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libraincarnate · 2 years

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astrology notes: 12 🏰

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

➷ capricorn/saturn doms: they absolutely won’t be an enabler. they’re big on competence and aren’t too fond of overdependent people. it’s lowkey repulsive to them when people won’t even bother trying, choose not to put in the work, or they always want/expect people to do things that they’re capable of doing for themselves. they value independence so they don’t just encourage others to be independent but they expect themselves to be independent and competent as well. otherwise they’ll put in the effort to learn. they hold themselves to the same standards they have for others.

➷ gemini in the 7th house, especially with inner planets or a stellium: for these natives, the person they end up marrying must be funny. might even be a deal breaker for them if their partner isn’t funny. they love to laugh, like to joke with they’re friends/loved ones, so they have to be able to laugh and joke with the person they’re going to spend the rest of their life with. may desire someone with a similar sense of humor. they bring an upbeat & lighthearted energy into their relationships and they need to be able to express themselves or feel comfortable enough to be themselves. communication is also of great importance in their relationships. they may want to text and talk to their favorite people all through out the day.

➷ saturn brings difficulties and challenges but there are also rewards. so if your saturn placement has only brought you trouble or hardship stay tuned to see the blessings in disguise, how/where your hard work pays off, how/where you’ll reap what you've sowed.

saturn in the 10th house - you may experience conflict with your bosses, those who are superior to you or have more authority than you. they may be condescending, a classist, a megalomaniac, or they held you back in some way. but you endure that mistreatment and later on you receive a promotion, you obtain a leadership position, maybe you take their spot. but in your new position you don’t treat your subordinates like your bosses or mentors have treated you. you’ve learned from that experience, you know what it’s like. you treat all your employees or the people working under you with the same respect, you consider and value their ideas, you give them opportunities or bonuses when deserved, they feel like you’re a good leader, they learn from you and may consider you the best boss they’ve ever had. as a result, this can contribute to a good reputation and can benefit your career.

saturn in the 2nd house - you may experience issues with your self-esteem. could be the type to look in the mirror and pick yourself apart. may be hard on yourself or too critical. perhaps you’ve been picked on or you’ve been belittled by others. but then you may start a career in the fashion/beauty industry, perhaps you become a model. because you worked through the issues that saturn presented you with regarding your confidence or your beauty, you’re now impervious to the critics, their words don’t get to you because you know yourself, you know what you’ve gone through to become a stronger person. the people who teased you now look at you with envy or admiration. you’re confident in front of casting directors, you have tough skin, you don’t compare yourself to other models, your confidence oozes through your magazine covers, you have a strong presence on the runway. and perhaps there’s a sense of professionalism about you that makes clients or designers come back for more, time after time, leading to longevity or an impressive resume or portfolio.

saturn in the 4th house - you may have been your own parent, probably felt like you had to raise yourself and your siblings. may have felt more like a parent to your parents than they were to you. you couldn’t depend on your family or mom so you we’re only able to depend on yourself. you had to be an adult when you were just a kid. your experiences here can make you feel reluctant to have children of your own. but if you do have end up having kids, you could make a great parent. yes saturn can be strict, and you may be a parent that emphasizes rules, respect, hard work, etc. but you’ll also give them the childhood experience you didn’t get to have. your upbringing/family life was hard so you want it to be better and smoother for them. they don’t have to feel the burdens of life and responsibilities so early and so harshly, they have someone they can depend on, a parent that’s always there for them. raising them to be awesome human beings with good morals, passing on the wisdom & life lessons you’ve gained, giving them the affection you didn’t receive, making home feel like a safe environment. you’re patient with them. the difficult times at home gave you experiences and lessons that make parenthood easier to handle. and that child or your children may help you heal you from those emotional wounds. you might look back on those tough times and be proud of yourself when you see the family you came from and the family you’ve created.

the themes of saturn may not always be fun but they’re necessary. and depending on the way saturn plays out in your chart, it may present you with things that you’ll later look back on and be grateful for.

➷ leo in the 12th house: may struggle with the idea of fame or popularity, shying away from the spotlight but lowkey wanting it, struggling with self-expression, you stand out but want to hide, reminds me of this emoji 🎭, you appear happy & sunny on the outside but you may feel dead inside, could express your pain through music, acting, or art. you're aware of the activity in your subconscious. you're introspective, and more humble, not boastful or flashy. could be proud of how you’ve faced adversity or overcame the suffering you've experienced, you could be like a light to others who have faced similar experiences, potentially leading them out of their suffering. seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you may have the tendency to remain hopeful despite everything you’ve endured.

➷ virgos remind me of cats because they’re always cleaning/grooming themselves. they constantly check their nails making sure they’re free of dirt & looking nice, they smell good, their clothes fit well and look presentable, primping their hair, making sure their skin isn’t dry/ashy, checking for nose/eye boogers, etc. idk about you guys but they’re the type of person i’d sleep with, like thank you for not being dusty and respecting me & my body. you guys know that saying “common sense isn’t so common” ? well neither is proper basic hygiene or cleanliness so i don't blame them for their tendencies.

➷ mercury dominants: probably good at typing and they type fast. may enjoy typing and testing their typing speed, trying to beat their previous wpm. naturally good with their hands, sewing, cooking, building, doing hair, drawing, etc. random, but they're probably good at untangling things like necklaces.

➷ mars in the 6th house: once they get going, they work nonstop. they want to get everything done at once. the type to do things one after another with short breaks or none at all. they may take on more than they can handle and force themselves to complete all their tasks but that’s because they can be so driven and hardworking. the types to take their work home with them. this can be detrimental for their health but for employers this is someone you’d most likely want to hire.

➷ your lilith sign may show you where you have scars (including surgery scars), where you often get cuts/wounds/pain, or the body part you obsess over because you see flaws:

gemini - hands, arms, shoulders

pisces - feet

capricorn - knees, joints

leo - heart, back, hair

cancer - chest/breasts

aries - head, face, eyes

➷ chiron in aquarius: may have experienced troubling friendships, or losing a lot of friends. loyal to a fault, you put great effort into your friendships, maybe you were more considerate, more eager to be their friend, and you’re probably a good, genuine friend, but the love and energy you showed them wasn’t reciprocated or they suddenly turned on you.

➷ stewie from family guy has to have prominent capricorn & aquarius placements. he’s sarcastic, funny with a dry sense of humor, so damn smart, smarter than his peers, wise beyond his years, inventive, independent, ambitious, great with technology & he has so many cool devices & gadgets, he’s a baby but he’s mature, logical, and his personality makes him appear older than he looks. hmm, probably some scorpio or aries in his chart too because he’s also revengeful, holds grudges, strategic, driven, and can be violent. despite his possible aquarius placements, his main and constant friend has been the family dog brian who is mature and much older (56 in dog years) than stewie. he must have some stuff going on in his 4th house too, he basically hates his family & he's so mean to them, especially his mom 😂 maybe he has mars in his 4th house. he’s straightforward & tends to be condescending and harsh/rude. he also likes to be in control & he’s an initiator which may be due to the cardinal energy if he does any have capricorn and aries placements.

➷ gemini rising/mercury, sag rising/mercury: because you're so funny & sarcastic people may not take you or your words seriously because they always think you're joking. others can be shocked when you have to take it up a notch to show them you’re serious cause they don’t see that side of you often. your reaction is unexpected. but you also don't take life seriously either. with that being said, it’s rare to see these natives fuming especially with more reserved moon signs or those that like to have control over their emotions like capricorn, virgo, and scorpio moon.

➷ taurus in the 6th house: may be prone to procrastination and being messy. taurus is often described as lazy or not quick to act, so they might not be the types to put things back where they got it from or they clean up in a half-assed manner. and they’re stubborn so if they don’t want to do something or they want to do it later, it may be hard to dissuade them. i’ve also noticed they tend to have stable employment & this is partly due to their great work ethic and determination. they always have a job, if they’re unemployed it’s not for long, or they've worked at the same job for many years making it a huge part of their career and resume.

➷ pluto in the 7th house: may be possessive of their relationships. not just romantic relationships, but their relationships with those who are important or closest to them. best friend, family, etc. you’re their favorite person so they want to be your favorite person. if they have a best friend, they don't want that person to have other best friends, they want to be the closest person to them. i also think this stems from a place of control & fear. they don’t get close to a lot of people but they’ve opened up to a few selected people & shared some of their secrets with them, so they don’t want the people they’ve trusted to potentially share those things with others or to form stronger bonds with other people because they might leave them for someone else.

➷ 9th house ruler in the 5th house: sunday school teacher for children, arts/fashion school, may have played sports in college/university, a division 1 or 2 school maybe, a sports coach, possibly a hedonist, popular in school, interested in child development, learning could be something you enjoy, confident in your intelligence, creating and planning fun trips, proud of your academic achievements, lots of college parties & hookups, having a pleasurable and memorable college experience, the type to either put fun before their studies or to go to class late & still drunk from the night before but you excel anyways, inspired by different cultures, could be good at playing games like chess.

9th house ruler in the 8th house - religious trauma, a natural interest in the occult or esoteric spiritual practices, may study finance or business, well versed in psychology, may be a therapist, mortuary school, challenging the law, unpleasant or negative experiences with spirits, someone who possesses profound knowledge, people may ask you, “how do you know that stuff?” may teach others about sex & the reproductive systems like sexual education, sharing your knowledge about astrology.

9th house ruler in the 11th house - science over spirituality, studying politics, could like traveling or going on vacation with your friends, an atheist, could be the wisest one or religious one in your friend group, the friend people go to for advice, philanthropic/generous, might’ve gone to trade school, took online/virtual classes, received alternative education other than the traditional college/university, part of a sorority/fraternity, interested in astronomy, big dreams, wanting to make an impact in the world, possessing knowledge & ideas that could change the world in some way.

➷ empty 2nd house: when it comes to your personal belongings, most of the things you have may have been given to you or someone purchased them for you, you can be low-maintenance, not really having any personal income, but you may have money from other sources like an inheritance or a benefactor, or you rely on your family or government assistant for your financial needs, others might pay your bills, you may be indifferent to shopping, might not cook often, possibly having a simple wardrobe, nothing too fancy, not materialistic, could be indifferent towards money, you’re not impressed by it.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #libraincarnate

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poraphia · 1 year

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So piggy backing off the Wilbur x actor!y/n what if we’re an actor but we have to kiss someone for a scene and Wilbur is there watching us act if that makes sense

"One Good Movie Kiss"

pairing • jealous!wilbur x actor! reader 2687 words • 9.4.23 containing • jealous wilbur, reader is an actor, wilbur and reader meet up after a while of not seeing each other. super super sorry to the anon that asked for this weeks ago! I've been putting it off for so long and I just feel so horribly guilty :c my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

“I've spent weeks away from you. What I'm not about to do is watch you kiss some other man when you're right in front of me.”

♡♡♡

“You’re not kissing anyone.”

I raised my eyebrow with a corner of my mouth quirked up, almost amused by his statement, but Wilbur remained silent on the line. I was in my hotel room after a long day of filming. Wilbur had finished his set a while ago, and now he was waiting in his hotel room before his next flight to a different country.

“Will, it’s part of the script. I kinda have to for, y’know, my job.” I noted, plopping myself down on my bed. All he did in response was hum back.

“Well, whatever you say, dear, I just know you’re not going to be kissing anyone tomorrow.” He said matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes, not sure if he was joking or was serious. Besides, it’s not like he can just change the script to his liking, right?

Tomorrow Will and the band were going to be flying over to the country that we were filming in for two reasons. One reason was to perform a set for a festival, but the other reason is that with some great negotiating with the director, I convinced the team that Lovejoy could have a feature in the movie. After working with the team for some time, not only did they have a featured song in the movie, but also a scene where they played as a band during the film! I remember telling the band that night, and they were absolutely ecstatic. It was as soon as I got off of work, I rang them in the taxicab back to my hotel.

“Oh, Willll~!” I chimed after Will picked up my call.

Wilbur, who was absolutely groggy after performing, only mumbled when he spoke. “Yes, dear..?”

“Guess what, guess what! Are you with the band? You guys would all love to hear this news.” I asked. With a tired sigh, Wilbur flicked on the camera before outstretching his arm to show him in the passenger seat with the rest of the boys in the back seats. I noticed that through the car windows, you could see it was relatively dark, which was the complete opposite in my case with the bright and sunny sky blaring in my face.

Joe looked half asleep, Ash was on his phone, and Mark looked a bit drunk but nonetheless energetic. “So what did you need to tell us?” Wilbur asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Okay, okay! So remember how I said that I was going to convince the director to feature a song in the movie?” I reminded them. Wilbur slowly nodded in response, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Mhm?” He hummed.

“Well, not only will you guys have a featured song, but also you guys will be playing in the background in one of the shots! Isn’t that so fucking cool?! I’m so proud of you guys!”

Immediately, I saw all the guys sit up with wide grins and look at each other with such enthusiasm. Mark screamed and cheered as Wilbur held the phone close to his face, gasping in awe. “You’re serious?!” Wilbur said. “Like you’re so, so serious??” His mouth then curled into a wide smile before jumping in his seat like a little child.

I smiled, reminiscing at the memory that only happened a few days ago. “Hey, darling?” Present Wilbur called out to me, making me shake out of my thoughts.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m gonna head out now. Get some rest okay? I’ll be seeing you a couple of hours from now.” He noted.

“Oh, yes! I should get some rest now, should I?” I nervously chuckled, scratching the back of the neck. “I’ll see you soon, my love! Text me when you land. I love you!” With some cheesy little kisses through the phone, I hung up and threw my phone onto the nightstand. I stretched my arms above my head, snuggling into the off-white fitted sheets and pulling up the thick covers to embrace my body. My eyes fluttered close, and soon enough, I drifted off to dreamland.

The next day, I woke up practically jumping into bed and throwing on my usual outfit of sweatpants and tank tops. I walked into my bathroom, thoroughly washed my face with my exfoliating cleansers then brushed my teeth to make sure they were as bright as ever. I tied my hair back into something comfortable before slipping on some tennis shoes and leaving my room with my backpack equipped. Once I walked out, I called a taxi for a fifteen-minute drive to our production set.

In the meantime, I opened up my phone to read some missed messages from Wilbur.

Wilby <3: Hey we landed

Wilby <3: so eepy

Wilby <3: see you in six hours ml :)

With a goofy grin on my face, I responded.

You: headed to the studio now. cant wait to see you wilbs :D

I closed my phone and slid the device into my pocket, exchanging it for a pair of headphones as I admired the streets of the city.

Once I arrived, the office was bustling per usual with cameras getting readily in position and screenwriters and editors discussing the process of the movie shots. I made my way toward the breakfast table. On display, there were fruits, bagels, and yogurt cups. I decided to take a yogurt cup and plastic spoon before wandering around the set, examining the different scenes that were being worked on.

Once I finished a lap around the warehouse, I heard the front door open, and it was none other than Wilbur carrying his guitar case on his back wearing baggy clothing and glasses resting on the bridge of his none. Immediately dropping my bag and throwing my cup into a nearby trashcan, I ran up to him, jumping into his warm embrace after what felt like years.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur!” I exclaimed, burying myself in his chest. His arms slithered around my waist as he held me tightly, picking me up ever so slightly.

“(y/n)! I’ve missed you so much!” He twirled me around before placing me back down. “How are you, my love?! Has the States been treating you well?” He ran fingers through my hair as I held on to his wrist, not letting my eyes leave that gorgeous smile on his face.

“Surprisingly well! How about you, sweetheart? Have you been okay?” I asked.

“Well I’m certainly more than okay now that I’m with you—”

We heard a voice clear his throat only for us to whip our heads around. Joe, Ash, and Mark stood there awkwardly having to endure the immense PDA they had just witnessed. Instantly, we both pulled away with a tint of red brushing our faces.

“S-sorry—!” I stuttered. “How are you guys?”

“Hey, (y/n)! We’ve been doing just fine.” Mark held up his drumsticks, resembling a wave. “Were you guys getting ready to film?” He asked.

