#I feel like he might’ve in the 70s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shuadotcom · 1 year ago

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Curse The Stars | HJS (M)

🪩 Summary: Meeting someone at the disco to take home for the night is customary for you, especially in your line of work. But meeting this man on this night at this disco feels more like fate as Joshua becomes much more than just your routine one night stand.

🪩 Pairing: Salesman!Joshua x Starlet Afab!Reader

🪩 Genres + AUs: Smut, fluff, a little bitty bit of angst, strangers to lovers, fwb to lovers, 1970s Hollywood au, porn with a lil plot

🪩 Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI)

🪩 Words: 8.4k

🪩 Warnings: Profanity, mentions of alcohol/drinking, poorly written 70s themes and slang (I’m a 90s baby I did my best okay)

🪩 Smut Warnings: Dirty talk, oral (f & m receiving), face-fucking, praise, fingering, pussy slapping, spitting (it’s tame lol), marking, doggy, mating press, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstim, creampie, reader is called good girl once, breeding kink?, big dick!joshua as usual

🪩 Note: Here’s my fic for @svthub’s 70s;teen collab!

This fic was heavily inspired by Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé. It’s my 2nd favorite song off of Renaissance and as soon as I heard it I knew I needed to write some horny little songfic. At the same time it came out I was rewatching some Home Run performances and Joshua in those stages drives me absolutely insaneeee and here we are 🤗 This was supposed to be much shorter but I got carried away and added a little more plot than intended oops.

Thank you to my amazing, sweet, lovely beta @horanghater. I promise I’ll stop asking you to beta for me last minute!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽 And thank you to the talented and wonderful @playmetheclassics for always making the most gorgeous banners for me! 🥺 💛

“Hi there beautiful, can I trouble you for a dance?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve been approached - not tonight or any night when you find yourself out on the town. You’ve already had a handful of people propose a dance, but all of them were men that did nothing but stare at your tits or give off the finest of sleazebag energy.

This man though…this man is different.

His round eyes stay locked on yours, an unassuming, even sweet, smile plastered onto his lips that makes the corners quirk upwards. The smile reaches those brown eyes that bat at you and render you speechless for a moment.

He’s pristinely styled, with perfectly slicked back white-blond hair, and wearing fancy attire like everyone else is; this is a new disco, and only the people with money or connections are allowed in. A freshly pressed blue suit, a very fitting lavender turtleneck, and shiny chains that glisten under the bright lights overhead, all cling to his body in ways that make your eyes linger on him longer than you should.

When he notices you ogling him, his smile becomes more of a smirk, one full of charm, and on any other man, it might’ve been suspicious, but this man has an aura to him that doesn’t make you immediately put your guard up.

“Sure,” you finally say, putting your hand in his outstretched one. With a small wave to your friends who are all giggling behind you, you’re off to the dancefloor, the man’s much larger hand engulfing yours.

With “Last Dance” having just been released, it’s the only thing that’s been playing everywhere you go for the past few weekends and tonight is no different. It plays over the speakers while you and the handsome man dance together, your bodies seeming to know where the other is moving without even having to say anything. Any hesitation that you’d enjoy your time with him fades away as the song plays, both of you singing the lyrics along with Donna Summer as he spins you around.

Typically after the first dance, you’d prepare to have your partner offer to buy you a drink in the hopes of letting the liquor loosen you up, or they’d even skip straight to the part where they’d offer to find a hotel room nearby for you to be alone.

Once again, though, he is different.

This handsome stranger simply asks if you want to keep dancing and you do. Song after song, you stay on the dancefloor under the bright, multi-colored lights, laughing and singing with him until you’re both finally in need of a rest.

“I’m Joshua,” he says loudly when there’s a slight, brief lull in the music. “Joshua Hong.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” He smiles that sweet smile again and repeats your name back to you.

“Such a gorgeous name, but I would expect nothing less from someone so gorgeous.” The line is cheesy and you’ve heard it too many times, yet somehow, Joshua still manages to make your skin hot.

“I bet you say that to everyone you dance with!”

“Only the ones I really like.” The mischievous quirk of his lips has you rolling your eyes, but you still think it’s cute.

That’s when you decide that you want to be the one to speed the night along this time.

“Wanna get out of here? My place isn’t that far from here.”

Joshua seems surprised, though only momentarily, at your bluntness, but he nods, taking your hand in his again and letting you guide him through the crowd, catching your friends’ attention with a wave on the way out and going out into the crisp fall night.

“How’d you get here?” he asks once you’re out of the doors.

“One of my friends’ boyfriends dropped us off.” He makes a noise of acknowledgement and leads you both to the busy parking lot full of people standing around and laughing, the good times spilling out from inside the bustling building.

Joshua approaches a sleek, teal convertible Cadillac. When you reach the passenger side, he holds the door open for you, gesturing you inside with a bow and flourish of his hand.

“Out of sight! I shoulda known you’d have a fancy car.” With a whistle, you slide in and he gently shuts the door behind you.

“And why is that?”

“Most actors your age do. I would know - I’m an actress. I’ve had many a fellow actor try and get me in his Caddy.”

Joshua gets in on his side, tilting his head in question. “You think I’m an actor?”

“You’re not?” He shakes his head. “Oh.”

“Why’d you assume that?” At being questioned you clam up, clearing your throat a few times.

“Well, you’re just, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Ugh, because you’re crazy handsome, okay?! You have a face that should be on film, but don’t go getting a big head about it!” You can tell he’s going to do exactly that, the corners of his mouth raising in an infuriatingly attractive way.

“Well thank you, beautiful. Good to know you find me ‘crazy handsome’.”

“Don’t start! Now I have to wonder what it is you actually do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Are you a screenwriter? You seem like you have a lot going on upstairs.”

“Thank you, I think? But no way. I wouldn’t even know where to begin writing a movie.”

“Okay, then a singer?”

“I do enjoy music.” At your victorious look, Joshua shakes his head. “But nope, not a singer.”

“What about -”

“What about telling me how to get your place so we can leave the parking lot?”

“Oops.” You had been so wrapped up in marveling at the fresh leather and knowing a little more about your partner for the night that you nearly forgot you’re still surrounded by the nightlife in the parking lot.

The drive to your apartment is only about ten minutes away. Between telling Joshua where to turn, you sing along to the radio. Now that you’re not being inundated with booming music, you get a chance to hear Joshua’s singing voice and it only serves to leave you breathless.

His voice is so soft and sweet yet confident as he hits the notes effortlessly. Momentarily you falter, forgetting to warn him of the next turn simply because you’re too busy staring at him slack-jawed.

He has to call your name to bring your brain back from the Joshua-shaped hole it was slipping into just listening to him. You point out the final right turn to him, doing your best to ignore how much more handsome he is out of the bright disco lights with just the moonlight illuminating his immaculate features.

As soon as you step inside, he’s taking in your apartment, complementing your pad, your choice of furniture, and the paintings hanging on your walls. You, on the other hand, have only one thing on your mind.

When you approach Joshua, stopping him mid-sentence with your lips as he’s asking you a question about your record collection, he’s surprised, but only momentarily as he kisses you back, warm hands cupping your face.

Joshua fucks you stupid into your mattress that night. Making you cum over and over again with his dirty words and names and his big dick keeping you full and satisfied more than any other hookups from nights past.

When he finally lets you rest, body spent and listless, you all but pass out on his chest with him making no move to leave you alone for the night which is enough to have you dreaming about him when your tired eyes slip closed.

When you wake up the following day it’s to an empty bed and a note on your nightstand.

Sorry to leave you like this beautiful, but I’ve got work.

I’d love to dance with you again. Call me xo

Joshua

His phone number stares back at you at the end of his note and you mull over the idea of calling him before putting the note in your nightstand drawer instead. You can’t say you’ve ever had a hookup earnestly leave their number, so you need to let the thought of calling him back ruminate.

By the next weekend, Joshua is still on your mind and you find out that you can say the same for him. You’re back at the disco with your friends, the one you met him at, and when you’re at the bar getting drinks, a familiar voice sounds in your ears.

“You know, I waited by the phone for you all week. I was pretty hurt when every time it rang you weren’t on the other line.”

You practically jump out of your skin when Joshua appears, a pout on his pretty lips as he hovers close to your side.

“I…I um,” you stammer. You hadn’t expected to see him again, especially not so soon.

“If you don’t wanna see me again-”

“I do!” The words tumble out, cutting him off and he snickers at your eagerness. “I mean, I do wanna see you again. Truth be told, I’ve never had someone leave me their number and honestly want me to call them. It’s usually just for show.” Anytime a number was scrawled on your arm or a business card was left and you called the day after, you were usually met with disinterest or a nonchalant promise to meet up again. They never kept their promises.

“I wouldn’t leave my number if I didn’t want you to use it. I swear.” Joshua’s smile is sincere. His eyes meet yours, pinning you in place, and soon neither of you are moving or speaking - only searching the other for the answer. Eyes are the window to the soul, and when you search Joshua’s all you can find is honesty and gentleness and you allow yourself to believe it.

“Okay. I’ll call you later this week?”

“I hope you do, but do I have to wait that long to spend time with you or do you wanna get under that disco ball with me?”

The idea to buy a drink is forgotten when you take Joshua’s hand and get lost in him and the music all over again.

That night ends up the same as before with you in his car being driven to your apartment.

Tonight, though, your destination is your couch, talking to one another, drinks in hand to keep the mood comfortable. Joshua is an incredible listener, nodding along in a way that you know he’s truly taking your words in, and asking you questions about yourself. He asks what got you into acting and where you’re from. He asks about your friends, your favorite restaurants, and your favorite things to do when you’re not working.

If you rack your brain, you can’t remember the last time you had a meaningful conversation with a partner. It’s…different, in a good way.

You find out that he was invited to the disco you met at by a friend of his named Taehyung, whose name you had heard in your circle before. Hollywood isn’t that big a place.

“So, I completely forgot to ask, what movies have you been in? Truth be told, I don't recognize your name or your face, and believe me, I'd remember if I saw such a stone-cold fox on the big screen.” His words are flirty, but he asks with genuine interest.

“Well, I’ve only been in a few films, but they’re probably not ones you’ve seen.”

“Try me.” After you name the five medium-sized, indie films you have a spot on the credits in, Joshua tries to nod along but you can tell how obvious it is that he hasn’t seen any of them.

“That’s okay. I wanna be the next Pam Grier or Cicely Tyson, but I’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Hey, I’m sure you will be. No - I know you will. I can tell you’re gonna be a real star.” There’s no hint of sarcasm behind what he says. He’s so sure of himself - of his words - and a warmth overtakes you, settling deep in your chest.

“Thank you.” Your words are bashful and he seems to notice, scooting across the mustard-colored fabric of your couch, closer to you.

“Anyway, what do you do other than make people all flustered just for fun?”

“I work with people,” Joshua answers with a chuckle, taking a sip of his drink.

“You work with people?”

“Yep, all types of people. Demanding people, nice people, some of the worst people I’ve ever met. You name it.”

“I work with people too, Joshua, and we already established you’re not an actor.”

“I could never be an actor. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“Okay, so what are you then?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you do?”

“For what?”

“For work, Joshua!” Throwing your hands in the air at his back and forth you nearly knock your drink over, but catch it in time, setting the glass on the oak coffee table, not noticing when you completely miss your coaster.

Joshua laughs, commenting on how cute you look frowning at him like this. “I’m a salesman.”

“Is that all? Jesus, stop being so weird and elusive. What do you sell? Houses? Some fancy, shiny cars or something?”

His expression stays neutral, suddenly transfixed by the ice swirling in his cup.

“Joshua?”

He heaves a sigh and finally meets your eyes.

“Washing machines,” his words come out in a rush. “Appliances in general, but I uh, I’ve sold the most washing machines in my department.” He takes a hearty sip of his drink, not meeting your stare.

“Okay? What’s the problem with that?”

“I - you don’t care?”

“Why would I?”

Joshua chuckles, running a hand through his neatly styled platinum hair. “Whenever I’m on this side of town, the second someone finds out I’m not an actor or model or whatever they assume I am, usually they lose interest in me. I know we’ve only seen each other twice but I really like spending time with you. I was worried you’d tell me to get out or something.”

The man whom you’ve only known for a week at best and who always looks so confident and self-assured is wringing his hands in front of you, an air of nervousness surrounding him.

“Lucky for you, I’m not as shallow as the other folks in Hollywood and I don’t care what you do. Besides, spending time with you is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” Joshua seems to search your face for any hint of doubt behind your words, but he finds none.

He takes this as a cue to lean over and kiss you and you don’t think twice to kiss him back, melting into his lips and his hold.

Once again, Joshua fucks you within an inch of your life, staying over again, but this time he doesn’t have work until a little later so he sleeps in with you. After breakfast, he props you on your laminate counters and rocks your world, the remainder of your eggs and toast left cold on the side.

Joshua Hong is quickly proving to be someone you’re unable to let go of and you’re starting to believe that you don’t want to.

You and Joshua expertly fall into a groove. The next few months with him are the same; meeting at the disco on the weekends, sometimes he comes over during the week after you’ve been on the phone for a few hours, and he has sex with you on every surface of your apartment (even a few times in his Cadillac he had saved up for), then he sleeps over and goes home, only for you two to do it all over again. It becomes routine and is the very definition of your relationship with him for months.

Joshua is easy to be with and talk to and what you have works with him - you’re comfortable with him - more comfortable than you’ve ever been with a man.

That’s why it’s so easy to fall in love with him.

You don’t notice it at first and you’re not sure when your enjoyment for being around him morphed into a need to see him or when you went from butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he complimented you to full-on fawning over him internally, but it snuck up on you and hit you like a bus.

The first time it dawns on you is when you’re both cuddled up on your couch, watching a new episode of The Jeffersons. George Jefferson makes a joke that you both find particularly funny, causing you both to erupt in a fit of laughter. You peek over at Joshua and you feel your heart skip a beat. His eyes are in the shape of crescent moons (which you’re realizing you always notice and it always makes you melt) and his radiant smile that makes his whole face light up is as infectious as always, and you can’t help but beam even more. His laugh, always so airy and melodic, rings through your apartment and you think to yourself how much you wish you could hear it every day for the rest of forever.

The next time your feelings make themselves known is when he’s over and he offers to cook you dinner, which you eagerly accept.

