#while acting according to a script or not

[stairset]

I think Mortis and World Between Worlds should've been incorporated into the plot of the sequel trilogy but also I'm glad they weren't cause they absolutely would've fucked it up

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Overcome Imposter Syndrome & Perfectionism

How To Overcome Imposter Syndrome:

Keep Your Ideal Self Top of Mind: While you can't ever truly "fake it until you make it," it is essential to cultivate the belief that can act in accordance with your ideal self. Consider what the ideal version of yourself would do on a daily basis: What would your morning routine/night routine look like? How would you prioritize tasks or activities throughout your day? What would you consider your metrics for a successful project, task, social interaction, or professional activity? How would you describe a productive day, week, or month? Qualify and quantify these ideal metrics to give yourself a blueprint to move forward toward your goals and become the best version of yourself.

Competence Builds Confidence: Remember that the notion of an "overnight success story" is a fallacy. Quickly-awarded achievements, seemingly effortless skill sets, or having the perfect script for every occasion typically stem from hours or years of practice, experiences, studying, self-development, and trial and error. Over time, you refine these crafts until you can consider them as strengths. This inner knowing gives you the self-assurance needed to truly believe in yourself and it's contagious in your work, speech, and body language. Competence radiates inner confidence, without a question.

Remember Everything Is Relative: Logically, we know that comparing the middle of someone's journey to the beginning of yours doesn't make any sense. While it can be intimidating to enter the ring as a beginner, remember that the most skilled and successful people you know were at one point at square one. The only way to catch up to those you admire is to make an effort in the first place. However, because you're a beginner, give yourself some grace and remember that making mistakes is part of the learning process. It is better to fail in the beginning before people have certain expectations of you. But, the truth is, no one truly knows what they're doing. More time existing and life experience only helps us make better judgments to more accurately assess the proper next move.

Perceive Attempts As Data: Success is all about pattern recognition. See what "inputs" derive certain "outputs." Some attempts – at a certain career path, academic concentration, interpersonal interactions – will be advantageous with many that are neutral and some that go sour. Do not allow an unanswered email to a pitch, a lower grade on an assignment, or an ending of any type of relationship to feel like a moral failure and as a marker of your worth (personally, professionally, etc.). Evaluate what you did correctly and seek out areas for improvement. The more attempts you make, the more data you collect in order to help you make accurate assessments going forward. Consider this your motivation to start.

Accept Failures As Life Lessons: Failures offer a unique opportunity for self-reflection and course correction. Consider the mistakes that lead you to a negative outcome or the unfavorable circumstances you entered into (e.g. not studying for a test or already seeing red flags during the job interview). Use these opportunities to refine your strategies to succeed. While failures might not be inherently positive in the short term, failing fast saves you a lot of trouble along the way.

How To Overcome Perfectionism:

Find Stupidly Small Ways To Start: Write the title on a document and some keywords you want to use; Write an introductory sentence to an email; Place the first photo on the collage; Mix the spices together for a dish –literally anything to get you started on the task at hand. Give yourself a small push to gain momentum to keep going.

Set A Timer: Gamify any task by making it a race against the clock. Set a timer for 10, 20, or 30 minutes to see how much you can get done with a short spurt for hyper-focus. Focus on output, not outcomes when using this method. Remember: You can always go back and edit a project or refine the details of a space, meal, or task after. You will probably surprise yourself with how much you get done and how quick it is to elevate the standard of any timed work.

Consider Consequences of Delayed Action: Procrastination is perfectionism's greatest frenemy. The quicker you are to begin a task or strategize how to initiate a conversation, the more likely you will be to make it happen and give yourself the brain space to mull over the ideas before sharing the final product. Shitty first drafts of anything in life are welcomed. You can always edit later before finishing or showcasing something you want to take pride in. A step forward gives you guidance toward the right path. A step backward provides insight into how to strategize to win in the future. The only guaranteed way to never achieve greatness in a certain area of life is to not start in the first place.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Sheer Desire

A/N: So this was definitely not planned to be the first thing I post in the new year. In fact, it started as a kinktober prompt (stockings & lingerie) that got sidelined and seemed to double like bread dough while I wasn’t looking. I wanted to finish up the last few holiday-ish things that I had planned and get them up this week... but Frankie had other plans. And who tf am I to stop him? This follows along with the other Frankie x Reader pieces I’ve written, but can also be read as a stand alone. I hope you enjoy!! 

WC: 8.7k 

Warnings: language, smut, Francisco Morales’ mouth ;) 

Summary: You and Frankie attend Benny’s wedding together, and he struggles to keep his hands to himself the whole night. Until he doesn’t have to. That’s it, that’s the fic. 

Look at that. Seven whole minutes to spare. 

Blowing out a relieved breath, you pulled into one of the few remaining spots in the area of the hotel lot cordoned off for event parking, the signs reading Welcome to the wedding of Alana Ruiz & Benjamin Miller in gold script. You knew you’d be cutting it close, working an open shift at the bar and then racing home to clean up, change and grab your things for the weekend before hitting the road and making the two and a half hour drive down to Marco Island, but there hadn’t been another option. It was the first major event that Frankie had invited you to since you’d taken the next step in your relationship, so you’d done what you had to to make it work. I’m just glad I’m not late. 

Picking up your phone from the cup holder, you sent a quick text to let Frankie know that you’d made it. He and the rest of the wedding party had gotten there the night before for the rehearsal dinner, and he had been checking in with you every few hours throughout the day to make sure that nothing had changed as far as your ETA. You knew that it was partially because of his military background, wanting to make sure that things were running according to plan. But as you scrolled through the messages he’d sent, you couldn’t help the smile that curved your lips. But it's also because he’s excited. 

Your smile grew as you set the device back in the cupholder and reached down to slide off the flip flops you’d worn to drive in. Tossing them to the floor on the passenger side, you grabbed the pair of sheer black stockings that you’d shoved in your purse on your way out the door. You’d been unsure if you wanted to wear them, and you didn’t have time to decide before you left. But as soon as they were in your hand, you pictured the way they would look balled up in Frankie’s grip later in the night, and the fire that flared in you at that image made the decision for you. 

Taking a few seconds, you rolled them up your legs and then shoved your feet into the pair of low wedge heels you’d chosen for the night. You checked your reflection in the visor mirror, touching up your lipstick with the tip of your pinky finger. Okay, good to go. You took a breath, and then you took your phone and purse and hurried towards the walkway that led to where the rows of chairs were set up overlooking the water. Here I come, Frankie. 

– – – 

The ceremony was beautiful. It had been timed almost perfectly so that the sunset painted the Gulf in shades of rosy copper and ripples of indigo, the shadowy silhouettes of palm trees acting as a backdrop for the I do’s. Benny and Alana had chosen to write their own vows, and Alana’s brother had been the one to officiate, so it had been intimate and personal, the love and happiness between the two of them absolutely tangible. 

As was the feeling of Frankie’s eyes on you from his place between Will and Pope on Benny’s right. All three of them looked fantastic in the brown suits that they wore, but your focus was only on the man in the middle. Damn, Morales. 

You locked your gaze with his and smiled, mouthing the word hi. Your lower lip slipped between your teeth at the way he lifted his hand away from his leg just enough to give you a covert wave. Oh, look at him. His cheek rose in a lopsided grin that only made him more attractive - especially when you noticed his dimple peeking through one of the patches in his beard. 

You’d been falling in love with Frankie for months, finding yourself a little deeper in it every day. But you took a steep tumble that night. 

And though you had ended up spending most of the cocktail hour on your own, Frankie and the others wrapped up in greeting guests and taking pictures, when he finally did get his arms around you, you felt that he was already there, ready to catch you. Ready to dive in even further with you.

“Hey,” he said, his hands finding their way to your waist as soon as you were in reach, his lips seeking yours the second the single syllable left them. “Missed you.” His fingers flexed in the satin of your dress as he kissed you again, this time slower and longer, one hand rising up to cup the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, your smile pushing your cheek against his palm. “Glad you’re here.” 

“Hey yourself, Frankie.” Your left hand slid inside his jacket, smoothing over his side and around to press flat against his broad back. None of the groomsmen wore ties, so the fingers of your right hand curled around his lapel, that forearm resting against his chest. “Missed you, too.” You smiled against his lips as you continued to kiss him.  

As soon as he felt your lips part, his tongue slipped into your mouth to glide atop yours, stealing your breath, and then he was pulling back and bumping the tip of your nose with his. “You are so damn beautiful.” Both hands settled at your waist again as his eyes swept up and down your frame, noticing the way your dress hung on your hips to flare slightly at your knees, appreciating the low cut of the neckline and the small triangular cutout that was just visible under the knotted tie that embellished the top. And then he noticed your legs and the way they looked encased in sheer black nylon, so thin it was barely there at all, and he groaned. “Gonna have a hard time keeping my hands to myself for the next few hours.” 

That makes two of us. “You know, you clean up pretty well yourself, Morales. It’s not gonna be easy for me, either.” The hand that you had on his back came to join the other, gripping both lapels and tugging on them. You let out a small laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Guess it's a good thing we’re staying here then, huh?” Opening your eyes again, you arched one brow and smirked at him. “Two and a half hours isn’t a short drive and-” 

He cut you off then, eyes darkening as they narrowed slightly but never left yours. “If we were driving home tonight? I wouldn’t wait.” There was a raspy quality to his voice that wiped the teasing grin right off of your face as you realized what he meant. He had driven down with Pope the night before so that he could drive home with you, so you’d be in the same car. Oh, fuck. Your heart thudded hard, and you felt your eyes go wide as he leaned in to finish telling you what would happen on the ride home if you didn’t have a room for the weekend. “I can drive with my left hand, and the right one can-” 

Just then you heard your name being called from somewhere behind you. Frankie winked and let the rest of his words hang, knowing that you knew damn well what his free hand would be doing in that scenario. Oh, you are gonna be trouble tonight, Francisco. Tearing your eyes away from him, you looked up to see Pope walking over, his arm wrapped around the waist of a stunning brunette in a burgundy dress. Wait a minute, is that…

You glanced back up at Frankie, a smile spreading across your lips. “Is that Yovanna? I thought Pope said she couldn’t make it!”

“Yeah.” He nodded as you released the collar of his jacket, arms going back to your sides after reaching across your chest to secure the strap of your purse on your shoulder. “She flew in this morning to surprise him.” His chuckle turned his eyes light and warm again as his hands left your body, too, and it was clear to see how glad he was about his friend’s happiness. Good. He deserves it. They all do. 

Your eyebrows flew up. “Wow, that’s a hell of a surprise. I bet he was excited.” 

“He was. Shoulda seen his face when she called from the airport.” Frankie leaned down to drop a kiss to your temple as the other couple came within a few strides of where you stood. “Surprises are nice,” he whispered in your ear. “But I liked knowing you were gonna be here.” I did, too.

Pope reached for you then, giving you a hug and introducing you to the woman you’d heard so much about but had yet to meet, and then the four of you went to catch up with Will at the bar, Frankie’s fingers laced with yours as you walked. Your group was joined by the two bridesmaids that had walked down the aisle with Will, both women eyeing the older Miller brother. His and Benny’s cousin Mark was supposed to have been the fourth groomsman, but he’d broken his leg in three places just a few weeks out from the wedding and was in a full hip to toe fiberglass cast. To keep anyone from having to walk alone, Will had been assigned both of Alana’s college roommates - who also happened to be the only two of the four bridesmaids that were single - and it seemed as though neither of them cared that he had his arms around them both. Oh, this is going to be a fun night. You grinned as you finished your drink, an autumn evening breeze sweeping through the courtyard. 

–  –  –

It hadn’t dawned on you that you and Frankie had never danced together until the DJ opened the floor for all couples to join the bride and groom. 

When else would we have, though?     

Despite all the milestones and things you had shared since things had become more serious, and even though there were definitely more important and significant bridges to cross in the future, the feeling that you got when he led you out amongst the sea of couples was one of pure elation. It swirled in your chest, and if it weren’t for the way his arms kept you grounded as he took you in his hold, you would have thought it possible for you to float away. Doing new things with him - even something as normal as dancing together at a friend’s wedding - made you realize that you wanted to do everything with him. 

Frankie clasped your hand in his and brought it to his chest, his other hand sliding south into the dip at the base of your spine. With his next swaying step he pressed you closer, shrinking the space between your bodies until you could feel each breath that filled his lungs and the way that his heart beat didn’t match the slow cadence of the song that you were dancing to. Mine doesn’t either, though. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in through your nose, the arm you had around his torso tightening to mirror the hold he had on you. Frankie’s cologne - mixed with the scent of the smoky whiskey he drank at the cocktail hour - nearly overwhelmed your senses as you laid your head against his shoulder, your head spinning as you let your breath back out. He smells so damn good. The slow sweep of his thumb up and down your back sent a tingle through your bloodstream that only intensified when you felt his lips brush your forehead, where he left a featherlight kiss and two whispered words. 

“Thank you.” 

Eyes opening, you squeezed his hand and picked your head up to meet his gaze. Despite the fact that the dance floor was packed with couples - the two of you had bumped shoulders with Pope and Yovanna on one side, and the newly minted Millers on the other - he was all you could see. And he’s all I want. You smiled, head tilted to one side as you blinked at him. “For what?” 

Raising your joined hands to his lips, he kissed your curled fingers before returning them to where they were. “For this. Tonight. Being my date.” He swallowed, your eyes flicking down to track the movement of his throat before coming back up to his face. “For showing up for me.” 

“Frankie,” you spoke his name softly, leaning in to nuzzle the ridge of your nose against the line of his jaw, his normal scruff cropped closer to his face for the occasion but still long enough for you to feel it. I’ll always show up for you, Francisco Morales. As long as you want me to. 

“For everything.” He sighed, flexing the fingers of his right hand against your back, the tips pushing into the material of your dress and your flesh beneath it. There was no space left between you to eliminate, but that didn’t seem to matter to him as he urged you closer. “I don’t thank you enough.” 

You closed your eyes and let him tuck you into his chest as the song continued, his arm wrapping more tightly around you. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, making it easy for you to press your lips to his neck. His skin was warm where you kissed him, and you trailed a few more small kisses up towards his ear, the soft curls behind it tickling your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Frankie,” you whispered. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

“I do, though.” He surprised you then, picking up the hand that was twined with yours and looping it around you at the same time that he used the one resting on your spine to turn you. Oh, alright. You gasped, the sound becoming a small laugh and then a warm hum as his arms resettled around your waist with yours crossed over one another, your back to his front and his chin over your shoulder. “And when we get up to our room later?” He curved his free hand around your hip and pulled you to him, so that his next two words could only be taken one way. “I will.”

A shiver ran from the shell of your ear down to your toes, your body responding by sending waves of heat to crash through your lower belly. Fuck, Frankie. He waited a few beats before turning you back to your original hold, and you were grateful for the time to get your suddenly racing heart somewhat under control. When you were face to face again, you opened your eyes to see just a touch of smugness in his grin. Because you know just what you’re doing, don’t you? The sincerity of what he’d been saying just before he set you ablaze, though, was still the most prominent thing you saw in his expression. 

“Oh yeah?” You freed your hand from his and brought it up to his forehead to push a rogue curl back into place. It slipped stubbornly down again with his nod and you let it, your palm resting on his shoulder momentarily. “Well I like the sound of that, Frankie.” 

His eyes flashed, and it didn’t matter that the courtyard was strung with small bulbs of golden light or that beyond them, the whole night sky was on display. That look…  His hand came up to his shoulder to scoop yours into it again, his thumb pressing into the cup of your palm before his fingers curled over your knuckles. “Good.” You could tell that the song you were dancing to was ending, and you knew that meant that in just a few moments you’d be seated at your table. But it seemed Frankie wasn’t done stirring things in you just to let them simmer for the next few hours. As the music began to fade out, he pulled you close and made sure that no one else could hear. “I like your sounds.” He nipped at your earlobe and you had to swallow a whimper. “Wanna hear ‘em all tonight.”  

Oh, don’t worry, you’re going to. 

You knew that wasn’t going to be an issue. Because of the way that you had to move your schedule around to take off the rest of the weekend and the following Monday, and since Frankie had Oliver the previous week, the two of you hadn’t spent the night together in a little over fourteen days. But now we’ve got three in a row. Just us. Before you could respond to what he’d said though, the DJ was thanking everyone for joining Benny and Alana for their first dance and asking that you all be seated for the toasts. Biting your lower lip in lieu of an answer, you shook your head as Frankie winked at you, and then you let him lead you to your table. 

Pope and Yovanna were already back, along with two of the bridesmaids and their spouses, but you passed Will as he made his way in the opposite direction, where the other two bridesmaids stood ready to start the toasts. You mouthed a “good luck” to him, the man giving you a bright grin as Frankie clapped him on the shoulder and mumbled, “Don’t fuck up, Ironhead.”  

“Yeah, fuck you too, Fish,” Will shot back under his breath as he elbowed Frankie, who snorted. 

The interaction was entirely commonplace for their group of friends, and it made you happy to know that after everything that the four of them had gone through together - some of which you understood that you might never know - they’d always have each other’s backs, always be there for one another during their best and worst times. You leaned into Frankie, your bare arm pressed to the sleeve of his jacket. And this is one of the good times. 