“Err, well-” I stepped back a bit from Wilbur to direct my attention to the guys. “In about fifteen minutes maybe? The director is somewhere with the film crew, so you guys can talk to him in the meantime. I gotta meet up with the cast in a bit to go over some lines and stage acts.” I checked my watch, realizing I had somewhere to be in just a few minutes. “Just for now walk around and get acquainted with the set. I’ll be seeing you guys later, I promise!”

Giving Will a quick peck goodbye, I jogged over to where the rest of the cast was, and from then on, we discussed our lines and what scenes we would be filming for that day. Some of the scriptwriters joined us as well, telling us how they envisioned each of the scenes.

“So this part is where we show the Masked Woman’s origin when she fell in love and then lost her lover.” One of the writers said, pointing at our papers. “We’re going to have a scene where they kiss while the band is playing in the background just to really feel that teenage kind of innocent love. Make sense?” I looked around, seeing all the actors nod, but my mind was racing.

We were going to kiss in front of the band?

God, I know Wilbur wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Hey, you’re doing alright?” I felt a hand on my shoulder, only to look up at the hired love interest that I was set to kiss with.

“Oh— Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my boyfriend is the lead singer of the band that’s going to play— Not sure if he’ll be too fond of watching us kiss.” I lightly chuckled to myself, but in reality, I was a little nervous. He raised an eyebrow before turning to a writer.

“Is there a way where we can hide the kiss? So we don’t actually have to y’know— actually kiss?” He asked.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” The writer sighed, tilting her head to the side. “The director is really strict on this. He wants a perfect, loving kiss scene.”

With a defeated sigh, I shook my head. “It’s fine, really. Just wanted to see if there were any cheatways into this.” I said, scratching my neck. “I’m gonna go do my hair and makeup. I’ll see you guys in a bit!” Begrudgingly, I trudged to my dressing room to get my outfit and makeup done. I know on one hand, this is my job, of course, I was going to have to kiss someone. It’s not like I haven’t kissed anyone on a set before! I mean, that was before I met Will at least… Still, I wonder. What was Will’s plan? It’s not like he can improv his way into being the one to kiss me. Unless?

After roughly an hour or two, it was finally time to film the scene. Lovejoy has been recording shots for the montage segment of their band playing as the actors and I have been rehearsing the following lines. But for the most part, it was small talk while watching the band perform. Which was completely fine in my eyes since it’s been so long since I’ve seen Wilbur and the band play live. All of the main actors carpooled into one van and were eventually transported to an outside area. There stood the director, Lovejoy, and the camera crew.

The setting took place at an outside area near a bay. The boys were set to perform at a stage-like gazebo with makeshift speakers and wires trailing along the floor. A little fan was even placed as a prop to refresh the band. I hopped out of the car, approaching the set steadily, unsure if they were still filming or not. Eventually, the director turned to us, greeting us with his signature jolly laugh.

“There yall are! Now, we just finished the takes for the band. Now as they’re playing, we need you two—” He pointed at me and my assigned love interest. “—to stand relatively in front of the stage watching them perform. Then after some deep small talk talking about how much you enjoy the scene, you two kiss! Got it?” Reluctantly, I nodded. I glanced over to Will as he clutched his water bottle, taking a swig but still keeping an eye on our group.

Oh boy.

We continued on with taking scenes. My love interest and I were in the middle of the crowd around us, but given the small venue space, there were only several other people. Roughly, I’d say under fifty people. I stood next to him as we chatted about our made-up lives, talking about experiences we had when we were children, all while a camera glided along the outskirts of the crowd listening to the band.

“Ah, hold on. Are you feeling thirsty?” He asked in character. I chuckled before responding.

“Yeah, actually, it is hot out here. There are some drinks being handed out over there,” I pointed my thumb to the concession stand behind us. “Grab us some drinks. I’ll just listen to the band for now.” I smiled. He nodded, rubbing my bare shoulder before walking past me. Holding back my sigh, I turned to Wilbur. Now was the easy part of the scene where I got to just listen to the performance.

“I’m scum. I’m waste. I’m what.. You want.” Wilbur strained into the mic. I bit my lip, holding back the lyrics I wish I could harmonize with the man. I couldn’t do as little as mouth the lyrics, knowing that the camera was panning to capture my expression. I simply smiled up to Will, and soon enough, I met his gaze looking down at me.

In turn came Ash’s bass and Mark’s drums, revving up to Joe’s solo. Wilbur was the only one not playing right now, but that didn’t stop his theatrics. He swung his arms back and forth, pacing a little in place, until eventually, he descended off the pavilion with a bounce to each step. I looked around a bit, confused and not knowing if this was part of the script. The crowd stepped away, basically giving Will his right of way right in front of me.

“W-Will, what are you doing?” I whispered. In return, he didn’t answer. With one hand on his guitar, and the other cupping my face, Wilbur pressed his lips against mine as Joe’s solo played in the background. A huge blush crept onto my face to the tip of my ears, and all I could do in response was melt like ice cream. I fluttered my eyes closed with my hands running through his damp hair. I was desperate for his taste, something I never realized how much I was longing for until now. What stress I had building up in my system, whether it would be the intensity of filming or missing my family and friends, dissipated just from such a tender and innocent kiss.

Wilbur eventually had to pull away. I opened my eyes, revealing his smug smile, and a wink shot in my direction. “Meet me after the concert, baby, just thought you looked nice.” And with that, he turned around to finish performing the rest of the song.

What.

The fuck.

Just happened?!

Once the band finished the song, the director got out of his chair. “And cut!” He exclaimed. I looked over to see him rushing between the crowd, a joyous look on his face. “That was amazing! From that one take alone I could feel the passion! The love! That’s what we were aiming for!” He turned away from us and waved his hand to his production crew. “Tell the writers we’re going to go a little off-script because that was amazing! (y/n) and—” He turned around to face Wilbur. “Will, was it?” All Will could do was nod with a sheepish smile on his face. “Will, my man! You certainly know how to capture an audience! Alright everyone, regroup for fifteen!” The director turned away from us as the hired audience filed for a break.

I looked over to Wilbur, who looked as shy as ever. I crossed my arms and furrowed my eyebrows, but I couldn’t hide that smile plastered on my face. “So.” I started.

“So what?” Wilbur repeated, playing dumb.

“So this what your masterful plan you were talking about last night?” I inquired. Bashfully he swayed side to side, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe.” He mumbled. I rolled my eyes, a bit amused by his change of demeanor.

“Clingy bastard.” I turned around and headed toward one of the trailers, leaving him speechless.

“What—! Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” I heard him calling from behind. “(y/n)!”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ deeply apologize for just a really shitty thing of writing. I've spent roughly days working on this? Just putting it on and off. I am very eepy. If anyone messaged me or in my inbox I promise ill respond in the morning. reblogs and likes very appreciated! tysm ssososo much for the support <3!!

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bluemoon-fever · 9 months

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pas de deux sneak peek | steve rogers

pairing: choreographer!steve rogers x ballerina!reader

summary: After receiving acclaim in your dance company's production of Sleeping Beauty, you audition for the principal role in its newest production, Giselle, and catch the eye of your attractive, new choreographer.

warnings: none

word count: 534 words

notes: i've been sitting on this for almost two years, and after re-reading it today, i decided to publish this sneak peek and see if there's interest in this. as a former ballerina, this is a passion piece for me, so please let me know what you think! <3 (initially wrote this as an ofc so if there's errors, my b!)

Someone was watching you. It took you a while, but when you finally realized it, your dancing changed.

You were always so sure that no one was in the building at this time. It was far too early. You loved coming in the studio early, doing warmups, choreographing ballets you were too nervous to ever present, and physically baring your soul to the three floor-to-ceiling mirrors that surrounded you. But now, someone knew your secret, and they were watching you at your most vulnerable.

As much as you wanted to cut the music, grab your bags, and flee the room, you couldn’t. The stakes were way too important. If you wanted to be Giselle, your lifelong dream, you had to stay and practice until your feet fell off.

This was your first audition where you had to perform a piece for the director and choreographer. It was new to you, and frankly, you loved the idea. It emboldened you to pick a piece from one of your secret choreographed ballets, especially one so ethereal and heartbreaking.

You began choreographing this piece when your heart first shattered into pieces. As you worked on the pieces, you felt the pieces of your heart slowing finding its way to each other, waiting for the glue to put it together. On the night you choreographed your favorite eight-count, you broke down in tears. Every time you performed that section that night, tears welled into your eyes until you was too emotionally exhausted to continue dancing.

Whoever was watching your dancing was entranced by you. They felt directly connected to you and the emotion that lied within your movement. You didn’t feel cruel judgment as you continued dancing under their watchful eyes. If it was Gia or a member of her entourage, they would’ve snickered loud enough to break your concentration. If it was Pierre, he would promptly tell you to go home and get rest.

This person felt foreign to you, but you didn’t mind dancing for them. Your nervousness quickly subsided, and you wanted to give them a show. To make up for your hyper-vigilance, you put more emotion into your movement. All of the emotions you felt while choreographing this piece rose to the surface like lava finally exploding out of a volcano. Yet no tears stained your cheeks. Your tears came in the form of arabesques, grand jetes, and a series of the best pirouettes you had ever performed in your life.

When you finished, you let out a loud exhale. You had stopped breathing unintentionally, and something told you the person watching did as well. Although you couldn’t see them beyond the one-way window, you knew they were moved by your performance. If they didn’t want to endanger their position, they would’ve clapped and sang praises for the performance. Instead, you (correctly) imagined them walking away stunned, unable to forget what they saw.

You felt proud in yourself and your capabilities. You weren’t the only person who knew your true potential. All of your anxieties had subsided in this moment. You weren’t worried about the other dancers or being reduced to a member of the corps.

You were Giselle, in more ways than one.

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choco-pudding · 1 year

Text

Space Channel 5 Part 2: Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book p. 160-169 (Translations by @lavoszero and myself. Edits and typesetting by myself)

Last part of Report 6 and the beginning of the bonus content.

Imgur link to all of the Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book translations we’ve done thus far.

Plain text below.

p. 160 Noize's Evaluation: The Curtain Falls on the Rhythm Rogues' Attack

Whereabouts of the Blown-Away Purge Thanks to the Astrobeat Jr., I was able to watch, firsthand, as the dance energy of 86,429 individuals combined into something truly spectacular. But I wonder… what happened to Purge? I don't recall Ms. Pine arresting him… were you content with him being blasted away? I dunno. Looking at the lyrics, "All the whole wide galaxy dances for me; yes, I'll make each one of you very happy," maybe he really thought he was the good guy here. Near the end, I think he said something like, "I won't forget this!" Or maybe it was, "See you next week!" Honestly, I’m a lil' worried. Even Mr. Blank was able to covertly return, so…

Ms. Ulala Marching On Anyway, the last was really cool, wasn’t it. Just wow… The Super Ulala Dimension dance and melody was so powerful I could see and hear it from the outside, too. It felt like something straight out of “Ten Billion Days and One Hundred Billion Nights.” It was like a holy cosmic showdown! It really was… I wonder if the “power of love” did all that. To cap it all off, everyone joined in to do the Space Channel 5 pose. I was so relieved everything was finally over. After that, as you know, we marched away like it was a regal procession. I couldn’t just leave after Ms. Ulala cheered, “Let’s march to the ends of the galaxy!" so I ended marching about 24 more space kilometers.

That’s where the report itself ended. Ms. Ulala, though, she was still so full of energy, even after marching, that she went off to dance somewhere else (laughs). The day after that, my team had the day off. Not that we had much to do in the first place. By then, the incident became a huge story picked up by all the regular news shows, rather than special report teams. Despite the whole fiasco, the government didn't really give us anymore commendations, and everything soon went back to normal. Ms. Ulala is still being routinely scolded by Mr. Fuse. I don't think that will ever change.

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p. 161

When Mr. Fuse Returned Sometime after I landed the Astrobeat Jr. to watch Ulala and the other’s grand march, Mr. Fuse came down to join me. While we were watching, I said to him "Nice job, Mr. Fuse. I can't believe you're alright." I really thought he met a gruesome fate after the Astrobeat was blasted down. Apparently, he was able to escape unscathed due a number of factors (you can hear the details right outta Mr. Fuse's mouth on the soundtrack CD released on April 24, 2002). I guess it was a traumatic experience regardless, since he went to his usual drinking spot as soon the show was over.

What Did I Do Next? Right now, I'm being interviewed by the Space Police… I don't really mind, they're being nice. But after the incident, I had my hands full! I was involved in the major project to recover all the antennas that had been modified by Purge; it happens when you’re a Technical Development chief with deep connections in the industry. At least the huge dance floor Purge constructed made it easy for all of us to work simultaneously. After about three days, we finally finished and I returned to modifying microphones for Ulala to use while incognito. I made some that look like an ice cream cone, an ear of corn, and a couple of other things.

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p. 162 Fuse's Broadcast Notes

Report 6 & Repeat 6 Last but not least, here are the final instructions prepared by director Fuse for the live broadcast of "Ulala's Swingin' Report Show," presented in an easy-to-read fashion. Its contents show useful tips for succeeding on the secret input locations. Modifications made for the rerun broadcasts for "Ulala's Swingin' Report Show" (Reruns have unique features from the first airing) are also included. Note, the timing and locations of the secret inputs are exactly the same between the main (Lap 1) and rerun broadcasts (Lap 2).

The Hidden Inputs

[1~2] Return of Mexican Flyer It’s finally back, the last "Jan, Jan, Jaaaan!," featuring the fan-favorite second and third beat of "Mexican Flyer." After Report 2,"Mexican Flyer" took a long hiatus, but these "Jan, Jan" timings haven’t changed one bit! Let's go, all together now! "Jan, Jan, Jaaaan!"

Jan! Jan! Jaaan!

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p. 163

[3] Ulalaaa! U! La! La! Purge the Great had overwhelming power in the confined space of Dance Dimension X. Ulala skillfully dodged the volley of beams, but even she couldn’t outmaneuver an all-out attack, and fell unconscious. However, Ulala came to her senses once she heard the rhythm of her friends calling to her in her mind. But, there was only three seconds left before the Ballistic Groove Gun fired! That would've be the end of the report! What was your quote, Ulala? That's right, it was "when have I ever lost at dancing! Get the secret input "pikoon" right after "lost!"

When have I ever lost [beat] at dancing!

[When Ulala's face pops up, that's the signal that she's ready to shout. The ratings are almost at 200%, rise up and give it your all!]

Flub the Final Finale and Face the Staff Roll Be careful not to miss the final "Chu! Chu! Chu!" mixed in with all the hype. A few mistake here and there before then is fine—reasonable, even—but the ending of the game changes if you flub here. This ending is a not-so-special shortened staff roll against a pitch-black screen, devoid of President Peace’s song. Needless to say, there's no group "March to the End of the Galaxy" either. And on top of all that, Purge won't perform his last hurrah (an input that can increase your ratings by one percent) at the end of the credits! So, if you screw up right at the end, you'll have to redo the entire report again, no matter what! Try again!

[Here’s the rundown on the failure ending; Mexican Flyer plays and the credits roll by super fast. The ratings? 149% at the most.]

[Now, the successful ending. We get to march to the ends of the galaxy and you get to hear the full lyrics of President Peace's soulful song. You get the complete credits roll, too.]

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p. 164 Reference Material Direct Hit Interview with Pres. Peace, Post-incident

~Tachibana, interviewing Space President Peace~ Hey, Texas here. The following is an interview conducted by Tachibana of Channel 01. But really, I’m sneakin' this in 'cause Piney, who was with me during this, was being so adorable and hilarious while we moved through the crowd. After the battle with Purge was over, the press started surrounding President Peace, so the president had to walk with Pine leading the way.