It’s just a simple pasta dish, nothing too fancy, but seeing Joshua float around your kitchen in your frilly red apron does something to you. Every so often he’ll pause in singing along to the record playing in the living room to let you taste the sauce or the noodles, sometimes planting a kiss on your forehead or cheek before feeding you. Your heart (and your pussy) clenches at how attractive he looks and at the thought of seeing him like this more often. And by “more often”, your brain attempts to conjure up the question, “What if you lived together?”

You quickly shake the thought away, scolding yourself. You and Joshua have only been…whatever this is for a little over four months. The idea of living together is simply ridiculous.

It’s when four months roll into six, then eight, and nearly nine that you accept that your thoughts now belong to Joshua Hong and Joshua Hong only. When you start seeing him in the sunshine and away from the bright night lights, you feel the shift in your heart finalizing. In simple flared-bottom jeans and fitting shirts, Joshua is just as stunning and alluring as he is in his finest suits and quaffed hair. He can still make you laugh the same and you have the same meaningful conversations and he can still fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your whole life. He’s the same slick guy that dances with you whenever you’re both feeling good and after nearly a year of knowing him, you finally accept that you’re in love with him.

The decision to tell him is one you have to make on your own.

“When are you going to stop messing around with the washing machine salesman?”

“Yeah, you need someone who will put you on the map! What about Hyungwon Chae? He’s been in a few flicks and he’s sooo handsome!”

“Yeah! Oh, or Jungkook Jeon?! His latest album is rumored to be wildly successful and I’ve heard it’ll be just as groovy as his last!”

The conversations with your friends around Joshua are always the same. It doesn’t matter how much detail you go into about the latest sweet thing he’s done for you or the latest concert he took you to or how good he is in bed (you keep that to yourself now since they never appreciate it), it’s always the same criticism. He’s not famous, he’s not rich - he’s just some “normal” guy to them and they can’t seem to fathom why on Earth you’re still seeing him.

They don’t seem to get that he’s so much more than a frequent hookup to you. At least - you want him to be. You can’t tell how he feels or if he wants more, but how will you ever know if you don’t tell him?

Your heart hammers against your chest at the thought of telling him and having him turn you down. The worst he can do is say he wants to keep your time together the same: doing things that make it feel like you’re more than what you are. Even worse is that he can stop seeing you altogether. Even the whisper of that makes your head hurt and your stomach tangle in unfixable knots.

But then there’s that possibility that Joshua digs you as much as you dig him, if not more. That possibility is what burrows deep into your brain and gives you the confidence you need to tell him.

Confidence or delusion - either way, it’s a chance you’ll take.

As an actress, you have to remind yourself that life is full of risks. You wouldn’t have any of the flicks on your resume that you do if you didn’t go to those auditions, put yourself out there, and give it your all. That’s what you want to do with Joshua - it’s what you need to do. You don’t need so-called friends to tell you that.

You have to tell him. You have to know if he’s also too nervous to admit his feelings or if you’re being foolish and pining for nothing. He’s quite possibly the love of your life and you need to tell him.

You don’t see Joshua for two weeks after you realize how you feel about him. Between his extra shifts and a rush of auditions from your manager, life seems to keep you apart for much longer than you’d like.

It’s when you finally have a night to yourself, away from the hustle and bustle that you get the time you’ve been yearning for.

You’re stepping out of the tub when you hear your phone ringing, the shrill sound breaching your quiet evening.

“I’m coming!” You call out to no one, slipping on your fluffy robe and slippers before shuffling through the apartment and to the kitchen. You make it just in time, picking up the pink phone dangling from the wall.

“Hello?” The tone you take on is slightly annoyed, hoping the caller knows you’re unhappy with the interruption.

“Hey, beautiful. Hope I’m not interrupting your night.” The smooth sound of Joshua’s voice melts you on the spot, expertly deflating your growing irritation as easily as popping a balloon. You’re embarrassed to admit just how easily Joshua Hong can get you to abandon anything else that isn’t him.

“Hey, Shua. No, I’m just at home tonight. I just got out of the tub.”

“Oh yeah? No big fancy parties with your fancy friends?”

“Nope. It’s just me, all alone with no plans for the rest of the night.” Your fingers tangle in the phone cord, wrapping the springy wire around your hand.

“I see. That sounds pretty boring if you ask me,” he hums, quickly picking up what you’re putting down. “No one to talk to or spend time with.”

“Hmm yeah, you’re right. Just me, myself, and I, all alone here,” your true intentions behind those words dripping from your flirty tone like honey. Not even five minutes ago that sounded like a perfect evening, but you already know why he’s calling, and spending the night with Joshua sounds like a much better option.

“Such a shame for you to be home alone all night. Maybe you can get someone to keep you company?”

“I think I’ll have to. I just don’t know what to do with myself otherwise. Plus, I’m feeling awful lonely.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to be lonely now would we?” Joshua is smirking into the phone, and you can so clearly envision his grin with mischief written all over his pretty face. He wants you to initiate tonight and he’ll go back and forth as long as you’ll let him. Typically you have no problem keeping up with his snark, but the sound of his voice alone has you craving him like some sex-crazed lunatic.

Which you suppose you are when it comes to Joshua.

“Baby,” you breathe out, deciding you’re yearning for him far too much to play this game tonight. “Please come over?” You make sure to add a sprinkling of a whine at the end of your request, punctuating the entirety of your words with a tiny moan.

Joshua hums into the phone, pretending to think even though you both already know his answer.

“And how could I say no to you, hmm?” Joshua shuffles on the other end, his voice lowering an octave, but volume loud and clear to you. “I’m done work in a few. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be over to see you. Think you can wait up for me, darling?”

“Always, Shua,” the implication behind his words has you buzzing with excitement, your own voice lowering in a hushed tone even though you’re home alone.

“See you soon, beautiful.”

As soon as the phone hangs up you rush into action, shuffling back to your bathroom to completely dry off and moisturize your skin. With styled hair and a spritz of Joshua’s favorite perfume on you, you slip into your favorite silk nightie, the one that dusts your ankles with the slit in the side that goes up to the middle of your thigh. You don the matching robe and put on one of your favorite records, mixing two drinks after you do so.

Just as you’re about to sit down there’s a knock on your door. Your stomach does flips as you go to answer it. You hadn’t known when you wanted to tell Joshua that you want him as more than a friend he sleeps with every weekend, but this feels like the right time. Truth be told you don’t know when the right time even is, but the longer you wait the more it’ll gnaw at you and won’t leave you alone.

“Look at you,” Joshua wraps his arms around you as soon as you let him in, drawing you into his embrace. He places a kiss on your lips, lingering for a second before pulling away. You hate the way you want to chase his lips.

He follows you into the living room, sinking into the couch next to you and you hand him the drink you made.

“It’s just an old-fashioned, nothing fancy.”

“An old-fashioned is pretty fancy to me. You didn’t have to make me anything, darling.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

Your words earn you another kiss, this time on your cheek and you get a new round of tingles across your body.

Joshua tells you about his day as you sit and drink together and the whole thing feels so painfully domestic. And you want it to be, so badly. Not that you want to stop acting - it’s been your dream as long as you can remember so you would never abandon it, but you want Joshua to be a part of this now and a small piece of you worries that he won’t want to. Hollywood isn’t for everyone and he’s voiced time after time how he could never see himself in showbiz or the business in general. But that’s fine with you. The time you’ve spent with Joshua far surpasses anyone else in the business you’ve ever given your time to anyway.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I lost you for a moment there. I didn’t mean to bore you with my department store tales,” Joshua chuckles, sipping his drink.

“No, you could never bore me! I was just thinking is all.”

“About?”

“You,” your answer is automatic and it’s the truth.

“Oh yeah?” You nod in response as Joshua tilts his head at you, eyes sparkling as he looks you over. “C’mon. Let’s boogie.” He puts his glass down and grabs your hand instead, leading you to the middle of your living room.

Minnie Riperton serenades you as Joshua brings you closer, your bodies slotting together perfectly as you sway to the music. He hums along, his eyes closing as he dips you for show, both of you sharing a giggle as he brings you upright.

These are the moments that let you know that you’re in love with Joshua Hong. Everything he does, everything he says, it’s all with a tenderness and a care that you’ve never experienced, but it still makes you feel incredibly special.

The beginning chords of “Lovin' You” fill the room, as Joshua’s fingers dance across your waist.

“I love this song.” He begins humming along again, and this is the moment you’ve been waiting for, you think, sucking in a huge breath of air.

“And I love you,” the words fall from your mouth before you can think twice and you do your damndest to make yourself sound confident.

Joshua’s smile slips in an instant, his expression turning serious. “What?”

“I’m into you, Joshua. So much. I wanna be more than what we are.” He’s stopped swaying completely, neither of you moving. The only sound other than the song still playing is the sound of the blood rushing loudly through your ears.

“Y/n…”

Your heart is this close to shattering into a million pieces. “What, you don’t like me back?”

He must notice your forlorn expression, because he reaches for you again, gently touching your arm. “No, it’s not that I just…”

“What is it then? Huh?”

Joshua heaves out a sigh, eyes closing before fixing you with a steady gaze. “I just sell washing machines, Y/n. I don’t have some bright future like you. I’m not getting a star on the Walk of Fame. I’ll get promoted to a store manager at best. I’m not like you.”

You blink at him, taking in his words. “That’s what you’re worried about?! Joshua, I don’t fucking care! I wouldn’t care if you worked at a factory or were a carpenter. Hell, I wouldn’t care if you were unemployed - I like you for you. No, I love you. I love you for your heart and your sense of humor and how sweet you are to me and how you actually, genuinely care about me and my interests and my dreams. I love you for every little thing about you, Joshua. Not for how much money you make or any of that.”

He’s silent, letting you pour your words out, your thoughts flowing from your mouth like a broken faucet. “Y/n…” he finally starts. The fear that he’ll turn you away just because he feels like he’s not enough grips you. Your ears tune into the song still playing and you do the first thing you can think of to get him to stop. You sing.

“Lovin' you I see your soul come shinin' through…”

He looks confused, almost unsure if you’ve truly begun to sing to him. “Y/n -”

“And every time that we oooooh. I'm more in love with you.”

“I’m-”

“La la la la la la la…do do do do do-“

Joshua closes the small gap between you two, his lips colliding with yours, putting a stop to your serenade before you can hit Minnie Riperton’s falsetto. You don’t object in the slightest, kissing him back with all your might.

“Did it work?” You mumble against his lips as you separate. “Did I get through to you? Are you staying?”

“I mean, you definitely made me lose track of what I was thinking of saying to you. I think I also know why you told me that one time that you’ve never considered being a singer.”

His teasing earns him a push against his chest, barely even moving under your force. “I pour my heart out to you in song and this is what I get?!”

He dodges the remainder of your playful hits and grasps your hands in his, his thumbs caressing your skin.

“Seriously, Y/n. I’m just a guy who works at Sears. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want me like that?” You can’t help but lift a hand and smooth out the crinkles on his forehead with your thumb, attempting to push the frown off of his perfect face.

“The only other time I’ve been this sure about something I wanted was when I knew I wanted to be an actress.” His eyes shine as you speak, searching for sincerity. “Do you want me like that?”

“God, yes, I do. I have for months.”

Relief washes over you, putting you at ease. “Then you can have me. In any and every way.”

Joshua doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. Soft lips meld into yours, your body molding against his as he holds you around the waist. His hands roam your body, his touch leaving searing warmth in its wake. He kisses you, sufficiently taking your breath away as he does. Your fingers card through his platinum locks, mussing the strands, but he pays it no mind as his lips trail from yours, down to your jaw and your neck. Joshua is nothing short of an expert when it comes to your body and the places you like to be touched and kissed.

When he reaches the most sensitive spot on your neck, the spot that makes your toes curl, he sucks, sinking his teeth into the soft skin. A sharp cry slips out of your mouth as he nibbles on the skin, sucking hard enough that there’ll surely be a mark there in the morning.

His hands wrap around you, palming your ass through your nightie and bringing your body impossibly closer to him. His erection strains against his corduroy pants, hard and aching just for you. You heave a heavy sigh when he finally leaves the patch of skin he’s working at alone, only to move to another swatch of skin. Your knees almost give out and you have to grab onto his blazer to stay upright.

Joshua’s hands roam over the silk and he continues to spend extra time on your most sensitive of areas before he decides he’s satisfied with the marks he’s decorated you with. He moves to kiss you again and with each slide of his lips against yours feeling more frantic by the second, so does his grip until his fingers catch on the knot of your robe, tugging it gently.

“Can I…?” he questions into your mouth.

“You never have to ask.” His lips curl into a smile against yours as he makes quick work of removing your robe and tossing it aside. He gently bunches up the fabric of your nightgown and eases it up and over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor.

Now with no barrier between his wandering hands and your bare skin, Joshua’s hands move across you with purpose, one hand cradling your lower back and pushing you into him again. The other beelines for one of your breasts, his large hand scooping one up to knead at. He kisses you with so much hunger you can feel the need rolling off of him in waves and his hands that paw at you serve to make you even wetter.

He bucks his hips shallowly against you and your need for him reaches an all-time high. When you pull away, Joshua looks forlorn at losing your warmth, but when you drop to your knees in front of him, letting the brown shag underneath you dig into your skin, his expression morphs into one of excitement.

Hands work at his belt buckle, undoing it, then his pants, and you help him step out of the fabric along with his underwear. His cock, in all of its thick, throbbing glory feels as heavy as always in your hands when you pump him a few times, watching the precum bead at his tip. Wrapping your lips around the bulbous head, you suckle at it a few times, loving the way that Joshua starts breathing heavily above you, one of his hands coming up to settle on the back of your head.

You ease his length into your mouth bit by bit, enjoying the way the thickness stretches your lips and your throat as you take him in. You clench around nothing, already anticipating that same stretch in your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, just like that, darling,” Joshua grunts when you finally take him as far as you can fit him in your mouth, your hands wrapping around the rest of him. Your head bobs in tandem with your hands as you stroke him, letting him hit the back of your throat.

