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heyheyitsjae · 3 months ago

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So the trailer for The Minecraft Movie (sorry, “A Minecraft Movie”) came out a couple days ago. I had a lot of thoughts upon seeing it, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, and have been combing through other people’s takes the last few days, so I’ve been itching to talk about it. The trailer is currently sitting at 500,000 likes vs 900,000 dislikes, so obviously it hasn’t been received well. Even the official Minecraft channel hasn’t uploaded it, only linking to WB’s upload. I thought I’d go back to the beginning and give my thoughts on progress as stuff from the film came out.

So the first major red flag for me was when they announced the film was going to be in live action. I could not for the life of me fathom that decision. Minecraft has such a goofy and stylized world that it would only really work in animation, and we’ve had plenty of excellent Minecraft animations over the years to prove that. The Fallen Kingdom Pentology, Villager News, Cas van de Pol’s shorts, Kelpilox’s memes, Hapico’s stunning 3D shorts, and of course the official update trailers. Time and time again Minecraft has proven that both hilariously funny and epicly badass content can be made in its world, often by the fanbase.

And yet, they chose to make the film in live action. The only way I could possibly think of this working would be if they entirely ditched the blocky aesthetic, and made it a high fantasy like Lord of the Rings, The DnD Movie, or even The Princess Bride. There’s plenty of fantasy elements like Creepers, Endermen, and Piglins that could keep something like that grounded in Minecraft’s world, even if it would be an odd choice.

Then the birthday short came out. For those of you that don’t know, as a part of the 15th anniversary of Minecraft they put out a short on YouTube and Tik Tok of Jack Black and Jason Momoa cutting a cake and wishing Minecraft “happy birthday.” The actors weren’t even wearing any sort of outfit or costume for the film, and their acting felt very strained and terrible. I had my fingers crossed that they just cheaped out because it’s a promotional short, but it was still a bad sign. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/2f0fPzZNPWw

Then concept art started to leak for the film. While there were a couple of designs I did find cool like the Spider and Elytra, others like the Pig and Villagers concerned me and looked pretty doofy. These were obviously created by a variety of artists, so there was no telling who’s vision they would go forward with, and I saw it as a bit of a coin flip.

Then the actual trailer came out, and… oh boy… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE2YZhcC4NY&t=1s

For a start the opening shot didn’t seem all that bad to me. Yeah real life Minecraft is still a weird concept, and that archway looked unnatural, but at least some level of effort seemed to have gone into it.

And then the actors showed up and all hope dropped. Their implementation into the film felt really awkward and lazy. Every shot they’ve got an awkward glow around them, either a result of being poorly green screened or needlessly backlit. They often feel out of scale with the environment and there’s a decent amount of shots where they don’t even cast a shadow. They feel so unnatural in this world. It makes you wonder, if all the backgrounds and mobs are gonna be done in CGI anyway, why not make the humans CGI and the whole thing an animation from the get go?

The wardrobe of these actors is also a strange one. One that stands out as odd to me is Momoa has blonde hair, a brown beard, AND a pink jacket? At least make his hair and beard the same color it just looks awkward.

And of course the king of awkward stand-outs is Jack Black as Steve. They didn’t even try, they just threw a blue shirt on him and called it a day. They could have at least trimmed up his beard. It’s especially odd they went with Black given Jason Momoa is right there!? Momoa has the perfect skin tone, right beard shape, and roughly the right amount of muscle mass to be Steve. The only thing that doesn’t really line up is his hair is a tad long, but if they were gonna put him in a wig anyway that’s not a hard fix.

Most of the delivery in the teaser also feels pretty stiff and none of the jokes land. So far it’s got a strong “gulp, he’s right behind me” vibe that I’m not digging.

Before we get to the moment you’re all waiting for, a couple of little side complaints on minor things.

Something I noticed in the trailer that super bugged me, but I’ve only seen one other person mention so maybe I’m overreacting, is the logs on the scene where they meet Steve. For some reason the bottom railing has the logs rings facing up toward the crenelations or sideways into each other, but the crenelations have the logs facing sideways toward the camera!? Not only does it look really bad, but that’s the kind of thing that would take a lot of extra effort to do in-game, placing and breaking two extra blocks for each bump, only for it to ruin the build.

And then there’s the crafting table. This scene was a bit quick, blink and you’ll miss it, so I didn’t give it much thought on first viewing. I just assumed Mamoa put two buckets and a chain on the table… but he didn’t. He threw like, six iron ingots and five cobblestone, onto the table and it somehow worked. The items on the table weren’t even lined up with the crafting grid. It’s the literal fucking name of the game and they couldn’t get it right!? HOW, HOW DO YOU FUCK UP THAT BADLY!!!

Okay now we’re on to the REAL bad bit! The mobs in this film are a train wreck. They are a shining example of what I mentioned before, either you make this film entirely animation or entirely live action. This awkward halfway point just creates an uncanny valley feeling that’s disturbing to look at. Most of them feel A.I. generated.

The Sheep and the Llama are obviously the worst contenders. They look like something a parody YouTuber would throw together for a grossout short in 2013. I’ve heard some people try to defend this movie by saying “it’s just for kids, don’t be so hard on it.” I can’t think of a single five year old that would piss their pants crying in fear if they saw this thing pop up on screen. They are horrendous.

Then there’s the Wolf. The Wolf doesn’t look as bad in comparison. There’s something off about its lips and hind legs, but I think obscuring it in shadows is saving us from the brunt of whatever the hell could be going on.

And then there’s the Creeper, which is an… interesting choice. A lot of people have complained that it’s fuzzy, but looking at the poster it seems a bit odder than that. It looks like its skin is made of a dirt like substance and its fir is grass, which is… a choice. For those that don’t know, the original description we were given of Creeper skin was that it was “crunchy like dry leaves.” This has led to basically everyone assuming Creepers are plant-like creatures, with most people giving them scaly skin. I suppose grass fir fits with being plant-like, but it’s not scaly or dry at all. To be fair, a lot of fan theories have suggested Creepers could be made of peat moss, and it looks a little like that, but it’s still off.

That then brings us to the Piglins who… honestly don’t look that bad. I think a combination of smaller eyes, less fur, and not being based on a real life animal makes them a lot more digestible than the other mobs in the film. I also like the use of Ghasts as airships. That was a concept we saw in one of the Fallen Kingdom songs that Minecraft almost implemented into canon with Minecraft Legends. While these Ghast airships are nowhere near as cool looking as either of those examples, at least it’s something. But there’s a lot of stuff to talk about with the Piglins aside from their appearance, so let's get into it.

The first is a common complaint I’ve seen people make: how they’re able to breathe in the Overworld, when normally this causes Zombification. We *might* have an answer to this. In Minecraft Legends the Piglins tried to invade the Overworld. They brought with them huge Nether Spreader devices that spread Netherrack and heated the air, while the Horde of the Spore bred and spread mushroom fungal spores into the air. The spores made the air breathable for Piglins, and the heat presumably killed off the virus.

Now that made sense for Legends, but doesn’t really make sense here. After the Piglin Invasion, the Horde of the Spore was hit hardest by the war. While survivors of the Horde of the Hunt remain in the Crimson Forests and the Horde of the Bastion remain in the Bastion Remnants, Piglins have since abandoned the Warped Forests, with Hoglins even developing a fear of the Warped Fungi, leaving the Horde of the Spore extinct.

During Legends the Piglins had giant machines and an entire third of the army dedicated to making the Overworld breathable, while this trailer seems to show the much smaller modern Piglin army, so I have no idea how they are keeping alive.

The other big issue that rises with the Piglins being here is… why? In Legends the Piglin Invasion at least sort of made sense. In the base game we had the Ruined Portals revealing travel between the two Dimensions was once more common, and the Bastion Remnants hinting that Piglins were once more populous and militaristic. Legends answered both of these by implying that the Piglins once tried to invade the Overworld, but after their four abusive kings were killed the few survivors split up and determined the Overworld not worth their efforts.

The Piglins went from a militaristic and imperial force determined to conquer, to a small band of tribes that, while territorial, are ultimately friendly. They’ve become far less united and greedy (assuming they even were that greedy, Legends is a story written by the victors after all.) Based on the outfits, and Steve being alive, it seems the Piglins in this film are the *modern* Piglins. The chill dudes that give you enchanted boots for gold and compose fire mixtapes. The whole turning an entire race in your story into mindless evil monsters for Legends was already something that didn’t sit well with the Minecraft fanbase, especially with how adorable Piglins are, so using the friendly version of them as the bad guys in the film is an odd choice. We already have a group that raids villages, the Illagers, and a group that's yet to get the story spotlight, the Undead, both of whom would’ve been more logical and interesting villains for the movie.

That brings me to another minor point that I think is worth bringing up here. I’ve heard some people complain about the portal at the start and while I agree it shouldn’t be blue, it's not for the same reason they do. A lot of people claim the portal should be purple, which is actually not true. Purple is the color of the Nether Portal yes, but we know from Minecraft Story Mode and the Infinite Dimensions April Fools Snapshot that that portals in this world can be basically any color, with each Dimension getting its own color, so the idea of the human world not being purple makes sense.

But I think this shade of light blue is a bad choice, for one simple reason. The plot of Minecraft Legends was: Piglins decided to invade the overworld, so heroes from a far off land were brought in through a light blue portal to fix it. So far, the plot of this film seems to be: Piglins decided to invade the overworld, so heroes from a far off land were brought in through a light blue portal to fix it.

We’re just doing Legends again, which I cannot fucking fathom. Why the hell would you make a “Minecraft” movie and then base its plot on something exclusive to one of the sequels. Where’s the logic in that!? It’s especially baffling that Legends of all things was the one they decided to go with. Filming for this film didn’t start till earlier this year, sometime after February, meaning that things like actor schedules, lot rentals, and creating props probably weren’t set in stone until like, last August.

That was well after Legends was the biggest critical and financial flop of any Minecraft spin-off (sans maybe Earth, but that never really came out.) This film had already been delayed time and time again, presumably because the script wasn’t up to snuff, so one more delay after it had been proven that people didn’t want to see that story wouldn’t have been that big a deal. Then again, Legends wasn’t officially canned until a couple months before filming and Black and Momoa probably have busier schedules and had to be booked further in advance. But it still feels like a poor choice that they had time to course correct on.

Although there is ONE thing that sets this story apart from Legends. It appears to be going down the Jumanji route. Now while you could argue Legends already was an Isekai story, at least in that case it was someone traveling from a Minecraft world to another Minecraft world. Here we’ve got another fucking instance of a bunch of people being sucked into the videogame world.

As people have mentioned before, having Jack Black in here is automatically giving Jumanji vibes, but even ignoring that I’m so damn sick of every single videogame movie being an Isekai. It is so annoying that game worlds aren’t allowed to exist as their own thing. The protagonist always has to be some outsider from the real world sent to this strange and kooky realm, and it’s just annoying. Videogames are fun when they have rich, fleshed out, and lived in universes, and reducing that to either “I’ve been trapped in the game” or “I’m unfamiliar with this world at tall” robs them of a lot of their wonder. The Mario Movie did it, the Monster Hunter Movie did it, the Sonic Movie did the reverse of it. We need more Detective Pickachu type films, where we explore people from a far out place in that far out place.

Now let’s shift gears into less of aesthetic annoyances and more into potential spoiler territory.

Something that I didn’t notice while watching the trailer, and I’ve only seen one person point out, is that The Seer from Minecraft Legends shows up at one point, surrounded by a crowd of Piglins. Now I would assume this movie is non-canon (it’s not made by Mojang and previous stuff not made by Mojang, like Story Mode, have been non-canon.) But if it IS canon, The Seer being there has interesting implications for the series lore/timeline.

First and foremost is the idea that the Seer and Steve are alive at the same time. Steve is in both the base game and Dungeons, both of which were agreed to happen in a similar time-frame anyway. (Dungeons has both statues of the Ender Dragon being alive during the Arch-Illager’s reign and statues of her getting slain.) But Legends is agreed upon taking place hundreds if not thousands of years prior to the events of the main game. None of the ruined and abandoned structures of modern Minecraft are in it and it depicts the origin of most of the series main races/factions.

In order for The Seer and Steve to be alive at the same time it either means The Seer is immortal and has been hiding in the background for a while, or Steve is both immortal and MUCH older than we thought. Of the two the first seems more likely, and creates interesting potential for The Seer. They’re the only major antagonist from any of the three main games to not either be befriended or killed (I’m sure someone in Story Mode survived I’m forgetting about) and so their story is unfinished. They also serve as a great explanation for the Piglin army.

The Piglins only attacked during Legends because they were ruled by tyrannical kings who borderline enslaved their people and had a might-makes-right mentality. With all these kings dead, and no army left to maintain their rule/order, of course the survivors would become more independent and less militaristic. It was a logical way to transition from how they’re depicted in both games. If anyone was going to revert the Piglins to their old ways, it would be the ancient hag who advised that cruel council, the only one their violent king showed an ounce of respect or fear to. Seer’s reinstating the old ways, the only question is why now? What took them so long to strike?

But there’s another potential wrinkle in this plot that could make it more complicated, in an honestly annoying way. Throughout the trailer we see the main kid in the red hoodie is holding a strange glowing blue cube (that totally isn’t just the Tesseract from Marvel.) What this device is hasn’t been explained, but I’ve seen two popular theories going around.

