguard named Freddy he'll exaggerate the story to and probably will get so upset, he almost overwrites his "no hurting guests" programming but Gregory soothes him before it happens. Then he can use that scenario against you in the future as further evidence you don't want to upset papa bear's kid and that includes leaving. Speaking of which, may we please get a reader who attempts to escape yandere!Glamrock Freddy but fails? Please make this a story. Like maybe it didn't occur to him that they can find a way out through his seemingly inescapable charging room through the vent. I'm so sorry. I just feel like having a chase scene and he takes them back to his room by force while being very upset that his sweetheart would even think about leaving him. Damn! I might as well write it myself, that was specific as hell lol

Yeah, take your time! I completely understand how demanding college is. I've been there.

A/N: Don’t be sorry sweetie! You’re welcome to long asks ;) I appreciate your kind words, they mean so much!~ I hope you enjoy! 💕 Also, apologies that this took so long! Life has been busy!! ^^; As well as the fact that this isn’t too great but let’s not talk about that-

~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: gender neutral reader, overprotective behavior, kidnapping, isolation, mentions of physical abuse, force-feeding, drugging, threats of harm, blood, claustrophobia triggers

~~~~~~~~~~

Neon Lights and Bloody Stages

In Freddy’s Green Room, you could never tell the time of day. Time was only driven by three instances: when Freddy would leave for performances, when Freddy would come back from them, and when that blonde lady would come and check on you. 

On a bad day, she’d heal your wounds. Those days were few and far between, since Freddy was a big sweetheart most of the time, but sometimes you’d get what Freddy called “fussy”. You hated it, he acted like you were a damn child sometimes.

Today was different, though. Today was the day you would leave for good. You would leave behind the pizza and soda you were fed every day, the nights being drugged with sleeping candy, those long days of just waiting for someone to finally realize you were gone. You were sick of relying on someone else, and the time was now.

You knew it was destiny when you finally plucked up the courage to look around for a possible escape and finding one in a vent in the wall that you knew you could squeeze into. You guessed that the vent led out to the main area, or even a maintenance area which would prove to be even better. You could not risk Freddy catching you. It would be hell to pay.

Freddy was gone for the long day of performing for children, so now was your chance to leave the room. You internally said goodbye to all of the Freddy-themed things in the room, knowing that you would never have to stare at them for hours on end again. You pulled the vent cover off, the metal slicing into your fingers; but you didn’t care. You were ready to leave.

“Sweetheart! I came back with some pizza-”

You heard his mechanical voice and heavy body enter through the door, your blood freezing in place. You were too late, and he caught you.

“Star? W-What are you doing?” He asked, his ears down as far as they could go on his animatronic head. He was holding a pizza box, fresh from the oven. For a moment, you felt bad. He came early just for you?

You shook it off, knowing that you needed to leave for your own good. You couldn’t stop now for some good-smelling pizza. You quickly launched yourself into the vent and scrambled quickly through the dusty metal box-like hallway as you heard his heavy metal footsteps following after you. You barely dodged his large hand swatting at your leg, trying to pull you back. You crawled on, even after hearing his distressed cries for you.

After what seemed like forever, you managed to get to an area that you thought was safe. It was a long stretch of hallway made of concrete, with yellow paint on the ground. You wondered if this was the staff hallway, and you tried to navigate yourself through. It felt like it went forever, and you wandered around it for what seemed like hours trying to find an exit.

“Star!” Freddy called, utter joy in his voice from finding you. You immediately take off, running in the opposite direction. The sound of his metal footfalls was terrifying, and you prayed that you’d find another vent. No such luck found you. 

You burst through some doors, finding yourself in the main area of the Pizzaplex. The neon lights blinded you, and you tried to look away as you ran. You could hear him calling for you in the distance, so hiding was the best option for now.

A photo booth sat at the crossroads between a staircase and another hallway, so you decided to hide there to hopefully throw the animatronic beast off. You heard his stomping feet move in a direction you weren’t in, causing you to laugh internally. You were so tired of being stuck in the same area, with the same person every time.

You heard someone talking, which made you jump a bit. The only person that you recognized the voice of was the blonde lady, who you still didn’t know the name of. Maybe if she knew you escaped, she could help? It was worth a shot. You carefully emerged from the photo booth, shyly walking up to her.

“(Y/N)?! What are you doing out here?!” She jumped, looking right at you with eyes wide. She was honestly shocked that you were able to escape, and she gave you credit for it.

“Please, help me leave!” You begged her; your hands clasped together to really drive the point home. You heard her sigh out of her nose, her hand on her hip.

“Take them back, Freddy.” 

Your heart nearly stopped. A red light shone from above you, and your eyes slowly looked up to reveal Freddy standing right behind her. He had a blank expression on his face, which you knew wasn’t good at all. The lady stepped out of the way, causing you to try and bolt again. This time, you weren’t so fast.

Freddy grabbed you by the arm, literally dragging you back kicking and screaming to the Green Room. You cried and begged him not to hurt you, but his expression stayed the same. He wasn’t his bubbly, innocent self in this moment. It was truly terrifying for you to see.

As soon as you were tossed into the room like a rag doll, you were scooped up into Freddy’s arms and held like a baby as he sat on the floor. You could feel the terrible burn of the floor on your sides and back, the sting almost too much to bear.

“Why would you try to leave me, Star?...” He asked sadly, giving you the nickname that you had been dubbed with when you two met. He held you even tighter as he forced a Moondrop candy down your throat, hushing you the whole time like a baby.

“Don’t worry... Vanessa will make sure that you don’t have anyone to go home to...” His voice distorted, your vision fading as the candy kicked in.

Taglist

@candyk0rn

@httpsplanetmarsdotcom

@chezzywezzy

@yanderes-galore

#yandere glamrock freddy #yandere fnaf #fnaf fic #fnaf fanfic #yandere five nights at freddys #yandere #glamrock freddy #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #yandere fnaf security breach

[sweetface1]

I been thinking about this for a pretty long time and it makes me happy to see I'm not the only one. Even though Don saw it as a unimportant detail and didn't consider as abuse when u really come to think of it it's actually a really traumatic abuse. And the fact they were still a little kid makes it worse. Even though there is just few seconds about the show and behind the stage i know the situation is even more worse then we see. As a person who has claustrophobia it's really uncomfortable to think how they forced them to stay in a very small cage in all times that they weren't performing I don't want to imagine what else he did to a literal kid. I know it's very deep when u actually think of but don didn't gave a fuck and it makes me really sad only few ppl I cared about this and also don't forget about the fact psyches manipulated the twins. He would easily manipulate them since theyre way too innocent he would easily manipulate them. Like a kid calling their self orphan isn't normal since there is no one to educate them at all. Psyches probably called them orphan and make a joke about it how they learned. And the fact them firstly didn't said anything about their being uncomfortable probably bc they were never asked for their opinions. psyches would probably shut him when they tried to say something (probably most of the times when they're alone) also idk if u noticed but their lips slightly shakes everytime they speak it's probably bc of their being scared of judging and getting bullied by it. And the other thing is they look so uncomfortable while performing on stage with psyches. Well yeah ik most of people think "because they're getting bullied" yes but ur forgetting something this might also because of the way psyches holding them. Thinking about this triggers me so I don't really think far about it. It's obvious the abuse is not only mental but also physical. Another thing I want to say is the scene where they fight with chuck was so random but when u come to think of it it's not weird that how he learned defending himself on cage which also can lead us the fact there is psychical abuse going on and they probably learned while trying to survive. And another thing they only cried in scene where they hugged Jennifer while comforting. They were 6 and it's not normal to a kid to go in all of this without crying. I think it has to do with pyshces again like even if it was a adult whose facing those would cry at least multiple times. it's weird that they cried only once. Plus a everyone was talking about how they look disappointed when chuck laughed and said few irratng things about them well imo that i don't think so it was a disappointed look rather it was a sad and kinda scared look they probably thought they wouldn't accept their self and leave them again (even though they actually didn't leave them but it's probably what they heard from psyches) pls tell me your opinion about this is one of my fav topic to think and disguse about. One last think I forget to mention I think "but aren't violence is bad?" Also comes from the abuse they experienced. I don't have explanation for this one . The fact they're trying to get well with their parents is also bc of this. They're scared they might left them and they will have to become a orphan again well the next one I'm saying might be wrong since I forget to rewatch that one scene ; when Glenda was in control and tiff raised their hand to get Glen again they closed they're eyes as tiff raised their hand that can be bc of some trauma too. I'm not gonna say more since it's very long and I don't want to make u tired. If you want to share (pls do) your opinions and thoughs and more head canons (this one is the one I wanna hear most) I'll be waiting excitingly. Sorry for bad english btw and hope u have a great day thanks for taking your time to read :]

Glen/da at their core is a child who’s extremely naive and manages to show everyone kindness despite the abuse they suffered at the hands of psyches. To me they can do no wrong. It is unfortunate how Don wrote everything off. I’m not a fan of how they used trauma responses throughout the movie to get laughs (eye twitching, urinating themselves, etc). I feel like Don could’ve been more respectful towards this topic overall but I’m also not shocked at how it was handled.