Both of Joshua’s hands are on your head now, his fingers getting caught in your hair as he tugs a few times. You’ve had his dick down your throat enough times to know what he wants, so you go slack, letting him fuck your mouth, gagging each time he pushes your head to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes slip closed, letting him use your mouth to the pace he wants. Your core throbs almost painfully as you suck him off and you have to rub your thighs together to feel any semblance of relief, although it’s nowhere near enough.

Joshua stills his hips then, keeping his length buried in your throat, your nose touching his pubic bone as you slowly breathe out of it. You swallow around him a few times, Joshua letting out a long, rumbling groan from his chest before pulling you back, his cock leisurely sitting against your lips, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

“Keep sucking me off like that and I’ll have to paint your pretty face.”

You suck him in one more time then pull off of him completely with a pop, tongue dipping into his slit just to tease him. “Do it. Want you to cover me in your cum.”

Joshua hisses, the grip on your hair tightening as he pulls you off of his length once and for all. “Fuck, you’re so nasty. Sit on the couch, baby.”

Ignoring the soreness in your knees, you crawl to the couch and perch on the edge, awaiting Joshua’s next instructions. Joshua unbuttons his shirt, your eyes greedily drinking in every inch of his toned, honeyed skin as he does so. Once he’s fully naked in front of you like he has been so many times before, you lick your lips, wanting nothing more than to cover him in marks of your own.

That will have to wait as it’s Joshua’s turn to drop to his knees and make his way over to you, settling in between your already open legs. His hands, always so big and warm and strong, grip your thighs, spreading them even further, so agonizingly slow.

“Mmm, there she is - drooling for me already. Crying to be filled up.”

“Josh- shua, please!”

“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” Joshua drags his finger through your sticky folds, watching your arousal coat his fingers.

“Please finger me or fuck me - anything!”

The smirk that tells you he plans to tease you plays on his lips, the corners quirking up in the most aggravating, charming way.

“Anything?”

“Please!”

His palm meets your core with force, smacking your pussy and sending a jolt through your whole body. Back arching in the air you let out a tiny scream, and more follow as he does it a second, third, fourth time.

“Joshua, baby, fuck, please!”

“Hmm? Thought you wanted anything I give you? Slapping your greedy pussy isn’t enough?”

Shaking your head vigorously, you beg him for something more. “Wanna be stuffed, please, Shua!”

His eyes darken at your words and he takes a mercy on you, landing two more smacks against your mound before he dips a finger into your core, a sigh of solace leaving you. He watches your mouth hang open as he works his finger in and out at a torturous pace.

“Always so warm and wet for me.”

“Always,” you assure him. You’ll always be ready for him in any way that he wants you.

Joshua slips a second finger in, stretching your walls more. You can write a whole dissertation about how good Joshua is with his hands and how much you love them, but his pace picks up, sufficiently wiping your brain of any of those eloquent words.

“Fuck!” You yelp as he keeps pumping his fingers into you and leans over to wrap his lips around your aching clit. He sucks at the bud, pistoning his digits and crooking them, his fingertips catching against your g-spot. “Shua!”

“God, I love it when you say my name. Say it again, baby.” To coax you, he flattens his tongue against your clit, putting pressure on it as his fingers move faster, and rougher, bringing you closer to your peak. If it’s up to Joshua, he’d have you cumming until you pass out, but you have to draw the line somewhere after the first night he wanted to see how many times he could get you to cum for him (his record is eight, and you haven’t had the fortitude to let him try and break it just yet).

“Joshua - Shua, gonna cum!”

“Go on then, do it, baby, cum for me.” He continues to suck on your clit, his teeth grazing the nub a few times and that’s all it takes to have you let go, yelling out Joshua’s name again as you do. He doesn’t give you time to catch your breath because his mouth then latches onto your pussy, tongue darting into your wet heat.

“T-too much!” Your whimpers are half-assed and he knows you don’t actually mean it which is why he keeps at it, slurping your juices and fucking you with his tongue. Joshua hums against you as he goes and it’s embarrassing how quickly you cum again, but your partner loves it, chuckling against you as he laps up your release and places a kiss on your puffy lips.

“You always taste so sweet, baby. Flip over for me?”

“‘Course,” you rasp, turning your already tired body over, Joshua helping with gentle hands on your hips. He stands up, stretching tall as he walks to his forgotten pants and gets out his wallet.

“Damn it,” he huffs, rifling through his wallet and checking the pockets a few more times.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to bring more condoms. You okay waiting for me to -”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I need you now.”

“Y/n, we’ve never -”

“I know, but I haven’t been messing around with anyone else since we started seeing each other. Have you?”

“No, I haven’t. How could I when I have a whole you waiting for me here?” Even with your ass in the air and pussy glistening with his spit, it’s the way he says this - with so much care and admiration in his tone - that has you flustered.

Joshua joins you again, hands running down your back, goosebumps popping up on your flesh under his touch. He stops at your ass, squeezing and kneading your cheeks, spreading you open, the cool air of your apartment making you jump.

The chill is quickly replaced with the searing warmth that is Joshua as the tip of his dick nudges your entrance. He purses his lips, leaning over to spit on both his length and your hole before plunging into you. His girth stretches your walls deliciously, inch by inch of him entering you.

You let out an audible shudder as he goes, relaxing your body as best you can as he stuffs you.

“Look at you,” Joshua coos once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. “Taking my fat cock so well, darling.”

“Feels so g-good, Shua. So fucking good.”

“Yeah? I’ll make you feel even better, baby.” Joshua grips your waist and pulls his hips back, all the way until only his cockhead catches at your hole before snapping forward, shoving his dick back into you to the hilt. You can’t help but wail at Joshua’s thrusts, hips meeting you repeatedly as he drives into you over and over again.

Your record still plays in the background, the slaps of Joshua’s skin against yours mixing with the melody along with yours and Joshua’s moans. The drag of Joshua’s dick against your gummy walls has you shuddering underneath him. Without a condom, he feels so much hotter inside of you as every vein, every ridge, every pulse of his cock can be felt with each thrust.

“Shit, just like that, Shua!” Your neck cranes to look over your shoulder, attempting to gain some leverage against the couch cushions by leaning on your elbows. The sight of Joshua, skin flushed and shining with perspiration, eyebrows knitted in concentration with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth is enough to send you careening towards your end. You don’t get a chance to warn him before it hits you, the building pressure in the pit of your stomach releasing as you’re pushed to let go, burying your face in the cushions with tears pricking at your eyes.

“Fuck, look at you. Couldn’t even hold off from cumming again. You like my cock that much?”

“Yes!” you sob. “So much! So good…”

Joshua pulls out, you whimpering at the loss of him, but he doesn’t leave you empty for long. Joshua’s big hands help flip you over on your back, ass almost hanging off of the couch. He grasps your thighs, pushing your knees into your chest as he enters you again, burying himself in your messy heat. Joshua’s hips drill into you, balls slapping against your ass each time he surges forward.

Your record has stopped playing by now, the only song sounding through the walls of your apartment are your sobs of Joshua’s name and his grunts as he uses all of his strength. He keeps you pinned between his body and the couch, dick battering your sore cunt as both of you chase your ends.

“Shit, baby you’re so fucking beautiful. Taking my dick like a good girl.”

“Y-yeah. I’m your good girl!”

“Yeah, you are. Always so good. Letting me fuck you raw. Wantin’ me to fill up this filthy little pussy.”

Joshua swivels his hips, tip grazing against your spongey bundle of nerves. “Just like that!”

His hands keep your legs up and spread open as he does what you beg for, repeatedly pounding into your g-spot as your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as any more sounds die on your tongue.

“Look at you. All fucked out and drunk for my dick. Gonna pump you full of my seed, maybe even fuck a baby into you. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Fuck me, Shua!”

“Fuck yeah, I will. Gonna flood this cunt with my cum and get your belly nice and round. Gonna make you mine forever.”

The Earth shatters around you and a tsunami of fire washes over you when you cum again, your back arching painfully as you scream out for him. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing his cock like a vice which triggers Joshua’s orgasm.

“Shit - fuck, Iloveyousomuch!” The words tumble from Joshua’s lips as he cums, painting your insides sticky and white. He milks himself as he keeps his pace, his seed spilling out around his cock, leaking out and dribbling down your ass. Feeling him stay true to his word and pump himself dry into you draws a final, much smaller, weaker orgasm out of you as tears fall from your eyes both at the oversensitivity and hearing Joshua say to you what you’ve hoped he would for nearly a year.

Neither of you move, panting like crazy as the sweat on your bodies starts to dry along with the cum still slowly trickling out of you. When Joshua finally eases out his softening length, it’s with a groan on both your parts. Your sore legs lower, limply hanging off of the couch. The sensation of the rest of his cum seeping out of your abused hole and down your legs makes you sigh, your hips wiggling in response.

“Look at you, baby. You’re a mess.” He’s still a little out of breath but still manages to tease you.

“And whose fault is that?” He simply chuckles at you and you watch him through bleary eyes, heave himself off of the couch, and go into your kitchen.

He’s back in no time, two glasses of water in his hand. He offers you his bicep which you take, using him for leverage to sit up. You eagerly accept the water, downing the glass in less than thirty seconds, dry throat more than grateful.

Joshua’s next to you on the couch, watching you as he hydrates as well. The two of you sit in silence, emptying your cups and catching your breaths. For a moment, you worry that his confession was only in a bout of pleasure, but as if reading your mind he speaks.

“I meant it, you know. I love you.”

That’s all you need to hear to have you practically launching yourself in his lap, your lips crashing into his for a long, but sweet kiss. Joshua cradles your face, kissing you back just as hard, both of you eventually giggling into each other’s mouths.

When you need to breathe again, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his. Joshua’s brown eyes shine as they meet yours, your stomach flipping as you’re reminded for what feels like the 500th time just how handsome he is.

“I know you already took a bath, but I think we need to get you in the tub again,” he comments, gaze flickering down to the cooling streaks of his cum on your legs. And how he’s all yours.

“Only if you join me this time.”

“Only if you make time to let me take you on a proper date tomorrow night. We’ve spent a ton of time together, but I need to court you for real now.”

“As if I’d say no to you. I’m in love with you after all.” A brilliant, blinding smile takes over Joshua’s face and your heart leaps. No matter how much time you spend with Joshua, you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of laughing with him or smiling with him. And especially not dancing with him. You’ll never tire of that.

Net tag: @kflixnet

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taranida · 2 months ago

Text

It's not a lake, it's A. Wake

In the introduction post I’ve made when I’ve just created this blog, I put a few points, that I consider pretty telling of what kind of theories one might see here. One of them was “Alan is the ocean;” meaning, of course, that Alan is the Dark Place. And it has nothing to do with metaphors or tortured madness of his mind.

Alan is the ocean because Alan was connected to the Dark Place long before the whole Bright Falls ordeal happened. Sadly, it’s very hard to tell if the Dark Place existed at all before Alan or if it was retroactively written into reality; I would assume that it did exist at least as a primordial ocean: we have Ahti as a testament to the Dark Place being (a part of?) a primordial ocean and Door as a testament that it is the In-Between. Both of those entities stand out even in the Dark Place, not bothered by its shenanigans, and seem to be pretty comfortable — chilling on the streets of the Writer’s city or dancing with the mop. If anything, both of them showed that they are more disturbed by their time in our world. Ahti has a breakdown in Valhalla, and Door even left his loved ones in a questionable manner to get out. Yet, there are some hints that the Dark Place might’ve been at least shaped to what it is now by Alan. We’ll get to it.

So, how does Alan fit into the narrative of being the primordial ocean, the Dark Place, the In-Between and the Master of Many Worlds, if he (doesn’t even remember his own birthday) wasn’t born before the late 70’s? Door was a man grown in the 80’s; Ahti was kicking in the 60’s, as we learn from the Control’s Foundation; Cauldron Lake gave a headache to the natives centuries ago — all predate even Alan’s birth, let alone his ability to make a coherent story. Well, let’s explore this.

The main question here is: what is time for the Dark Place. I would say it’s just a suggestion; the Dark Place may or may not recognise this concept as something meaningful, but surely refuses to follow it as a rule. We see confirmations all over: in the first game we are shown the clock, that runs backwards, changing the events of the past and hiding the ultimate loop from us, in AWAN we have Mr. Scratch, who sends Alan back in time per the rules of the story; in the second game… what is there that doesn’t defy time, really? “Everything happens all at once and never” is as true as “tomorrow will never happen,” because the time is an idea, most likely, introduced by Alan himself not to go crazier than he already does, hence the wordplay and semantics are important.

But let’s look at what was for sure rewritten retroactively and shown us without the need to piece together hints and come to this conclusion (I am looking at Tom Zane right now and might lightly go into “who wrote whom” this time). We for sure know that the ultimate loop of the first game happens behind the screen: Alan sits to write with the last page in the typewriter, and the last page is this:

Not much text can be seen here, but there is a full version of it:

It’s a bit hard to read (hashtag FreecamForRemastered), so here’s the text:

In the cabin, two stuffed ravens stare at Wake and Alice from atop a bookshelf. Wake is surprised to find his typewriter sitting on the desk. Alice has planned the whole thing behind Wake’s back to get Wake here. Wake feels angry and betrayed. Everyone keeps pushing him to do something he is not ready to do. Wake and Alice argue about it. Suddenly, the lights in the cabin start to flicker. Unseen by Wake and Alice, Barbara Jagger stands in the shadows of the cabin. As soon as it began, the flickering stops and Jagger is gone. Alice is startled by the flickering lights. Wake is too angry to stay. He needs to cool off, to clear his head. Wake storms out of the cabin. He is certain that Alice will not follow him into the dark. When Wake gets to the car, he hears Alice. She is screaming in terror, calling his name. There is a splash of water and then silence. Alarmed, Wake picks up a flashlight from the car and rushes back to the lake. Wake is surprised to see that the cabin is dark, the lights are out. He looks for Alice. Wake scans the dark water with his lamp. He sees her form underwater, sinking into the darkness. He draws a shuddering breath and dives into the black water. Wake wakes up gasping from a nightmare. He is in the car. The car has crashed against a tree. It’s night. He is bleeding from his forehead. He has hit his head. He staggers out. He calls out Alice’s name. There is no reply.

