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silverview · 16 days

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maybe the details of art are common knowledge, but i only read up about it yesterday. it's interesting! it opened in the west end in 96 & was something of a popular hit

it's about three old friends who fall out when one of them buys an expensive painting that's an almost-blank white canvas (a quiet night in); one of them aggressively disapproves, calling it pretentious; and the third is caught in the middle trying to keep the peace

had a ton of casts – a new one every three months. (the effect of this is interesting – more on that below.) tlog were selected to be the last lot before it closed in 02. if you don't already know, who do you suppose played each role? it has nothing to do with the weirdly deceptive promo pics. answers & more below the cut

mark played the friend who buys the painting, steve played the one who disapproves, and reece played the guy caught in the middle. i wonder how that decision was made. i wonder if they considered any alternative configurations (bf had steve & reece switched, which i think makes a lot of sense). as always i'm like. but what does the character say about YOU

they got mixed reviews. nearly every review singles out reece's delivery of this monologue, though they disagree on whether it was good or not. perhaps surprisingly, they don't uniformly characterise it (or his performance in general) as particularly angry. not to be dramatic but i would kill and die to have seen it, just that monologue alone

so below i've collected the most interesting parts of surviving reviews. the last one is my fav. some of them have interesting things to say on the effect of the rotating cast, sort of the opposite of the in9 meta-character effect, which i think is pretty funny & fitting

BBC

Reece Shearsmith is a little too giddy with Yvan's furious diatribe about his impending wedding - the laughs are landing so hard that some others are being lost in the process. But he is a particularly touching and vulnerable go-between, desperately sitting on the fence in the conflict that erupts between his friends Serge (Mark Gatiss) and Marc (Steve Pemberton), and finding - as you do - that those who sit on fences are liable to get splinters.

GUARDIAN

[A] play as bland and flimsy as this requires actors who are not only heroically talented but who also have formidable technical skills. Pemberton, Gatiss and Shearsmith don't. They are likeable, even mildly engaging but you are always aware that they are putting on a performance. What's more, they are far less funny than the two other casts I've seen. Shearsmith, for example, flunks the timing of his long monologue so instead of making an audience rock with waves of laughter, he gets only one big laugh right at the end. The silences in the evening, in particular the famous olive scene, are not eloquent, just empty.

THEATREGUIDE

I've heard, though, that other casts have had other dynamics. With some, it plays as light comedy, satirising everyone's pretensions to high passions. Others make it a touching study in the fragility of friendship and all three men's hitherto-unrealised need for it. The cast changes every three months or so [...] Just be prepared for the fact that the show you see will be different in tone and effect from the one your friends saw last year, and will probably be a glib skating over the emotional issues and implications it raises. [...] And while the laidback, indeed colloquial, approach of Mark Gatiss (perky Serge), Steve Pemberton (laconic Marc) and Reece Shearsmith (wickedly neurotic Yvan) may not be to everyone's taste, it's undeniably perfect casting to complete the spectrum of wall-to-wall talent that's made the show such a feature of London's theatrical landscape. [...] Playing cheekily with rhythms of speech and timing, they create a very English rendition of what is essentially a French play, substituting the de rigueur dramatic devices and flourishes with frighteningly real personalities that transcend the dramatic crutch of Yasmina Reza's Continental-style philosophizing text and sub-text. Admittedly the first ever cast of Courtenay, Finney and Stott all those years ago set the benchmark for the production (though I found them yawnsome and wooden) - and the League have the advantage of tapping into the accumulated performances that followed.

i think "laidback," "colloquial," "cheeky," "English" and "real" might be euphemisms for northern – more on that below

CIX

Having now seen Art three or four times (to be honest, I forget which), I've begun to muse that in some strange way it's a metaphor for itself. It's not just the performance dynamics, our impression of the trio's relationship, that varies from cast to cast... it's the very sense of how much real content there is in Reza's play, of whether it takes its thematic concerns about inherent versus attributed qualities (whether of a painting or a person) very far or not. In a sense, the performers are the series of diagonal white lines painted on to the white canvas of the play. And like the lines in the painting on stage (or so we're told), they're not pure white: some are vaguely yellow, some are sort of ochre-ish... In the case of the League, the bizarrely unrelated publicity images make clear that what's hoped for is a kind of fake-blood crimson tinge. So although there's no real indulgence, director Jennie Darnell allows the three to turn in a slight caricature of the naturalism with which the piece has usually been played, that little unreality often seen in the kind of sketch comedy where the group cut their teeth. The elegant apartment set is a world away from the League's fictional town of Royston Vasey, but the casting of the individual members plays to respective strengths familiar from their various screen guises. As Serge, who has paid 200,000 francs for the picture, Mark Gatiss exudes an appropriately smug and supercilious cleverness. As Marc, who faces off against Serge by declaring the canvas "shit", Steve Pemberton is more mercurial, with an air of suppressed violence. Reece Shearsmith, the relatively cuddly one [sic], succeeds in focusing audience identification on Yvan, the less smart piggy-in-the-middle. All three are of course skilled performers, and you can see the rapport gained from up to fifteen years' collaboration in, for instance, the way Gatiss and Pemberton trade facial "mugs" as they first consider the painting. However, this very affinity with each other enables them to skim over deeper elements in the play. When Shearsmith gabbles out Yvan's great bewildered set-piece about the complications of his wedding arrangements, we applaud the high-speed delivery but don't pick up enough of what he says to engage with Yvan's travails.

kissing this reviewer on the mouth for specifically describing what he thinks their respective strengths are & especially for describing reece as THE CUDDLY ONE like... idk if it shows but i'm obsessed with how people see them, and how they see themselves & each other

EVENING STANDARD

Not so much a piece of headline-grabbing stunt casting as three trained actors flexing their thespian muscles [...] bona fide drama graduates, not comedy chancers. This immediately shows, from their poise, projection and presence. Only the dimple-chinned Pemberton as intolerant Marc comes close to his rogues' gallery of BBC2 personae during moments of rage when he cannot come to terms with Serge's purchase of an overpriced minimalist painting. By contrast, Mark Gatiss as the punctilious, pretentious Serge is the epitome of restraint, as cool as his sharp, charcoal suit. The comic moments are all in context. Shearsmith, as the boyish Yvan, is increasingly troubled by his imminent nuptials. This eventually spills out in a breathless pseudo-Pythonesque rant against marriage that is as funny to witness as it is difficult to say. But throughout, the trio respect Reza's text, sidelining their insatiable appetite for the grotesque that has made their their brand of humour so distinctive. This may, however, be problematic. Having sold out in the West End with their sketch show a couple of years ago, some of the threesome's intensely passionate fans may see Art as a follow-up and feel shortchanged. The eye-catching poster may compound the deception, the chopper, axe and chainsaw being wielded suggesting some Grand Guignol flourishes which never materialise.

BBC AGAIN

The northern accents do not quite ring true in the sophisticated setting of a Paris apartment and often lead to flat performances, where one gets the feeling their brand of wit is not quite enough to portray Parisian conceit. The strongest display by far comes from Mark Gatiss (Serge) - the eerie butcher in League of Gentlemen - as the tall, slightly effeminate doctor who acquires the painting, striking just the right balance of preciousness and acerbic wit. The diminutive Reece Shearsmith is adequate in his portrayal of Yvan, the put-down-upon soon-to-be-married stationer caught in the middle of the feud between his two friends. But the biggest disappointment comes from Steve Pemberton, who plays Marc, the critical compadre who takes Serge's indulgence for contemporary art as a personal slight. Pemberton, normally the trio's strongest performer, well-known for his brilliant turn as Pauline in the League of Gentlemen, seems ill at ease in the role. His northern persona cannot quite stretch far enough to inhabit the part of Marc, an angry homeopathic freak whose insecurity finds it hard to cope with his friend's show of independence over the painting. Like the painting, the play does not remain colourless throughout however. One of the highlights is Shearsmith's 10-minute tirade about the difficulties of coping with the women in his life ahead of his impending wedding.

yeah this one is definitely my favourite. casually calls them ALL scallies, then calls each of them out INDIVIDUALLY for being a) gay b) short c) shit. absolute legend. did they ever find this reviewer's body

related, from this article in the guardian:

"When we first did Art, a review said 'Yes, but can they act?' and that made me angry," said Shearsmith. "I remember thinking 'What have we been doing in The League of Gentlemen? It's not standup."

in 2013, reece said art was his favourite ever play to do. highlights from the replies

#tlog #the league of gentlemen #reece shearsmith #steve pemberton #mark gatiss #rs

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bisexualcage · 1 year

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Half-Truths | Johnny Cage x GN!Reader (Requested)

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: You and your costar Johnny get stuck in a PR (fake) relationship to promote your new film. It’s a bit fluffy & angsty.

Warnings: No warnings, although some sexual insinuations here and there.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I didn’t proof read a lot so yeah excuse any mistakes

There was a sense of annoyance you got immediately after receiving word that you’d have to participate in a PR relationship with no other than Johnny Cage. He was annoying— egotistical even, and that’s just what you saw when you were on set. So when your management suggested that it’d benefit the film’s promo to start dating you threw a fit. It was enough spending months with him filming, it was another nightmare pretending to like him in real life. Johnny was all over the idea, immediately jumped on board as attention starved as he was.

“So Cage, there’s been some rumors…circling the webs ya know…”

Johnny smirked and crossed his legs on the seat, knowing exactly what was about to come as he shot you a quick glance. “Oh I know, buddy.” He winked your way before looking back at the interviewer in front of you both. You were both promoting your film and in every interview you found yourself slowly going crazy by the same questions.

“Is it true? Are you both a thing?” The interviewer smiled.

“Oh we’re more than a thing. We’re quite…familiar with one another for a few months now.” He smirked, then playfully bumped your shoulder with his as you sported a flushed expression.

The interviewer then looked at you for confirmation making your eyes roll mentally; “That’s…that’s exactly right.” Your smile.

“Oh babe, I love when you’re shy.” Johnny said suddenly, making you go more red against your wishes.

“Wow, you two are sure hitting it off! I’m happy for you both, I bet your fans are ecstatic Cage.” The interviewer chuckled.

“Hell yeah, they love (name), right honey?”

—

“Hey- sweetheart, wait up!” Johnny yelled after you when the interview was over, you felt like your face was 50 shades of red and you hated him for making you feel gooey in front of a camera even though it was not real.

“Don’t.” You turned around suddenly and face him, “You embarrassed me. We were just supposed to confirm we were dating, none of that lovey dovey bullshit you pulled.”

There was a loud silence on his part as you finished ranting, a hurt expression of sorts before he shrugged it off and smirked again. “Come on! We gotta sell it. That’s what our management demands— that’s what the fans demand.” He let his hands drop to his thighs.

You scoffed loudly, “A confirmation was enough!”, you were being immature, hiding what you really felt inside.

Johnny laughed now, “Listen sweetheart, you weren’t exactly selling it in the previous interviews so I had to step it up!”

What’s funny is that he was correct, but you wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever probably.

“Whatever, I’m done for the day.” You rubbed your forehead.

The actor raised an eyebrow at you, “You gonna come to the film festival right? Now there, there is a lot of promo to do there in a few days.” He winked.

You groan, “It’s my job unfortunately so of course I’m going-“

“You know, in all the months that we spent together shooting I’ve never known you to be the relaxed type— you’re constantly uptight. Like a little angry chihuahua. Let loose, this’ll be good for us.” He grinned.

“Good for us?” You raise an eyebrow questionably.

Johnny chuckles, “Yes, us…”

“What do you mean by that? Don’t start actually getting feelings on me now.” You cross your arms, a visible warmth up your neck.

“I know I know, it’s our job. Don’t worry, honey.” He nudges your shoulder.

—

A few days later the film festival came to be, there was actors of all calibers walking around being interviewed and their films being shown on projectors for audiences and critics. There was already a pressure of sorts- professionally and personally. You didn’t consider yourself the best actor in the world but you put your heart in this film— and as much as you hated to admit so did Johnny.

You walk in with professional attire, a carpet on the floor as you walked over it and a bunch of paparazzi started shouting your name and taking pictures. You weren’t used to this, you weren’t Johnny and it made you anxious the more you stood there trying to smile at every direction. Your hands shook slightly and you shoved them in your pockets to hide it.

Suddenly, you hear an uproar of yelling on the other side of the carpet as someone pulled up in a limo and you immediately knew who it was. Johnny, getting out in a dashing suit and tie, his usual shades on his face as he had his hair swayed a bit to the side. A bunch of fans were yelling at him compliments and even inappropriate comments but Johnny lived for that and smiled at them as blew kisses at the fans behind the railings.

“Name! Do you like your boyfriend’s outfit?” A paparazzi yelled as you forgot you were posing on the carpet, you shook your head and gave a simple thumbs up as your fingers kept shaking. You were about to have enough and walk off to the actual event but you felt a hand slide around your waist and pull you back.

“Hey, baby.” Johnny whispered in your ear and winked at you as he held you to his side, his hand softly gripping your waist as the paparazzi went crazy and started flashing their cameras even more. Johnny showed his pearly whites to the cameras all confidently and you looked the opposite, he noticed this as he felt your skin shake under his grip.

“You okay? Come on, let’s go…let’s get you some water.” He slid his hand now to the small on your back and walked your jittery figure out the carpet to the main event.

Inside you were screaming at his unexpected tenderness and for the life of you…you couldn’t figure out if this was part of the PR or not. Regardless, you looked at him with a rare softness. “Thanks…” you said lowly, a warmness on your cheeks.

Johnny chuckles and pats your back now, “If you fainted on the carpet it would been good for the film’s promo.” He said, obviously joking, there was a flash of care under his cocky expression. “Now, where’s that water?” He looked around, a bunch of actors and executives finding their seats for the viewing of your film.

Johnny then grabbed you by the wrist suddenly and dragged you like an excited puppy when he found the bar, “Hey man, give me your best H20 and a whiskey.”

The barman nodded and handed him a water bottle and then handed him his whiskey. Johnny opened the water bottle cap with his mouth, which you found amusing to say the least and then handed it to you; “Drink up, don’t want you pale. I know you ain’t used to these type of huge events like I am.”

“Johnny I’m fine for Christ sake-“ you chug the water, a clear blush on your face.

“Huh oh! Don’t blame a guy for caring you rascal.” He nudges you.

“I’m not saying you can’t…just….” You trail off shyly.

The actor raises an eyebrow, “Just what, sweetness?”

Before you can even formulate a rebuttal the hosts called for all attendees and cast members to get to their seats for the viewing of the film to start. You both found your seats, along with the director of the film and a few other cast members. You were nervous now, critics came from all around to judge and you couldn’t keep your leg from bouncing.

As the lights dimmed and the film started you looked over at a smiley Johnny who has his eyes fixated on the screen— the lights highlighting his face. It was endearing almost, despite his irritating personality sometimes he cared about filmmaking he cared about the craft— he cared about acting. If you counted the amount of times he quizzed you on film trivia back when you were filming on set you’d be a billionaire. He must of noticed your staring because he snapped his head your way and smirked.

“You know, we look good onscreen.” He whispered in your ear.

You chuckle softly, “I hope so. Would hate for a bunch of old men critiquing how bad I look.” You whisper back.

Johnny snorted now, a sparkle in his eyes even though it was pretty dark. Patting your knee briefly and then going back to watch the film. It was as if it was so natural of him to be so touchy with you and you didn’t get it.

As the film comes to an end there was a standing ovation. Rows of people standing up to applaud the film and it made you emotional. Your eyes glassy but you didn’t let any tears fall. Johnny looked over at you and patted your back with a smile, rubbing your back softly. “You’re just as a rockstar as I am.” He mumbled.

“Shut up.” You laugh with a shy smile.

Soon after, there was interviews held. Your whole cast and crew sat in a circle as interviewers asked everyone questions one by one.

“You seem emotional. This is your first time at a film festival right? and you experienced a standing ovation. You were amazing alongside Johnny and you guys had the best chemistry.” An interviewer said your way, the whole cast and crew looking at you, including Johnny who sat next to you.

You chuckle with a blush, “Thank you. Yeah, I was certainly a mess. This is all new for me and I- I really am so grateful for this opportunity.”

The interviewer now turned to Johnny with an excited expression, “Was there an instance on set that made you go…wow, this’ll work. I mean, it was so good you’re both in a relationship now.”

Johnny chuckles, looking over at you briefly; “I guess it was. Although, yeah, there was a moment on set where we were shooting the kissing scene and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why I was shaking like a damn maraca— I’ve kissed so many people. But (name)’s confidence and sternness in getting it done made me more…interested.”

Your face grew warm at his unexpected honesty, even while he said it there was no ounce of cockiness unlike in other interviews. It took you aback to say the least.

“And that’s how it came to be, huh? You were hooked immediately?” The interviewer kept going.

Johnny nods, “Definitely, like a fish to a hook.”

You looked at Johnny with a stunned expression, still not knowing how real he was being about that.

“You look surprised.” The interviewer shot at you.

“Oh- no, I’m just shocked at his information. He…never told me this.” You shifted in your seat as everyone in th room looked your way. “But huh- yeah he never ceases to amaze me.”

There wasn’t much PR work done on both your parts other than being seen in interviews together and some public sightings of you both walking around town, up until the carpet today when he decided to hold your waist. Outside of that everything’s been pure speculation and with Johnny confirming you both “dating” a few days ago, these invading questions were only gonna ramp up in the following weeks. And that was only further proven when the next question smacked your face.

“How’s bedroom time? Is (name) as stern with you in bed as on set?” The interviewer said with a perverted smile.

You didn’t know how to answer when he directed that question at you, everyone in the room slightly gasped and went quiet.

“What?” You whispered at the interviewer, your throat becoming dry.