Pine: Attention, all members of the press, Space President Peace is very tired at the moment. Reporters, please get out of the way immediately. Reporter 66: Mr. President, a word please… Pine: Please, move out of the way! Reporter 59: Mr. President, do you have any comments… Pine: Get out of the way! (The press still are pouring in) Pine: I said outta the way! Tachibana: Excuse me, Mr. President, may I have a word? Pine, who's heart skips a beat: Oh my gosh! It's Tachi, (Pine's nickname for him), my ideal man, so full of reason and intelligence aaaah!) Pine: Alright (ba-dump), Tachibana from Channel 01, you may approach. Tachibana: Mr. Peace, I hope you're in good health. Peace: Thank you, I'm as healthy as I can be. Tachibana: Could you comment on the recent disturbance? Peace: I believe I can disclose this now, since the case has been successfully and safely resolved… That being said, please, don't hate Purge too much. I don't think his goal to make the galaxy happy was overtly malicious. I think it was just… over the top? He meant well, but went about it the wrong way. Tachibana: I see, thank you very much. Reporter 21: Mr. President, may we have a comment? Pine: Shut up! Tachi is still talking! Reporter 21: Oh, my apologizes… wait, "Tachi"…? Pine: … (I'm done for, I wanna run away). Tachibana: I can ask the question for you, if that's alright? Pine: Ah, alright. (Angrily turns to Reporter 21) Since Mr. Tachibana also asked, I'll allow you to do so, too. But please, limit it to just one question. Reporter 21: Right. Mr. President, what do you make of Ulala? Peace: When I saw the live report of the "Morolian Incident" I was honestly so moved. The fact there are still youngsters who can deeply inspire others, it reminded me that how much good is still in the universe. Disregarding my presidential status, I cannot help by appreciate the fact she saved so many people, including myself, who were under the influence of dance beam. However, I'm not judging her solely as a reporter, but her nature as a person. That is all. Reporter 21: Thank you very much. Pine: Mr. Tachibana, would you like to ask one more question? Tachibana: Yes. Mr. President, what are your thoughts on the current security? Pine: (ba-dump) Peace: Even though I was abducted, I was saved and guided to safety by Miss Pine here, so I think she gets a passing grade. Aha ha ha ha ha! Now then, if you'll excuse me. (Pine shakes Tachibana's hand and slips him a piece of paper) Tachibana: … A phone number??? Pine: (Tachi…)

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[[Translator’s note: I believe it’s implied that Pine’s internal dialogue is all Texas’s interpretation of her sister’s thoughts. Basically, she’s teasing her.]]

p. 165 Bonus

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p. 166 Miss Ulala’s Changing Room

Costumes Cleaning isn’t in Miss Ulala’s repertoire, so the burden of tidying up the Changing Room always falls on us. She'll swear she’ll pitch-in but she never follows through. It’s kinda irritating. Most outfits are returned as soon as the report ends, but some aren’t collected until a few hours after. So, it’s not unusual for some to go missing during that gap. I wonder when we'll have them all again.

01: Channel 5 Retro Gear [Unlock Requirements] Unlocked from the start.

Newly-supplied company reporting fatigues. Made from ultra elastic material for easy movements.

02: Flower Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 2.

Aromatic Multi-Functional Suit. Regulates body temperature and humidity for extra pleasant reporting at all time.

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p. 167

03: Gogo Gear (w/o helmet) [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 3.

Designed to protect the human body from space dust at high speeds.

04: Gogo Gear (w/ helmet) [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 4.

Must have for any space-roaming citizen. The helmet can usually be stored in the back.

05: Spy Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 5.

Designed for infiltration. A special wire attached to the back allows the wearer to move like a spider.

06: Old Retro Gear [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 6.

The company-issued suit Ulala used during the Morolian Invasion. It was in her closet.

p. 168

07: Old Retro Gear (Dirty) [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 6 (Extra Mode).

Designed to protect the human body from space dust at high speeds.

08: Super Ulala Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 6.

A super costume that is an amalgamation of dance energy. Rumored to be just underwear.

09: School Uniform [Unlock Requirements] Clear 24 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode.

A modified version of a uniform from School M. Altered by Ulala herself.

10: China Dress [Unlock Requirements] Clear 100 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode.

Used for the undercover investigation of the Shanghai Restaurant.

p. 169

11: Woolen Wear [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 1 with the Ratings at 100%

This was a suit that Ulala used to wear for her part-time job a while back.

12: Stealth Suit [Unlock Requirements] Have save data for Rez (PS2). Have save data for Rez (DC).

A super futuristic suit that apparently looks like a wire frame.

13: Pudding Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 2 with the Ratings at 100%

A costume of Pudding. You can also use it to imitate Padding, who is imitating Pudding.

14: Pine Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 3 with the Ratings at 100%

A costume of Pine, the Eastern Galaxy Space Police Chief. It can also be used to dress up as Texas, of the Western Galaxy Space Police.

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#space channel 5 #space channel 5 part 2 #Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book #noize #ulala #fuse #purge #texas #pine

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duhragonball · 5 months

Text

End of Evangelion: 25'

Yeah... that's...

"You don't understand!" is pretty much Neon Genesis Evangelion in a nutshell.

Or "You do (not) understand! (true²) Director's Cut" is how the franchise would put it.

Let's just get on with this.

I watched End of Evangelion last night. Well, early A.M. I took a nap and woke up at midnight and it seemed like the right time to watch a thing like this.

I did not enjoy the movie. I'll explain this, of course, but I wanted to get that out of the way up front. There are positives, sure, but I went into this thing hoping for a more satisfying conclusion than what was presented in the TV show, and I didn't get it. Both endings suck. There you go.

Let me back up a bit. So the TV series ran from 1995 to 1996. The final episodes, 25 and 26, were controversial because they were expected to wrap up the whole story, but instead they went in a bizarrely abstract direction. Both of those episodes apparently take place inside Shinji Ikari's mind as he struggles to accept being part of a collective gestalt of every human mind on Earth. This is the result of the "Human Instrumentality Project" a concept mentioned in Episodes 1 -24, but never adequately explained. The final episodes just skip past the part where Human Instrumentality was achieved and shows the result, without bothering to discuss the background or the cause, or the long-term ramifications.

From what I gather, the main reason Episodes 25 and 26 were Like That was because the studio was short on time and money, so a more satisfying conclusion was not practical. But since the series turned out to be so successful, they were able to take another crack at it with End of Evangelion. The film is very clear about its purpose as an "alternative" to Episodes 25 and 26. It's divided into two sections, numbered 25' and 26'.

I'm not sure the viewer is expected to pick one over the other. The original 25&26 take place in Shinji's mind when Human Instrumentality happens. 25' and 26' take place in the outside world, showing the events leading to Human Instrumentality and the aftermath. There may be some continuity issues to iron out, but a fan could easily accept both endings as canon.

That's not my problem here. The problem is not that there are multiple endings, or that the endings are too "abstract", or that the endings aren't "happy". Fundamentally, my gripe is that the endings are confusing. Perhaps it might be said that the endings are pathologically confusing.

I think this is one of those Big, Emotionally Raw Works, where you can't really discuss it without revealing something about yourself in the process. So let's do that. End of Evangelion makes me feel stupid. There's parts of the movie where I'm just completely confused and I have no idea what is happening or why. It feels less like entertainment and more like I'm about to take a test I didn't study for.

Except I did study, because I've literally been taking notes on this thing for the past three weeks. I was looking forward to this, and last night I'm near the end of the movie wondering what the hell I'm going to write here, because I don't understand what the hell happened in the movie.

So I poked around a fan wiki for a bit, trying to get a handle on some of the major concepts, and as I read the articles, I realized that a lot of this information just stone cold never made it into the TV show or the movie. There was one thing I looked up that had to reference a Playstation 2 game that released six years after the movie premiered.

It's not that I'm too stupid to understand Neon Genesis Evangelion. It's that the franchise appears deliberately designed to hide information from the viewer. You're just supposed to roll with it, I guess. Or spend days researching all this side material. Read the manga, read the wiki, read fan commentaries. I hate this. I hate this so much.

So maybe I'm not stupid. Maybe the anime was just badly designed. That would be comforting, except I still feel stupid for investing so much time into trying to understand this thing that seems purposely rigged to defy understanding. It's not just the ending. That's what everyone talks about, but the ending is just a symptom of a bigger problem. The beginning is really slow. Then the middle starts to get weird, and there's a lot of mysteries and subplots and lore that gets set up with the implied promise that "we'll explain later". And the ending(s) drop that ball. The surgery was a success, but the patient died.

I feel stupid because I got a reply to one of my liveblog posts, I think Episode 12, in response to some comment I made about all the characters having the same backstory. Ritsuko has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother. Misato has a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist father. Shinji has a complicated relationship with his workaholic scientist father. Is that a theme or did they only have one idea? My point is that eventually it stops being clever and starts being redundant. Later, we learn that Asuka has... a complicated relationship with her workaholic scientist mother.

"What, are you stupid?" asked the reply guy to my wry observation. They deleted it a few minutes after I saw it, so maybe they felt some remorse over the comment. Normally, I let these things slide. I might respond if I get legitimately hot about it. But this one got to me. "Am I stupid?" I asked myself last week. I seem to be complaining a lot about this show, but it's supposed to be a classic. Am I not giving it a chance? Am I missing something here? Am I just not smart enough to appreciate this thing? Am I just not trying hard enough?

If you're reading this, Reply Guy, please know that I didn't take it personally. I'm not upset with you at all, but I am trying to be honest with myself about this. This Neon Genesis Evangelion business has been frustrating me all month long. Now I'm at the end and it all feels very hollow, like I wasted my time.

I think that's my philosophy on life. I try to seek out new things to explore, usually stories, and sometimes they don't work out the way I wanted them to, and that's okay, because it's the journey that counts. Shinji Ikari keeps shutting down throughout his story, asking why he should bother doing anything, because he's too terrified of the possible outcomes of his actions. My thing is that bad stuff happens all the time no matter what, and you just sort of have to recover and move forward, because that's the only way to see what happens next. So I'm not sure if I can relate to Shinji or not.

Anyway, let's talk about Shinji masturbating in a hospital room over Asuka's comatose body.

I had heard about this scene, but I didn't realize how long and pathetic it is. Asuka had a nervous breakdown in Episode 23. This movie has to follow up on that, becuase Episodes 24, 25, and 26 each refused to pick up on her character arc.

Meanwhile, Shinji is wracked with guilt and dread over his battle with the 17th Angel in Episode 24. He had to kill Kaworu, but in spite of Kaworu's betrayal, he was still a friend to Shinji when he needed it the most, and he was such a good sport about getting killed, you know?

So this movie has to get us back to that moment, when Shinji and Asuka are at their lowest ebb, and I guess they decided that Shinji should go see her in the hospital because he's desperate to talk to someone about what's he's been going through. But Asuka's unresponsive, so he starts shaking her like he's trying to wake her up. Instead she just rolls over, which somehow exposes her half-naked body, and Shinji is so overcome with lust that he rubs one out right there and then. Doesn't even get a Kleenex, doesn't find a place to sit, he just whips it out and goes to town right in front of her.

I guess this is supposed to be a joke, but it doesn't land. It's not even a matter of the joke not aging well. Yeah, this is a 27 year old movie, but Shinji admits this is terrible behavior almost immediately. The "joke" didn't age at all. It was stillborn. This is like when you go to a graveyard and you see one of the tiny graves and the dates are from the same year. That's how funny this is.

The most charitable reading I can give this scene is that it represents the hypocrisy of Shinji's whole deal. He constantly insists that he can only do as he's told, because he's afraid of people not liking him if he makes a mistake or thinks for himself. But here he's doing some pretty disgraceful shit, and I sure as fuck didn't tell him to do this. did you? Did anyone? Of course not. He goes limp for most of the rest of the movie, but not here. Nossir. Seems pretty sure of himself in the minute or so it took him to finish his business.

The other aspect of Shinji on display here is that his ideal social interactions are one-sided. He's most comfortable with people when they can't see what he's doing, when they can't touch him back. That's why he wished for isolation in Episode 25. Here, with Asuka unresponsive, he's basically got the same thing.

I suppose the flip side of this is when Asuka kissed Shinji in the TV series. Her hangups are kind of the opposite of his, where she wants to be in charge of everything and everyone constantly showers her with praise for her achievements. She wants to kiss Shinji but she can't be vulnerable enough to admit that, so she orders him to just stand there and be kissed because she wants to "pass the time". And she makes him hold his nose shut because she doesn't want to be breathed on while she does it. I mean, they both have intimacy issues, but at least Shinji had a chance to consent to her weirdness.

In the NERV base, the crew wonder why they're still on alert status, since the last Angel was defeated. There should be no more threats, and it kind of makes sense for NERV to be disbanded. The only business left is the Human Instrumentality Project, and none of these ham-and-eggers know what that is.

But Misato has some information about it, which she mulls over while she's in her car. I guess? Let me explain this in more detail, because the movie never totally gets into the "why" of it all.

Okay, so the SEELE group has access to something called the "Dead Sea Scrolls". According to the NGE wiki, SEELE got it from the two angels that came to Earth, Adam and Lilith, in the distant past. SEELE has used the information contained in the scrolls to establish themselves as the secret rulers of the whole world. And they founded NERV, and its predecessor organizations, to study the Angels and figure out how to preserve the human race.

They talk a lot about Second Impact on this show, but they never explain exactly what caused it. Second Impact was not a meteorite strike or a rampaging angel who self-destructed, or even a lab accident. It was caused deliberately by SEELE, as part of an effort to contain Adam, who lay dormant in Antarctica.

If I understand correctly, this was necessary because at some point, Second Impact would occur anyway, and then Adam's children, the fifteen Angels we saw in the TV series, would come looking for Adam's body and unite with it, triggering a Third Impact that would definitely wipe out humanity. This is all supposedly explained in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

So SEELE's play was to trigger Second Impact deliberately, so that they could confront the Angels on their own terms. This gave NERV time to develop the Evas to fight the Angels, and to shrink Adam down to a more manageable size so he'd be harder to find.

Once the Angels were all defeated, SEELE could then trigger Third Impact. See, the TV series made it seem like the objective was to prevent Third Impact, but that was never possible. Third Impact is inevitable, I guess, so the only way to ensure humanity's survival is to evolve humans into something that can withstand the disaster. Thus, the Human Instrumentality Project, which will combine all human minds into some sort of disembodied superorganism at the moment of Third Impact.

However, throughout the TV series, SEELE has butted heads with the NERV Director, Gendo Ikari, about how this plan is to be implemented. Gendo wants to transform humanity into something new. But SEELE seems to want to retain their human nature and just use the plan as a lifeboat until the disaster has passed. At least, I think that's the disagreement here. Like I said, I had to learn about SEELE's agenda from the description of the PS2 game. It's not exactly a shock that the cabal of worldly oligarchs should want to save themselves and hold onto their wealth and power at the same time.

Gendo, on the other hand, seems mostly fixated on reuniting with his wife, Yui Ikari, who apparently died in 2004 during an experiment with Eva Unit 01. In the TV series, it was heavily implied that Yui lives on inside of Unit 01. Since Gendo's version of Human Instrumentality involves drawing up human minds into a noncorporeal union, I guess he figures that this will include Yui's mind, even if she has no body. It's unclear in this movie if Gendo actually intends to include anyone but himself and Yui in this merger, but in Episodes 25 and 26 of the TV show, Human Instrumentality is presented like it's all humans, even dead ones, and Gendo Ikari talked about it like that's what his version of Third Impact was supposed to be.

I suppose the only thing keeping Gendo and SEELE from turning on each other was the Angel threat, but now that this is over, SEELE attacks. First they try to hack NERV's supercomputers, but this is foiled when they recruit the aid of...

...Ritsuko Akagai, who betrayed NERV in Episode 23 when she destroyed all the Rei clones they had in storage. But she's the only one smart enough with computers to block the hack, so she crawls back inside one of them and uses her dead mother's notes to build a more robust firewall or something. I think she j-pegged a RAM or something, I don't know.

Ritsuko wonders why she's even bothering, since she already turned on Gendo. They had been banging on the down-low, but she got fed up with him when she realized he loved his dead wife more than Ritsuko or her mother, who also used to bang Gendo on the down-low.

With that cyberattack fended off, NERV now has to brace for an actual attack. Admiral Clownshoes notes the irony of NERV defeating all those Angels, only for their final opponent to be the humans they were trying to save.