And it already has differences from what we learn in the playthrough of the game: Alan never got to the car; Alan had a flashlight on his person; the screams were heard all the way to the cabin; Alan got into the cabin, not scanned the lake; the car didn’t crash against the tree. All those little details, they are all wrong for us. Most importantly, this manuscript is written in third person and present tense, when all of the manuscripts we can find in the first game are in first person and past tense (if the POV character is Alan, of course). It’s not a Departure we play, it’s the Departure that Alan wrote to allow Alice to escape.

This page flash is followed by the clock going backwards and the time adjusting itself to the moment when Alice is surging up from the lake. She also tells us in the second game that her stay in the Dark Place was a bit different:

“I remembered being trapped inside that lake, a dark ocean with echoes of myself, my fears, my photos. Inside a dark tide of madness. The same events and images, looping again and again. And then I saw a light. Your light. You dove in just as I swam out.”

…than in the manuscript that Alan wrote in his penultimate loop in the first game:

We can assume, he rewrote it to keep Alice’s sanity intact. She did, after all, have a nyctophobia, and just being trapped with a malevolent darkness around — for her — will be worse than looping with photos and events, even if he couldn’t completely protect her from fears and dark madness, he had to stay true to the concept of the Dark Place.

But, again, this might be reality retroactively rewritten or the memories rewritten; the clock and the cutscene of Alice being dragged into the lake are enough to know for sure: Alan can and does rewrite the past.

Alan can toy with time by writing loops into reality less subtly. In AWAN his whole winning strategy was to exhaust Mr. Scratch with loops and prevent him from killing Alan by rewinding time (might not be the first time; surely not the last). The whole plot of AWAN is the proof that time is a weapon and an effective one: loops are not designed to run in circles or start fresh every time, they can be consciously used and abused by Alan to reach his goals. He can rewind, he can start fresh, he can start from the particular point in time, keeping the allies’ memories intact, he can even pull radio-shows from other nights just to hear how his loved ones do. He can also mess everything up, and the reality together with the Dark Place will put things into place. In the “Emma Sloan” manuscript, we have the date:

In the “Lost in the Dark Place” manuscript, the time spent in the Dark Place:

On the radio, Alice agrees with the two years:

“It’s been two years. I— this sounds awful, but yes, I believe he’s dead. Otherwise he would’ve... well, you know.”

You might guess what the issue is here. Alan could not be missing for two years in 2011; he dove into the lake in September of 2010, even if it’s the very end of 2011, he’s missing for only one year and three months. Yet, this ussie was glanced over; or AWAN, contrary to my belief (and Alan’s), actually takes place in 2011, and Alan pulls the interviews from a very far future. Both possibilities prove the point: time is just a suggestion. In fact, it might be a suggestion so much, Alan is lost in it completely. 2011 and 2012 merged into one thing in his mind, and writing and the Dark Place delivered.

There is also Control’s AWE where the alert goes off far in the future; it’s just one of the things that can suggest the time being bent, I will not go into details about the others, since they are not as solid as this one.

In the second game… boy, do I really need to talk about time there? Allow me to be as short as possible: between each draft of Initiation Alan goes through the loop of Return, that resets again and again: we have loops within loops, and our reality, the world bound by the laws of time, waits patiently when Alan will finish walking around Noir-York, collecting echoes, watching Night Springs, and dancing in his musical, just to rewind to the very moment Nightingale crawls up from the waters of the lake. In one playthrough we can see Alan being shot with the bullet of light at least four times. And one playthrough where Return happens four times takes, let’s say for convenience, a week. The first playthrough is not the first big loop of Initiation-Return Alan goes through, it’s not even the first with Saga Anderson as a hero; she, too, is stuck there for multiple loops already (immunity to the story, my arse). How much time Return ignored while our world was frozen? Who knows! A lot.

Just to hammer it down, let’s also throw in the Time Breaker episode. There time was broken so much, eternity lost its meaning. It is a failed story, I want to stress it, nothing from there made its way into reality in anything more than echoes, but the very fact that Alan can write something like this is telling. He also didn’t fail because of this tremendous amount of time he chose to ignore, the time spent as a tree or hanging on the tree wasn’t an issue there.

And, as the last nail in this coffin, that you can choose to ignore: AWR might or might not be yet another set of loops of the first game: Alan did add the Coffee World and other things he needed to establish for Return, effectively rewriting the past.

All of this paints a pretty clear picture: Alan is above and outside the very concept of time; time is his tool, a point in the story, a toy.

Now, let’s forget about that for a moment and talk about Alan’s life before he encountered Barbie as the Dark Presence. His previous works matter. There are several things that point to him being able to affect reality before 2010 (however many 2010’s he looped through).

Known works of his, that are canonically confirmed being written before 2010 are: the Errand Boy story, the Alex Casey novels, the Night Springs episodes “Over the Threshold, Darkly” (the Control one), and whatever the name was before Alan adapted the episode into AWAN’s “Return,” plus a number of others, that are not specified to my knowledge (yet, we can guess some from the ones that are featured in the first game). All of them, one way or another, are connected to reality.

But before we will talk about it, I want to note one thing. The assumption that Alan is… not a “creative writer” but merely a clairvoyant stenographer of sorts, due to his inspirational visions in the second game is quite popular, yet I strongly disagree and would challenge it. In short, every writer, in one way or another, takes inspiration from reality or other fiction (that was inspired by reality), it’s a given and doesn’t make someone a mere stenographer; we have solid evidence that the events of the Alex Casey novels are different from the life of the real FBI agent Alex Casey; the visions are short plot ideas, meat on these bones must be added for it to be a proper work of art; the Dark Place does not realise any fiction that is not a genuine act of creation:

Therefore, no, Alan is not a clairvoyant stenographer, he is a creative writer. And a good one for that matter; at least I had a blast with “Errand Boy” and an excerpt from “Return to Sender.” With that out of the way, let’s return to the point.

From the works we know, the “Errand Boy,” probably, is the weakest argument, but it did contribute to the Bright Presence’s role (if not even existence), yet it was realised too close to Cauldron Lake and probably pretty deep into the loops, so I won’t go into details with it.

The Night Springs episodes, on the other hand, are somewhere in the middle. We know that all of them were written at the very beginning of Alan’s writing career:

And some of them were realised (or foreshadowed, if you chose to believe that the episodes from the first game have one or two written by Alan, as I do) in the past. Now, I know this is a touchy subject for the community, but at this point, I think, the bigger confirmation of Control being Alan’s work, can be only Remedy’s statement, which reads “Alan wrote the events of Control.” The script of “Over the Threshold, Darkly” is the start of the whole Hiss ordeal and the establishment of the Federal Bureau, which deals with the paranatural, as well as Trench’s (and, one might argue, Darling’s) fate. And if the Hiss and Trench (Darling) at the moment of the writing could be years away from the events that were described, the FBC might or might not have been momentarily turned into what we see it as.

There is also this tricky reversed part in Balance Slays the Demon, that was written for AWAN:

It will happen again, in another town, a town called Ordinary

One can choose how to interpret this line, of course, but we can be certain: the boys are doing their seer/connected-to-the-Dark-Place thing and sing about the truth, that will be. Now to the interpretations. We can take the context of the song and assume that in the Ordinary the “Balance” (Hedron/Polaris/Jesse) will slay the “Demon” (Not-Mother and her bunch). We can take “it” as “AWE” or “the overlap,” meaning the Altered World Event will happen there; an overlap, similar to the one in Night Springs, Arizona, will open. Or we can infer that, given that the song is playing in AWAN, yet another script for the Night Springs will start to come true in the past in the town of Ordinary: the setup for “Over the Threshold, Darkly,” or there might be a different one. Or all those together at once might be true.

The line also could be written off as a teaser for This House of Dreams, since it promises a future event, not stating that something already happened. But here comes this whole thing about the concept of time: we already established that the Dark Place couldn’t be bothered by it. In RCU the concept of something happening in the future for something to happen in the past is as logical as it is for us in reverse. The future influences the past as much as the past influences the future.

There is yet another moment when Alan’s works might’ve played a major role. Mr. Scratch’s involvement in the story. Was he truly in Departure, or was he introduced in the script that was later turned into AWAN’s “Return”? Or was the episode of Night Springs “Man in the Mirror” written by Alan, and that’s why we were treated with Mr. Scratch? The personality of the double in the episode surely matches the sadistic playfulness we see in AWAN.

Let’s move to the Alex Casey novels. In the dialogue between the FBI-Casey and Alan, we learn that the books have, as Casey himself put it, “echoes” of his life, as if he were watched. And then Casey says a peculiar line, reminiscent of the Hitchhiker’s:

“You think you’re God? You think you can just make up stuff? Play with people’s lives and kill them when you think it adds to the drama?”

It goes like this:

“I think you like using people, Wake. Taking their lives and twisting them into your stories. And when someone gets hurt, it’s kickass material for the next one. […] This is not your playground. And I’m not your fucking creation.”

The answer to this is even more curious, but let’s take this apart first. Casey is clearly upset (he even spills his coffee!) and trying to prove that he’s not Alan’s creation. It goes a bit against what he said about echoes: if he felt that he’s being watched, then, surely, the logical conclusion will be that Alan is a creepy stalker, and Casey needs to file for a restraining order (or not, the Alex Casey series is finished; some other legal action maybe?). But for some reason Casey flairs up about using people, getting them hurt, and then using their pain. Why is that? Did he check the dates on the publishing of the books and the events of his life that coincide with what is depicted there? Casey gives us nothing concrete, but the two last sentences heavily hint, that the fictional Casey went through things before the real Casey experienced them himself. Alan, most likely, didn’t create FBI Alex Casey per se, but he did influence his life with his writing.

The response Alan gives to Casey’s outburst is very telling:

“It doesn’t work that way. Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true. I saw visions of what’s happening, what will happen, dreams. I tried to use them in my writing. I understand how dangerous it is now, even with a paralyzing amount of planning. I think I stopped writing. I think I gave up. But there’s a manuscript. Maybe I forgot not to write. The Dark Place makes you forget.”

Yeah, real cute word-salad, Alan. What I want to draw attention to is this line:

“Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true.”

Even in the Dark Place… so, what about the outside of the Dark Place? More rules, but, you know, in general, it’s kinda a thing? A bit more hoops to jump through, a bit more fidgeting with the Clicker, a bit more annoyance, but you’ve been there, done that?

He does follow up with “visions,” but at this point it’s very hard to follow — what he’s talking about: the Dark Place or the real world before the Dark Place? Or both, because he’s confused and his head hurts? While I’m not going to claim that Alan is not a capable parautilitarian, who, indeed, can peek into other people’s lives and dreams or even other dimensions and could see into Casey’s future this way, it doesn’t change that, if taken at face value, he kind of admitted to being able to make fiction come true even outside of the Dark Place. Allow me to make an example, so we are all on the same page, let’s say one is playing basketball and states, “even in training, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to dunk.”

Let’s also not forget that Casey is not the only FBI agent whose life was in one way or another affected by the Dark Place and Alan: Finn, Robert Nightingale’s partner, went missing because of some “craziness in the east” at least some months before September of 2010. Did Alan write it? We don’t really know, since not much in general is known about Robert Nightingale, his partner, and his motivations; but somehow the agent was convinced that Alan is at fault for the “craziness.” We also don’t have more examples of Alan’s previous works to claim this was realised through writing. But he did somehow influence what happened with Finn and Nightingale long before Bright Falls and from outside of the Dark Place. We are not talking AW1 or AWAN level of “outside of the Dark Place,” because all the fiction (or visions) that came true in those games was created inside the Dark Place, and after Alan was already tightly connected to it…

Or was he always? Herald of Darkness, really, is such a gem. Let’s take a look at what the boys have to say about it with their “visions of what’s happening, what will happen.” We will skip through Alan’s and Door’s parts, after all, if you reading this, there is a chance you know them well enough or at least know where to find the lyrics.

On the nightmares, the Clicker and being drawn to stories:

C'mon in and listen Lost words you've been missing Of the fire you're bearing The eye of the darkness, your light […] So here is a clue Of hope to remember Visions, they come true Obeying the light switch too

It’s all about baby-Alan (according to the manuscript from the Well-Lit Room — 7 y.o.), who was still waking up in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, because he was horrified. The eye of the darkness — his light? Visions come true obeying the Clicker? By the way, we are talking about a kid who’s suffering from a rare congenital condition, that makes him overly sensitive to light. He is blinded by bright light and prone to migraines, as stated in the guide to the first game. Almost like those Taken that lived through the first game and then were suffering severe photosensitivity per “The Alan Wake Files.” This also heavily enforces that Alan’s line “even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true” can be taken literally: it is hard and complicated, with a bunch of rules, much more so than in the Dark Place, but possible in the real world: visions, they come true.

Now, allow me to digress a little, because we need to explore the Clicker very briefly. Alan described it to Alice as a source of a magic light, that can make nightmares go away; in the first game it was a source of a magic light and a key; in the second game it became an amp as well. With the source of a magic light, everything is pretty simple: Linda Wake, Alan’s mother, convinced him about that, using his father as an argument — everything of his father’s took on mythical proportions in Alan’s mind. We see this magic light thrice: when Alan clicks the night away in the Well-Lit Room:

When he summons the Bright Presence in the apartment, and when he “fills [the Dark Presence’s] heart with light”:

Yup, Alan’s first OoP, that he created is a glorified flashlight.

The Clicker as the key was established by the boys of OGoA in The Poet and the Muse:

And now to see your love set free You will need the witch's cabin key Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night That's how you reshape destiny

And Alan did use it as a key in a way: he took the Clicker out before jumping into the lake. Considering how the first game was stressing the “key” quality of the Clicker, an argument might be made, that without it in hand, Alan would just crash onto the waters below, and only the possession of the “key” allowed him to enter the Dark Place instead of expiring. In the second game, the Clicker suddenly became an amp; who exactly decided on this quality we don’t really know, I would bet on Scratch (Alan will follow any belief Scratch has, since he himself doesn’t remember the truth anyways), but Alan agrees and the boys, too. Funnily, one might say it was used as a key more in the second game than it was in the first: Scratch opened an overlap with it, letting the Dark Place to seep into our world, then it was used to close the overlap with the new ending of Return (not to mention what had happened on the shore of Cauldron Lake). Why do we need to know all this? Because, no matter if the Clicker, aside from being a glorified torch, is a key or an amp, little baby-Alan, seven years old, was either closing and opening his connection to the Dark Place, the source of his nightmares (as the AW1 episode one “Nightmare” shows), and a powerful reality-bending dimension; or through the amp quality of the Clicker could make the visions come true.