The first is that it’s a Beacon. In which case, sure, whatever. The other is that it could be the Orb of Dominance and this is the Orb’s origin story, of how it became an all powerful evil artifact. That would make this film a prequel to Legends, establishing how The Seer got their hands on the Orb and got their good standing with the Great Hog’s council

I… don’t like that. For two main reasons. The first is that this would just exacerbate the Steve is immortal problem, you’re really gonna tell me he was there for EVERYTHING!? The second is that it really drags down the Orb of Dominance’s cool factor. The way it's depicted and talked about in Dungeons implies it's some sort of manifestation of an eldritch entity hellbent on destroying or conquering everything it comes into contact with, who has been vying for power since the dawn of time. Now it’s… something(?) that the humans brought with them. While still mysterious, I suppose, it sounds a lot less cool now (although let’s be honest, it was always a little dumb.)

Also slightly off topic but I just want to mention, PhoenixSC made a video reviewing the teaser, and WB copyright struck him and forced him to mute a portion of the audio. Now you might think “oh well they own the trailer they’re allowed to do that” but no, it wasn’t anything from the teaser they took down. You know what it was? A couple minutes of a fanmade Minecraft short-film Phoenix was praising for being better than the official thing. Not only is that footage they don’t own any right too, but reviewing things is well and truly covered under fair-use.

That’s an absolute scumbag movie. Combine that with the recent controversy Jack Black is getting into and I say please, just don’t watch this film in theaters. It’s clear not an ounce of care or love went into making this. It already looks like such a by the numbers and cheaply put together thing. They can 100% do better and we 100% deserve better.

#Minecraft #Minecraft Movie #The Minecraft Movie #A Minecraft Movie #Rant

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dankusner · 5 months ago

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How Winona Ryder Made It to the Other Side

It is a warm afternoon in late spring, and Winona Ryder and I are walking through the Oakland Cemetery, a Victorian-style graveyard located in the center of Atlanta.

Large oak and magnolia trees shade the manicured paths as we stroll between the grand mausoleums and tombstones.

Ryder is wearing a straw bonnet, with a well-worn Leonard Cohen T-shirt under a black chore jacket that has a pin of a cartoon drawing of Jim Jarmusch affixed to its lapel.

Her eyes are rimmed with eyeliner, and her sneakers are splattered with paint.

Ryder is the first to admit that the word icon has become overused:

“Everyone uses it now, and they don’t know what a real icon is,” she says.

But she looks, as she always has, like the poster child for Gen X.

She defined cinema in the ’90s, embodying both a romantic moodiness and an idealistic dissatisfaction that few other actors have rivaled.

Gazing at the final resting places of others tends to prompt questions of longevity.

Ryder stops to read from a headstone:

“Life so fully lived, haven’t had to wait. Gone fishing.”

She tells me she has a deep admiration for the late actress Ruth Gordon, who won an Academy Award when she was 72 for Rosemary’s Baby and worked well into her 80s.

In past interviews, Ryder has said that she’s ready for her “Ruth Gordon years,” an allusion to a lengthy career that many who enter the industry as ingenues, as Ryder did to some extent, rarely pull off.

When she was 13, she auditioned for the role of Rina in what would become her first film, Lucas, which came out in 1986.

Rina, she recalls, was written in the script as unattractive.

This didn’t deter her.

“I wasn’t hurt by it,” she says. “I was more like, ‘Oh, cool. Can I be Ruth Gordon?’ ”

For the past six months, Ryder has been living in Atlanta, where she’s filming the final season of Stranger Things, with her boyfriend, Scott Mackinlay Hahn.

This September, she will star in the new Tim Burton film Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, the long-anticipated sequel to Burton’s original 1988 film, Beetlejuice, reprising the role of Lydia Deetz, which she first played when she was just 15 years old and helped catapult her to stardom.

Ryder is telling me how she found her way back to playing Lydia, who, like Ryder, is now a middle-aged woman.

“I felt bad for her,” she explains. “I feel INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have been able to LIVE this LIFE—however intense and overwhelming it got.”

In Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, Lydia is a pill-popping widow.

She hosts a television show called Ghost House, thanks to the fact that she still possesses the uncanny ability to see and speak to the dead.

She’s dating—but not in love with—her obsequiously slimy manager, Rory (played by Justin Theroux).

Her teenage daughter, Astrid (Jenna Ortega), hates her;

she finds Lydia’s gift a cheap gimmick, largely because the one person Lydia can’t contact from the afterlife is Astrid’s father, who tragically died in a fishing accident.

Life, it seems, did not quite go as planned for Lydia Deetz. “My mom,” Astrid declares at one point, “is a very broken person.”

Parts of Lydia remind Ryder of a younger version of herself. “In my 30s, I had two disastrous relationships that were—they weren’t wrong, but this was before you would ever think to Google someone,” she says.

“When I look back, I’m like, ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ I was dating the type of person who only lets you know a few weeks in that they’re in a relationship with someone else. And you’re just like, ‘What the fuck?’ ”

Not too long ago, Ryder read through her diaries from that period of her life.

“You clearly write when you’re depressed or upset. I tend to not write when I’m really happy,” she says.

“I was going through them and just asking myself, ‘How?’ I was clearly trying to deal with …” Ryder trails off. “It was very sad. I was clearly trying to believe the best and to give grace to myself. But I was taking care of everything but myself.”

Ryder’s 30s were a well-publicized rough patch.

After a meteoric rise in her teens and 20s, landing roles in era-defining films like Heathers, Mermaids, Reality Bites, and Little Women and working with renowned directors such as Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola, Ryder was burnt out.

Work had been nonstop, and the celebrity that followed put her personal life in the center of an unrelenting spotlight.

Following her 2001 arrest for shoplifting and the tabloid scrutiny that followed, she retreated from the spotlight—a period that, for Ryder, was as much about regrouping as it was stepping out of a life she’d inhabited since her teens and figuring out what she wanted out of it all.

It wasn’t until she played an aging ballerina in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan in 2010 that she finally felt her career had turned a corner.

“That was a very liberating thing, because I was playing my age. … And I think in a lot of people’s minds, that really helped. I sort of graduated,” she told The New York Times in 2016.

Now 52, Ryder is in a much different place in her life and work, inhabiting more of an elder-stateswoman role.

She refuses, for example, to wear heels on the red carpet, preferring to style herself (a rarity in Hollywood), either hiding her boots with a floor-length dress or incorporating them into her outfit.

“I actually made a conscious decision, maybe six years ago,” she says.

The Winona Book, published last year by Idea Books, features candid Polaroids of her by Robert Rich, the former vice president of public relations for Marc Jacobs, who became her close friend and whose basement office below the Marc Jacobs store in New York’s SoHo neighborhood was a haven for celebrities looking to remain undetected.

The book achieved a cultlike status and sells for up to $300 on eBay.

She has been with Hahn, founder of the sustainable organic-cotton company Loomstate, for the past 14 years.

(The two met at the premiere of Black Swan, when Hahn, who failed to recognize Ryder, complimented her for her work in The Fifth Element, a film in which she never appeared.)

Hahn, who joins us during our cemetery walk, is handsome and soft-spoken.

He has a distinctly grounding presence, serving, seemingly, as a kind of ballast to Ryder’s more windblown life as an actor.

“He’s so great. He really is. I’m really lucky,” Ryder says.

They will soon return to either New York City, where they rent, or Los Angeles, where she owns a house.

She and Hahn want to move, but they’re not entirely clear as to where.

“She definitely HELPED me FEEL less ALONE,” says Jenna Ortega.

Ryder is nervous about the upcoming election.

Her parents—established writers and left-wing intellectuals—decamped from Northern California, where Ryder was raised, to Canada after George W. Bush was re-elected in 2004.

Uncertainty looms on the horizon.

Ryder—who can careen from topic to topic in delightful digressions—lists why: the college-campus protests, Jared Kushner’s statement about developing Gaza, the carceral system, and Joe Biden’s chances of beating back Trump in the general election.

“It’s just a scary time,” she adds.

Soon after the first Beetlejuice premiered, there were rumors that Burton was at work on a sequel.

Supposedly, a script for Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian once existed.

“Beetlejuice Goes to Outer Space, Beetlejuice does whatever,” Burton says.

“There’d been talk about it, but I never really understood why it was popular. And this was when people didn’t talk about sequels.”

In the intervening decades, though, Ryder and Burton kept in touch, meeting secretly to discuss making a second Beetlejuice.

“There were a lot of times my agents didn’t know that I was meeting up with him,” Ryder says.

Beetlejuice tells the story of Barbara and Adam Maitland (played by Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin), a young couple living in Winter River, Connecticut, who tragically die in a car accident only to discover, to their surprise, that they have become ghosts.

Their peaceful country home has been sold to the obnoxious and ostentatious Deetz family, which includes Charles, a wealthy real-estate developer;

his wife, Delia, a sculpture artist (played brilliantly by Catherine O’Hara, whose future husband, Bo Welch, was the production designer);

and Charles’s daughter from his first marriage, Lydia.

The Maitlands call upon an ancient trickster demon named Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton) to help scare the Deetz family away, as their extravagant renovation and garish art collection have obliterated all calm and happiness from their (now dead) existence.

As a director, Burton is a first-class world builder whose imaginative leaps have kept him distinctly out of step with his peers.

Unlike other cult films from the 1980s and ’90s that have developed a dated patina over time, Burton’s work often feels suspended in another universe altogether.

The world of Beetlejuice exists in a strangely gothic contemporary America, one where ghosts blast Harry Belafonte at full volume and where a demon can don a black-and-white-striped suit that looks like it could have been designed by the Antwerp Six.

As Lydia puts it so well in the first film: “I myself am strange and unusual.”

Burton had made his directorial debut a few years prior with Pee-wee’s Big Adventure.

Ryder was a virtual unknown, with just Lucas under her belt, a role for which she had dyed her hair black.

It’s a style choice she has more or less maintained throughout her career.

If you watch Lucas, you can see flickers of Lydia Deetz in Ryder’s Rina:

Both are young women in possession of an innate sense of cool.

“Tim’s a terrific caster,” says Keaton. “He doesn’t always get credit for that, but if you look through his films, he always casts really, really well, and that includes Winona.”

“When I met Winona, she reminded me of how I felt as a teenager,” says Burton.

“And she’s got what I love with certain actors. She can say something with just her eyes. … There’s a soul coming out. So without dialogue, without anything, there’s something there. It’s why you make movies.”

“Everyone wanted to be Lydia after watching the first film,” says Ortega.

“She’s so self-assured and smart and ahead of her time.” Indeed, Beetlejuice unlocks a deep truth about what it feels like to be a teenager and what it’s like to grow up in an increasingly alienating world. When Lydia discovers that she can see ghosts, it reveals a kind of supernatural exceptionalism to her, which is something most teenagers hope for in their lives: for something to rescue us from the banality of the ordinary. That is the appeal of Lydia Deetz. But it took Ryder to give Lydia a particular vulnerability, a kind of softness and naivete that endears her to everyone. “I feel like MOIRA ROSE of Schitt’s Creek and DELIA DEETZ are SISTERS”

As Ryder recalls, her first encounter with Burton was unassuming.

That day, she strode onto a soundstage at Culver Studios to meet Burton, with her father waiting for her in their car. Character actors were on their lunch breaks, a woman was dressed in a corset, and someone else was in an animal costume with the head removed.

“I was sitting there, and this guy came in holding a folder, who I thought was a messenger or something. We started talking about Edward Gorey. About half an hour into this conversation, I feel like I’m making a friend, and I ask him, ‘Do you know Tim Burton? This is his office, right?’ And he went, ‘Well, that’s me.’ I didn’t know that directors could look like Tim. He was 27. Immediately, I was like, ‘Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you want me to read?’ He told me no. I remember feeling like ‘Oh, God, did I blow it?’ I had this fear when I got up to leave, and I was like, ‘Hey, man, it was really great meeting you. Good luck, this sounds really great.’ I added, ‘If you want, I can come back.’ But he told me that he wanted me to do it. That had never happened. I’d never been offered a part without a reading for it or on the spot like that, ever.”

“She probably thought I was some kind of weird stalker,” says Burton.

“But I had that effect on people. I didn’t speak very well, so people didn’t understand what I was saying. In fact, they still don’t. But again, that’s why I feel like we connected, because I didn’t scare her away. She ultimately got it and got who I was.”

Beetlejuice was a resounding success.

It would also form the beginning of a sustained relationship between the director and both Keaton and Ryder, with Burton casting them in his subsequent films.

Keaton would play the titular Caped Crusader in 1989’s Batman and 1992’s Batman Returns, and Ryder would star as Kim Boggs in Edward Scissorhands in 1990, opposite her then-boyfriend, Johnny Depp.

She describes working with Burton as a kind of “telepathy,” one where the director doesn’t finish his sentences and gestures his intentions but she still, somehow, understands perfectly what he’s trying to convey.

“He could be like, ‘Maybe, I think, yeah. You know?’ And I’ll be like, ‘Yeah, totally. I know.’ ”

Did they understand they were making a cult film?

Something that would spawn a Broadway musical and an endless parade of Halloween costumes, memes, imitations, and subtle references (“I do feel like Moira Rose of Schitt’s Creek and Delia Deetz are sisters,” says Ryder)—an unrelenting obsession the world over?

“We weren’t quite sure what we were making,” recalls Keaton. “We just knew this guy had something.”

“I THINK, ‘What if I just HANG IT UP?’ And then you start THINKING of ALL THE PEOPLE that you would WORK with if they CALLED, and that’s NOT really RETIRING. That’s just BEING AVAILABLE.”

We retreat from the afternoon heat to the shade of a large magnolia tree whose long, jointed branches are something out of a Burton set.

Hahn points out the tombstone of the golfer Bobby Jones, which is decorated in white golf balls, and later we stumble upon Kenny Rogers’s grave.

Hahn plucks a magnolia flower from the tree’s bough and encourages us each to smell it.

The scent is floral and citrusy, with a darker, more vegetal sensibility.

I ask Ryder about her Jarmusch pin.

In 1991, she played a young taxi driver in his film Night on Earth.