Tactically, the entire battle is a formality. SEELE runs the whole world, and they can send wave after wave of soldiers into the NERV facility, which is already badly weakened after months of Angel attacks and budget cuts. NERV's defenses were designed for dealing with Angels, and their greatest weapons were the Evas, except Unit-00 was destroyed in Episode 22, and Unit-02's pilot has lost the ability to sync. Nonetheless, Misato wants the pilot kids secured, since she knows SEELE's goons will try to take them out first. She orders Shinji to deploy in Unit-01, and even though Asuka's in no condition to fight, she has her put in Unit-02 and then sent to the bottom of the lake. It's not much of a hiding place, but at least she'll be safer there than inside the base.

Where's Rei? Well, no one can find her, but she's gone down to the room where they keep Lilith and she's soaking in that orange goop they have down there.

Perhaps anticipating this, Gendo excuses himself and orders Clownshoes to take over the defense of the base. Clownshoes seems to know what he's up to, and sends his regards to Gendo's dead wife.

At this point, it's basically a race to see who can trigger their version of Third Impact first. SEELE wanted to use the Lance of Longinus and Lilith somehow, but since the Lance is in space now, they now plan to use Unit-01, the only Eva created from Lilith. That's what makes it special, apparently. Units 00 and 02 were made from Adam, I guess?

Anyway, Gendo plans to do it by combining Adam and Lillith together. He's got Adam's body within his own, and he wants to join with Rei, who contains some essence of Lillith. This was Rei's main purpose all along, I think.

Meanwhile, Misato leaves her post to find Shinji, who was sulking in some corner instead of reporting to his Eva like she ordered. She saves him from some goons, but they're cut off from Unit-01, so she has to find a way to get him where he needs to go. She also has to convince him to cooperate, since Shinji's completely gone to mush in the midst of this new crisis.

As she drives him to where they need to go, she explains (most of) the necessary backstory to him. Second Impact was triggered deliberately to buy time for Human Instrumentality, and humans are descended from Lilith, just as the Angels came from Adam. So in that sence, the human species is collectively the 18th Angel, just another candidate to inherit the future of Earth. Humans, like any of the fifteen Angels spawned from Adam, have the opportunity to trigger Third Impact and secure their place as the dominant life form of Earth, but we had to beat all the Angels first to do it, and then find a way to survive Third Impact when it finally happened.

And while Gendo plans to do with with Adam and Lilith, SEELE wants to use the Eva series, somehow, so it's vital that Shinji use Unit-01 to destroy all the other Evas.

Speaking of destroying Evas, Asuka finally wakes up in Unit-02, which is currently getting battered with depth charges. She still can't control the Eva, and she just keeps whimpering that she doesn't want to die. Eventually, she hears her dead mother promising to protect Asuka, and she realizes the truth: that Asuka's mother, Kyoko Zeppelin, was absorbed into Unit-02, much the same way Shinji's mom was absorbed into Unit-01.

Now, at long last, Asuka can operate her Eva again, and she goes apeshit on the SEELE troops. They sever her power cable, but she doesn't care, boasting that five minutes is plenty of time to take out these creeps. This is honestly the best part of the movie, because they had reduced Asuka to a pitiful shell for so long, and now she's finally taking charge and whoopin' ass.

It won't last.

With the conventional forces beaten, SEELE sends in nine Eva Units of their own. These are units 05 through 13, but they all look the same, and I'm not even sure they have pilots. It's a pretty cool design for a "bad guy" Eva, but they don't figure into the plot very much. They're here to destroy Asuka and Unit-02, and Asuka has to destroy them to stop SEELE.

Meanwhile, Misato has almost gotten Shinji to the Unit-01 launch bay, but she got shot, so she tells Shinji he's on his own from here. Shinji continues to resist taking any responsibility here. He says he's not worthy to pilot the Eva because he hurts people. He killed Kaworu, and he "did something terrible to Asuka". So at least the movie recognizes that. I guess it was included just to show the audience that Shinji isn't exaggerating when he doubts himself like this.

Misato refuses to indulge his self-pity, and she doesn't care how much he cries or tries to use his past actions to disqualify himself. She tells him she's made plenty of her own mistakes, but she still learned something about herself anyway. Hey, I guess Misato kind of gets what I was saying earlier. I guess this makes her my favorite character?

Well, yeah, but I don't like how she gives him a long kiss goodbye, then promises they'll "do the rest" when he gets back. I mean, she dies immediately after he leaves, so I think she was just feeding him empty gestures to motivate him while she still could, but... that's kind of fucked up.

Meanwhile, Gendo and Rei reach the room where Lillith is to begin their attempt at Third Impact, but they find Ritsuko waiting for them. She pulls a gun on Gendo and tells him that she sabotaged the supercomputer while she was reprogramming it to stop SEELE's hackers. Except... when she tries to execute her plan, the computer doesn't do it. This is because it's been imprinted with the mind of its original creator, Ritsuko's mother, and apparently mom still carries a torch for Gendo, even after Gendo screwed both Akagis over. Gendo then pulls a gun on Ritsuko, and says "I truly..." but the sound cuts out as he says the rest of it, so we don't know what he wanted to tell her.

In any case, she calls him a liar after she hears it, so either he told her he loved her and she didn't buy it, or he said something really cruel and she knew he didn't mean it. Either way, Gendo shoots, her which normally would suggest his true feelings, except I think this Human Instrumentality business works on dead people too, so life and death kind of becomes meaningless in this movie. We see a ghostly apparition of Rei as Ritsuko falls into the LCL fluid. We also saw ghost Rei when Misato died, so this seems to be a thing now.

Meanwhile, Shinji makes it to Unit 01, but it's immersed in Bakelite, which Misato had ordered dispersed through the base to impede the invading goons. I'm not sure how it got here, though, unless the bad guys used Misato's own trick to secure Unit-01. So it looks like Shinji can't get in the robot, even though it's not a robot, and he doesn't even have to be inside the stupid thing to control it. He literally proved that on his first day on the job. Yo, Shinji, get in the robot, your mom loves you.

Meanwhile, Asuka seems to be doing just fine killing the bad guy Evas without Shinji, but just as she finishes the last of them off, the Lance of Longinus suddenly flies back to Earth and improbably stabs Unit 02 through the face. Uh... how? Why? What the fuck?

Also, all the Evas Asuka defeated suddenly reactivate. With her battery drained, Asuka is helpless to stop them as they crack open Unit-02 and eat it. I'm pretty sure Asuka herself is killed during this, but we don't see a body.

I guess this was the catalyst to get Unit 01 off its duff, as it finally breaks out of the Bakelite and grabs Shinji like it's gonna put him in. Unit 01 busts out to join the battle, and it's thig big impressive spectacle. It even has angel wings now.

But it doesn't actually do anything. Shinji just gets a look at what's left of Unit-02's mangled corpse and screams.

And that's the cliffhanger for 25'. There's a credits sequence, then a dedication note from the director, and then the second half starts as Episode 26'. So this is a good place to take a break.

If you're curious, the part where Eva 05-13 show up to confront Asuka is about where things ended in "Evangelion: Rebirth". But 25' is about twenty minutes longer than that, so I'm not sure what the significance of that cutoff point was supposed to be. I guess it works as a cliffhanger, but it's kind of dumb to have Asuka finally wake up and kick ass, only to get utterly destroyed a few minutes later. Then Shinji shows up to set up the real cliffhanger.

To be fair, this half of the movie is better than the second half. Mostly, it benefits from the parts where they actually show the characters recovering from Episode 24 and beginning to move to the next phase of the story. This was what the TV show failed to do with its Episode 25. Now, we get to see the SEELE vs. NERV battle that was only implied before, and we get to see how Human Instrumentality is arranged.

We also see why it needs to be done. In the original ending, it seemed completely arbitrary, like Gendo Ikari just decided this was a cool thing to try and he just did it to the whole world without asking anyone's permission. Here, it becomes clear that if Gendo doesn't pull the trigger, SEELE will, and it's just a race to see who can get their vision accomplished first.

And we actually get to see the other characters in this version. Asuka wakes up and gets her groove back, Rei's part in the drama is revealed, and Ritsuko and Misato get shot. Seeing this stuff makes me even more irritated that the TV series just jumped right past it all.

Still, this half of the movie has problems. For one thing, a lot of runtime is spent just showing troops slaughtering NERV personnel, and showing Misato leading Shinji to his Eva. Also, there's a healthy dose of Gendo and Rei just staring pensively at Lilith without actually doing anything. A lot of the footage doesn't actually progress the plot, and only Misato and Shinji's scenes are useful for providing exposition. Gendo and SEELE's words are too cryptic to be of much use.

The main point of this installment was to reinforce things we already knew: Rei's important to all of this somehow, Shinji is a sad sack, and Asuka is helpless. And maybe it needed to be reinforced in July 1997, more than a year after the TV show ended, but I don't think it needed to be hammered home this much.

And like I said from the start, this whole thing relies on a lot of ridiculous stuff that I feel like I should have been told about in the TV series. How did the Lance of Longinus come back? SEELE couldn't have arranged this, since they were the ones who were so upset about losing it in the first place. Why are there two methods to trigger Third Impact? How did Asuka's mother get sucked into the Eva and yet she remained in human form long enough to go insane and hang herself? Why did the bad guy Evas suddenly recover from their injuries when it was convenient for the plot?

Perhaps most critically: Why are they just treating Third Impact and Human Instrumentality like the same thing? Like if you do one, then the other one just automatically happens? Is that how it works? Then why were they so worried about the progress on that project? It could be done at will, right?

Oh, and how did SEELE figure out how to do all this stuff? They have their own fleet of Evas, which seem to work better than NERV's. They made their own Angel in the form of Kaworu. They seem to know how to make Third Impact happen, without Gendo's help. And however they got this far, they seemed to pull it off without anyone from NERV knowing about it. So why did SEELE even need NERV in the first place? As it currently stands, the only reason Gendo's ahead of them is because he's physically closer to what he needs to work with. SEELE could have nuked the base from orbit and hauled Eva Unit 01 from the wreckage.

Again, the whole movie just makes me feel like I missed an episode, except I didn't. I watched the whole thing, which leads me to assume that the next chapter will clarify everything, except it doesn't, as we'll see next time. See you there.

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #end of evangelion #shinji ikari #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #misato katsuragi #ritsuko akagi #clownshoes

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from-memphis-with-love · 6 months

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Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 2

Summary: Memphis Mafia antics cause trouble on set and put Elvis' relationship with the film's director on thin ice. Amidst this chaos, he finds himself increasingly drawn to his co-star, Francesca, who challenges him to consider a more serious path in life. Their growing connection, marked by moments of vulnerability and the thrill of new affection, leads to a pivotal evening that could change Elvis's life forever. Will he embrace the possibility of true love, or will his old habits die hard?

You can go back and read chapter one here. Word count: 9,800 Warnings: Outdated gender dynamics; crude humor; sexual content; alcohol use.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

“Hey, E.P. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Hands off yer snakey!”

Elvis knew those annoying hyucks and haws anywhere, especially beating down his door at the crack of dawn. He yanked on a black silk robe and tied it at the front.

“We know you’re in there, E! Come to the door!”

He could hear the alcohol and pills still imbibing their speech and doubted they’d even went to bed last night. Opening the door to his home proved that no, they in fact had not gone to bed last night. At least not their own.

Joe Esposito wore a frumpled paisley polo shirt that was half tucked into his black slacks. One shoe was missing and there was old vomit on the one poor mahogany loafer present. Jerry Schilling had sweat through his beige three-piece suit and struggled to keep upright on the pebble driveway leading to the patio.

Marty Lacker and Billy Smith were leaning against one another, using each other’s gravity to stand up. The saddest mountain in the valley. Red West, sober and only a pinch aggravated, a vein bulging from his sweating forehead, opened his arms up for a mighty hug and a few wallops on Elvis’ back. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before asking, “So why haven’t you answered any of our calls? You know I had to call fucking Parker to clue us in on where you went off to.”

“It hadn’t been that long,” Elvis insisted, glancing at his neglected answering machine.

“Longer!” Joe wailed, leaning all over Elvis and rubbing his pink forehead into Elvis’s silky sleeve. “Oooh, it feels so cool against my face. Say, where’s the bathroom around here again?” He gestured towards the pool right out back and Elvis guided his hand to straight down the hall.

“First room on the left.” Or was it right? He didn’t use the downstairs as much in this house. Those double glass doors leading to the pool veranda freaked him out at nighttime. He made a mental note to buy some curtains. Getting everyone some water and ginger ale to nurse on, Elvis kicked back in his recliner, still in his loungewear with almost a full house. He hadn’t been so casual since childhood, without even his slippers on, for God’s sake. But everyone drank deeply and munched on the little cheeses and crackers he’d set out just in case they needed to soak up some of the liquor sitting on their bellies. He could get wild around this group of men.

His reputation was something that he never really tended liberally. It was effortless to display whatever it was that made his fans flock to him. In all regards, he was just himself and it seemed to work to get him this far. His fridge was full, his bank fuller, houses in every state (that he liked to visit), top shelf dames for the picking. Why, just the other night he’d (almost) taken Francesca on a date. She insisted otherwise, but his cheek still sizzled with that little peck, he could smell her perfume when he shut his eyes. Hot spiced wine and caramel. He couldn’t get enough.

The image he needed to maintain for this production was demanding and he realized that some of the worry he carried, in making this work, in making a mark, in doing more than just producing a film—in crafting a classic; was not for himself alone. The heaviness was shared for her. Frannie. She’d been in films before, he’d even watched a few of them. Some strange indie films, an avant garde piece with a French director, with her voice distastefully voiced over. She had a few commercials, television and radio.

Francesca might not be selling out stadiums, but she certainly had a devoted following of fans. Some of them were mixed in with his, albeit intermittently and much quieter than his raucous crowd. Young ladies with long straight hair and plaid skirts, glasses and berets, tracksuits and pinstripes. Artsy types. Sophisticated types. And of course, young men by the droves.

She always waited patiently for them, one by one, talking with them. Graciously asking them how their families were. Sometimes she remembered specific fans’ names, told them about their gifts seated on her mantle or dangling from her rearview mirror. She always had time for them, always radiating humbleness. She was grateful for every interaction, every autograph, every bouquet and box of chocolates. Frannie was working class at heart, just like Elvis. They both had a gift that lifted them from poverty, and both of them never forgot their roots, feeling more comfortable around the “little people” rather than their contemporaries.

So it meant something to him. To inadvertently have a stronghold on the helm of her career. He’d blame himself for the rest of his life if he did something to steer her into a media storm. He watched her perform when she thought no one else was looking. He learned that when she was rehearsing, she had a whimsy about her. A playfulness in everything that she did. But she was also precise, always hitting her mark, yet subduing herself. She was saving her true magic for the camera film. Like an endurance sprinter, pacing herself. When she was alone, or under the impression she was, Frannie flourished. Like the night he first saw her on the television, an angel on stage. She commanded hearts with ease, turning heads, widening eyes, craning necks. He could watch her for hours.

“So, who’s the girl? You know we know there’s a girl,” Joe asked, pouring himself a drink while plopping down in the only dent Elvis had managed to carve in the slippery white leather wraparound couch.

“There’s always a girl!” Marty hiccupped, his eyes shut as he sunk down in the crook of the couch’s arm, his cheek mushed against the wooden panel. They weren’t wrong. Elvis was by all accounts a ladies’ man. Women were the gentler sex and he’d always adored them, lovely and flirty as they came. He liked what he liked.

The Memphis Mafia had always been his traveling pack, but just for this film that he wanted to distance himself if only a little bit. Just to take things, well, seriously. He knew the boys were his weakness. They could get him partying all night long, blowing his money at casinos, bars, races. He loved the fellas, but this was only temporary.

But looking at ‘em all, so sad and slumped on his couch, strewn about his living room, stumbling back from the bathroom, he wanted to hang loose, too. Relax. Unwind with the boys a little. They were all dying to see what it was like on set. But more importantly, they were dying to meet Francesca.

“I saw her on a billboard on the way here! That dark haired doll with those come hither eyes,” Red whistled, rubbing his hands in that scamp way. “Oooh wee. Nothing gets me going more.”

“She’s a lady on set, but I guarantee she’s a wild cat in the sack, isn’t she, Presley?” Joe snickered, nodding his way.

Elvis felt a momentary pang in his heart. Then, he felt a childish itch to fib, but he relayed the truth, “Frannie and I are just friends for now. But trust me, it ain’t for the lack of trying.”