So, the boys in this part of the song spelled it for us: Alan was at least connected to the powers of the Dark Place and his light was the eye of the darkness.

Moving on. On getting famous and fame’s impact:

The story's the end-all A piece of true fiction Made meaningless in The face of creation […] Fighting the nightmares Torch and a light switch A gift or a curse A reality made of dreams

The story, as far as I understand now, is the last Alex Casey novel, I might be wrong, so we will skip it — there are other ways to look at those words. But “fighting the nightmares with a torch and a light switch” and “reality made of dreams”… well, that sounds an awful lot like Alan’s already in the story! And the torch here is a metaphor or a flashlight? Actually, both will do. The reality is already made of dreams; and it’s not only about Alan’s dreams coming true in the most cheerful and nicest meaning.

But in the last part there is much more.

He could write a new story Like Tom Zane before him And maybe they'd be happy once again

Tom Zane, as we know from This House of Dreams, wrote a story for him and Barbara to have a private island in the Dark Place, where they can live their happy-ever-after. The problem here is: we are not yet at the point in the song when Alice will be kidnapped, it’s still what could be instead of the whole ordeal with the Dark Presence. One might interpret it as “if Alan would just write a new book, they won’t be in need of a vacation in a place with a shrink,” but Tom’s name is there. And the only story, to our knowledge, that influenced the happiness of Tom’s and Barbara’s was the Last Poem, that was no mere poem, but a story that shaped the Dark Place. Which, again, points out that Alan could make fiction come true before Bright Falls by just writing away all his and marriage’s problems.

Still he's the torch bearer And it couldn't be much clearer A war needs its warrior, true and right But the darkness within him Held her hostage Had he seen her drowning Would have saved her from the darkness of the lake

Alright, here we have a very confusing part. Alan’s torchbearer and a warrior true and right, okay, that’s fair. The problem is — he’s also the darkness, that holds Alice hostage, the very darkness he’s supposed to fight against. And, by the way, “had he seen her drowning”? I’ll get back to this.

To finish with Herald of Darkness, let’s just remember that the song with this name is about Alan. He’s a Champion of Light as much as he’s the Herald of Darkness, especially now, when Mr. Scratch, the only entity that was not in its core Alan himself, is gone and cannot fill those shoes.

To summarise everything that was established: the Dark Place knows nothing about time, Alan has been connected to the Dark Place since he was born, and he is both the light and the darkness.

What do the other characters have to say about this? Mr. Door points out that all the rules Alan follows are self-imposed and that he doesn’t know who’s under his mask, before politely asking to play his part in Door’s business or stay out of his way. Ahti says about that “fearing the master is the root of wisdom,” and it’s not really clear who’s the master there, since after that Ahti comforts Alan by saying that Mr. Door is just playing his role and, if something, Alan can just shove him into a film, as it was done with Ahti himself. Here, I guess, will be a great time to remind, that the Dark Place is in Ahti’s bucket:

And that the quest to find the Master of Many Worlds, always leads to Alan. I’d say the roles are: Door is the wise one.

Dr. Darling in his research of the Dark Place concluded that it is a dreamscape and the dreamer has a voice, weirdly similar to his own.

I don’t really know where I should put Noir-Casey, since he’s Alan’s figment of imagination as Barry was in the AW1 DLCs, yet he’s a character with enough agency to be considered, so I will slap him in between. After Alan shoots him, Noir-Casey has an internal monologue, that ends with:

“I was the dark place, the source of it all, the vessel. Me and the writer, we were the same.”

In different circumstances, I wouldn’t take those words at face value, but here they mean exactly what they say: it’s not a metaphor, it’s the truth. There are many truths like that sprinkled throughout the game — so blatantly, it’s hard to take them seriously.

Finally, Alan himself has something to say about this. Well, aside from proclaiming himself the Master of Many Worlds in the end of the Final Draft.

“If time is not a straight line, then there are loops beyond loops; these loops vast complex superstructures beyond what’s happening to me now ahead of me, and I’m there as well, a version of me, something I have become some elevated, enlightened version, an archon, a demiurge, a demon of some sort playing a secret game, building something his past self, a pawn to get him there, a deus ex machina pushing me there.”

He’s not wrong, we know that there is a deus-ex-machina-Alan, that calls on the phone, and there is an elevated version of him, that told the boys of OGoA that something is coming. Alice as well said, that there is only one way out of the loop: ascension or destruction. We saw both, but ended on the ascension.

Given that the most powerful entity established as of now, Ahti, is not only in Alan’s film, but also had a breakdown because of the story, we can estimate Alan’s ability to influence both (many) worlds. ‘Tis tremendous.

With this knowledge let’s look at the games with a thought that Alan is indeed the Dark Place, the vessel, the source of it all.

Tom Zane was written by Alan or Alan assumed the role of Tom for some time, placing Alice as Barbara. “Had he seen her drowning” is not only about Alice, it’s about Barbara as well. By the information we have, before the Dark Presence, they were very similar: both (blond) sweet, nice ladies, both muses to their respective writers, both drowned (even if Alan twisted it to Alice being held as a hostage), both were written back (success differs). Given that the story is a spiral and loops could be endless with different events, this moment from the video for “War” by Poets of the Fall can easily be a hint from yet another loop:

There are supporting lines in the game, where Alice’s voice says Barbara’s words and Alan’s — Tom’s. And the photos from This House of Dreams, that states that this lady is the poet’s girlfriend that drowned.

And this lady does look more like Alice than like Barbara, as we know her from the games.

In the Herald of Darkness furthermore the line “had he seen her drowning” is curious not because of the “seen” part, clairvoyance and all, we know, but because of “drowning” (Alice is dead theory might happen™). Alice had drowned per Herald of Darkness; even the first game calls it into question, as does the board in QB:

Let me sprinkle more things, I believe, can tie this up.

The Dark Place itself is something Alan created for Alice, to save her, it’s tightly connected to her and the tragedy that happened, hence it’s wet and it’s dark. He wanted her to not only return to him, but also not be far from her comfort-nightmare-zone (because he wouldn’t believe that death is a bright and nice cheerful place; if he would even allow himself to believe it, he might’ve lost the ability to drag her back from there). The Dark Place is an ocean, a lake, a body of water because Alice drowned. It is also awfully similar to the dark room every photographer uses. It makes art “real” — develops film into physical pictures, and to make those physical pictures one must find a correct way to do so. Just like Alan loops, searching for exact steps to make the story work, what solution to use when and for how long.

The Bright Falls is Night Springs and was created by Alan to spin this tale of “Alice is held hostage by supernatural darkness” in a spooky town with questionable history and a haunted lake instead of her drowning. Was there a town before Alan started to search for the way to save his wife? Who knows! But if there was, it was surely quite different. This is the tabletop game “Night Springs”:

This is the overview of Bright Falls. Find 5 differences.

Yes, Sarah does say that there is a joke that Night Springs was inspired by Bright Falls, but not to this extent, otherwise she would surely point it out (they even stole our map!). For Alan, though, it’s only natural to use Night Springs to make a town where all those supernatural things can take place; he needed a playground, and when he needs one, as AWAN and NS DLC show, he turns to Night Springs.

And lastly, I wrote that much about the relationship between the Dark Place and time not only to hint that the story could be written starting from any date (who else won’t be surprised if in the future games we will see Alan writing the very creation of Cauldron Lake?), but also to highlight one important thing. The only character, who can manipulate time that drastically is Alan. He’s the one to create loops, he’s the one to make Mr. Scratch “send him back in time” instead of killing him, he’s the one to stall the world for Return to play out again and again, and he’s the one who dies only to be back at the safe spot in the story to adjust things. Not only his cutscenes with touching the forehead point on him dying and looping back, even the casual death during the playthrough shows him dead on the floor, not the message that this is not how the story goes. Story for Alan allows his death, and every time a player is killed, we have yet another dead Alan (F for all the Alans we lost along the way).

With all this said, we have an immortal being, that cannot be killed, can split himself into multiple other beings, can change reality in a way that anything, no matter how far into the past (or the future) it happened, will become the new truth, who shaped the primordial ocean after his wife’s tragic passing, turning it or a part of it into the Dark Place, kept dreaming the surroundings to fit his needs, and is considered the Master of Many Worlds. I think Ahti’s Sankarin Tango sums it up nicely, so I will leave you with it.

Once, he mistook an ocean for a lake, he told us in a poem In the depths of that mystery he spent his whole life Under a dark ocean, in the shadows he wanders Searching for a way back into the light to his loved one Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again Time breaks into eternity, a gunshot echoes There’s never a happy end for him This story has been told many times before The hero has a thousand faces and a hopeless path Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again

#rcu theory #alan wake #alan wake 2 #alan wake game #alan wake ii #remedy connected universe #alan wake's american nightmare #awan #night springs #remedy games #remedyverse #remedy entertainment

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tenderhungering · 7 months ago

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howdy howdy!!! do u have any thoughts on jack’s background? I think it’s really interesting the few tidbits we have (Illinois Boy™️, the Oh Calcutta story, getting his start in radio) + in the case of those first two its like. clearly been told time and time again for an audience. or if you’d prefer something else any thoughts on minnie 🙏😭 haunting the narrative icon

hello hello ! i so wish we’d gotten a little bit more about him but i’ve always imagined jack as being a little more introverted in his younger years? i think he really enjoys validation and this is such a difficult thing to achieve as someone as slightly awkward as jack. (don’t know why. maybe i just enjoy pathetic men but his blushing at naked bodies and his little “oh! not my chair!” has always made me feel like he has had to build up this persona he has made for himself) charming and quick-witted but very easily crumbles whenever he’s in an uncomfortable position (he seems to almost dissociate often?)

i think he might’ve been in some sort of college radio and broadcast (i’ve discussed this with a friend before!), and he was just so happy to build an audience. there’s no mention of his parents (my memory is foggy!) so part of me thinks that they’re either not in the picture or he’s lost them? so you know,,, mommy and daddy issues galore despite either one. maybe even one of them didn’t think being someone on television would maintain a steady flow of income. regardless, it might make him more interested in gaining that connection with the audience, getting validated for his feelings. getting praise for it. no you’re so cool please continue to make your show! i’m such a big fan!

he doesn’t know who is there for him as Mr. Midnight and who is there for him Jack Delroy so he blurs the line and vents to his audience, looks at the camera with every intention to impress.

i imagine meeting minnie was very sweet though. they were both sort of up and coming and it’s nice to have someone who understands that struggle! i imagine minnie being in theatre makes her the more extroverted out of the two ! (she was the one sharing stories and jack getting shy about them!), but also a lot more open about her emotions. jack seems like someone who keeps to himself and doesn’t quite understand how to communicate well (he does hide a lot from others when they ask what’s going on. might just be that 70s toxic masculinity upbringing that makes him unable to express these,, daddy issues? who knows!)

i do fully believe he loved her though! younger jack probably never dreamed of finding a girl like minnie. maybe a bit of idealization for her occurred earlier on but minnie was so fresh and bright and full of life even during her time spent ill that i always thought she just good humor and a knack for just being naturally talented at the arts.

which is a big difference between the two! minnie just had that spark of life, she was always going to end up being someone big, she knew how to capture a room. jack was awkward and had to find his voice, he had to learn what people liked, what good jokes landed and how to deliver them, he had to work hard (and i don’t mean this as minnie not working hard! jack just had to work to become this persona while minnie was able to become her characters almost immediately, she’s able to understand their emotions and feel for them immediately. i think it makes her a much more empathetic person while jack is a lot more sympathetic. jack needs to be verbally told what people are feeling which might be why ratings are so comforting. they’re either good or bad! they’re easy to read.) and become who we know as Mr. Midnight. something of an artist obsessed with not their craft but what their craft will mean to others

sorry if this wasn’t exactly background stuff pfft! i more so focused on how their personalities were! i do think that minnie was possibly in dance, and has that ability to be able to play a song after she hears it on time on the piano. i think she has to teach jack how to pick up on it though, he’s sort of stumbling and his keys are sour baha. he probably used to stay up late studying little mannerisms talk shows had. i think he has a natural charm to him but that charm is a lot more meek than what we see? i love them both dearly,,,

#david dastmalchian #jack delroy #late night with the devil #lnwtd #anon ask #minnie delroy #madeleine delroy #are they looking for a third?#pls send your own headcannons omg #that would be so fun actually #also i feel like im clogging up the late night with the devil tags omg i do NOT shut up !

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nilusanimationworld · 2 years ago

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Since we're close now to get KFP4 updates soon...hoping next month (or april) I wanna talk/discuss about something(s)

So I was re-watching all the 3 movies & the shorts I actually realized & noticed couple of things

Since we all know Oogway in the third movie tells Po about how he saw the future of Kung Fu the day they met right? And we see both Po & Tigress in his vision right?

Followed by Oogway passing the torch (which is the staff in this case) saying Po is his true successor

Firstly let me start of by saying I love Po okay? Besides being Oogway's successor Po is definitely Shifu's golden student by achieving the Dragon Warrior title and all BUT here's the big question. Does Po also deserve to become Shifu's successor? Yes BUT ALSO NO! Po has got enough titles & credits at this point. Besides Po there is also one more character that deserves at least one title & that is none other than TIGRESS!!!

TIGRESS (DESERVES) SHOULD BECOME SHIFU'S TRUE SUCCESSOR!!

Before anyone decides to attack me let me just point out couple of hints given in the movies itself why Tigress should have Shifu's true successor title

Shawls & Clothing pattern.

Remember the whole drama & discussion we all had & still having about Tigress outfit suddenly being changed? I think I might've figured that reason out too. Both Oogway & Shifu have a similar green shawls right? Which for some strange reason I always thought it was the same shawl just passed down to Shifu after Oogway's death. But turns out both have very different pattern design at the back of their shawls

And SURPRISE BEHOLD it actually matches Po & Tigress. Oogway has almost a Yin Yang pattern which is Po who represents Black & White warrior which Oogway himself tells Po that he represents both sides of yin & yang.