It’s hard to know exactly what else psyches did to Glen/da. We know they were kept in a cage, ridiculed for their appearance, and threatened when they didn’t act the way he wanted them to. He wanted them to be violent (to tap into their killer instincts) or else he’d “fire them”. It’s a wonder that Glen/da was able to develop a sense of what’s right and wrong. Psyches definitely only sees Glen/da as a tool he can use to make money. Their opinions and feelings aren’t any concern to psyches. I’ve never noticed that their lips shake slightly when they speak. It makes sense though. This is probably the first time they’ve been able to say how they truly feel. I enjoyed the fight with Chucky at the end of the movie (I’m not exactly the biggest fan as to how the karate scenes looked though) but I like the exchange of Chucky praising Glen/da for killing him. I think this is the first time Glen/da is in their right state of mind killing someone knowingly. You're right that that’s the first time they’ve ever cried. It is weird but Glen/da seems to be the type of person to let negative emotions build up until it bursts. They rarely yell or get mad. They get scared but they always seem to bounce back too fast. I also think they’ve just accepted how people see them. They know they aren’t normal and call themself a freak. Psyches definitely said their parents left them ( however it is hard to know how much psyches is aware of but he does state he found them in a cemetery in the states). He throughout their childhood drove home the point to Glen/da that they’re alone, that they're an abomination, and that they're supposed to be evil. The violence is bad line stems from what Glen/da has seen on tv. It’s safe to assume their sense of what’s right or wrong developed off of what they’ve seen on tv. However it’s also kinda obvious Glen/da is morally gray (their also six though). It’s best describe in the way they express killing is wrong but don’t see the harm in transferring their soul into another body (I feel like I should note the human bodies the twins have are their half siblings). The whole scenario with Glenda is interesting. At the time the movie came out it was implied that Glen and Glenda were two souls sharing the doll body. That Glenda was the more violent one and wasn’t able to control the body much (think Nica and Chucky). Since then Don has stated that Glen and Glenda are the same person (same soul). Rewatching that scene now is sad. Glenda was Glen/da going through a mental break. I'm not sure if you’ve noticed but in that scene after they kill Joan Glenda quotes something psyches has said to them (I just fired Joan). You're right about the eyes when Tiff raises their hand. It could be because they know they're about to be slapped or maybe they thought she was gonna comfort them. They do seem to find more comfort from Tiff rather than Chucky.

It’s okay I don’t mind when posts are long. It just means I can write a lot 😊. I will be posting more headcanons and stuff soon. I just have to finish writing a few of them. I’m gonna try to post one later today or tomorrow. Thank you for sending something I enjoyed reading it. I also hope you have a good day.

#chucky syfy #chucky tv series #chucky tv show #glen ray #glenda ray #chucky #seed of chucky #chucky series #chucky season 2 #tiffany valentine #glenda valentine #glenda ray tilly #glen ray tilly #glen valentine #glen tilly #glenda tilly #glen/da #glen and glenda #gg ray tilly #chucky headcanons #chucky season two #chucky show #nica chucky

[hydnes]

have any of you also watched "fire in the sky" because while that movie was mostly kind of boring i really fucking hated that one scene so, so, so much. that one scene was fucking insane. i did not like "signs" very much, while i'm talking about alien movies. "the mcpherson tape" i did like though even if it didn't scare me

aliens are just kind of funny honestly none of them inherently gets to me and it's more like the medical invasive body horror claustrophobia aspects that frightens me and really bothers me

#txt

[vinjaryou]

XYZ

The Sexy ABCs Meme

also holy shit I am so sorry it took me THIS LONG to answer! ;; I'm sticking the answers under a cut to save your dash, and I hope you enjoy them~ ♥

X is for X-rated: Do they watch any X-rated movies (porn)? Together or alone? Do they have a favorite type? Do they try to reenact them afterwards?

Watching X-rated movies is something they indulge in on occasion, though they're also up to reading some kinky novellas, too. The first time they watched porn together, it was an (aptly enough) vampiric-themed movie that Reilena had gotten as a gag gift from Tifa. They'd thought it was just going to be silly, but it turned out to be pretty damned hot, hit upon more than a few of their kinks... and they did end up reenacting their favorite parts later that night ♥ (and still do every so often, as oops, the vampire roleplay is kinda fun).

As such, they're more for the fantasy-themed movies, and though they do have some BDSM kinks, they’re not too keen on non-con, and will usually skip over those scenes or movies altogether, or at least make sure they’re comfortable with it before watching; consent is sexy, and when the word’s said, it stops. But costumes, exhibitionism, growls, and biting and scratching in there? Yes please, especially when it gives them some new ideas for the bedroom~

Watching alone can be fun, too – there’s been a couple occasions where Tifa’s popped into Reilena’s apartment by surprise, only to catch her best friend abruptly switching the channel with a red face and a blanket yanked over her. Not that those two haven’t watched a movie or two together, as they did when they dated, and even now during girls’ nights in will pick out a ridiculously-titled film, crack open a bottle or two, and turn it into a drinking game while teasing the other about whether or not they’d try what’s onscreen with their respective partners.

On the flip side, Vincent’s only been walked in on once so far (in this lifetime) while indulging. His “oops” moment was when he was staying at Cid and Shera’s for a weekend, with Cid walking in to ask if Vincent would join him outside for a smoke break. A strangled, startled “!”, a glance at the screen, and Cid held his hands up and said “I’ll give ya a sec, Vince uh… catch ya out back?” though not without a little smirk, ‘cause the cape was definitely not over his shoulders at that time.

And sometimes alone doesn’t necessarily mean alone, as the private chat they have on their phones can attest to~

Y is for Yucky: Is there something they find particular disgusting or unpleasant in regards to sex? Something they’d absolutely refuse to do, even if the other really wanted it?  Have they already denied the other some kinks because of this?

They're good at discussing boundaries and kinks, and have introduced one another to their own (Vincent turned Reilena onto shibari and bondage for example – and then proceeded to accidentally break a couple pairs of handcuffs because he really really really needed her, oops~), so when they come across something that might squick or freak the other/both of them out, it's talked over. Even if one seems entirely into it, the absolute second it looks like something’s not right, it stops. This came into play quite a bit when Vincent introduced Reilena to constraint kinks, as the last thing he wanted was to accidentally trigger her claustrophobia; constant reassurances were given, and it was taken as slowly as needed, with him giving her full rein on everything while talking her through it.

Which means yes, there have been times when they're making out and deep into foreplay, a question is asked, and they'll slow down (as much as possible) to make sure they're on the same level before continuing. Mussed hair, heavy breathing, clothes undone and rumpled (if not off entirely), and then a soft "are you okay with this?" This also comes up if he's gone semi-monstery, because he knows he can get very rough when that happens (and again with the possible claustrophobia due to wings enfolding them post-climax if he’s more Chaotic), and though she always reassures him that she's okay, he will always make absolutely sure.

Debasing/degrading talk is one that they won't do; dirty talk is all well and good, but there's that line that neither of them will cross. Bodily fluids need to be specified - bloodplay is very good (hello vampiric tendencies and biting/scratching), they both enjoy going down on one another and indulging in their tastes, but cum play is eeehhhh (heat of the moment has happened at times, but it's not a regular thing; this doesn't count licking them off of fingers though, as that is a yes good very good and a surefire way to get them even more riled up), and a hard no on anything that's supposed to go in the toilet, to put it nicely.

Z is for Zones: What are their most erogenous zones?  Does their partner know all of them?  Do they make sure to stimulate each other in said zones?

For her: the inside of her thighs is a very big one, especially the left, and he likes to take advantage of this by running his claws along her leg to get her flustered when they're sitting together in public; in the bedroom, he'll bite it just deep enough to draw blood, and let the blood run down her leg before licking it up and kissing the bitemark.