The fellas nodded solemnly, sharing glances with one another. “Typical games. They want you to try, try, try until you almost can’t see the finish line anymore.” Billy chided.

“Nothing quite like the fire of a hard-to-getter,” Red chuckled dryly. “She’ll make you work for it. But I can tell you just from looking at her, it’ll be worth it.”

Elvis wanted to pivot the conversation away from Frannie. It felt off to talk about her like a conquest. While he wanted her willing and wanting, batting those lashes at him, swooning for him, it just wouldn’t be quite right. She just didn’t seem like the type to fawn and frill. She never had a moment of, “Wow! You’re really Elvis Presley!” She’d taken him as a man, as her equal. A coworker, a co-star. A foothold on the wall-climb of success.

Once his boys had a power nap, a greasy fast food breakfast, and a long ride to the studio with the top down, they were right as rain, springing out of the Cadillac one after another.

“Good morning, Mr. Presley,” a young crew member winked. It was the girl from a few days ago that’d tried getting his attention. Looking at her now, she was quite the pretty freckled thing. Wispy bleach blonde hair pulled back in a high, twisty ponytail. Her hair was thinner than Francesca’s. So blonde it was almost pink. She had on a lot of make-up, maybe. He was apparently not the best at pegging if a girl had any on or not, if she was subtle enough with it. But she had black clumps in her eyelashes. Pretty, still.

The fellas tipped their suggestive glances towards him, wiggling brows, laughing and slapping him on the shoulders. Out on the hot concrete, the huge garage style bay door was open. Apparently, the air conditioning had gone out over the weekend and everyone was going to have to just power through it. The breeze was nice and there were more crew members lingering outside, smoking and shooting the shit.

Cassandra had gotten her hair cut, the graying wisps framing her face as she glared at him from across the way. She watched them cautiously, critically. He knew instantly that he would be under scrutiny with his boys around, but what’d started as a seed of worry had died and in its place agitation bloomed. He never liked the idea of being anything but his authentic self. His boys were nothing but a little harmless fun, and they weren’t causing a disturbance. Yet…

On set, Elvis noticed someone he hadn’t before, not only because of the new face, but also because he was escorting a brilliant mare, blonde and spotted, who shook her head and whinnied softly. He kept to himself, in a torrid conversation with the director, luring her attention back to his face.

Francesca’s scenes weren’t being rehearsed until the afternoon, but she was always in attendance early. She was inside, dark hair tousled by the breeze, chatting with the make-up crew and Eddie, who was already back on set, albeit with a neck brace and bandages squeezing his fractured hand. He gave a thumbs up before wincing, making the guys laugh.

“Looks like you at that age,” Red jibbed, as Eddie was almost a head shorter than him, gangly and pale. The poor kid was made to be behind the camera. Which was too bad, considering he had a lot of charisma. He told Frannie and Elvis jokes between gracious thank yous when they drove him back to his place. Kid still lived with his parents. In a basement no less. Eddie’s well-loved station wagon was outside and Elvis pointed at it, half-heartedly saying, “If I had to have a family car, that’d be the one.”

“That’s the car that would make you a father?” Francesca had laughed, that flighty, birdsong sound that haunted his dreams. Literally. He dreamt of her, feverishly, night after night since their not-date at the carnival. At first, they were silly dreams, wherein he was pantless and asking for directions in his second grade classroom and Francesca was the teacher answering snidely, “Yes, you may use the restroom, Elvis.”

Saturday he’d seen her in his childhood home. She was a little girl with braided pigtails and a sunhat too big for her tiny head, letting diamonds of sunlight in. They played together until it was time for him to wake up. One of those dreams he couldn’t remember the devices of, just the impression, the feeling he’d been left with when blinking his eyes open.

But there was one dream, his fervid dream just last night, where Frannie let him in, let him take her on a real date, wining, dining, charming her. Making her fall in love with him. Dark arms reached from the backs of their dining chairs and before he could shout, he was plunged into pitch black. Flashes of sunlight and song, mirth. He awoke with her in his bed, her beautiful back facing him, the linens bunched at the dip of her elegant waist. He would dream of lifting that sheet, but instead he drew her into his arms, inhaled her lush scent, felt her soft tresses against his face. His eyes had shot open and without even looking down, he could feel the space between the blankets and his belly where his morning wood tented the sheets.

A cold shower had been imperative. And then his crew had arrived, worried that he was in a slump (or more likely needing a place nearby to crash while they slept off their inebriants). But those feelings returned in full force the nearer he drew towards her.

Sensing his approach, Frannie turned to him with a face so lovely it made his heart ache. He inhaled sharply, never as off kilter with his words than with her. She just did something to the part of his brain that told his mouth to say things.

“You look stunning, Frannie,” Elvis rubbed her arm and although she didn’t pull away, she wasn’t at all receptive to the touch, or returning the familiarity in any way.

It wasn’t until she leaned in with a worried look in her eye that she said, “There’s a reporter on set. I want everyone on their best behavior.” She hadn’t emphasized “everyone,” but she might as well have. He wanted to kick rocks or maybe go find a hole. Suddenly, thoughts that never plagued him before came rushing in, a worry that he could be the architect of his own undoing. He felt as if he was being eyed, damn near looked down upon. Like she waited for him to step out of line and make a mistake, sending her inevitably and gracefully swooping in to save his bumbling ass.

Over by the craft table, Joe gestured towards Frannie and whispered, “That’s her, that’s her right there, shining like the sun. Talking to Elvis.” The boys made a beeline towards her and introduced themselves one by one, everyone remarkably tame.

She was still on the balls of her feet, her heels lifted, her composure fracturing when she watched the collective headturn of all the Memphis Mafia, eyeing bleach blonde and buxom Debbie who rapidly approached. She was a background dancer, the waitress that one of the male side characters was supposed to fall for. The girl who had winked at him just earlier. It took him a minute before he recognized her.

Debbie cut a line towards them, ignoring Francesca’s presence obliviously, so close to Elvis that she reached out with frosted pink nails and fixed his starchy white collar. “There ya go. I know how you like lookin’ your best, Mr. Presley.” She was chewing gum, strands of her hair getting occasionally snared on her glossed lips. “You wanna go see a movie after this? I’m free.”

He blinked in surprise at her boldness, but swerved the invitation tactfully, even with the boys egging him on.

“She says she’s free, Elvis,” Billy snickered.

Elvis grinned. “I’m so tired of movies, maybe something like lunch another time.” He didn’t intend anything but cordialness, but he instantly saw a shift in Francesca’s features. Her brows pinched momentarily, her lips thinned. She took a minute step back, acknowledging the situation.

Debbie was over the moon, clapping her hands together girlishly with a squeal behind her teeth. She had a gummy smile. He knew he’d done something that he’d regret, even if he didn't necessarily feel guilty.

Francesca walked away without a word, her perfume following her. He didn’t know whether to try and talk or just let her go. But watching her walk away, his decision not to trail left him hollow for the remainder of the day. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her face in that moment.

“So, like I was saying. My favorite place ever to shop closed down last week and I’ve been so upset about it. Where else am I gonna find another consignment boutique around here? Gah!”

Elvis nodded. “You should try secondhand, there’s a lot of good—”

She cut him off with laughter. “No way! You shop at thrift stores, too?!” Her voice was up there, volume wise.

“Oh, sure! I grew up shopping secondhand. This old spot back home, Tupelo Treasure Trove—”

“Shut up! You’re from Tupelo? My mom is from Saltillo!” She slapped his chest, her hand lingering for just a little too long. “That’s crazy! I bet we crossed paths before at a grocery store or a park, or like, on the street maybe. How funny would that be?”

Red and the others snickered behind him, rescuing him from menial conversation with a well-meaning loud girl, a natural reflex they’d honed to perfection over the years.

“He’s gotta get to make-up, ma’am,” Jerry politely interjected, hauling Elvis back.

“Yeah, he looks like hell, look at that,” Marty ribbed, mussing up Elvis’s hair, leading him towards crew. He craned his neck to look for Frannie and although he spotted her, she never glanced up at him.

While he was getting his hair sprayed and his pores powdered in, he saw Colonel Parker off to the side. He appeared as surly as ever, arms crossed and face puckered as he watched all the young people on set scurry around, getting everything perfect.

He approached Elvis. “Still just doing rehearsals? Thought you’d be filming by now at least,” he said gruffly, lighting a cigarette inside, something that Cassandra had strictly forbidden, proclaiming that the smell made her gag.

“The director just wants to make sure that everything is perfect before we start filming.”

“That’s what retakes are for.”

It was always an argument with Parker about something, anything. He would find the little details to gripe about. Even while getting the lion’s cut of the share, he was still a begrudging miser. He coughed wetly, pointing at Elvis. “This hotel fee is going to fucking kill me.”

Elvis didn’t take the bait. He just went positively along, refusing to argue. “Prices are crazy. If you want, I can cover the cost of the hotel, too.”

“Oh, would you be so kind?” Parker stamped his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, flicking it into a trash can. “Look, there’s press on set.”

“Trust me, I know.” Although, he hadn’t seen anyone yet with a camera or a recorder. They must be trying to gather information without being noticed first.

“Just don’t lean in to any of those disparaging questions they’ll ask you about your other films and you’ll do fine like you always do. You're proud of your work and you’re excited to give a female director a chance.” He couldn’t finish that without chuckling at the end.

Elvis nodded along, knowing that if he misspoke about his previous work, he’d just be burning bridges in every direction. It was true, he was proud of his work even if it wasn’t his best. He’d put heart into all his roles, even if he’d been playing hard most of those blurry nights.

“You’re up, hun,” the director’s rotund, sweet-faced assistant pitched her head towards the main set, the floor of the casino. He had another solo to play, but the music wasn’t the focus so much as the conversation his character was supposed to be overhearing between the crooked casino owner and a dirty cop.

The boys were chatting up some pretty girls at the craft table, lining their pockets with ding dongs while they were at it. They waved to him, all thumbs ups, wolf whistles, and cheers for their main man.

Elvis took his spot at the piano bench, looking for Frannie again, settling his sinking heart before he focused on the ivories. The first tones were somber and the words he whispered were pitifully sad. He’d wanted Frannie to hear them. He selfishly wanted to see if she would be impressed with his playing or follow the lyrics with him. To see if she would still be avoiding him or not.

But she didn’t show, and his lines were rehearsed and his scenes acted and danced out without a hitch in his step and declined to answer a lot of questions from the weaselly reporter that approached him, sticking to jovial, safe, canned responses about everyone doing their best.

Francesca avoided him. Jackass. Him and his little friends. They were acting like a bunch of pigs. She didn’t want to get muddy. She wasn’t some groupie.

Taking a break outside and enjoying the shade, the fresh air and flowing breeze made for a cooler air than the stuffiness on set. She could hear shouting from inside and after listening intently, she could tell that it was Cassandra, pitching an absolute fit. Stepping closer to the door, she propped it open to get a peek. Earlier in the day, Cassandra had grown instantly agitated by the presence of Elvis’s so-called “Memphis Mafia.” The obnoxious group of men had no right to be there. Their carefree demeanors sullied the professionalism on set, and both she and Frannie knew that they would serve as a very unhealthy distraction to their second leading star.

And they encouraged Elvis to flirt with all the girls on set. Ugh.

Cassandra had been fuming, practically pulling at her hair all day. She wasn’t saying a word, not yet, while she watched the boys cutting up daily, shmoozing with the pretty young crew members as the press sniffed for blood in the water. It was just embarrassing. Him. His antics. His effect on the film.

But now, the good director was spearing her anger directly towards the group of men, yelling at them to, “Cut the shit! How else would liquor end up in the punch?”

“Look, lady, we understand why you’re so pissed off. But we had nothing to do with this. Less than nothing. I don’t even know nothing. That punch tasted like regular ol’ punch to me earlier, but let me try some now.” The one she was sure was named Joe was clapping back at her, but it only pissed her off more when he sampled a bit from the pouring ladle.

“Get out! All of you, off the set. Anyone who is not getting paid by me, leave my set.” Her voice lowered an octave and she shut her eyes, calming her nerves and letting the men gather their wits.

Elvis was shocked, his face one of disbelief, but all the guys just laughed.

Francesca watched him lean into Debbie, close enough to smell her cheap perfume, to see the glitter she sprinkled in her hair to try and catch some of the low light and make him notice her. They exited out the door and Frannie, well, she was content to practice her lines. She wouldn’t let him dirty her on-set decorum. Maintaining good composure, she just barely tilted her head to acknowledge him, her expression blank. He was turning out like every bad rumor she’d heard about him.

Hell, when Francesca told her sister Connie about landing the star role alongside Elvis, she’d gasped and warned her to cage herself around a man like that. They just liked playing around and dipping out when things got inconvenient for them. Say something wrong, do something obnoxious, not laugh at one of their jokes and that was all they needed to deflate the joyride and steer things off course.

But Frannie hadn’t set a course. She was just having fun and quite content to stop things at anytime. If they’d even started, that is. After all, she had told him that wasn’t a date. But they were supposed to go to dinner this weekend. Somewhere out of town, he wouldn’t tell her where.

She was done thinking about this, letting him live in her head. She cleared some well-needed space and when he was hot on her tail after his rehearsal, when he’d magically garnered a moment away from his rowdy pack of dogs, he was laughing, shouting back at them, “One sec, just one sec!”

“Don’t bother,” she thought but didn’t say. Decorum, Frannie. Work professionalism was key in climbing the rickety ladder of fame. One wrong step was all it took. An explosion on set, a scorned would-be lover, jilted and hysterical, unable to continue filming, production on hold until a replacement could be found and—she swallowed, clutching her throat, turning to face him with a placid smile.

“Elvis. Don’t you want to get back to your friends?” Her tone was level, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Well, hey. Hey, how are you feeling? You seemed a little distant on set today.”

“Distant? Distant, oh, I’m sorry, I’m not going for that with Josephine’s character.”

He waved that away. “No, no. I mean you. What’s wrong, did I do something? Say something?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and pull her closer. He already was with his eyes, raking them over her.

Usually she would never buck up, never cause a stir. She gracefully knew to take the pacifist route in this world very much dominated by men. But seeing him with Debbie genuinely rattled her. It was a strange, foreign feeling.

“Look, I’m not a girl who can just sit pretty on a shelf and wait for you to come and fancy playing with me again. Do you… understand what I’m saying?” She struggled to keep her tone calm. He had truly unnerved her. She’d liked him, dammit. Still really did. But she kept it to a whisper, knowing that a nosey reporter could be anywhere on set, lurking in the shadows to get the next scoop, maybe overhearing a conversation on set that he shouldn’t have.

Francesca was horrified at the thought of any bad press getting out about the movie before its theatrical release. She didn’t want to do anything to put this project in danger. It meant so much to her, definitely more than one night at the fair. But she’d gotten kinda dizzy on the swings after a whole funnel cake, and he’d wiped powdered sugar off the corner of her lips, absently licking it from his finger. Her heart had skipped a beat. Now, it’d just sunk into the pit of her stomach. Like a portent, black storm cloud on the horizon, a man approached her with a greasy smile to match his sickly green checkered shirt and ocher colored shorts. He had a badge around his neck, a thick pair of prescription glasses resting on his bulbous nose and a pair of extra shades propped on his balding white head. He didn’t have a camera crew in tow, but he did have a recorder in hand, and he was already fumbling with it before he made his way to her.

Francesca steeled herself, trying to read him as a hard hitter or a blow-over. Some papers wanted a fluff piece about the latest film to placate the average reader. But others wanted to dredge up the worst of the worst, all the drama, all the angst, all the little petty arguments taking place behind the scenes that didn’t matter even an ounce in the grand picture of filmmaking. She saw them as pests, wondering if there was a fly buzzing in front of her face.

“Francesca Ferrara,” he slanted, his recorder hissing in the background, rustling his voice like wind through leaves. “What’s it like working alongside Elvis Presley for your biggest film yet?”

Maybe he was oblivious to how duplicitous it was to pose a question about her much more famous co-star, especially as the very first thing out of his mouth. She just barely masked the twitch of her lips, keeping her smile on.