Turning your head, you kissed his bicep and hoped for nothing but good times for a long time. 

He pulled out a chair for you and you sank into it as he sat in the one next to it, listening intently as Will delivered a heartfelt toast to his little brother and new sister-in-law. Ending it by raising his glass, Will asked that everyone do the same. After listening to the things he said - about love, trust, growth and support, and how the best relationships, like Benny and Alana’s, had all of those things - you weren’t surprised to find that your eyes were damp as you took a sip of champagne. 

Because… You swallowed, watery eyes shifting to the man beside you. Because so do we. Clearing your throat, you swallowed again, though this time it was a lump of emotion instead of a bubbly beverage. “Will’s too good at public speaking.” You sniffed, leaning over towards Frankie, indicating the tears shining in your eyes.

He let out a small laugh, but you could see that the speech had struck a chord with him as well.  “He is,” Frankie agreed, reaching over to brush away some of the wetness you missed on your cheek. 

Will was finishing up by wrapping Benny and Alana in a hug, and then he handed the microphone over to the two women who were making a toast together, before making his way back to your group. You set your glass back down as you felt Frankie’s hand cover your knee under the table. He’d gathered the skirt of your dress up, pushing it aside so that his thumb could slowly stroke over the sheer material stretched over your legs, and though you were still thinking about what Will had just said, you were immediately distracted by what Frankie was doing. The way that his touch roved inward and higher up your thigh sent a fresh flood of heat into your belly, his warm exhale against your skin as he leaned close to whisper to you while Alana’s maid of honor continued her part of the speech only making it that much more difficult to pay attention.  

“I know I said it already but.. you look incredible tonight.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You always do.’ Before you could respond, he lightly squeezed your leg, fingers tightening just above your knee before spreading out over the thin barrier between his flesh and yours. “These things are drivin’ me crazy, though.” He dug his fingertips in just enough to test the elasticity, letting out a quiet but throaty sigh as he relaxed his grip again. The sound made your eyes snap up to meet his, their depths darkened by his next few words. Oh, shit.  “I wanna see them. But I also can’t wait to get them off you.” 

The space around you broke out in good-natured laughter at something that Megan said in her toast, but you had no idea what it was because at that exact moment, Frankie’s hand slid higher up your leg - high enough for him to realize that it wasn’t a pair of regular pantyhose that you were wearing. They were thigh high stockings, topped with delicate black lace that hugged your legs. His eyes widened, a bolt of desire crashing through them that you swore you could feel. 

Because that means… “You can take them off, Frankie.” You sucked in a breath as his thumbnail lightly scraped over the embellished top and onto your skin before sliding beneath the elastic, your heart hammering. “But you don’t have to.” 

He stared at you then, his whole chest expanding with his inhale, and even though you were having a great time celebrating the new Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you couldn’t wait to get up to your hotel room so you could let that spark catch and consume you. Can’t leave yet though. 

“Oh, I will.” He arched one brow, gently pressing the thumb that was still beneath your stocking into the flesh of your thigh. “Eventually.” 

That time when the toast ended and you were supposed to drink to the newlyweds, neither of you had your glass in hand. You hadn’t even noticed the cheers and applause, the flashes of photos being taken. Instead, you stared at the flick of Frankie’s tongue as it poked between his lips to wet them, and you knew he was watching the way your breastbone rose and sank with your stunted breaths at the suggestions you both were making. 

I- we can’t… Not yet, it just… There were still hours left in the evening - dinner and dancing and celebrating and cake and pictures and… And he’s in the wedding party. He can’t disappear this early.  “Jesus, Frankie, the night just started and-”  

He withdrew his hand then, a devilish grin softening into something more teasing. “I know. Like I said…” He winked, lips twitching into a full on smile before pressing together as he nodded. “Eventually.” 

Oh, wearing these was definitely the right call. 

–  –  – 

A few hours - and several more less than subtle hints from both of you - later, your cheeks were sore from laughing and smiling. The party was starting to wind down, the clock ticking towards the end of the night, when you felt Frankie’s grip squeeze your leg under the table again. “Gonna go get one more drink from the bar.” He cocked his head to the side. “And then we can…” He let his sentence trail off, raising one eyebrow and slipping his thumb under the lacy elastic band around your thigh. “How’s that sound?” 

You sucked in a breath, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, leaning in to press his nose against your cheek, lips close to your ear. “Sounds.” Oh, fuck. “Be right back.”

With that he stood, following Pope and Will over to the bar. Yovanna had excused herself to use the restroom, so you were left alone at the table, your stomach swooping and your heart pounding. Your mind filled once more with the image that inspired your fashion choice for the night - Frankie’s thick, strong, rough fingers clutching the delicate sheers after removing them from your body - and you felt a ripple of excitement at how close you were to seeing it come true. Soon. So soon. He’s gonna come back and then- 

And then you snapped your head up as Benny’s voice hit your ear, the man grinning as he waved around the glass in his hand and made his way to your table. He was clearly drunk - but happily and pleasantly so, a slight stumble to his swagger but not at all inappropriate for a groom at his own wedding. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.  Pressing pause on the thoughts that were just about to run rampant as you stared dazedly out at the darkened beach beyond the dunes, you broke into a genuine smile of your own as he got closer. 

“Hey, Benny,” you pulled out the chair next to you, indicating that he could sit. “You just missed the guys, they went over to the-” 

The single cube of ice in his glass knocked against the side of it as he took a big swig of his beverage. Eyebrows gathered and forehead rumpled, he held up his free hand and mumbled an un-uh, shaking his head as he swallowed. “Nope, I came over to talk to you.” 

You laughed and cocked your head to the side. “Oh, yeah?”  

 “Yeah. Listen, I just-” He swung himself into the empty seat next to you with a sigh, setting his glass down next to Frankie’s discarded silverware. “I’m sorry Alana didn’t wanna do the whole,” he brought both hands in front of himself and mimed an over the shoulder throwing motion before continuing. “The whole toss the flowers thing.” The movement caused his whole body to tip to one side, both of your hands reaching out to stop him from falling off his seat. Though I don’t know if it would do anything. Luckily your help wasn’t necessary, Benny righting himself by gripping the table and shifting his weight. He closed one eye in an exaggerated wink and pointed at you with a grin. “Woulda put my money on you catchin’ it, and then…” He jerked his head towards the bar and waited for you to look over.

Though you already knew what you would see when you did, you still sucked in a breath at the sight of him, warmth spreading over your cheeks, and bursting in your chest. He’s… oh, look at him. Frankie stood waiting for drinks with Pope and Will, a deeply genuine laugh brightening his features as he jokingly smacked Pope’s shoulder, Will doubled over in laughter as well. It made you happy, seeing him like that, and you watched the three of them - focusing on Frankie - with a smile on your lips for a few more seconds before you turned back to face Benny. 

Suddenly, the meaning behind his words clicked, and you laughed, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine, Benny. It’s an outdated tradition anyway, and it takes time away from other things li-” 

He blew a breath out through his lips, cutting you off with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “No, but it's…” Your eyes widened in amusement as his flitted over your shoulder and brightened as he grinned. What is he doing? You didn’t need to wait long for your answer though, Benny raising one hand and waving to someone behind you. “Hey! Ang! C’mere.” Who is? You turned to see who he was talking to as one of the women in the bridal party - the one who had been partnered with Pope when they’d all walked down the aisle during the ceremony - came towards your table, her own small bouquet in hand. Oh, right, Angela. “Ang, lemme borrow that real quick, okay?” He gestured to her flowers. “Please?’

She leaned down with a huge smile on her face, placing one hand on the back of his chair, and kissed him on the cheek. “Anything for my brand new brother in law!” Dropping her bouquet in his lap, she laughed and clapped her hands. “I’m heading back to the dance floor while there’s still time, and when you’re done here I better see you out there twirling the shit out of my sister, Miller!” Laughing, she shimmied her way out towards the group of people on the floor,  Benny calling a ‘Yes ma’am!’ after her. 

“Benny,” you shook your head as he picked up the bundle of daisies and dahlias in his lap and glanced down at it. “What are you-” But you knew what he was doing the second you saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. Before you could get the final word of your question out, he sprung into action, flinging the bouquet at you. “What?!” You sputtered, hands flying out instinctively to catch what he’d thrown at you. “Why are you-” 

He just drummed his hands on the table top, some of the amber liquid in his glass almost sloshing up over the rim.. “See? I fuckin’ told you!” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a chuckle and hid your face behind the blossoms. “Benny…” You groaned, the sound devolving into a laugh. “You-” 

“What’s goin’ on over here, hmm?” Just then you felt Frankie’s solid presence behind you, one arm coming around your chair to set your drink on the table and press a kiss near your temple. Lowering the flowers to your lap, you closed your eyes as he let his lips linger long enough for you to feel him smile before he drew them away. Hi.  

“What’s goin’ on, ‘Fish,” Benny stood and faked a punch at Frankie’s bicep, opening his fist and letting it clap over the older man’s shoulder instead. “Is that your girl here just caught the flowers, so you know what that means.” Without waiting for a response, he waggled his eyebrows and bent down to retrieve his glass. “Now if you two will excuse me, I need to go find my wife.” 

“Yeah, you go do that, Benjamin,” Frankie muttered, shaking his head and bringing one hand up to swipe downwards over his mouth, the corners of it twitching behind his palm. Benny shot you another wink before turning towards where Alana was dancing with Angela, Will, Pope and Yovanna. “Can’t help himself, can he?” He spoke under his breath, dropping his hand. 

“You know Benny.” You shrugged, laughing as you crossed one leg over the other. The hem of your dress slid up as you shifted your position, exposing more of your knee and thigh. Though the autumn breeze that swept through the night was cool enough to cause a quick chill, all you felt was fire when his eyes fell to your lap. Oh. He… fuck. 

The pink tip of Frankie’s tongue slid between the seam of his lips to wet them, and then he was leaning down to reach for the bundle of blossoms still sitting in your lap. “So you caught these, huh?” His fingers skated intentionally over the thin mesh of your stockings, knuckles pressing down against your knee as he wrapped his grip around the stems of the flowers. 

It was all you could do not to openly moan at the look in his eyes and the presence of his large hand curled around the bouquet resting atop your legs. Swallowing hard, you blinked and nodded. “Mmhmm.” You took a breath that made your whole chest heave as he lifted the flowers away, keeping his eyes on the sliver of your upper leg that he’d just uncovered. “Sure did.” Benny threw them at me, but same difference. 

Flipping the bouquet onto the table, he brought his now empty hand back to your lap and curved it around your top leg. “Well, I think that’s our cue then.” 

Oh, is it? Your heart slammed to a stop as he used his grip to uncross your legs, but it sped up again as his fingers shifted from your thigh to your hand. He reached down for the other one and pulled you to your feet, his own planted so close to you that when you stood you were nearly chest to chest. He’d discarded his jacket earlier - it hung on the back of his chair instead of across his shoulders - and his sleeves had been uncuffed and rolled to the elbow, so when his arms went around you, you could easily feel the warmth of his body through the white button down he wore. Head swimming and pulse thrumming, you leaned into his hold and suddenly couldn’t wait to be upstairs. But I thought he said… 

“Thought you said one more drink.” Your voice was thin and wispy, your words dissolving into a hum as he ducked his head to kiss behind your ear. Not that I’m complaining. There was music playing, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t hear it over the thoughts racing through your head. “You just-” You gasped as his tongue swept over your skin. Oh, shit. You swallowed. “You just stood in line at the bar, and we haven’t said goodnight to-”   

You weren’t actually trying to convince him to stay any longer, and he knew it. “We’ll come back down for a drink in the lobby later,” he growled into your neck. “Say goodnight to ‘em then.” You could feel his warm breath on your skin, vibrating in your blood. “They’re not gonna notice we’re gone, trust me.” His facial hair dragged over your throat as he moved his mouth up to nip at your earlobe, teeth catching on the inner ridge of your ear. “Wanna see you in those sexy fucking things you got on.” That’s why I wore them. He doubled down then, lowering his tone even more, his words dripping directly into your soul to shake it. “Wanna feel that lace clamped around my head while I-” 

“Fuck, Frankie, let’s…” You panted out a breath, leaning your forehead into his shoulder as he let out a short chuckle. “Yeah. Let’s go.”  

As soon as the words were out of your mouth he was in motion, gathering up his jacket and handing you your purse. The small black rectangle swung from the strap with the force of his hasty grab, and you had to laugh, teeth biting down into your bottom lip. God, we’re like two horny kids, it’s…  Frankie’s wide palm settled firmly on your back then, steady and strong and you let him guide you through the cluster of tables and away from the reception area. It’s crazy how much I want him. 

His fingers flexed as he moved his hand around to your hip, and as the door to the hotel lobby slid open, you looked up at him and the heat that had been pooling in your lower belly flooded through your entire body. 

Because when he looked down at you, you saw, you felt - you knew - that he wanted you just as much. I’m yours, Frankie. 

–  –  –  

Your dress was over your head and on the floor within seconds of stepping into the room. Frankie’s hands worked quickly to bolt the lock before removing your clothing and landing at your waist. A groan rumbled deep in his throat to make a breath catch in yours. Oh, that- Your fists tightened in the material of his shirt as the gravelly sound he made stirred the embers in your belly into flame. Tipping your head back, his name left your lips in a sigh as your eyes clamped shut.  

“Finally got you to myself.” His large palms roved up your sides, fingers flexing into your flesh as he leaned in to pin you to the door. Ducking his head so that his lips hovered just over the pulse point on your neck, you felt the vibrations of each syllable as he spoke. “All to myself.” 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, hands blindly moving to the buttons on his shirt and undoing the few that were still fastened. You sure do. He mouthed along the slope of your shoulder and then back up your throat, smiling when he felt you swallow. His touch wandered around to your back, climbing up and over the clasp of your bra, and you were emboldened by the sound - and feel - of another of his groans. Tongue flicking out to wet your lips, you challenged him. “What are you gonna do about it, Morales?” 

When he lifted his head to lock his eyes with yours, there was no need for him to answer your question with words. Oh fuck. You saw the same dark veil of desire fall over them that had been there from the start - when all you had were late night fucks, no feelings, all fast moves and finding release. But behind that, now you saw something else. Something that both deepened and brightened that darkness currently overtaking his brown eyes. Because now it’s… now we- 

Frankie dropped his gaze then, letting it rake all the way down your form as he took half a step back. “Fuck,” he muttered, chest heaving as he took in the view of your body. You felt the way his eyes lingered on the lacy band of your thigh highs for a few seconds, as though he were tracing the patterns and memorizing the way they looked stretched over the muscles of your legs. Hands following the trail that his eyes were blazing, he let them both settle low on your hips, thumbs swiping over the thin material of your underwear and into the crease where your thigh met your pelvis. “Look at you.” 

His eyes snapped back up to yours then, and there it was - desire, but not just to take. Not just to have you in his hands and take you into his bed, but to take you apart, peel pleasure from you in spirals. You sucked in a breath, letting it out in a quick exhale that you were sure he felt fan across his lips and cheek. He didn’t have to answer your question with words, but he did anyway. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do about it?” His voice was deep and raspy as he asked, and it was all you could do to nod in response. He pressed his thumbs more firmly into the space they occupied, the tip of his tongue flicking out to dampen his lips. “Gonna make you forget all about going back downstairs for that drink.” 

You were going to say something teasing or clever. Something witty or flirty. But that was before the corner of Frankie’s mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin that teemed with mischief. That was before his hands coasted over your curves as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, chin tilted up so he could appreciate you from a new angle. When he looks at me like that it's… A thin whimper broke loose from your lips, your breathing starting to become quicker and more shallow as you let him overwhelm you. And he hasn’t even done anything yet. Fuck. Instead of anything like what you were planning on saying, you opted for his name as you combed your fingernails through his hair. 

“Yeah?” He let his right hand wander to the back of your left thigh, fingertips running over the textured lace there. You shook your head. “What drink?” 

He let out a short huff of laughter, and then you gasped as his right hand plunged downwards between the elastic and your skin, the sheer fabric stretching over his knuckles as he gripped your flesh. “These are…” His other palm slid down the outside of your right leg, his eyes following his own movement. They widened, a quiet curse falling from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your calf, and then he lifted his gaze back up to find yours. “I like these.” Leaning forward, he laid his lips to the skin of that thigh, just above the edge of the band holding the barely-there garment up. You sighed at the warm drag of his mouth along the lace. “Like you in these.” 

He turned his face to give the same attention to your opposite thigh, the hair on his head brushing the skin he’d just lavished with his tongue and lips, the hair on his cheek and chin tickling your other leg as he kissed you there as well. That feels… Your eyes fell shut as your hand found its way into his curls, fingers weaving between them, and you let out a hum. “Thought you might, Frankie.” You opened your eyes again, lids heavy as you looked down at him. He tilted his head back to rest his chin on your kneecap. “Hoped you would.” 

“Did you?” He squeezed you gently as he asked, both hands kneading into your muscle. You responded with a whispered yes. “Well, as usual,” he mumbled, pausing to place another kiss to the inside of your left thigh, the sensation causing you to let out a breathless sigh, “you were right.” You shivered as you felt the light scrape of his teeth over the skin he’d just been focused on. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy all night knowing you had these on under that dress and-” You nearly went boneless as he pressed his forehead and nose to the front of your right thigh, groaning into your skin. “And that you put ‘em on for me.” 