Working on a big show like Stranger Things can be draining, she admits, though she’s ever grateful for the opportunity.

“And then I think, ‘What if I just hang it up?’ And then I think, ‘Well, if Jim wanted me to do something, I would do it,’ and then you start thinking of all the people that you would work with if they called, and that’s not really retiring. That’s just being available,” she says.

We are near a large Confederate memorial, and Ryder begins musing on history, war, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

When did the term PTSD first appear, she wonders?

“I know it was once called shell shock,” she says.

We discuss how it is more commonly understood today that people other than veterans can have PTSD.

Ryder is quick to acknowledge the unparalleled violence and trauma of war.

Still, our conversation somehow reminds me of what Ortega tells me about Ryder, how the actress was incredibly generous with her when they first met, which was right around the time Ortega’s own star was taking off with her portrayal of Wednesday Addams in Burton’s 2022 Netflix series Wednesday.

“She definitely helped me feel less alone,” says Ortega.

“It’s a very isolating experience and a scary one. Being able to speak to somebody who had witnessed that firsthand, maybe even more, was a great source of comfort for me, and I can’t thank her enough for that.”

These days, Ryder is a self-professed Luddite and is not on any social media, maintaining a blissful ignorance of what the public has to say about her.

Earlier this year, Kendall Jenner wore a 1999 archival Givenchy dress designed by Alexander McQueen to the Met Gala, claiming she was the “first human” to ever wear it.

Quickly, though, photographs circulated online of Ryder wearing the dress the same year it was designed in a photo shoot for Flaunt magazine.

Ryder was silent on the matter at the time. “I heard about that,” Ryder says when I ask her about it.

Liv Liberg

“I do remember that photo shoot. It was with my dear friend [and makeup artist] Kevyn Aucoin,” she says.

“And I did wear it. I have pictures. The photographer gave me some prints. I’m in a tartan in one of them, and I’m in that dress.”

The next day, Ryder texts me a photograph of herself as a 13-year-old.

This was from before she had been cast in anything, before she nabbed the role of Veronica in Heathers just a few years later, in part by going to the mall and asking for a makeover to prove she could, in fact, look like the pretty and popular one.

Her hair is boyishly cropped, and she’s wearing a plaid cardigan over a Clash T-shirt.

She looks beautiful and impossibly cool.

I can see instantly how the world fell in love with her.

Even now, though she has managed to mature in the public eye, she still possesses what one director told me was a “romantic fragility” that adds an immeasurable depth to whomever she plays onscreen.

We exchange a few more messages.

Did she ever think she had PTSD from those early days, when the white-hot light of the spotlight was focused so intensely on her?

“The answer would be no,” she wrote back the next day.

“I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to live this life—however intense and overwhelming it got, it’s NOTHING compared to what it is now with the internet and social media. I just find myself feeling tremendous empathy toward people who have sacrificed so much.”

A little bit later, I’m struck by a silly impulse to know one last thing after our cemetery walk and I send her another text:

Does she believe in ghosts?

The afterlife?

We all know what Lydia Deetz would say. But Ryder doesn’t respond.

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demoreelrewound · 6 months ago

Text

Episode 1 excerpt: Company Trailer

The screen shows TRAILER - DEMO REEL PRODUCTION STUDIO. The classic countdown plays.

Important sounding music starts- the logo moves as it does in the show intro, then match-cuts to a live-action clapperboard closing then revealing DONNIE DUPRÉ. He reads the contents of a folder in his director chair with an obviously arranged set of '"tools of the trade" on shelves behind him - some in boxes, some loose. There's an identical clapperboard to the one just used on the table beside DONNIE.

DONNIE looks up from the folder on his lap and smiles, at once charming and staged.

DONNIE: Oh, hello! My name is Donnie Dupré, and you've reached the official website for my production company, Demo Reel.

Now you may be asking, "what is Demo Reel?" Well, I'm glad you asked! We are a group of like-minded creatives ---

Shot fades as he continues. A selection of soundless clips play, showing low budget recreations of various films gradually zoom in, beginning with a scene of DONNIE laughing directly at the camera (laughing at the viewer).

These scenes include one or two clever shots hampered by very obvious set dressing, as well as cheap digital effects and actors who only stuck around for one film - this is made clear with two of them of the exact same build and ethnicity playing characters originally played by the same actor. (Likely a Black actor to call forward episode 2's focus.)

DONNIE (voiceover throughout): -- dedicated to crafting high-quality homages to some of your favourite movies, all in the name of furthering your appreciation of them. As you can see, we opt for a home-made, minimalistic style, so all the focus can go on what's most important, recreating memorable moments for a new audience...

The montage ends by going full view on a scene of Braveheart also including REBECCA STONE trying her best with the material she's got.

[Blogger note: I've not seen Braveheart so I've no idea which scene would be best here, but the parody is clearly in the self-referential style of Channel Awesome and HISHE-era YouTube parodies, only with slightly better production value. They're in a real woodland but the sky has been cut out as much as possible and changed to sunset with greenscreen. A flat orange filter has been put over the actors in post-production.]

The clip ends and we cut back to Donnie in the chair smiling proudly and nodding once.

DONNIE (wryly): Felt just like the real thing, didn't it?

The shot switches to that of another camera - this one has a tighter shot of DONNIE'S head and shoulders but you can see the very edge of the previous camera.

DONNIE: With the help of my talented crew of both local and international talent --

Beat. He realises his redundancy then shakes his head.

DONNIE: (regains confident mask) I hope to eventually take the Demo Reel Production Studio beyond the Internet and into the real world. And who knows, maybe even Hollywood!

The shot lingers just a bit longer than it's supposed to with his face still on the last syllable before it switches to a screen grab of a basic looking website.

DONNIE (voiceover): Here on our official website, you can access our trailers, contact information, and the opportunity to become a part of the Demo Reel VIP club, featuring a newsletter, exclusive behind-the-scenes content and previews for our upcoming releases.

The things said appear on screen. As well as DONNIE and REBECCA, one of the candid shots catches KARL COPENHAGEN in profile, intently working on repairs to his camera - he's turned his head away sharply enough to blur his face. Another shows TACOMA NEWELL smiling in surprise with a pen in his hand, having been going over a typed-out script to edit. One image shows all four, implying a fifth person, but it's followed up with a close up of a gross-looking microwave meal.

DONNIE: We hope you enjoy your stay on our little corner of the web, and experience the magic of movies all over again.

(Beat)

Demo Reel: we don't make films, we remake them.

DONNIE lifts the spare clapperboard.

DONNIE: Aaand cut!

It claps shut and the video ends.

#{reel rewound}#reel rewound: donnie dupré #(not sure if I should tag the others as they only appear in picture form)

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bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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Youtuber Sukuna pt3

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life! I never thought youtuber sukuna would be so popular, so thank you everyone for giving me encouragement to continue this lil series. This will be the final part, but who’s to say we can’t have an OVA episode?? I smell a beach episode...or maybe a trip to an onsen? Who knows!

Part one --- part two

This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It certainly felt like it. Scrolling on Pinterest was the last thing he wanted to do, in fact it was something he openly mocked in the past, but now per your advice, he was looking at thousands of photos of home decor.

Sukuna was hesitant to admit to you that he had no furniture in his home. After seeing how well decorated and lived in your home was, it only made his shame increase at being a grown man with foldable furniture. But you took it in stride and offered to help, even making him share a Pinterest board with you so the two of you could get inspiration for a shopping trip.

That’s how he found himself at IKEA on a bright and early Saturday morning. You’d begged him to let you come shopping with him, and Sukuna was a man unable to refuse any request you made of him.

“Ah, this is going to be so exciting!” You shouted, nearly running to the carts at the front of the store. You were clearly more excited than he was, your energy seemed to know no bounds as you bounced on your heels and waited for him to trudge to the front door.

“What’s so exciting about furniture?” He grumbled, subconsciously taking the cart from your hands. Pushing into the store, Sukuna felt like he had been transported to another world. With staged living quarters that looked more real than his own home, he was at a loss for words.

“Sukuna, c’mere!” You were already ten paces ahead, standing at the entrance to one said fake home. Coming upon it, Sukuna nearly gagged at the color palette. There were bright orange tufted couches with a blue area rug and more pillows than he had owned his whole life. With white accents and gunmetal colored lamps, it looked far too much for him.

“It’s ugly.” He said, not caring about the other people around you that seemed to enjoy it.

“Really?” Taking another look around, you shrugged your shoulders and took a step back. “You’re right, it doesn’t really fit your whole vibe.”

That was definitely correct. If Sukuna had to give a name to his personal style it would be ‘who the fuck cares as long as it works’. He wasn’t one to dwell on his looks for too long, just content grabbing clothes that were easily accessible and trendy, ones that he knew would help him fit in. And that habit had bled into his furniture choice as well.

“Okay, you seemed to pin a lot of pictures that look like this-” Leaning over, he watched you scroll past picture after picture of what almost looked like the same thing, a living room with dark colored couches, a white rug and dark colored walls, almost always with a metal or dark wooden coffee table.

“Yeah, it fits me.” Wandering through the store, Sukuna glanced at an all white room with a window frame encasing a faux view of a city lit up at night. “None of this shit.” He made a vague gesture to the room, and the one following it that looked similar.

“You don’t want any bright colors at all?”

“My hair’s already pink, what more do you want?” That made you snort and giggle, and in turn made Sukuna smile.

“Okay but you can’t just have all black furniture, it’ll make your house feel like a dungeon.” Your hand came to rest on the handle of the shopping cart, dangerously close to laying on top of his. “Promise we’ll get at least a little color today? Maybe a yellow, or a pink to match your hair.”

“S-sure.” Sukuna couldn’t look at anything except for your hand. Your pinky finger was just barely touching his, almost enough that Sukuna could slide his hand under yours and interlace your fingers together.

“Ooh, what about this for your bedroom?” And just like that, you were gone. Dashing off to a display on the wall for bed sheets. “You said you only have a plain white one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about this? This design is really trendy right now.” You were pointing to one that was a deep navy, white grid lines crossing over to make big squares.

“I like it.”

“Awesome! Now, do you have a queen or a king bed?”

After picking out the bed sheets, Sukuna slowly opened up more to the idea of shopping. He was able to recognize pieces he’d seen on Pinterest, picking them out as things he readily liked and would enjoy looking at in his house. He was even persuaded to get a few area rugs for different places in his house, and before he knew it you had piled the basket high with things.

“Ah, today was so much fun!” You sang, bouncing in your seat on the way home from IKEA.

“Now I just need to build all this shit.” Sukuna was amazed at how much you’d convinced him to buy. He had new furniture for his bedroom, a new couch was going to be delivered, a dining table and chairs and even a new desk and chair for his office setup in the corner of his living room.

“Lemme help!” You looked far too eager to help him build, and although Sukuna wanted to tell you no - he really didn’t want you to see how he was currently living - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his house with him, working together on something.

“Alright. Let’s stop somewhere and get food though, I’m hungry.”

One quick fast food meal that Sukuna loathed later, you were carrying things up to his apartment. He refused to let you carry the heavy things even if he could really use the help with some of the oblong boxes. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you carried the small things.

When everything was inside the house, Sukuna watched your reaction to his place. You hadn’t made a sound when you first arrived, you were probably too busy trying to bring everything in from his car.

“Sukuna…” Scanning his apartment, your eyes landed on his abysmal furniture.

“Yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut, dreading what you had to say.

“This is totally what I expected from you.” You laughed, unpacking some of the fake plants you made him buy. “It totally fits you.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding in, Sukuna grabbed one of the boxes containing his new desk.

“Let’s get started.”

If Sukuna thought cooking with you was hard, building furniture with you was the final boss level. He had you read the instructions while he laid all the pieces out, and when you let out a whine at how many steps there were, Sukuna could have died happily right then and there.

It was easy to build the furniture he bought, but it wasn’t easy to work with you. There was no problem with your actual work, but the fact that Sukuna had to be so close to you at times, nearly hugging you when he had to hold up a piece for you to put a few screws in, it was too much to handle.

He quickly banished you to work on another project. It was your fault he kept getting distracted and forgetting what step he was on, so the only solution was to work on separate things. Plus, watching you flit around his house, hearing you change the bed sheets and lay down a new mat in the bathroom made him feel like you were newlyweds decorating your first home together.

“It looks so good in here!” It was well past dark when you finished everything. It truly did look like a brand new space, and not just in the living room. The touches you’d added, with bright pillows, fake plants and some actual art on the walls, made Sukuna happy to be home. His place finally felt like a home and not just somewhere to crash at the end of the day.

“You did a great job picking shit out, I woulda never been able to do all this.” Putting his arm around your shoulder, he gave you a squeeze.

“Are you gonna do a house tour when the couch and table come?” A house tour? Why would he do that? Knitting his brows together, Sukuna sent you a look. “C’mon, you know what a house tour is! All the popular Youtubers do them.” You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. “And aren’t you a popular Youtuber?”

“I-” Well, you had him beat there. His subscriber count was well into the millions at this point. “Okay, I’ll do one when the rest of the stuff comes.”

“Yes!” Bouncing up and down in joy, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll help you film, I know how bad you are at angles.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better!”

In a week, you were back at his place, more excited than him to film this video. You’d helped prepare a little script should he need it, and you were fluffing all the pillows so they looked nice on camera.

“Let’s have an entryway shot, those always look so cool!”

“Whatever you say.” Sukuna was merely a puppet on your strings, maneuvering however you saw fit. He made his hands as steady as possible getting b-roll shots of everything in advance.

“If you forget what to say, remember I made a script!” With that final warning, you were standing at the entrance to his apartment and waving your hand. “Okay, start!”

“Hi people on the internet. This is my house tour that (Y/N) is making me do.”