“It’s amazing! I cannot believe that I actually get to work with Mr. Presley. You would not believe how professional he is. I couldn’t ask for a better co-star.”

He looked satisfied with that answer, asking another. “And this is your first Hollywood debut, right? What would you say to any potential moviegoers who don’t know which ticket to splurge their hard earned dollar?”

“I’d have to say this one. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to star in a movie directed by Cassandra Morgan. She is amazing. So, to not give too much away, just know that there’s going to be a lot of runaway laughs, heart stopping romance and a rocking soundtrack that’s going to shake the house.”

“Excellent, sweetheart. Excellent. And you just look fantastic. Fantastic, darling. What’s your diet? All the ladies are crazy about that cabbage right now. But you’ve always said you have a hearty appetite. How do you do it?”

Frannie was taken aback, but not surprised that his line of questioning devolved into simple dribble. What do you like to eat, Francesca? Do you go for a morning run like Miss Natalie Wood? Are you seeing anybody, Miss Ferrara? Do you have a man in your life?

She cleared her head, smiling though the bullshit. “That’s my little secret. But you can bet that I was taught never to be late for dinner, and I don’t count on skipping any meals. I’m Italian, after all! You’ll have to tell me about that cabbage, though.” She laughed daintily, even though she hadn’t really said anything all that humorous. She just wanted this to be over, clean and short. But he just kept prodding.

“So, I’ll ask the obvious. You and Elvis are playing a couple and have quite a few romantic scenes. Does any of that chemistry translate off camera?” The silence was filled with that anticipatory hiss. The recorder hungry for a story. One she was hesitant to give in full.

She couldn’t deflect his insinuation too hastily, for it would look like she was trying to hide something. Instead, she rolled her shoulders and held her chin up when she said slyly, “Isn’t that every girl’s dream?”

Thankfully, the questions shifted to lighter things about co-stars and estimated release dates, which she couldn’t really comment on other than a hopeful guess for next fall. When he concluded their interview and went on his way, she felt eyes on her. Turning to glance over her shoulder, in the shadows of the casino set, Elvis’s creepy agent, Colonel Parker was watching. The same dickhead who tried to lowball her agent and get her to take a smaller cut and put her name second. Absolutely not. She did not like the man, and by the looks of it, he didn’t like her either. She could live with that just fine.

Elvis watched from the sideline, a cool towel around his neck. He apologized profusely to the boys and also on the boys’ behalf. He just couldn’t believe that any of them would do something like that. Hell, when he interrogated them about it outside, they all had clean pockets. No one had a flask. So whatever alcohol had been used, the bottle had been disposed of. He wanted to check the trash cans to see if he could find any evidence, but what use would that do? They were already banned from set, and now Elvis was on what some might consider thin ice. Luckily, Cassandra Morgan was forgiving, seeing the obvious confusion and worry on Elvis’s face when he tried to make sense of what happened.

Apparently, some of the crew members were enjoying an early lunch. The punch left out had tasted a little dry and the smell was off. Elvis wondered if maybe some fruit juice had simply fermented. None of the boys would do something like this. Sure, they were jokesters, but they would never involve unwitting victims in their pranks. Absently, he had to worry if someone was trying to sabotage him.

With the air conditioning out and summer setting in, it was already starting to get hot with so many people. Debbie was saying something but when Elvis leaned in to hear what she was saying from all the way down there, he spotted the new horse trainer talking to Frannie. She was laughing, letting him release her hand after giving it a kiss, her eyes glittering. She looked refreshed, happy. Saying, “Antonio, you’re too much.”

Antonio was helping her up on the golden mare, letting her get used to the feel of such a powerful animal under her reins. She looked pretty and comfortable, like she’d done this before. When she responded to something the dashing Spaniard said to her, her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, mesmerizing him, Antonio, and certainly any other man with eyes in attendance. Her outfit was smart, tight fitting in a black pants and silver heels, the stark color of her slacks making the hand helping her quite glaring. Even though Elvis couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, he could tell that Antonio was fishing.

His fists balled and released at his sides, but he kept it cool, watching as Antonio exited stage left and Frannie took her place just off camera. In this scene—a heavily stylized dream sequence—she was supposed to blaze down the steps of the casino and steal a loose carriage horse to make a quick getaway from armed men who are tailing her, guns blazing! A few sound guys were stand-ins for the henchmen and posted up with the fingers as pretend guns. One knelt for a quick long range shot and the other was in pursuit as soon as Cassandra called action.

Francesca pumped her arms, her heels clicking as she ran, picking up speed before attempting to make the jump up to the saddle. She made a good first attempt, skipping to a momentous slide and up—up! Well, not exactly all the way up. She could almost get her leg over the saddle, but would fall just a little short and of course, her valiant hero came to lend a hand.

Antonio smiled, clearly loving the image he’d built for himself as the charming, helpful casanova. His hands once again grabbed her lithe thighs when she ran towards him, like she might tumble into his arms. And up she went, given that extra boost needed to soar up and land gracefully on the saddle. The horse, Goldie, adjusted with a mild-mannered flick of her blonde tail as she boredly chuffed.

“There you go, you had it in you the whole time. Just don’t be scared. She will catch you, just trust her and trust yourself.” Antonio served, but she was only somewhat interested as she nodded at him, grinning in acknowledgement and towards Cassandra to continue on with another take.

This time everyone was in a quiet standstill as Frannie focused ahead on the sprint path and took off. Without falter, she draped her right leg over the saddle like lace, fitting her feet into the stirrups and grasping the reigns. Goldie’s mane fluttered and she looked tired of the action, ready to gallop free. But she was a good girl, enjoying pets from Frannie to her big broad neck and ears. Gentle creature, tamed by a beautiful woman.

Elvis watched on with a foreign pang in his heart, but there was pride in seeing how accomplished Frannie looked, mounted high like a queen on her throne.

“Good job, my girl! I knew you could do it. Just takes a little practice, like everything else.” Cassandra’s southern accent grew thicker when she was tired, and her words were practically a drawl in this heat at high noon. “Let’s pick this back up tomorrow, folks! Give poor Goldie a break—and a round of applause! For Goldie and her handsome handler.”

The ladies in attendance all looked at Antonio with saucy, behind-the-hand laughter and then turned to giggle amongst themselves. Except Debbie, who was still very much enthralled with Elvis’ presence, her hands clasped low and her breasts pushed high up, betting for his attention.

Frannie waved goodbye from up on Goldie, ironically doling out kisses just like royalty. Always in good humor and ready to make someone smile.

He went to approach her, to stride up the steps to see her. Debbie’s arm looped into his so fast it gave him whiplash.

“Whoa, whoa!” He kindly brushed her away, “Almost lost my footing there, thanks for the hand. I’m gonna go talk to our lovely friend there,” he trailed, hopping up the set steps with his hands in his pockets.

Frannie could sense him approaching even while she conversed with Antonio, saying something about, “The Costa del Sol sure must be lovely this time of year.” She laughed elegantly, the kind of laugh that you stopped your own laughter to listen to. But here she was, putting on a polite show. Elvis could tell instantly that Frannie didn’t like Antonio, she was just being cordial. But the same couldn’t be said for the Spaniard, who was leaning against Goldie with his tan, brawny arms crossed, letting his eyes greedily wander all along Frannie’s figure. He was whispering, his brown eyes darting up to see Elvis rapidly approaching.

Frannie turned on her heels, never displaced, never caught off-guard. She touched her well-manicured, red lacquered pointer finger at his chest, muttering tightly, “We were just having a conversation about classic bikes. You have an old sportster, don’t you?”

He could tell even with the craft of her words, that the deliverance was key and that he wasn’t being welcomed in. Antonio looked smug, smirking at Elvis from over Frannie’s shoulder.

Elvis didn’t avoid eye contact with the younger man. “A Sportster. A Bonneville. Superhawk. Got an Electra Glide on the way with some customizations, before they’re being sold to the public next year.” He didn’t like being steered on when and where to talk, especially if some chump was going to try coming in on his girl.

Frannie leveled him with a split-second, whip crack glare. Like she couldn’t believe he was actually trying to flaunt his wealth. Or was he just puffing up like a peacock in some misguided attempt to win some perceived fight with Antonio? Either way, it shouldn’t have stung Elvis as much as it did. He was often regretting the things he said moments after he said them.

Antonio glanced between them, sliding his hand out with owl eyes. “Hello, sir. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Antonio.”

“Antonio here is only supposed to be on set for a few weeks, so we have to make the most of our time with him while we can.” The insinuation in her voice wasn’t lost on him but Elvis didn’t want to believe it. Whatever chemistry they had couldn’t have soured so quickly. He then realized why Frannie had been acting terse with him since this morning.

Was he being an ass right now? He stopped just short of rubbing his hand tiredly down his face. She was jealous and flaunting herself to tease him. Him and all the other men on set who would chomp at the bit for her affection, pouring their intentions into every word, every lift onto a pony. She was stunning, even when she was ticked off.

Elvis suddenly felt alone. His boys were probably at home, having a good time playing his records and eating his food, while he was here pacing the dark hallway to the dressing rooms. He’d spent only a short amount of time thus far in there, seeing as he was already dressed to the nines when arriving on set for rehearsals daily. Filming would commence next week and he was more than ready.

He let his brain toss his thought-slurry up one more time and somehow, amidst the fight for logic and courage, courage won out and he marched towards Frannie’s door. Knock, knock, knocking before he’d actually come up with anything to say to her.

“One second!” He heard a loud bash like she hit her vanity. She coughed a little painful grunt and stumbled to the door. “Jesus. I’m coming.”

When she answered the door, her heels were off, and she had her right foot clenched in her hand.

“I stubbed my toe for this?” She rolled her eyes, not hiding her irritation with him now. He wasn’t used to members of the fairer sex disregarding him like this. If any other woman had done that, it would have made his blood boil. But with Frannie, it only made him want her more.

“Frannie, talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on? What did I do?” He wanted to make it right. Alleviate some of her pain. He didn’t like seeing her so upset—especially at him.

But she just glared back. “I already told you that I do not want to speak to you.”

“Well, you didn’t say that.”

“I guess it was implied. I would appreciate it if you got out of my dressing room, please.”

“I just want to talk to you, Frannie. Don’t be like this. Can we at least go out for a walk? Some fresh air, maybe? It’ll do you good, you’ll love it.”

“I’ll hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Get out,” she cut, shutting the door, but he caught it with his fingers.

He shouted out in pain and she instantly pulled back, worriedly looking over him, but he used that as an opportunity to slip inside and shut the door behind him.

“Not until you talk to me.”

“I told you to get out! Do not—” Francesca collected herself before she misspoke, her heart leaping into her throat. He was so close. “Do not cause a scene.”

“Look, we’re behind closed doors. I’m not gonna raise my voice or nothing like that. I just wanted to talk to you, Frannie. We’re safe from the press. Just… talk to me. If you’re mad, let me know what I can do to make it up to you.”

Frannie was fuming. “Make it up to me? Making it up to me would encompass you apologizing me to start with and I don’t know, changing your entire personality perhaps? Because it seems you are incapable of going five minutes without ogling the next set of perky breasts.”

She knew she caught him completely off guard with her rashness, but she wanted him to feel struck, just like she had. Because for a moment, she entertained the idea, the fantasy that the rake Elvis Presley could be reined in, tamed by one woman. She couldn’t believe herself for believing in him for even a second.

“What are you talking about, Frannie? Oh come on, are you really upset about Debbie?” His tone was incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom fault in drooling over multiple women.

“You cannot be that dense, Elvis.” She scoffed, turning away from him to pour herself a drink. Just some water, to settle her roiling stomach. He was actually having a physical effect on her. More than one.

“I was just joking around with her. You heard me turn her down? Didn’t you?” Then he grinned. “Besides, you and I, did we ever go on a date, really? I didn’t think you even really liked me all that much, Frannie.”

Oh, he was so full of shit!

“I heard you tell her you’d go to lunch sometime.”

“I was just letting her down easy! Lunch isn’t very sexy, is it?”

“Then how would you like it if Antonio asked me to lunch. Huh? What if he asked me to go with him to Spain later this summer? And we ride horses on the glittering sands together?”

That made him falter. “Well, I... that’s completely different. Situationally.”

“How? Situationally.” Smart ass.

“Because you know that I like you.”

Now it was her turn to be caught with her mouth open, closing it without a word, mulling over her response. He was being vulnerable with her right now. Real.

He looked even more handsome in the low light of her dressing room. The red lamp shades made it look like he had hearts scattered in his blue eyes. He took a step towards her and she didn’t move away.

“Is that why you’re upset, Frannie?” He asked, his voice like velvet. “’Cause you like me, too?”

Of course she liked him. How could she not? He was a recipe for heartache wrapped in charm and velour. It would be too easy to fall for him, as easy as breathing. He was right in front of her now, looming above. The back of his hand brushed against the apple of her cheek. She inhaled sharply, her eyes searching his for the answer to the questions her heart asked.

Should I really be doing this?

He made the decision for her. When his lips crushed against hers, she cleaved to him, letting him melt against her. She could feel his relief when she didn’t retreat from him. He smiled, enveloping her face in his hands, petting her ears, exhaling indulgently, saying thank you with eager presses.

Elvis was pushing her back till her knees hit her settee. She stopped him, her hands on his chest. When he pulled away for air, blinking slowly while gazing down at her, his mouth parted. He almost panted with passion. She was helpless not to let him continue. He took her down, his large body pinning her to the cushions. She felt warmth pooling between her thighs. He was such a fucking good kisser, his hands busily caressing her, his tongue gently sweeping against her bottom lip, kindly asking for permission. She readily allowed him in, letting him lick against her in the same beat of his hips, which had begun to pitch forward against her own.

“Frannie…” He muttered into her neck, making her shudder and cling to him. What was he doing to her? Whipping her into a fervor pitch just with a kiss and a deft roll of his hips like this. He was parting her thighs, making her accept him between them. His trousers were silky against her skin, his mouth desperate against her neck and his hands exploring her body. Starting with the dip of her waist, he let his fingers trace her.

She arched into his touch, settling comfortably with him on top of her. It kept creeping up on her, the brevity, the quickness with which she was allowing this to happen. But she never pushed a man away because she was prudish or scared, only because she wanted to know that he meant to stay with her. That he was willing to get to know the real her. Yet something about them felt right. She couldn’t help but adventure headlong into this foray with him, learn these things about one another. About how sweet his mouth tasted, or how sturdy his hands were, gripping the small of her waist.

The vapors were rising and she could feel her body flush with heat. Her head began to spin, grounded by his weight. She touched him, cradling his face, pulling him into another kiss. Stirring his hips against her, she let out an unbecoming sound, one that he wanted her to make again and again with the way he continued that very movement.

“This side of you, how long was she waitin’ to come out?” He asked against her lips, stealing her breath with another smoldering kiss. Marking her with bruising passion. He was eating her up and she couldn’t get enough, even knowing that this was hurtling too fast, too far.

Maybe he felt her about to retreat, to douse the flames, so he quickened his pace, rocking his hips against her, lacing her hands with his and hoisting them above her head while he kissed her fluttering throat, leaving little love bites as he went.

She cleared her throat.

“You want me to be honest with you?” Francesca poised the question and he was hooked on hearing the answer. Gazing down at her, his hair falling out of place. “I do like you, Elvis.” She felt his hot hands slipping up her thighs, darting underneath the shadows of her dress. The fabric began to bunch at her waist and he was mesmerized, watching her face as he pet her.

“No sex,” she insisted breathlessly when he cupped her panties, palming the white cotton. Had she been anticipating this deep down? She wore the type of undies that turned him on most and delighted at the sight of his mouth parting.

“Anything you say, Frannie.”

His lack of fuss surprised and endeared her. What a good boy—a gentleman, even. Taking what he could get. Perhaps he really did like her. If only that were enough.

“This isn’t how I usually… conduct myself.”

“Well, I really love the way you’re conducting yourself right now.” He notched her dress up just a bit higher, catching the little bow at the top of her panties. It took his breath away.