“I did.” You practically panted out the words as your hands fell to his shoulders. Why is he still wearing clothes? “Did it in the car when I got here. Put ‘em on so you could take them off me, Frankie.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna. Wanna take everything off you.” His eyes flicked up to the matching black lingerie set that you wore, following the scalloped edges that hugged the swell of your breasts. “Just not yet.” 

He nuzzled higher up towards the apex of your thighs, his hot breath setting you ablaze as you suddenly realized - at the same time he did - that you were already soaked at just the hint of what was to come. Oh, fuck. 

The starving sound in his voice as he said your name cracked you open and turned everything inside of you to molten liquid. 

Oh, fuck, I… he-  His eyes flashed and then fell shut as his tongue pressed flat against the material of your underwear, and you couldn’t contain your moan if your life depended on it. And he wants to hear it. He swore under his breath, the string of half coherent curses vibrating through the damp material and sending sparks into your bloodstream. 

“Gonna start with these, though.” His tongue teased the edge of them, pushing beneath the elastic as he reached for the waistband with both hands. Teeth catching on the hem, he grinned and they snapped back against your skin. You inhaled sharply in a hiss as his fingers hooked in the band, the sparks in your veins bursting in tingling explosions. Wait! He needs to… he’s still dressed and - “They’re in my way. Wanna make you come on my tongue and-”

“Fuck, Frankie, wa- wait.” You gripped his shoulders, swallowing hard as your heart thundered and your head spun. Wetting your lips, you blinked down at him and took a few deep breaths. 

Hands stilling where he touched you, he leaned back to look up, eyes connecting instantly with yours. “You okay? What’s-” 

Before the crease between his brows could fully deepen, you shook your head and gave him a dizzy smile. “I’m fine.” Way more than fine. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. “Feeling kind of underdressed though.” Pulling at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, you raised one eyebrow. “C’mon, Frankie, take this off. I want to… need to touch you.” Your voice warbled in your throat as he leaned forward to brush a kiss right below your navel, that molten heat you felt before responding to his lips by pooling in that spot. 

You whimpered, imagining him trying to lick at that heat with his tongue. He released a throaty sigh and though you couldn’t be sure, you had a feeling he was imagining the same thing. 

You didn’t have to ask him twice to take his shirt off, and you knew it was because he was just as eager to feel your hands on his skin as you were to put them there. He stood at your urging, letting you help him with the few remaining buttons, and then your hands were slipping under the open sides of his shirt as his found their home near your hips. Moving your palms over his chest and up towards his shoulders, you shucked the dress shirt down onto his biceps, your touch roving around to his back. As soon as his torso was bared he pulled you flush to his body, and then it was your turn to trail your lips in places that made him hum and groan. Because I’ve been waiting all night for this, too. 

As the thought crossed your mind Frankie’s hips rolled into yours, and the feel of him - hard and thick and making his pants work to contain him - pulled another sound from you, this one grittier, needier, as you nipped at his jaw. Fuck, I’ve never… Your hands went back to the crooks of his elbows, where the sleeves of his shirt still hung on his frame, and you pushed them down his forearms. Never wanted anyone as much as I want this man. 

“Easy, killer.” He teased, using one hand to free the other from his sleeves and then switching so that his shirt finally dropped to the floor. Your fingers had flown to the zipper on his pants, fumbling with the button there by the time he encircled your wrists, his grip strong but gentle as he stroked your pulse point with his thumb. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He eased your hands away from his fly, leaving it open as he used his hold on you to lead you fully into the room. After a few steps, he turned you so that you were in front of him, and then instead of pulling, he lightly pushed you until you felt the edge of the mattress behind your legs. “And neither are you.” 

He pushed a little more firmly, just enough to make you tip backwards onto the bed, a small string of laughter spilling from you as the mattress bounced beneath your body. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as Frankie finished what you’d started with his pants. They fell around his ankles and then he stepped out of them, his grin growing wolfish as he closed the distance to kneel at the foot of the bed. 

“Now -” His palms slid up the sides of your thighs so that his fingers could find the band of your underwear again. “Think we were right… about…” Curling his digits, he tugged the material to pull it down, exposing your damp skin to the cool air of the hotel room and making you suck in a breath. “Here.” 

The last word came as his mouth descended on you, and within minutes you were ready to give him what he said he wanted before he took your tights off, your release slicking his chin and lips as one of your heels pressed into the shoulder blade that it was thrown over. When he finally lifted his head to look up at you, you panted out his name, breathless already. But I want more, I want- 

You wanted to feel him fill you, stretch you, needed him deeper than his tongue could delve. You wanted to watch the way his throat tightened as you clenched around him, wanted to see the way bliss blew the blackness in the center of his eyes outward towards the edges. You wanted to feel his muscles work against and with your own before they went slack and soft, needed the contrast of climax and the caresses that would follow. 

You wanted to fuck and then fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved with every cell in your being as the lazy sound of waves rolling up onto the sand floated through the balcony door.  

But before you could reach for him to coax him up towards you, he used the shoulder that was still under your leg to scoot you higher up on the bed. “M’not done with you yet.” One eyebrow pitched into an arch as he shook his head. “Not even close.” Shrugging your thigh down into the crook of his arm, he turned his face to press his lips - still partially coated in you - to your skin. “Gotta take these off, remember?” Moving his head and angling his chin, he opened his mouth and bit the lacey edge of your stockings. “S’why you put them on, right?” 

It sure fucking is. Frankie. All you could do was nod. 

Keeping the lace between his teeth, Frankie began to move slowly towards your ankle, peeling the fabric down over your knee. He paused there, lips grazing your skin, the bottom one obscured by the nylon that was stretched over it making the upper one feel warmer and softer. Oh, fuck. You let out a hum that you knew he heard, his eyes lifting from what he was doing to find yours as his hands continued to roam - one over your thigh, the other dragging down over your abdomen. 

“You like that?” His voice was a low, gritty rasp, the heat from his breath getting trapped between the sheer fabric and your skin, spreading down your shin. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “Feels good, Frankie.” 

That was an understatement. It felt like a goddamned blessing to know that this man wanted nothing more than to be undressing you with his teeth. That the only place he wanted to be in that moment - and he could be anywhere in the entire world - was right between your legs, tangled up in your limbs. It made you feel invincible and indestructible to know that he’d chosen you, that you had given your whole self to him and he’d accepted every piece of you, that he’d placed those pieces in his heart. It felt like pure passion and trust to love and be loved by Frankie Morales, especially when this was how he chose to show you. 

I fucking love him so much. 

He finally released his bite, letting go of the stocking which was bunched near your ankle, and then slipped two fingers between it and your skin to yank it off of your foot. “Gonna take the other one off, too.” 

At that, you groaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine. “No, Frankie, don’t… don’t tease. Need to… need, fuck, Frankie, I can’t wait any-” 

His chuckle was dark and deep and breathless. “Neither can I.” At that, he moved up the bed, reaching for a small box on the nightstand next to his wallet that you hadn’t noticed earlier - condoms, you realized in a haze as he tore open the package and deftly rolled the rubber over his length - and then he placed his lips next to your ear. “Gonna take the other one off… after.”

–  –  –  

It was late morning by the time the two of you made it back down to the lobby, the hotel staff busily tending to the continental breakfast buffet that you could see Pope, Yovanna, Will and a few of the girls from the bridal party partaking in, and as you let Frankie lead you over towards them, his hand solidly placed on the small of your back as Pope’s voice carried across the space ribbing the two of you with “Look what the cat dragged in!”, you could only think of two things - one, that Frankie had been right about the two of you not making it back for a goodnight drink, and two, that the pair of stockings now laying ruined on the floor of your room had been the best fashion choice you’d ever made in your life.

.

.

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, please feel free to let me know by sending a message or by filling out the form on my masterlist :)    

tags:  @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @alraedesigns @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11 @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura​ @thescarletfang​ ​ @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​

[astra-nomy]

how to get over the belief that you "can't shift" ☆ (getting rid of limiting beliefs)

HI THERE MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL STARS! I know it's been a while since I made an original post but I wanted to stop by because I've been getting increasingly more questions about this both from people on here and people in my real life. I actually enlisted help from @my-reality-my-rules for one of my friends and she was very helpful. I wanted to just come on here and make a little step by step list of how I would go about dissolving limiting beliefs.

I actually have had to do this before with one belief: I realized a good way into my shifting journey that I believed that shifting is real, but I didn't believe that I could do it. That it was a me problem, essentially. So here are the steps I took to kinda reframe that mindset and work on getting rid of that belief!

i. Identify your limiting belief

This is obviously very important—this can just be a self-reflection type thing, or you can ask your spirit guides. @alexaprentiss on Tik Tok I think I made a video about this (we all know how I feel about getting info from Tik Tok but I like this one) where you lie/sit down, get comfy, take some deep breaths, and when you feel that your mind is pretty clear, you ask yourself, "Why am I not shifting?" or "What's stopping me from getting what I want?" and the first thing that pops in your head is your answer. Repeat this as many times as you need to get a clear answer. Sometimes they require a little sleuthing—for example, a friend of mine got the word "fear," and she took some time to decipher that it meant she had a deep-rooted fear of getting hurt in her DR (it's a Marvel DR, so I think it's about, you know, the violence n stuff) and she had to change up her script a bit in accordance with that.

For me, I figured out my limiting belief before I saw that Tik Tok. I was just kinda reminiscing one day and kinda wondering what was stopping me or what was so hard about it, and it kinda just popped into my head that I didn't think I could do it. I knew that I believed in shifting as a concept but I didn't believe that I personally could do it. And it was kinda revolutionary for me? That's when I worked on figuring out the root of the problem and adopting a mindset that challenged that belief.

ii. try to understand why you have that specific belief—it can give you your solution

A lot of our limiting beliefs stem from other, more foundational beliefs. For example, mine came from the fact that I tend to overthink everything I do. Whether it's singing or acting, I tend to get in my own way and self sabotage. A common theme in my life is that I surprise myself with my own abilities when I don't think. So understanding why exactly I had this limiting belief led me to understand how I could fix it.

Try to understand why that limiting belief exists. If you got into shifting from its early Tik Tok days, you may believe it's hard because everyone treated it like it was a freaking battle back then. Then, once you understand that, you can take steps towards convincing yourself that it's easy.

iii. understand that it is just a belief, not facts

This is something that took me so long to recognize! Your limiting beliefs are just that—beliefs. They are not facts. Beliefs can be changed and modified if you have the will and determination, facts cannot. So don't look at your limiting beliefs as immovable roadblocks, look at them instead as little cuts that you need to take steps to heal. Don't be intimidated by them because even on your worst days you are infinitely stronger than them. The human mind can overcome so much, you can deal with a limiting belief or two.

iv. challenge it!

Once you've identified the belief and know why it's there, you can take steps to get rid of it. You can go about this however you want, but you really want your goal to be severing whatever emotional bond you may have with these limiting beliefs. Anytime you feel yourself slipping into that thinking that your limiting belief creates, cut it off as soon as you recognize it.

Use affirmations, visualize, hell you can even manifest a new belief thru the lullaby method (I like doing that one). Just do whatever you can to show that limiting belief who's the boss.

There you go! I hope this can help you guys out and help you to remove your limiting beliefs! Remember that absolutely nothing can stop you from shifting and you are the key to your success. Go shift by lovely stars!

Xx, Astra

[windypuddle]

WHO ARE THE GAY ENSTARS MEN ?! THE ONE WITH THE BLUE HAIR ?? THEIR ROMANCE WAS WORLD SHATTERING? ! I AM DESPERATE AND DEHYDRATED WHO ARE THEY

alright. i know you asked me this because im the Enstars Person you know so while i am not the expert on this i will try my best to answer! also drink water bestie

ok so im assuming you are talking about wataei because of the ship wars thing. and theyre the only ones i can think of that ive seen described like that recently.

alright so theres a common joke that eichi (blond one) started the war (massive social and school politics effort to reform the idol system in yumenosaki academy) because he had a crush on wataru (blue hair one). this is not true eichi started the war because he loves idols and wanted to make a fairer system for them.

this reform effort actually happened in two stages: the war was the first stage, where eichi made the five eccentrics the scapegoats for all the vices of the school, which worked because they were so good at being idols everyone saw them as otherworldly and not one of the rest of the human students. eichi, with his power as both student council president and Local Hella Rich Guy, orchestrated a battle of the bands system where he and his unit, fine (usually in this period referred to by fans as ex-fine) defeated each of the five eccentrics and brought supposedly equal chances for the students at the school. the main part of this rhetoric relied on framing the eccentrics as godlike beings, and fine as just regular humans, to show the student body that with hard work, even regular people can rise to great heights.

part of this whole situation was wataru. Wataru was one of the original members of the five eccentrics, and eichi greatly admired him and his skills. a secondary motivation, for eichi specifically, was to raise himself to the same level as wataru so they could communicate as equals. so like yeah he had a crush on the guy but that wasn't his main motivation.

wataru is a fascinating character. he has layers (like an onion) and he is always acting and rarely shows his "true self" and often talks about narratives and such in a very meta perspective (eichi talks this way a lot too, which is why theres so many monologues in enstars, but eichi views himself as just some guy while wataru views himself as the ultimate actor). wataru was also the last of the eccentrics to be defeated by fine. natsume, the youngest of the eccentrics, caught onto the fact that wataru was acting according to the "script" of the war (because he agreed with eichis ideas of reforming yumenosaki), so natsume wrote his own script where the eccentrics won. unfortunately, wataru discarded the idea, essentially For The Sake Of The Narrative. (natsume ended up burning the script, which is an interesting parallel to tsumugi burning the records of the deeds ex-fine did during the war, but thats another matter.) so wataru lost, as he was Supposed To, and eichi and ex-fine won the war for yumenosaki.

up until now eichi and wataru have been distant, only interacting occasionally (including one conversation where wataru has stuff to say about acting, or whatever. its all very meta of them). but after this, eichi is hospitalized, and rips out his IVs and such and refuses to let any of the nurses treat him. Wataru climbs in through the window of his hospital room to find him like this, and essentially asks him: What Now? they start talking about the results of the war, and the future, and they essentially write a script for how yumenosaki can change further for the better: this is Stage Two, trickstar's revolution. only when they plotted it they didnt know it would be trickstar, or the extent to which they would change things. because eichi, in the war, made himself and ex-fine powerful enough to defeat the eccentrics, which gave the students hope; but he did this through the power of being rich and also student council president, and other things like tsumugi's connections to basically everyone in the school. so he ended up having the school in basically a tyrannical rule, but that still wasn't the best environment to encourage idols to grow. so eichi and wataru wrote out a plan for an idol group to overthrow eichi himself, and bring about full change.

basically wataru and eichi combined have orchestrated the majority of the narrative of both the war era and the ! era stories. also they both know each other so intimately on a psychological level. youve probably heard people talk about wataei proposal and that is referring to the last story of the ! era game, where wataru and eichi met on the roof of yumenosaki one night and had a deep conversation-- i dont know all the details because i havent read it in full, but wataru offers eichi one of his theater masks and eichi recognizes the gesture as wataru offering him all of himself, to be wholly known and understood. eichi accepts the mask and yeah you get the point theyre so in love its ridiculous

[romanoffsdarling]

The Devil Wears Prada || Part One

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader // Peter Parker x Fem!Reader 

Chapter Summary: Today is the big day of your job interview— where you’ll truly figure out who you’ll be working with— that could potentially set you on the track for your dream job. Will everything go according to plan?

Word Count: 3,477

Chapter Warnings: Some self-esteem hits (fashion industry).

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy the first part of this series! I’m super excited as TDWP is one of my all-time favorite movies. And, yes, Peter will be acting as the Nate in this series but will be more like book Nate than movie Nate (but he will also be his own character too, of course). Some of the dialogue comes from the script but I promise, as things deepen in a different way between you and Wanda, things will steadily shift. 

Series Masterlist

Streaks of gold, with the smallest undertones of the purest white and the lightest flecks of silver, filter in from the half-opened curtains of the medium-sized windows within the place you have called home for the last two years. The sounds of horns blaring, faint shrieks of ambulances, and the distant chatter of voices in the streets below, signify the daily life of the inhabitants of New York City was just beginning.

While the day, for you, would signify that you’d finally be on the right path to achieve the goals you’ve set out for since you were little.

“Are you sure this job is right for you, Y/N/N?” The teasing question comes from the open doorway of the small bathroom situated in your Manhattan apartment. Your gaze shifts from the mirror-- as you were checking your chosen outfit once more-- to the amused one of your boyfriends. Light brown eyes sparkle with flecks of gold as his toothbrush hangs haphazardly out of the side of his mouth; his next words were slightly garbled because of it. “I mean you’ve never been that fashion conscious before.”

Your lips upturn into a smile. “I’m well aware of that, Peter.” You return your attention back to the mirror. “But we both know that working for a magazine like Runway will only heighten my chances at being able to work at credible newspapers.”

Peter holds up his finger as he disappears from sight and the sound of him spitting into the sink, followed by the brief gargling of mouth wash, resounds across the apartment before he appears once more. His hands wipe down the legs of his sweatpants as he makes his way towards you. “I know that I’m just worried that this job won’t be everything you think it will be.” Nimble fingers come up to gently tuck a strand of errant hair out of your face when he halts in front of you. “I just want you to be safe, Y/N/N.”