Caressing and running nails/claws across her hips and along the small of her back will get her warm and flustered in a hurry, moreso if he decides to take his time and lazily run his claws up her spine. Doing that while nuzzling the hollow of her throat? She will cling to him and beg him for more. Breasts feel almost like a given, but she can't help it, especially when he toys with her nipples until they're erect and almost aching; she has a tendency to really pull at his hair when he plays with her like this.

And for a more subtle one, the inside of her arms - running his nails/claws along her arm, up until their fingers link together and he squeezes their hands/presses them against whatever surface they're against. Soft, tender, and sensual, it's one he likes to do when they're in public, and will usually nuzzle/kiss a warmed cheek afterward with a murmured little tease.

For him: his neck - for a specific spot, the back of his neck - is one, and she will play this up as much as possible, as she'll run her nails down his neck while they're making out to get him to shiver. As such, she'll surprise him at times in public by brushing his hair over his shoulder to press a kiss against the back of his neck before whispering in his ear and slipping her arms around him, if not sneaking in a little nuzzle and kiss against the side of it as well. Nibbling, biting, and suckling at it is also a surefire way to get a nice, throaty groan from him.

His chest is a big one (haha), more now that he’s more comfortable with baring his torso. Feeling her hair against his skin while she’s kissing and licking her way down, giving special attentions to his scars (the once-fatal mark is a major one, which was a surprise to him as well, as he never thought it would turn him on so much until that night when he first revealed his torso scarring to her) will get him hot and ready to go in seconds, and when she moves down to nuzzle the happy trail of soft black hair from his navel down~? That’ll get some quality whimpering growls in an instant, as well as some claws or fingers tangled in her hair as he trembles.

He also just really likes his scars being kissed, caressed, and tended to. Considering the insecurities he’s harbored with them, and how many traumatic memories they still keep, feeling her touching and kissing them is at once a major turn-on and a tender reassurance. The torso ones were already mentioned, but the scars around his shoulder blades – marks where the wings of Chaos still burst out every so often – and the faded ones on his forehead – courtesy of Galian’s horns – are also ones that will get him warmed up while also feeling reassured and loved whenever she nuzzles or kisses them.

(and then I finished writing all this and thought "whoops, these are probably better for turn-ons," eep)

#steeleidolon #thanks for the ask! #t h e m #vinrei #look i love them a very normal amount #thank you so much for asking and if you want to ask more go for it! #it won't take me over a month to answer i promise fffffffffff

[sumire-bride]

I really recommend you read all the Dark Fate routes, it's the best game in the saga by far and has the perfect amount of angst and romance, (plus Yui is a great MC in all the routes). By the way, how is Sumire's relationship with Karlheinz and Richter? Does Richter want her for himself as well? 💀💀💀

𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷

(( I do plan to! I'm just currently in the mist of MB atm :p (NO CUZ SHUU'S ROUTE MADE ME WANT TO PEEL MY FACE OFF, I can't stop thinking bout that god damn flower shop boy😞) Reiji deadass though, I want to smack him. SMACK HIM, I'm really just excited to get to the Mukami's routes. But I am very excited to get to DF! AGAIN WATCH ME RANT OFF- ))

(( Richter... Richter.. Richter. Defo didn't like him until @fruit-of-infidelity @sakamaki-richter had me OBSESSED with that man now with all that Richter content HOW DARE YOU??🙄🖐Jkjkjk BUT, Richter doesn't want Sumire herself just wants her to awaken as Cordelia ))

(( I think for those that read this fanfic Richter came off rather.. Cold?? Weird??? Like for the most part in HDB he's like "Cordelia" "Cordelia..." CORDELIA" He is quite touchy with her a bit too touchy with her, very sad man bro, in dark fate I'm aware he kinda becomes a bit.. Delusional, trying to kill s boys Karl thinking Yui is Cordelia yada yada ))

(( HOWEVER, Richter already kinda gets Sumire and Cordelia mixed up all the time anyway but in DF it gets worse where it.is.all.the.time (I mean she's already compared physically wise to Cordelia but whatever-) LIKE BRO GIVES HER IDENITY ISSUES 😭 and legit she screeches when she see's him. Because again Sumire is HIGHLY claustrophobic and him touching her has her feeling nasty. ))

(( Richter is normally like "you should feel lucky you were gifted such a heart", insults her a little bit to- ACTUALLY the two in DF fight with each other, like she sucker punches this man and they both have a little brawl with each other (I'm actually gonna admit this scene is very funny dare I say peek comedy) ))

(( All I gotta say is.. He gives her bad identity issues and defo doesn't help with her claustrophobia and some other minor things- ))

(( As for Karl, they don't meet till AT LEAST FOR SUMIRE'S MEMORIES till MB in dream states they kinda have conversations and such about "Adam and Eve" and some other crap ))

(( Idk really know how to explain their relationship very well tbh☠️ They meet and talk through dreams, and I think I mentioned this in Sumire's bio that she's haunted by Cordelia's ghost/memories (reliving her death in a dream to). So Sumire does talk to him (as Cordelia) in dreams, she has this feeling she already knows him from somewhere but can't put her togue on it ))

(( She views him as cruel, demon that has a angle appearance, back on that instinct thing, she feels the very strong urge to to kill him but protect him at the same time. ))

𖧷ɤ———ɤ𖧷

#diabolik oc #sumire #sumire-bride #richter #richter sakamaki #karlheinz sakamaki #karlheinz #anon #anonomous #ask #(( KARL AND SUMIRE ARE TOO MUCH FOR ME TO WRITE BUT LIKE.. )) #(( IDK HOW TO WRITE THEM DOWN IM SORRY :( )) #(( did my best 💪 ))

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: The Invention of Hugo Cabret

Author: John Le Carré

Rating: 5/5 stars

Very Good, but not great

I found this book really interesting, though I couldn't put a finger on why. It's a story about people who are very smart and successful at what they do, but who struggle with their own humanity and self-perception, a struggle that is not always visible to the outsider -- for them, there can be no doubt that they are "smart and successful and human." In the first chapter, we're given the first hints that perhaps the world they have built is not all it seems: one character has a history of "disappearing," and he is later revealed to have been a police officer in the 19th century who got caught spying on a political rival, the other is a world-renowned violinist. In other words, people who have built a great success, a great machine, a "machine" that seems to transcend human feeling, do not necessarily have the kind of feelings that make them good at doing what they do, that make them "smart" or "successful."

I don't think this was ever really established in the book, but that makes me suspect it's a bit too simple an idea. The story takes place over the course of four days, and at the end of each day one of the characters explains the logic behind what he has done, and why he did it. In essence, this is just a narrative version of the "how-pioneers-invented-machines" genre, right? But the main difference -- the main reason I liked this book so much -- is that these characters seem to be flawed. "They have built this machine, and they seem to use it, and we must assume they would not have been so successful if they weren't good at it," but we get the sense that these characters are flawed in ways that may not show up in their work, or in their personal lives. (The guy who spies on his rival is also a spy, and his wife has doubts about his "success" even though he says she "never seems to think of him at all.") I thought this was a good and subtle choice, and it definitely made the book feel more real, more "adult" than the genre would otherwise be, but I wouldn't want to overstate the effect.

The characters have very little time to interact with each other: the events of the book all take place over the course of four days, separated by very brief "rest periods." A number of scenes take place inside the automaton showroom, which is only visible from inside the automaton room. This does a very good job of creating a sense of claustrophobia, which works on two levels. First, there is a claustrophobia of "space," the sense that "the world is very large, and the automaton showroom is merely the size of a room in that world, and is thus not a "big deal." But there's also a claustrophobia of the human mind, the fact that these people will never see the automaton showroom in any other form than the one they built for themselves, that in the end there really isn't any way to make a machine that you're "good at" and "good with" and that "you would have built if you weren't being coerced by this other force in your life." That part of the world is so far away that we're allowed to imagine that our protagonist might be the only person who truly understands it -- he's a genius mechanic, after all. He can't possibly understand the emotions of his wife and of the people he hired to do his job.

The book does its best to make this world interesting, to make it feel real even though it is so constrained by time. For one thing, the four days are given very clear temporal structures: there is an official "workday" inside the showroom, which we're supposed to think of as the same from morning to evening, but at night they all take a break. But it also becomes very funny, because everyone is supposed to know what the showroom does, and how it works, but the characters themselves have no idea. After a very long period of work in the showroom on day one, it becomes clear that the machines cannot actually perform the "miracles" they make people think they can; the real trick is all in the show.