“You should see how they match the top,” she alluded, rolling her shoulders and letting her dress fall. He eagerly assisted, tugging it down to show her lush breasts, attractively on display in a white cotton bra. It complimented her olive skin nicely. He touched her with open hands, gripping her impatiently. His thumbs pressed gingerly on either cup and he whirled in small circles, slowly stirring her, sending jolts down her spine with every spin. He was making her squirm, touching her so thoroughly. And he’d barely graced her bare skin. She worried if she could control herself if he did. She could be a voracious lover, taking a man for an endurance ride, and Elvis seemed all too ready for the task. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a real date now?”

She laughed throatily. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, big guy.”

He shivered, holding her tighter. “I like that. Keep calling me that.”

“Only if you keep behaving.” She retorted, with only a sliver of venom laced in. Still, he knew what he needed to say. To really get the panties to drop. And maybe get her to… like him more.

“You know. I’m sorry. About before, I am. I’m just—You…” Where to start? He breathed out, tousling her pretty hair. He didn’t need to make excuses; he knew she wasn’t the type of woman to wanna be fed any. But she waited attentively, patiently, for him to say the right words that would reel her heart in. Maybe she’d never be able to love a guy like him, but he could at least get her to kinda like him. “I’m sorta, y’know, stupid when it comes to women’s feelings. I know that I like the attention, it makes my big dumb ape brain happy when a girl tells me I’m her favorite artist, or I’m sooo handsome—”

“Oh, please.” Frannie snorted. Elvis giggled too.

“I’m going somewhere with this, I promise. I just want to say, I’ll quit listening to the part of me that says to entertain these girls and start listening to the really, really loud part, begging, pleading to listen to—” He leaned into her neck, still as stone, his hands poised on her ribs. She froze. “Frannie! Francesca!” He was tickling her, making her laugh involuntarily. She couldn’t even accuse him of playing unfairly; he was making her fight for every breath between bouts of laughter.

When he let her go and they were both catching their wind, looking longingly, almost warily at one another, she put her hand on his wrist, “Take me to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Hmm. I’m busy tonight,” she coyly replied, letting him place butterfly kisses along her exposed collar. He dipped a few to the pillow of her cleavage, nuzzling into her, brushing his cheek along them. Almost purring. She played with his hair.

“You ever ride a motorcycle?”

She chuckled and he looked up to see what he’d said that was so funny. Behind a daintily furled finger, she grinned. “I’m very acquainted with them, darling.”

His ears went red and his cheeks bloomed with color when she called him sweet names. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night!”

“Or, how about we ride separately, but together.” She could tell she was speaking his language when his eyes brightened. There was that wagging tail again.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at Sullivan’s.”

He couldn’t believe it. She was letting him in. He felt her skin. He tasted her tongue. He had her fingers squeezing his while he kissed her. When he palmed her down there, he’d felt how wet she’d gotten just from kissing. She was mesmerizing and constantly on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He dreamed about her again.

They were riding horses through the woods together, somewhere in Tennessee. It was snowy and there were perfect white flakes on her thick lashes. She looked like an angel atop a black mare. Next thing he knew, they were beside a roaring bonfire and he was taking her savagely in the dirt, her cries like music in his ears.

Again, he awoke thrusting his sheets, reaching out for her and grasping nothing. Dreams were weird and his always had been exceptionally so, but now they were also sex fueled. Francesca Ferrara fueled.

He brushed his teeth and thought of Frannie. What was she having for breakfast right now? He got dressed and wondered what she would be wearing. He stepped out into the living room, tumbling into the game room to play some billiards with his boys and pass the time until he could see her again.

Filming started Monday and Cassandra wanted everyone at their best, well rested. They stopped by a local burger joint. Joe griped about the director for the third time that day.

“I’m just saying. That lady had some nerve. Talking over me like that. Wouldn’t even let me explain. I don’t drink that stuff. You know what was in that punch?” He stabbed a steak fry into ketchup. “I’ll tell you. That was Malort.”

All of them gagged in response.

“Malort. Cheap garbage. It's a better drain cleaner than it is as a liquor. I don’t buy that shit. Don’t know anybody who does. Maybe poor guys on welfare.” Joe shuddered. “That’s some immature high school level shit, pouring it into an open drink like that though. I’d never do that. We’d never do that.”

Elvis held up his hands. They knew he believed them. “She’s just terrified of anything going wrong, is all. It’s her first big budget film and she’s critical of everything.” Especially me.

“She’s giving you a hard time cause you’re a man,” Marty quipped around a mouth full of burger, the others nodding in agreement.

“Damn, this is good,” Red gruffed, hardly saying a thing while he inhaled his plate, sucking his fingertips after every bite.

“I’ll talk to her about letting you guys back on set,” Elvis promised, knowing that he could grease the wheels with Cassandra a little bit. Tell her he’d let her family have free merchandise or something. Even a meeting with him and all that jazz.

“Ehh, don’t even worry about it, champ. We’ll just be distracting you, keeping you from uh—making it with that Ferrara girlie.” Lamar Fike’s double chin jiggled as he laughed.

Elvis grinned. “Don’t talk about my Frannie.”

“Oh, his Frannie, he says!” Marty chimed in, banging the tabletop, turning heads in their direction.

“I’m just trying something a little different. A little more…”

“Serious?” Red finished, the others waiting on his answer like a bunch of sad sacks. Like Elvis was going to marry and settle down with two and a half kids, white picket fence, labrador and station wagon.

Elvis shrugged, picking at the fries on his plate, anticipating dinner tonight. He had made the reservations and the breathless host had told him they could have a whole section to themselves, but he asked instead to just be seated far from the door, maybe outside on the balcony. He didn’t want a bunch of people coming up to them, star struck. He’d just wanted a private evening alone with her.

“Yeah. Just a bit more serious this time. Frannie is a really nice girl.”

“Don’t go falling in love.” Red warned.

“Don’t go breaking that nice girl’s heart, you old dog!” Lamar added, clearing his plate.

It was the last intention on his mind. In fact, it was paradoxically the one thing keeping him the tightest bound from diving into things with her. He wanted to take her on a trip to Europe, he wanted to take her to Bloomingdale’s and let her pick out anything her heart desired. Buy her a puppy, buy her a fur coat, buy her a matching pink Cadillac, buy her a house across from his so that he could see her at his leisure.

But above all, he didn’t want to hurt her. And inevitably, he always hurt the women he got involved with. He already gutted her with just a little harmless flirting. It worried him that his wandering eye would get the best of him and she wouldn’t be able to find it in herself to continue forgiving him, accepting him back into her life. He couldn’t do that to her. She said so herself, that she didn’t want to just be part of his failures, his shortcomings, his bad films, his broken relationships and used women.

Francesca wanted something he would have to dig deep to give. His truest self wasn’t the type of man that she deserved. He had a lot of thinking to do while he picked out which outfit looked best. “Navy or white?” He asked the guys, holding up two ties, the poll for white winning out.

He wore a sporty black three piece, his red under shirt conveying his bleeding, beating heart. His gold cufflinks clinked against his helmet as he placed it on his head, careful not to mess up his hair. Tugging on his jacket, he headed out the door. Sunset painted the mountainous horizon in swatches of orange and violet. The blue sky fading beneath dotted with starlight, guiding him towards the city as his bike ate up smooth black asphalt. He knew to meet her at her apartment so that they could ride together—but separate—as she’d put it.

Elvis caught Francesca again, looking out the open window. And he wondered how long she had been waiting there for him, in a flowing red dress and black leather boots. Riding boots. She looked like a mermaid, wind racing lovingly against her figure, whipping her hair wildly about her face. A vision of loveliness. Maybe this was what it meant to truly take a heart’s gamble and roll the dice.

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carchariascarcharodon · 5 months

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digging through the archives again & i've found another little press interview with robert shaw that i quite like. sticking it here for ease of access in the future :> from an article published in the los angeles times in february 1971, as transcribed below:

Most public people get terribly lofty about seeing their names in print (“Of course it used to matter . . .”). Robert Shaw, the English actor-author, is, bless his heart, honest enough to say it matters terribly. “My hand shakes when I pick up the Daily Express. And I will be comforted by reading someone else’s bad notices, I admit it. It gets worse all the time. Old Harold Pinter says my great vice is other people’s opinions.” Robert Shaw is subject to more reviews than most since he is both a writer (novels, plays, screenplays) and an actor English enough to play Henry VIII (in the film “A Man for All Seasons”), international enough to play Gen. Custer (in a movie) and Elmer Gantry (in a Broadway musical that lasted one night), and intelligent enough to play Pinter (“The Caretaker,” “The Birthday Party”). “I’ve been asked so often which I prefer, writing or acting, that I’ve started to answer seriously. I obviously prefer acting because the rewards are much more immediate. Writing is so lonely, such an agony. I’m an extroverted, confident person and I’m thrown into this pain . . .” Then why write? “I do wish for immortality—I don’t know why—but I do wish to be remembered.” Robert Shaw studied acting at RADA, a bleak and hateful experience, during which he was advised to give up. He spent his first eight years as a professional playing Shakespeare and had a rough time. “As a young man I had no charm, I was all agression [sic]. Richard Burton had enormous charm, he could get on with people. What an extraordinary life! When he went off to Hollywood, we all said, there goes the golden boy.” The turning point came with his first novel, “The Hiding Place” (1960). “From having been treated as a stupid actor—‘I find it hard to believe you wrote that,’ they’d say—I began to be treated as intelligent. Directors wanted me for television. And that’s where I became a working class actor. I’m not, I’m English middle class really, but I got into all these new plays. It was marvelous.” At present, Shaw has two plays coming up, neither of which will earn him a penny, he cheerfully notes: One is set in an American prison. The other, to be performed in London by the National Theater Company this spring, is called “Cato Street.” Shaw has based it on an actual attempt in the early 19th century to murder the entire British government. The plotters are betrayed and executed. “I hang them all on stage,” Shaw said with relish. “All eight or nine of them.” He hopes “Cato Street” will feature Laurence Olivier who, he feels, droops under some of his duties as head of the National Theater. “He asked me how many acts my play had. ‘Three,’ I said. “‘Couldn’t you make it two?’ he asked me. I said why? “‘Because,’ he said; ‘then I’d only have to have one drink with the governors.’”

#the gantry play was literally just called gantry - and it did only go for one night. it was a musical! charming to imagine him singing!#i wish i knew what american prison play was being referenced though :/ it's not included in his written works on wikipedia #i have the good sense that there are at least a handful of his works that have since been lost to the depths of the archives #if not vanished entirely #he wrote poetry when he was younger (as per the little author bio in my copy of the hiding place)#which i would LOVE to read. but it was published under pseudonyms #and i. don't know what those pseudonyms were. much less if any of that poetry has survived til now ://#robert shaw #long post

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qqueenofhades · 11 months

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I'm about halfway through my History BA and I have a question (I pinky promise I'm doing more research than just asking tumblr academics their opinions), but this is also me assuming you did college in both the US and the UK so forgive me if I guessed wrong and am confusing you with someone else. How does graduate school in either country compare? I'm still stuck between whether I want to go for my master's or straight to PhD so obviously I'm quite a ways away from making any important decision, but considering that I'm studying British history (primarily), it felt natural to consider getting my degree(s) abroad. Are there like, any major differences you're aware of that made university vastly different, or are they more similar than I'm thinking?? Was one situation flat out preferable to the other?? If you even have strong opinions about it at all

That is me, yes. BA in the US with one year in the UK; MA in the US; PhD in the UK; now the co-director of a US MA/PhD program, so I have an appreciable amount of experience with graduate and postgraduate education in both countries. Here are the main ways in which they compare/what the experience is like in both:

In the UK overall, the experience is much more self-directed. I only had taught coursework for the first year of the PhD; the rest of it was spent in research and writing. So compared to the American system, where you take 3 years of coursework first (such as the PhD program that I currently manage) and then write the dissertation in the last year or two (hence the designation ABD, or All But Dissertation), you're thrown into the deep end from the start. I didn't have comprehensive exams, which might be a plus if that's something you have anxiety about, but the tradeoff was that I had to complete the dissertation proposal and first full-length sample chapter in the very first year, rather than waiting for year 3, and to have that be the basis on which I was evaluated/approved to continue to the full PhD degree. If you know what you want to work on and have solid supervision, this can work out and it certainly allows you to develop your topic in depth from the start, but if this is the kind of thing that gives you heart palpitations, there is that. The bright side is that you will come out with a thesis that will need less revision to be suitable as a monograph, because you've done a higher and longer amount of work upfront. I.e. I published my PhD thesis as a monograph with a major academic press within a year of graduating, which is generally rare in the US system.

As such, the US PhD experience is overall more directed/structured and leans toward more coursework than research. The research is obviously a big part of it in a way that American undergrads rarely train in (unless they go to a fancy liberal arts writing-intensive school for undergraduate, like I did), but as noted, the dissertation is central in the UK PhD system in a way it isn't (or at least not as much) in the American system. You have pros and cons for both systems, and sometimes I wished that my intensively research-centric PhD, where it was all on me to do the research, write the research, and have something to present to my supervisors on schedule for each meeting, had more taught coursework or formal/structured contact time. You have a committee in the American system, i.e. three or four academics who will oversee your defense, whereas in the UK, at least in a history program, you only have two aside from your degree supervisor: an internal reader (within the institution) and external reader (from outside the institution). While this means fewer people whose approval you need to wrangle, my viva (final defense) ended up being a Goddamn Ordeal because my external reader, despite being a friend of my supervisor, was really not suited to read a dissertation on the subject and I don't think should have been picked for it, then was extremely unprofessional about her notes/reviews/suggestions. (My supervisor likewise apologized to me for that, so yeah, It Was Bad. Academic Trauma Ahoy.)

Master's programs in the UK are also incredibly intense; they are generally one year compared to the usual two years for most US programs, and you have to complete the coursework AND write a thesis in that time, which is not something that I really recommend for maximum sanity. (Then again, if you're getting an advanced degree in history, that might be out the window.) However, if you are working on British history, then yeah, it makes the most sense to be based in a UK university, since the archives that you will need to consult will be, obviously, far easier to access than if you need to try to cram it all into one overseas academic research trip on a postgraduate student's budget. In that case, it might make sense to just apply to a master's/PhD program in the UK upfront, to smooth the transition/amount of moving around/financial misery you will have to endure. However, word to the wise that there WILL be financial misery, especially as an international student at a UK university. The Tories have yet again jacked the visa and NHS application fees (which you will have to pay upfront for every year you intend to be there) through the roof; your tuition will be much higher (though as noted in previous asks, don't go anywhere unless they pay YOU to do it) and it is difficult to get any part-time work outside of teaching or other opportunities directly related to your degree, which are subject to the uh, totally great pay rate for junior academics. (Sarcasm. That was sarcasm.)

Basically, yeah: it depends on what kind of student you are, how much initiative you like to take, how much structure you need or don't need, what sources you anticipate needing to consult and how you're going to do that, if you're comfortable starting the dissertation right away and being ready to present a finished chapter at the end of year 1, and whether you want your graduate/postgraduate experience to focus primarily on independent research or taught courses. There are no exactly right answers to these questions and you will obviously have to think about what suits you best (along, of course, the money aspect). Good luck!

#anonymous #ask #school stuff

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 2 years

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Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello x fem. reader long fic where it’s their 9 month old baby daughter’s first Christmas and reader melts at the sight of Joe holding their daughter and showing her all of the presents she’s got and their daughter says dada and Joe and reader light up at how much of a daddy’s girl she is and reader thinks about how when she signed up to play an extra on Bohemian Rhapsody that she never thought she would end up falling in love on set?

of course!

FIRST CHRISTMAS

pairings: Joe Mazzello x Fem!reader summary: ^^^ warnings: None note: y/d/n stands for your daughters name

"oh and look at this!" you heard your husband say downstairs.

you walked downstairs and caught Joe holding your little daughter while showing her the christmas gifts she had gotten

she giggled and took it off him, throwing it on the floor

"no, no. don't throw it, play with it" Joe picked up the care bear and put in front of your daughter and waving it around

"well good morning" you yawned.

Joe looked up and you and smiled like an idiot, your daughter looked over and laughed

"good morning, darling" Joe greeted

"Merry christmas" you walked up the them, sitting on the couch, leaning down to kiss Joe who was situated on the floor, next to the lit up tree.