“I said-“

“Hold your horses. That’s not a very respectful question is it? And most of all none of your damn business.” Johnny’s laid back demeanor was suddenly gone and his jaw clenched slightly. He took his shades off and his brown eyes were staring holes in to him.

“Woah- hold on, I’m just asking questions. I mean, y’all confirmed your relationship recently I’m just scooping a bit-“

“Johnny-“ you tried to intervene.

But Johnny grew colder at the man, “And that gives you the right to be a weirdo?”

Suddenly both of your agents stood up and begged for you both to say your goodbyes and end the interview. Johnny on the other hand wasn’t persuade as easily and ended up asking for the interviewers boss and the company he works for.

“Hey, damn- you sure make a habit of running off!” Johnny ran up behind you as the event came to a close.

You turn around with a stern expression, “Stop…”

“Woah woah woah- what’s wrong?” He whispered, looking around to see if anyone was looking.

You scoff loudly, crossing your arms, “You’re confusing me, you know that?”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “About?”

“About this whole damn thing. This.” You point and him and yourself. “This damn circus act, it’s gonna drive me insane-“

“Babe, you agreed to this circus act. Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not having a bit fun despite…it’s downs.” He thinks back to the interviewer with a solemn expression.

“Look, I appreciate you sticking up for me. But all you’re doing is confusing the hell out of me with what’s real or not. Sometimes it looks like you mean what you say and do-“

“I do. I can’t keep faking it anymore.” He said with a serious expression, his little smile gone.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“That whole story you told about being nervous when kissing me on set, that was real? Your nice deeds?” You said a bit too loudly because of how shocked you were.

He approaches you more with a tender expression, making you grow warm, “Yes.”

You shake your head rapidly, “Cage, you better not be pulling my leg here…”

“Shut up and come here…” he cupped your jaw with both his hands and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It was all so sudden that you didn’t even know what was happening at first, you eventually reciprocated with a blush on your face. When he felt you reciprocating he let out a sigh of relief against your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth and rubbing it against yours, he then pulled back softly as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Cat got your tongue, honey?” He rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re crazy you know that?” You smile warmly, “god you drive me insane…”

“Tell me, was this better than the kiss we had on set?” He smirked, looking down at your lips.

“It’s definitely an upgrade.” You look at his eyes softly.

Johnny smiled softly, bringing you in for an embrace, his mouth against your ear; “These weeks have been hell- pretending to be with you, making up stories and none of them being real. I want it to be real.”

It was a completely different version of him you’ve never seen, unusually very vulnerable and real.

“You know, I never really hated you. I was trying to…push my feelings away— thinking that it’d prevent me from liking you.” You said truthfully, looking in to his eyes.

“Oh I know that sweetheart, thats why I kept being specially annoying with the PR cause I knew you liked me— could see it from a mile away.” His smirk came back on his face, “I mean, who could resist this?”

“Cage…” You slap his shoulder playfully.

“Smack me like that again and we’re gonna end up in completely different circumstances.” He whispered in your ear.

“Oh yeah? You’re already thinking about that?”

Johnny kisses your jawline, taking in your smell, “Well, we are an item now are we not? No PR, no bs anymore babe.”

“Thank god, Hollywood.”

#johnny cage mk11 #johnny cage #mk1 #mortal kombat #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year

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a tale of ice baths and hot sauce

See my full list of works here!

Placement: the day after 'a sizing mishap'

Summary: An effort is made to find out who your mystery boyfriend is during the Elementals challenge when some members of the staff see some marks on your neck that weren't there before…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mango mention (no really i did that here lol); bit of insecurity from Reader if you squint

"You think anyone would notice if I just pinched a chip from the bowl?" you joked while setting up the table for the Elementals-themed challenge that a handful of the Soccer Aid players were going to voluntarily subject themselves to with Joelah, the host for most if not all the promo videos for this event. You raised an eyebrow playfully at her when she approached the table with a giddy little skip in her step, practically twirling in her outfit of relaxed fit jeans and a diagonal cut asymmetrical crop top. "Please tell me where you go shopping I'm in desperate need of cuter clothes. I mean, 'raiding the boyfriend's closet chic' is cute and all but…I also drown in fabric whenever I do it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Y/N, I think you're faring pretty damn fine if I do say so myself." She waved a hand at your current getup of a cropped loose olive green halter top and a black ruffle skort. "Players seem to enjoy it well enough," she mumbled with a lower tone, as if warning you that you were currently being ogled. "Oy! Eyes on the ball, you pervy lads!"

"Thanks," you told her with a smile, pulling your hair into a ribbon so that it wouldn't stick to your sweaty neck. "Now…do you wanna share with the class why you were skipping--"

"Bloody hell, Y/L/N, your neck!" she gasped, pointing at the right side of your neck and collarbone. "You didn't have that when I last saw you yesterday--Oh my lordy me, you hooked up with someone here! Is it one of the players? That social media star on the World team? One of the pros? Sam Claflin??"

"No on all fronts, Jo," you laughed off her questions. "My boyfriend's working the event, too. I was with him." Her jaw dropped to the ground with your revelation. "We're keeping things a bit…low key, you know?"

"Oh you and your secrets," she teased, still motioning toward your neck. "If that isn't a sign that screams 'Horny blokes step the fuck back', I haven't the faintest idea what is. Anyways, what were you asking earlier?"

"Ah, right. I was gonna ask why were you skipping on your way here like you were back in school and teacher just gave you a gold star?"

"Oh…Oh! Because I just got the players for the Elementals Fire and Ice challenge and Number 6 lit'rally up and volunteered to represent Team England." She made a motion fanning herself. "That godly bod dripping wet and clothes just clinging to him? Lordy me have mercy. And whoever put him in the teeniest jersey and shorts imaginable, I just wanna eurgh! Wanna grab 'em and thank 'em to the high heavens, y'know? Thank 'em for their service."

You are very welcome, you thought to yourself.

"Maybe if you leave an iced coffee on the table and go pspspsps they'll acknowledge your gratitude," you joked, once again pointing to the chips. "I'm taking a pinch. And trying out these sauces, I've been deadly curious since yesterday."

"You take the green one, I'll take one of the reds," she offered, already getting a large chip for herself and placing a few drops of the brighter red condiment. When you had placed a dollop of the green hot sauce onto your own chip, you clinked your pieces together before taking thing whole and bracing for the worst. "Fuck all that is hellish!" she mumbled around her piece, eyeing you incredulously while you just continued on chewing and letting the taste of the sauce linger for a moment or two. "How in the…"

You grabbed all the bottles and looked over the labels with a scrutinizing eye. "The green's deceptive. Makes you think you're getting the milder one but it's got the highest level of Scoville units. I feel sorry to whoever's gonna end up with that."

There was some motion from the corner of your eye, which you quickly realized were the camera crew and some other members of the staff carting around numerous 10 gallon bottles of water and 3 drums. And following just behind them were the six players slated to play this little trivia game. You gave them all a little wave and a courteous smile, making sure to hold eye contact with each of them, and saving Tom for last so you could allow yourself the indulgence of holding his gaze for a fraction of a moment longer, which he returned with a small wave and an obviously deliberate infinitesimal twitch of his two middle fingers.

"Goodness, Y/L/N," one of the staff members, Allen, bellowed. "What happened to--"

"My neck?" you finished for him. "Don't worry about it. My boyfriend thinks himself a vampire," you answered with a casual shrug, earning you a round of chuckles from the rest of the crew and the players. You motioned toward the water drums. "Should we get that all set up then?"

"Oh. Yeah, for sure." He waved his arm toward the drums as well. "Have at it."

"I could help you," Scarlette chimed in, already taking the end of the drum in front of you and jutting her chin in the direction of your neck. "I didn't see that on you yesterday when I picked up my uniform. I take it your boyfriend's somewhere in the building then?" She capped off her question with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Yes, and I'm not saying a single word on where and who he is. But I won't deny it if anyone guesses correctly. The only catch though…you only get two guesses each," you offered, looking at both her and Joelah.

"Claflin," Scarlette spoke immediately, causing the other one to make a motion as if to stop her but all too late.

"Aaaaand that's one wrong guess. Also makes you the second person in this place to for some reason think that I'm bumping uglies with Finnick Odair."

"I could've told you it's not Mister Clock App, or Claflin…or any of the pros," Joelah grumbled out. "We're down to three."

You two set up the last of the water drums, making sure that they were equidistant from one another, and after thanking Scarlette you moved toward the massive water bottles to start filling them up. "Let me help you," Tom spoke up, already placing his hands under the bottle, brushing his hands across yours before taking most of the weight of the bottle and leading you both toward the drum. "You reckon they'll guess me, darling?" he asked under his breath.

"Absolutely not," you answered, keeping your voice down. "I don't think they'll even consider it a possibility that I can pull you."

"Personally I think you pull me just fine," he shot back, smirking when you had to suppress a chortle from his words. "More than fine, actually."

"Menace," you hissed, trying to covertly take deep breaths while the two of you walked to the next bottle and repeated the process.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Okay you must be built all kinds of different, because I don't think I coulda kept my wits about me being that close him with the guns on full display, and in close proximity to…what was it the internet called it again?"

"The mango?" you prompted Joelah, causing you both to break out in stifled giggles while waiting for the camera crew to finish setting up.

"Yes! And I saw that little hand brushing, too I mean—how were you not absolutely swooning the second he walked up to the bottle? Hell, how did you even function?"

I have been under those guns on full display and touched more than just his hand, you thought to yourself, holding your words back and instead gave her a little shrug. "Worked with him before. You get used to it," you bluffed. "Besides, I've got someone, and I'm really happy and stupid in love. So there's that, too."

"We need a hand here!" Scarlette called out in your general direction, her and Bugzy already on their feet but pointing at Tom who for some unknown reason, currently had both feet sticking up and out of the drum and putting him in a position that made it exceedingly more difficult for him to get up and out of the drum.

"How in the actual fuck did he even get like that?" you started thinking aloud. A strangled noise slipped from your mouth the second his head dipped below the water and his hands lost their grip on the edge of the drum.

You knew that he would be able to find his way back up, but it didn't stop the way your heart caught in your throat. The way that your legs were involuntarily twitching as if taking on a mind of their own and urging you to make your way to him.

If he hadn't stuck his head back out from under the water just a few seconds later, you would have been more than ready to run to him and help him to his feet, check on him the way he often checked on you when he would see you short of breath on set. You wouldn't have given a damn about the cameras capturing your every move.

But instead you were frozen in place, watching as he ascended and took a big heaving breath, shaking the water from his hair and his eyes before finding your gaze. You were suddenly acutely aware of nearly every minute movement of your body trying to fight back every reaction you had to the excessively obvious bedroom eyes he was giving you, resorting to subtly digging what little fingernail you had into the palm of your hand to at least focus on something else until he looked away.

You moved the moment you clocked the excitement on the faces of Joelah as well as some female members of the staff, already undoubtedly about to speak up that they would gladly help him out. "Can we cut?" you hollered toward the cameraman, who responded to you with a simple thumbs up, pressing a button on his equipment that stopped recording. You quickly whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of Tom in the precarious position before you reached him.

"Really, Y/N?" he huffed, feigning exasperation but you knew that tone better than any other person around you at the moment. He was amused. And you would be in trouble later tonight. You even began to doubt if you could completely walk properly in the morning or if you would walk into the briefing area with a more than slight penguin waddle.

"Had to," you quipped, shrugging your shoulders and scrunching your nose at him reflexively before placing your phone back in your pocket and holding your arms out toward him so he could brace himself. "Tuck your feet back into the drum."

You heard the slightest grumble from him before he wrapped a hand around one of your arms, did exactly as you said, and then wrapped his other arm across your shoulders while he tried to find his footing in the undoubtedly slippery interior of the water drum. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered under his breath, pulling you closer as you gripped the towel that was handed over to you and making quick work to spread it out and use it as a cover from prying eyes and wild cameras once his feet were firmly planted on the ground again.

The heavily curious gazes of everyone around you gave you enough pause to not wrap the towel around his waist, realization quickly dawning on you that the gesture would definitely be seen as a show of intimacy. You avoided his gaze as he took the towel from you, opting instead to lead the way to behind the backdrop, picking up his cleats and bag on the way.

You felt the irrational bristling of your skin as the sound of women giggling and commending your boyfriend on his form throughout the drills hit your ears, your hands finding it difficult to grasp the small laundry pouch you'd packed in his bag and a fresh pair of socks from the near violent shaking. When a familiar ridiculously large hand appeared in front of your face, you looked up abruptly to find Tom standing above you, the smile on his face growing brighter when you placed your hand in his and stood up.

"You're shaking," he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Come here."

He caught you off guard when he tugged you into his arms, a small yelp escaping you before you could stop yourself that had you hoping that nobody on the other side of the backdrop heard it. "What're you doing?" you questioned him in hushed tones, holding back your giggles as he pressed the fluffy sleeves of the bathrobe that he wore to your face and neck. Your hands wrapped around his wrist when he started patting at the exposed skin of your chest. "Sweetie!" You couldn't hold back your giggles when he used his free arm to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

"You're wet," he said simply, continuing to pat at your dampened skin.

"Well I'm your girlfriend, it kinda comes with the territory," you quipped, letting out another barely muted squeal when he pulled his hand from your grasp and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. Almost immediately you melted in his arms, both of you smiling against each other's lips as you wrapped your arms around him. "Private--"

"This is private, goddess," he cut you off, capturing your lips in another soft kiss. "Public would be bringing you to the center of the field and marking you again with everyone as witness so that there isn't a shadow of doubt in anyone's mind that you're mine."

The sound of the camera crew calling out for him snapped you two out of your moment. "Give me a minute," he hollered out, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before loosening his hold on you and letting you step back from him. You offered him your hand to hold himself steady while he changed out the soiled socks from the challenge. "Did you take a look at the hot sauces on the table?"

"Of course I did," you quipped, scrunching your nose at him when his eyes flickered to yours. "Don't take the green one, it's a trap."

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, eyeing you with a smirk when he stood upright and you took his shin guards from him. "And what exactly are you doing, darling?"

You answered him with a playful grin. "Oh I'm sorry. Would you like to try putting these on through two layers of fluff?" He answered you with a minute shake of his head. "No? Well alright then." You proceeded to crouch down and place the shin guards under the knee-high socks, only stopping when you heard a shutter from above your head and looking up at him from your position with a bemused smirk. "Really, Tom?"

"It needed to be done," he said with a chuckle, waving your phone tauntingly in his hand. "After all, you do look so tempting from this angle. Let me just send this to my phone really quick."

You made a point to audibly snap the garter of his sock against his skin, making him jump the slightest bit and squint his eyes at you as you rose to stand upright again. "Give it back," you cooed, holding your hand out. Instead of doing just that, he grabbed hold of your hand and closed the distance between you, placing your arm over his shoulder as his hands roamed down your back before settling in your back pockets.

Before you could say a single word, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss and you could feel the weight of your phone back in your pocket. As well as his hand grabbing a handful of your ass before he pulled away. "I love you," he whispered, briefly brushing the tip of his nose across yours before stepping backwards, back to the set so that the World Team could have their turn at the ice baths.

"I love you, too." The sound of the crew calling out your name this time and telling you to come help in setting up the next batch was enough to wipe the smitten grin off your face and send you running in the other direction.

A/N: Starting off my 5-day weekend strong with a new Soccer Aid piece out! I have one more that I'm gonna focus on before I give Soccer Aid Hiddles a break from the page for a while to focus on…'relinquish the crown: plans & protestations'! 😳👀 It's been too long since I've written those two blorbos and I miss them so they're next 💖

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

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slutouttanowhere · 4 months

Text

Ocean Eyes

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x black!reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff

a/n: I really really really, wanted something to post, so here we are. Just a tiny one shot, or imagine? Theres a reference to Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish, those lyrics belong to her. Hope you enjoy. Divider from @interstellarz

After a long few months, we were both booked and busy. It’s pre-mania season, Drew and I were both booked to win our respective rumbles. Which meant countless meetings with the creative teams, interviews, promos, non stop flights, and appearances. I might be going through four wigs a month during this time of year, and my nail tech is just about tired of me. “Oh my god, when does it end.” Drew cried out half heartedly from his side of the bed, his night time routine wasn’t as extensive as mine. Usually he ends up waiting for me as I finish up; as I stand in the bathroom infront of the mirror, clay mask slowly drying, and Chaz sitting and watching me curiously. I popped my head out, Drew already facing in the direction of the bathroom door.

“Don’t whine, you love it.” I smiled, a grin of his own stretches across his lips, after I rinsed everything off, and put my things away I slipped my PJs on. At the sound of the wooden floor creaking beneath my feet, his eyes lifted from his phone, and slowly made their way up my body. From my bare legs, all the way up to my cleavage before settling on my eyes. His facial expression softened, love, and adoration etched across his handsome face. I stood at foot of the bed, Chaz in my hands, and a small smile on my lips.

“I do love it, it’s all worth it in the end. Come, beds are not only for love making ya know.” He patted the spot next to him, without hesitation I let Chaz hop out my arms, and I then crawled into the bed. I laid on my back, my arms open and waiting for Drew cuddle me. He likes to sleep with his head on my chest, the sound my heart calms him, and the weight of his body keeps my anxiety away. We’re a perfect fit. Chaz usually finds a spot between the both of us, not wanting to be left out of corse.

“Something is missing…” He mumbled, his face pressed between my breast, the sensation of his beard making me giggle. His arms were wrapped tightly around me, he held onto me like a pillow.

“I’ve been watching you, for some time, can’t stop staring at those ocean eyes.” I sang softly, my nails dragged across his back gently, and immediately his whole body relaxed.