As for Shifu & Tigress's case its the floral & vine patterns. What does the floral & vine pattern has connection to do with Tigress? Well if you watch all the movies including the the shorts her vine patterns actually are representing 'growth'

You'll notice carefully you see no patterns on her vest when she was a kid PLUS also on the brown robe which she used to wear as a teen which also closely represents Shifu's way of dressing since Tigress was desperate to become just like Shifu

But once she finally decides to unleash her real true strength after ripping the robe you finally spot a sapling like pattern on her vest indicating & representing she's finally growing & is out of her shell which later one as she grows older you notice her vine patterns also keep growing & finally her golden hanfu also has a little Lilly/Lotus pattern fully bloomed representing Tigress is a fully grown warrior of her own. Plus the whole growth theme fits very well for both Shifu & Tigress since both have come out from their cold shells & are showing more warmer & compassion sides

Po & Tigress are literally the next Oogway & Shifu

Even their relationships!!

Despite Shifu & Tigress both question Oogway’s & Po’s decisions or plans they still remain extremely loyal & trust their masters.

Heck! Not to mention BOTH Shifu & Tigress has watched Oogway & Po (sorta) dying into petals!!

Shifu passing the staff to Tigress

Okay let’s just say GOD FORBID Shifu’s time comes to end there’s 70% chances Tigress could get his staff since Po has already got Oogway’s special yin yang one. Plus it would actually mean a lot for Tigress & something really special to cherish. Not only it would mean Tigress being the next master of the Jade Palace but also a way of Shifu finally able to express his feelings to Tigress as a father since both Shifu & Tigress aren’t too good in expressing in openly about it.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DREAMWORKS GIVE US ONE GOOD HEART WARMING FATHER-DAUGHTER MOMENT BETWEEN SHIFU & TIGRESS! PLEASE I BEG YOU!!

Plus if you watch the third movie Shifu actually looks completely shocked not expecting Po to get gand looking staff from Oogway. There could be chances that Shifu may have thought of passing his current staff to Po but after seeing the staff given by Oogway himself to Po Shifu might change his mind to give to Tigress? Or at least I’m hoping!!

Also Fun fact the original storyline for KFP3 besides Mr. Ping & Li Shan fighting over Po whether he should become a noodle master & run his goose dad’s restaurant or choosing becoming a farmer & returning back to secret panda village with his biological dad. Shifu was also included in the fatherly fight as he wanted Po to be the next master to run the Jade Palace but the idea was completely scraped off! So fingers crossed Tigress is in the line on getting to be master to run the Jade Palace since Po already has enough titles & responsibilities to handle as Dragon Warrior & a Teacher

And lastly Po & Tigress both have grown as warriors under Shifu’s training & Oogway’s wisdom. They’re both are perfect balance

In conclusion! There is still hope for Tigress to also play a very important role in the franchise & I am PRAYING EVERYDAY KFP4 does justice to the franchise!!

Anyways what are your thoughts? Feel free to discuss y’all! I really missed the whole pandom discussions!! :)

#kung fu panda #kung fu panda 2 #kung fu panda 3 #kfp #kfp2 #kfp3 #dreamworks #po #master tigress #master shifu #master oogway #po and tigress #pandom #WHEW #THIS IS LONG ASS POST #SO MUCH TYPING #YIKES!!#I'V NEVER DONE SO MUCH OF TYPING IN ONE POST #dragon warrior

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oliviaischillin1204 · 1 year ago

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wake up call

Pairing: Romantic Analogince (Roman/Virgil/Logan)

Word Count: 1,476 Words

roman is lee in like 70% of the fics i have drafted rn. i just want to Wreck him

"Is he seriously still asleep?"

Virgil's voice came from the direction of Roman's bedroom door. He couldn't look at him to check, but he could imagine the fondly exasperated look on Virgil's face as he watched Roman 'sleep'. He was lying on his stomach, his face shoved into a pillow, and even with his eyes innocently closed he could tell how bright it was in his bedroom. He was supposed to get up hours ago, yet here he was.

"I've knocked on his door three times, and nothing," Logan added. He must've joined Virgil in Roman's doorway; Roman felt his heart flutter a bit at the idea that his partners were both watching him sleep.

It was silent for a few long seconds. Roman thought they might've left again, until Virgil spoke.

"Well, you know he needs the sleep," he said, voice strangely measured. "He was up late last night, and we had a lot of work to do yesterday... and plus you tickled him for like an hour before he fell asleep."

Roman inhaled so quickly he nearly choked. Oh. Oh, fuck.

"Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten about that," Logan continued. "Only because we do it so frequently, it's practically routine to tickle Roman to sleep every night."

Oh, fuck both of them. Roman absolutely was going to make them pay for this stunt later-- if he could get through this without blowing his cover.

"Yeah, he's pretty loud when he gets tickled," Virgil said. "I was in the kitchen with Patton and we both heard it. Kinda... squeal-y, and shriek-y."

"Ah, that must have been when he said he could keep his arms up for five minutes straight. I told him we could stick to gentler tickles to help him wind down, but you know how he is."

They both laughed lowly, and Roman could feel his face getting hot. It's one thing for the two of them to talk about him like he's not even there-- it's even worse when he can't even try to fight back in some way without ruining his plan.

"What was that one thing he does? When he drops his arms almost all the way down again 'cause it tickles too much, but then he just sorta folds his elbows over his face, like he's trying to hide? It's pretty freaking funny."

"Especially since it blocks his vision and prevents him front anticipating the other hand moving toward his torso. We had a lot of fun with that last night-- I believe I found a new freckle, above his right hip, that seemed to be quite sensitive to spider tickles."

Virgil snorted. "Oh, yeah? I'll have to remember that for later... poor little Princey. He has no idea what he's in for as soon as he wakes up."

No, no, no teasing. The butterflies fluttering around his stomach were already bad enough.

"Roman..." Logan's voice was nearly a coo, and Roman fought the urge to shiver as he suddenly realized his partner must be standing right by his bed. "I do hope you're not pretending to be asleep when we've asked you so politely to get up."

He felt the logical side move to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. He considered throwing in a fake snore, but decided that would be too much.

Especially when, all of sudden, he felt Logan's hand running through his hair. And then he felt Logan's nails running through his hair.

It took every single thing in Roman not to squirm then and there and ruin the whole game.

"We miss you," Logan said softly, and really that wasn't even fair, because if they're planning what Roman knows they're planning, then he was purposefully trying to be romantic and gentle in that way that made Roman's heart flutter in his chest. Stupid smart boyfriends and their stupid observation skills.

Another dip on his other side told him Virgil had joined him on the bed; he forced himself to stay still when he felt a warm hand rub up and down his back. "We have literally nothing to do today. Give it up to Janus on finally booking in that self-care day. And if we do end up doing any work, then everyone is gonna get to see the genius ideas you came up with yesterday. You did good, Princey."

Bastards, bastards, bastards. Roman's tummy would be full of butterflies just from the compliments and validation alone. Pairing it with the gentlest of tickles was overkill.

He could just give in. Roll over, get good morning kisses from his two favorite people in the whole world, and return the love they've showered onto him tenfold. But no one ever accused Roman of giving up from a fight, so his eyes stayed closed and his breathing stayed measured.

At least, until Virgil suddenly curved his fingers so his nails were the ones running up and down Roman's back. He kept his hand right along the spine, which wasn't so bad for Roman, but with every motion he let his fingers creep closer, closer, closer to the backs of Roman's ribs. Those horrible, wonderful tickle spots that Roman was utterly incapable of ignoring. He felt himself begin to tremble, and he wondered if Virgil could feel it, too.

Logan hummed, and suddenly his hand had moved, too, to gently brush and wiggle against Roman's ear. He softly scratched below the lobe, where Roman's ear met his jawline.

It took everything in Roman not to smile, not to scrunch his neck up, not to laugh. He ached to laugh, to wiggle and kick his legs and squirm away from his lovers' hands... and maybe even to be held so tightly, wrapped up in someone's arms, while the other let their hands trail all over his body in retaliation for sleeping late. Or each of his partners could grab one wrist, keeping him so vulnerable between them as they take turns inspecting each one of his tickle spots. Maybe-

"Alright, enough of this," Virgil said, before shoving both arms under Roman's chest and flipping him over onto his back like a pancake. "Time to wake up."

Roman had approximately 0.1 seconds to take a deep breath before both Logan and Virgil dived in with reckless abandon. Gone were the gentle, soft, nearly soothing tickles they'd began with; now Logan was leaning over to dig his thumbs into Roman's underarms while Virgil vibrated his hands all over Roman's soft stomach.

Immediately Roman screamed, eyes shooting open and limbs desperately trying to coordinate some way to defend himself, but his barely-awake brain coupled with the devious double attack left him beyond delirious and without any way to save himself. Virgil leaned down, letting his own morning stubble graze Roman's side while he massaged his tummy, and Logan dropped himself down to murmurs soft coos into Roman's ear that he couldn't even comprehend over how much his warm breath set his ear and neck alight with tingles.

"Nahaha- wahaha- wait!" he gasped. The tickles slowed, but his partners didn't pull away.

"Wakey wakey," Virgil purred, leaning down to leave slow, soft kisses against Roman's midsection. Roman's legs kicked weakly.

"Not fair," he whined. His ear seemed to vibrate with the sound of Logan's low laughter, before he, too, was peppering the spot with gentle kisses. Roman snorted; he couldn't decide which way to move his head (towards the kisses or away from the tickles?). Luckily, Logan made the decision for him, pressing his mouth even closer to Roman's ear so he couldn't scrunch his neck.

"It's time to get up, darling."

Each syllable sent breath against Roman's ear and shivers run up and down his spine. It was horrible, absolutely horrible- Roman could do nothing but squeal and buck against the bed, where Virgil's own kisses and wandering hands were still attacking his tummy.

"Plehehease..." he begged. His smile nearly ached, but he couldn't feel anything other than the soft warmth that came from being adored by his partners. Blissfully, his partners seemed to listen: Logan pecked his kisses down until he was merely kissing Roman's shoulder through his shirt, and Virgil folded his hands and rested his chin on them as he smirked up at his bedraggled boyfriend.

"That was," Roman continued through catching his breath, "utterly uncalled for."

"We warned you, dude," Virgil shot back. "You could've gotten up at any time."

"I was asleep!"

Virgil snorted. "Uh huh."

"I was!"

"Whatever you say, dear," Logan murmured. Roman opened his mouth to continue arguing, but suddenly Logan was once again running his nails through Roman's hair, and any word of complaint disappeared as he moaned.

Virgil propped himself up further, and even in his blissed-out state Roman could make out the softness in his gaze.

"You know what? I think you should sleep in every day."

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #lee!roman #ler!virgil #ler!logan #drafted on december 27 2021 #wake up call

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dailyniallnews · 9 months ago

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Niall Horan | Live at Wembley Arena, London

Six long years after his last tour, Niall Horan returns with The Show: Live on Tour and what a spectacle it is.

When Niall Horan released his debut single “This Town” in 2016, fans and critics alike praised his nuanced storytelling and ability to capture his audience with just a strum of a guitar and a gentle croon. Almost a decade since that release, Horan’s artistry hasn’t faltered — he’s gone from strength to strength, crafting a body of work that is both nostalgic and timeless. Now, with his The Show: Live on Tour, named after his acclaimed 2023 album, he’s reminding all of us just how much he is a showman at heart.

Horan played to a completely packed Wembley Arena last week with many camping out hours to secure a spot on the floor. It’s the same feverish, infectious energy that first began over 14 years ago which, much to Horan’s dismay, hasn’t waned at all. Although it’s difficult to untether Horan from his days in One Direction, he spends moments of the show reflecting on the “14 years of memories” he created in and around the arena and London. The Show: Live on Tour began in Belfast a few weeks back. The first show, he ended it with the words, “This is going to be the best year yet.” Just a handful of days later, he is clearly still revelling in the feeling of being back on stage.

Like the ’70s greats before him, Horan is meant to be heard live. Horan thrives and excels when he’s performing and is a true artist’s artist — not just writing songs, but crafting entire worlds around them. “Nice To Meet Ya” might’ve been an obvious choice for an opening song, but with the context that Horan hasn’t toured since 2018 and wasn’t able to perform his incredible sophomore album, Heartbreak Weather, to audiences due to the pandemic. If the album The Show orbits around who Horan is today as a person, a musician, and a songwriter, the tour is, in a way, serving as a reintroduction to who he is as a performer.

The Show: Live on Tour production sees his six-piece band stand atop varying stages, a nod to the old-school variety show performances. Curtains fall and fold together with images projected — sometimes it’s a billboard that reads THE SHOW, other times it’s a moon soaring through the night sky. It’s the little nods to the world of The Show that make it a spectacle.

When a mirrorball drops — a sign that means Horan is about to play a song from his boyband days — fans erupt into screams. Quickly after, the chords of “Stockholm Syndrome” begin to play and new and old fans alike come together to sing. Horan lets us into his mind for a moment, affectionately saying, “I do this for a living,” which he was reflecting upon during the show.

Horan has a knack for making a 12,000+ arena feel as intimate as a 200-cap venue, using songs like “This Town,” “Flicker,” and the delicate ballad “You Could Start a Cult,” a clear fan favourite, to showcase that further. Every quiet, sombre moment is completely contrasted with a stadium-sized roar from fans responding to Horan’s every childlike smirk and high note. Bringing out Canadian singer/songwriter Shawn Mendes for a duet of his hit “Treat You Better,” and one of his first live performances in years, speaks to Horan’s love towards his fellow singer/songwriters.

Teetering between the hits — think “Slow Hands,” “Meltdown” and “Heartbreak Weather” — and the fan faves like “Everywhere,” “Save My Life” and “Mirrors,” Horan keeps the energy high throughout the entire show — a feat for solo acts. Although the setlist was constructed to have a bit of everything, when scrolling Twitter after the gig I read a tweet which talks about how he made the setlist for die-hard fans. It’s true — it’s a collection of songs that demonstrate his growth and grit as an artist, but also were clearly selected with his fans at the forefront of his mind.

As the show comes to a close, Horan’s penultimate song is “Save My Life.” Horan knows the true meaning it holds, but for fans, it speaks to the beauty of a fan and artist relationship and how the latter’s music shapes the former’s lives. Throughout the show, seeing fans holding up fan projects and crying to various songs is a moving thing for Horan to witness. 14 years on and he’s still in awe of the magic he’s been able to make through his work.