“Shut up!” You laughed behind the camera, trying not to shake it.

“This is my kitchen and dining room, (Y/N) picked out the table and chairs for me.” Doing a sweep over the kitchen, he transitioned to the living room. “And this is the lounge room, where (Y/N) picked out the couch and rug, and my desk stuff over there.”

“Yeah, Sukuna had no rugs in his apartment before!”

“Mhmm.” Somehow Sukuna managed to not stumble over his words, easily recalling parts of the script you had written for him. Highlighting the fake plants and cheap art on the walls, the two of you stood in the bathroom together.

“Look, it’s us!” You waved to the camera in the mirror, nudging your shoulder with Sukuna. Suddenly, the image of getting ready in the morning with you or winding down after a long day together in the bath flashed before Sukunas eyes. What would it be like to come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and join you? Give you a shoulder massage under the hot running water, or to brush his teeth and tell you to hurry up and not waste water.

“And this is the bedroom.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, Sukuna hid his blush with his hand as he entered the room.

“Hold this.” Shoving the camera in his hands, you leapt onto the bed. “This is where I sleep!” Your laugh was easy and you rolled around his bed a few times, simply having fun wrinkling the sheets.

“Uh- w-wha-” Sukuna nearly dropped the camera in shock. Seeing you in his bed, even if it was just on top of the sheets fully clothed, made his heart stop. Gripping the camera hard in his suddenly sweaty hands, Sukuna nearly tossed it to the side and joined you.

“Just kidding!” You were already climbing out of bed as soon as that thought entered his head. “But isn’t this room pretty? I picked out most of the stuff in here too.” Just like that you were back to normal, talking about some random print on the wall that he’d ordered per your suggestion.

Needless to say, Sukuna had a hard time falling asleep that night, the image of you in his bed burned into his mind like it was the only thought he’d ever have again. His imagination was going wild, and he tossed and turned all night - even after relieving some tension.

With his new desk setup, Sukuna felt motivated to edit the video as fast as he could. What you said about improving his living quarters was true; now that his place looked nice, he felt nice in turn. He even left in the part where you jumped on his bed, adding a funny break in the video like you’d shown him.

��IT’S CONFIRMED. IT’S CONFIRMED. THEY’RE DATING’

‘sirpohdjb my ship has sailed!!’

‘I come here to see why sukunax(Y/N) is trending and it’s this bullshit?? Y’all need to get a life’

Sukuna often felt like a fool when he was with you, and sometime after as well. Even from the first comment he left on your Instagram, he knew people shipped you together and wanted you to date. He felt embarrassed more times than not, but it seemed he never learned his lesson. That scene of you on his bed had gone viral and he regretted leaving it in.

But could you blame him? You made his head spin, most of the time leaving him incapable of doing anything else beside standing in his place looking stupid. It was hard to edit the videos you did together because reliving the footage made him dizzy all over again.

(Y/N): SUKUNA. ANSWER ME ITS URGENT

It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and Sukuna had nothing better to do than laze around and do nothing. Except now, he was texting you back with his heart suddenly pounding.

Sukuna: what?! Is something wrong where are you??

So much adrenaline was coursing through his body that he had started to shake.

(Y/N): I just got a great idea, I need to know if you’ll do a video with me!

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna said out loud, staring at his phone in disbelief. This is what was so urgent? Nearly sending him into an early grave for a possible video?

Sukuna: what the fuck I thought it was serious

Sukuna: I thought you were in trouble

He wasn’t upset per say, but Sukuna was definitely annoyed.

(Y/N): sorry :( i didn’t mean to scare you

Sukuna: you did more than scare me

(Y/N): I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!

Now Sukuna felt bad and it wasn’t even his fault. In all the time you’d known each other, you never had a negative interaction. He waited five minutes for you to text something, but you didn’t and it was making him anxious all over again.

Sukuna: well tell me what the idea is

(Y/N): no, it’s okay it was a stupid idea anyway

It took you another five minutes to respond, and your answer made Sukuna groan.

Sukuna: you got me all worked up and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?

He had to rectify the situation somehow.

(Y/N): I just thought...of maybe doing your makeup for a video?

Sukuna: what

(Y/N): I told you it was stupid! Just forget it

Sukuna: shut up it’s not stupid

As typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared, Sukuna could just imagine the way your cheeks puffed out indignantly.

(Y/N): here’s a link to someone else who did it with her boyfriend, they had so much fun together!

(Y/N): let me know if you wanna do it, I think it could be a lot of fun…

Sukuna only needed to look at the thumbnail to know he would say yes. The two people on the screen were very close, with the girl nearly touching her boyfriend's face with her own. They had big smiles on their faces as well, and that enticed him more.

Sukuna: I’ll do it

(Y/N): really?? That’s awesome! Come over to my place on Friday, we’ll order pizza and make a day of it!

And that’s how Sukuna found himself in your filming room, stomach full of pizza with a disgustingly cute green frog headband keeping his hair back. He’d seen this room a hundred times in the backgrounds of your videos, but now he was actually here. There were even more plushies than appeared on camera and you had a humidifier going in the corner.

“Okay now stay still, I’m going to wipe a toner on your face.” He had no idea what that meant, watching you with curious eyes pick up a bottle from the table in front of you and dab the liquid onto a cotton pad. “Usually I use my hands to apply toner, but we wanna wipe the dust off.”

With a gentle hand, you held Sukuna by the chin and swiped the cotton across his face, it’s soft chemical scent wafting into his nose. It felt nice, having you apply toner and moisturizer on his face. The most he ever applied was sunscreen, but maybe he could convince you to do his skincare for him every day.

“So today, I chose this makeup look by Beyoncés makeup artist! It’s a really popular style called ‘soft glam’.” Sukuna nodded along with you like he understood what you meant, taking a glance at the picture on your phone before you showed it to the camera. “I think Sukuna would really fit this kind of look, he is a natural beauty afterall.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, a light flush heating his cheeks.

“It’s true! There’s so many comments under your house tour video saying how good you look with the new furniture.” You spoke about the new makeup you bought for the video as you applied the products. Sukuna tried to keep up with what you were doing and saying, but he couldn’t really contribute anything to the conversation about makeup.

“Tuck your lips in so you don’t get foundation in your mouth.”

“What?” He jerked away right as you lifted the small dish you had with what he assumed was foundation.

“I don’t think you want to eat makeup, do you?” You chuckled and pat him on the cheek. “Tuck your lips in.” Doing as you asked, Sukuna flinched when you gripped the back of his head. “Try not to move too much, I want it to be even.”

As you applied the foundation and subsequently the concealer and powder, Sukuna barely moved. In fact, he barely breathed. You had leaned in far closer than you’ve ever been to him, your breath lightly fanning over his face as you worked to smooth everything out.

The hand on the back of his head dipped down to rest at the base of his neck, your body coming to lean more onto him as time went by. You were speaking, Sukuna could hear it, but he wasn’t responding. The excuse was he didn’t want to mess you up, but in truth he couldn’t find any words to say.

“Look at you!” Holding up a mirror for him, you laughed at his shocked face. “How do you like it?”

“I look so flat.” Turning his head side to side, Sukuna lifted a hand to touch his face.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up!” Snatching his hand away, you held it tightly in your grasp. Sukuna was thankful for the layer of makeup he had on now, no one could see his blush.

“What’s next? This eyeshadow shit?” He picked up a product on a whim, opening it up and staring at it. “Why’s there only two colors? Why are both of them brown?”

“That’s contour, we’ll get to that! This is the eyeshadow!”

Putting eyeshadow on Sukuna was harder than both of you thought. Not used to the feeling of the brush, he twitched every time it was swiped across his eyelid. Through plenty of trial and error, and many times of you telling him to just take a deep breath, you got through it.

“I’m gonna have to cut out so much of you flinching.” You teased, checking the camera to make sure everything was still working.

“I don’t get how you can do this shit, it’s fucking awful.” All Sukuna wanted to do was rub his eyes and face until his skin went raw.

“We aren’t even at the worst part yet: eyeliner.” Taking a seat, you lifted up a simple black pen.

“Oh god.” Hanging his head, Sukuna said a quick prayer for his eyes before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Sukuna, I gotta ask you something.”

“What is it?” Cracking an eye open, you were looking at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Can I...I need to sit in your lap to do eyeliner.” Sukuna audibly and quite loudly gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “When I help my friends with eyeliner I sit in their laps! It’s just easier that way!”

“I-I uhm- okay?” He eventually forced the word out, copying your movements and turning his chair to face yours. “What uh- what should I…?”

“Sit still.” Pulling your chair flush with his, you pushed Sukuna’s legs closed and scooted up his thighs until your butt was firmly seated on him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you uncapped the eyeliner. “There, now I can get started.”

Sukuna was in so much shock, he didn’t move. Even when the eyeliner tickled the inner corner of his eye, even when you moved his hands to rest near your lower back so you wouldn’t slide off, even when you did the bottom lashline, he was frozen.

If this is what heaven looked like for him, he would gladly take it and never leave. Your face was so close, he could feel it even when his eyes were closed. The soft skin of your hand held his powdered cheek gently, keeping yourself steady as you drew the lines on his eyes.

“All done.” You whispered. Sukuna opened his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat; your face was close enough that if he tried to focus too hard he’d go cross eyed. You weren’t paying attention to his reaction at all, too focused on making sure his eyes were even.

The rest of the time went by in a blur. You’d slid off his lap after that, diving right into putting more powders on his cheeks. Swiping thick gloss on his lips is what drew him out of his stupor and into another one as you once again held his chin, swiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb when you were done.

“Sukuna, you look so good!” You said with a slight whine, showing all angles of his face off to the camera before showing him. “You have to promise when you get rich and famous and become a global celebrity that you won’t forget about me.”

“Shut up, you know I won’t.” He said with a smirk, swiping the mirror from you. “(Y/N)...I look fucking hot.” Bursting into laughter, you wiped imaginary sweat off your brow.

“Well I guess I don’t have to ask how you like it!” Patting him on the back, you got up to stretch and check the camera one last time.

“Would you fuck me, ‘cause I’d fuck me.” Sukuna said to himself, striking a few poses in the mirror and for the camera. “Hey, you watching this video you better fucking share this with all your friends. Everyone needs to see how hot I am.”

“We should have ordered you some clothes, turned you into an Instagram baddie!” You teased from behind the camera.

“Please, I don’t need fancy clothes when I’m this sexy.” Running a hand through his hair, Sukuna pointed the mirror at you. “Be honest (Y/N), you wanna date me right now. I look so hot, I bet I’m gonna have thousands of DM’s.” Sukuna’s confidence was the highest it's ever been around you. For some reason, the makeup gave him more assurance.

“Well let me know when to schedule a date with you then, I’d love to grab dinner sometime.”

“I’ll have my assistant pencil you in.” He joked, looking back at himself in the mirror. Sitting back down, you ended the video and made Sukuna wave to the camera. Not turning off the lights you used to film, you made him snap several pictures with you.

“This video was so much fun, Sukuna, thank you!” Rocking back and forth in your seat, you had a demure look while you fiddled with your phone. “And I wasn’t joking about dinner. I really like you, Sukuna.” That made Sukuna stop in his tracks, nearly throwing the mirror down in shock as he turned to look at you.

“Huh?!”

“I-I mean- I mean I like hanging out with you!” Obviously embarrassed, you leaped from your seat and began turning the filming lights off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Both yours and Sukunas faces were burning with embarrassment, awkwardly not looking at each other.

“(Y/N)...” Sukuna half stood from his chair, forcing himself to move despite how awkward he felt. “I-”

“Let’s wash off that makeup now, I bet it’s uncomfortable.” Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you went to the door. “I’ll show you what to use in the bathroom.”

The tension in the air was thick after that, and it remained that way for a few days after. Sukuna knew what he heard, he saw how your face looked as you said you liked him, he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But it obviously wasn’t something you were ready to say, as evident as you not texting him as much as you usually did.

When the video went up, Sukuna immediately felt butterflies in his stomach all over again watching it. Reminded of how close you were to him made him ache to have you near him, and seeing you sitting on his lap had another feeling rising in his stomach, warming him up in an embarrassing way.

He patrolled the comments as usual, but there were no mean ones that he could yell at. All of them were screaming about how the video just confirms that the two of you are dating, and surprisingly they weren’t calling out him for looking like he was in love with you.

The comments teased you this time, keen longtime viewers of yours pointing out specific timestamps where you looked embarrassed or looked like you wanted to kiss him. Sukuna checked out every single one, liking the comment for showing him that what you said earlier wasn’t a mistake.

Ever since that day, it seemed like you were promoting on Instagram and Twitter a lot more. Sukuna already had notifications turned on for all your socials and there was a definite uptick in your content posted to those platforms.

There were more sponsored posts and polls posted asking your followers for style advice, and which beauty items they preferred more. Sukuna was happy to see you got an increase in brand deals from the video you did together, a video that had now easily reached five million views and counting. He congratulated you whenever he saw a sponsored post, sending you cute little emojis along with the praise.

All week you had been hinting that there was a big announcement coming, a major event in your life that you were so excited to share with everyone. Sukuna, along with all your other followers, ate up all the crumbs you left throughout the week. Many suspected you were going to go work for a designer label, while others assumed you’d announce a sudden marriage.

(Y/N): Sukuna, check Instagram!

You texted him in the evening on Friday, but he didn’t need the update. He was already on your page when the post was dropped, waiting impatiently for the picture to load.

“A TV show, huh?” As he read the promo photo, he smiled. Appearing on a TV show was a big opportunity for you, one that was sure to lead to many more. Your role wasn’t stated in the photo, but your promo picture was a professional one no doubt taken at a studio.