“Thatsss it princess, thank you.” He moaned, Chaz’s purring just as loud, this was how our night went when we were back home. While we were in the road, I would travel with Naomi, Liv, and Rhea. Drew and I barely spent alone time together, if we did it was passed out together in bed. After my last presser, this had been the only thing I was craving. My man, my bed, and my cat.

#drew mcintyre #black!reader #black!oc #wwe fanfiction #wwe fluff

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undead-supernova · 7 months

Text

The Room Burned Down / Masterlist

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

plot: maybe going to award shows together isn't as fun as you think it's gonna be...so, baby, can we dance through an avalanche?...I'd hold you as the water rushes in...

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: public shaming, some fluff, a hint of spice, arguments, smoking, mentions of addiction, mentions of abuse, mentions of fatphobia

wc: 5.8k

“Do I have to talk to the press?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your manager, Clara, said, typing away on her phone.

“They’re going to rake me across the coals.”

It had been nearly a month since your first date with him. Despite his hope that the noise would die down, it was only exasperated by the fact that you two hadn’t been seen out in public, sparking breakup rumors. But it was only that he had his promo and you had yours, traveling round and round with no time to rest. You even had outfit fittings for this very event that kept you in two different cities. It hadn’t put any strain on your relationship. If anything, it did the opposite. You lived your own lives, calling when possible. Texting nonstop once you caught a break at the same time. It was all so new for you.

Clara looked at you through the reflection of the mirror, her professional face on. “If they do, just smile and walk away. Thank them for their time. Just try to stay neutral like you always do. You’ll be perfect, I promise.”

Knock.

You peered over at the wall, a smile forming on your lips.

You knew exactly who would pull that move.

Knock, knock, you sent back.

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Stop it, oh my god.”

A giggle left your lips. “Sorry.”

It was merely a coincidence that Corroded Coffin was getting ready for the American Music Awards on the same floor as you…directly next to you, that is. All by happenstance and absolutely nothing else. There was no coordination whatsoever and if anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d deny it.

But here you were, causing mischief within the first hour of being situated. To be fair, you hadn’t seen Eddie yet, rushed off before Corroded Coffin even showed up. It was whiplash, Clara already spouting off the plans for the night. The time you’d get into the car. When you’d get out. The red carpet. Reminding you how to pose, how to smile. All the while, people floated around you with makeup brushes and endless cups of coffee. Hushed whispers and sighs.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

When you didn’t respond, you watched your door open in the reflection with Eddie stepping in, dodging the assistants and the assistant’s assistant running around. You smiled as you took in his appearance. Loose t-shirt and sweatpants, all cozy and soft. Hair damp, bangs pulled back. You noticed he’d been sat down for makeup, only one of his eyelids dusted in navy eye shadow.

God, you’d missed him.

“What’re you doing in here?” you asked, nearly jumping up to give him the biggest kiss he’d ever received. But when your knees jerked, Clara placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you down. The pout on your lips wouldn’t even sway her.

“You didn’t answer my knock,” Eddie said, trying to sound innocent, placing a hand over his chest. “I thought you were dead.”

You giggled, but Clara only sighed, shaking her head as she fought a smile. “I can’t believe you both. Like toddlers, I swear.” She turned to Eddie. “Get out of here. We leave in two hours, and I know that hair takes at least one. Don’t make me call Paige.”

Eddie sent you a wink from the shadowed eye. “See you later, babe.”

You chuckled. “Bye, Eddie.”

Today was big for the two of you. Big big. You were sitting at a reserved table with Corroded Coffin. Just you, Eddie, Grant, Gareth, Jeff, and Ronnie. All together. In public. On TV.

Your boyfriend would be with you unlike the last few wanting nothing to do with the exposure, usually hiding across the room. But Eddie insisted, only wanting to be near you all night. There for you, rooting for you as you were there for him, rooting for him. Getting to spend time with his close friends and his girlfriend.

Everything was starting to fall into place. The noise was becoming more bearable the more they stayed out of earshot. The world was unable to penetrate the magnificent walls you’d built around your hearts. And if you could just get through tonight without a fuck up or a bout of controversy, everything would be okay.

When you emerged from your hotel room, nearly ten minutes late, you found Eddie waiting for you, dark eyes widened as he looked over your outfit. You were in a Sixties Go-go dancer fantasy with a sparkly pink romper, the straps wrapped around your neck. Tall block-heeled boots reaching your knees. A thick pink boa to drape over your elbows. Dripping in jewels.

An absolute daydream.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Eddie exclaimed, picking you up and spinning you around, the boa floating to the floor. You took in his scent, that beautiful mixture of nicotine and bergamot from whatever cologne he’d started wearing lately. His breath was fresh against your neck, your ear, your jaw. His warmth bleeding through his double-breasted navy suit, textured from the polyester and cherry blossom pattern.

When a nearly silent gasp left your lips, Eddie wasted no time with hiding himself with his hair and nipping at your neck. Your grasp on his shoulders tightened as his fingers dug into your sides. Feeling his tongue lightly flick over the mark made you feel, well, insane. Had it really been an entire month without his breath? Had you really spent an entire mouth with his voice over the phone, guiding you through your orgasms as you whined and begged for him? Had you really gone this long without him?

Despite wanting to pull him back into the room and rip off his ridiculously expensive clothes, you grabbed your boa and his hand before jogging towards the elevator.

Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Ronnie were already down at the car, probably drinking complimentary champagne and getting ready to sit in the audience for four hours, waiting for their names to be called. You couldn’t blame them. It did get rather boring after a while of the cameras and commercial breaks and announcers and performances. You’d almost been asked to perform, but before you could say yes, they asked Olivia to do it instead. It wasn’t something you minded, but there was a little part of you had felt sad at the loss.

But you were here to have fun, not worrying about who was who or what people had to say about you. Just have fun with the people who knew what real fun was. Be able to survive the night.

Survive. Endure. Have fun.

As you made your way through to the lobby, hand in hand, you glanced over at Eddie again. You couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, always seeming to take your breath away. It was an accurate cliché, but one that couldn’t fully encompass how you felt. Hell, the English language wasn’t even enough.

“You’re a vision in navy,” you complimented, taking him in once again.

“Apparently, it’s a deep Prussian,” he corrected before rolling his eyes.

“Oh, my bad,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey!”

Paige was storming towards you, scowling.

When you looked at Eddie, he just smiled at her and waved. “Paige, how lovely to see you tonight.”

But Paige merely groaned. “Get your asses to the car.”

“Look how beautiful my girlfriend is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, Eddie—”

“Cut it, Romeo,” Paige interrupted, shoving you through the door and into the limo with the rest of the band. Everyone cheered, handing you both champagne before clinking your glasses together.

You couldn’t help but look over at Eddie, his grin just as wide as yours.

I’m so in love with you, you thought, so close to letting it fall out. I’m so, so in love with you.

“Come on,” Paige shouted, making you flinch as you watched her signal to the driver. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As soon as you were let out of the car, Clara led you away from the group, ushering you towards the photo ops and interviews. Men behind cameras called your name, begged for your attention. This was still something you found strange, like being held in a cage. You were to be spectated, gawked at by the public as nothing more than a show. A source of entertainment that extended far beyond your comprehension.

But Clara had trained you for this since the first time you ever stepped out on one of these carpets. You knew how to give them what they wanted. So, you put your hand on your hip. Pivoted every few seconds for different angles. Let the light hit your highlighter at just the right moment. A smirk. A laugh. Shiny smile. Shiny eyes.

It killed you the moment you heard your boyfriend’s name being called from behind you, harmonious with the sound of the rest of their names being shouted out. The photographers were going nuts as they found their way onto the carpet. You wanted to look back at him, wanted to admire how he shone.

Because he did. He always did.

Eddie Munson knew how to shine without even breathing. Without talking. Without smiling. He could part a crowd like it was nothing, could bring everyone to their knees if he merely snapped his fingers. It was undeniable.

Everyone wanted him.

And, dangerously, he was all yours.

“You’ve been busy!”

You chuckled, trying to keep your eyes from flickering over at the camera being shoved in your face. This was the first interview of the night, the first of five. Five. It was something you’d agreed to months ago, but you didn’t realize just how taxing it would feel until the blonde woman in front of you stuck her microphone up to your lips.

“Oh, yeah!” you responded. “With writing the new album and thinking about the next tour and stuff, I’ve just been running around and trying to keep everything in check. Plus, Acacia My Dear means so much to me, I don’t want another album to overshadow that hard work.”

“And I’m sure you get a lot of support from your new boyfriend, Eddie Munson.”

You’d anticipated the mention, mulled it over and let yourself spiral late at night. But nothing prepared you for your dry mouth, for the lump in your throat as you began to scramble for an answer.

“Well, I’ve been really focused on my music,” you responded.

But she wasn’t letting up. “Will there be any songs about him on the new album?”

“I think art is always up for interpretation.” You smiled bigger despite your frustration, looking over her shoulder and pretending to notice someone. “I have to go, thank you.”

But you weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Have you collaborated with your boyfriend on anything?”

“I really like to write by myself. The songwriting and the music are so important to me. Obviously, it’s important to the people who are so talented in different ways. I’m just grateful that people seem to care about it as much as I do.”

“You and Eddie are so different. How does that translate at shows like this?”

“I think everyone is here because they’re successful and talented at what they do. I can only hope that I measure up tonight.”

“Do you think Corroded Coffin has a chance tonight?”

“Everyone here is so talented. I hope that everyone gets a chance to shine as much as they do. I know that winning isn’t everything, but I hope I have a good shot.”

“Is your new album influenced by Eddie’s sound at all?”

“I’m talented and successful because of the sound I’ve cultivated and what I do. I think that I will continue to evolve as an artist and as a songwriter and, for me, I believe that I have been doing just that.”

Four more interviews and each one talked about Eddie and not your music. Not your success. You hissed to your publicist that no one was allowed to even mutter Eddie’s name in an interview again and she furiously nodded and apologized. Clara nearly told you to cool it, but you stormed off into the venue. You didn’t want to hear from her. You’d done your fucking job.

When you spotted Eddie inside talking to Grant, you immediately found yourself in his arms. Away from the cameras. Away from the vultures.

“Eddie.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing your back.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” you gasped, anxiety flooding your system. Your hands were shaking, mind frenzied by the noise and the people and the fucking embarrassment.

“No, hey. It’s alright. Tell me what happened.”

You pulled back, but Eddie kept his hands on your waistline. Kept you close.

“They just kept bringing you up. I tried to steer it all away back to my music, but they just kept going.”

“Hey, they asked me that shit, too.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that my relationship is private, but I’m proud of all your hard work right now. ‘Cause I am.”

Immediately, you felt like a shitty girlfriend. “I should’ve said that. I’m sor—"

“Look at me, baby,” he interrupted, searching your eyes. “Tell me your favorite Beatles song right now. Hm?”

Searching your mind, you were caught on the only lyrics that came to mind.

“Life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting, my friend.”

“‘We Can Work It Out’.”

“And we can,” he replied with a small smile, tapping your chin. You nodded. “Let’s just go sit down with everyone and try to bring the energy back, alright? I’m right here with you, baby. Always.”

But there were other lyrics to that song, ones that echoed even louder.

“Try to see it my way

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong

While you see it your way

There’s a chance that we may fall apart before too long.”

Everything was turned around, the smiles and the laughter returning you to your senses. Corroded Coffin won the only award they were up for tonight. Naturally. After that, Jeff had pulled out a hidden deck of cards. You, him, Eddie, and Gareth were in a mean game of Go Fish, giggling your way through Gareth trying to cheat.

You were hardly listening when someone said your name onstage. Looking up from your cards, you heard the tail end of it.

“…is about to switch genres, sitting over there with her new boyfriend.” The crowd around you laughed. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You saw Eddie’s hand in your peripheral vision, saw the middle finger starting to lift, and pushed his hand down. No need to make a scene.

“Quick, Eddie. Don’t get too close!”

Without hesitation, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, and Ronnie all stood up and flipped him off. Ronnie even pointed hers directly at the camera filming your reaction.

The audience gasped while other celebs at tables cheered them on.

What the fuck was happening?

Eddie glanced at you before getting up and stepping onto his chair. Slowly, he raised his middle finger.

The crowds roared, the presenter starting to look embarrassed as the whole room turned into chaos. Dozens of pictures captured their defiance, their retaliation.

And you?

Well, you sat there with a neutral expression, already trained in the art of disguising your emotions. Your lips didn’t hold a smile or a frown, something set in the middle. You controlled your eyes to stay in position, refusing to widen or fall half-lidded. Refusing to look up at your boyfriend.

But inside, you were something else entirely.

Full of rage at the jokes, full of fear at the way Eddie’s whole band went to bat for you. Furious at yourself for being unable to find the will to stand up with them. Terrified at what the world was about to say about it. Humiliated that they felt the need to pull a stunt to a stupid joke you’d heard a million times.

“Woah, woah, guys! Calm down!” the presenter said with a shaky laugh. He was clearly not anticipating what was happening. “It’s all jokes, promise. All jokes. Nice organization, though, truly. Anyways, moving on to the next category. Here presenting the award—”

As everyone sat back down, Jeff and Gareth went back to their game like it was nothing.

You turned to your boyfriend. “Eddie—”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t just let them do that. People have to know that it’s not okay.”

“Eddie, they’re gonna talk about us,” you said, noticing your southern accent bleeding through. Fuck. “Y’all can’t just do that. Think of tomorrow, think of—”

“And the nominees are for Best Pop Album are…”

You had to look away, remember where you were. Because that was your name they were saying up there, yourface they were zoning in on.

And it was you that everyone was looking at as you were declared the winner.

You began standing, Eddie helping to pull out your chair. Turning to him, you thought about kissing him, thought about hugging him. Thought about giving him any sliver of physical affection while the world was watching.

His hand reached out for yours, but you gave him a small smile before dipping your head and walking toward that stage. Alone. Without anyone by your side to help you up the steps. The applause was nearly deafening, the support seemingly louder than before.

But you had to focus, clearing your throat as you took the shiny award, resembling a shard of glass ready to pierce your skin at a moment’s notice. You reminded yourself of where you were, what you were doing. What you had to do. Face the world yet again.

Leaning into the microphone, you began.

“I’d really like to thank my record label for giving me the opportunity to explore new sounds and trusting me with the writing and producing process. Acacia My Dear is obviously a play on the Beatles song and I was so inspired to create an album centered around a fictional version of myself that I created. To tell that story was so euphoric and beautiful.” A few cheers sounded. “My art is what keeps me going and I’ll never stop loving it. Never. Um,” you stumbled, looking back out at the crowd before back at your award.

There were words on your togue.

I’d like to thank Eddie for being so supportive these last five months.

But you only shook your head.

“So, yeah, this is for the fans and the many, many young queer women out there who want to make music. Y’all—” you paused, careful to switch your accent back. “You all can do it and you can be successful.” You lifted the award high into the air. “If I can, you can, too. Thank you.”

You’d made it to the vacant bathroom, made it to the sink in time to feel yourself start to lose it.

This wasn’t the time to lose it.

You couldn’t.

But you were.

Being an outcast in high school was something you had in common with Eddie. While your circumstances differed and you didn’t know much about his past, you knew that you were both given the same nickname. Freak. You weren’t too sure exactly how you were supposed to be much of a freak, but you’d been labeled as such since grade school. It was always something new, from your interests to your appearance to whatever you said or did in class. The punchline to bets made by boys in the name of sheer boredom.

But girls and boys are both cruel. And whoever said boys shouldn’t hit girls never went to your schools. You were pushed into walls. Punched. Called names. Cyberbullied once emailing became a thing. Humiliated on social media once that came around. You were ugly, fat. Freak. A wannabe musician who had no talent. Freak. A loner who sat by herself and wrote during recess because nobody liked you enough to let you to play with them. Freak. Booed when you sang at your talent shows, left uninvited to sleepovers and birthday parties.

Freak.

The only thing you held sacred was your music that you recorded on GarageBand and uploaded to YouTube and Soundcloud, back when all of that was way more popular. It gained traction somehow, your song “High Walls” getting thousands upon thousands of views and praise. A record label saw the spike and took a chance on you, thinking you were talented enough at eighteen to make it big.

And you did.

But you still had nightmares about those days. Spent time in therapy talking about how ridiculous you felt that you were still haunted by teenage girls and boys, all surrounding you with hollering laughter and pointed fingers. How you still heard their words echo in your mind whenever you looked online and saw the vile things being said about you. Still felt the sting of salt in your wounds whenever friends you’d made would stab you in the back.

The sound of heels brought you back to your reality, brought you back to the faint hum of the performance on the other side of the theater. For a moment, you thought that maybe Ronnie or Clara decided to see if you were okay.

But you were disappointed to find some actress you forgot the name of. You recognized her face and nothing more. Her dark hair curled down to her shoulders, showered in golden eyeshadow and body glitter. She recognized you immediately, eyebrows shooting up at the mere sight of you.

But she kept moving to the other side, holding her words back. You knew they were coming, anticipated them as she got settled. Her lips wrapped around a vape, her back and one red pump pressed against the wall.

Crossing her arms, she began her prodding. “Some show, huh?”

You only shrugged.

“Want a hit?”

You looked at her, seeing that the offer was coming from a place of understanding rather than passing judgment or niceties. Because her mouth was scrunched up to the side, like she felt bad for you. Like she was genuinely just trying to figure out how to help.

And though you never really smoked cigarettes all that often, you took it from her and pulled a long drag. Well, maybe too long. The rush of nicotine hit you hard, dizzying before you felt the release. Like you were flying, like you were escaping from whatever hell you were being trapped in. And it was fleeting, the moment ending as soon as the cloud of smoke left your lips.