Leaning into his touch, you place a soft kiss on his fingertips. “I think I’ll be able to manage a couple of models, Pete.” You step closer to rest your head on his chest for a brief hug; comforted by the sound of his strong heartbeat. “And your number is speed dial one if I need you for anything.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and gives a light squeeze in response. “Call me to tell me how it goes. And Y/N?” You tilt your head up to look into his sparkling gaze. “Make sure to show them all what a kickass assistant you’ll make.”

An amused laugh leaves your lips at his enthusiastic support. “I’ll make sure to remember that.” You glance down at your watch and wince at the time it shows. “But, if I want to make the subway, I have to leave now. I’ll make sure to fill you in, in person when we go out for drinks tonight.”

You’re already out the door as Peter yells out his response; the good humor in his voice never leaving. “I’ll hold you to that, Y/L/N.”

Runway Magazine wasn’t one you were truly familiar with. Though, to be fair, you weren’t familiar with that many magazines to begin with; it would be a better fit than Auto Universe at least.  You did, however, know how much money it seemed to be worth; a fact that’s hammered home as you pause outside of the Elias-Stark building. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the massive building that towers into the New York City skyline. 

It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be, you observe with a small frown. Maybe I am out of my league with this one, but I wasn’t raised to be a quitter and I certainly won’t let a few insecurities ruin my chances for my dream career. 

Stepping into the building was like stepping into a whole other world. Various people flitting from corner to corner, racks of clothes being transported to undisclosed locations, and the amount of designer clothes mixed with the beauty of the people wearing them fills you with a sense of unease. You tug at the thick material of your sweater-- a deep blue one that Peter had gifted you a few months before-- as you stop by the security desk to get a visitor pass. 

“Y/N?” An accented voice calls from your right as the sound of heeled footsteps approach you. Offering a brief smile in thanks to the security guard that had just given you your pass, you turn your gaze to the approaching redhead. Was everyone in this place ridiculously attractive? 

Your inner thoughts fortunately don’t reflect on your face as the woman stops in front of you; an almost bored expression on her face as she looks you up and down. “HR does seem to have a sense of humor.” The redhead-- that you assume to be Natasha; from the phone call you had gotten detailing your appointment with her-- sniffs as she gestures for you to follow. “Okay, I was Wanda’s second assistant but her first recently got promoted. So, now I’m her first.”

You both pause as Natasha presses the up button for the elevator. Noting how stressed the redhead seemed to be you attempt to alleviate the heavy tension that was beginning to form. “So, you’re pretty much replacing yourself?”

The other woman side eyes you as she steps onto the lift-- forcing you to scramble in after her-- and only responds after she pushes the button for Floor 17. “I’m trying to do so, yes.”

A confused frown furrows your brow at that. She was trying to? What the hell does that mean? Am I only one that has applied for this job?

Seemingly knowing where you mind went to, Natasha explains in an airy, almost disinterested, voice. “Wanda sacked the last two girls after a few weeks.” Before you’re given the chance to respond, Natasha steps off the elevator as it arrives on the designated floor. Not even waiting to see if you were following, which you were, as she continues to explain. “You need to have a certain backbone to be able to thrive at Runway. I need--” She exhales sharply through her nose. “We need to find someone that can survive here. Do you understand?”

You nod sharply, narrowly avoid getting nailed by a frantic looking man, as you rush to keep up with Natasha. “Yes,” you agree, but a question pops into your mind that you needed to voice. “Who’s Wanda?”

Natasha halts, her head whipping around to stare at you with a widened gaze. “You didn’t just ask me that.” She exhales through her nose sharply once more before continuing her earlier trek through the bustling halls; once again forcing you to keep up. How the hell was she moving so fast in heels that big? “Wanda is the Editor-in-Chief of Runway, and a living legend within the fashion community. Work a year for her and you’ll be able to find a job at any magazine you could hope for.”

Exactly what I was hoping for. 

Opening a sleek glass door, Natasha leads you into a room with two desks facing one another-- on the outskirts of two other glass doors that lead into a much bigger office-- that you can guess is where the assistants reside throughout the day. Turning around, Natasha appraises you with sharp green eyes. “Millions of girls would kill for this job.”

You smile. “That sounds great, I’d love to be considered.”

The redhead’s brow furrows at that. “Y/N--” She pinches the bridge of her nose before continuing in a clearly strained voice. “Runway is a fashion magazine. An interest in fashion, beyond the base level, is crucial.”

Amusement flairs through you-- at least if you get this job, you’ll have one thing to brighten your day; see how worked up you could get Natasha-- as your smile remains. Although you adopt a faux innocent tone as you tilt your head. “What makes you think that I don’t have an interest in fashion?”

It was a question that you knew would raise Natasha’s hackles, which it does, but the retort dies on crimson-painted lips as she glances down at the beeping phone in her hand. Green eyes widen with horror as a gasp escapes her. “Oh, dear God. No, no, no, no.”

Confusion wells within you once more. Was this going to be a common occurrence? You not knowing what the hell was going on? “What’s wrong?”

Natahsa ignores you as she rushes to the desk on the left; her well-manicured nails quickly typing out a number on the desk-phone as she brings it to her ear. When it connects, she simply hisses out one statement before slamming it back down onto the receiver: “She’s on her way. Tell everyone.”

There seemed to be a moment of calm serenity before the office behind you burst into a frantic panic you’ve never seen before. People rushing back to their desk, women slipping out of sandals into heels, food getting thrown away, and various other things that flicker passed your gaze too quickly for you to notice. 

The next thing you know a sharply dressed man-- in a midnight blue suit-- walks into the room. “She was supposed to be coming in at nine. What the hell happened?” 

The clearly frazzled First Assistant runs a hand through her hair. “Her driver just messaged me. Apparently, her usual facialist ruptured a disk.” Standing, Natasha throws her hands into the air. “God! These people.”

What the absolute hell was happening? 

Shifting your weight, you finally garner the attention of the man who’s blue eyes shroud with confusion of his own. “Natasha, who is this?” 

The woman barely glances up from the documents on her desk as she waves her hand. “I don’t even want to talk about it.”

Seemingly not willing, or not having the time, to argue with Natasha, the man gives you one last glance before he pops his head into the hallway. “Man, your battle stations everyone!”

Even more chaos erupts at his words, but your gaze maintains its locked position on Natasha as she rushes into a side-door of the bullpen, reappearing a moment later with a tall glass and bottle of Pellegrino. Both of which she side-arms as she quickly takes the various magazines and newspapers into her free hand as she rushes into the bigger office. It seems that running was the normal walk within Runway. 

“You’re still here,” Natasha mutters, almost to herself, as she reappears to stand beside her desk. Her attention shifting for only a moment as the paper she was waiting for was finally done printing, which she instantly attached to her clipboard. “Go.”

Pushing off the chair you had been seated in-- was this really how this job interview was going to end-- an almost panicked look flashes across Natasha’s face before she waves you back down. “No, I don’t want you to pass her. We’ll just have to pray that she doesn’t notice you.”

Settling back down, you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. This was exactly like self-esteem camp. How quaint. 

So lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice that a quiet hush had fallen over the offices outside. A strained, yet professional, smile appearing on Natasha’s face as she disappeared from the room to meet the woman that had caused the commotion to begin with. You’re only keyed into her presence whenever her soft voice filters past your ears. 

“--- How hard is it to find a decent looking paramedic? Also, I need to see what Steve has called in for Gwenyth’s second cover try.”

Looking up, you’re met by the sight of gorgeous auburn-haired woman-- clothed in a form fitting white blouse, black pencil skirt, and black heels with red bottoms-- with an air of controlled disinterest as she tossed a black coat and purse onto Natasha’s desk. Said woman having followed dutifully behind her, jotting down notes, as the woman-- who you presume was Wanda-- spoke. 

As she enters her office, she calls softly over her shoulder. “Who is that?”

Natasha winces at the question-- seemingly hoping that Wanda would have been unobservant for once-- as she tries to come up with a proper response. “Nobody,” she replies, knowing that she would have to elaborate as that wouldn’t be a sufficient answer for Wanda. “Human resources sent her for the assistant job, and I was pre-interviewing her for you, but--”

Whatever Wanda does stops Natasha’s words in their tracks, but you don’t have to wonder for long as her smooth voice speaks up once more. “I’ll do it. The last two you sent me were complete disappointments.” There’s a brief moment of silence. “Send her in.”

A moment later Natasha appears and gestures for you to get up. “She’d like to see you.” Seemingly moving too slowly for the red heads liking she urges you forward. “Go on.”

Not needing to be told twice-- especially with the look Natasha was giving you-- the quick walk to Wanda’s office happens in record time as you stop in front of the modern desk. Trying not to look around too much at the chic design-- the space being perfectly clean, and the walls littered with pictures from designers you’d never be able to name-- but it was the woman seated behind the desk that truly drew you in. Her attention wasn’t on you, but you were certain she knew you were there, as she browses the magazine situated in front of her; deep auburn waves falling around her. 

“Who are you?” The question almost startles you; having gotten used to the silence, but you have a feeling that you shouldn’t keep the woman waiting for long. Especially not when her emerald eyes finally peer up from the papers and almost feel like they’re staring into your soul. 

You nervously place your resume on the desk in front of Wanda-- which she ignores-- as you introduce yourself. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” At the continued silence, you could feel your own nerves beginning to rise. “I recently graduated from--”

Wanda interrupts what would have undoubtedly been a rambling mess of a spiel. “What are you doing here?”

That seems easy enough. “I think that I could do a great job as your assistant and--”

Your words falter at the look Wanda bestows onto you; a part of yourself withering within you because of it. 

Not knowing what to do you begin talking. “I came to New York to become a journalist and I sent letters out to everyone. Elias-Stark gave me a call and Sherry detailed the opening in your department. Basically--” You sigh. “It was either this or Auto Universe.”

You want to die at the extent of your honesty, but Wanda seems to be taking it in. Maybe there was still a chance for you to get this job?

“So, you don’t read Runway?”

Strike One.

“No.”

Wanda raises a brow. “And, before today, you had never heard of me?”

Strike Two.

“No.”

“And you have no style or sense of fashion.”

Strike Three. You’re out.

“That depends on--”

A hard look flits over Wanda’s emerald gaze. “That wasn’t a question.”

Feeling desperate-- as this was the job that would open so many doors for you-- words tumble out of your mouth despite yourself. “I was Editor-in-Chief at the Daily Northwestern. I won a national competition for college journalists with a series on the janitor’s union--”

Wanda, seemingly having enough of you, holds up her hand. Her airy voice holding a whole new level of disinterest. “That’s all.”

The abruptness doesn’t stop your tirade, however. “That uncovered the exploitation of--”

The look Wanda pins you with could burn a hole through an iceberg, which really hammers in the point that you had just screwed up exponentially by trying to get this job. Feeling defeated, and a little downtrodden, you turn around and make your way to the door. Only to pause, well aware of the gaze still burning into you, as you turn back to meet it. 

“Okay, you’re right.” You gesture to your outfit as you keep your chin up. “I clearly don’t fit in here. I’m not glamorous or stick-level skinny and I don’t know much about fashion. But I’m smart, I learn fast, and I will work very hard.”

As your words peter out-- with some of your bravado fading-- Wanda simply stares impassively at you, not giving anything away, until the familiar male voice from earlier speaks up behind you. 

“We got the exclusive on the yellow Cavalli for Gwyneth, the one he showed with a huge, feathered headpiece, but she’ll look like she’s working the mainstage at the Golden Nugget, so instead--”

The man stops abruptly once he notices you, but you don’t pay him any mind as you offer Wanda a slight smile. “Thank you for your time.”

With that you exit the office as quickly as you can-- still feeling the effects of Wanda’s gaze on your body-- as you breathe a soft sigh through your nose. The job interview may not have gone as you wanted it to, but at least you stepped out of your comfort zone. 

Fortunately, the elevator ride down was quick, and you were alone-- leaving you to mope in your thoughts-- as you try to figure out where exactly everything had turned so wrong. It was those thoughts that plagued you as you gave back your visitor pass, offering a cordial goodbye, and made your way to the rolling doors of Elias-Stark. 

It was only the familiar accented voice calling from behind you that made you stop in your tracks. Your head whipping around to meet Natasha’s perturbed expression. She didn’t speak but the gesture for you to follow her was all that she needed to do. 

It seems that you had been able to do something right after all. 

“I still can’t believe you got a job at a fashion magazine,” Bucky murmurs, amusement dancing through his blue gaze. “Though, Wanda Maximoff is known for being unpredictable.”

You shake your head-- a fond smile curling your lips-- as you swat Peter’s hand away from encroaching on your fry territory. 

“Okay.” You shoot a glare towards Peter as he swiftly steals a fry, before turning your gaze back to Bucky. “How do you know who she is, and I don’t?”

Bucky grins. “I’m just more attuned with that sort of stuff than you, Y/N.”

A soft chuckle from Bucky’s right causes you to shift your gaze to amused brown. “That would make sense,” MJ teases. “It would explain a lot actually.”

Ignoring her teasing, he continues. “Seriously, Wanda is a big deal. She’s the youngest Editor-in-Chief in Runway history and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.” He shrugs halfheartedly at you. “I’m sure millions of girls would kill for the job you have.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” You were told this mere hours ago. “But I’m not one of those girls.”

“Hey,” Peter smoothly interjects; popping, yet another, one of your fries into his mouth. “Everyone has to start from somewhere, right? I’m just a bus-boy pretty much, but I know that I’ll be able to get my chance if I just try hard enough. Plus, MJ does--” Peter waves his hand in the general direction of your shared friend before a frown furrows his brow. “What is it that you do at your gallery?”

“My job,” MJ replies cheekily. “But fry cook here is right, Y/N/N, everyone starts from somewhere.”

“Fortunately for me I already have my dream job.”

Three sets of eyes turn to look at Bucky. 

“You’re a corporate research analyst.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, but I get free bagels on Tuesday’s and some booze at times. It totally rocks.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Bucky cracks. 

“You’re right my job is totally boring,” he sighs, but his jovial grin doesn’t slip from his face as he maintains eye contact with you. “At least you won’t be bored working for the Devil within the fashion industry.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, slinking back into your seat. “Lucky me.”

As your friends and boyfriend, continue to chatter around you can’t shake the memory of those burning green eyes. The way the light had reflected off of those auburn waves and the sheer command she had over a room without needing to raise her voice. 

You don’t know why but the idea that Wanda Maximoff was the Devil didn’t sit well with you, but you didn’t truly know her yet. 

Only time would tell... 

You just hope you were prepared for what it would bring. 

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

Just Playing Priscilla

Character/Fandom: Austin Butler - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yes! - nonnies

Prompt: You're playing Priscilla and today is the day of the kiss scene filming. You and Austin have been feeling feelings for each other, but neither of you are confident enough to tell the other. When Austin plays coy during an interview, maybe things will change.

TW: none!

Rating: Pg || Word Count: 2200

A/N: this is so cuteee! that kiss scene tho 😭 🥵

🦋 Mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

"And...action!" Baz's voice bounces off the walls in the small bedroom set.

You gulp and nervously pull at the bottom hem of your dress as Austin rises to go switch out the record. You let your eyes trace down his figure in the handsome military uniform that he wears for the scene. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to breathe without shaking.

"The Colonel's promised me that when I get back, he's gonna set me up in Hollywood to be a serious actor," Austin says, fumbling around with the record player.

He glances back at you, just like he's supposed to in the script, and you feel your heart flutter when his blue eyes gaze into yours. His eyes drop back down and he smiles handsomely.

"That's really what I dream of," he reads the lines in a voice so heartfelt that you can't help but smile.

"EP, now EP," your costar, Jeremy, shouts his lines from the hallway. "Now you promised the captain that you'd get her home by seven."

Austin gets up again, just like the script says, and stalks over toward the door. Your eyes follow him, and you use the bed to push yourself up and stand. Austin slams the door and spins on his heel, and you bite your cheek again trying to ignore the heat that creeps into your face. You link your fingers in front of your stomach, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"You don't boss me around," Austin says the next line perfectly, and you smile sweetly at him again as he yanks the curtains on the window open to stare out.

You cross the room, feeling your heart thud with every step you take closer. He's standing with his back toward the window, right on his mark. There's just enough space for you to slide in next to him, and you tilt your head up to gaze into his eyes lovingly as you position yourself on top of the red X on the floor. You drop your eyes for a second as his hand travels to the wall next to you, stretching out by your head.

You know the script says you have to look him in the eyes, but you're afraid of what you might feel if you do. You gulp hard and bite the bullet, reattaching your eyes to his.

"You know, I think that if you dream it, you'll do it," you say quietly. You catch Austin's eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, and you wonder if he's still acting.

"You do?" he asks.

You're supposed to respond according to the script, but you just can't. You forget about the cameras for a moment, absorbed in his sea-blue eyes. And you just let a big smile spread across your features. You bite your tongue and nod enthusiastically, humming encouragingly. Now it's your turn to let your eyes peek at his lucious lips, practically begging you to kiss him. Luckily that's exactly what the script orders.