“Wait, what?” When Sukuna got to the caption, he took a pause. Why were you going on a dating show? He read the words over and over, hoping for a different outcome each time. But there was no denying you’d be going on a dating show.

Checking out the show's page, Sukuna let out a groan. All the male contestants were hot and not even he could deny it. Some had muscles like he did, others were more unconventionally attractive.

Sukuna: you’re going on a dating show?

It took him a while to text you back. In fact, it took nearly thirty minutes for him to text you. Sukuna had gone through all five stages of grief several times, coming back to being in denial over and over again.

Dragging his feet to his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine that one of his rich clients at the gym gifted him. Popping the cork, he collapsed onto his couch and took a long drink from the bottle.

(Y/N): yeah, I’m super nervous!

Sukuna: I bet

Oh, did he fucking bet. He’d gone through all the male contestants' Instagram pages, trying to talk them down in an attempt to lessen the blow that he could potentially lose you to one of them. Why did he have to wait so long to confess to you? Now the chance was gone, possibly forever.

(Y/N): what do you think about the show? I was kind of scared to take the deal

You didn’t want to know how he really felt.

Sukuna: it’s a great opportunity, great for exposure and it’s a lot of money

(Y/N): that’s true!! I’ll have to treat you to dinner with my first TV check!

Just great, a chance for you to gush about whoever you met on the dating show. Taking another long drink from the bottle, Sukuna crumpled even more into his couch. Back were the stages of grief, each emotion washing over him until he mustered up the courage to do something about it.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, confused as to why Sukuna called you instead of replying to your messages.

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name firmly, honing in on a spot in the ceiling. Swallowing around a growing lump in his throat, Sukuna forced the next words out. “I like you. I-I really, really like you.”

“What?” He could hear you gasp over the phone.

“I know, what kind of asshole confesses to you when you’re about to go on a TV dating show?” He chuckled, taking a deep breath. “But it’s true. I wanna be your boyfriend, (Y/N). I know it’s too late to back out of the show but-”

“Sukuna-”

“No, let me say this. I know it’s too late to back out, and-”

“Sukuna!”

“And I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone better suited-”

“Sukuna!”

“Better suited for you than me. I’m just a dumb, muscled up chump that-”

“Sukuna I’m a stylist, not a contestant!” You were finally able to get a word in, face flushed from the sudden onslaught of emotions going through you. Sukuna was silent on the other end, mouth hanging open as he processed the words.

“Y-you’re a...a stylist? So you won’t be dating any of them?” He whispered after a few moments, the shock starting to wear off and being replaced with humiliation.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the styling team.” Your voice also dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words beginning to settle down on the both of you.

“Oh god.” Putting the bottle down, Sukuna slapped himself in the forehead. He had never felt like a bigger idiot than in this moment. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, just- just forget it.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to forget it. I...I want you to be my boyfriend too, Sukuna.” There was a pregnant pause, and you could practically hear Sukuna’s brain working overdrive.

“Let’s go out on a date!” He shouted, pushing himself off the couch and to a shaky stand. “I’m free whenever, let’s go on a date!” The alcohol was definitely affecting him more than he first thought, and Sukuna fell back down onto the couch.

“Really? Okay, how about tomorrow? That’s like the only day with good weather for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Sleeping restlessly through the night, Sukuna woke up way earlier than his alarm. Taking an obscene amount of time getting ready, he was still early to your house. Taking a lap around the block, he went to a flower shop and bought you a handful of flowers.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, almost meek as you entered his car.

“Hey. I got you these.” Handing you the flowers, Sukuna bit his lip nervously.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Gently hugging them to your chest, your nerves began to melt away and you smiled, making Sukuna smile as well.

Sukuna once again had you pick the cafe you were going to. This one was in a bustling downtown street, not in the middle of the countryside, and as you two walked down the street there were couples passing you left and right.

Snagging an outdoor seat, Sukuna went inside to order for you. This cafe, unlike the last, actually served coffee and Sukuna was quick to get a large cup of it. Buying a few croissants cutely decorated with various creams, he went back outside.

“Say, you’re really cute, why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?” An unknown man was standing near your table, and Sukuna caught the tail end of his sentence.

“N-no, I’m good.” Your eyes were glued to your lap, obviously uncomfortable with the attention you were receiving.

“Aw, really? A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be all alone!” The man had a sleazy grin on his face, visibly eyeing you up in a salacious manner. “My name is-”

“Baby, who’s this guy?” Sukuna had had enough. Stepping right up to the table, he nearly slammed the tray in his hands down on the table. Your head shot up, relief flashing across your face.

“Who are you?” The man scoffed, curling his lip in disgust.

“I’m their boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” Puffing up his chest a little bit, Sukuna stared the man down.

“Boyfriend? They didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend.” The man attempted to look at you again, but Sukuna beat him to it and caught your eye instead.

“Geez baby, I know we had that fight before we came but I’m hurt! If I get rid of this creep, will you call me your boyfriend again?” Laying a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, Sukuna gave it a squeeze.

“Y-you’re always gonna be my boyfriend, dummy.”

“That just warms my heart!” Sighing loudly, Sukuna gave the man a not so subtle push away from the table. “Well, you heard ‘em. Get lost, you worthless sack of shit.” Grumbling, the man walked away and Sukuna took his rightful seat next to you.

“Thank you.” Immediately, you latched onto him, squeezing his arm in a tight hug as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Wrapping you up more tightly in a hug, Sukuna pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I would have beat him up if you wanted. Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Sukuna, you are a man.” You laughed lightly.

“Exactly my point.” Rubbing a hand on your back, Sukuna picked up one of the croissants. “I hope you like these because I can already tell it’ll be too sweet for me.” You laughed again and sat up, keeping your face close to his.

“I have something sweet for you too, I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” Quirking a brow, Sukuna jumped when you planted your lips on his. The kiss didn’t last long and the taste of your lip balm and feel of your lips was permanently engraved into Sukunas brain.

“There.” Your cheeks were absolutely on fire, shame rolling off of you in waves at having your first kiss in a crowded cafe on a busy day in the city. It wasn’t even a particularly romantic setting, but something spurred you to do it.

“W-what the hell! You can’t just do that!” Sukuna gasped, his own cheeks burning a deep, scalding red. “You gotta warn a guy first!” His dramatics were drawing attention from the other patrons, making the situation even worse.

“Sshh, you’re being too loud!”

“Like I care! Kiss me again, I’m ready this time!” Grabbing you by the shoulders, Sukuna tried to kiss you.

“W-wait, there’s people watching!”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s watching!” Grabbing your chin, Sukuna kissed you much firmer than when you kissed him. It lasted longer as well, bordering on too long for what is accepted in public. “There.” Pulling away slightly out of breath, Sukuna sat back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re so embarrassing.” You whined, hiding your face in your hands and hitting Sukuna with your head.

“All I’m hearing is how great of a boyfriend I am.”

“No you’re not.” You countered, getting wrapped in a side hug by Sukuna.

“It’s debatable.” Picking up the croissant he dropped, Sukuna took a bite. “Hm, this is sweet but not as sweet as that kiss you gave me.”

“Sukuna!”

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years ago

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 6

The final part!! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion! Thank you so much to everyone who has reblogged/commented/shared - it has meant so much. Special thank you again to @morganofthewildfire I'd still be working away at this fic if it wasn't for you, I don't know I ever would have finished it off. Your comments and analysis helped me so much and made this fic better than I could have alone, I'm so grateful.

13k - masterlist - ao3

There are five weeks between the eventful wrap party and her first day shooting the Netflix miniseries in Antica. Five weeks for Aelin to sort her shit.

It’s ambitious, and probably unattainable, but she needs a goal.

She needs something to draw her mind away from Rifthold and the director she knows is no longer there.

She gives herself a week of self pity. A week of lying around her sparsely decorated and impersonal Orynth apartment dwelling and pointedly ignoring the headlines she knows have been released. Elide let her know only one picture was captured of her with tears in her eyes leaving the party. Only one and gods bless Elide she shut it down.

Aelin lies on her uncomfortable couch in well-worn pyjamas with unwashed hair and runs through the photos on her phone of her and Fenrys, her and Manon, and the group of them together on set doing whatever shit they used to do.

She spends more time than she should like that. She sits there until her coffee table is overflowing with takeaway wrappers and Aedion and Elide have stopped texting more than once a day. She’s awful for ignoring them but she’s still mortified.

She hasn’t been able to look Aedion in the eyes since he dropped her back at her apartment after their long flight home from Rifthold. He didn’t say much. After he managed to again get her out of the party with minimal press she had cried, curled up between Aedion and Lysandra in their bed, and he didn’t offer judgement or instruction.

He just held her, whispering words she can’t remember but appreciates anyway. Now she hasn’t replied to any of his texts.

She hasn’t texted Fenrys or Manon either. She doesn’t know what to say.

She knows Fenrys jumped immediately into another movie, an action movie she knows he’s been chomping at the bit to get training for, and Manon into the second series of her show that she’s probably too famous for now.

They’re busy. They’ll understand. At least that’s what she tells herself.

The worst thing she does in that week is pour over the photos she has of Rowan. She didn’t realise she had so many but her camera roll is full of silver and green.

There are photos of just him, looking like Rowan, tall and handsome and understatedly happy, smiling covert little smiles at Aelin behind the camera. He was used to her instructing him to pose by the end of filming, she loved snapping away as he did anything. Eating, sleeping, smiling, everything - if it was Rowan she wanted it captured.

Now every photo is a knife to the chest.

The ones of the two of them together are worse, they twist the knife, pain splicing through her until she can hardly breathe. There are pictures of their cheeks pressed together, eyes shining, some serious, some silly. In all of them Aelin can clearly see her own happiness.

She can’t stop looking at them even as tears swell in her eyes and her throat gets tight.

For one week.

Until it’s been seven days since her flight landed back in Orynth and she gets up off her couch and deletes them. She almost doesn’t, her thumb hovers over the button for a good minute before she presses down but then it’s done and they’re gone. She showers and changes her clothes, she throws away all the rubbish on her coffee table and makes a plan.

Filming the movie with all of them it was easy to feel better than she did before, surrounded by new and exciting things, new people who didn’t know her before or treat her differently because of it. It was easy to lose herself in who she was there and with them.

Now though, she’s back to real life and real life lasts for an uneventful three weeks.

She tries what she can, she reads, she runs, she bakes, she teaches herself how to knit. None of it is satisfying and it's hard to make it stick. It’s all boring and never quite captures her attention the way she hopes. Never captures her attention enough to tear it away from Rowan and Rifthold.

A week before she flies out to Antica it changes.

She stumbles upon the change, completely accidentally, and she doesn’t realise what she’s needed until it's right in front of her.

Her usual run route is obstructed by construction and so she takes a left where she usually takes a right, heading down into the west side of the city, the side she doesn’t often frequent.

She used to. She used to spend hours strolling the streets letting the warmth of the sun and Sam’s hand in hers settle into her skin as they observed the numerous bakeries and small boutiques. Thankfully the scenery appears to have changed since.

The chill breeze of the September Orynth air teases the loose strands of hair tickling her face as she comes to a stop outside the sleek shop front. The wooden panels are painted a dark, glossy black and the windows are polished so brightly they reflect what’s left of the sunlight.

Music of Mistward the sign reads in curved, white lettering.

She can see her reflection in the shop window, her cheeks flushed, hair unruly, her running gear nowhere near to what would be appropriate attire for the shop dripping in class but she can’t turn away.

A bell tinkles as she pushes through the door, her headphones gripped tight in her fist as the gentle jazz playing over the sound system greets her. She doesn’t like jazz, it’s not her thing, but along with the musk of wood in the air it’s soothing in welcoming her in.

She passes walls of guitars and violins until she reaches the instrument that caught her eye. It’s sleek, black lid propped open revealing the elegant strings, pulled tight in neat lines. The sharp contrast of the keys against each other, bright against the deep black of the case. Her fingers ghost over them, dying to press down.

She hasn’t played since those days in Rowan’s Doranelle home. She’s wanted to, longed to feel the cool keys under her fingertips and the flood of the music pouring out of her, but the cheap keyboard in her Orynth apartment wouldn’t do Rowan’s beautiful instrument justice.

Aelin would rather not play at all than attempt a cheap imitation of what she felt there.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice sounds behind her, low and raspy but cheerful all the same.

She turns, taking in the older man, his grey hair cut short and his classic shirt and slacks pressed crisp. She glances back to the piano before facing him fully.

“Stunning,” she breathes.

The man steps forwards and offers her his hand. She slips her hand into his and he pumps firmly as he introduces himself.

“Emrys,” he says. “Welcome to Music of Mistward.”

“Aelin,” she says, surprised to hear her voice thick.

“Great to meet you, Aelin,” Emrys says with an ancient smile. He nods towards the piano. “Do you play?”

“No,” she says and Emrys’ smile flickers. “Yes, I mean I used to. I want to,” is what she settles on.

He nods, satisfied, before taking a step closer to the piano. He runs a hand over the top, almost reverently and smiles to himself.

“Antique,” he starts, “almost one hundred years old but well loved. I acquired it recently - here we deal mostly in antique instruments, it’s a passion for both myself and my husband. The previous owner only sold it to me when she inherited it and didn’t know how to play, she wanted it to find a good home.”

He shares a smile with her as if she’s in on the joke but her breathing still hasn’t settled.

“Satin Ebony finish,” Emrys continues, “eighty-eight keys, all original but preserved to the highest quality. Accompanying bench, cut with refreshed velvet. I don’t know in all my years I’ve seen such a fine instrument as old as this.”

Aelin glances back to the piano, it’s big, it won’t fit in her apartment in Orynth but she doesn’t care. She can… adjust. She hasn’t felt a pull like this in a while, she doesn’t want to deny it when she does.