You handed it back to her. “Thanks,” you said with a breathy laugh. The familiar taste of MAC lipstick lingered on your tongue.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Thinking the interaction was over with, you went back to looking at yourself. Your mind was close to clearing, was so close to being brought back from the brink of madness. If you could just get through the night without another hiccup or mistake, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe if you stayed perfectly calm—

“Eddie Munson, huh?”

You refrained from letting out a scoff, your impulse control not strong enough to keep you from throwing up your hand before it slapped against the counter.

“Yeah. Eddie Munson.”

She noticed your irritation but didn’t get upset. She only watched you, tilting her head as she took another drag.

“What’s he like?”

The question rang in your head, echoing around you like there were a million voices asking at once. Because he was the one that everyone wanted, the one everyone gravitated towards. He was yours but he was also everyone else’s. Even if you could separate the two, could extract him from their narratives and stories, they would still be there. All rallied behind him like an army following blindly in his honor.

But it wasn’t like they would do the same for you, was it? No, you were an outsider to the genre, to the subculture that he was in. You were just some popstar who didn’t get it, didn’t get him. Chasing a momentary high like that drag you took. Here one second, gone the next. Lulling him into the haze before fading into the gray. And you realized that even if you were given the chance to be with him forever, a chance that now seemed extremely slim, you would never truly be the sole person who got to keep him.

Loving him forever comes with a cost.

Looking back at your reflection, you sighed.

“A dream.”

Before you gave her any time to respond, you left.

Your ride back to the hotel was quiet, Eddie’s breathing becoming ragged with every red light they endured. He was worrying you, not even looking you in the eye when you got back to your seat. For the rest of the night. When you got a car together. When you stepped into the lobby. The elevator.

But then Eddie was taking off his blazer, trudging down the hallway, the boom of his combat boots bouncing off the walls.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to keep up.

“You barely even touched me the whole night.”

“Y’all stood up and made a scene!”

“Because he was being a goddamn prick.”

“I know, but that’s why you just don’t give them a reaction! It just causes more attention and then people think you do it because you want attention and then it just gets spun into something it’s not because people love drama—"

“No,” Eddie said harshly, turning around to face you. “I don’t care about that. I don’t care about the fucking internet. I wanted to congratulate you on your win and yet you just walked away. It hurt.”

“What you guys did hurt me. It was unprofessional.”

Eddie stopped then, pausing to really look at you for what felt like the first time since the band stood up.

But he had no time to respond.

“Hey, what the fuck are you yelling at him for?!” Ronnie shouted down the hall, her boots just as loud as his.

She really did look a lot like Eddie, with the same curly hair and hardened stare. The same protective nature, the same wild heart. But her eyes were void of any compassion, any sympathy. She was fucking pissed, and it was only directed at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Did y’all ever think about how I’d feel about it? It was tough enough to publicly sit—”

“I’m so sorry that sitting at a table with your boyfriend and his friends is such a chore for you.”

Behind her, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff approached, their laughter cut short at the intensity of her words. Eyes trained on the scene in front of them. All three men silent, all three men watching the showdown that you didn’t ask to be a part of.

“Ronnie,” Eddie said. It sounded more like a warning, but she was still looking at you, still ready to pounce.

And so, she did.

“You’re a coward,” Ronnie seethed. “You’re lucky to have someone like him and I know you’ll gladly throw it away just because it isn’t the fucking fairytale you imagined. This is real life, sweetie. I know you sit there in your fantasy world with your sugarcoated lyrics and your fake smile. Too afraid to let anyone know how you really feel. Too afraid to hold your boyfriend’s fucking hand. A goody two-shoes who does nothing but cry about how unfair her life is even though you have everything you could ever need.

“You think you’re risking everything for him? For us? No. You’re not risking a goddamn thing if you just sit there and take it. Avoid it. Act like it’s not happening. We stood up for you because we fucking care about Eddie and Eddie cares about you. We didn’t have to do that. We could’ve just let him make fun of you for three more hours and let you get humiliated. But we did that, and I don’t care if you didn’t like it. You needed help. And you’re an idiot for acting like this has anything to do with professionalism.

“You’re nothing but a coward. I can only hope you’ll change your fucking attitude for Eddie’s sake. But if you’re going to keep acting like this, you need to leave him and us the hell alone. Don’t drag someone into your fucking mess if you can’t clean it up.”

You tried not to cry in front of her, tried not to give in to bending and breaking of your soul. Her speech was loud, deafening, ringing in your ears like waves crashing into each other. Instead of replying, you turned and ran into your hotel room and slammed the door behind you. Sobs escaped your lips as you did everything you could to take all that shit off. Threw the boa on the floor. Threw your shoes at the headboard. Let your jewelry land wherever the fuck it wanted.

But your romper was harder, sticking to your skin with the sweat and nerves and—

The door opened, Eddie rushing into the room like it was burning down. And in some ways, it really felt like it. The heat and the sweat and the nerves and the way Ronnie shot those flaming arrows, the way it set your brain afire. The way it was starting to spread.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry about Ronnie. She gets really protective of me; it’s been a thing since we were kids—"

“Maybe this is too much,” you interrupted, “Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone less messy. Less cowardly.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you suggesting we break up?”

“I just,” you started, watching his eyes start to widen. “I don’t know. I feel like your whole life is being thrown into chaos because of me and I don’t want you having to change your whole life or fuckin’ feel the need to defend me on national television. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to Grant and Gareth and Jeff and Ronnie.”

“Baby, I want you, okay? I’m willing to push through the bullshit if it means that I’ll get to fucking see you at the end of the day or week or even month. You’ve changed my life.”

You shook your head. He was lying, he had to be. Or he was living in delusion, riding on that fucking fairytale that Ronnie claimed you’d created. That wasn’t his reality, wasn’t yours.

“You just don’t understand, Eddie!”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “I know this is hard on you. I know. But you’re not the only one hurting, okay? I don’t like this any more than you do, and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re acting like I don’t get it. People call me a man whore or a player or whatever. And even though I recovered, people still think I’m a fucking cokehead. That shit is brutal. I’m not this crazy person who does what all the bands did in the Sixties or Seventies. Hell, even the Eighties and Nineties.”

Your eyebrows pulled in tight at his admittance.

“It sickens me,” he continued, his stare intensifying. “I’m just a loser who got lucky and got out of a shitty small town.” He gestured away from himself. “I’m still that loser. That freak. And I was never given a chance by girls after we blew up—hell, most guys laughed at me. I had to just figure this out for myself, and I,” he gestured back to himself, “have chosen to remove myself from it. Remove myself from that picture they’ve painted for me. And then I found someone who fucking understands.”

As you listened, Eddie’s hand came back down, brushing against yours before weaving your fingers together.

“Someone who sees the world like I do and chooses me despite it being so…so loud. And you have spent your life thinking you have to do this alone. I get it. So did I. But one thing I’ve learned that you haven’t is that you don’t have to do this alone. We got you. I got you.”

“This is going to look so bad for you,” you whispered, tears running down your cheeks.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t care.”

Your head shook for you, rapidly denying his words.

“And the rest of the band.”

His fingers met the back of your head, trying to soothe you as he rubbed circles into the muscles.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes searched his as you tried to make sense of it all, make sense of the fact that he was still here. He hadn’t left. He’s saying things that no one, no one, had said to you before and meant so fervently.

“And me,” you finished, barely above a whisper.

He paused for a split second, long enough for you to catch it before he finally looked away, tucking his lip into his mouth.

His forehead bumped against yours, taking a deep breath. You did the same, breathing him in as you tried to find the will to stay.

To fight.

To keep whatever the hell it was that you had.

“Baby, I want to be with you.” His eyes shot back up to yours, tears collecting in his eyes.

“And I want our privacy. Trust me, I understand how you feel. But I still want to go outside and be as normal as we can. I wanna go get dinner and coffee and do whatever the fuck we want. I want to post a picture of you and dedicate my songs to you and be open and whatever the fuck else I want.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I know you do, baby. That’s why I want you to understand me. I want the same things you do, and I want us to figure out a solution together. I know we can do it. I just know. So don’t…don’t go.”

You closed your eyes, choking on a sob as you tried to make sense of it all. How he could still be here, fighting for you to keep going.

“Eddie…”

His hands clutched onto yours as he sniffled. You felt his tears landing on your skin.

“Stay.”

This was messy. You were messy. A big, huge, ginormous mess that was getting in the way of everyone else’s happiness. Being everyone else’s disappointment. It was only a matter of time before you fucked up and ruined this. Ruined him.

But he’s still there, asking you not to leave.

“Is it really that simple?” you asked.

“Look at me.”

And you did, watching his tears cascade down his cheeks. Watching as his face grew desperate, watching as his lip quivered.

“Please, don’t go. Stay.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!Eddie x popstar!reader #I nearly cried thinking this was the worst thing I'd ever written so I hope I did okay #surprise drop of this chapter lol

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sorenphelps · 9 months

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All the artwork I made for the fanfic Crazy Ex-Boyfriend by @amethystheart2421 for this year's @rsbigbang!

It was a wild run, we got paired up quite late due to our original pairs dropping out of the Bang, and even though it was already December and time was running thin, I decided to make this whole deal a way bigger challenge than it supposed to be... So I ended up drawing all 7 fantasy sequences, trying to mimic a different style for all of them, and finishing both versions of the banners I had in mind. I know, I know, but I swear even I wasn't aware that I am such an overachiever either!

Also, I usually like to hide little details as easter eggs on all of my artwork, so naturally this was the case with these too. I'm gonna list them one by one, also share a little story about each piece, sort of like a "directors cut werk", just so we stick to the screenplay motif. The numbers in brackets lists the order in which I drew the pictures.

The banners (1.,9.): I haven't watched Crazy Ex-Girlfriend the show, so I really had no idea about this whole thing, hence my initial idea of re-drawing one of the official promo posters of the show as the banner. But then Nicole shared the first scene with me when we got paired up, and also told me that her original artist wanted to draw the stargazing scene, which I also really liked. I sketched out both versions to see which one would look better, and also to warm up a bit for this version of the characters. (Nicole also shared some faceclaims, so except Sirius' and Lily's design, I tried to stick to her vision as much as I could.) The Netflix poster was considered the final one for quite a while. The stargazing banner was the last piece of artwork I finished, which I also edited to be used as Chapter dividers. I liked the idea so much I actually referenced the starry sky on the other pictures too. On the Netflix banner, Remus' socks and Sirius' suit handkerchief (how do you call those things in English, gahh) both have the starry pattern.

The western (3.): By this time it was decided that I'd do all fantasy sequences in a different art style, but I couldn't really come up with any specific style which could have fit the western vibes, so the characters are drawn in my own usual style, only the colouring is different. I tried to go for a sepia effect, without using a filter, I think I could pull it off well enough. I was considering to draw Sirius as a Native American for this, because I just don't see him as Caucasian in general, and also, Black Dog sounds like a badly translated indigenous name... But I discarded this idea for the sake of "historical accuracy" (and to save time, haha), as I think they wouldn't visit a saloon this way. I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' handkerchief and... scarf? (I really should learn how certain textil items are called in English...) There is a wanted poster in the background with Voldy. And I swear I didn't mean to draw Remus looking this horny, it just kinda happened by accident! He is sure VERY fascinated by Sirius'... pistol.😜

The Star Trek (6.): My original idea was to draw like usual and just add so many lensflares to the picture that it's not visible if I copied another style or not. But in the meantime I started to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds with my bf and also found out that there is a new cartoon too, so it was then settled. This style is very different from my own, but it was so much fun! It was weird not to draw every single strand of hair in excruciating detail, actually that was the hardest part, haha! I struggled a bit with the placement of the lensflares too, the first version had too many and too bright, it had a disco vibe rather than a spaceship. I wanted to add easter eggs to the background screen, but I was running out of time, so there's only one light blue star similar on the screen! Also now I know that the uniform colors are not really consistent in Star Trek, and Remus’ might have had to be gold as Captain…🤷🏻‍♀️

The Disney (2.): This one sparked the first idea in my head after I read all fantasy scenes Nicole kindly shared with me. When I first sketched this, I still had no idea that I will end up drawing for every chapter and the style copying was not settled either. It started with this piece, I had the vision of the wolf chasing scene from Beauty and the Beast, and we were discussing whether it's plausible to collect berries during the winter or not... I've tried to make the final piece look as classic Disney as I can, and since I could pull it off, it was not a question anymore whether I'd try to do this with other styles for the other scenes. Retrospectively, this one was the easiest to make, apparently my usual style is not that far from Disney (I grew up watching those movies, so it's not a surprise), but I had to really focus on drawing the animals, it's been ages since I last drew any! (The trick is to give them eyebrows, and bam, it's Disney style!) Sirius' armour, clothes and sword has the star, and I also designed his own "crest" with the black dog and a star on his shoulder plate. The whole concept of the picture is Sirius' side being very bright coloured, while Remus' with the scary wolves in the background being very dark. This might have worked better if it was not set in the winter, but I wanted to stick to the Beauty and the Beast vision I had.

The Comicbook (4.): I was very excited for this one, I really like the looks of the old Batman the animated series, and the way some of his comics are drawn. It's such a unique style, I really like the simple shapes and bold contrasts. Well, it turned out I am very bad at this! I struggled quite a bit trying to capture what I had in mind, but I couldn't even come close to it... So I kinda cheated a bit because I just traced the lineart directly from the reference pictures of Batman comic books I found online. I tried to make Remus less buff, but it looked very weird, so I let him keep his muscular Batman body instead. I drew the wolf mask and the whole Sirius panel, and the coloring went smoothly after I finalized the lineart, even though I only realized that I switched the colour schemes of Remus' superhero outfit when I looked up the quotes for the comic panels, oops. Overall I like how it looks, but I am not that proud of it as I had to "cheat".

The Hobbit (5.): I've probably spent the most time with this one! I actually really like Martin Freeman as an older Remus FC, so I was quite excited to do this piece. My original idea was to mimic John Howe's style, as he is the Tolkien illustrator god, but his level of skill and mine are very very far from each other... and as I struggled a lot with the Batman piece, I felt like going for a smaller challenge. That's why I decided to have a go at Alphonse Mucha's art nouveau style. Turned out it was the worst possible idea! 🤣 The whole point of art nouveau is depicting attractive ladies in an ethereal way... But if you switch the ladies with a fat hobbit, the vibe def won't be the same! The first version just looks so extremely absurd, it's both awful and hilarious. By the time I could fix the pose so it wouldn't look as ridiculous, the final style looked nothing like art nouveau... I still have no idea what style it is now, not my own or any of the ones I tried to capture, that's for sure. I considered adding the star pattern to that tablecloth, but I decided that the lupin flowers in the foreground and the whomping willow-like tree are enough reference for this pic! I like how it turned out in the end tho, I think I could do justice for the watercolor-looking coloring technique, and the end result looks a bit like a fancier version of old children's book illustrations... Which is essentially what The Hobbit is, so it all sorted itself out by the end.

The Anime (7.): I like anime (I'm a little picky about them tho), so it was not a question that I would give this style a try! I am a huge fan of cyberpunk (the genre), so initially wanted to do that, I'm such a slut for Ghost in the Shell and I really like the aesthetics of the Akira posters, but after reading the actual scene, it was not really fitting. So I saved the cyberpunk AU for later, and went for the post-apocalyptic vibe instead. Obviously anime had a great influence on my art style, so similar to the Disney one, it was not that much of a challenge to mimic it. However I'm not that good at drawing backgrounds, and oh boy, I really made myself get over this obstacle with this series of pictures! Also as I was more comfortable with this piece, I actually added the starry sky pattern from the beginning to the scarf/blanket Remus has on this picture!

The Sitcom (8.): The original idea was to copy Hanna Barbera's old family cartoons' style, but as my deadline was very close and after reading the scene I realized that it will have a shitton of characters, I quickly abandoned my original plan. So this one is drawn in my own style, sort of, the designs of the characters are more aligned with Nicole's vision (sans Sirius, Lily, and partly Peter). The hardest part was definitely to figure out how I could fit 10 characters into one picture, let alone sitting in a living room! Also, I had to actually draw the living room too, considering perspective and scaling... Something I am not that good at. In the end the coffee table is maybe a little too big, but I needed that to hide the legs of the characters sitting on the sofa, haha! Also, the sofa is the Millennial Dark Green Velvet Sofa, because I also want to have one and it really emphasizes the general existential dread! (Just kidding.) Also also, I just realized that I have no idea how to eat tacos without making a mess (they are not that popular where I live). I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' shirt, and gave a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt to Peter, as he is talking about that in the scene. I wanted to squeeze in further references to the newspaper Remus is holding, but it was too tiny. The star from Knight Sirius' armour is in the background on the bookshelf. Also that globe just makes no sense but I had no better idea how to fill the empty space 😅. Molly is holding a mug with "BEST MOM" written on it, and I intentionally made Marlene's eye colour the same as Remus', who btw should have worn a bathrobe according to the original scene, but it was too late to fix that by the time I realized it. All in all, I am quite satisfied with how it turned out, it has the necessary sitcom vibes. And it is kinda a record for me in terms of number of characters drawn (the most was 12, but that one has no background, so I'd call it a tie!)!! I am very proud of myself for pulling this piece off, it really is the achievement of the year!

TLDR; (I mean really, my rambling is just too long!) I am happy that I was paired up with Nicole, working with her was such a creative process! My absolute favourite thing to do is work on AUs, and she has provided me with the opportunity to do so, I am grateful! It was truly a pleasure to participate in this (even if it's not that clear from all the complaining I just had above, haha)! If you ask me nicely I might show you the cursed first version of the hobbit picture!