Another reason this book stuck with me: it really conveys the sense of the "invention" of the automaton. "How can you be so smart and yet still not understand?" the characters cry, over and over again. But the question isn't about how smart the characters are: the question is about their own self-perception, their own worldview, the view they get from inside their own bubble. What they "don't see" is not a problem about machine design, but about the people whose lives have been transformed by their machines, or about the way they themselves have changed, or about their own sense of self and self-worth. The sense that things are not "supposed" to be as they seem in this world can make a world-weary reader sympathize with people who seem naive and/or confused in their own lives -- if these people can't tell something is "wrong," then what chance have I got? This isn't necessarily a message most novels are all about. But it's definitely one that comes up a lot in Le Carré's other fiction.

[spontaneous-human-combustion]

Darkness Falls

1.24.24

Merits:

Writing:

This episode is basically Ice in the forest, to me. Not necessarily in a bad way. They're stranded with an unknown biological entity among them, tensions are high, Scully distrusts Mulder for a second, and at the end the government destroys evidence. I've gotta say, the ending is extremely weak. It's supposed to be an Oh Shit type moment, but I just don't think it works.

What this episode does just fine is keep things fairly simple: the secondary characters have one or two defining traits and don't really deviate from them; the monster isn't too complicated; the plot is easy to follow. It's all pretty self-contained and doesn't try anything too grand. Until the ending, pulling in a random government conspiracy, but y'know. It's Chris Carter. I'll give it an 8.

Characterization/development:

Mulder assumes the best of the "eco-terrorist" Doug against everyone else's warnings. Once again, an example of how he paints himself as a paranoid cynic, but he's actually a very warm-hearted and generous person to underdogs and people otherwise misjudged by society.

Scully as usual wants a rational, scientific approach, and for once she kind of gets it. A rare/extinct species of bug is not implausible, even if it is extreme. What gets her is when she thinks she has them figured out, but then they do something unexpected -- they're on her body even in the light! I would not be happy either. Solid 8.

Emotion:

As a monster-of-the-week episode, this one doesn't really pull on any heartstrings. There's not a strong feeling of joy, sympathy, fear, anger, or any of those really powerful emotions. I felt bad for Mulder getting dunked on; I sympathized with Scully's little freakout moment; the remaining time, though, I was kinda like "huh. Wonder what'll happen next." 3.

Antagonist/monster:

I like the little green bugs. They're just doin' their thang. Like I said, this is literally just the parasite in Ice, but in a forest -- it's old as balls and it's going to kill you. Nevertheless, I thought the story behind them was kinda cool. Trapped in a tree ring (not in an ice core, make sure we get that straight), dormant for eons, then released upon a populated world. They're hungy!!!! 10.

On set:

One of those episodes where filming in Vancouver actually works. Apparently, though, the weather was so bad and the location was so remote that everyone was pissy the whole shoot, and the director (Joe Napolitano) never came back for another episode. Oof.

Effects-wise, most notable are the bugs themselves, which are very obviously CGI. Shots where they're superimposed over the actors, diligently pretending to fight them off, don't always work. I'm also still not 100% sure how those little guys are supposed to get an adult male up a tree... the cocoon does look really cool, though!

Scenes in the forest and the cabin, on the other hand, are gorgeous. Outdoor scenes are allowed to breathe, with just the location itself doing most of the work, while in the tight quarters of the cabin, moody high-contrast lighting and creative angles give a sense of claustrophobia.

Of course, I can't go without mentioning Scully's adorable windbreaker in the iconic 90s jewel tones. Instead of blow-drying her hair into the pageboy perfection we see in most episodes, she's wearing a messy ponytail and letting her curls go crazy. 7 overall.

Music:

I'll be completely for real. I didn't pay any attention to the music. It was probably just fine though. 5 to cover my ass.

Demerits:

Boringness: It held my attention :)

CCWFL (Chris Carter Wankfest Level): He can't resist the mysterious government agents covering up evidence, can he. 2 because it's not that bad.

Bonus points:

Scully's coat gets an automatic extra point.

Hell, another point for cute bugs and big trees.

Merits: 41

Bonus: 2

Demerits: 2

Episode total: 41/60

Favorites:

"Come on Scully, it'll be a nice trip to the forest."

I like the moment between Mulder and Scully when she gets a little upset with him for letting Doug take their vehicle and fuel can, but after his rebuttal they both agree that arguing won't accomplish anything -- they need to focus on surviving. He acknowledges he made a mistake, and she doesn't rub it in, and they keep working together.

"Take a good look, Scully. Rugged, manly men in the full bloom of their manhood." "Right, but what am I looking for?" "Anything strange, unexplainable, unlikely...a boyfriend?" Is that a dis, Mulder? lol

"That's a lot of flannel to be choking down, even for Bigfoot."

Scully being hoisted up into the tree and then her little look of disgust when she sees the hand sticking out....lmao

"It's a male." "Barely."

"Oh, a brain-sucking amoeba."

#1.20

[project1939]

Day 36- Film: Clash by Night 

Release date: June 16th, 1952. 

Studio: RKO 

Genre: Drama/noir 

Director: Fritz Lang 

Producer: Jerry Wald, Norman Krasna, Harriet Parsons 

Actors: Barbara Stanwyck, Paul Douglas, Robert Ryan, Marilyn Monroe 

Plot Summary: Mae Doyle returns home after 10 years when an illicit romance breaks up. No young woman anymore, she is now bitter and reclusive. When she and childhood friend Jerry begin dating, Mae tries to break it off, saying she would never be a good wife to him. Eventually she gives in and marries him, hoping that she can feel secure and learn to love him. It doesn’t take long for her to tire of his simple pragmatic ways, however. Jerry’s best friend Earl, meanwhile, falls desperately in love/lust with her. Will the temptation be too great to resist? 

My Rating (out of five stars): ***½ 

Damn, until about the last 10 minutes, I was going to give this 4 stars- even though I hated almost all of the characters! The ending nearly completely ruined it, though. Until then it was an unusually cynical and bleak movie for Hollywood in the early 1950s. It seemed obvious that it was an adaptation of a play, which it was, and it seemed obvious that the original ending was changed, which it was. I really struggle to even understand why this was adapted for the screen if a “happy” ending had to be tagged on to it. It completely compromises the entire thing. 

The Good: 

Barbara Stanwyck was impressive. She is definitely of the old school acting style, before the more naturalistic style we’re used to today became prevalent. Even so, I thought her performance was very effective. And my god, she played bitter and jaded well here! She gave me chills sometimes. 

Paul Douglas was also wonderful. A Letter to Three Wives is one of my favorite films, and I fell in love with him in that. He plays earnest everyman characters so well, and he’s always so likeable. His character in this is a bit weak and gullible, but also a genuinely good person. 

The main love triangle in this is between people who are all in their 40s! That is exceedingly rare for a Hollywood film even today. I loved the way that added a different layer of maturity and complexity. 

A lot of dialogue was really good, again, so no surprise that it came from a play. I usually try to jot down interesting quotes while I watch a movie, and there were so many, I kept having to pause this to get things written down. 

The cynicism and darkness were pervasive and engulfing. There was a kind of claustrophobia in all three of the main characters' lives, and it really made you feel trapped in a kind of hell with them. 

I hated so many of the characters, but they were real and made the despair of the story intense. Earl repulsed me on a physical level- I could barely stand to watch him. Mae was not a good person either. Jerry had a mooching uncle that I could barely stand. Even Jerry himself, generally being a good guy, was a bit annoying in how much he tolerated being around these terrible people. 

The Bad: 

The ending! The ending! I don’t know if I could ever tire of ranting about how stupid the ending was. Spoiler ahead: When Mae suddenly decided out of nowhere that she should go back to Jerry, it was ridiculous and totally out of character. When Jerry takes her back, I even said out loud, “Well, this will probably last a week!” Nothing about the film made sense with this kind of ending. 

Hating so many characters was a plus and a minus. The minus was that it made the movie hard to sit though at times. I could care less what happened to Earl or Uncle Vince or even Mae. 

If I didn’t hate Earl enough, he had a whole repeating segment about doing his “Chinese impression,” where he pulled at his eyes and made strange noises that sounded nothing like Chinese. I am SO SICK of these scenes in movies, radio, and tv shows! I hope they get less frequent as the project goes on, because I’m barely more than 1/3 finished. 