"how long have you been up?" you asked him and they looked like they have been there a while

"i took her down here about thirty minutes ago, I wanted her to see her presents" he shrugged

"and you couldn't wait for me?"

"not really no, you looked to cute to wake up" you looked back down and your daughter and made a silly face at Y/D/N before looking back up at you

"you should've just woken me up" you stated, looking down at your little baby, you've always noticed how much she looks like Joe. a spitting image of him, but she looked too much like him right now and it made your heart swell.

"I'm sorry, I was just too excited" he confessed, holding your daughter against his chest

you let out a breathy chuckle and closed your eyes.

"dada" Y/D/N whined, pointing at more presents under the tree

Joe pulled her away from his chest and looked at her, his mouth was agape and he looked like he was about to cry

"darling, did you hear that?" Joe asked you

you shuffled closer to them and smiled at him even though he was focused on your baby

"I did joe, I heard it clear as day"

you rubbed joe's arms from behind and rested your chin on shoulder, looking down at your little daughter, smiling at her gratefully

"I told you she was a dada's girl" he whispered to you, finally looking away from her.

"I never doubted it"

"I love you" he said kissing you softly

"I love you too" you smiled at him sweetly

"what did you want, sweetie?" Joe asked your daughter

you thought back to when you were an extra on Bohemian Rhapsody and how you two met and what would've happened if you didn't.

you were sitting down on your phone, waiting with other extras to be called on to go on in the scene, you were focused

"hey, you" you looked up and noticed the director standing front of me

"yes?" you smiled politely.

"I need you to go get joe, he's on in 5" he said.

"alright" you stood up and went out to the trailers, looking at the doors for him name written on it.

Rami, Ben, Joe.

you go up to the door and knock three times and waiting for a response

"come in" he replied through the door

he probably thought it was ben.

I opened the door slowly and peeked in, seeing him in his little couch on his phone

"the director wants you to know that you're on in 5" you stated as you entered his view

he didn't respond to you though, you though he was being rude and just ignoring you but the look on his face made you feel otherwise.

his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were relaxed, he looked sort of dazed and off in the clouds, it didn't make you uncomfortable per se, you just felt weak under his gaze.

"excuse me?" you forced yourself to say to snap him out of his daydream

"oh, right ok. just wait there" he said as he saw you were about to leave.

he put his phone away and got up. walking towards you

"who are you, exactly?" he questioned as you waked down the steps with him behind you

"I'm an extra" you responded

"no I meant your name" he chuckled

"oh um, Y/n"

"I'm joe" he smiled warmly

"I know" you took a deep breath

"do you now?" he responded in amusement

"well yeah, I feel like I have to" you smiled sheepishly

"you have a really pretty smile" he told you, looking down at your lips to your eyes.

"oh" you let out an embarrassed laugh as you looked down, tucking a piece of your curled hair behind your ear

"thanks"

"I'm sorry, just the way you're sweet, cute and beautiful at the same time is beyond me"

"oh my god" you muttered to yourself, you felt your cheeks turn warm and your stomach did flips.

"ok so wait other than taking my breath away what do you do for a living?" he smirked playfully. you turned you head away and covered your face with your hands.

"never heard that one before" you laughed, still looking anywhere but at him

"get used to it" he said

"this is the best christmas" Joe sighed happily

#joe mazzello #joseph mazzello #bohemian rhapsody #bohrap cast #bohrap boys #bohrhap #queen band #john deacon #imagines #christmas #ben hardy #rami malek #gwilym lee #jurrassic park #fluff #joe mazzelo x reader

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fvji-kvjakv · 1 year

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DIRECTOR’S CUT AND COMMENTARY

OPENING NOTES:

hello hello!!! i’ve always wanted to do a commentary and for my first to be for this fic, i couldn’t even begin to say how pleased i am. over the last few months, this fic has been my baby: i don’t write plot, i don’t like fluff, but this prompt just called out to me and i knew i could finally write the comedy of my dreams.

the reason i called it supercut is explained later in the fic, so i hope you manage to catch that line! as far as characterisation goes, i think it’s a kind of dynamic you can expect from two people who have only been around each other all their lives. there’s nothing else there until you see them apart. they just gravitate towards each other. the reason i mainly shed light on san’s character through flashbacks was because i needed there to be the perfect level of “you are my past, present and future” for me. this was just what worked.

what you have received is exactly what my humour is, unfortunately, so i only pray you find this fic funny as well. written with no purpose but to make readers laugh, i hope supercut was enjoyable to read, and i can’t wait to see if anyone managed to pick out all the real scenarios from this fic considering there are so MANY, some of which i mention in this commentary.

but i have to say before i start that i do not remember writing any of this for most part, so i’ll only be talking about little easter eggs i’ve thrown in here that i only noticed during this reread. with that out of the way, let’s begin!

COMMENTARY:

And then he’s out like a light. As San slumbers next to him, Wooyoung can’t help but wonder if the human heart was meant to beat this loudly.

ok. so. what a way to start. i don’t actually have much to say about the scene generally, apart from that i only wrote this to set the tone and shed some light on what wooyoung and san’s relationship used to be and what it eventually evolves into.

Wooyoung had snorted, and the visual of Mingi walking into a glass wall right then had immediately changed the subject, and that was the end of that.

inspired by the time i ran full speed into a wall of glass and cried about it bc i got made fun of by my cousins

Wooyoung calls it objective admiration and Yeosang calls it bullshit. Jongho usually likes to stay out of their business.

very much inspired by my group of friends

“House,” Wooyoung says. “He says to bring bitches.”

“I’m already bringing you, though,” San immediately answers, and then ducks when Wooyoung throws a pillow at him. “Who’s going?”

this is. so funny to me personally. this fic became a very weird amalgamation of american and english humour and you can really tell when you start to read: there are some specific english vocabularies used later to mark the difference, but the reason i mixed things up (as far as i remember), is because as an international student abroad, your humour tends to match up in a lot of funky ways. i think it is inevitable to kind of. end up with layers. to You as a person esp with forced proximity and a change in environment but i love it because it describes my friends and i very accurately! (can u tell i wrote supercut with my loved ones in mind)

“Proudly,” San sneers, and then he chugs half the carton in one go. “Now scram. I can feel you staring. I know I’m the sexy husband but I’m not just a hot piece of ass, you know.”

this is directly taken from conversations i’ve had with friends where we roleplay as a really messy friend group. married to. each other

Wooyoung is deep into Yeosang’s bottle of Captain Morgan’s

all we did first year was drink rum <3

Yeosang has been trying to roll a joint for the better half of the last hour while his boyfriend watches helplessly and the others are playing the world’s most intense round of Monopoly Deal when the doorbell rings.

the amt of times i have been yeosang here. and also the amt of times i’ve had game nights with friends and family and it always ends with violence

“So,” Yeosang starts, “Monthly BDSM test?”

Wooyoung turns his phone back on.

idk what to tell u. my friends and i did this monthly just to mess with each other

“Your mum,” Yeosang says.

Jongho just whistles and reaches for a high five. “Nice.”

San glares. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang nods casually, blowing a blueberry-flavoured stream of vapour at San’s face. “Twelve inches in your mum.”

very real conversation i heard my cousin say to another player when we were 12 years old and fucking with them online over a game of cod (minus the vape)

It’s so loose, kief falling from the tip, that even San just stares at him. “Yes, I know it sucks. Jongho—”

#throwback to the time my horrid rolling skills let me down at what felt like rock bottom

Wooyoung tiredly wipes a bead of sweat from his temple before bringing his hand to wipe away the juice all over his mouth. He’s made a mess, he thinks, eyeing the green stickiness all over his palm. His brother’s going to tease him all over again.

this is nothing more than what used to be routine for me: my uncle had a car and he would usually take all of us to the park and then to the harbour where we’d get slushies and popsicles while we watched the sunset…!

San babbling next to him about the newest Digimon game his sister has gifted

this was actually a very common occurrence in my household growing up, though i do have to confess it was mostly about pokémon! we were little nerds on picnics with our gameboys out <3

“I bet you liked it.”

The silence is deafening.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jongho asks gently. “I genuinely want to know.”

i was jongho in this scene

“Don’t you make playlists all the time?”

part of the reason why this prompt called out to me is that the main arc is making playlists — something i do constantly all the time because it’s a big love language of mine. it just felt a little funny, picking apart my whole life, only to end up with this fic. but i think that’s why this one will always mean so much!

Glimmering smiles over the edges of wine. Hushed commentaries about the relevance of Gossip Girl in today’s climate and frozen pizza.

Things inevitably go back to normal as things always do.

there’s nothing for me to comment on i just really like this bit

They’ve known each other for years—months weeks days hours minutes seconds—and Wooyoung doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that San has conveniently wiped their history away, leaving nothing but a blank slate.

the reason i highlighted this was because i needed it to be emphasised just How long they have known each other like how many seconds in those years have they spent together and with each other. a little crazy

San is humming along to the opening notes of Mr. Brightside

have u lived in england if u haven’t sung this on every night out actually

“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone to this song,” he blurts.

my best friend and i had a very serious discussion about him wanting to do this and i’m glad to update everyone with news that he has succeeded thumbs up emoji

“This is going to sound awful,” Jongho finally says, laughing under his breath as he leans back in his seat, a distant look on his face. “But probably when I realised I’d let him roll shitty joints for me forever.”

this is 100% real one of my friends said this to my face

“Put that camera away!” Wooyoung yells, “What are you waiting for?”

this seems much. bigger than it actually is. but this is taken from the time i went on a trip around uk and did a lot of hiking with my friends. we were setting off fireworks to celebrate the new year, and one of my friends who’s a photographer wouldn’t come set them off because he was too busy taking pictures of us!

“On God, man.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Anyway, when is our train tonight?”

“Oh, it’s—”

this entire phone call. i was asleep, hungover and also sick to boot, and my cousin who’s about 8 hours ahead had called me without realising i was majorly unwell. it went exactly like this, only for him to ask me where his girlfriend was. of course, i hung up on him without further response.

Tonight, every single one of them was in Leeds for the weekend—they got an Airbnb, they stole their host’s rolling paper while arguing that there shouldn’t have been rolling paper in the first place, and then they cracked the bottles out once they started getting ready, long-winded compilations of Max Verstappen and Charles LeClerc playing in the background, courtesy of Jung Yunho’s current Formula 1 phase.

those who have my twitter will know what this is about. but basically. me and moot were in london bc she was visiting me and we literally ran out of rolling paper on the second day in the middle of her getting me into f1. we checked all over the place and what do u know. the paper is right there. it should not have been there but thank u olga. if u are seeing this that is why u have a new set of rolling papers in ur drawer i felt really bad and wanted to get a new one for u

Wooyoung just lets out a breathless laugh before he promptly turns around, letting San settle behind him. Dizzee Rascal blares from the speakers, the familiar beat thundering through his veins.

the song is dance wiv me btw this is one of the three songs my friends and i Must play during pres before we go out

“Go piss, girl,” comes Yeosang’s voice.

no comment i just think this is so funny

Wooyoung knows one thing: he can’t make this shit up anymore.

also no comment but <3 this is tian’s line <3 thank u for the feedback and support i luv u so much

jongho: fuck mondays…… i mean its just another day to me but for the school students out there, fuck mondays……

ANOTHER REAL CONVO nier. never change. i love you

When Wooyoung is sixteen, pants around his ankles while he takes the biggest shit of his life to Eminem’s Ass Like That, his girlfriend dumps him.

umm. also real. i was literally mid shit when the guy i was seeing ended things over text and all i said was “ok cool be well king 🙏”

San is already watching him, hand raised to bring his beer to his mouth. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips, gaze terribly warm and tender. Slow and unbothered. Somehow, they always find each other. The music disappears until it’s just the two of them. You’re my best friend. I’m living. Young-ah. San is looking at him like he knows something Wooyoung doesn’t again. Does that taste good? You’re my forever. What are you waiting for? San takes a step, then two, and then he’s walking over. Young-ah, Young-ah, Young-ah. You’re my forever, San’s voice echoes.

this entire paragraph. it means so much to me. i think my style has changed so much since the first fic i had ever written for ateez, and i would like to think that all the experiences i’ve had here, with everyone around me, i have grown. as a writer and as a person. to be honest, i think i spoiled myself with this fic and i can never go back to writing dirty things like i used to. i think this is the kind of writing i am meant to produce.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung breathes. He nods once, twice. “Okay. I love you too.”

okay. so. this. i couldn’t make them get together in a flashy, manic way. it needed to feel natural, and what i felt was that these two knew it was the right time, that it is finally time to take the next step. because it makes sense and because it is as natural as breathing. and so it is. like that.

Their walk home isn’t rushed as Wooyoung expects. They take the ten minutes and walk around aimlessly in circles until it’s been at least an hour of San telling Wooyoung what his day has been like until they reach their place.

THIS PART!!!!! again, back to it being natural. it is just another day for them, all things considered, so it just makes sense to keep going about life as they always do. they’ll figure it out together.

The bell dings once they’ve reached their floor, and instead of stepping out of the elevator, San keeps on kissing Wooyoung like he knows he will be able to do it again.

you don’t know. how obsessed i am with this line. that san finally knows he can kiss wooyoung. that he can keep doing it forever. or as long as wooyoung wants because he’s been waiting for so long. waiting for wooyoung to catch up.

He shakes when San presses a finger inside him and he laughs when San says I love you against his belly.

they are just so!!!! elated!!!!! and giddy!!!!!!!!!!!

They talk about anything and everything and Wooyoung cries himself laughing when San tells him that after the seduction attempt, San had jacked himself off and cried because he had felt so guilty about defiling the memory of his best friend in his head.

I’M SORRY LIKE. THE VISUAL WAS TOO FUNNY NOT TO WRITE

Watches San moan Wooyoung’s name until Wooyoung’s hips are stuttering on every gasp. Watches as San falls in love with him a million times in a matter of seconds.

just another line that i Especially love <3

as for the sex scene, i actually didn’t want to write it at first. i originally only had two little paragraphs dedicated to the scene because i had wanted to step away from smut and see things without a nsfw lens. but then they started acting up. i had to write Something even if it was miniscule and not at all my style <3

“I was born by C-section so I’m a gold star gay,” Yeosang says smoothly, not even missing a beat. “No vaginas on my record.”

THIS IS REAL I PROMISE we now refer to the guy who said this to my best friend as “c-section gay”

“You absolute bellend,” Wooyoung says, shooting Yeosang a venomous glare.

“You’re already learning!”

only because my two favourite aggressively english words to use are “cunt” and “bellend”

wooyoung: why do my feet always feel so warm when i wake up

yeosang: we don’t want to hear abt ur feet wooyoung

san: @wooyoung sorry ill stop

taken from the time nier admitted to liking my feet

“Wait, did you buy another Polo pack again? I can’t fucking taste anything, mate.”

my polo addiction… 🕊️💔

Just as he predicts, Yeosang and Jongho get back together. Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn on the other hand, he figures, is not for him to decide.

this entire scene is dedicated to my best friend who cried about them breaking up. update: she is keeping up to date with the matty healy dating rumours, and i have to say, i don’t think she is pleased.

San surprises him with a tub of ice cream and a Spotify playlist, sitting on a bench and talking for what seems like hours until they finally get up and start making their way back.

OK. THIS BIT. i intentionally made it sound like a throwaway line but it is not. it’s overshadowed by the Very dirty sex implied right after, but this is the first time san ever makes a playlist. and he intentionally made it for wooyoung who is his sole audience. it just felt fitting to end with a playlist since it begins with a playlist. full circle, lads.

CLOSING NOTES:

PHEW. what a ride. i didn’t realise i had so much to say in so little, but i’m thankful. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i may not remember much, but the few memories i have are all good.

this fic made me want to Write again after years of staying away from plot. i think i’m one step closer to figuring myself out. additionally, thank you to all of my friends who took the time out of their day to encourage me to write this, i cannot thank you enough. i can’t wait to write another fic for you soon.

see you when the next one comes out, my loves! <3

#faith's fic commentaries #ao3 suijin #woosan #ateez

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