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eyesteeth · 1 year

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my thoughts and theories on fionna and cake

so from the trailer alone i’m pretty sure this is going to be very Simon-centric. as established in the main series, Fionna and Cake is genderbend fanfiction written by Ice King. however, it seems likely that the Fionna and Cake focused on in this series will not be the one within Simon’s mind - not fully, anyway.

i initially believed that the Fionna and Cake we see in this series would be entirely figments of Simon's imagination - fanfiction used as a coping mechanism. Fionna's world is realistic and bland and mundane because Simon's "lost the magic in his life", and Fionna's world gaining magic would be a sign of changes in his mental state.

i no longer believe this because i took too many screenshots of the trailer. however, i do think that the Fionna and Cake of Simon's mind will be relevant, and Fionna's world mirroring Simon's is an intentional comparison.

my take is this - Fionna and Cake is going to have an overarching a-plot of Fionna figuring out what's gone wrong with her world and defeating the threat, and a b-plot of Simon facing his mortality and his trauma and coming to terms with both.

that's my tl;dr. long post below.

Simon’s a character with a lot of depth to him, but none of the Distant Lands specials focused on him, so it’s his turn to hold the Trauma Ball. we know that he isn’t immortal anymore with the crown gone. he’s visibly aged in the trailer, growing some white hair, and is wrinklier.

(Tom Kenny also said in an interview that this is the most emotional thing he’s worked on, and Tom Kenny’s been in fucking everything, so you know it’s gonna be big. i cannot for the life of me find the source for this so you're gonna have to trust me on this one.)

aging is clearly gonna fuck Simon up for multiple reasons - beyond the normal stuff, aging means he's going to look like Ice King, making himself a visual reminder of the worst time of his life. he also spent a very long time as an immortal, and adjusting to the idea of death after centuries of being the same age is probably gonna fuck with him.

he’ll also be dwelling on his past - there’s shots in the trailer of him and Marcy together right after the Mushroom War, likely filling in some gaps from that time. we already got a whole episode dedicated to their time together in the main series, so there's no need to tread that ground again - this will likely show new moments with them or recontextualize things with the state Simon's in now.

(there's also a shot of both of their feet but i couldn't fit both sets of shoes on one frame)

then there’s a shot of what’s very obviously a musical number from the in-between state of Simon and Ice King. this could be the first time he puts on the crown (or an early time), resulting a darkly upbeat moment of juxtaposition, or it could be an equally dark current-day moment along the lines of “wasn’t it so nice when you had the crown on and you didn’t have to think about anything? when you were immortal and too out of it to realize how bad of a spot you were in?”

or it could be a secret third thing. keep this image in mind, it'll be relevant later.

as for some miscellaneous screenshots, takes these two:

Simon's coat is missing in the first but he still has it in the second, so either he goes on two separate adventures in Ooo, or the first image takes place after the second. i stand by this being Ooo in the first image because of the trees in the background. as for the second image, that's Finn in the top right, and the treehouse on the left. because of how old Finn looks in the big promo image, i assume this takes place between Obsidian and Together Forever - Jake is dead but Finn is not. Finn and Simon might have a talk about death and dying if the mortality thing gets brought up, or Finn might just be here to help Simon get where he needs to go.

to where they are going, one can only speculate. it might be Prismo's cube, but i'm a little iffy on that. the cube is massively relevant by the way and is likely how Fionna and Cake end up crossing paths with Simon.

because Prismo's whole deal is alternate universes (gestures at Farmworld Finn) i believe that this is how Fionna and Cake come to Ooo. Prismo's cube is even in the logo for this show, it's that important.

(Simon is no stranger to Prismo, we got the above moment in the Adventure Time finale, so him traveling to Prismo with Finn's help is a possibility.)

anyway, time for the people the show is actually named about!

for their side of the plotline, the description of the trailer is quite enlightening:

"Based on characters from the beloved “Adventure Time” franchise, this brand-new 10-episode series set in the land of Ooo follows the alternate universe versions of Finn & Jake on a multiverse-hopping journey towards self-discovery. When Fionna and her sidekick Cake find themselves in the crosshairs of a powerful new foe, they have no choice but to seek the help of former Ice King Simon Petrikov." (emphasis mine)

notably, they are referred to explicitly as alternate universe versions, so they are indeed their own people. i also find it curious that Fionna's life is somehow mundane enough to lack magic, yet wacky enough to have a "powerful new foe". unless that something is actively sucking the magic out of their universe, this particular foe is a mystery to me.

however, because multiverse hopping is mentioned, i believe that the big foe is gonna have ~some weirdness~ about it, possibly attacking universe after universe for its intended goal ala [insert your preferred bagel-based multiverse movie here]. i'd also like to present the following screencaps to the court:

the use of line color, color choice, and shading in between the two on the left and the two on the right are like night and day. so, given the multiverse theme, i propose that these are two different Fionnas - the Fionna and Cake as presented by Simon on the left, and the real magicless Fionna from her universe on the right. alternatively, the one on the left could be Fionna after she comes to Ooo, and she just gets a costume change.

(also, the musical number shot has coloring similar to the set on the right, potentially indicating that scene takes place in the same location/episode/universe/etc as those shots. this is the third secret thing.)

(also also, this is probably way too off the wall to be true, but the ones on the right look incredibly similar to Bee and Puppycat in terms of color, and given that Natasha Allegri is responsible for both Bee and Puppycat and the creation of Fionna, this series could get into ideas of creation, using Simon's Fionna vs the real Fionna as an allegory somehow. i will be shocked if this happens, i think it's just visual flair tbh, i just wanted to get this thought out of my brain)

if this wasn't a spotty post before here's where it gets Real Spotty:

i believe this is Fionna in Ooo, she's in a bunny hat and she's with a kid in Finn's clothes. i believe this is Ooo because of the fire people at the bottom. Fionna is also still wearing the outfit she had on in the bus in the beginning of the trailer, leading me to believe that she gets to Ooo after that set of scenes.

i further believe this is Ooo, because we see the same kid in this shot. that's Simon's leg on the right, muddied up, so this could be after his adventure with Finn. on the left is the Fionna and Cake script in the bin, this being the Fionna and Cake Simon came up with. my guess is that this kid is a fan of the Fionna and Cake Simon came up with and this outfit is a cosplay. maybe he published his fanfiction. good for him.

as for the city behind the closing door...

... maybe it could be this? i'm not sure if this city is on Ooo, frankly. the trees are different. maybe Fionna, Simon, and this kid all went to an alt universe together by accident? and that's why the kid looks so distraught in the shot with the bin?

for my last image-based comment, simon's sleeve has been torn off here (bottom of his-right-our-left arm) so it's possible that whatever muddied his pants in the bin shot also got his coat messed up, possibly his adventure with Finn.

to recap this meandering post

here's an extremely weak guess of plot points from the previously proposed concepts

Fionna lives a normal, bland life, realizes something is wrong, and ends up in Ooo over the course of a day. within this day, she does her job on the bus, sees something's up with Cake, experiences some dimension weirdness, chases Cake at some point, her and Cake end up falling, and then it's Ooo time.

in Ooo, she meets a kid that's a fan of Fionna and Cake - from the stories Simon wrote and published.

Fionna decides she needs Simon's help, possibly because he's apparently written books about her, so they go to get him

meanwhile, Simon's had a bad mental health day and is spiraling.

he ends up in the woods with Finn for some reason, possibly to death talk, and they have an adventure that takes the length of the day. by the end of it, Simon's clothes are torn up and he just wants to go home.

he goes home and sits down for like A Minute before Fionna and the kid show up at his place.

(there is no evidence for this but i feel like seeing the character you made up in your genderbend fanfic irl would be freaky so Simon's like "wow i've fucking lost it i'm hallucinating my oc")

situation gets explained to a very non-receptive Simon

the three/four of them head off onto a multiversal quest with widely varying levels of enthusiasm

over the course of the quest shenanigans ensue and Simon has many moments of contemplation on his past and future

Fionna gets the situation with her home universe figured out

You Will Cry Your Eyes Out

the end

that's all i got. feel free to go crazy in the notes.

#long post #not joking it took over 2 hours to get all this down #adventure time #fionna and cake #adventure time fionna and cake #analysis

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mylovejimimi · 11 months

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SNEAK PEEK | A MINIMONI STORY PT 1

— PAIRING: boyfriend!jimin x fem!reader x friend!namjoon x ??? — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: smut, dirty dirty talk (jimin's a menace), vaginal sex, oral sex (m receiving), not as much fluids as the last one lol but still fluids, riding, accidental vouyerism, talks of kinks, mentions of gang bang, jimin calls reader mean names, jimin and reader are in fluffy love, SOME plot — SUMMARY: It's your sweet, loving boyfriend's turn to plan your weekly date, and his sweet, homey plan comes with an exciting surprise in the form of a friend that he totally forgot was crashing at his place. — WORDS: almost 5k This one is like the holy scripture compared to the tae and jk one lmaooo but don't forget there's gonna be a part 2!!!!! promise to make it worse <3don't be shy and tell me what you think about my works! also i lied and say i would post it last night but my first draft didn't save <3 i love technology <3333 please remember you can send me a tip by buying me a ko-fi if you like this stories, it will meant the world to me and it will help me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Enjoy !

Whenever your schedules coincide, you and Jimin always made sure to have a date. Today was no exception.

Having an idol boyfriend, it was never an easy task to find time to spend together. And to have quality time, on top of that; a moment when he wasn’t too tired or overworked, or even anxious, and could engage in conversations or activities with you as his stress-free, lovely self. You always understood and supported him because that was his passion after all – though it never got any easier to watch him be away in tours or stay in the city but be unreachable, busy every second of the day. Also, you worked too, a less glamourous job of course, but a lot of times you had to give up your free time for some extra-hours or documents to finish at home.

Luckily for you, the boys just wrapped up the promos for their latest comeback, which meant they were relatively free for a couple weeks. It was Jimin’s idea to have a date every week, as long as he wasn’t required to work 24/7, to make up for past or future time apart.

So, it was a late Friday night and both of you lazed around in Jimin's apartment. You two loved going out and about the city, doing whatever activity you could think of, but since it was your boyfriend’s turn to plan the date – and he had been feeling like a homebody lately – he decided to have a chill night with you, the love of his life. You cooked, laughed, drank, danced around a little to his songs and now you were drinking again, sitting on the mat in between the sofa and the coffee table, chatting while soft music played in the background.

“It was an awful fit to be ever seen wearing! Whoever told you it looked good was lying” you laughed out loud at your boyfriend’s frown, before downing what was left of a bottle of soju, one of the many that you and Jimin already drank. You had the capacity to hold gallons of alcohol if you wanted; Jimin often joked that was what made him fell in love with you.

“It was you who told me I looked hot! I sent you a mirror pic and you replied with fire emojis” Jimin accused you with an offended pout, pushing you playfully and, in your tipsy state, making you fall fully on the ground. You giggled.

“I surely wasn’t in my best moment. Must had been one of those weeks of forced celibacy you make me go through when you release music, and thirst possessed me.” Jimin rolled his eyes with a little smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You get horny just like the rest of us, you’re not special.” You felt giddy and fuzzy inside because of both the alcohol and Jimin’s company. Goddamn, how you loved that man. Couldn’t help your big smile, heart in your eyes.

“Like the rest of you? You have no idea the depths and length of my horniness.” You started to draw random patterns on his thigh with your finger but kept staring adoringly into his eyes, always bold and teasing around him. With a hint of a smirk, he arched an eyebrow at your words and actions.

“Oh my God, right now too? You’re a horndog!” Jimin laughed heartily, pushing you again. You laughed along joyously, feeling happier than you ever been. You were sure you would never love a person the way you loved Jimin.

“Can you blame me? My boyfriend is way too hot.” Despite the dying laughter, Jimin, always up for flirting, had a smug expression that could be only mean problems. Sitting side by side, you only needed to crane your necks a little to be inches away from each other’s face, which was so helpful to your playing. You smirked, whole body facing Jimin’s now and buzzing with alcohol and imprudent ideas.

“Praising me for free? You’re totally too horny for your own good right now. But you’re right, I’m hot.” His smile got bigger and bigger the closer he got to you, stalking you slowly in the manner a predator about to attack his prey would. Soon enough, you could feel his breath caressing your lips: sweet with the fragrance of the flavored drinks, warm and intoxicating. Your eyes found his and in them you saw the glossy filter of alcohol mirroring yours, but the desire in his blown-out pupils was beyond comprehension. Your boyfriend was a menace – for you more than for anybody else. “And my girlfriend is hot as hell as well.”

“I am.”

“And we’re both very drunk.” Your heart accelerated in a second, just feeling the heat that radiated from Jimin and his gaze on your lips. And you knew Jimin was no better, if the ragged breaths escaping his mouth was any giveaway. “And we’ve been apart from each other for so long already.”

Call it a signal from the universe or simply your guts instincts being one step ahead of you, but a ray of clarity downed upon you carrying a possibility that, while it turned you on a bit, wasn’t completely right. Before taking things further, you frowned slightly.

“Baby wait, we’re in the living room, what if Taehyung or Jungkook just drop by without notice? They know the code for the door.” Jimin just shrugged, giving no importance to the very real, very probable problem. You, on the other hand, were too aware of it, remembering all the times you were there and any of the boys – usually the maknaes – would just walk in. Your boyfriend did not back off though; he just tilted his head playfully.

“Why does it matter? Everybody had seen us before at some point, and, like, this is my home. Plus, we’ll hear the door if anybody comes in.” Finally, he moved just the littlest bit so his lips could move yours whenever he talked. Jimin stared intensely into your eyes, speaking in this sultry, seducing tone that was so unique to him. “It’s been so long, baby, and I need you so much right now. I can’t even think of anything but having you right this moment. We’d waited long enough, my love.” And he closed the distance with a fervent kiss. You were never strong enough to fight his kisses, much less when you wanted it as much as him.

It always amazed you just how synced up you and Jimin were; but, well, everybody said all the time how right you were for each other for a reason. He knew exactly how deep to kiss, how fast or how sweet, and, of course, how to touch all the magical parts of your body to make you go feral. And you knew all of him too – but the truth is that both of you shared a lot of likes in every aspect of life, including intimacy. So, you knew he liked as much tongue as possible and as desperately as one can make it. Also, he liked to be touched everywhere at all times, because his body tended to get so sensitive, so brittle to your hands when he was turned on. Jimin loved feeling adored, and you loved to adore him.

He settled his hands on your ass, pulling until you were straddling him. Not missing a single beat, Jimin moved his lips to your throat, making sure to bit and kiss the most sensible spots. You gasped and whined and said things that Jimin couldn’t hear well with all the blood rushing in his ears. Then, all of a sudden, you gripped his hair in a fist and tugged his head backwards, away from your neck, because you knew he loved to roughhouse too. Jimin could clearly see the arousal and drunkenness swimming in your eyes, and he knew he must look just the same, but it was okay because you had been together long enough to be very acquainted with the wildest part of each other. Now it was your turn to attack his neck, and Jimin couldn’t help but think how good you were at it, surely more skilled than him. He groaned and whined loudly as the kisses became sucking and light nibbling everywhere; it went from his neck to his jaw to his ear and all the way down again, always mindful to avoid leaving too noticeable marks on the flesh.

At some point, he began grinding his crotch into whatever part of your body it could grind into, becoming impatient and whiny, so you stopped and left his neck to grip his jaw and look into his eyes. Only then, both of you realized what a mess of red lipstick you were.

“Who’s domming?” You asked, panting. As an answer, Jimin whined more and pouted, making you giggle. “You pretty, spoiled pillow bitch. You will have to do all the dirty work on your own someday, you know.” And you got back to work.

Not much time passed between the teasing and the doing, both of you needing to satiate the constant thirst you had for the other. You two were so high on arousal and desperation, aided by the alcohol, that you skipped the step of taking the clothes off. Jimin lowered his sweatpants to his upper thigh to get his girthy cock and heavy balls out, and then lowered your camisole enough to get your breasts out too, because he was obsessed with them.

“Baby –” you breathed when you took a hold of his member and felt how hard he was. He thrusted mildly and unconsciously, groaning when you tightened your hold on him. The precum his tip was leaking started to cover your fingers once you started fisting him, and you couldn’t resist the temptation: you released his member to take your hand to your mouth and lick his fluids away, making a show of it all for your boyfriend, who groaned loudly.

Before taking your hand down again, you licked your palm, but this time, instead of his cock, you took both of the man’s balls, playing with and gripping them. Jimin threw his head back on the sofa, moaning in a high pitch and tightening his grip on your hips, surely imprinting his fingers on the skin. Once again, you took his cock and got up your knees before moving out of the way your skirt and underwear. You were so wet that your folds squelched when you separated them to descend on your boyfriend, impaling yourself on the meaty, delicious member of his. The stretch left you breathless for a moment, because Jimin was large enough to fill you up fully even if he wasn’t hard. To get you out of the discomfort, he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss, guiding you to move slowly on him and taking the liberty of put his thumb on your clit. You moaned, and mere seconds later, you were bouncing on your own, increasing speed and clenching your insides sporadically. Your boyfriend, in return, pushed you back down when you bounced up until you both found the perfect rhythm.

You two were too immersed in your own world; too consumed by pleasure to hear the distinct sound of the door lock being unlocked and the footsteps that followed.

“You’re my bitch, got it? This ass is only mine to fuck,” Jimin exhaled close to your mouth, trying to keep his eyes focused on you moving face. You whimpered but nodded. “I will use you like the cockslut you are, whenever I want to and however I want to. And with whoever I want to.” He thrusted up with vigor, clearly liking the idea of sharing you. “Can you imagine it? To get fucked by me and then by any of my friends? Or all of them, because I know the greedy whore you are.” And he made you gasp out loud by biting your nipple and suctioning it. You panted open-mouthed now, forcing your eyes to stay open and watch how your boyfriend went from one nipple to the other, and then to insert his tongue shamelessly in your mouth.