For fans who have yet to see Horan live on this tour, he describes it best in The Show‘s title track: Hold tight, get ready for the ride.

Words Kelsey Barnes

#niall horan #tslot #tslot london wembley #article #9mar24

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lemoncrushh · 8 months ago

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The Entertainer - Track 09 - Make Some Beautiful Music

Summary: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar.

STORY PAGE

Track 09 Word Count: 3.1k+

“So…Harry…” I began as we ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant, “if I’m allowed to ask…what ever happened with Pippa?”

“Um…” Harry swallowed, “she went back to London.”

“Well, I kinda figured as much. But how did she take it? Simon’s death, I mean.”

Holding his fork in his hand, Harry stared out at nothing for a moment. Then with a shrug, he lifted his glass of water and took a sip.

“She flew back home first. Simon’s body was sent home of course, and the rest of us followed. I called her to let her know the arrangements for the funeral, but she didn’t show. I reckon she might’ve needed some time alone to grieve, but I was so messed up in my own head that I didn’t pay much attention to anyone or anything else.”

“Understandable.”

Harry bowed his head then, dropping his fork on his plate.

“That’s a lie,” he mumbled. “I was ashamed. But I was also angry.”

“At who? Pippa?”

“She didn’t even come to his funeral, Sky! First she’d told me she had feelings for me, then she bolted across the ocean as soon as she got word he’d died. Then she cried to me on the phone about how much she missed him, but then she didn’t even come to pay her respects and say goodbye. Who the fuck does that?”

“Maybe she was ashamed too.”

Harry was quiet for a minute as he stared at his uneaten food.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up again. I was just curious.”

“She came to see me,” Harry spoke softly. “I’d been thinking of coming back to L.A., but Lee and Deacon weren’t on board just yet. They didn’t even know if they wanted to keep going with the band or not. But I needed to get out of London.”

I sat quietly, fingering my cloth napkin, waiting patiently for Harry to continue.

“I had my bags packed. I was leaving the next morning. I’m not sure how she knew, but she did. I suspect she had talked to Deacon or Lee, or word got out somehow. She said she just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Hmm. Like she didn’t say to Simon?” I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “that’s exactly what I said. I practically yelled at her. I couldn’t believe she had some nerve.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said…she said she regretted it. Not going to Simon’s funeral. But that she realized she didn’t regret telling me how she felt about me. And that I was talented and I should go live out my dream.”

“Well, that last part’s true.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry let it out slowly, his shoulders falling.

“I guess I didn’t know how much this had built up inside me until now. I’ve been so bitter, so angry, for so long.”

“Just at Pippa though?” I inquired.

“No,” he shook his head. “I think the only reason I was mad at her was that it was bad timing. And I knew how Simon felt about her. But you’re right, it wasn’t just her who was ashamed.”

“Like I said, Harry, it wasn’t your fault. I know you can’t just let it go all of a sudden. It takes time to heal.” I reached across the table and took his hand. “But I’m here whenever you need someone to talk to.”

Harry looked me in the eye, his mouth curving into a hesitant smile.

“Thanks.”

His gaze shifting to something behind me, he grinned wider and wiggled his brows.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” he beamed.

I turned to see Mitch with his arm around my best friend.

“Morning,” he greeted low.

“It’s almost noon, but who’s counting?” giggled Halo.

Joining Harry and me at the table, they ordered a bigger breakfast than we had. I enjoyed watching Harry smile and laugh, the previous conversation forgotten, if only temporarily.

After breakfast, I followed Harry back up to his room. I could hear music as soon as we stepped off the elevator.

“Rhythm and rhyme and harmony…”

“Oh, I love this song!” I cheered. “Where’s it coming from?”

“Sounds like it’s coming from my room,” replied Harry.

We turned the corner as we clapped along to the chorus.

“Give me the beat, boys and free my soul I wanna get lost in your rock and roll And drift away…”

I stopped suddenly when I saw an open doorway, Lee standing outside it next to a food cart. Dipping his finger in something that looked like whipped cream, he brought it to his mouth just as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll see you tonight?” asked the girl in a sultry voice.

Lee turned around then, bending slightly to kiss the girl’s lips.

“You bet, babe,” he murmured before kissing her once more, making her moan and kick up her high heeled foot.

“Bye,” she waved with her fingers.

As she passed me to head for the elevators, I crossed my arms and glared at Lee.

“Oh. Hi, Sky,” he said with a smirk and a raise of a cocky brow.

“Hi, hypocrite,” I snapped.

“Excuse me?”

“I suppose this means the girls ban has been lifted.”

“Oh, sweet Sky,” Lee chuckled, popping a grape in his mouth. “Don’t act so innocent.”

“Shut up, Lee,” warned Harry.

“What, like you two didn’t break the rule?”

My jaw dropped, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. He was right. Laughing louder, Lee leaned toward us.

“I could hear ya through the fucking walls,” he chided.

I saw Harry narrow his eyes, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I grabbed his arm, though I wasn’t really sure why or what that would do.

“But ya know what?” Lee continued. “My girl moans louder.”

“You fucking asshole!”

I tightened my grip on Harry’s arm just as he leapt toward Lee and pinned him against the wall.

“What the hell?” I heard behind me and turned to see Halo and Mitch coming around the corner.

“Harry, man,” Lee sputtered. “It was a joke.”

“Say it again, motherfucker!” growled Harry, his forearm pressed against Lee’s throat.

“Harry! Let him go, man!” shouted Mitch as he tried to pry him off of Lee.

Suddenly I felt a hand grab mine, and I turned to see Halo, her eyes wide.

“What the fuck is going on?” she whispered loudly.

“I think it’s my fault,” I muttered.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Harry, I swear!” exclaimed Lee just as Mitch restrained Harry. “I thought it was funny.”

“You say any shit like that again, and you will be sorry!”

“C’mon, Harry, man, it’s not worth it,” said Mitch as Harry struggled to free himself of his grip.

“Jesus, man, I didn’t know you’d get so bent out of shape,” Lee grumbled, straightening his shirt. “You’d think you were in love with her or something.”

“Piss off.”

Lee looked over at me, then back at Harry before giving a sneer. Turning back to his room, I heard him mumble something under his breath that sounded like “I fucking knew it” before his door slammed behind him, muffling the sound of the music that continued to play inside.

The rest of us remained in the hallway in silence, no one able to speak. I stared at the carpet until I felt Halo’s hand release from mine and she spoke.

“Well, that was intense. What a buzz killer.”

My gaze lifted to meet Harry’s then, and for a moment he seemed to want to say something, but he quickly looked away.

“He’s gotta stop with that shit,” Mitch pointed at Lee’s door. “I’ll have a talk with him later after he’s cooled off.”

“You okay?” Halo asked me softly.

I nodded. Then I watched her follow Mitch to his room at the end of the hall. Harry stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression weary. Stepping closer to him, my eyes met his again.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, I did. I instigated it. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I lost it.”

“Yeah, but-“

My sentence was interrupted by his lips on mine, his arms around me. I fell into the kiss, Harry’s anger and adrenaline still apparent on his tongue. He backed me into the wall where he continued to take my breath away as my fingers raked through his hair.

“Jesus, mate, your room’s right there,” I heard a voice scoff as it went by. “Did you lose your key?”

Taking my hand, Harry lifted it, exposing my middle finger to Deacon. I giggled against his mouth as I heard his drummer mumble his own obscenities and something about a no girls rule before turning the corner.

The concert that night was possibly one of the best I’d ever seen, despite the tension between Harry and Lee. They were pretty good at covering it up and not letting it affect the show, but knowing what I did, I didn’t miss the scowls and evil eyes they exchanged between songs.

The only major disappointment was spotting the toe stomper with one of her friends at the other end of the stage from Halo and me. I noticed they were trying their best to vie for the boys’ attention, but other than a grin or two, they got nothing.

Harry stayed with me that night in my cheap motel room. I didn’t ask him to, it was his own insisting. He just said “I’m staying with you” as he grabbed his bag and urged me out the door. I suspected he didn’t want to deal with Lee again and have him mock us, but I also suspected he wasn’t going to admit that.

“I wanna ride with you back to L.A.,” he declared as we laid tangled in the sheets.

I stared at him wide-eyed. “Harry, you have a band.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “They don’t need me. We’re just going home.”

“You’re trying to avoid them.”

“No, I’m not. I just wanna be with you.”

I smiled as I touched my fingertips to his lips. “What about Halo? She rode here with me.”

“She can ride on the bus. She’d love it.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, she would.”

Taking my hand, Harry threaded his fingers through mine, then kissed the back of it.

“I might have a surprise too, but you’ll have to wait and see.”

“Uh oh, I’m not sure if I like surprises,” I teased.

“Yeah, you do,” Harry smirked before giving me a quick kiss. “Trust me.”

“The sea was red and the sky was grey Wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today…”

We drove down the freeway with the windows down, the wind blowing in our hair. The sun shone like a big yellow ball in the sky, and I didn’t think I’d ever known a more perfect day.

“You know, I used to think this song was so sad,” I commented. “He left some chick who smoked his weed and drank all his wine. And he’s going to California with an aching in his heart.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah.”

“But then I realized the end is hopeful.”

“To find a queen without a king They say she plays guitar and cries and sings…”

“La la la la,” sang Harry. “That’s you.”

“Me?” I shot him a look.

“Yeah.” Harry grinned as he gazed out the windshield at the horizon, then nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

I felt a flutter in my chest and gripped the steering wheel as Harry sat back in his seat and shut his eyes, the wind making a mess of his curls. If I hadn’t been driving, I would have taken a picture as it was the most beautiful image I’d ever seen.

When my Led Zeppelin 8-track finished, I took it out and we listened to the radio, commenting on the songs like we had that day driving from Chula Vista. When Wildfire’s new single began to play, we both stared at each other for a few seconds before I turned it up and we sang along loudly. We were in the middle of singing along to a Badfinger song when I was about to take my exit.

“Keep going,” directed Harry.

“Why?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked over at him. The raise of his brows gave me his reply.

“Are we…the pawn shop?”

Harry beamed as bright as the sun and I heard myself squeal.

“Harry, you’re buying the guitar?”

I was already past my exit when he sat back again, his hands behind his head.

“No matter where you go There would always be a place Can’t you see it in my face, girl Ooh girl, want you”

“Yeah, I do love surprises,” I admitted with a giggle.

The crotchety old man was sitting behind the counter just like before, a scowl on his face. My hand in Harry’s, he pulled me toward the back of the store.

“Is it still here?” I mostly asked the man.

“Of course it is,” he commented. “Because none of you hippies can afford it.”

“That’s what he thinks,” I murmured against Harry’s back as we made our way to the display of guitars.

I watched as he grabbed the Martin and sat down to pluck the strings. I smiled as he began to play “Meet Me In The Hallway” just as he had that day in my bedroom. It was like a full-circle moment. Everything Harry had ever done had led up to this. I clapped when he finished, feeling completely overwhelmed with pride.

“It’s yours now, baby,” I said.

His cheeks dipped with his dimples, not missing my term of endearment.

“Not just yet, I have to pay for it first.”

The old man’s eyes about popped out of his head when we reached the counter, the guitar in Harry’s hand.

“I believe it’s time to make a purchase.”

“You’re buying it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Carefully laying the guitar on the counter, Harry dug out his wallet and placed several crisp bills next to it.

“Uh…this…this actually comes with a case, young man.”

The old guy looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him as he turned and rummaged through the area around him and came up with a black guitar case. Laying it open on the counter, he took the Martin and placed it inside, snapping it shut.

“Here you go,” he nodded. “Go make some beautiful music, for your beautiful girl.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded back. “I most certainly will.”

I caught the tiny, almost nonexistent curve of the old man’s lips and possibly a bit of wetness in his eyes as Harry opened the door for me, and we walked out of the pawn shop together.

I laid on my bed watching Harry strum his guitar. He sang a handful of songs, some of his own and some others. With each phrase I felt my stomach flip. I watched him in awe, and although I knew him personally, I suddenly felt starstruck - like it wasn’t really him who was sitting in my room.

“Strumming my pain with his fingers Singing my life with his words…”

I was reminded of the Roberta Flack tune, and I began to sing it in my head. Either I must have been humming it, or I had a strange look on my face because Harry stopped playing and gave me a grin.

“What’s on your mind?” he inquired, setting the guitar down.

I propped myself up on my elbow and blushed.

“Do I look like something’s on my mind?”

“Definitely.”

“I was just wondering…” I meandered, my finger tracing the pattern on my bedspread.

“Wondering what?” Harry laid down beside me and kicked off his boots.

I looked into his eyes as I tried to gather my thoughts.

“I know you’re not in it for the fame or the money,” I began. “But…what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

I shrugged. “Hearing your song on the radio. Getting a gold record. Playing in front of a sea of people screaming for you. Getting booked for a tour opening for the Eagles. Staying at four and five star hotels.”

“It was one hotel, and you stayed there too,” Harry poked.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well…” he paused, scooting closer to me on the bed. “It feels really good. The hearing my song on the radio part, and playing in front of people. Getting a gold record, too. But the rest of it? I’m not gonna say I hate it…it’s just…bonus, you know?”

“Yeah. But all that bonus…you’re gonna get a lot more. You’re a rockstar now.”

“Hmm.”

“What? You don’t think you are?”

Harry shifted again on the bed, grabbing my pillow and laying on it.

“I’m an entertainer,” he finally said. “What I do isn’t about being a star. I mean, I like it. I like wherever this is headed for me…for the band. But I also know it could fade just as fast. And whatever…legacy…I leave behind…I want it to be something I’m proud of. That when people hear my name, it’s not just because I was famous. I want people to remember that I did something good. That my name was credited on a great song that lives forever.”

I blinked rapidly, my eyes unable to hold back the tears that suddenly sprang from my eyes. Harry noticed, even though I hadn’t wanted him to.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he swiped a tear with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s okay. Just…hearing you talk about music gets to me.”

“You get to me.”

I shut my eyes, his words floating in the air for a moment like a balloon. I almost wondered if I’d mistaken them until he spoke again.

“It’s gonna be so hard to say goodbye.”

I knew what he was referring to. It was an unspoken understanding we had. He would be leaving for another tour soon, this one much further away from home. The band had a couple more shows in L.A. and then in two weeks, they were leaving for the Eagles tour, starting in Cleveland, heading further east and then finally flying overseas to Europe. Although I had refused to think about it, I knew there was a possibility I’d never see him again.