“How much?” she almost demands from the man in front of her.

He appraises her and she knows what he sees. Her bedraggled state and the tension through her shoulders doesn’t give the impression of someone with this much cash to throw around. She abruptly ignores that the way she probably can afford this is because of Rowan’s movie.

When he doesn’t speak she repeats herself, more firmly. “How much?”

“Our price includes delivery and tuning on arrival.” He seems apprehensive of telling her the truth. Aelin waits.

When he finally reveals the figure Aelin blinks. And then she extends her hand. “I’ll take it.”

To his credit Emrys just nods, shaking her hand. “You don’t want to at least play it first?”

Aelin feels the smirk she hasn’t worn in a while creep onto her face. “Is there a risk you’re pulling a fast one on me?”

Emrys returns her smile, a playful glint in his eye. “Not a chance, Aelin. Please follow me to the register where I can take your details.”

Aelin almost stumbles. Almost, but then recovers.

“Any chance I can pay a deposit and then let you know where you’ll be delivering sometime soon?”

Emrys winks knowingly. “Absolutely.”

She follows him to the counter, signs away part of a disgustingly large total of money but leaves with a sense of satisfaction. It’s an accomplishment, a step for purely selfish reasons.

The first thing she does when she leaves the shop is call Elide.

Aelin meets her new therapist two days before she flies out to Antica.

She hasn’t called her old one in months and thinks that’s probably a sign. And she’s all about changes at the moment.

She isn’t shooting in Antica for too long, only a couple of months until she’s back in Orynth and then back to Rifthhold for press. Her stomach drops everytime the thought wanders into her head.

She’s excited to be back in Rifthold, but the company is daunting.

Fenrys and Manon will easily be pissed at her disappearance. She knows Manon will play aloof but she also knows she’ll be upset, Fenrys too. Aelin didn’t mean to hurt them, didn’t mean to drop off the face of the Earth, and she knows she’s let them down but Fenrys and Manon remind her of Rowan. She couldn’t trust the conversation not to eventually steer towards him and Aelin isn’t ready for that.

Their break-up feels weirdly anticlimactic. After everything they built to, Aelin just dipped.

She knows it seems that way to Rowan at least. She hasn’t texted him, or rang him or anything since the party. She’s wanted to, wanted more than anything to hear his voice as she cried, but it’s not fair to him to drag it out and she knows that. She knew when she drew the line she had to stay on her side of it, no matter how much it hurt.

She had cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. She cried until her eyes itched with no tears left to fall, until all that came out of her was hoarse screeches as she ached to hear him call her Fireheart one last time.

But no one needs to know that, she had kept it as hidden as she could.

She definitely didn’t need any more paparazzi pictures of her with red-rimmed eyes looking downtrodden. She couldn’t bear the thought of Rowan, or worse her mother, seeing them.

She knows Fenrys and Manon; Aedion, Lysandra and Elide would see through her flimsy excuses and so it was easier to stay quiet.

She’s not thinking about facing them yet. She supposes that will be something that likely comes up with this new therapist, but so far on her own, she’s choosing avoidance.

She gets Maeve’s number from Dorian, and she comes highly recommended by a number of Dorian’s other high profile clients. She’s well-versed in non-disclosure agreements, secret sessions and back street exits; she feels like the perfect fit for Aelin.

Unofficially, Dorian lets her know Maeve takes no shit, and that’s also just what Aelin needs.

They agree to online sessions while she’s in Antica, but Maeve recommended an initial meeting and Aelin is open to all of her suggestions.

Their first hour is not directly her most life changing but it’s a start.

“Welcome, Aelin,” Maeve says, sweeping an arm out towards the firm-looking, orange couch in the centre of the room.

Aelin takes a seat, mutters her thanks and glances around the room.

The room should feel cold with the exposed brick and minimalistic decor, the only furniture being the couch Aelin perches on, the almost regal armchair Maeve reclines in and a lamp, but it doesn’t and she gets comfortable tucking her feet beneath her thighs and leaning against the arm.

“So,” Maeve begins, surveying her in the way only a true professional can. “Let’s get started.”

Aelin feels bare beneath her gaze, and like everything about Maeve and her practise it should be unnerving but she just blinks against the scrutiny.

“Why are you here today? You could start with sharing why you have made this appointment.”

And isn’t that the million gold-mark question?

Aelin takes a deep breath through her nose and raises her chin.

“I don’t want to move backwards,” she admits. “Or maybe I just want to know I’ve actually moved forwards.”

Maeve’s expression stays calm, but Aelin knows she’d be smirking if she could. She’s well aware of how therapy works but even so, speaking her thoughts aloud can help to verify them in her own mind.

Aelin hopes so at least.

Their hour is over quickly and Aelin is resolved that Maeve is a good fit, reassured in Dorian’s claim that the woman takes no shit. Her all-knowing assessment of Aelin should have been unsettling but the frank dissection is what she needs.

Online therapy, especially fitting it around shooting might be a challenge but it’s for the best. As much as she values her independence and standing on her own two feet, Aelin is big enough to admit that facing her mother again may require some professional guidance. Seeing Rowan too, but again, she’s not thinking about that yet.

Antica is hot and Aelin is sweaty within seconds of stepping out of the air-conditioned luxury of the airport. That feeling lasts the entire time she’s there, disrupting the otherwise enjoyable time she has shooting the series.

Her new co-stars are fine, they invite her out with them and make her smile but she can’t help as though a part of her is always comparing them to who and what she left in Rifthold. Aelin tries her best to enjoy her time there with them, she hosts dinner parties and invites them to a game of Aedion’s but nothing quite hits the same as her time spent on The Crescent City.

She rationalises it to Maeve, that The Crescent City was a big turning point in her life and that it has nothing to do with Rowan, Fenrys or Manon, but she’s not sure she even believes it herself.

She spends the rest of her time in Antica trying to convince herself, and Maeve, that she’s moving past it. That she’s moving forwards or else she’ll move backwards. She’s not sure how much of it is futile.

The Crescent City is done, whether she likes it or not, and she can’t deny it changed her in ways she didn’t expect. It’s a hard pill to swallow that maybe it changed her beyond return to how she was before. She also can’t quite figure out whether she thinks that’s a bad thing or not.

They have a dinner for the core cast and crew, including Rowan, once they’re all back in Rifthold for the beginning of the press cycle. They have one night to reacquaint before they’re shoved into the whirlwind that is interviews, photoshoots and promotion.

She’s seen the trailer already and it’s just as she expected but more. It’s dark and dreary with flashes of brightness from herself and Fenrys and she’d want to watch it if she chanced a viewing as a member of the public.

What is surreal, is to see herself in a polished version of the film they were creating. Or at least a part of it.

She said each of the lines, rehearsed them over and over until they fell off her tongue without thought, but she still doesn’t recognise the girl in the trailer. A droplet of pride slips down her chest at the realisation that it’s not Aelin in the trailer but Feyre. She knows she’s good, has known it all along, but the realisation and reaffirmation is ecstasy better than any drug.

She hovers outside the restaurant, watching through the window, needing a couple more seconds before she submits herself to the assault of them all again. She still hasn’t replied to either Fenrys or Manon and the thought presses on her like lead but it’s too late to change that now.

If she’s honest she’s concerning herself with Fenrys and Manon in the hopes of distracting herself from the fact that she’s seconds away from Rowan. Seconds away from him in the flesh, his solid body in front of her that she had learned almost as well as her own.

Her palms are clammy and she wipes them against the fabric of her trousers. The upcoming interviews and photoshoots will all be styled for her and so she’s relishing in her last moments for a while of truly dressing like Aelin.

She takes a step towards the restaurant door, the tip of her trainer bumping the wood when a voice sounds behind her.

“Well, hello there, Stranger.”

Aelin braces herself, hand paused outstretched where it had been reaching for the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she faces Fenrys. He looks the same as he did, skin still golden, eyes still dancing with mischief, but his golden curls are trimmed shorter than the last time she saw him. His expression is carefully blank.

“I- Hi… um,” she stumbles over the words. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenrys breaks almost immediately. “Oh thank the fucking gods.”

He surges forwards and wraps her into a tight hug. Aelin clings to him, fighting the tears in her eyes as she buries her face in his chest. She’s gone far too long without this, without him, and it’s all her own fault.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” Fenrys asks. “Oh wait, no you don’t. I’m assuming your phone broke, or was stolen or something since you never replied to any of my texts letting you know.”

Aelin knows her cheeks are stained pink. “I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I know.” His voice softens, losing the teasing edge as he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He pauses before he speaks again, his eyes running over her face. “You could have texted me anytime, you know. Manon too. I know you might forget or try to convince yourself otherwise, but we are your friends. You could have called us about literally anything.”

Aelin feels like she could cry. She’s not sure that she isn’t.

“It doesn’t have to be about anything serious, especially not related to the movie,” or Rowan he doesn’t say but Aelin hears it. “We just wanted to hear your stupid voice.”

Aelin pouts. “My voice isn’t stupid.”

She pokes her tongue out as he rolls his eyes, easily falling back into the dynamic they had shaped a few months ago.

“Not what I meant,” he says before pausing, taking her in as she stands in front of him. “You can’t lose us that easily, you know. We’re like rats or fleas or something. Hard to get rid of.”

“Nice,” she comments, but her chest is tight at his words.

He smiles at her before adding, “and you had fucking better text me back.”

Aelin laughs through the sniffles he’s kindly ignoring. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and finds his contact. Hi she sends and feels his phone buzz against her.

“Much better,” he says and releases her from his arms. “Now, are you ready for a night of the finest dining all on the studio credit card?”

Aelin laughs again. “Lead the way.”

He shoots her a wink and waltzes ahead to hold the door open for her.

Fenrys’ presence shouldn’t reassure her the way it does, especially after the way she has treated him but she clings to him anyway. He’s her buffer for now, a crutch for tonight and tonight only. Once tonight is over and tomorrow begins she and Rowan can be professional, they managed it for months during filming and this should be no different.

Rowan still looks the way he did the night she broke his heart.

His silver hair falls elegantly over his forehead as he bends his head to talk to Manon, the pair of them are engrossed in a conversation as she and Fenrys walk over, not spotting them yet. She loves his hair, loves the thick silver waves and the way they feel between her fingers. She loves the way any attempt he makes to arrange the thick strands is never quite able to tame the beast. She loves the shirt he has on, with the sleeves rolled up exposing inches of tanned skin and dark ink, the same worn green cotton she wore numerous times around his living room all those months ago. She can still remember the feel of it against her bare skin.

His smile is the same, his green eyes crinkling as his lips barely part as he does his best to hold it back.

His smile is the same until he spots her.

He catches sight of her when she reaches the table and his smile drops, the shutters closing over his expression so fast she wouldn’t know he knew how to smile had she not just seen it.

It tears her chest in two and any attempt at a smile on her part is futile. It’s all she can do to make it to her seat without stumbling and she’s sure she misses any other greetings she gets as she slumps onto the chair opposite Manon. She absently notes Fenrys dropping in at her side.

She can’t look away from Rowan, her eyes scanning to try and find anything that distinguishes him from the man she loved all those months ago. She finds nothing. He’s still Rowan and Aelin still… fuck.

He recovers before she does, ever the collected courtier, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Aelin,” he says and she adores the sound of her name on his tongue.

“Hi Rowan,” she manages and hears how weak she sounds. Rowan hears it too. She can tell from the purse of his lips and the tension in the hand he rests along the back of Manon’s chair.

Aelin allows her eyes to drift to Manon and she finally catches the thunderous expression the younger girl wears.

“Hi,” she whispers and Manon blinks.

“Hi?” Manon repeats incredulously.

Aelin is fucked.

“Five months and I get a hi?”

It’s loud and a few heads turn their way. It’s simultaneously mortifying and everything Aelin deserves.

“I’m sorry,” she says plainly.

She could lie, make up some useless excuses but in the end there’s nothing else but the truth and if Manon wants her to grovel she will, she’s just not sure this is the time or place.

Fenrys shares her thoughts. “Later, Manon,” he says, gently.

Rowan’s eyes stay firmly glued to the tablecloth as Manon frowns, seemingly unwilling to let it go.

After a few seconds, seconds Aelin spends waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her, Manon nods. She nods and turns to Fenrys, demanding to know what he’s ordering. And just like that Aelin has a moment to catch her breath.

She knew this dinner wouldn’t be easy, knew she’d be walking into the lion's den of her own making, but she hadn’t expected it to be as hard. Hadn’t expected seeing Rowan to feel like a slap, hadn’t expected Manon’s hurt to scrape across her skin leaving her raw.

She tries not to think she deserves it, Maeve would only raise a brow as if to say we’ve been over this. The thought is sobering, and she manages to lift her head.

It is what it is, what’s done is done and she can only apologise and move forwards.

As much as she tries to resist, Aelin finds herself watching Rowan throughout the night. It’s scary how familiar he feels, he should feel like a stranger, but he feels like she knows him too well. He laughs when she expects, rolls his eyes when she predicts. He orders what she thought he would and he sips away at an orange juice the way he did the first dinner they all had together.

Aelin already feels so different than she did the last time she was in Rifthold and he seems unchanged.

She observes for most of the night, feeling drained despite her minimal contributions to the conversations. She speaks when spoken to and actively avoids speaking when Rowan does, she definitely doesn’t respond to anything he says even though she wants to at least twice and wants to laugh a couple more.

She makes it through and clings to Fenrys again as they all leave, linking her arm through his as they leave the restaurant. He knows what she’s doing but graciously guides her out of the building. Once on the pavement outside the restaurant he pauses and turns to her.

“What hotel are you staying in while you’re here?”

The rest of the group are milling about, calling taxis and bidding their farewells. Aelin doesn’t know how she’s getting back yet, she’s assuming she’ll split a ride with someone.