You almost lost your mind at the way he licked filthily your wet insides, but the idea of being shared was pushing stronger. It was no secret to your boyfriend that one of your deepest fantasies was to be shared by several people, submitting to them, being at their mercy; and despite the natural jealousy that arose in Jimin at the beginning, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head for days. He thought about it so obsessively that he got desensitized to jealousy, and, at one moment, he found himself getting hard and needing to jerk off to the made-up image of you being used by multiple people. So, it became his fantasy too.

“You always wanted that, to get passed around like a pretty toy, cock after cock fucking this useless pussy.” Jimin chuckled with gritted teeth, getting more turn on by his own words. You whined loudly, just as loud as Jimin was talking – because he simply couldn’t regulate his voice while fucking –, which was pretty loud for anybody else in the room to hear. And there indeed was someone hearing and watching you from the entrance. Not like any of you realized though. “You know what else a filthy slut like you wants? To choke on cocks. To get your pretty face fucked rough. To have cum dripping from your mouth and still get your throat fucked over and over again. And I know you want to choke on my members’ cocks, don’t you? Get on your knees for the seven of us, suck dry the cocks of those friends that think you’re just my cute, little girlfriend; their pretty, dumb friend.” Jimin hissed with a particular tight squeeze, so close to release. He gripped your hair, tight, and pushed your face closer to his. “Who is the spoiled pillow bitch now?” And he kissed you, knowing both of you were mere moments away from the best orgasm of the year.

And then, a phone rang strepitously right there in the living room, some meters away from where you were. And you knew it was neither yours nor your boyfriend's.

Both you and Jimin jumped in your places, separating from each other's body once you saw a blushing and frantic Namjoon hurriedly looking for his phone in his pants. With one hand, Jimin hurried to help you fix your bra and top that were half off your body, while with the other hand, he tried to put himself inside his own pants as hastily. As if Namjoon hadn't been watching your passionate encounter for the last five minutes.

Your head? Empty, come back later. Your body? Burning with shame and, well... other things had arisen too.

“J-Joon” you started, still out of breath, but you had nothing else to say. You just stared at your friend, who arrived at the perfect time to see you being dommed.

By your peripherical vision, you saw your boyfriend getting red in the face, expression twisted into pure fury.

“Yah! You –“ And he stopped himself in his tracks, staying completely still for a second and then clearly his throat, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. It was completely weird for Jimin to stop himself from berating someone, being the most argumentative man ever as he was.

What the fuck is going on?

“S-sorry you had to watch us, Namjoon” he said calmly but still harsh. Overcoming quickly the initial surprise and change of behavior, Jimin showed his friend he definitely didn’t like the unconsented voyeurism.

Namjoon, on the other hand, was petrified in place, holding both of his friends’ stares. Mind completely blank, he couldn’t think of any excuse or justification, not even the very real reason he was there.

“It’s, uh, it’s okay. I didn’t see much.” He wanted to slap himself for saying that. It implied he had seen at least a little. “I just arrived, really didn’t see or hear anything. No big deal.” And then both you and Jimin saw it – the proof that Namjoon saw some and heard some and he even liked some. The bulging in the front of his sweats wasn’t that obvious but it definitively was there, where it wasn’t in everyday happenings. You both got visibly surprised, maybe a little aroused too, but said nothing. Instead, you two, in all your lipstick-messed glory, stared Namjoon in the eye with some sort of dignity.

“I would have appreciated it if you hadn’t seen anything or said something or go somewhere else.” Jimin was always borderline aggressive when he thought something was inappropriate; and, though you didn’t always agree with this approach, you stood by him on this one because he was right.

“But I told you we shouldn’t do this here in the open,” you whispered, a little ashamed. Namjoon blinked, speechless.

“I-I…” He swallowed and inhaled deeply. “You’re right, I’m sorry I watched you and I’m sorry I interrupted too.” He said all of that sporting the brightest color of red ever seen in someone’s face. “I forgot both of you would be here and that you both do these things. I should have called before coming, sorry.” Jimin was totally satisfied with that reaction but you were not. You felt bad that Namjoon was putting all the blame on himself when you had a feeling something like this could happen and did nothing.

“It’s okay, Joon. Just… don’t watch us without asking ever again.” Though it did feel a little hot. Being caught was one of the many fantasies you and Jimin shared, and you knew that Jimin felt as aroused and excited as you. But he was sterner than you and so, he was the one that put the ruthless mask on and delimited the boundaries to all the people outside your relationship.

“Ask you?” Namjoon asked in utter disbelief, like he was hearing the craziest nonsense ever. He could ask? He could watch? You and Jimin looked at each other. Of course he could watch. Any of them could watch, if they wanted. You both discussed it a million times; if any of Bangtan, six of them being single and unlucky, approached the couple seriously, they had no reason to tell them no. You trusted them a lot, and it wouldn’t necessarily ruin the friendship; not if they didn’t make it weird.

“Well, if you want to do something that involves other people, you usually ask if they’re OK with it.” And yet Namjoon couldn’t believe what his group member was saying. He felt weird. So weird that his nervous system was firing all alarms. His heart started beating faster than when he came home to the image of two of his friends doing each other. He felt so overwhelmed suddenly.

“Okay,” he said, before spinning on his heels and almost running to Jimin’s spare room. You were confused. Why did Namjoon go to that room instead of getting out of the house?

“This damn dumb bitch interrupted us in the best moment.,” Jimin grumbled, upset.

“Babe, why is Namjoon here?” you inquired harshly, crossing your arms. Jimin pursed his lips and looked at you with his big, puppy eyes. You didn’t buy it. “Jimin, were you the one that made Namjoon come tonight?” Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, baby, but – Wait, wait! I didn’t ask him to come! I just let him come!” he explained in a rush when he saw you open your mouth to yell at him. “There’s a problem with the water system at his building and I told him he could crash here for a couple nights. He is out all the time so I totally forgot he was sleeping here this week.” You scoffed.

“You’re dumb, did you know that?” Jimin just giggled at your response. It was an accident, so there was nothing to get angry at. You grinned at him, playing with his fingers. “Can we finish what we started now?” But he grimaced at that.

“I don’t know how to feel about fucking you after what happened. I mean, is one thing to fantasize about it and other completely different to experience it without consent.” Jimin didn’t look convinced. You appreciated so much how tactful he was about the situation.

“You’re right, baby, maybe let the shock pass first.” You squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. “But would you, at least, let me help you? As a reward for being a good friend.” He smirked, and passed his arms around your waist to hug you to his body.

“How could I say no to a reward?” …

And just as fast as you agreed, you were on Jimin’s bed. Currently, your boyfriend was laying on his back, sweats on his mid thighs, with you kneeling by his side and pumping him with all your heart. And yet, he was fixated on the ceiling, barely reacting to the stimulation.

“Man, why the fuck are you just laying there? I’m giving you a hand job right now,” you huffed, frustrated with the indifference your boyfriend showed toward your efforts. “If you want a blow, you just have to ask, you know.” You stopped all movements and Jimin finally focused on you, coming back from being lost in his head.

“Sorry, babe, you’re amazing as always. I just can’t stop thinking about what happened.” He sat up, now being face to face to look you closely.

“Well, same. It was awkward but also kinda hot.” Jimin nodded a little absent-minded.

“He seemed surprised that you said he should ask.”

“It’s not every day that two of your friends indirectly invite you to watch them have sex, though.” At that, Jimin arched an eyebrow, playful all of a sudden.

“So you were inviting him, huh?” You blushed.

“I mean, yeah. Wasn’t that what we wanted? Did I read your eyes wrong?” Jimin, once more, got closer to your face like a menace, until you were millimeters from touching.

“So, you really plan on having him watch while you’re getting fucked mercilessly, in every way, in full dom/sub display? I bet you would like to get dicked down by him too.” He smiled and you felt your heart racing. What was your boyfriend implying?

“Uh, I don’t know? I mean, sounds… Yeah.” You really tried to form a rational sentence, though it was difficult with all your thoughts all over the place. As an avid over-thinker, you needed three to five business days to sit down and dissect the whole situation from beginning to end to sort out your opinions. “And what about you? Would you be fine by that? Would you also like to get some of his dick?”

“Nah, love. I don’t think it flows like that between us. Would be super embarrassing to bounce on his lap and go to a company briefing with him the next morning.” And he smirked deviously at you. “But it wouldn’t be weird watching him thoroughly giving it to you. Or should I say, hammering it into you.” He extended his arm and fondly caressed the side of your face. “Mmh, I think the shock had already passed because I just unlocked a new fantasy. Baby, I really, really need to see you being fucked into dumbness by him” he expressed with a pout, like begging you to give it to him. “I can attest he has a horse dick too.”

“Jimin!”

“And I think it will help me to shut up that annoying ego of yours for once; you’d been domming for too long and need humbling” he added to tease you. You frowned at the teasing; frowned even deeper at the weird list of cons of fucking Namjoon that your boyfriend just gave you.

"You’re getting a little too brave for a man with his dick in his vengeful girlfriend’s hand,” you told him lowly, narrowing your eyes and gripping said dick harder. Jimin took a sharp breath but smiled anyways.

“That’s it, babe, that’s how I like it. Just tug a couple times more while I imagine Namjoon folding you into two and fucking you to tears.” You scoffed and pinched Jimin’s nipple, way too hard to be pleasurable.

“Ow! But I’m being honest!” Jimin complained with a laugh.

“If you want me to blow you, stay fucking quiet, whore” you warned Jimin, getting comfortable on your knees. Your boyfriend helped you by taking your long hair in a makeshift ponytail in one hand. And you did exactly what you said.

As always, Jimin was loud and, at times, rough. Whenever you bobbed up, he only let a second pass before push your head down on his cock again. He lived for hearing you gagging and choking on him. And, as expected, he loved it messy and with a lot of saliva involved.

“Holy fuck, this mouth is amazing, baby, just like your pussy. Dirty little bitch, where did you learn to deepthroat this good? Is because you used your whore mouth on many cocks? I bet that’s why.” With each word, Jimin thrusted his hips against your mouth rougher. He was very aware of your limits and knew that his words and movements were making you drip. “Those late nights waiting for me in the company? I bet you spend them being used by the guys. Whose cocks do you slobber, you fucking cumdump? Yoongi hyung’s? Hobi hyungs’s?”

Your eyes welled up just as your pussy creamed the skimpy panties you wore for Jimin. Though you had a pretty dominant and defiant personality, you became fully submissive from time to time to humor boyfriend. Like in that moment, when you let him control your head by taking fistfuls of your hair to make you gobble his cock however he wanted. His balls hit your chin each time he snapped his hips up, and, since all that movement made it very difficult for you to keep your saliva in your mouth, most of it ended up falling towards Jimin’s body, dampening his testicles and inner thighs.

“Ah, I know -shit- you act all innocent but you let Namjoon use your mouth every night, like the disgusting slutty toy you are.” He was really close; you could tell by the precum that his cock leaked on your tongue and how his member throbbed. You looked up at him and catched him devouring you with his eyes, plump lower lip tucked between his teeth (and you couldn’t help internally melting at his cute crooked front tooth). On the other side of the blowjob, Jimin felt his abs flexing uncontrollably while he fixed all his attention on you, the most perfect being that ever existed. You were a sight for his sore eyes, with that fucked up face he loved – the only thing that could make him come in seconds. “Oh fuck, I won’t stop thinking about his come dripping from your mouth. Shit, shit, shit—”

Despite having your mouth way too full and roughed, you moaned to assist your boyfriend in cumming. The thrusts became erratic and a loud, long moan left Jimin’s lips when he threw his head back to finally let go, coating your mouth and throat. He pushed your face against his crotch and held you there tightly until he stopped coming. In a couple seconds more, his breathing was steadier and he could let go of your poor head.

You lifted yourself slowly and breathed deeply, composing yourself despite being a mess of tears, saliva and cum. Wiping some off with the back of your hand, you looked pointedly at Jimin, who just raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“You’re getting a little too insistent with this me and Namjoon thing. Are you really that fucked up? That you would enjoy the emotional torture of seeing me with someone else? Do you have a kink about being cheated on?” Even with a rough voice, Jimin understood what you said instantly, and his response was a roll of eyes and a snort.

“Don’t be an idiot, I just find it hot, ok? I DO NOT want you to leave me for him.”

“So hot that you had to talk about it so detailly to cum?” You helped to get his pants back on their place before fishing one shirt you found nearby to clean your face. Jimin admired you for a moment, hands behind his head.

“Yes.” He smiles brightly. “And I’m serious when I say I need to see you get fucked by him. It’s, like, vital for me right now.” It was your turn to snort. “Maybe all of us could benefit from his stay here.” Eyes drooping, you rested your body on his, using his chest as your pillow. Too many things happened in the span of an hour and just now all the alcohol intake had its effect of making you sleepy. Whatever other things Jimin said, you missed them after giving your veredict:

“Maybe.”

#jimin smut #namjoon smut #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin one shot #bts smut #namjoon one shot #bts one shot #bts x reader #Jimin #namjoon #Jungkook #Taehyung #Jhope #Hoseok #Suga #Yoongi #Jin #Seokjin

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w-248 · 10 months

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((Some season 7 theories and predictions))

((Now I'm raging like an erupting volcano because procreate deleted my fanart I'm throwing some theories about what was the season and what we should expect last episode. Again, I tagged things if you want to be spoiler free.))

((One theories about the 3 characters behind Rick for the poster promo is each of them represent a lesson Rick needed to learn to face whatever happens last episode.))

((I also think they prepared the poster to give some hints. See in drawn in finger some things I think I got:))

(( First let's talk about the 3 main characters behind Rick))

((From what I gathered, each of them were a lesson Rick had to learn to order to allow himself to progress. It seems from right to left the order of lessons fit but usually for American/European standard you would read left to right for older to future, so I wonder if this reverse order has a meaning? Like some from the past and some from the future?))

((The lessons I think Rick had to learn are:

Poopybutthole: Rick needs to care better about people he already cherishs (I think?)

Prime: revenge is not and shouldn't be a fullfilling ending for your life. Or at least revenge doesn't resolve everything.

Bigfoot: because some being aren't as intelligent as you want them to be or as you vision intelligence doesn't mean they aren't intelligent and you shouldn't underestimate them or treat them poorly.

((Note Prime is the biggest one, so I think the most important lesson Rick needs to learn is this one.))

((Not how the 3 are shaped like a triptych? Often used to represent a story on 3 parts which can be used as represent the narrative: the beginning, the present and the end. In christianity when they represent jesus he ends up sacrifying himself for the well being of others.))

((Also thought, from what I remember christian triptychs often represent the most important in the middle while the ones on the sides are details.))

((I also like they look like ghosts. It makes me think of the christmas tale where Scrooge being an horrible person is visited by 3 ghosts showing the past, the present and the future. Still theories, but I like the fact in the poster they don't look present or even real!))

((Now those lessons are learned, Rick needs to jump in the unknown - not a concept hole, a real hole- and oh damn, related to Morty maybe? I'm so excited.))

#rick and morty #r&m #rickandmorty #rick and morty season 7 #rick and morty season 7 spoilers #season 7 spoilers #season 7 #spoilers

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wolfspurr · 2 years

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Hey! Your writing is amazing!! Do you have any Sterek fic recs?

Thank you so much 💖! I have absolutely loads of recs - way more than I could possibly fit in one post - but here's a little selection of things that I've read or re-read recently for you. It's a mixture of genres, some are classics, others are newer, but I loved them all. In no particular order, here you go:

No Superman by WhoNatural - E, ~48k words

Scrubs AU. I've never seen Scrubs, but if this fic is anything to go by I probably should. This is one of those fics that I'll re-read every time I see it linked somewhere. If you're into medical dramas, this is a great one. A+

A Functioning Adult’s Field Guide to Enemies With Benefits by BisexualGoblin - E, ~31k words

A delicious case of enemies to lovers, with a boatload of misunderstandings and a hefty case of pining idiots. Love it.

The Importance of Turning Around Three Times Before Lying Down by Otter - M, ~31k words

I'm a sucker for fics where Stiles unwittingly ends up looking after a dog that is very much not a dog, but a Derek. This one is excellent.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by Entanglednow - M, ~25k words

There's just something about a fic where Derek is feral and Stiles is the only one he trusts to get near him. I think this is one of the very first Sterek fics I ever read, and it still hits just right.

A (Sort of) Fairytale by Briecheesie - M, ~25k words

Fox Stiles. It's a classic, and it's so good.

Introduction to Zero-Sum Anthropology by Apocryphal - T, ~19k words

Derek Hale deserves nice things. But he cannot simply accept them, so a war of gift-giving must be in order. So so cute.

this dance of days by Imprintofadream - M, ~28k words

We've got Firefighter Derek, we've got Deputy Stiles, we've got wildfires and a delicious bit of slow burn. These are all good things, and they add up to something pretty excellent. 10/10.

I'm Not Asking Questions, I'm Taking My Chances by Keldjinfae - E, ~80k words

Let's get a bit of fantasy going here! Stiles is the prince of a kingdom where supernatural entities are banished, Derek is a werewolf with a mission to complete. It's not a Merlin AU, but if you're into Merlin I'm pretty sure you'll love this (and I am very much into Merlin, so obviously I loved it too). The plot had me hooked, and once I started reading I could not stop. 100% recommend.

DILF by Twentysomething - E, ~30k words

I'm not always the biggest one for kid fic, but this one is excellent. Stiles is a kindergarten teacher, Derek is a single parent to his two nephews. There's slow burn and a wolf sanctuary, and some impromptu howling. And Derek is, indeed, a DILF.