#project1952 #1952 #project1952 day 36 #100 films of 1952 #barbara stanwyck

[thezolblade]

Ooh at the end of your "Jon treating Georgie differently than Martin" post, you mention that Jon wouldn't want to think of himself as someone who would be into Martin? Can I ask why? What is "someone like Martin" to Jon? And the end, he also wouldn't want to announce to the world they're in a relationship, is he ashamed of Martin in the general sense, would he want to hide it from everyone? Or is it more about how he used to badmouth him, he's fine with appearing as a couple in public, but he'd prefer not to tell Tim or Sasha, who've heard him berate Martin.

(And if he is ashamed of Martin, how would Martin take it? That seems like a very clear line to draw, I wonder if Jon would even defend himself if that were the case...)

Thank you so much for feeding us with your answers, they're SO GOOD!!!!!

Well, that was answering why Jon had been far more harsh with Martin before & during their get together than he ever had been with Georgie. And up until that point, he'd spent quite a while complaining about Martin being useless, dense, always the one to make mistakes and slow things down, etc. His opinion had been shifting for a while, but he'd still been venting about minor irritations more often than he knew he should have, even after he'd started to feel more protective.

(The time Martin handed in a nonsense Latin translation was the reason he didn't believe he could really speak Polish. Martin refused to investigate the Lost Jon's Cave statement because of claustrophobia, and took frequent breaks for fresh air while researching at least one flesh statement where the crime scene photos were gory. Any time Jon asked Tim or Sasha to double check things, that slowed the team down, even if they didn't find out anything more than Martin had.

And to extrapolate beyond the canon points of irritation... We only hear the true statements, but 90% of the ones they work on are fake. Academics from other organisations often give joke statements as a prank, and they probably reference a lot of classical lit, folklore, etc, from their area of study. Jon, Sasha and Tim spent years in Research, discrediting those kinds of fake statements, and they're university educated, so they'd get most of the references, and start to think of them as really obvious once they've seen them again and again. Martin wouldn't have had that experience, coming from the library, so it'd take him longer to discredit a story that the others would have recognised instantly as yet another rip-off of a myth that they think everyone knows. Academics often overestimate how much of their field of specialty is common knowledge.

Since Martin didn't live up to Jon's expectations of an expert with a relevant Master's degree and about ten years of experience at the Institute, Jon concluded that Martin must've coasted through university without taking much in, gotten a degree he didn't deserve, and slacked off in an easy job for years instead of keeping up to date with their field, because he was too lazy to make an effort. Meanwhile, Jon was working overtime, doing extra reading, and pushing for due diligence. He really didn't think he'd end up head over heels for someone who didn't share his professional interests or his drive to succeed. He realised he'd misjudged him once he started seeing things through his eyes, though he still couldn't figure him out completely.)

So, when Jon realised that he'd fallen for Martin, and it might or might not be mutual, he was reluctant to take a next step like 'get chatting at the water cooler tomorrow, and ask him out for drinks, in front of everyone else'. Worst case scenario, he'd lose the image he was trying to build, of being an aloof and respectable authority, because everyone who already gossiped about him behind his back would see him get rejected by an (apparently) older colleague, and then he couldn't get away with treating him like a liability of an assistant anymore, once everyone knew that he was the one with a crush and Martin was the one who thought he could do better...

Instead, he confronted him in private in the most stressy, domineering way he could have managed without more actual malice involved. Once they'd slept together, Jon's priorities shifted and he was mostly concerned with getting to do that again and go even further.

So he'll tell anyone who asks that they're together, but try to spare his own pride by positioning himself as the dominant partner with an adoring assistant. (He'd probably say 'lover' instead of 'boyfriend'.) Sure, Martin can be a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but Jon can train him and look after him, and that doesn't bring him down to the same level, as if they were the sort of couple who admired each other equally. Maybe some people would judge him for fucking his assistant, but it's not as if that's unheard of in academia, and he was never trying to be universally liked anyway, since that's always been out of reach. Maybe there are moments when he feels like Martin's embarrassing him, and that does cause friction, but even if he snaps about it, they're still not arguing as much as they used to. And Martin doesn't like the times when he's underestimated or belittled, but he has to be strategic about what he says even at the best of times.

(If things go well, Jon will gradually recognise more of Martin's strengths, bringing them closer to the kind of equal-ish footing that they tried to maintain in late canon. It's not an easy route there, in any universe.)

#heart of the disaster #tma thoughts #rozzlynn's fanfic

[blainesebastian]

I posted 2,141 times in 2022

398 posts created (19%)

1,743 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@karamelcoveredolicity

@austinbutlerr

@troubleinapinksuit

@unearthlydust

@thesoldiersminute

I tagged 2,141 of my posts in 2022

#austin butler - 344 posts

#q and a - 313 posts

#elvis 2022 - 286 posts

#mccall writes things - 161 posts

#austin butler x reader - 147 posts

#wanda maximoff - 114 posts

#sons of anarchy - 86 posts

#jax teller - 70 posts

#peaky blinders - 64 posts

#shannara chronicles - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#romantic but its something. they respect each other which is why tommy is so livid when he realises alfie betrayed him!!!! amazing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

lookin’ for trouble

words: 1,662 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (request by @stylesmendeshearted)  You’re an extra on the Elvis set during the Trouble performance 🥵 being the girl whose face he grabs  notes:  once again, masterlist posted here! it’s officially linked on my sidebar :)  warnings: steamy thots but SFW  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell (if you would like to be added to a general taglist for my austin x reader fics, please let me know!) 

A mix of organized chaos.

That’s what Baz reminds you of as you watch him circle back and forth on the stage that Austin is standing on as everyone prepares themselves to shoot the Trouble performance scene. As an extra, you don’t have many responsibilities except facial expressions…which honestly shouldn’t be too difficult given Austin’s sheer talent as Elvis. The way he moves his body and delivers his lines is just…art, there’s no other word for it. He completely gives himself over to performing and it’s hard not to get caught right up in it.

Anything going on with your face is completely genuine.

You know the general layout for the scene, feeling a bit cramped as you stand right up against the stage, several other extras behind you. Once the music begins and Austin starts performing, the crowd gets more and more rowdy, pushing you right into the stage edge. It’s not comfortable and kind of eats away at your claustrophobia but there’s a purpose here to almost throw yourself over the divide, to try and get closer and closer to Austin as he becomes more lewd in his movements.

Curling your hair around your ear, you wait patiently as Baz gives feedback to Austin about his last performance and then finally gives some direction about what he can do with the extras. The thing about Austin is that he definitely listens, takes notes, but when he’s fully into performing? There’s not too much of a script he follows. He keys in on Presley movements but he also adlibs according to the crowd’s reactions.

It's so incredible to see up close.

You’ve spoken with him a few offhanded times while participating in some scenes and Austin has always been extremely generous with his time. He doesn’t have to talk with any of the extras if he doesn’t want to—and yet he always does. He goes beyond just scene conversations—he asks names, how they’re doing, where they’re from, so on and so forth. It makes it really easy to work with him, even though you’re not as upper level as a co-star.

Austin stands in front of the mic, working his shoulders back a little and loosening his body movements. There are a few moments where he sways back and forth with his hips, humming a few of the lines he’s eventually going to sing. While others prepare for the shot, he skims the crowd before his eyes fall on you.

Your heart plummets straight into your belly because your gazes definitely connect, a small smile tugging the corners of your mouth. The way he’s dressed reaches straight into your chest and squeezes, a heated ache so easily between your legs that it’s hard to shake. He’s made for this role, that very much is certain. The black suit adds a darkness to his blue eyes, like the deep ocean, charcoal makeup gently sitting underneath. His socks match his cherry red tie, a pop of color that somehow comes directly for your throat and—suddenly he’s moving, crouching down in front of you.

“Y/N, right?”

He remembers your name and you nod, taking a step closer as you put your hand on the stage, “Yeah, hi.”

“Hey,” Some strands of his hair hang loose over his forehead, “I know Baz has talked to all the extras about performances bein’ unplanned but uh, I was wonderin’ if it was alright if I touched you—maybe clasped at your face. I just didn’t want you to be surprised—”

“No, that’s fine.” You answer quickly, far too quickly, your cheeks kissing pink at the realization.

He smiles slowly, amusement swimming in his blue eyes as he takes you in. There’s a definite moment where his gaze finds your lips and that seems wildly unfair.