“Um, the Glass Castle, I think,” she says, desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she dumped her bags in a few hours earlier.

“Boo,” Fenrys laughs, pointing his thumb down. “They’ve got me in the Torre Cesme. Think I’m ages away from you.”

Aelin laughs, disappointed but ready to order her own taxi back when a voice she didn’t expect sounds.

“I’ve just ordered a cab to the Glass Castle, I’m staying there too. You can jump in if you want.”

Rowan.

She shoots Fenrys a panicked look but his expression is pure glee.

“That would be great thanks, Boss,” Fenrys says, shrugging his arm out of hers and nudging her towards Rowan.

“No problem, Boyo.” Rowan offers Fenrys a dark grin at the nickname and the sight of it stills her. It’s new, he used to roll his eyes whenever Fenrys would drop it into conversation, but now Rowan’s playing along. And the grin, the curl of the lips and the narrowing of the eyes, it’s sexy as fuck.

It’s only taken one night and she’s back in the danger zone. She doesn’t want to be, hell, she wants him to take her back to his hotel room and peel off her clothes but this is Rowan. She’s spent the last few months trying to get over him, falling into bed with him the first night she sees him again would not likely be defined as progress.

He’s also not likely to want that after what she did.

“You don’t have to,” she says. The first direct thing she’s said to him since their greeting.

“I know.” A slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “But we’re going to the same place, it wouldn’t seem logical to take different cars.”

Logic. That’s all it is.

“Right.” She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so awkward with him, not even at the start. “Thank you,” she says, following him to the car.

Fenrys shoots her a grin as he slips into his own taxi. Traitor.

Rowan holds the door open for her and slips in behind her. She tries not to think anything of the fact he could have easily taken the front seat.

The ride is silent apart from the easy chit chat he makes with the driver, another thing she’s not sure she noticed him do before, and she stares out the window as the city passes by. The streets of Rifthold are not her home but she feels a brightness as she glances down the curving roads, spotting groups of people milling about enjoying the night.

She knows the first call she made to Elide in weeks was the right call. Elide is the only person she’d trust with her bank account and access to real estate listings. The link to the flat her friend had sent over has stayed open in her browser since she got it.

It’s modern with classic twists, situated in a recently renovated old warehouse with miles of exposed brick and rustic wooden panelling. She loves the master bedroom the most, with its adjoining en suite with a huge bathtub she can picture herself soaking in. She has a viewing booked in two days but doubts she’ll even need it.

It’s not long before the taxi pulls up outside the hotel and she follows Rowan through the glass doors. He presses the button for the lifts and Aelin shifts in the awkward silence.

Awkward is not something she’s used to with Rowan. Or it wasn’t before.

The doors slide open and again she follows him inside.

He pauses with a hand hovering over the buttons for the floors. “Which floor?”

“Nine.”

Aelin hates these one word exchanges compared to the hours they used to share talking about everything and nothing. She can’t believe this is the man she was so vulnerable with.

His short huff of laughter drags her gaze to his face.

“What?”

“Makes sense,” is what he says, shaking his head and pressing only the button for the ninth floor.

The ride takes seconds, a minute at most, filled with the silence between them.

When the doors open to the ninth floor she steps out, determined not to follow him again, and she feels him follow her. Even now she’s so aware of his powerful body and the way he moves it. She shouldn’t be so attracted to the power emanating from him, from the breadth of his shoulders to the sureness of his steps. She wants him, doesn’t think she ever stopped, except now he’s the forbidden fruit. Forbidden only by her own actions.

She reaches her door, room 905, but pauses with her key tucked in her hand.

“Thanks for letting me share your cab,” she says, finding herself desperate not to say goodbye yet. “I can transfer you for half.”

That finally, finally, cracks a whisper of a smile but she’s not sure she enjoys his laughter if it’s at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

That should be the end of it, she should open her door and shut it behind her, they have a few weeks ahead of them that will be hard enough without any complications.

She left him and he seems gracious enough to have mostly moved past it.

“It was good to see you, Aelin,” he says, seemingly unwilling to let the night end as well. She doesn’t let the seed of hope sprout because what would be the point?

Nevertheless, Aelin smiles, leaning back against her door.

Rowan continues, “even if I wasn’t sure how the night was going to go.”

Her attention is spiked. “What do you mean?”

She can’t lie, a part of her expects him to back down at the edge to her voice. He doesn’t.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to pretend nothing ever happened between us.”

She blinks, giving herself a second to process.

Maybe this isn’t the same Rowan from all those months ago. That night he let her walk away from him, gods know she needed it, but a dark little part of her had wanted him to fight her harder. Fight harder for her. When he hadn’t she’d taken it as her sign.

She knows the expectation was toxic, if he had fought her it would have only pissed her off, but she wishes she’d had someone to tell her it was the wrong choice. It would have helped to hear in the moment, rather than be faced with Rowan months down the line that she wants and can’t have.

The Rowan in front of her, the third Rowan she’s known, stares her down. His eyes peel away each of the layers she’s worked with Maeve for months to don in a second.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

It’s honest and maybe she’s not the same Aelin as a few months ago either.

That’s what she had asked for that night in the cool air, to move past them with as little commotion as possible, stirring up as little attention as they could. She hadn’t wanted to let them eclipse the movie and yet that ended up being exactly what she had accomplished.

Now though, Aelin knows better.

Rowan nods as his eyes dart across her face. He seems to step closer without realising. Aelin notes the motion, still so aware of him and his proximity to her.

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I was so angry at you for leaving.”

Aelin loses her breath at his confession.

Eventually she manages, “was?”

He looks away from her, glancing down the dark hallway, his jaw tight. When she’s with him she forgets about the world around them, there’s probably-definitely-CCTV in this hallway but he’s here and she can’t let him go yet.

His fists curl and uncurl as he takes a deep breath.

“Was,” he says shortly. “I was so angry at you, the way you did what you did was shit.”

Aelin swallows. He’s not wrong.

“I know.”

“But now I don’t know.” She lifts her eyes to his, swimming in the openness she doesn’t deserve. And fuck that. That is such bullshit. She meets his stare, returning all that he isn’t saying. “I spent a long time thinking about it, thinking about you, and it took me a while but now I get it.”

That hurts more than she expects. She didn’t expect him to be all over her the minute they reunited but his understanding was always a kicker.

“I know why you did it,” he continues. “And that took most of the wind out of my sails.”

Aelin frowns. He can’t possibly know why.

“I don’t think you do.” He tilts his head, an invitation for her to expand. “Or you’d know that nothing has changed.”

“Hasn’t it?”

His question throws her. Completely.

She tilts her head up to look at him, closer to her than he’s been all night, pushing her to keep being honest with him.

She’s dazed being this close to him again after so long, the green of his eyes stronger than she remembers. Or maybe her brain had assured her the memory of him couldn’t have been real.

“I don’t know,” she admits, unable to fight the way her body leans into him.

His teeth graze his lower lip and she follows the motion.

He’s silent for a beat too long and her skin is thrumming under his attention. She doesn’t know how she’s gone this long without him, she doesn’t know how she thought she’d survive never having him again.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” he says finally, drawing back and a rush of cool air fills the space he had taken. “Goodnight Aelin.”

He turns and she watches his back down the hallway. He slips easily into a room a few doors down and she’s left watching the path he’d taken, feeling the weight of his eyes on her lips.

Her head thuds against the door as she screws her eyes shut. She wants to scream, wants to chase him down the hall, wants to fly back to Orynth where she was safe.

She doesn’t do any of those things.

She tucks herself into her hotel room and readies herself for the whirlwind that’s about to hit. These next few weeks are going to be hard, not just dealing with the Rowan situation, but she can’t fight the excitement she feels.

Fuck. She’s back in Rifthold, back where she loves, doing what she was born to do.

This is big. She can feel it.

The Crescent City is not her first project, and so she’s been a part of press cycles before, she knows how they go. What she doesn’t know is how a press cycle for something like this works.

The only word she can find is insanity.

There are somehow earlier mornings than they had while shooting and often longer days. She gets poked and prodded in hair and make-up for hours before they spend all day sat in a hotel room filming repetitive interviews for various magazines.

She and Fenrys are genuinely friends and yet they still have to put on a show in front of the cameras. She plays up her laughter when he cracks a joke and he makes sure to never look away from her for longer than two seconds when she speaks or a producer behind the camera makes a comment.

She loves Fenrys but it’s exhausting. Her only blessing is that for most of her engagements she’s with Fenrys and Manon with Rowan conducting his own interviews separately as she had hoped.

Sometimes though, given their relatively similar ages and general level of chemistry, they get grouped together.

The four of them are filming a video for Buzzfeed, filling in a quiz to find out which character from The Crescent City they’re most like. She’s unsurprised to discover her result is Rhysand and it’s fun even if her heart does pound every time she has to act like she’s unfazed and friendly with Rowan.

There’s a moment, just a moment, where she almost breaks from her friendly and unbothered interview persona. It’s her turn to read the question, what item could you not survive without on a desert island?

It’s Rowan that speaks. “Her shampoo,” he says, “it’s jasmine.”

There’s a split second where she doesn’t speak, where all she can do is stare at Rowan, stunned that he remembered and thought to mention it now.

In that split second she’s transported back to memories of them together in the shower at her rented apartment, kissing lazily under the spray after spending hours between her sheets. She remembers dumping the shampoo into her hand and then onto his head, massaging his thick locks and surrounding them in the scent of jasmine.

She remembers how he kissed her neck as she did, trailing his hands over her silky curves, slick with the soap, with his kisses building in heat until her hands dropped to his shoulders. He’d lavished kisses down her chest until he’d jerked back, shampoo in his eyes and she’d laughed until he was safe and pressed his lips again to hers, continuing where he’d left off.

She’s shocked he’d bring this up when there’s a camera on the two of them and she can only imagine the comments it will spark. She’s not sure she cares if it keeps Rowan’s eyes on her.

“It’s luxurious for a reason,” she says when she recovers, tossing her thick locks over her shoulder. “Well worth it.”

She doesn’t miss the flicker in his own mask at her comment.

That kind of interaction will no doubt ignite the sparks she’d only ever wanted to avoid.

As the press cycle goes on and on, and they get closer and closer to the premiere it only becomes harder for her conviction to hold.

She tests her own argument, the clear line she drew in the sand, when she manages to keep it professional with Rowan and she’s not sure where that leaves her. She had thought they would overshadow everything about the project and now she’s not sure.

She said nothing had changed and he had challenged her.

She’s still not sure who’s in the right.

Everything is simultaneously completely new and exactly the same. Rowan is still gorgeous, still charming in his own reserved way, still almost reverent when he talks about his craft throughout interviews. He still talks with his hands and Aelin still can’t draw her eyes away from their motions, she still craves the touch of them on her skin. He’s still seven years older than her and the director of her big break.

Yet there are differences.

They’re still often on the same page, offering similar answers and backing each other up but now he never backs down from a challenge. Now he doesn’t hold back those comments she knows he was always dying to let slip. She should be annoyed, everytime he drops a line that pushes her to expand a little part of her wants to roll her eyes.

She doesn’t though. Her blood heats and her skin prickles. She loves this with him. Loves the dance they play, the teasing, verbal games that shouldn’t start her off but do. She loves the smirk he wears when they end up down that path, and she knows she wears it’s mirror image.

She always ends up squirming in her seat and it should be wrong but it isn’t. The cameras can’t see below their chests and the flush in her cheeks could easily be from the warmth of the day.

She’s beginning to wonder if she’s powerless against Rowan Whitethorn. If she’s powerless against the green of his eyes or the curl of his accent. The slant of his brows or the points of his teeth when he smiles.

She doesn’t know that it’s just one thing. It’s all of the things, it’s all of him, and more so than ever she’s completely fucked.

But they aren’t talking outside of the interviews and photoshoots, and the knowledge of which hotel room is his itches her toes every night. It would be so easy to sneak down the hall, to knock on the door and slot her lips to his when he opened.

It’s only a couple of nights before the premiere when the temptation becomes too much. She’s been around Rowan all day, surrounded by the smell of his aftershave, the notes of pine and freshness and Rowan and it’s too much. She strides down the hallway, resolved in her decision and closes her fingers over the button for the lift.

She needs to be elsewhere or she’ll make some bad decisions.

She’s come so far, survived months without him, she can’t cave due to proximity.

The hotel bar is deserted when she walks in and makes a beeline to the bartender. Yeah, maybe after her wobble at the wrap party a bar isn’t the best decision she could make but her options are limited. Trying to sleep with Rowan is, after all, probably the worst of both options.

“Just a sparkling water please,” she says to the barman who nods and returns a moment later.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice from the end of the bar.

A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she closes her fingers around her glass. Of course he’s here. She should have spotted Rowan the minute she walked in and it’s cruel that the reason she didn’t was that her thoughts were too wrapped up in him.

“Be careful what you sign up for,” she says as she walks over, her steps measured as she comes to a stop before him. Her hips swing of their own accord and his eyes dart up and down the length of her. “I can put a number of these away.”

The smile he gives her is surprisingly unguarded. It seems he’s done holding himself back too. Aelin loves it.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, nodding at the stool next to him. She obliges as he speaks again. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes.”

He’s always on the same page as she is. Aelin shrugs, taking a sip of the drink he bought her.

They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure of how to break the silence between them when one of the last things they knew was the taste of each other’s lips.

“I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, that one day this will just be my job, but I never do,” Aelin says eventually, tracing a fingertip through the condensation gathered on her glass.

Rowan nods, smiling softly down at the bar and taking a sip of his own drink. An orange juice as usual.

“It’s hard to sleep at the end of days like today,” he says. “It’s why I’m in here.”