“Harry…” I breathed with a hitch.

“Shh…” he cooed, wiping another tear and kissing my forehead. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“But we will have to,” I whined, “sooner or later.”

“Later.”

He kissed me passionately then, making me momentarily forget about our inevitable separation. Then he made love to me slowly, calling me by my real name.

Who's crying? Not me. *sniff*

Songs mentioned:

Dobie Gray - Drift Away

Led Zeppelin - Going to California

Badfinger - No Matter What

Roberta Flack - Killing Me Softly with His Song

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lichtecht · 3 months ago

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What are your thoughts about girl dfk justraucher? I'm trying to think of what their past might have looked like but I'm kind of coming up blank. Did they still take part in the war in some way? Would the Nichtraucher have still had a child? Would Dr Bökh have felt the pressure to also get married? I wonder if their dynamic would be changed by the fact that Judith is now also kind of a social misfit (? how do i say that in english. she's a különc) as a single woman in her 30s with a career in academia. In canon I feel like Johann is seen as a perfectly respectable person while Robert is kind of the odd one who rejected his cozy socially acceptable way of life and ran away to do something entirely different. I mean I guess Barbara-the-single-woman-chainsmoker-living-alone-in-a-train-wagon and Judith-the-single-woman-boarding-school-supervisor-slash-geography-teacher are still not on the same level of socially unacceptable but. where was going with this actually

YEAH you are so right

it’s way more socially acceptable for a man to be unmarried and work as a teacher (even if he ideally should have a wife and kids and all that jazz) than it is for a woman. and especially considering johann/judith doesn’t seem to have any family left either??

like i do think that impacts her life a lot. and it might play a role in why she chose this profession in the first place? maybe her mother was also a single woman working in a male-dominated field and judith chose to work as a teacher partly as a tribute to her mother? additionally to wanting to be a safe place for students?

i think being a safe place for young girls especially also adds an interesting layer. depending on if we genderswap all of the cast or if a majority of the teachers are men teaching at an all girls boarding school

about their pasts; those are all very good questions……

i like the idea of the nichtraucher working as a field nurse or something. this sounds so cruel but the trauma fits her and since you mentioned her child im thinking maybe that works as an alternative backstory? that the nichtraucher worked as a field nurse and met her future husband there (he could've been a soldier or maybe he was also a doctor?) and they got married after the war ended but the husband kept some kind of terminal illness or injury that took his life ????? im just throwing things around here

like i feel if it was her who was pregnant and maybe had a miscarriage that changes the emotion attached to that sad memory? it’d be something that directly happened to HER instead of her being a helpless bystander who couldn’t do anything to stop her loved ones from dying i think it would work fine if we cut her child out and its just her husband that died (most film adaptations didn’t mention the child either)

tbh i can’t see how dr bökh might’ve been involved in the war. all i can imagine is that she stayed home finishing her education while her best friend/lover went to the front lines and the kind of heartbreak and worry of that?? if we make them both a little older that could potentially even be their backstory and how they lost contact. its kinda giving 2003 70s justraucher with the not knowing if the nichtraucher made it out alive perhaps they were partly in contact over letters and that’s how judith knew about barbara’s husband and his death, but then they lost contact after that?? idk if the timeline even makes sense here

#SORRY idk if i brought you any further in your thinkings #das fliegende klassenzimmer #dfk #girl dfk #mine #ask

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melishade · 7 months ago

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Attack on Prime Chapter 90: The Big Twist

Spoilers ahead if you haven't read the chapter. I recommend that you do if you haven't.

So.....

let’s talk about Primus. Eh?

So looking back on the Transformers franchise as a whole, Primus himself isn't really capitalized on. In a few of the shows, he’s only name-dropped or doesn’t even exist like TFA. In shows like TFP and the book the Covenant of Primus, he is alluded to and even given a brief backstory of his and Unicron’s origins before shifting gears to the Primes and their dynamics, but never makes an on screen appearance. He’s shown as the core and that’s it. We don’t know what he looks like in the Aligned Continuity. I think there is a toy out for him, but it was never said to be official. The only Transformers content that really explores on Primus is the IDW comics. Where Primus has aligned himself with three other transformer deities, but one of them got really angry with him for some reason and as punishment, got rid of his god powers, made everyone forget ever knowing him after he so much as left the room. (Look my info on IDW is spotty. I never got the chance to read the comics in full. Although god being a therapist is hilarious).

Besides IDW, there aren’t many interpretations or characterizations of Primus, which is a damn shame, considering we’ve always seen Unicron in almost all Transformers iterations. So it was something that I’ve always wanted to take a crack at: putting my own spin on the creator of the Transformers. I wanted to bring him into Attack on Prime, but before the AOT story was completed, I had no clue how to bring Primus into the story without it sounding so contrived and out of nowhere. I couldn’t have him pop out in the sky, tell everyone to stop fighting, and then have him leave, confusing everyone. It wouldn’t have made sense. In fact, I was all but ready to scrap the idea for AOP…until the Paths chapters dropped in the AOT manga, and I realized:

And I immediately got to work on how to incorporate Primus into the story while also making it make sense. Which took a while. I’ve worked on multiple rewrites of Primus’ character and his interactions with Eren and Zeke before creating the final draft for the chapter. I started my brainstorming of my characterization of Primus in late 2019 with the document titled RELGN 132 (which was the title of a religion course I took at UCLA, so fairly on the nose). So yeah, I’ve been working on it for 4+ years.

But first let’s talk about the multiple lead up I’ve had up until this point, because again, I’m meticulous with my foreshadowing. Chapter of foreshadowing include:

Chapter 45 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 72 Chapter 77 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 86

(And a bunch of other additional chapter do have foreshadowing and there is a small inkling of Primus' presence, and I might explain that later, but I want to see if people can piece it together by re-reading the chapter. If not, then I'll probably just say it outright, IDK.)

But, some moments might’ve been noticeable, some not so much. I knew that I didn’t want Primus’ introduction in the Paths to feel out of nowhere. Eren and Zeke are talking and suddenly this guy just pops out of nowhere. I needed him to be alluded to, which is where the 4th notebook and Pieck come in, oh and also Unicron. Well, at least Unicron's powerset.

In the Covenant of Primus, Primus and Unicron are said to come from the same being: The One, who split apart due to its own internal conflict regarding the state of the universe. If Primus and Unicron come from the same being, they must have the same abilities. Or similar abilities at least. One of the abilities should include: using their blood to communicate with others who carry their blood. Dark energon flows through Unicron while energon flows through Primus. Through energon, all Cybertronians are connected and return to the place they spawned from after their death, regardless of how good or bad their intentions were. If this concept can apply to Cybertronian, surely it could apply to titan shifters, who’s powers even defy death itself on some level. Once all the titan shifters, or at least the Founder, had access to energon, Primus had access to them, and would have found a way to enter the Paths, either through his own power or Vector’s help, since the Paths operate outside of space time. (Primus himself will provide a brief explanation in the Paths II. And the In Between OVA that I keep bringing up, is simply AOP from Primus' perspective. God I am so happy I can say that now!)

But because the Paths operate outside of space and time and the fact that the full powers of the Founder hadn't been utilized on the flow of time, Primus lacked the tools he needs to figure out what the hell was going on or even eliminate the power of the titans. He is flung through the memories and lives of each titan shifter; however, some memories are blocked from him and he doesn’t know why. And because of Primus lack of control, he can’t properly interact with the world around him. He can only interact with other titan shifters as a distorted image. A shadow. He can’t give so much information to Kruger and Pieck. He can only provide images, hidden clues because of the barrier between them. And Primus wants to learn about the truth of the AOT world, so he sees through their eyes and listens to their stories. Even when Kruger and Pieck interact with Primus and even touch him, they are met with a warm, gentle, touch of comfort. Something to show that he is other worldly. In addition to that, the allusion to the overlap of voices, how Primus knows about even that happened thousands of years into the past, his glowing blue eyes, how he forces Kruger to feel the pain and suffering of the people he turned into titans, how Primus had called Megatron and Arcee by name before asking Pieck to believe in Optimus, proclaiming he would be the one to end the power of the titans. The longer Primus is on screen as the shadow, the more ‘in your face’ the information becomes. If you haven’t pieced together the shadow is Primus, then at the very least, you know that the shadow is Cybertronian.

Other pieces of information that are not so subtle, is actually the local therapist Rung in the Cybertron OVA. If you know your transformers lore, then you should know that Rung is Primus. That was one of the obvious bits of information that I was incorporating here. Some of the interactions that Rung has includes him not batting an eye when Starscream lashes out at him and catches the energon cube with such ease that he completely forgets to react the way a normal person would. The scene that Rung had alone where he looks at the Jackhammer in a remorse manner, almost as if he knows what’s going to happen but can’t do anything about it. Finally, when Rung places a comforting hand on Arcee, Arcee notes that the hand feels warm and comforting, and she feels a swell of emotions. Ya know, like every other interaction he’s had with humans on screen. Not to mention that Rung recommended that Arcee leave the planet on purpose because of prior knowledge of the AOT world because I’ve hinted at the fact that Primus in the story right now is from a time where the events of AOT haven’t happened yet. Right before he sends Optimus (Of course, this will be explain more cohesively within the In between OVA, which is going to focus on Primus and what’s he’s been doing throughout the AOP story).

More subtle bits of information when foreshadowing Primus’ role in the story is the drawing of Optimus Prime’s holoform, or rather Primus, from the 4th notebook. The drawing is led to believe and cement the fact that the Attack Titan can see into the future. Which is true, Primus’ appearance in the story is a future event, however, I have to make a note that what they are looking at is not Optimus. It’s Primus wearing Optimus’ face. So I had to have someone who would take notice of the way that Primus is wearing Optimus’ face. Erwin had to be the observation because he’s the only human that has been known to notice those subtle details and connections. He of course brought this up with Megatron and Megatron does notice the difference. But the drawing is not Megatron’s concern, assuming that someone trying to interpret someone from memory is going to get a few details wrong. Also, they have other priorities to take care of besides a drawing from the past. Megatron and ultimately Erwin let it go, but I’m letting the audience know, something is clearly up. Adding on top of that, Kruger has never met Optimus, but he had seen the shadow’s face before dying. That should be another indicator that it’s not Optimus. It’s the shadow. It’s Primus.

Finally, the more subtle indication of Primus’ presence in the story is the conversation that Eren and Kenshin had about the existence of gods in general. While Kenshin believes that god exists, Eren does not. He critiques god and believe god to be hypocritical while Kenshin believes that god cares and wants the creation to live freely. It’s supposed to be an engaging conversation while also hinting at the fact that Eren’s definitely going to talk to a deity with his mentality and future visions and get the crap kicked out of him.

I’m certain that I missed something but what I’ve wanted to say but the foreshadowing of Primus is there, and I wanted it to be clear. However, Primus’ characterization is something I wanted to discuss for a long time too. Again, we don’t know much about Primus’ character besides Rung, and I didn’t want him to be a stoic deity. That’s boring. I wanted to have some fun. I wanted Primus to be the complete opposite of Unicron. While Unicron is haughty and prideful, Primus is kind and humble. While Unicron loathes the idea of existence and wants death and destruction, Primus believes in life and creation. Unicron believes that everything is beneath him while Primus sees the value of even the smallest living thing. Unicron believes in working alone, and that he is the most powerful being. No one else should have his power. Primus believes in cooperation, unity, and sharing his power. Unicron wants to destroy the universe, Primus wants to be a part of it.

With that in mind, I was able to write a characterization of Primus: a gentle, kind being that cares deeply for the lives of others that may or may not even be his own. Someone who gets excited at the prospect of learning new things about new beings, someone who mourns the loss of life, and someone who gets angry at the prospect of someone wanting to take that life away. Someone who genuinely tries to understand the individual and their experiences in order to truly understand the meaning of life.

However, there is a fatal flaw to Primus. People I've talked with in the transformers fandom, myself included, have criticized Primus for his own inaction during the war. He gave the Matrix to Optimus, sure, but he did nothing to stop the War in its tracks or even stop the caste system from taking place. Why didn’t he help out Megatron and his people? Why didn’t he stop Megatron when he had gone insane? Why did he make Optimus shoulder all his responsibilities twice? Why does Primus not step in when there are life-threatening events that could destroy the universe? The very thing he values and wants to be part of? It’s very simple: Primus is an immortal deity, with powers to see beyond the veil of time and defy reality if he wanted to but chooses not to based on the safety of the whole universe and every living creature. A personal theory I've come up with is the Unicron prophecy in TFP. Unicron was set to reawaken on Earth, but Cybertron doesn’t know about Earth until the war happens. Sure, if the war didn’t happen, the caste system could have been fixed and Cybertron could have been a better place to live, but Unicron would have awakened with no one to stop him and would have destroyed the whole universe, Cybertron included. It’s an example of Primus trying to see the bigger picture and that’s where his flaw lies. When seeing the bigger picture, he ignores the sufferings of mortals who lead very limited lives compared to him. Primus has all the time in the universe to figure everything out, but not Cybertron, and not everyone else. His purpose even if Cybertron is destroyed is to battle Unicron once more. It’s an endless cycle. But Primus ends up missing the point that he wants to understand. There’s a quote from Steven Universe’s character Sapphire that encapsulates this perfectly:

“I keep looking into the future when all of this has already been solved, as if it doesn’t matter how you feel in the present. No wonder you think I don’t care.”

The meaning of life to a mortal is vastly different to that of an immortal. As a result, Primus will never fully understand them and can’t be part of the universe like he wants to. He cannot live and die like they can. But even so, he still tries to, and that’s what makes him all the more understanding. This is what I want to encapsulate for my characterization of Primus in AOP. Now he has to confront two titan shifters with their own flaws and failings: one that wishes to die, and one that wishes to destroy. And he is not happy with either of them trying to play god out of selfishness.

(There's other things that I want to discuss, like Primus' design and other actions within the story, but I think I'll take care of that tomorrow. Still if you haven't, please leave a comment. That would be greatly appreciated. And I encourage you to read back through AOP to find those clues of Primus' presence.

Not to mention, chapter 45 isn't Primus' first appearance.)

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