You stare up at Austin, your heart slamming against your chest. He just looks down at you with soft blue eyes and starts to slowly, painfully lean down. You stretch out your neck and tilt it, preparing for the kiss that you've been craving for weeks now. You gently brush your noses together, and your breath audibly shakes. Your eyes shutter closed, and you let your body feel all of the emotions and physical sensations of the moment. You both hesitate for what feels like forever.

You have built up quite a major crush on Austin the past few weeks on set. He's incredibly handsome and so sweet and genuine. You have already filmed some of the less happy scenes, the ones where you are sort of in the background while he's front and center. As soon as you'd read the script, you'd known you were in for a wild ride. You and Austin have spent a lot of time together, and you're great friends now, but...you both just feel the slightest bit awkward. Like there's something between you that you just can't get through. On your side, at least, you know that it's an intense physical attraction which is quickly turning into some form of love. On Austin's side, well...it sometimes seems like the same. But neither of you can be sure nor do you want to out yourself before you're positive the other feels the same.

After what feels like a lifetime, Austin finally presses his soft lips to yours. You kiss him back, feeling the butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults. You move your head back slightly, remembering that the kiss is just supposed to be a sweet, chaste one, but Austin leans forward, refusing to let your lips free. Your fingers instinctively fly up to his face, holding his lips against yours. When you separate, you glance back up at him and realize that neither of you are acting anymore.

"Cut! That was perfect, guys," Baz says with a smile. "Let's reset and do one more take, although I don't think we need it."

While you're resetting the scene, you and Austin sit back down on the ground together. You avoid his eyes.

"That was great improv," he finally says quietly as people rush around you to get the set put back together.

"What are you talking about?"

"Holding my face like that," he says. "It was a great touch. And...very sweet. I liked it."

You have only enough time to smile before Baz yells action once again. You feel both awkward and soothed at his compliment, maybe wondering if Austin could feel the same for you that you feel for him.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“So we’ll just run through a few questions, like maybe five or so, if that sounds alright?”

You nod along with Austin.

“Sounds perfect,” Austin responds with a smile.

You glance over at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s looking particularly handsome today in a plain white t-shirt, a dark green jacket, and a pair of blue jeans. You subtly bite your lip to keep from smiling at his appearance. You refocus your attention on the interviewer as they get the cameras set up.

“Good to go!” one of the cameramen shouts with a thumbs up.

“Wonderful, so first of all, congratulations on the film! It was absolutely amazing!” the interviewer begins.

“Thank you so much! We’re very, very proud of it!” you answer.

“You definitely should be! So, Austin…” the interviewer directs a question toward your costar, and you allow yourself to zone out for a moment.

“You know it was a lot of work, but having people like Y/N around is one of the reasons I was able to successfully portray Elvis,” Austin answers. “As an actor, you know, you feed off of the energy from the other actors. So it makes all the difference in the world to have someone opposite you who really understands the character and gives you that emotion that you need.”

“Absolutely and, Y/N, obviously playing Priscilla means that you have to be comfortable with conveying a wide range of emotions. How did you channel emotions for the different scenes?”

“Of course, Priscilla goes through a lot in the movie. Being able to chat with the real Priscilla was overwhelmingly helpful. I got to know her as a person, as a mother, and as Elvis’ wife. I got to pick up on some of her mannerisms, the way she moves and talks. It really helped me to imagine how she must have felt at different points during her life. And she is also a woman, so I just tried to relate with her on a human level as well. How would I feel, as a human being, if this was happening to me?”

“That's incredible. And obviously one of the major scenes and plot points of the film is the relationship between Priscilla and Elvis. If I can just say, that kiss scene was absolutely magical!”

As soon as the interviewer mentions the kiss scene, you feel your blood go cold and your muscles tighten. You gulp, trying to force a smile. And god do anything but think back to that moment. To that day when everything had changed for you. Your fingers in your lap begin to dig into your thigh through your jeans. You anxiously scratch at the fabric with a fingernail, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You can feel Austin’s eyes on you, but you stare straight ahead and avoid all eye contact with him. You suddenly feel his fingers grabbing onto yours, pushing your hand out of the way to rest his palm on top of your thigh. You clench your jaw, hoping the interviewer couldn’t see.

“Just so romantic, and it felt incredibly real. As actors, how do you get over the awkwardness to make the audience believe that you’re really in love?”

For some reason, the interviewer looks to you for an answer. You freeze up.

“Well, uh, you know as actors you just…” you glance at Austin for help. His eyes widen when he receives the message.

“You make the best of the situation. Although in this particular case, it was easier than usual,” he says, throwing a sweet smile in your direction. “I didn’t have to do much acting with someone as beautiful as Y/N sitting across from me.”

Your back straightens a little when he squeezes your thigh gently. You glare at him for a quick moment. He winks and bites his lip.

“Oh, I’m sure! Y/N what was it like to see Austin all made up as Elvis? Was he as swoon worthy as the real Elvis?”

“Yes, of course! Our makeup team is very talented, ” you say with nervous laughter.

You make eye contact with Austin and lose your train of thought. You only mean to glance at him, but you can't tear your eyes away. The way he’s looking at you throws you right back into the kiss scene. The tenderness in his bright blue eyes, the ways his plump pink lips are parted gently, looking so inviting. The softness in his demeanor as he leans toward you.

“It was magical,” you finish your sentence, feeling your own eyes soften as they stare into his beautiful blue ones. “Truly magical.”

The rest of the interview goes quickly, without anything of note. Well, besides Austin’s fingers constantly gripping and then releasing the skin of your thigh. Even though you try to pry his fingers off a few times, they somehow always make their way back to that same spot. You huff, eventually allowing them to remain there. And, of course, there are the little glances that you and Austin are shooting at each other every few seconds. As one of the crew members flashes a hand with two fingers raised, you breathe a sigh of relief thinking you've fooled the interviewer.

“I think we have time for one more question. And while I had one planned, I just have to ask a different one. Are you two…” the interviewer pauses, flipping her finger between you and Austin, “...together? Or is all this flirting I’m seeing just for the press?”

You feel the blood drain from your face and freeze. You're taken aback by the bluntness of the question. You’re sure you’re giving the editors a wonderful thumbnail image: you sitting there with wide eyes and a dead straight mouth. Austin just laughs, handling the whole situation with class and style as he always does.

“I think we’ll let you speculate on that for now,” he responds, squeezing your thigh again.

The interviewer cocks an eyebrow as the cameraman shouts to end the interview. They restack their papers and stand.

"I would figure out what your story is," they say, turning to leave. "Before another interviewer comes in who's not as subtle as I am."

You sigh as they leave, still sitting perfectly still, frozen with surprise. The crew members get busy around you, resetting the cameras and taking their five-minute breaks before another interviewer comes into the small room. You avoid everything to do with Austin, refusing to look at him or touch him. Refusing to give him the time of day.

"So, what is it?" Austin says in a low voice.

"What are you talking about, Austin?" you ask, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Our story?" he presses. "What is it?"

You say nothing, just look at him. You gulp as he stares over at you. Your eyes flick down to those lips and you think again about the kiss scene and all of the feelings that had been coursing through your body then return with a vengeance. You lean over the chair, grabbing his face and pressing your lips onto his. You squeeze your eyes shut and kiss him hard until his fingers find your neck, pulling you against him. You can just barely feel the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile as he kisses you. When you pull back, you gaze into his eyes, and he chuckles softly before speaking.

"Well, I guess that answers my question."

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know! :)

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[autisticgirliesbracket]

What makes Jane Doe from Ride the Cyclone the autistic girlie ever of all time? Here's what the people have to say:

Jane Doe-related asks/reblogs: x This post will be updated after each round!

Image ID in alt text and under the readmore.

[Image ID. White slide with a picture of Jane Doe, portrayed by Emily Rohm, in the top left corner. On the right are several text boxes which read,

"OKAY SO. In the musical, she's very monotone most of the time, she doesn't get social cues, she's very "robotic" according to the script itself (mood). She moves a bit differently than the other teens in the musical (mood) and is VERY obsessed with eye contact (less of a mood but I know some folks with the 'tism do that). She shares information a Lot ("When a lioness has children...", "FORNICATION UNDER CONSENT OF THE KIIIING—"), gets confused when people don't follow the Rules she Learned that Society Set Up ("How do we know it's my birthday...?"). And she has a comfort item—her doll! I kin to her So Much."

"While it may not have been the intention of the creators, a lot of things click with me. She has a very direct way of talking, and is very bad at recognising social cues. She often sways or else mimics the actions of those around her. As well, she has a comfort object, a doll missing a head, that she carries around. On a more upsetting note, she sometimes makes the other characters uncomfortable, but by the end of the musical they make strides to connects with her."

"Does she fall into the "fits decently harmful stereotypes" category? Probably. Do I relate to her on a deeply personal level anyways? Yes. She infodumps often (lions!) and also has trouble showing emotion and also aaaa"

"She has poor social skills and social cues. She often acts like the "weird girl" trope that usually just means autism if yk what i mean. also vibes"

"one. her eyes, two. strange as hell/pos and three. her doll could be her comfort item"

"She struggles with social cues and comes across as odd at best and normally terrifying. Also she feels (literally in this case) fragmented with the fact that she isn’t whole by average standards and is upset with her identity being taken from her. Also I relate to her" End ID.]

[hologramcowboy]

https://startefacts.com/news/ready-set-aww-danneel-ackles-reveals-how-she-knew-jensen-was-the-one_a136

This whole article is actually gross. Romanticizing her forcing an unscripted kiss to shoot her shot it gross.

Being the confident woman that she is, she decided to kiss Jensen in one of the scenes, even though "that was not scripted."

The scene in question is the one at the end of the movie where Tish (Danneel's character) walks up to Priestly (played by Jensen) and gives him a kiss.

According to the actress, Jensen knew that the kiss was not in the script. No wonder Priestly looks so (pleasantly) surprised in that scene! Who wouldn't be?

Danneel said that the reason for her girlbossing was that she just understood that she "had to do something else, or it would be too late." This is a clear example of feminism working for you, folks!

Kissing someone when they aren’t expecting it and you aren’t sure if they want it while you’re on camera doing your job is not “girlbossing” and it defiantly is NOT feminism. It’s the exact thing men do to women all the time and people point out how wrong it is. There is nothing cute about this story. What makes it worse it that it’s not even completely factual. I mean, maybe that was their first kiss, I don’t know, but the fact that this gross story is what they have chosen as their lie? Tells you all you need to know about them as individuals and a couple.

I can debunk her claim easily and so can anyone in touch with the industry:

As an Actor/Actress there is no universe in which it is okay to make any type of intimate move towards your co-star prior to setting boundaries during rehearsal and asking for their clear definite permission and limits. I repeat, invading personal space, suddenly touching, kissing etc your scene partner by surprise is strictly forbidden and the #metoo movement has plenty of stories that prove my point. Again, no professional actor will EVER invade their scene partner's space or boundaries. Unless they are a creep or lack balance. Even if your co star likes you or is your friend, spouse, whatever, when it comes to acting boundaries are everything and everything is talked about prior during rehearsal and most of the time in the presence of an intimacy coach. So, not sure why these people are publicizing this story, all it shows is that Jensen got harassed on set. That poor man gets objectified and preyed upon so often he ended up thinking that's what love is. This is endlessly sad.

Secondly, this script was written by a woman for a woman centered audience, in which universe do you all think the kiss was not written? Please find a copy of the script.

Thirdly, if the kiss was unplanned why did the camera perfectly frame and capture it? 🤣 Were the crew men psychic? 🤦🏼‍♀️ I mean, I get wanting to level up the Ackles image because they have zero credibility, affability and chemistry but Danneel, if you are going to lie about something to make yourself look good once again at Jensen's expense, at least do your research. Any coach, director, casting director, etc. etc. will tell you straight off that touching, insinuating, kissing, etc all gestures, choices that invade personal space and boundaries are a huge no no without consent. I am so appalled that people are publicizing this. Do you all even realize the negative message you are sending to Actors everywhere? They already have very little to feel safe about, please don't add to it and instead of buying into whatever crap Danneel tries to sell, do your research. Research is King.

Let me reinforce this once more: If you overstep boundaries of your fellow actors (I don't f* care if they are your spouse, brother, cousin, etc), you should get professional help before ever stepping unto a stage/set/audition room floor again. You are what is deeply wrong with this industry. Finally, while Jensen is endlessly beautiful, he does not deserve to be treated like a fish you are trying to catch, Danneel, you are just like any other obsessed fan girl, you view him as an object so much so you kissed him forcefully. ( Yet again you prove you have no love in you). Also, you were set to marry Riley so if YOU chose to forcefully kiss Jensen you chose to willfully betray the man that was the supposed love of your life at the time without a second thought, without scruples. IF the kiss thing is true, because, as stated above, I highly, highly doubt it was not scripted and have very valid reasons to think so.

Moral of the story is: next time you feel like lying, remember there are professional people who have experience in your field, that will see you for the pitiful impostor you are.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Transshipment Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 转运之约, that is yet to be released in the global server! ♡

[Translation Under The Cut]

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

[Tidbits from Anika]: There are a couple of Victor dates that you NEED to read / at least have the idea of before proceeding with this date (* marked are must-reads)––

Job Date (2018), Taste of Life MQ, Rainy-day Date*** (2020) — already released in EN.

Glass Boat Date* (2022).

There are several dialogues in this date that are the exact same (callbacks/reenactments) as the mentioned dates. I’ll translate them according to the CN script btw~ (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

🎥🔗 Video link is in the comments! If you can, PLEASE follow along with it. And if you can’t, PLEASE listen to it at least once, cause the voice acting for this date is BEYOND—— 🥺🌊

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

✧ [Chapter 1] ✧

The night breeze occasionally lifts corners of the curtain. The moon is clear, with sparse stars adorning the endless night sky.

In contrast, Victor, sitting opposite me, is frowning tightly, the luminous white light of the screen reflecting on his lenses. His entire being looks like he is shrouded in dark clouds.

MC: Victor, are you still busy?

Victor: Mm.

He responds with a simple grunt, never taking his eyes off of the computer even for a moment.

Victor seems to have been a little out of luck lately. It’s as though God is deliberately opposing him, throwing all the adversities at him in one fell swoop.

From small things like flight cancellation for business trips to big things like delays in collaboration projects––

There was also a big project that LFG had been preparing for a long time. But due to the sudden revision of the import tax policy, a large sum of funds evaporated in an instant.

While Victor has been continuously running around day and night because of this, I detect a trace of restlessness in his seemingly calm and unflappable exterior.

For instance, he’d be looking for his phone for half a day when it’s still in his pocket, or he’d realize that he’s still left the car keys in the car after coming home.

And from what Goldman told me, he’s often so busy these days that he doesn’t even remember to eat lunch.

There are all kinds of tiny traces that make it clear that this person, the CEO of LFG, who seems as motionless as a mountain under any circumstances, is distressed like any ordinary person.

Seeing how he still has no intention of resting now, I sigh silently in my heart.

MC: CEO Victor, even the pandas are going to recognize you as one of their own kind.

–

[Tidbits]: Victor says the same line to MC in the rainy-day date~ :>

–

Victor: Mm.

MC: ...you aren’t asleep already with your eyes open while looking at the screen, are you?

Victor: Got it.

MC: ...

Hearing his clearly absent-minded answer, I narrow my eyes.

MC: How about–– you give LFG to me? And then you can be my personal chef without any worries!

The hand that has been tapping on the keyboard pauses as he finally shifts his gaze from the screen to my face.

Victor: At that point, a certain dummy won’t have time to enjoy big feasts.

Seeing that he isn’t “taking the bait,” I pout and put on a straight face.

MC: You’ve slept less than five hours for four days in a row.

MC: And you had promised me yesterday that you would get some proper rest today.

Victor: Let’s talk about it in half an hour.

You said the same thing half an hour ago.

I feel angry for a moment, and just as I’m thinking about how to carry out the coercive measures, the alarm set on my phone suddenly vibrates.

I hastily refresh the ticket purchasing website, staring intently at the time in the bottom right-hand corner of my computer screen.

When the numbers jump to 22:00, I decisively click on the ticket purchasing button on the webpage.

“Your ticket purchase was successful.”

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [Chapter 2] ✧

This weekend, Pianist Maxie will be performing a concert in Loveland City.

Victor’s cabinet contains many of his albums. I want to take this opportunity to take him there for a change of mood.

–

[Tidbits]: According to MC (explicitly stated in the dating diary), Victor really likes this pianist! Though, of course, his favorite pianist is... and he says it himself later too ahah~ 🥺💘

–

At this moment, a shadow suddenly casts a shade on the screen, and I subconsciously switch the ticket purchasing interface to the desktop screen with one click.

Victor: Being sneaky, what are you up to?

MC: ...how do you walk without making any sound?

Victor: You have that guilty look on your face.

Holding the tea-glass in one hand, Victor hands me the material marked with colorful labels, added with his annotations between the words and lines.

Victor: The proposal is well adjusted. You can carry it forward.

MC: Huh? Weren’t you looking at the proposal for that import project you’re going to negotiate tomorrow?

Victor: That one’s relatively complicated. So halfway through, I took a look at a certain someone’s self-proclaimed “unique ingenious” proposal for a change of pace.