The Lawn Ranger by Snowjob - M, ~47k words

High school AU. It's summer, Stiles is a jock with a broken arm and a crush, Derek is the werewolf who gets roped into mowing his lawn. All. Good. Things.

Where the Real Beasts Are by Kaistrex - E, ~109k words

Do I love Stiles as a prince? Yes. Yes I do. Long and plotty and excellent. There are evil Argents, there are direwolves, there's some wonderful slow burn. All things that we love.

Bogarted by HalfFizzbin - M, ~3k words

Hilarious. Just A+. Derek is hit by a film noir curse, and it's just as perfect as you would imagine.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll - E, ~77k words

It's a classic, and I can't not rec it. Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they're held captive together. Read it. If you've already read it, heck, why not read it again?! I certainly will.

Wild Horses by ThePsychicClam - E, ~79k words

Ranch AU. Derek is a drifter that ends up at the Stilinski's failing ranch. I love this one. It has all the wonderful slow-burn UST goodness that I love, plus horses! 10/10 would recommend.

Can I rec my own fic? It feels kind of self-aggrandising, but I'm proud of it and I'm not above giving myself a little promo. I'll call it a bonus item and just leave it at the bottom here:

Way Down We Go by Wolfspurr - E, ~50k words

I wrote it! If you like stuff set around S3B, post-Nogitsune healing, and slow burn roadtrip fic, I hope you'll give this one a chance 💖

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #fic rec #sterek fic rec #sterek fic #fanfic #fic #asks #recs #my recs

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lemotmo · 2 months

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So I’ve been thinking…. It seems pretty apparent at this point that LFJ has not been updated to main character status as his fan cult insisted he would. I know that it’s early in filming and he will most likely be around at some point, but certainly not as much as they wanted.

To me, and I think many people in the fandom the writing for Buddie is on the wall. I don’t think journalists would be bringing it up, all the promotions would be involving Ryan, etc if it wasn’t that. There’s a lot of proof around already, showing us and reminding us that last season was setting up Buddie. But I don’t have to tell you that. I know you see it, too.

All that being said, when LFJ is inevitably either not on screen at all, or around for very few scenes and then dumped like the trash that he is, his fans are most likely going to revolt. I mean. They’re already kinda scary and way over the top. With him officially gone, I wonder what they’ll do…. So, do you think he should speak up and address his fans? Address what he did to cause all of this pandemonium? Or will he simply ignore it and move on? Because I worry if he isnt careful that these people will continue to follow his career and wreak havoc wherever he goes, which is just making him look bad. What do you think?

That's a really good question Nonny.

First, it's obvious to anyone with eyes that Lou was never going to get the main character status. This was something that only the radical BT stans believed anyway. 911 already has a lot of main characters and they often have trouble fitting all of their storylines in a single season. They aren't going to add any more main characters.

And even if they would, it certainly wouldn't be Lou. It would be Tracie or Anirudh. They have been on the show longer, have a bigger audience that loves them and they are very popular. The audience only got to see about 20 minutes of Tommy in season 7 alone. That's not very memorable. And yes, I know there was some Tommy in season 2 as well, but let's face it... no one remembered him. I know I didn't. I had to look him up.

I definitely see the Buddie-writing on the wall. It's all there. It started in season 2, but they ramped it up in season 7. The promo was crazy. And once again, they have started it up again. It's very focused on Ryan and Eddie right now, because his story will be the most important in order for Buddie to happen. Buck is already out of the closet. Everyone is just waiting for Eddie now.

I do think we have to brace ourselves for another few Tommy appearances in season 8. This story is too important to be messed up by one single guest actor. He will be there because that's what the story requires. Whether we like it or not, Tommy is a part of the Buddie storyline. He is the guy (read: plot device) that helped Buck out of the closet. Tommy has to play his part in order for Buck to get closer to seeing Eddie as a romantic option.

Do I want to see Tommy back? No, definitely not. Because yes, it will cause problems in the fandom. As soon as it becomes clear that Buck and Tommy aren't going to last very long, there will be those who will start yelling, shouting and generally start being obnoxious.

As for Lou speaking up? No, I don't think he'll even address them anymore. It's obvious that someone has talked some sense into him. It could be a joint effort by Tim, the show, his management, his friends, even the other show he frequently comes back to: SWAT. Whoever it was, they made sure he realised that a cult-like fanbase like that is not a good thing for his career.

So no, I don't think he will speak up. He'll continue to bury his head in the sand in the hopes this will all blow over and the hardcore Lou/Tommy stans will give up and move on. And really, I don't think there's anything else he can do at this point. Whatever he will say, will be misinterpreted and used against either him or other people, in this case: the cast of 911 and the more sane and normal BT and Buddie fans.

The only thing I think he should do, is publicly apologise for those very racist and bigotted instagram posts he made. Because it would only be right to do so and those posts really are a stain on his resume right now. It's all out there on the internet to find. But again, I don't think he will do any such thing.

And yeah, you're right. These radical fans might just follow him to whatever project is next. But ultimately, he is the one who created this problem in the first place, so maybe he should just reap what he sowed.

¯\(ツ)/¯

#nonnies galore #insight into 911 fandom & season 7 and 8 #BT fandom #Not tagging any actors or characters for obvious reasons.#My inbox already had more than enough disrespectful and unwelcome visitors.

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intuitive-revelations · 3 months

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Some notes on Tales of the TARDIS: The Pyramids of Mars (some finale trailer spoilers included)

We don't get as much interesting stuff in the framing device here, for obvious reasons, but there's still some stuff to talk about.

Surprised they still used the stock backgroud / TARDIS cgi for this Tales of the TARDIS episode. I would have thought they would have something new/more specific to the next episode.

I'm very interested in the decision to have Fifteen and Ruby here. Out of universe I get it, what with Elisabeth Sladen being gone, and who knows if Tom would have able/willing to do something with a different actor (and who would you bring in even if he were? Luke?). But the in-universe placement is interesting. I would have assumed it was just a framing device, but we know we're going to see the Memory TARDIS in the finale. I'm guessing there will be a scene with them in the Memory TARDIS where Fifteen briefly explains what Sutekh is, and the Tales of the TARDIS bookends will basically be a deleted scene that fits into that?

There's actually some evidence for this. As we zoom in, the TARDIS doors seem to be open, which might fit with those trailer scenes of the Doctor looking out at Earth, plus the one of him screaming. However, Mel was there in the trailer, so I'm guessing we're going to be in and out of the Memory TARDIS quite a bit next episode.

I noticed those subtle camera glances from Ncuti as he's talking about Four and Sarah Jane :)

People have already commented on it, but I like the anti-colonialist reframing of the story.

As for the omnibus story itself, the editing was generally good. I don't know the original serial enough to spot everything they did, but I did kinda miss the Victoria reference at the beginning.

Interesting decision to replace the Time Corridor effects with the modern Time Vortex. Kinda makes sense in some ways, plus probably helps explain how Sutekh ends up in the Void without needing other stories. Super missed opportunity not using the graphics from the Season promo photos though, which people pointed out as being very reminiscent of the time tunnel.

As someone always eager, usually in vain, for 'canon' to fit together, I'm super intrigued by the mention of Sutekh having "evolved into a Titan" since Pyramids. (Interestingly, the iPlayer titles capitalised this. I found it a bit interesting, since in the context of gods, it immediately bring to mind Greek mythology, but that would be an odd choice to combine with the Egyptian/Christian inspired Sutekh.)

(Actually small critique of the iPlayer subtitling. I don't really need accessibility features, but had them on as I didn't want to miss anything. The new Doctor Who content has made some big bounds with accessibility, with the BSL and audio description options, but I was a bit disappointed with some of the subtitling line changes from the actual spoken words, even if I get why some lines might have been changed for clarity from Four's meandering language. It had quite a big effect on the dialogue though, in some places. I can see what people on here mean when they advocate for accurate subtitling.)

Anyway, back to the evolution thing. I hope this might be explained or eluded to next episode, given the decision to re-air an episode with such a distinctly different Sutekh.

Between the time tunnel leading to the far future, plus the fact he originates from the Dark Times, maybe the idea of him being the 'oldest one' isn't as crazy as I thought? After all, beings like the Toymaker, if they are the 'Time Lords' of the previous universe, are presumably only around 14 billion years old in the present day, if their original species had lifespans similar to the current Time Lords.

That being said, Four says he 'lived for 7000 years'. No idea if that's about his lifetime up until this point, or how long the Doctor thinks Sutekh survived in the Time Tunnel. If the prior, it's possible it doesn't include his time imprisoned. If the latter, maybe that's how long he was stuck in the tunnel before he escaped to the Void, with his disappearance causing the Doctor to assume he died?

Meanwhile, maybe the "Mother/Father/Other" thing is more about taking that kind of role in providing understanding of N-Space to the Great Old Ones, like in the Titan Comics storyline, than an actual parental connection? I don't know, that one's going to both me if we don't get more information tonight...

The only other possibility, which admittedly I kind of like, is that Sutekh is somehow an incarnation of The Beast (in the same way the Doctor might be the Other/Red Guardian), who really is old enough to be such a thing. If so, maybe he's awakened to that power/knowledge since last we saw him?

#Doctor Who #Doctor Who Spoilers #DW Spoilers #Tales of the TARDIS #Tales of the TARDIS Spoilers #The Pyramids of Mars #DW Meta #DW Theory

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snowbellewells · 2 months

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Self Promo Sunday: "For Once, Don't Let Go"

This week's re-run is a Modern AU one shot I wrote for the @cssns event in 2020. I had not ever written much of anything supernatural involving ghosts before, and we were all dealing with the effects of loneliness and being more alone/lonely than normal during that time. Those were the themes I was exploring here. I'd love to hear what you think - if you're revisiting it, or if you're reading it for the first time. Enjoy!

*My artist for the story was @hollyethecurious and she created a stunning picset that I am still in love with!! *

Summary: In some ways, Emma Swan has always been a ghost - alone and floating through life without much to tie her to anyone or any place. However, when she wakes up in an unfamiliar old house and realizes she is stuck haunting the last place she went while alive, it takes a while to reconcile the fact that she is an actual ghost and that there must be something keeping her in the world after all. Then she learns she isn’t the only lost soul in the house. And that changes everything.

Also available on AO3, if that's your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

In some ways, she has always been a ghost. Never fitting in, never belonging anywhere. Abandoned, and so closing her heart on the need to be accepted before she could be denied. It was for that reason, on the first morning of her afterlife, as she blinked awake in a chilled grey dawn that seemed just like any other, Emma Swan did not at first realize she was no longer part of the living world.

There was a strange quiet surrounding her, as she sat up from the bed, which strangely felt much softer, plusher than hers usually did at the end of an exhausting day or the morning after when her bones still ached and her mind never felt quite rested. It was those two things combined - the unaccustomed silence and depth and comfort of the sleep she’d emerged from - that put Emma off balance. It was never that still in the heart of the city, no matter how early in the morning. There was a constant humming undercurrent, a long-accepted background noise accompanying her life in Boston: sirens, horns, the grating and beeping of constant construction, the hubbub of voices, sounds unending. If she were deeply honest with herself (which she didn’t often allow) it was part of what she loved most about the large city on the eastern seaboard; there was so much noise that she could ignore her own thoughts. She didn’t like to dwell on or analyze her motivations for choosing a job where she tracked and found deadbeats who skipped out on those they should have stayed to support. She didn’t acknowledge - not even to herself - that each skip she hauled into the nearest precinct and collected her reward for gave her a sense of satisfaction that almost dulled her unanswered questions about the runners she hadn’t ever found - the parents who left her just after she was born.

So, she was already on edge as she found her feet and moved through the room she was increasingly aware did not look at all like the one in the loft apartment she currently rented, nor were any of her things scattered around as she usually left them. Moving from the room into the hall beyond, and then down a staircase into an entry hall that she knew her small apartment didn’t possess, Emma’s mind struggled to fully wake and understand where she was and how she came to be there.

It wasn’t until she reached the front door - tall, solid wood, but nondescript and standard, nothing too out-of-the-ordinary - that two more revelations struck her almost at once. Reaching out her hand to turn the doorknob, step outside and see if the outside of the house or its surroundings jogged her memory, Emma was shocked to find that her hand wouldn’t grip the metal knob at all, instead passing straight through both doorknob and door itself, sending her sprawling forward with a yelp of startled disbelief. No matter how impossible it seemed, the rest of her followed her outstretched hand, passing through the wooden door as if it simply didn’t exist.

Blinking and stunned from where she had landed on the top step up to the porch outside the strange house she’d woken up in, it was more than a bit hard for Emma to put together what had just happened. She knew her mouth was hanging open, “catching flies” as one of her more affectionate foster moms along the way had playfully called it, but somehow her surprise only increased when she took in the place’s exterior. She did know where she was, despite being at a loss for why she would have woken up there. This was the place where she had tracked her most recent skip last night.

Furrowing her brow in concentration - and admittedly trying not to consider how she had just slipped past a solid barrier and what that might mean - Emma attempted to pull up more from her memory than that. This newest skip had proven pretty slippery; both Ruby and her seductive honey trap skills which Emma didn’t even try to match, and Mulan with her fighting ability and clever moves worthy of her Disney namesake, had failed in previous attempts to bring the guy in and moved on to more productive marks before Emma took on the case. However, she was just stubborn and competitive enough to have wanted to bring in the skip who had become a thorn in the agency’s side; plus, as he kept evading them and the court date grew closer, the price for bringing him in kept climbing. Emma had been thinking just how she might enjoy the whole week off she could afford to take once she caught this scumbag as she’d sidled up next to him at the seedy bar’s pool table and batted her eyes. She’d still been thinking it even as the jerk brushed her off and left soon after, and so she’d followed him - quite stealthily, she believed - to this place later that night. Fine, if he wanted to play hard to get, she wouldn’t play gently either. She welcomed a challenge, and this avoided the awkwardness she had to extricate herself from once honey traps were sprung anyway.

Emma was realizing now, however, that maybe she had been a little too obvious, a little too preoccupied to see that her skip might have been onto her. Had he been suspicious of her from the start, and that was why he didn’t take the bait? Or, had he known what she was truly after the whole time?

The evening dark had been falling in that strange hour where one could still see outside but surroundings were obscured, shadows lengthened and a person sometimes had to squint to find her goal. She had almost hung back, after watching her mark slip in through the unmarked door of the abandoned house at the end of a rather quiet and rundown street in an outskirt suburb. But she’d spent too long tracking the loser - and she wasn’t about to admit any hesitance or unease. Clearly the guy now had either breaking and entering or squatting in his extensive repertoire, and he needed bringing in before he expanded to something more dangerous.

That was what she was telling herself after waiting an interminable twenty minutes and then climbing the rickety steps as she’d watched her perp do. She wasn’t trespassing anymore than he was, the house wasn’t in his name, and if anyone asked… here she tried the door to find it unlocked and opening as she quietly tried it - yep, she could say it was open.

Emma had just taken a steadying breath and inched the door open enough to enter, when she caught movement in her periphery. She tried to duck, wondering wildly if the culprit had been lurking behind the door, when something long and solid swung towards her head too fast for her to avoid. It felt as though the air cracked, then crumbled around her, and everything went black…

That was all she could bring up, no matter how doggedly she tried to remember what came next. After that shattering impact was simply… nothing. And with that sickening fact, Emma knew. She was dead. Some lowlife bail jumper killed her to keep himself from getting caught. Whatever she was hit with, it was done viciously enough to mean her end.

Feeling a tremble begin throughout her legs and arms, up into all her extremities, Emma tried to fight back the swell of emotion - anger, injustice, hurt, loss that clamored to the surface. If there were any justice at all, she ought to at least be free of feeling all the painful emotion she had spent her entire adult life roughly tamping down. But really, she shouldn’t even be surprised. This wasn’t the first time she’d paid the price for someone else’s wrongs - though apparently it would be the last. The blank unfairness of it was what truly got under her skin. Was she always doomed to end up this way? Sprawled out with a cracked skull in the entryway of some old, empty house, punished just for trying to make a living and her own way in the world while exacting a little much-needed justice? No one would even miss her or know she was gone until she didn’t show up to work Monday morning, ready to gloat and collect congratulatory muffins for bringing in the mark her colleagues lost.

As she passed back through the door (and no, that weird sensation of sliding without feeling past a solid barrier did not become any less upsetting or disconcerting) Emma saw the rough wooden board on the floor where her killer must have tossed it afterward and the dried blood - her own, she recognized with a shiver - that she had missed before. She didn’t want to stay there, but she felt pulled back to the upper floor where she had awakened. As if she was not meant to leave yet. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she just had nowhere else to go…

Head bowed in resignation, she mounted the stairs, but instead of going back into what had seemed a nondescript bedroom on her first glance, she moved on to the end of the hall. She seemed to have all the time in the world to rattle around this place, reflect on her loneliness and why she was still there. It couldn’t hurt to put off that depressing train of thought and find out what else was there.

Bypassing the room she’d exited earlier that morning, Emma moved toward the end of the second floor hall. Clearly the place had been empty awhile, dust tickled her nose more the more she moved throughout the house, but the color of the rich, deep wood floors, the tall ceilings and eye-catching nautical knick-knacks and framed pictures on the walls showed her the place was once well-loved and lived in with care and pride. By the time she reached the furthest door on the left, almost tucked into a corner of the house, Emma was curious in sprite of her strange situation and uncertainty.