You clear your throat, shaking your head. “I mean—whatever you need to do, that’s fine. I get it—bein’ in the moment and everything.”

“Okay,” He laughs lightly, “Good.” Austin turns his attention towards someone saying his name and gets up from his position on the stage.

You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally kick yourself at sounding so utterly ridiculous. Honestly, it’s nice that he even asked—he didn’t have to. When you were hired for this thing you went through all the hoops with Baz that Austin often performed by reacting to the audience. That made some of his movements unscripted.

But now there’s this ridiculous anticipation heated like fire in your belly as the set quiets, getting ready to call action. Which, this has to be exactly on brand with what the scene calls for, seeing Elvis walk onto stage, wondering what version of himself he’s going to be. That eagerness about how you’re not quite sure what you’re about to see, but you already know it’s going to be amazing.

And Austin nothing short of delivers.

A sharp breath leaves your body as the music plays back, a hearty thump of sound—

“If you’re lookin’ for trouble—you came to the right place.”

The crowd’s reactions are a slow boil, like a covered tea kettle in which pressure and heat builds and builds until it begins to whistle. Watching Austin on stage move his body to the music as he sings has got to be one of the easiest things to react to. There’s a fluidity to his body, like the rhythm and lyrics move through him while he performs. It’s addictive, hard to tear your eyes away, attempting to absorb absolutely every part. Not to mention that your body is reacting to his, hips slowly swiveling to the beat, heart hammering in your ears, palms sweating.

It's almost hard to remember that your reaction to him shouldn’t be internalized, even though it’s hard not to feel completely overwhelmed in this environment. You let out a short breath, taking a step forward and beginning to work past the guards creating a barrier, reaching out, knowing he’s only going to get closer.

“But if you’re gonna start a rumble, don’t you try it out alone!”

You audibly gasp even though you’re in good company around you in terms of sound, one hand resting on your chest while the other covers your mouth. As much as you’ve seen Austin perform, nothing prepares you for when he rocks back on the toes of his feet and lands directly on his knees, along the edge of the stage, slowly thrusting his hips forward as he sings the line,

“Because I’m evil.”

Your eyes widen automatically and you’re suddenly very glad that the background noise is so loud that no one hears the very obvious moan leaving your lips. Your gaze travels from his legs to his torso, right up to his face and he’s staring at you. Your hand falls from your mouth; Austin is not at all gentle as he leans forward and grabs at your chin, holding you close and in place as he sings the next line,

“My middle name is misery.”

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596 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#4

coffee cart girl (pt2)

words: 3,588 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: wow, I did not expect such a warm response! thank you so much :) part 1 is here. if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, please let me know!  warnings: none tag list: @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce,

It’s been a few days since the whole coffee debacle and time continues on—coffee orders are taken, delivered and not spilled down the front of your shirt. Granted, you suppose that idea wouldn’t be too terrible given what you got out of it the last time. Though you’re not about to make a fool out of yourself, showing up to Austin’s trailer, asking to borrow another t-shirt. That’d totally be…ridiculous.

Okay, so the thought had crossed your mind only once, so what? You’re human.

“And ridiculous.” You emphasize to yourself as you check the orders and fill.

Sometimes it can be a mind-numbing process, coffee filling, and you’re really glad they can’t get too fancy on set. It’s just cream and sugar—no espressos, no lattes, no iced options. When it’s a Starbucks run? That gets a little hectic; can even take multiple trips. You chew on the inside of your cheek as your eyes run over the list…searching for one name in particular,

Butler – black, cream

Totally not playing favorites, or anything, you make that order next and take one tray off to make stops before filling the rest. You hum an Elvis song softly to yourself, habit of the job you’ve noticed, kinda difficult not to when you’re around it all day. Today it’s a mix of That’s Alright Mama and I’m Coming Home which makes no sense, and yet the tunes blend seamlessly together as you make turns around trailers and find the people you need to give coffee orders to.

You’re trying your best not to think about Austin, about him bringing you that coffee and talking to you about your script, about things that you got no business thinking about. But your mind wanders and, especially with all the buzz around set around how well Austin is playing Elvis, you kinda can’t help it either. His voice slips around your skin as you recall him asking about your writing, about whether you show it to anyone, making the hair on your arms stand up. While the Elvis outfits, especially the fits from the fifties, kinda squeeze your insides, you find yourself preferring when he comes to set—simple looks, the jeans, the t-shirt, the black jean jacket or the sherpa lined blue one.

You’ve never seen him without the black hair, but know he’s naturally a brunette, wisps of blonde. You wonder what it’s like to see him like that, how bright his eyes can be, what it might look like to notice him when the attention isn’t all over him.

You shake your head as you drop off a coffee in the makeup department before making your way to his trailer. Foolish—a handful of interactions does not make you special, nor important. Besides, you can’t let thoughts like this get in the way of what you’re here to do. Deliver coffee, obviously, but script work? Exposure? Elvis won’t be filming forever and it’s not guaranteed you’ll get picked up for another set job.

You carefully make your way up the steps, just in case, and knock. Taking a slow breath, you pause, listening to make sure before you open the door. Empty—just as it’s been the last few days you delivered coffee runs.

Disappointment crackles in your belly, spreading up to your ribcage as you make your way inside and set the coffee down on a small table in front of a couch. His jean jacket is there, whiffs of sandalwood in the trailer as you move to leave, mixed with something else that’s distinctly Austin.

Your stomach flutters and you quickly head out of there, closing the door behind you. You got work to do.

--

You’re fairly sure they’re working on the Trouble scene—you can hear the echoes of strong guitar strums, Austin’s voice ringing in the air and sending shivers down your spine. You wonder what it’s like being an extra in any of these concert scenes, what it’d be like to see Austin in full garb, pulling off Elvis moves and vocals. It’s impressive, would probably melt your right through the floor. You can only imagine.

Not to mention an extra salary wouldn’t hurt. Then again, doesn’t really open you up for what you should be doing—you pour over your script, flipping through pages, a headache pinching its way to your temples. This thing might never make any fucking sense. Some of the extras speak directly to Baz, at least the ones up front with Austin. You wonder…

“Y/N!”

You wince, turning to look towards Sal as she approaches the picnic table you’re at. One moment of silence for the great afternoon you were having—you already know it’s about to get ruined.

“Did you not get the afternoon orders started?”

You blink, glancing at the time. “I don’t start my rounds until three.” It’s two-fifty.

Sal narrows her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest in what no doubt will be a lecture. “Frank from lighting says he still hasn’t gotten his morning coffee—”

And you kinda stop listening there because that just…can’t be right. You know what that list said this morning, if only you could find the small clipboard that had all the morning runs. You must have set it down somewhere. Regardless, you know how to do your job, Frank didn’t ask for anything this morning.

“He wasn’t on my—”

“Maybe if you did a little less on attempting to crack into your big break,” She taps the script a bit aggressively, “and paid more attention to your job, we wouldn’t have angry lighting workers. Get moving.”

You work your jaw a moment—you know better than to argue, it’s not worth it, even when you know you’re right. You slide off the bench and collect your script, putting it into your bag for later, dropping it off where you keep your things. Quickly, you grab a cup and fill Frank’s order (a good memory, black with three Sweet'N Lows) and take it to set.

Seems like they’re between shoots or at least done with one scene and moving towards another because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to walk into the warehouse. Curling your hair around your ear, you see Frank working on a standing light fixture.

“Here you go Frank—” And as an apology is about to leave your mouth, he turns and practically snatches the coffee out of your hands.

“It’s about damn time, you know I’ve been waiting on this since this morning?” He snaps and you bite your tongue, hard. He definitely wasn’t on your order list this morning.

You’re almost not sure what to say; there’s nothing in it for you to argue your point, he’s going to be upset no matter what—just the kind of mood Frank seems to be in. You resist the urge to roll your eyes too and just take a breath.

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652 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#3

coffee cart girl

words: 2,424 ship: austin x female reader  summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you.  notes: just for fun, couldn’t get it out of my head warnings: none 

It’s one of those things where you can’t remember how the whole thing started. One moment you’re attempting to finish a script, get noticed, have someone other than your sister read what you’ve written to see if it actually makes sense, if it’s worth fighting for—and the next? You’re the coffee runner on studio lots, visiting trailer to trailer, getting orders and bringing them back. Celebrities, stars, directors, producers, writers, the whole world opens up to you. A friend of a friend, their aunt, got you the job—honestly you’re not overthinking it. This is your chance to make something of yourself, to put your foot in the door, to feel seen.