I try my best to hold down the corners of my lips that are getting restless to turn up to their ends, tilt my head and ask:

MC: My proposal is worthy of that description, isn’t it?

Victor: This time, it has indeed reached the degree of a certain someone’s boasting.

Victor: At least, it’s the most satisfying among the documents I’ve read in the last few days.

The applauding gaze lands on my face through the lenses, but the faint bluish-green tinge under his eyes makes my happy mood fade a few notches.

MC: Since I’ve made CEO Victor happy, can I ask for a reward?

Victor: If you want pudding, I’ll owe you that for now and will make it for you another time.

I close my laptop shut and wrap my arms around his waist.

MC: Although the pudding is highly attractive, this time I want a full-length cuddle pillow that can warm my hands to accompany me in getting rest together.

Victor: I’m just your cuddle pillow?

Despite saying these words, Victor takes off his spectacles, scoops me up, and heads toward the bedroom.

–

The light of dawn sprinkles over Mother Earth in the early morning, enveloping it in a layer of faint glow.

I quietly tuck the panda ball-point pen I’ve prepared into Victor’s bag, which is a lucky charm for the Capricorns this month, and step out of the door together with him early in the morning.

In the grass on the neighborhood roadside, there are a few white and green flowers that have just bloomed in the wind.

MC: Victor, look! They are dendrobium flowers!

–

[Tidbits]: Dendrobiums are a type of orchid, which represent love, refinement, beauty, charm, fertility, and thoughtfulness! 🥺

–

Pleasantly surprised, I squat down and pluck one flower cautiously and solemnly, then pin it to his breast pocket.

MC: Dendrobium is an auspicious flower, which means good things are coming our way very soon!

Victor glances down at the fresh and delicate flower on his chest. A smile, which hasn’t been seen that often these days, blossoms at the corners of his lips.

Victor: If it is to be my lucky flower, the “work pressure” on it must be quite a lot.

MC: The fortune transshipment buff I’ve prepared for you is not just this one~

–

We’ve walked to the parking lot while we are talking. Under Victor’s slightly surprised expression, I open the door of the driver’s seat.

MC: Hello, CEO Victor. I’ll be your chauffeur this morning and will be responsible for getting you to the LFG building safely and on time.

MC: Please fasten your seat belt, and we are ready to set off.

–

[T/N]: Victor’s fireplace corner!! It’s one of my fav BGs~ ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ಡ

The weather forecast said that the weather will be good all day today, but the misty rain hasn’t ceased since the afternoon.

It’s almost eleven o’clock by the time I type the last word of my document.

I received a text message from Victor in the afternoon, saying that he has a dinner party to attend in the evening and that Goldman will bring him home.

Just as I’m about to call him, my phone screen lights up, as if our two hearts beat as one.

Victor: [he sounds SO 🥺]  Are you home yet?

MC: Mm, I’m done with dinner. Are you done with the dinner party yet?

Victor: I’m already on my way back, it will take about twenty minutes or so.

MC: Then why are you calling me now? Did something happen?

Victor: [laughs quietly, softest of the softest voices to exist]  It’s nothing, just wanted to hear a dummy’s voice.

I don’t know if he’s had a drink or not, but Victor speaks a little slower than usual, which makes me unable to resist softening my breathing.

MC: Victor, are you acting coquettishly?

Victor: ...are you in a sleepy daze?

MC: I’ve heard that people who act like spoiled kids have good luck. You need to learn more from me.

Victor: [sulking]  Learn what from the dummy? [mimicking MC]  “Help me~ahh~Victor~”?

MC: Humph, have you noticed that you’ve recently taken a liking to talk like me?

Victor: [sulking intensifies] It’s just your misperception. I don’t want to become a dummy.

Hearing the laughter hidden in his voice, I somehow manage to settle down my heart.

MC: So, how was the dummy’s Mr. CEO’s day?

Victor: After the meeting in the morning, I was preparing to go out to attend to some other matters. It started raining when I was halfway there, and I hadn’t brought an umbrella.

MC: ...looks like my fortune transshipment didn’t come in handy.

His soft laugh on the other end of the line knocks on my eardrum along the electric waves.

Victor: Is it that fancy pen?

Victor: If the purpose of the transshipment was to put me in a better mood, then it has accomplished its task.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [Chapter 3] ✧

Amidst the busy work schedule and a little bit of anticipation on my part, Saturday arrives.

Today, Victor is going to negotiate cooperation with a wholly foreign-owned enterprise (WFOE). If this partnership is successful, it will reduce the loss of the import project to a minimum.

I bribed Goldman in advance and learned the intel on the location and end time of the negotiation meeting.

The two tickets to the concert are still waiting quietly in my bag, and I plan to give him a surprise when his meeting concludes smoothly.

–

When I arrive near the hotel where the meeting is taking place, there is still less than half an hour left before it ends. I scan the surroundings and push open the door to a milk tea shop.

Shop Assistant: Welcome.

MC: Hello, I’d like to ask you to do me a small favor.

I pull up Victor’s photo from my phone and show it to the shop assistant.

MC: This is my boyfriend. When he comes to buy milk tea later, can you offer him a “buy one get one free”? I’ll pay you the bill up-front.

MC: Today is our anniversary, and I want to give him a surprise.

The shop assistant readily agrees to my request. After paying for the milk tea, I sit down in a corner and text Victor––

MC’s text: “I’ll come to find you later for lunch at the hotel you’re having the meeting. Buy a drink for me from the milk tea shop downstairs, okay ^ 3 ^”

I then fetch out my hat and sunglasses and put them on, waiting for his arrival with some anxiety and anticipation.

Finally, with the sound of the ringing of a doorbell, a familiar figure appears in my peripheral vision. I hurriedly open the small make-up mirror, in which I see Victor walking up to the counter.

Victor: I’d like a strawberry bubble milk tea, half sugar, and less ice.

Shop Assistant: Sir, you are the 88th lucky customer of our shop today. We’ll give you another cup of Milk Oolong Green.

Victor: Thank you.

–

[Tidbits]: The number “88” symbolizes fortune and good luck in Chinese culture! Also, 88 is the morse code for “love and kisses”! 🥺

–

I observe Victor’s reaction carefully, not expecting the man to give a simple nod.

MC: How come there’s no reaction...

I bring the mirror a little closer to myself, wanting to observe his facial expression more meticulously. But what greets my eyes is the sight of him lowering his head, followed by an abrupt vibration of my phone.

With a “guilty conscience,” I switch my phone to silent mode. When I look in the mirror again, Victor has already got two cups of milk tea.

Before leaving, he pauses in his footsteps as his gaze sweeps over indistinctly.

I hastily close the small mirror, pretending that I’m simply an ordinary customer.

Only after confirming that Victor has already left do I take out my phone.

Victor’s Text: “I’ve bought the milk tea. Let me know when you arrive.”

–

After thanking the shop assistant again, I briefly change my hairstyle and give myself an appearance of having just arrived, and then knock on the door of Victor’s hotel room.

The sound of steady footsteps gradually approaches. The instant the door of the room opens, I lunge myself into Victor’s arms.

MC: [in English]  Surprise!

The flash of surprise in his eyes quickly melts into a faint smile as Victor draws a step back while holding me in his arms, and closes the door behind me.

MC: How did the meeting in the morning go?

Victor: [laughs softly, a little helplessly]  It was okay.

I notice that the pressure pressing down on him has indeed weakened to some extent compared to the previous two days. Even the corners of his lips, which have been rigid so far, now have a slight upward curve to them.

MC: Hehe, that’s great.

As I’m grinning, the corners of my eyes “just happen” to land on the two cups of milk tea on the table.

MC: Wow, you’ve already bought it!

Victor: A certain someone asked me to buy the milk tea at a pretty fortunate time. I happened to be just in time for a “buy one, get one free.”

Victor pushes one of the cups over to me and places another slice of matcha cake in my hand.

MC: It seems that the little trans-shipments I gave you are quite efficacious after all.

He doesn’t say anything, but that meaningful look in his eyes makes me stuff two bites of the cake into my mouth a little sheepishly.

Not long after, the room service brings in a table full of delicacies in a variety of aromas, colors, and flavors.

The two of us soon wipe them out. Victor also seems to be healed by the fine delicacies, displaying a few rare moments of relaxation.

MC: By the way, do you have any other arrangements for today?

Victor: [laughs knowingly, indulgently]  Theoretically, there should be none.

MC: Then, in the afternoon we––

Before I can mention anything about the concert, Victor’s phone rings. He gestures for me to pause, and then answers the phone.

I don’t know what the other party has said across the line, but the tenderness originally embedded in his expression dissipates a little.

Victor (on the call): …got it. Tell them I’ll be there on time.

Hanging up the phone, Victor stands up and straightens his cuffs and collar.

MC: What’s wrong?

Victor: Goldman said that there are still some things the partner wants to discuss regarding the project. We still have to have another meeting with them in a bit.

MC: Will it take long?

Victor: Can’t say for sure how long it will take.

I nod in silence, swallowing down the matter of the concert for the time being. I then take the tie that is hitched up on the side and nimbly tie a Windsor knot for him.

MC: [to the tie]  Nice. [to her Mr.]  You look very imposing. Bring along this transshipment I’ve prepared for you, and everything will go perfectly.

Victor blinks, suppressing a glint in the depths of his eyes, and lowers his head––

Victor: As compared to a transshipment, [a long pause, then voice drops to a raspy whisper]  immersing in the dummy’s cheerfulness is more effective.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [Chapter 4] ✧

Bored, I spend my spare time wandering around the shopping mall near the hotel in every possible way. The opening time of the concert has long passed, but there’s still not the least bit of news from Victor.

MC: I wonder if the negotiation went well or not…

Salesperson: Hello, we have the latest hot compress animal facial masks available that can eliminate your fatigue. If you’re interested, please take a look.

Looking at the various animal masks in the display window, I recollect Victor’s somewhat gloomy and dispirited face over the past few days and turn to step into the store.

–

When I return to the hotel, I’m met head-on with Victor who seems to have just finished his meeting. The moment he sees me, an intermittent look of astonishment flow through his eyes in a stream.

Victor: [flabbergasted]  Why are you still here?

MC: To pick you up “from work,” of course.

I walk up to him, acutely aware that his emotions are off.

Although his expression isn’t much different from a few hours ago, I still catch a trace of loss in the depths of his eyes.

Remaining calm and collected, I take his hand, swaying it with a smile on my face.

MC: CEO Victor, you’ve worked hard in the meeting. So, should we head back home, or would you like to go for a hearty meal?

He lowers his gaze to me; his opaque eyes are even darker and deeper than the midnight sky. After a long time, he takes hold of my hand.

Victor: [sighs REALLY HEAVILY]  Let’s go home.

–

After dinner, Victor goes off to take a shower. Taking advantage of this interval, I turn it over in my mind for a moment and study the animal facial mask I’ve just bought.

The sound of footsteps approaches from behind as the water running in the bathroom gradually fades to a halt. Victor wipes his hair and sits down beside me.

Victor: What did you buy again?

MC: A new style of animal facial mask. It’s super cute.

His gaze sweeps over the smiling panda in my hand, and he raises his eyebrows slightly.

Victor: It’s actually perfect for a certain dummy.

MC: It’s not perfect just for me…

I give Victor a half-push to make him lean back on the sofa, and his eyebrows knit together into a light frown, seemingly having realized that the mask in my hand is for him.

MC: Would this gentleman like to try my exclusive hot compress relaxation service?

Victor: …the range of your business is really expanding wider and wider.

I remove the small hairpin from my head, lift the fringes in front of his forehead, and clip them in place.

MC: Thank you, I’m very flattered. I’ve opened this business only for CEO Victor.

Victor takes one look at the “panda face” in my hand, and his brows begin to show the signs of weaving horizontally again.

Seeing this, I hurriedly press on his eyebrows.

MC: Don’t frown! Just relax, and let me put a happy panda face on you~

Victor’s slightly speechless gaze glides over the panda mask in my hand and lands back on the mirror next to me.

Victor: I don’t see any difference from the usual times.

MC: There is a huge difference! When you’re unhappy, the space here between your eyebrows will be pressed down two millimeters lower than usual.

I reach out and gently press the tip of his brows, lifting them upwards.

He stares at me, and the corners of his lips seem to curl up in a soft arc.

Victor: Do you use this trick to “predict” the outcome and quality of your proposals?

MC: This is something I’ve accumulated over a long period of time, built up from the experience of diligently observing you daily.

The panda mask covers his slightly lowered brow ridges, sharp contours, and angular jawline, which also gives a playful softness to his steadfast composure.

MC: Victor, you look incredibly cute. Can I take a picture?

Victor: [AAAHHHH this HAS TO be THE MOST ADORABLE VOICE EVER, he really sounds like a 3-year-old kid asjdksbfjks]  I don’t see you caring to ask for my opinion one bit.

His pronunciation becomes slurred and adorable because of the mask. Seeing me hold up the phone to him wearing a giant panda face, he only releases a snort and doesn’t move.

After snapping a few shots from different angles, I feel perfectly content and proceed to massage him gently.

The afterglow of the setting sun draws a layer of golden outline through the French windows, and for a while, the only sound that can be heard in the air is the breathing of the two of us.

Victor: [very quietly]  Don’t you have anything to ask me?

My hand pressing against his temples pauses for a bit, and I mull over how to ask him.

MC: The project you negotiated today… was it successful?

Victor: No.

Victor: There were indeed a few details in the middle that hadn’t been discussed properly.

He looks up at me, his eyes tinged with a little helplessness.

Victor: Are you sure you want to ask about this? And not about the concert this afternoon?

MC: How did you know about that?

Looking at the surprised expression on my face, he purses the corners of his lips slightly as if swallowing a quiet sigh in silence.

Victor: A certain someone had sandwiched the tickets inside her notebook, and it was, in a very generous manner, spread out on the table when she was working overtime the night before yesterday.

MC: …anyway, the surprise couldn’t be materialized. So just pretend that you don’t know.

Victor: I’m not a dummy who can pretend to not know or play dumb.

There are some rare apologies weaved in his eyes. I stretch out my hand and tangle his locks dyed with splinters of golden.

MC: It was just a concert. It’s not like we can’t go in the future. Your matters are undoubtedly more important.

MC: So, what I actually want to ask you more is something else.

MC: Victor, are you… really okay?

Victor: In business, victory and defeat are general occurrences like military affairs.

He says it calmly as if stating a fact that couldn’t be more ordinary.

MC: Of course, I know that. But as you’ve said before, you are no different from me. There are many things that you cannot do or cannot force yourself to make happen.

MC: The pillar of LFG sometimes needs to take a breather too, and return to the “ordinary person” Victor.

MC: I just hope that when you are in front of me, you can be not strong, and you can do not well. You don’t need to suppress your emotions.

–

[Tidbits]: The last few lines MC says are the exact same lines Victor told her in the “rainy-day date,” and repeated in the “glass boat date.” 🥺

–

LFG is akin to a gigantic mountain, with an incomparable weight of responsibilities and hopes resting on his shoulders.

This person who’s been entrusted with all of this, I hope I can be a small harbor for him where he can rest at ease amidst the wind and rain.

Victor’s eyes are closed, and he doesn’t say anything more. Just when I think he’s already fallen asleep, a serene, slightly raspy voice resounds.

Victor: [softest of the voices to exist]  Don’t I already rely on you? Dummy.

–

[Tidbits]: Another reference to the “rainy-day date,” where Victor tells her she can rely on him and will forever have the right to be vulnerable in front of him~ 🌊

–

He looks at me, the curves at the corners of his eyes softening.

Victor: [whispers in THE most beautiful, gentlest, bewitching manner to ever exist]  Don’t worry. I’m not as dispirited as you might think I am right now.

Victor: [whispering continues]  The main credit for this goes to a certain someone who has been making use of every second and every inch to bring me “little fortunes” these past few days.

Victor: [continuation]  For example, the transshipment stuffed in my bag, and there’s also the sneaky buy-one-get-one-free “milk tea.” They have all worked well.

MC: Huh? What do you mean…

Victor: Did you think just because you wore a hat and a different jacket at the milk tea shop, I wouldn’t be able to recognize you?

I pout. Although my tricks have been seen through, there is an inexplicable feeling of warmth within me, knowing that all my actions are taken to heart by him.

The timer set to the side goes off. I peel off the facial mask and tenderly pat a towel soaked in hot water on every corner of his face.

His skin is slightly flushed from the hot compress, making every tinge of his emotions traceable.

MC: There’s nothing I can do to help you resolve the work plights, so I can only use these tricks to make you a little bit happy…

MC: No matter how small the “luck” is, when it appears, it always makes people think that things are in fact not so bad after all. Am I right?

He presses his hand against my neck, making me bend down slowly in response to his force.

Victor: Indeed.

Victor: [that whisper returns]  However, the more important thing is that person who brings this “luck.”

His scorching breaths brush across my cheek, delicately tracing their path from the base of my ear to my cheek in fragments and finally landing on my lips.

The sound of his whispering melts between my lips and teeth, dyeing the deep ending note with an inseparable love, akin to some kind of cryptic demand.

Victor: [that same whisper but more coquettish]  A certain someone said before that people who act like spoiled kids will have more luck.

MC: That’s right! So, what do you want me to do now?

Victor: [whispering 2.0 continues]  Compared to other people’s concerts, I now…

Victor: [continuation] ––would rather hear you play the piano.