Upon stepping in the room, Emma felt her mouth drop open once again, immediately captured by the sight of four walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, interrupted only by the large, cushioned windowseat under a huge picture window in the wall facing the door. There were books piled on the floor near the windowseat as well, as if to be in easy reach of whomever had sat there to read. Heavy, larger leatherbound tomes that appeared to be atlases or maps also rested on the impressive cherry wood desk in the room’s center. While all of this was stunning, with an air of warm invitation that had Emma blindly inching forward, none of the furnishings were what truly stunned her one more time in a past hour full of riveting surprises. Standing behind the desk, with back turned to the door and studying the wall of books with concentration was a tall, quite formally dressed, man.

At Emma’s rather stunned noise, the figure turned to look over his shoulder, looking at her with dark arched brow. The gasp that had just escaped her was sucked rather inelegantly back up her throat. The man - well, fellow ghost apparently, as she could hazily see the spines of books lined up through his broad-shouldered form - was the most handsome specimen she had ever seen. His stunning bright blue eyes threatened to again steal the breath the she supposed she shouldn’t possess to begin with.

Wow, that changed things.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

Surprised in the large library that had stood silent and empty for so many long, uncounted days, Killian Jones couldn’t help scrutinizing the fair haired lass standing on his carpet. The strange haze around her let him know she was a spirit, much as he had been forced to accept he was himself. Still, some nearly forgotten and rusty echo of his former flirtatious nature rose to the surface and her surprised gaze clearly studied him up and down.

“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he murmured, a crooked smile crossing his face as he drank in her blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and generous curves in equal measure. “You aren’t some marvelous hallucination are you?”

Those sharp eyes rolled in exasperation, the stunned look finally leaving them as she shook her head and shrugged off the compliment. “Hardly,” she snorted, taking a few steps closer to him. “Apparently, I’m a ghost.”

Her words startled a huff of laughter from him with their droll humor. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he managed, “Not quite what you’d pictured, I wager?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she allowed, seeming to understand her welcome and meandering over to sit facing him on the cluttered windowseat’s edge.

Killian allowed a wry grin of his own and nod of agreement. There wasn’t much else to say, but he did understand where she was coming from. It had been rightfully upsetting, earth-shattering, and confusing when he realized he was no longer living and breathing but still wandering the rooms of his house. He was sure there had been a lot of ranting, questioning, and items thrown against the walls before he had accepted his new reality. By that measure, this lovely woman before him was handling her sudden entrance to the afterlife quite well in comparison.

She looked up to capture his eyes with her own and he found he couldn’t look away again. Her face was open, searching, almost as though she were trying to take his measure and decide if he were trustworthy. When she seemed to make a decision and smile warmly at him, Killian found himself swaying closer to her almost unconsciously, rounding the desk to stand before her as though pulled by a magnet. Dipping his head in a sort of playful bow, he offered, “Forgive me, where are my manners? I’m Killian Jones. And you are?”

She reached out her hand to shake, unaccountably grateful that she was able to feel his larger fingers clasp hers without passing through, that she somehow still felt warmth and a zing of awareness at the contact, even if none of it made any sense. “Emma…” she replied, her voice going lighter and more thready than she’d like, “Emma Swan.”

“Hmm…” he murmured lowly, a rumbling hum that she felt along her arm as he brought her hand up to place a kiss on the back of it. “And just who are you, Swan?” he mused.

Swallowing hard, she dove in with the plain truth. “Just a stubborn bail bondswoman who went after the wrong skip this time,” she sighed.

His eyes registered the sadness, the disappointment and melancholy, the resignation to this fate slowly settling over her. He wanted to say it would get better with time, but time was now a funny, nonexistent sort of thing that was impossible to measure and not much help. Instead, he took in her features with understanding and tried to offer what comfort or cheer was possible against the self-doubt, blame, and ‘what-ifs’ beginning to hover. Not only that, they zeroed in on the broken skin, dried red and the purpled bruising at her temple, clearly the killing blow that had been dealt her. His hand reached up of its own volition to touch the soft hair above the wound, a tender brush of fingertips that Emma closed her eyes and leaned into with a relieved sigh. Almost as if he knew how very rare such concern had been in her life - maybe because it had been the same for him. Whatever the reason, they lingered there, two ghosts in the golden morning light through the picture window, drinking in the first real contact either had felt in far too long.

Something linked within them in that very moment - and everything changed again.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

It would have been funny; in fact, Emma would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested - even a week before - that she would be killed on an assignment, end up a ghost, and then meet another ghost who would soon know her better than anyone had in life. And yet, within days she and Killian had shared more than she had ever allowed with co-workers, her handful of casual friends, even foster siblings when she’d still been a kid. Granted, she didn’t have much to lose, but it was more than that. She came to learn that Killian was more like her than she could have thought possible; orphaned as a child except for an adored older brother, that brother then killed in service of the British Navy just as Killian had been preparing to finish secondary school and join his elder sibling in service. Apparently the death had been some sort of accident during a routine exercise, and Killian had been awarded a healthy settlement as his brother’s only living relative, but naturally he hadn’t wanted the payout, just his only family back. Since that wasn’t the choice before him, he had taken the money, gotten out of England, and vowed to do something with it that would honor Liam and help someone else - even if it could do nothing for his own shattered heart.

That was how he’d come to befriend a frightened young mother and her infant son not long after he reached Boston. He’d been renting a motel room on a weekly basis until he figured out what he planned to do in the long run. He took a lot of long, aimless walks in the sharp, chill wind off the Atlantic, and one late afternoon he had stumbled into the public library, hoping to warm up, maybe distract himself a bit, and instead had found Belle sniffling as she attempted to read to a fussy Gideon where they were huddled in the children’s section. It hadn’t taken long for them to become friends; easily one of the best friendships he’d ever had. And in short order, Killian had known this was how he could use Liam’s money for good. He’d found a house, invited, then wheedled and cajoled, her to move them into one of the unoccupied wings and stay with him there. It was much too big for him alone he’d argued, and he needed the company, noise and bustle of even the smallest bit of family in his life. Belle had been hesitant, feeling it was too much, too good to be true, but trying to find a living and make a good, safe home for herself and her boy, while also staying unnoticed and under the radar of her wealthy and well-connected ex-husband was becoming more and more impossible. She’d assured Killian that the man had never been physically abusive, but emotionally and mentally he had left his mark. He had been a master of manipulation, had known the law and its loopholes, could afford the best attorneys money could buy and Kilian had not needed psychic abilities to see the woman was terrified he would come to haul her back - or at the very least take her little lad away from her.

That last admission had been uttered some weeks on in their acquaintance - or at least Emma thought it had been weeks, time was hard to measure when one was no longer on a clock and the days flowed from one to another in a similar stream - one night as they sat by a crackling fire in the hearth of the long unused den. Emma had shared a fair amount of her own scars by then. She had been curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, thinking that this would be the perfect occasion for a hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon, what had been her favorite way to unwind in the evening, and marveling at the good heart this man before her possessed, be it beating still or no. Not just anyone would have done so much, given so much of himself, to help a person he barely knew. Nor kindly helped a complete stranger like her adjust to her new reality beyond the pale either.

Suddenly it seemed like there was nothing else to do but to scoot across the sofa to the other end where Killian Jones sat still as a statue. The pain in his eyes, and blame she could see that he carried, broadcast over every line and shifting shadow of his face. Emma couldn’t help but bring her hand up to touch his cheek, to trace along his tightly clenched jaw as his eyes slowly dropped to follow the path of her fingertips, watching her intently as they continued to brush softly over his skin. Emma had wondered numerous times why she couldn’t physically make contact or grasp other objects but she could touch him. Why could they feel each other so strongly? Was it because they were both ghosts? On some other plane together? Or was it something else, something a less jaded person might call Fate or magic?

Whatever the reason, she was grateful for it as she held her breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth awaiting Killian’s reaction. She found every nerve alive and anxious as she watched him, caring more than she ever had about what someone else thought. Was that the key? For so many years in group homes, with foster families, even for a time homeless on the city streets, Emma had shut the world out. She had been born and grown up without the unconditional love and care all people should know, and the natural childish illusions about people’s selfishness or the world’s indifference had been stripped away far too early. Life had turned its back on her, and she had done the same in return. She had closed herself off from emotion and learned all too well that putting her trust in others made it easy to get hurt.

But now, in this old house, with this wonderful, vulnerable spirit before her - all the feelings she had shut off for so long were breaking free. She couldn’t hold them back, and she didn’t want to. She couldn’t really be harmed, wasn’t hustling to get by, and maybe that allowed the fear to recede enough to peak over the top of her walls. Maybe it was just that - despite only knowing him for a short time - she had never met anyone like Killian Jones when she was living. If only she had, she wouldn’t have been lost for so long.

He was blinking away a tear when her focus turned back to his face in that moment. Smiling back with a tiny, empathetic quirk to her lips, Emma brushed the escaped droplet from his skin, whispering, “He found them, didn’t he? Her ex? Even though you tried to keep them hidden…”

Killian’s head of thick, dark hair bowed, his eyes falling to their laps instead of holding hers. Running her fingers through the coarse strands, Emma ached to comfort him, to somehow lessen the weight he had lost hope of lightening. Whatever had occurred, it couldn’t have been his fault. He had only tried to give them shelter.

His voice was muffled when his forehead had come to rest on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, cradling him closer in an embrace more binding and intimate than any she had ever experienced. “I don’t know for certain, Swan,” he sighed, his words rough and coming forth in choppy fragments. “It has always seemed so… Both being expats, Belle and I came to enjoy tea… in the afternoons… I had come home early that day...had a new toy for her Gideon...and I - I couldn’t wait to show it to him. ...When I walked through the front door… I knew immediately….something was wrong… too quiet.. I walked into the kitchen… and the table was all set for tea. But the plate of biscuits was… strewn across the table… broken crumbs everywhere… and her - her favorite teacup was shattered on the floor…”

Emma tried to take in the devastation he must have felt, the panic and helplessness, all while making soothing noises, almost sorry she’d asked him as the story was wrung from his lips bit by bit. She kept holding him, hoping that her hand stroking over his back and her fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck could give some solace. She had never longed to fix someone else’s hurt more than her own. It was frightening in the desire’s intensity, but all she could do was hang on.

“I failed them both…” Killian husked, his voice even more soft and ragged than before. “Of course… I reported them missing… but the case came to nothing… no leads turned up. He got to them… just as she feared... “

She wished she could tell him otherwise. Her own unshed tears stung in her throat - both for the poor woman and little boy she felt as if she knew through Killian’s stories, and for his pain. Her chest ached with the anguish he had harbored for so long, feeling it as if it were her own. If she could take his pain onto herself and give him peace at last, she would do it without hesitation.

As if in response to her thought and the desire to lend her strength, Emma saw a starling light, nearly blinding her as it appeared over Killian’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away, but she squinted trying to understand what had materialized from thin air right in front of her. It looked like...yes, it was a door. There, where an archway normally lead from the den to the kitchen, was a simple grey door, but for the brilliant white light emanating from around its edges. It couldn’t be ignored for all its radiance, and it almost seemed to beckon her near, drawing her in.

Her eyes widening, Emma forced herself to turn away, breathing in Killian’s scent from against his neck, hoping that the masculine, spicy aroma he somehow still carried, even in his ethereal state, would reel her in as it had before. She knew what must be making itself known before her, and she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what it meant.

Up until that very second, she would have sworn she wanted that door to appear, to pass through it and leave the cold bitterness of Earth behind. She wanted that door opening up for her to move on, but she just as surely wouldn’t leave Killian as she had been left so many times. She couldn’t abandon him.

For the first time Emma could remember, she didn’t want to change the way things were.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

She shouldn’t have thought the open door would escape Killian’s attention. The man was ridiculously intuitive and seemed to read her like the pages of a favorite book. She had not said a word, had turned back to him, focused on the muscle in his jaw working as he brought his emotions back under control, and managed to ignore the blatant signal beckoning to her until the glow dimmed and the door faded back out of existence. The archway between kitchen and den was just a curve of plaster and paint once more.

But as days passed, Emma coudn’t help worrying occasionally in unguarded moments if a person only got one door. Had she missed her only chance to move on? It wasn’t that she never wanted her peace and rest, or to know what was waiting on the other side. Yet, she couldn’t truly regret her decision either if the alternative had been leaving Killian alone, even if the consequences did trouble her mind.

So she wasn’t sure how Killian had figured it out the morning she came down the stairs to find him already in the kitchen gazing out the window over the sink and bathed in the rising sunshine. Maybe the man was genuinely able to read her mind. He was always able to tell when she entered a room, she conceded as he turned to face her, even before she stepped from the last stair. She felt him the moment he drew near her as well: an awareness, a prickling along her skin, the buzzing sensation of need and desire she had always resisted in life electrified by his presence. Maybe there was no hiding when someone was that close.

With the window and the sunrise at his back, Killian seemed almost outlined by a halo of gold. He came to stand at the counter facing her, and Emma moved to meet him, smiling easily. “Morning,” she offered in greeting, still fighting years’ worth of habitual impulses to start brewing coffee and digging throught he cupboards for cereal - sustenance that she no longer needed.

“Swan,” he’d spoken gently, calmly, but in a way that drew her up and demanded her focus. Reaching out his own larger hand to cover hers where it rested on the countertop, he went right to the heart of the matter. “Emma… what were you thinking?”

She shrugged, trying not to meet his eyes fully as she pretended she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” she asked blankly.

He sighed, that apologetic depth of sorrow in his eyes making her swallow hard when he spoke again. “You saw the light at the end of the tunnel, didn’t you? Your door appeared… The evening we spoke of Belle and Gideon’s disappearance…” He paused, spearing her with the intense blue of his gaze and not allowing her to look away. He cupped her chin between his thumbe and forefinger, stroking along her cheek as he did so, the expression on his face begging her to help him understand. “Why didn’t you step through, Love… and go on to your reward?”

The worry and fear on his unfairly beautiful face showed that he already new exactly why she hadn’t, but he deserved the truth. Emma couldn’t give him anything less. Placing her hands over his, squeezing tightly with feeling, she leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Killian, don’t ask question you already know the answers to,” she breathed shakily, trying to keep the tremble from her voice long enough to speak. “You must know, surely… it was you.”

His head back as he heaved a deep, rattling breath - breaking away from her as he did so. “I hoped I was wrong,” he admitted. “I don’t want to the reason. You shouldn’t be held back from your paradise because of me.”

For a moment his eyes wouldn’t meet hers as he struggled to regain control of himself. Then, he reached out to wipe the pad of his thumb over her cheek and brush the solitary tear she’d shed away. Not letting him have an out, Emma caught his eye once more. “Paradise, huh?” she tried to tease weakly, desperate to make him smile. He was breaking her heart. “You think an awful lot of me, Buddy. We both know I was no saint.”

A huff of air escaped him that might have been a disgruntled laugh in spite of himself, but he pulled her into him, almost clinging to her for several long minutes before finally breathing in her ear, “Nonsense, Emma. You were meant to be an angel. Don’t give up your peace on account of me.”

She hugged him back, but made no such promise. They would have to disagree on that, and he knew it too. They were both too stubborn to change their minds, so days went on and they went back to almost-normal without speaking of it again. Emma simply had to hope he understood. She didn’t want to argue with Killian, or to ignore his wishes. And she did want to go through her door as well, but when the time was right. She realized now that would have to be when they could both go throught it together.

~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~~

It had been March when she’d met her fate in the quiet old house, and she and Killian had drifted through the spring and summer and early autumn, growing ever closer to each other. They had sat on the porch for long hours talking without getting too hot or worrying about bug bites or sunburn; spent evenings curled together under one quilt in the large windowseat of the library watching lightning flash across the sky and thunder roll on August nights. As September came, they snuggled under the comforter on the bed, her head resting on his chest, her ear over his heart as though she could still heart its beat. If she had thought before that she couldn’t leave him, there was no way she could even imagine it again.

There was a chill in the air the September afternoon a thick, cream-colored envelope landed on the front porch, addressed with Killian’s name and a Ms. Belle French scrawled in top left corner. Emma heard the soft sound of the thick paper landing on the proch slats, and didn stop to question how it had gotten there, why the ghost resident of an supposed abandoned house was receiving mail again, but had hurried to where Killian reading in the library, letter in hand.

A more lovely autumn day had never been than when a slant of later afternoon sun lit Killian’s face as he scanned the letter’s contents, a smile dawning over his countenance as if he coudn’t believe the words before him on the page. “They’re alright,” he murmured, half to himself and half to her. “They got away… thought I should know.” His eyes continued to skim over the handwritten lines quickly, but his beckoned her close, and stunned smile on his face and light in his eyes that did Emma’s heart good. She could see the guilt and the hurt he had carried lifting from his shoulders with each passing second as she came to perch on the corner of the desk at his elbow. “They didn’t want me to have to harbor a secret… just missed the people who trashed the house that day, and didn’t want to continue putting me in danger…”

He shook his head in disbelief and then stood to sweep her up in his arms, spinning her around as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe, finally, he didn’t.

It was only as Killian set her back on her feet again, as he picked up her hand to kiss the back of it tenderly, and she hummed in contentment, swaying closer to him that a warm inviting light touched the side of both their faces. Turning as one, Emma recognized the sight that had graced her vision once before, but Kiliian’s eyes widened before turning to hers. “Is that…?” he breathed, hope and uncertainty and awe blending in the question as it trailed off on his lips.

She nodded, no words coming to her that she could speak past the lump in her throat.

“Well, then, Swan,” he smiled with the beauty and joy of a man whose heart was free at last. “What do you say we embark on a new adventure?”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” she said with a certainty she felt to the bottom of her soul. Clutching his fingers in her own tightly, she walked with him toward the door wreathed in light that had appeared in middle of the bookshelf. As long as she didn’t have to let go of Killian’s hand.

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