Except it never quite happens that way.

There’s the exact opposite effect, no one notices you. You blend into the background, become another body on a busy set, but hey—at least you can tell yourself, ‘one of these days I’ll actually show my work to someone’. Just a page, just pitch an idea. Go from there. And every day, you walk onto the same set of the movie you’re currently assisting on and do what you do best: grab coffee orders.

“Maybe this is actually my secret calling.” You grin, pushing your hair over you shoulder as you wave your ID badge to the security box entrance. They buzz you in and you wander on, seven AM, far too early for anything to be enjoyable.

Jillian, a beautiful redhead with tight curls and hazel eyes rolls them in your direction. She’s been working just as long as you have but with a very different job—hair and makeup. “Oh please Y/N, you just need to give yourself a chance. Let someone in? I’m sure you’ve got great ideas.”

You purse your lips, comfortable in a pair of black mom jeans and a white t-shirt today, simple. “How do you know? I could have some awful ideas. Hollywood’s full of ‘em.”

She snickers, “I dated an actor once, he thought he was God’s gift to film—trust me, I know a tacky personality when I meet one. And that’s not you.” She gently taps the tip of your nose, making you crinkle it, before hurrying off towards the hair and makeup trailer.

“Y/N.”

You sigh, head tipping back slightly to the sky as a resounding voice makes it to your eardrums. That’s Sal, an older woman who’s wrinkles remind you of crunched up old velvet and has a smoker voice to somehow match. She runs the show around here…quite literally other than Baz, who deals with everything that’s not the day-to-day small jobs. Sal’s job is to make sure everyone is on time, that trailers don’t need anything…that writes her paycheck.

You turn with a smile that somehow hurts your teeth, “Mornin’ Sal.”

“You gonna grab people’s coffee today or just stand there?” She asks, moving to hand over a slip, “Already did your job to grab the few orders of the people who are here already. Think you can handle the rest?”

You hum—kill her with kindness. “Absolutely, thank you.”

Your eyes run down the order list—mostly for hair and makeup, wardrobe, and then you catch a particular name towards the bottom—

Butler – black, two sugars.

Your eyebrows crinkle together before wandering towards the coffee cart. Sometimes people request Starbuck runs but it seems like today isn’t that day. Robotically, you begin filling coffee orders but the bottom name has you a bit stumped. Today is not the first day you’ve brought Austin Butler coffee and it won’t be the last, least until they’re done shooting Elvis. But you feel like you’ve got a pretty good memory when it comes to orders…and he does not do sugar. Sometimes it’s a treat with a splash of milk, but not sugar.

You make a judgement call, pouring the splash of milk and loading up the drink holder to make your rounds. Sal, ironically, is not the most detail-oriented person. This whole sugar thing has got to be wrong.

As you make your way around set to drop off coffees, you find yourself contemplating on the fact that coffee really is an all-day thing—whether it’s this early morning set call, late at night shoots or middle of the day cravings, nearly someone almost every two hours is requesting some sort of pick-me-up.

“Thanks Y/N.” One of the other makeup artist smiles at you, tipping the cup in a cheers motion and you wink back.

Two deliveries left…

Turning a corner around the trailer, you make a beeline for Austin’s, because odds are he has to be in front of a camera soon. Or at least to another trailer to get hair and makeup or wardrobe, whichever. No sooner do you walk up the steps to knock on the door, it opens, almost hitting you square in the face. Luckily—luckily? It hits your hands instead.

A sharp gasp leaves your mouth as hot coffee spills all over the front of you, but it’s not so much the noise you make in pain but moreso surprise. Your mouth opens, blinking once, twice, because—really?

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Austin says quickly, clearly rattled by the set of five shared moments. “I usually open the door a lot slower, I’m late.” He’s got that Elvis drawl—you’ve heard it a few times on set when you linger close to scenes taking place just to get a glimpse of how the written work becomes an actual picture.

Could really be you someday, your written words leaving an actor’s mouth. Not really feelin’ like today however with a very large coffee stain down your front.

“No, it’s—” You let out a soft laugh as he reaches for the coffee tray, your eyes flickering up—he’s not dressed as Elvis, not yet, hasn’t even been to hair and makeup yet because his hair is untamed, a soft black with iridescent hues hanging in a few strands over his forehead.

“I usually start the day like this, with coffee.”

He blinks, seeming to process that what you’ve said is a joke before a shy laugh tumbles out of his chest. “Right.” It’s an attractive sound, and maybe if you weren’t so flustered, you’d let yourself enjoy it. “Least lemme help you clean up or…get another coffee.”

“I think that’s my job.” You smile, but the offer is nice. Most of the time, or at least some celebrities you’ve come into contact with, kinda sweep interactions under the rug, make mistakes your problem, are too busy to even apologize. Which whatever, you’re not gonna hold that against them, you got more important things to worry about.

But the fact that Austin offers, even is willing to grab other coffees when he’s the star running late…it means something. A twisting in your stomach spreading heat like vines wrapping around a house, definitely something you’ll end up thinking about later.

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786 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#2

familiarity

words: 3,585 ship: austin butler x reader  summary: (request) readers friends are obsessed with austin and reader meets austin out and about. austin is intrigued by the reader's lack of interest and is determined to get to know you notes: first request, really excited. thank you! if you do not see your request posted, I promise it’s coming. My writing takes time and I appreciate the patience xo  warning: none  tag list: if you’d like to be added to any of my requested austin x reader fics, please let me know :) 

Tipping your head back towards the sky, you take a deep breath into your lungs as you exit the theater with your two best friends. Seeing Elvis for the third time is beginning to grate on your nerves—don’t get it wrong, the movie is incredible. The acting, the costumes, the music, all of it, ten out of ten, you just don’t need to see a film more than twice in theaters. Your friends are giggling like schoolgirls over the lead, Austin, and well—right, he’s definitely pretty but you don’t understand the hype. You don’t think you’ve really seen him in much before this.

“You two are beginning to sound borderline stalker-ish.” You tease over your shoulder, Marie reaching for your arm and forcing you to walk with them.

“I don’t want to hear it; you’ve watched tons of things over again for your favorite actor. What about Charlie Hunnam?”

You let out a soft breath that flutters your hair, “We don’t talk about Charlie.”

Paige grins, putting a hand through her strawberry-blonde strands, “Well that’s fine because we want to talk about Austin. Can you imagine the physical endurance he had to have to pull off all those movements? Performances?”

Marie grins, “Oh so we’re talking about his stamina?”

You roll your eyes even though you’re smiling as you head back to the car with them. It’s not that you don’t think Austin Butler isn’t attractive, he is, and obviously very gifted and talented. And maybe it goes beyond him being your type or not—sometimes it’s just hard to think about things other than what you’ve been going through recently. That’s what heading to the movies was supposed to be for, an escape, your best friends dragging you out of your apartment despite the fact that you’ve seen this film already.

But they know you need the extra support and you love them for that.

Your past breakup has been rough, moreso than you ever imagined it was capable of being. Just…the person you thought you’d been in love with for seven years turned out to be a completely different man. He was a cheater, a liar, and abusive—not necessarily physically, but definitely emotionally.

You’re working on building a better space for yourself, but it hasn’t been easy. You suppose anything worth it rarely is, but sometimes it’s hard to think about anything else. Shaking those thoughts loose, you get into your car as Marie and Paige continue to talk about their favorite scenes from the movie—describing them in detail as if they’re not going to visit the theater for a fourth time.

You smile a little as you start the engine, pulling out of the parking spot—you guess there’s really nothing better than an escape, especially when it involves a very handsome actor named Austin.

--

It’s a beautiful Fall day, the kind of season that feels like it might be snuggle worthy even in the sunlight. Crisp, crunching leaves, the end of summer passing along it’s final rays of heat. This is your favorite type of weather, right before it gets too cold. You can wear jeans, booties and a t-shirt with a jacket and have zero concerns. Not to mention it’s ideal to sit outside with a cup of coffee…which is your reward for getting grocery shopping done today. You push the cart around the aisles of Whole Foods, crinkling your nose at the selection they’ve got for most items because…it seems a little bare in some spots. Definitely in that time slot of restocking shelves.