His voice is soft, his fingertips tangling in the ends of my hair with yearning.

MC: I’d be glad to be at your disposal, my husband.

I smile and give him a peck on the corner of his lips, then walk over to the piano in the living room.

–

[Tidbits]: MC addresses Victor as “我的先生;” addressing someone as “先生” has different meanings on different occasions, depending on the context it can mean “sir/ Mr./ husband.” But when said (我的先生, 我先生) / (你的先生, 你先生)– it literally just means “my husband” / “your husband” ahaha~ ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

–

MC: What would you like to hear?

Victor: “Humoresque,” I guess.

The familiar title of the tune makes a leap in my heart. I lift my gaze, and the moment our eyes interlock, it’s like we are locked in a secret code known only to each other.

The corners of my lips curl up, and the smooth sound of the piano leaps from beneath my fingertips and flows into every corner of the room.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate my innermost thoughts on each of the notes.

Let him be happy again, and let him take it easy on himself. At least for the moment, please let him forget all his worries.

When the music is over, I turn around to him.

Victor is leaning back on the sofa. The last twilight of the setting sun interweaving with the dim lights of the night gradually submerges his body in a half-deep red.

He gazes at me. The depths of his eyes look as if they are permeated with the rosy color of the horizon, billowing with the flow of tiny specs of glowing light.

MC: Listener, what’s your impression?

Victor: [laughs softly]  Very peaceful, very warm and tender, brimming with unbending strength… just like the vigor of a dummy.

The treasured memories spring out in shimmering lights from the years spanning into a long river, like the melody of the most moving and inseparable love in the world.

Time moves round and round in a circle, entwining us together forever.

–

[Tidbits]: The first time MC came to Victor’s house (Job date), she played this same music for him-- «Dvořák's Humoresque». And when he asked her why she chose this one, she gave him the very same answer Victor tells her as his impression of the music in this date. 4+ years have passed, and this place has long been “THEIR HOME.” 🥹💘

–

Victor walks up to me and takes something out of his pocket. He then puts it on my chest for me, right over the position of my heart.

Puzzled, I look down, only to find a delicate dendrobium flower brooch in quiet bloom. The enamel outlines the color of the petals in a tender and vibrant hue.

Victor: I bought this in the store that day when I was taking shelter from the rain. Didn’t a certain someone say that dendrobium is an auspicious flower?

Victor: Consider it a return gift for all the “little fortunes” you’ve given me.

The small flower in full bloom seems to be telling me that in every moment he’s occupying my mind, he is thinking of me too.

I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my head in his arms. That overwhelmingly familiar scent of his washes over me, filling my entire body as it flows along my veins.

MC: Victor, have all these “little fortunes” made you happier and feel more blessed?

He takes my hand, slowly pulling it up to his chest.

Beneath my fingertips, I feel a blazing heartbeat within my reach. Time and again, it seems to set my heart on fire along with itself.

Victor: [softest of the softest voices to exist]  Feel the answer to this for yourself.

—

📞 [Calls]: Here!

—

[Anika’s Afterthoughts, feel free to ignore LOL]

IT’S EASILY OFFICIALLY ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE DATES EVER!

The full-circle on what I ALWAYS keep saying, how Victor x MC are each other’s home, oasis, harbor, and how the softest parts of their hearts are reserved ONLY for each other.

We have seen how MC regards Victor as her beacon of light, her safe haven, her pride, and the grand miracle on this earth. I remember saying before that Victor’s contents are filled with spiritual references and probably the writers would just write him as 神 if they could LOL.

But we see him giving MC and us the constant reminders that he is no god, and he’s merely an ordinary human no one believes that Victor LOL. This date, nevertheless, gives us the picture that even “李泽言” needs a breather, and thankfully he has “his oasis.” (garden date reference ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

I just love the portrayal of their love for each other, love in the smallest of things, a single glance, a smile, celebrating and confronting every little joy and sorrow, together (their proposal, again!!). And I LOVE how he lays his vulnerability bare before MC’s eyes, because he has that confidence in himself and in her love for him.

AND MC!!! THE ROCK!!! You can feel the power and depth of her love for him, just by the way she mentally steels herself to tackle this situation, not to mention how she handles him and everything else! (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

And please, it’s just SO VICTOR to get a Dendrobium brooch for her, and to place her hand over his heart. of course he does ahahah. Their reciprocation theme in all its glory!!! 🌊❤️

I still have SO MANY things to say LOL... 😭❤️‍🩹

—

[memryse]

The magic of 3rd Life, or why such a simple hardcore miniseries works as well as it does

For a series which only lasted for eight sessions, 3rd Life has had a profound impact on the MCYT fandom. While it did go comparatively unnoticed on Twitter (as is consistent with YouTube-based Minecraft content as a whole, admittedly), Tumblr and other platforms have fallen in love with this series, and it’s become a vector for many fans to familiarise themselves with Hermitcraft and Empires SMP as well. But at its core, 3rd Life is a simple vanilla survival series with a gimmick. What about it resonates so much with so many people?

I would argue that its simplicity, its small cast, its vanilla gameplay “with a twist” is certainly part of it. It’s an easy series to consume, with many POVs totalling four hours or less, and it doesn’t require any prior knowledge of any of the members. Its mechanics are easy to understand. As a standalone, it functions perfectly – it’s immersive and can be followed easily by anyone, regardless of any prior knowledge they may or may not have. However, these factors alone don’t quite encompass what makes 3rd Life so special. Its true charm point lies in the format of the series, and how well it utilises improv.

[more below the cut; this is a fairly long post about 3rd/Last Life meta and my love of its improv. I'm mostly talking about 3rd Life here as it's a completed series, but this most definitely does apply to Last Life as well]

3rd Life is an entirely improv-based series. Whilst members may have a brief concept of the direction they’d like to take their series in – how heavily they want to roleplay, for example – the actual content of each session is fully improvised. Each episode is recorded in one three-hour block, and members are not allowed to play on the server outside of the allotted time other than specifically to finish builds. This time constraint prevents any planning from going into each episode, and interactions between players are completely spontaneous. Players simply run around the map looking for others to interact with (which is significantly easier with the limited world border) and chat about various events on the server, form alliances or deals, etc.

By definition, this almost completely negates the possibility of bad writing. Each player’s reaction to any server event is spontaneous, a legitimate reaction; they aren’t trying to play any specific roles or shoehorn in any specific events (with the exception of the Red King/Hand of the King roles, who were still completely improvising). Even the finale – a distinctly heart-wrenching and tragic scene – was improvised without Grian or Scar attempting to tell any specific story. According to Martyn, they weren’t roleplaying, they didn’t have any aims with that scene. It just happened to turn out in the way that it did, and they were legitimately sorry to one another. The server progressed in this natural way, and every person’s perspective tells a completely different story. It’s hard to identify any specific heroes or villains – fans of the Dream SMP can surely relate to this feeling, but I would argue that 3rd Life takes this one step further. 3rd Life is a tragedy from all perspectives, a tragedy which tells one cohesive story in its entirety before stopping as abruptly as it began.

3rd Life hinges entirely on its interactions between its members. Whilst solo content does exist – base building, for example – the majority of each session is spent interacting with others. 3rd Life is carried by its dialogue; nothing else drives the story, and yet many episodes are between 30 minutes and an hour long. It’s that dialogue-heavy. Members of the server have expressed trouble with even editing their videos because there is so much key dialogue that they don’t want to cut. People don’t watch 3rd Life for the actual gameplay, at all – there’s so little of it! They watch it for how each member interacts with the people around them. This is something not found in any other SMP I’ve encountered. SMPs livestreamed on Twitch have plenty of downtime, and people will happily watch streams on that SMP no matter what’s occurring on the server; people often watch them for their interest in specific members. Other currently popular YouTube SMPs, namely Hermitcraft and Empires, are well-balanced between solo content and interactions, and all server content hinges on the members’ various skills like building and redstone. 3rd Life is, to my knowledge, the only SMP which does not rely on building or redstone skills (what’s the point, when they’ll be dead the next week?), it doesn’t rely on the creator doing solo work talking to their chat, it doesn’t rely on planned roleplay. People legitimately just want to hear various members talking to each other. It’s a fascinatingly unique series in this regard. This dialogue-heavy aspect of 3rd Life ties back to my earlier point about 3rd Life feeling like a completely different series from all perspectives; with all of this dialogue being conveyed through proximity chat, so many events are entirely left out of other POVs, or presented in very different lights.

The pure improv format also helps significantly with worldbuilding, whilst also leaving plenty to the imagination. MCYT fandoms always require a significant amount of imagination to become invested in them, let alone make fan content of them, and 3rd Life is no exception to this. As discussed in this post, which was incidentally the inspiration for me to write this one, 3rdLife is full of lines which flesh out the series, which illustrate what happened better than can be shown in Minecraft. These lines are improvised on the spot, and are often complete throwaway lines in the creators’ eyes. In the fans’ eyes, they make 3rd Life feel alive, they provide plenty of material on which to base headcanons. Again, this isn’t necessarily unique to 3rd Life, it’s a common aspect of all Minecraft series, but I think this is where the rather angsty nature of 3rd Life comes into play. A dramatic survival game, entirely unscripted, with all events hinging entirely on your interpretation of them? It’s not hard to see why 3rd Life fans are so creative with character designs and fanfiction – hell, a lot of 3rd Life fics simply narrate canon in their own more dramatic light. Canon-compliant fics are significantly more common for 3rd Life than other fandoms I've encountered, because people hear these simple lines and want to dramatise them, put their own spins on them. I don't feel that this would be possible with any other series, not to the extent that 3rd Life fans do it. Other series' canon is either already dramatic, and so rehashing it can feel repetitive, or so lighthearted that people write AUs/new storylines. 3rd Life strikes a brand-new balance.

The development of its characters is also bolstered by improv. As no events on the server are pre-planned, members have to react completely spontaneously to anything that occurs. They don’t get time to think – only to react as though they genuinely were in that situation. As I said at the start, 3rd Life inherently lacks bad writing, because it’s not written. Ren, for instance, began 3rd Life as a kind and harmless person, with others often walking right over him. His reaction to his death by Grian and Scar’s trap spurs him to become the Red King; he raises an army and goes to war, and ends the series having taken countless lives, becoming hardened by war. He begins Last Life by isolating himself from others, seeming jaded and unwilling to form alliances, ready for another war to break out. Being improvised, it’s impossible to say how much of this was deliberate, or if Ren just started building his base without thinking about continuity from the previous season. This improv is what makes it feel so natural. It isn’t planned beforehand. This is Ren’s natural reaction to starting Last Life. It makes his character feel so much more real than it would if this was all scripted beforehand.

3rd Life is, overall, a testament to the power of improv. It manages to be compelling and dramatic without any acting feeling forced or wooden. Its characters’ arcs feel natural, because they are natural. Placing such a heavy emphasis on dialogue, with the gimmick of the server being a vehicle for interactions to happen rather than the sole appeal of the series, makes it truly feel as though we’re getting a glimpse into the characters’ lives, rather than watching a story which has been written beforehand. We get to watch everything unfold in real time. 3rd Life has a magic to it that, to my knowledge, no other SMP has been able to recreate.

[fingerless-glovez]

The Performing Arts Academy of Concordia (aka, COD characters as theater kids)

MC: The long suffering director whose productions are constantly falling apart due to her uncontrollable actors screwing everything up. Takes her cast and crew out to dinner after every show and orders A LOT of wine for herself.

Guy: Constantly competing with Toa for lead roles. Usually sets up scenarios to make Toa have an "accident" on or offstage so he can swoop in as his understudy. They never work.

Lynt: Will take any opportunity to fall asleep when not onstage. He even falls asleep onstage when the focus isn't on him. Thankfully, he always seems to know where to pick up. Most of his monologues are delivered through long yawns.

Fenn: Overacting extraordinaire. Milks any role he gets so hard to make sure everyone remembers the one extra he played. His physicality is always exaggerated and sensual, which often gets a rise out of the female members of the audience, even moreso MC. When not cast, he usually does stuff like script writing, ordering props, helping with set design, and pestering Knight.

Toa: Constantly competing with Guy for lead roles. Usually sets up scenarios to make Guy have an "accident" on or offstage so he can swoop in as his understudy. They never work.

Roy: Good actor who has all of his lines beated and memorized and has all of his blocking on point. Although he does have a habit of giving a nasty stink eye to whoever gets cast as Sherry's love interest, should she have one (Not even Grayson is spared from this). Also the head costume designer.

Rio: Supportive assistant stage manager. Often acts as moral support for the actors and stage crew. Often takes care of heavy lifting and special effects and stuff. Holds up cue cards for Tino when he forgets his lines. Often brings snacks for the actors on opening and closing nights.

Jasper: *in an alternate universe where he isn't a pervy jackass* Usher/security. Shows people to their seats, reminds people not to talk during performances, and removes unruly guests. Also a popcorn thief.

Tino: A perfectly competent actor during rehearsals. It's when he's in front of an audience that he starts to fall apart. His severe case of stage fright leaves him sweaty, stuttering and stiff in the middle of the stage, and relies on Rio to hold up cue cards for him (Vane forbid the card be upside-down).

Knight: Stage manager. Let it be known, when he enters the room, he's in charge. He's the guy directing the crew, organizing props, and generally making sure everything goes according to MC's vision (or is at least set up to). Constantly scolds Rio for encouraging the actors to eat while in costume, and Fenn for trying to use props to poke his butt.

Grayson: Actually the best actor among these people. Fenn signed him up as a joke once, but with Sherry's encouragement, he really stepped up to the plate. Dude's so good he made MC, Klaus, and Aidan cry during a really emotional scene. Shame he doesn't always get the chance to shine due to the constant need to wrangle his co-stars.

Lance: Usher and security, mostly (not really sure what else he'd do, he doesn't strike me as a theater kid)

Dia: Composer and conductor of the orchestra. Will sometimes cue a random orchestra hit if Lynt falls asleep onstage and no one else is there to wake him up. Sometimes understudies for Roy or Sherry or plays female extras (because there's only 4 girls in the school who aren't just stand-ins for other students, MC doesn't act, and nobody cares about Lonette, right?) and he does pretty well as an actor.

Lou: Main sponsor of the shows. He loves watching everything fall to shit in increasingly ridiculous and hilarious ways. Also loves watching MC slowly die inside next to him.

Sherry: Usually the leading lady due to being one of the only 3 significant females in the school. Extremely embarrassed by Roy giving dirty looks to her poor male co-stars when they kiss her. Often helps Roy with costuming.

Violet: Gets cast for a lot of villain roles, believe it or not. She gets a little excited and exaggerates her performances a lot, but it's the thought that counts, right? She also ushers and handles the box office.

Aquia: Run crew. He's a little too shy for the stage, but he likes to help wherever he can. He often provides flowers for the sets, and even helps with script writing from time to time.

Thoma: Provides concessions during intermission. Is also a swing.

MC's cat: Walks out onto the stage sometimes just so he can flop over and have everyone love him. Carefully removed by Lance, who snuggles with him for the rest of the show.

[celestial-heartbeat]

law of assumption: a basic guide

so you’ve probably heard of the terms “manifestation” or “law of attraction,” and maybe you became curious and decided to learn about what this means. or maybe this is your first time hearing these terms and want to learn more about it!

if you’re the first one, i want you to FORGET everything that you know about the “law of attraction” and any manifestation techniques you learned. if you’re the latter, i will explain what these terms mean...

( in this context), manifestation is the act of “attracting” specific circumstances, events, people, material objects and even physical/mental aspects about yourself.

the law of attraction (LOA) is the principle/ideology that “like attracts like.” what you put out into the universe (i.e vibrations, energy etc.), is what you will attract back to yourself.

so now that i’ve explained these terms, i’ll now explain why the law of attraction is incredibly faulty. while the inherent principle of the LOA is mostly true, how to actually manifest using the LOA isn’t as straightforward. most LOA teachers will teach their students a BUNCH of techniques on how to “raise their vibrations” or “align themselves with the universe.” they will say that scripting, visualizing, drinking water etc. is what will give them their manifestations. but that is NOT true at all !! you do not need any of those things to manifest. all you need is…

your thoughts

...ok so what does that mean?

what is the law of assumption?

the law of assumption (in the most basic terms) states that “your thoughts and assumptions create your reality.” what you assume to be true, is what will be reflected onto your outer reality (aka the 3D).

to understand this concept, you MUST understand that you are constantly manifesting, whether you are intentionally doing so or not. before you learned about manifestation, you were STILL manifesting!! think about it: you didn’t have to script or visualize to manifest failing a test or your SP not liking you. it just manifested unintentionally because you weren’t conscious of your thoughts!! with the law of assumption, you are consciously making the effort to manifest what YOU want, instead of leaving everything on “auto-pilot.”

you also must understand that you can manifest ANYTHING YOU WANT. anything. you want a million dollars? done. you want to marry your celebrity crush? done. nothing is impossible, at ALL!! you are the creator of your reality. you call the shots, no one else!

the reason why LOA teachers claim that their techniques absolutely work is because...they do work! but why do they work? because they ASSUME that they work. they are literally using the law of assumption while practicing those law of attraction techniques. they assume that scripting, visualizing, 369 method etc. is what gives them results and therefore it gives them results. however, you do not need to do ANYTHING whatsoever to manifest. you only need two things: your assumptions and persistence.

how to create an assumption

so what even is an assumption? the definition of the word assumption is: “a thing that is accepted as true or as certain to happen, without proof.”

we all have assumptions about something. whether it be about people or circumstances, we all have an idea about these things that we have accepted to be true, and often without proof. according to the law of assumption, what you assume to be true is what you will manifest. if you assume that you’re always broke then you’ll always be broke. if you assume that your crush never wants to be around you, then they will never want to be around you.

so the best way to manifest your desires is to CHANGE your assumption about your desires. that’s it.

example: let’s say that i want to date a certain guy. however, my current assumption about this guy is “he is not my boyfriend, he's not interested in me .” therefore, this guy is carrying out my assumption and is not interested in me at all. however, if i wanted to manifest him being my boyfriend, i would change my assumption from “he is not my boyfriend” to “we’re in a relationship together” or “he’s completely in love with me.” etc.

these short statements are known as affirmations. by repeating these affirmations consistently, you will change your assumption about your desire. and once you change your inner assumption about your desire, the 3D (outer reality) will reflect your assumption back to you. you also don’t have to believe these affirmations. as long as you keep affirming them they will still work. you may also be wondering: “how often should i affirm for my desire?” personally i would recommend every time you think about your desire, but some people like to affirm 24/7. the amount of times you affirm doesn't really matter, if you assume that a certain amount works for you then it will work for you!

however there’s another very important component in the law of assumption...