No matter, you’ll make do with what you get and then come back another day this week to grab anything you might be missing. Surveying your cart, you���re pretty much done except for your favorite cereal, so you turn the cart in that direction and pause amongst the boxes.

Maple Clusters—literally one of your favorite things. Add a little extra cinnamon and honey? Ugh, with a cup of coffee it’s damn near perfect. And that’s something you never like to say often—that something is perfect, because you’ve learned the hard way that nothing ever is.

You let out a slow breath, moving down the aisle and spotting the box you need on the top shelf. Abandoning your cart, you walk to grab it, arm raised—

And someone else snatches it right before you can. You blink, looking over at the taller guy who has your Maple Clusters in his clutches. He seems to sense you standing there, because he turns slightly and blinks, looking down at the box.

“Sorry, were you goin’ for this?”

For some reason he looks wickedly familiar, like you’ve seen him in this store before or…maybe just around. New York is one of those places where you can run into the same ten people out and about over the course of a month—which sounds like it makes zero sense until you live here.

You hesitate for a moment, taking him in, tall, boyish charm with blue eyes that are only brightened by the curls of his dirty blonde hair and the jean jacket sherpa he’s wearing. Attractive? Yes. Annoying? Also yes.

“I was,” You lick your lips, “It’s the best cereal they have.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he turns to face you, still holding onto the box between his hands. “I know,” There’s a sort of drawl to his tone, a deeper octave that maybe you weren’t expecting. It almost seems like it doesn’t quite go with his face, body, something learned. “That’s why I grabbed it.”

You narrow your eyes, attempting to grab anything else that you might be able to barter with. “Okay—there are plenty of decent second options here. Strawberry Oats, got little yogurt pieces in there,” The guy’s face takes on this amused twist, watching as you try to argue which cereal he should buy instead so you can have the one in his hands.

You notice he’s wearing rings on his slender fingers too which is…definitely not a negative, but not the point, either.

“Here and this one? Chocolate.” You wave the box for emphasis, “Who doesn’t love chocolate?”

“I dunno, do you? Seems like if you’re gonna argue for these cereals, you should just go head and buy ‘em.”

Heat kisses your cheeks and splotches down your neck, “No—I’m saying you should get one of them and surrender the Maple box.”

“I was here first.”

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822 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

co-stars

words: 2,475 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (request from @lovvelylivv) “hidden co-star relationship“ where austin and female reader are doing press tour 4 elvis and the interviewer is like low key flirting w her and austin is clearly jealous but he can’t do anything bc they’re not public yet.  notes:  masterlist posted here! warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell

It just sort of happened, that’s what you tell your closest friends.

You’ve been in plenty of films before to know the drill—showing up, doing your job and doing it well, going through the motions of before and after a movie wraps, the interviews, the parties, the events, the awards. You know for the most part what to expect.

But what you didn’t expect was Austin.

Your agent comes to you with this great opportunity, to be in a film that’s not quite a biopic but something more than that, a story that needs to be told and shared about Elvis Presley. You’re not quite sure how you fit into this thing or even if you can carry out something that’s so important to this man’s legacy. But you’re a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and so when you get the part from your audition, you know you’re not going to take anything for granted.

Working with Austin is just the icing on the cake. You knew of him from similar circles, but you didn’t understand how incredibly talented and dedicated he was until working with him firsthand. Not only that but he’s extremely humble, thoughtful, and sweet. Not only was running lines and scenes with him easy, but he also became a fast friend that you could talk to about the film, the industry and just general things you’d been going through.

You knew Austin had lost his mother when he was younger, he’s always been rather open about that with regards to his Elvis role, but you don’t quite have the words to be able to say how much he was there for you when your dad got sick. Right in the middle of filming too. So much of your world was spinning off it’s axis and Austin was the only person that made things slow down, still. Your father eventually got better, but it was an incredibly rocky few months and you don’t think you would have made it through without having someone to lean on.

So it’s only natural that a month or so after that, you two started seeing one another.

At first it was just kissing—electrically charged moments leftover from emotionally vulnerable states, the connection you two felt over shared experiences, shared pain. But it obviously blossomed into being something more than that because your feelings didn’t have anything to do with finding an escape.

Kissing turned into spending the night, which turned into dates, which turned into introducing friends and family—even though your father already knew Austin well from all the time he visited in the hospital. The relationship is serious, yet very private. Both of you know what it’s like to have your lives turned inside out by Hollywood, to constantly being under the microscope of the public eye and…you both want to focus on what’s important, which is right now Elvis and all the hard work you’ve put in over the years.

Your relationship is your business and yours alone, Austin agrees that there’s a time and place to go public. For now, it’s minimal PDA that doesn’t go beyond close friends and the real intimacies behind closed doors. Austin’s a gentleman naturally, so most of the time his mannerisms towards you are easily explained.

It makes sense, though it doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

You walk out of a small back room to an interview space, mostly a red-curtained area that has the ELVIS movie logo behind two tall chairs that you and Austin are going to sit in. You’re not mic’d yet, so small conversations are able to be had as everyone else runs around to get ready for the interview. You give Austin a small smile, his hand along your lower back as you walk to the chairs,

“You gotta help me climb onto these things.”

A soft laugh rumbles in his chest and well, these chairs are slightly awkward. They’re elevated from the ground but especially if you’ve got heels on? You kinda got to hold onto someone else as you hoist yourself up and get situated.

“What would you do without me?” He teases, holding onto your hand and helping you up. “You good?”

“I think,” You shimmy around to get comfortable, adjusting your blazer that you paired with black skinny jeans and black studded heels. Austin’s just got a simple black t-shirt on, pleather pants but…the man could wear grocery store paper and still look great.

“Don’t be fallin’ over in one of these things.” His hand lingers along your hip and brushes your arm as he moves to take the chair next to you and you try not to think about how easily he adjusts with his long legs. One is bent just slightly as his heel rests on a rung of the chair.

“Right, would hate for you to show up at my mom’s house tonight for dinner without me.” You grin, voice an octave lower just in case.

Austin smiles, licking his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, “Your mom loves me—she probably wouldn’t even think twice.”

You snort, shaking your head. Honestly…that’s a bit true. Guaranteed she probably made an extra special dessert or something for him since she knows he’s coming to dinner. You straighten your shoulders as the interviewer comes out behind the red curtain, sitting in the other chair. A slew of other people follow, putting mics on both you and Austin, makeup people padding a few spots on your faces and finally asking if you’d like water or anything else to drink.

The interviewer’s name is Max and he’s this really chill guy from Brooklyn who has his own YouTube channel and podcast and you’re able to talk with him a little bit before getting started, cameras being turned on and intros being swept out of the way. Max does a great job at ping-ponging the questions back and forth to you and Austin, which you really appreciate. Sometimes you’ve been in interviews where questions are mostly for Austin—and that’s totally okay with you, but half the time you’re not even asked a second question in a half hour or hour span of time.

Austin makes sure you’re always pulled into the conversation though too, somehow turning questions about him, his craft, or his experiences, to loop you right into responding. It constantly makes you want to lean over and kiss him on the cheek for being so thoughtful. Max balances the questions out without being prompted, which makes the interview far more interesting to be a part of.

“So, I just gotta pause and say, Y/N, you were incredible in the film,” Max says, “I mean, just as often as I was blown away by Austin, I was astounded with you as well.”

You smile, still not used to taking compliments but you’re always appreciative to hear them. Your cheeks flush a soft pink and you can feel rather than see Austin smiling too in your direction, that sort of proud awe look he’s reserved for you many times over.

“Thank you,” You curl your hair around your ear, “It’s definitely a marathon race kind of movie, twists and turns, all good things though, astounding experiences.”

“What was the most difficult part for you?” Max begins to ask but then touches the earpiece he’s wearing, “Oh wait—hold on. Seems like we’re getting feedback from your mic. Sorry about that,” He stands from the chair, “Gonna need to switch it out.”

“Oh,” You look down, beginning to unclip it from the blazer you’re wearing. Austin picks up his water during the small break, taking a sip as Max gets another mic and helps you switch it out. Your hands brush as you exchange mics but you’re having trouble pinning it back on the lapel of your blazer without it falling.

“Here—let me…” Max trails off, stepping into your personal space. You can see Austin out of the corner of your eye watching, but trying not to, the interaction. You’ve gotten pretty well at sussing out Austin’s body language in this time together, as he’s come to know yours, so it’s clear that he’s not thrilled with how close Max is standing to you.

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1,213 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

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