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

persistence: why is this important and how do we do this?

the whole point of repeating affirmations is to change your inner assumptions and beliefs about your desire. you want to get into the state of KNOWING that you already have your desires even if you don’t see your desire in the 3D. this is the key!!

example: let’s say i want my bf to text me more. so i decide to affirm “he texts me constantly.” however, in the 3D, i see that he didn’t text me. well instead of going back to the old story of, “he never texts me” i just ignore it and keep affirming “he texts me constantly” REGARDLESS of what i’m seeing in the 3D. cause guess what: it’s not real at ALL. your outer reality is just a collection of your old thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions. therefore by not reacting to it, you will manifest the change that you want. also, whenever i’m reminded of my desire for him texting me, i will affirm “he texts me constantly, he gives me all of his attention etc.”

now whenever you affirm, the most important thing to remember is to NOT let your thoughts slip back into its old pattern of thinking, even if you see that you don’t have your desire in the 3D. this is because the 3D reality is just a collection of your previous thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions. when you react to the 3D, you’re just reaffirming your undesirable assumptions. therefore, instead of getting discouraged and upset that you “don’t have your desire yet,” JUST KEEP AFFIRMING AND PERSISTING!! the 3D will conform to your new assumptions but only if you keep persisting in them. you must remember that you already have your desires the second you want them. the 3D literally has NO choice but to conform and reflect those desires. it’s literally the law!!

to summarize...

your thoughts and assumptions manifest

you can manifest anything

affirm as if you already have your desires, (because you do)!

your 3D is only a collection of old assumptions, an illusion. so don’t react to it as if it's the truth.

[liquidstar]

absolutely no one asked but im thinking about the “i love emilia” scene and how misunderstood it is by nerdboy fans that kind of miss the whole point of the series. subaru’s rejection of rem is narratively a rejection of the typical isekai power fantasy. 

when subaru was first summoned to lugnica, he instantly assumed he was getting his very own isekai power fantasy, he thought he would have the coolest magic powers and his own harem and whatnot. and well, those tropes are still somewhat there, but its a deconstruction so hes not really getting what he wants. not only is his return by death ability a very very isolating one but also a painful and traumatic one, and its not even a flashy cool superpower, its literally one that only works so well because hes weak enough to constantly die.

so by arc 3 subaru feels somewhat robbed. he always had a bit of a tendency to treat the people around him like characters (literally, he calls people NPCs) and he had a tendency to boil them down to tropes and sort of expect that they act a certain way, that things would go a certain way because hes The Protagonist. but things arent going according to his script. the final nail in the coffin is when he gets humbled by julius at the royal selection hearing, julius is literally the “knight of knights”, an ideal subaru will never have.

subaru claims he entered the royal selection hearing and fought julius for emilia, but emilia sees right through this and rightfully calls him out- she tells him he only did it for himself, that he doesnt really know her, that hes constantly projecting his own will onto her. shes right in every sense, subaru has placed her on a pedistal and can no longer treat her like a person, the “special treatment” he talks about isnt something she wants but he doesnt care what she wants. he only cares about what he thinks she wants, whatever works best for his fantasy. he’s literally objectifying her, its not subtle. so she packs her bags and leaves.

so subaru sulks in the capital while rem watches over him. and rem stays with him and supports him and comforts him despite his terrible fucking disposition- arc 3 subaru becomes borderline unlikable at times, especially when he decides that the witch cult attack on roswaal’s manor is a good thing because he can play the part of the hero and save emilia and force her into a princess role once again (remember shes running for KING). but eventually hes faced with the grim reality of the situation, like, its really fucking drilled into his head how messed up this is. 

and he realizes hes not a hero. he breaks down in front of rem and confesses what a pathetic loser he actually is, how stupid and lame hes been, how much he hates himself. and she tells him that she loves him and....

actually, let me go on a tangent here, im going to skip ahead to arc 4 because... arc 4 subaru actually perfectly mirrors arc 3 rem. so forgive this rambling for not being linear. anyway, in arc 4 subaru has overcome his feelings of entitlement, but he loses rem, the person who encouraged him, the person who he still did love very much (maybe not in the same way, but he did love her). and now he hates himself twice as much. he hates himself so much that hes actively suicidal. 

his most obvious parallel for suicidality is beatrice, yes, but the way in which he’s self-sacrificial parallels rem. rem, who literally calls subaru her “reason to die” and throwing herself into danger- thats the same shit subaru does in arc 4 to save everyone. subaru sees no value in his life in arc 4, neither does rem. for some reason people ignore rem’s inferiority complex, her lack of self confidence due to just being ram’s little sister. ram is LITERALLY the reincarnation of a god so we cant blame rem for feeling a bit... sidelined compared to her twin. her love for subaru is selfless, but selfless to a fault.

but subaru is also a fantasy for rem; one of the series biggest themes is “self recognition through the other”- essentially the way people see you vs the way you see yourself, and how in a sense both of those are equally real. rem literally sees subaru as her hero, she sees him the way that he expected himself to be seen when he came into this world, she sees him as the fantasy he wants to live out, and as her own fantasy as well. she literally tells him about the fantasy life she imagined for them in the future and everything. 

subaru initially offered her this fantasy in an attempt to run away from the events at the manor, he told her they could run away together and live out their lives. and rem rejected him, because her love is selfless, because she understands that this fantasy isnt right- she puts that over her desires. and she still confesses her love, to show them that hes worthy of it for who he is too. 

and through this its made even more clear that rem IS the fantasy, the girl that would stick by you no matter what, worship the ground you walk on, see you as a perfect power fantasy hero no matter how plain you are. but shes still a realistic character, she only works as a fantasy if you refuse to see her as one (like subaru used to) and ignore the fact that her love is also flawed, self-destructive, and co-dependent one. meanwhile emilia is the reality, the girl subaru cant force into a box, wont solely depend on him, and wont be projected upon- she demands to be her own person, with every fiber of her being, because we all know how much emilia hates being treated like someone shes not.

so... after some encouragement from rem, subaru chooses not to take the easy (slothful) route. he tells rem straight-out “i love emilia” and this time he means it in a true way.

and a million nerdboys who wanted to fuck rem cried their eyes out that night because they wanted to live the fantasy vicariously through him, missing the entire point of the series. subaru crushed the fantasy by choosing the reality. 

and the character development really reallt stuck- arc 4 subaru and emilia are frankly kind of adorable. not perfect given the horribly traumatic shit going on, but when emilia had her mental breakdown in the trial and started to act incredibly dependent on subaru, he was absolutely horrified to see her so traumatized because he knows she would never want this- he no longer wants her to depend on him especially at the cost of her on sanity. and subaru would later reference rem’s “i love you” speech to him by giving a similar one to emilia, giving her the same encouragement rem gave him. 

[jewishbarbies]

why's it so bad? strap in (and this is the short version, i'm probably missing a lot) -they treat their writers abysmally -they treat their actors who aren't their golden boy RDJ abysmally -they put the risk of "spoilers" above literally everything else -the script is never set, they majorly change/cut/rewrite/add to it constantly while filming based on the changing whims of the higherups, regardless of it makes sense or not -actors don't get some scenes until minutes before shooting (sebastian stan didn't know they were sending steve back in time until 40 minutes beforehand and brushed him off when he asked questions that would have been needed to inform his acting choices) -their secrecy around scripts is scientology level insanity -actors don't get to keep scripts or copy anything down or take pictures or notes -they have a short amount of time in a small room with someone intently watching them read it, before it's taken away (actors with LDs do not get extra time to read, according to anthony mackie who is dyslexic) -often times lines that aren't theirs are totally blacked out, even the lines of their scene partners -a lot of the time actors aren't acting off each other, they're alone in a greenscreen box with no clue of what the other performer would be saying or how they'd be responding -they admit they don't hire people who like/care about the source material and called it a "red flag" -they've admitted they don't care about superhero stories -movies like ffh and cw are simply trying to capitalize off of popular/better executed media and throwing out their original plans which narratively made sense -a lot of the higherups also admittedly hate the characters they're writing/story planning for (basically anyone who isn't tony stank) and hate that character's fans

[lady-griffin]

One of the best things that has come from the “unfortunate” amount (imo) of background scene info we’ve gotten from the creators of Arcane, is that it shows us how Arcane could’ve easily not be as good as it was. 

Obviously, a lot of a very talented and skilled people worked very hard and put a great amount of time and effort into this show, which is the main reason for why Arcane is so fucking amazing. 

That shouldn’t be ignored, Arcane didn’t just happen by dumb luck or the stars aligned; time, dedication, and hard work were put in and that should be acknowledged. 

Still, we also see some of the “mistakes” or miscommunication along the way, helped Arcane along.

Arcane was created by many, many people, who don’t (or didn’t) always see things the same way. Arcane is not from one single mind and that’s true of most, if not all, the movies, comics, and tv shows we watch. Stories are rarely (and I do mean rarely) amazing, because one single creative genius was behind them, but instead are so compelling, because many different people collaborated together to create a cohesive story.

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That being said, there’s also the bonus element as someone who loves film, tv, and media to see ‘accidental writing’ occur in some of my favorite works. Basically, that’s an idea, theme, character trait, or some kind of world building that emerged from the story, not because the author intended for it to happen, but it just formed out of the story for whatever reason.

I think one of my favorite examples for Arcane is that according to writer Amanda Overton, Vander was supposed to have tried to kill Silco after he rescued the girls from the bridge; but the animation team made them look so much younger and that was a mistake, because of miscommunication.

But the story we actually got in the end is far more interesting and better, than what the original intention seems to have been.

Sidenote: It still feels very hard for me to believe that no one caught that Vander and Silco look so much younger in the drowning scene, before the show aired.

So, while it may not have been the original intention, I wonder if it was something they chose to keep in the story, even if it was not in the og script. 

Because that makes a whole lot more sense to me. 

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-        Vander symbolically gives up violence when he saves the girls, so him trying to drown Silco after that, takes away the symbolic weight and meaning of that scene. He literally drops his gauntlets on the ground to carry the girls back to safety. 

-       We see or learn how different Vander has become after the bridge, since years before he was willing to drown his ‘brother.’ But that seems hard to imagine for the Vander we meet in Act I; so, again, we see how different one can become and how their priorities shift after having children - solidifying the parallel between Vander and Silco. 

-        We see the Hound of the Underground return when he’s been pushed to his extreme - two of his kids are now dead and one is in severe danger.

Vander ‘gave up’ being the Hound to be well, Vander, father of four. We even see in the scene when he thinks all three are dead, it looks like Vander gives up, that is until he sees Vi is still alive. 

Vander is not pushed to such an extreme because he has nothing to lose, but because he now has everything to lose.

-       Vander also didn’t seem to be all that aware Silco was still out there (lurking/scheming) or an active threat. But, if he tried to kill Silco after he saved the girls – than it definitely feels like Vander should’ve been far more concerned about Silco, because….

Well, there’s a difference between not hearing from a man 5-6 years after you tried to murder him and not hearing from him 15+ years.

It makes far more sense if the attempted drowning took place years before the bridge, because even if Silco was an ever-looming presence or painful ghost for Vander, he still isn’t on the forefront of Vander’s mind as a current threat - because again Vander hasn’t heard from Silco in over a decade. 

-       Silco’s line to Deckard about the important lesson he learned “when he was about your age,” makes far more sense, because Silco appears to be around Deckard’s age, or a few years older when Vander tried to kill him and he fought back with everything he had.

-       Silco’s line of “I hated you, but you kept my respect. Until you made peace with them. Played lapdog after everything we suffered.” -

Does not work in the slightest with the idea that Vander tried to kill Silco after the Bridge Rebellion. It really doesn’t, like there’s a decent amount of mental gymnastics and loops to go through to make that work.

However, that line absolutely works with the idea that Vander tried to kill Silco because their ideas of how to achieve independence were diverging, with Silco potentially becoming more of an extremist, willing to hurt anyone if it got them independence. 

Silco hated Vander for trying to kill him, obviously, but since Vander was still fighting Piltover and trying to achieve Zaun’s independence, but in a different way, Silco still respected Vander for that, even if he disagreed with his methods or thought Vander wasn’t going far enough - Vander was still fighting the good fight. 

It’s not until after the bridge rebellion, after Vander saved two girls and adopted two more kids and had something to lose, that Vander started to play “lapdog,” making a deal with Grayson - that’s when Silco lost his respect for Vander and his anger and resentment grew in the time between after the bridge scene (or whenever the deal was made) and the rest of Act I.

-       It also explains why Silco seemed to have developed such a hatred for Vander’s kids. He views them as taking one of Zaun’s greatest champions away from Zaun, they’re the reason why Silco “lost respect for Vander.” You could even argue they are scapegoats for Silco, someone else for Silco to blame, not himself or Vander.

-        Of course, Silco hating Vander’s kids and hating Vander for choosing them over Zaun is quite the compelling story, given the contrast between who he was and who he now has become in the end, because of Jinx. Silco now loves Jinx as HIS daughter and he had everything he ever wanted or fought for on a silver platter, but he couldn’t do it, because he couldn’t give her up.

-        In the end, Silco understood why Vander did what he did in “playing lapdog.” Because now Silco has become someone who his younger self would’ve lost respect for and that doesn’t matter to him. Silco picks Jinx over Zaun. Silco finally has someone that actually matters to him, more than anything or anyone, someone he can’t lose. 

-       Vander trying to drown Silco when they were younger, just shows us how different these two men once were and how different they ended up being. Even when they are in the same spot, what they end up doing is quite different. 

Vander was willing to give up fighting for his kids, and for years he did that, but in the end, he never stopped fighting to keep one of them safe, not until he took his last breath.

Silco on the other hand was more than willing to burn everything and everyone else to the ground for Jinx, but when she killed him, he accepted it and with his last moments, tried to give her comfort and reassurance, the best he could. 

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I hope Arcane keeps the story we got in the end.

Sidenote Again: It still feels very hard for me to believe that no one caught that Vander and Silco look so much younger in the drowning scene, before the show was aired. 

So, I wonder if, since a lot of people seem to think the creative process is just - have an idea and said idea becomes the final product and that’s it. Or the insane notion that the first draft of anything should be THE main source of authenticity that one should always consider above everything else...even though that’s not how the creative process works, like at all. 

Because, you know, ideas and stories grow, evolve and change as you work on them. 

So, while Amanda said that the scene was a mistake or miscommunication between the writers and the animation, maybe they kept the change the animators made and even worked with said change, within the story.

Maybe??

Because that makes a a lot more sense, considering how well the story works with the idea that Vander tried to kill Silco when they were younger. 

That aside, there can also be a problem in focusing so much on a “mistake” and trying to fix it retroactively, especially if you are able to do so in future movies or seasons. Because while not always, usually in the end that causes more problems and inconsistenties for the show, rather than solves things.

Star Wars has so many, so many examples of this. From the original trilogy’s re-releases to the new trilogy’s, well disaster of a story as they kept trying to fix the “complaints” from fans as each new movie came out. 

Arcane trying to fix previous “mistakes” in future seasons could also potentially create a barrier or exclusive nature for the show; because you might have to know background information to understand certain scenes, which…

That’s bad storytelling. 

If I can’t understand your show based on what you give me in your final product, that’s a major problem. I shouldn’t have to go onto social media, read articles about the show or know the author’s intent to understand what is happening. 

It’s fine if that stuff it out there, but it should be a bonus, not a requirement to watch, enjoy or understand your piece of work.

And I think a lot of people forget that, fans and creators alike, especially as communication becomes easier between the two.

I hope we see Arcane keep the version they gave us. That Vander tried to kill Silco when they were younger, it works with the story we got in the end.

I also think it’s a good lesson for many creative types - sometimes us creators, we need to loosen our death grips on our creatives works and learn how to adapt. 

Just my thoughts.