The bar is dark at the late hour, and quiet with no one else in there but them and the bartender. There’s something about the late hour, the darkness and the stillness surrounding them a break from the recent rush, that feels a little bit too close. She feels a little too exposed under the weight of his gaze but she rolls her shoulders back and leans an elbow on the bar as she turns towards him.

“I thought you’d be used to all of this by now,” she says and he cocks his head.

“Why?” His question is coy, begging her to expand.

“This is not your first rodeo and all of that,” she says with a smile.

Rowan laughs softly, the sound curving around her like an embrace.

“It can still be overwhelming after your first big movie,” he says gently, but with an edge to his voice that she needs to immediately get rid of.

“I don’t doubt that,” is what she whispers and his brow seems to soften, sensing her lack of malice.

She hates the way they’re in the position where he assumes the worst of her. She has to make that change.

“I don’t think if I get to do this for the rest of my life that it would ever feel normal.”

“No,” Rowan agrees, “I don’t think it could.”

“So then we need this film to do well.” Aelin shifts on the stool, finding herself leaning closer to him without conscious thought. He doesn’t retreat. He stands his ground until they’re only inches apart. “Lest we find ourselves fading into obscurity.”

“I doubt you ever could,” he says with a laugh and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

As he looks at her, his expression soft in the dim light, his smile holds something special for her and her chest lifts that she managed it. That he was willing to give that to her.

“My agent sent over the initial critic reviews earlier,” he says and her stomach plummets.

“And?” she demands, her voice wobbling slightly. Her confidence from a minute ago vanished.

This is the moment where she could sink, the moment this could all be over.

“And they’re good,” he almost whispers.

“Good,” she repeats and it’s not a question but he nods.

She wants to throw herself at him at the news, a couple of months ago she wouldn’t have even hesitated, but now she sits clenching her fists and trying not to smile too wide. It feels like a waste. She’ll never get this feeling again.

She turns to him and he’s smiling so she does what she’s wanted to for months. Aelin leans forwards and wraps an arm over his shoulders, pressing her chest to his.

His arms slip up slowly over her shoulders at first, unsure but gaining confidence as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her further into his chest. Aelin laughs a little, throwing her other arm around him and resting her face against his shoulder.

It’s not enough, it never could be with him, but it will do. She’s just happy he didn’t push her away.

Eventually, after a length of time that feels far too short, she pulls back to see him gazing down at her with an expression she can’t name. His brows are drawn in with his lips gently parted. He’s happy but apprehensive, open but distant. Aelin will take what she can and the distance between them has always been too far.

She wants nothing more than to close it, to draw herself into him and he into her, but she can’t. They’re here for one thing and one thing only and she refuses after what they’ve been through to mess it up again.

She knows he can read her own expression but she doesn’t care. She’ll hide from everyone and anyone but she’s realising she could never hide from him.

She wants Rowan, will probably want him for the rest of her life, but she made the call and he’s wrong, things haven’t changed.

Apart from all of the things that have.

The day of the premiere Aelin feels sick.

Her stomach twists and she tosses and turns all night and the dark circles under her eyes are brutal as a result. Her make-up artist tuts but diligently packs concealer on until Aelin looks well rested. Or as close as she can.

She’s trying not to think of the stretch of carpet she’ll have to walk tonight, a smile plastered across her face as she poses for the hundreds of cameras. Their premiere is one of the biggest of the season and, along with Fenrys, she’s the star.

She’ll have nowhere to hide.

Aelin sits in front of her mirror, her hair and make-up are done but she’s yet to get dressed. She takes herself in, making sure to note every strand of hair to every line of her lips, feeling as though she needs to remember this moment. The moment before it all explodes.

They’ve been building to this for almost a year now and this is as close to a culmination as she’ll get.

Her dress is something fierce. Endless, flowing velvet in the darkest shade of black. Long sleeves and a fitted bodice with an almost indecent dip in the back. The dress would be modest without that cut out, she can’t wear any underwear it dips so low.

It would be a simple dress, some might even dare to say boring, if it weren’t for the back. The majority of the fabric that remains is covered in gold embroidery taking the form of a dragon, coiled to strike. Aelin adored the dress the moment her stylist revealed it to her. She didn’t consider any of the other dresses, didn’t even acknowledge them as options.

The dress is what she needs, something strong, something to help her hold her head up high. She can walk the red carpet and stare down every single person who doubted her and know that they were wrong.

Aelin doesn’t need their approval. She doesn’t need the reassurance of faceless commenters, she doesn’t need the support of the magazines and the newspapers. She doesn’t need her mother’s approval. On anything.

Aelin is confident and self-assured and she can walk the red carpet knowing that.

Her sessions with Maeve have helped to reassure her stance, but she’s realising day by day she’s known it all along. It’s just taken a little bit of digging to uncover it.

She slips into her dress and it slides on like a second skin. She takes in her appearance, the arch of her brow and the red smirk of her lips makes her look intriguing, like a confident young woman.

Aelin was born to be an actress but she’s proud to say the sight in the mirror is real.

She poses for a few photos before she’s led out of her room and into the car, waiting to take her to the theatre.

She spends the ride in silence, barely listening to the jabbering of the aide in the car with her, and she focuses her thoughts on the calm before the storm. She takes deep breaths and centres herself the way Maeve has taught, she knows this could so easily be overwhelming but she’s determined to enjoy it.

The car stills and she can hear the noise of the crowd outside. She takes a final deep breath and allows her lips to spread into a smile. This one is genuine, nothing forced about it, and she pauses for one last beat.

This is big and Aelin is ready.

The car door opens and the sound hits her like a wave, slamming down onto her and it's so loud she can hardly think.

This is it. This is the moment she has dreamed of.

The nights where this image was all she could cling to to make it through could never have compared to how it feels standing here now, screams of her own name wrapping around her and urging her on.

Her steps are slow and purposeful as she glides down the path forged for her, the red carpet beneath her stilettos is plush and bright. She pauses where she’s instructed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at the cameras with a hand on her hip.

She knows she looks incredible and the shouts of the photographers do nothing to change her mind. They are here for her, they’re all here for what she has accomplished, along with Fenrys, Manon, Chaol and Rowan and everyone else involved.

There are so many forces upon her, the flashing of the lights, the screams and shouts calling her name or Fenrys’, the magnitude of what this is could knock down a lesser individual but all it does is raise Aelin up.

She’s been through worse than this and survived, she’ll stare down the lense of all of these cameras, of everyone who has ever spoken her name and she won’t cower, she won’t just survive. She’ll thrive.

A warm hand lands on her waist and somehow the flashes of the cameras explode.

“Hey, golden girl.” Fenrys’ words are almost hard to hear even though his lips brush her ear. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin wraps her arm around his back and grins, “I thought I’d at least show my face.”

He returns her smile and together they pose for the cameras, their shoulders back and smiles confident. She’s not sure this could be better.

Until she turns slightly to her left and gets flashes of silver where she and Fenrys are gold.

Rowan and Manon, posing for their own pictures mere metres away. He looks spectacular, the deep black of his tuxedo doing nothing but bringing out the depth of his tan and the shine of his silver hair.

He’s smiling his public smile and it’s gorgeous even though it’s not her favourite of his smiles, she loves the private ones he used to save just for her, and her own smile falters at the sight.

She’s here with Fenrys and it’s not wrong but it doesn’t feel right. The arm around her waist shouldn’t belong to Fenrys.

She should be where Manon is, smiling up at Rowan while they marvel at what they’ve accomplished. She knows her smile has dropped and she fumbles for anything to plaster onto her expression other than the longing she feels for Rowan.

As if she’d called his name he turns to her, green colliding with blue, and she knows he feels the same.

And that hurts far more than all of the months they spent apart.

All the months she spent hurting, trying to deny what she always knew, trying to pretend that they were anything other than a force of nature. They had been an eclipse, threatening to over take all of this but she was wrong. Rowan was wrong too.

It doesn’t matter whether everything or nothing has changed because she wasn’t right in the first place.

She should have known better than to think that whatever flimsy decision she made could halt what they were, what they should be.

She can only hope he forgives her. She can only hope he feels the same.

But the thing about this new Rowan is that she can’t read him the way she used to read her Rowan, she can’t tell if the way he steels himself and turns away from her is a dismissal or if the look they shared had been just as painful for him as it had been for her.

“A masterpiece.” - Rifthold Reporter

“Fenrys Moonbeam shines alongside Aelin Ashryver in The Crescent City. See our full review here.” - Wyrd Stone

“Latest Rowan Whitethorn flick smashes Box Office records.” - Valg Weekly

“Unapologetic, daring and thought provoking. Award nominations expected to follow for The Crescent City.” - Terrasen Tribune

Her phone has not stopped buzzing for the past four days.

Dorian texts every waking hour with the updates he gets, the numbers coming in and all her latest offers. It’s surreal. She knew they were good but she’s not sure she ever really expected this. Aedion texts her a picture every time he sees or hears her name, it should be terrifying the frequency with which he texts her but she has to fight back her smile each time he does.

She managed to find an hour the night before to call Lysandra and the majority of their call had consisted of Aelin repeatedly asking what the fuck was happening while Lysandra cackled down the phone.

She’d even got a text from Lorcan. It was alright, he’d written. Followed by, I hope I die before ever having to watch you make out with someone like that again.

She’d sent three middle finger emojis and a kissy face in response.

Now is probably not the best time to move to a different country but she’d signed her name on the papers two days before the premiere and Rifthold is calling, irrespective of the fact she’s only been back in Orynth for two days.

Most of her stuff headed out yesterday with the moving company leaving Aelin with two suitcases to fly back to Rifthold with tomorrow.

There’s one last place she needs to go before she heads back to finally get a good night's sleep before her flight tomorrow. She’s never set foot in this graveyard before, she’s never had the courage to dare before, but she’s emboldened. By the success of the movie, by her progress in the past year, by her sessions with Maeve. This has felt like a natural step.

The shining, black headstone is understated and classy and completely to his taste.

Sam Cortland. Beloved son and brother, taken far too soon.

Aelin waits with her head bowed, allowing all of her emotions to rush through her veins. She doesn’t fight them, it would be pointless to try, and she embraces the tears that gather. Eventually she steps forwards, placing the smooth, small stone on the crest of the headstone.

She rests her hand on the cool stone for a moment before sinking down and crossing her legs beneath her as she leans against it.

“I’ve missed you,” she says aloud, “I can almost hear you telling me to stop being such a sappy shit. I can’t help it, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She pauses, letting the wind drift through the field sweeping her words away.

There’s no one else here but her and Sam, no one else she’d want to hear her confession.

“I wonder what you would have made of all this. I think you’d tell me to enjoy it all, to not miss a moment, and I’m not. I’m just choosing the ones I want to savour. And this is one of them, Sam. I wish you’d been there with me, you would have loved it, the cameras, the lights, everything.

“I have to keep pinching myself to know it’s real, I did it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and see you.”

She sighs, letting her head tip back to rest against the stone. She didn’t prepare anything to say, didn’t realise she’d even want to speak to the open air but here she is.

“I’m not the same Aelin as the girl you knew anymore,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think I would have the capacity to love again after you but I did, and I feel terribly guilty that I do. I have to remind myself that this is what you would have wanted, you would have wanted me to be happy.”

The silence in the field is more than an answer enough. So typically Sam to give her an answer without so much as speaking a word.

“I was happy,” she says, trailing a fingertip along the words etched into the stone. “I will be again.”

A faint haze of sunlight drifts through the Orynth autumn clouds, a whisper compared to the chorus of brightness she misses in Rifthold, and she stands, brushing off the dirt from her jeans. She touches the stone one last time before turning and heading out of the graveyard.

Her visit was years overdue but her chest didn’t crack open the way she had expected, the tears hadn’t been relentless the way she had expected. She’ll visit him again the next time she’s back in Orynth, probably visiting Elide and Lorcan for Yulemass, and she’ll visit again and again for as long as she lives.

But for now, she has a plane to catch.

Months later and two days before the Oscars, when they’re all back in town for the ceremony held in her new home city of Rifthold, Fenrys throws another party.

She’s managed, this time, to stay in touch with Fenrys and Manon, having made up with the younger girl before the press cycle had finished. Aelin knows her upset was real but partly suspects the animosity was a front. She even finds herself participating in the group chat with the three of them and Rowan. She’s only texted him one to one once to wish him a happy birthday and they had caught up briefly but not texted since.

She’s missed him in a different way to the last time she missed him. This time missing him doesn’t feel necessary, it feels wrong not to text him, wrong to be away from him and she’s itching to see him again.

It’s no one's birthday this time but they’re all together again to celebrate, no matter the results they’ll see in two days. Aelin is very carefully measuring her excitement about her own nomination for best actress. Fenrys is up for best actor, Rowan best director and the movie best picture.

She’d almost dropped her phone in the toilet when she found out from Dorian a few weeks ago.

The party is small but still in full swing by the time she arrives. Big names from the industry, all in town for the ceremony, are scattered all around Fenrys’ Rifthold apartment. He’d bought a place here not long after Aelin and she’s secretly relieved she’s not the only one so moved by their experience.

She waves to a few people she knows and tries to stay calm when she spots Sartaq Khagan in the corner chatting away to a small group of people. Holy shit Fenrys has some famous friends.

Aelin finds herself a glass, tops her orange juice off with a splash of lemonade and begins her rounds. So many more people want to talk to her after the movie dropped.

Her mother had been one of them, and Aelin’s thumb had hovered over the accept button for a moment before decidedly pressing decline. She had blocked her mother’s number a moment later, and then she had made some calls closing the bank account her mother kept topped up and arranging for every penny she’d ever received from Evalin Ashryver to be paid back.

It had hurt, emotionally and financially, especially in the month she’d moved to Rifthold, but it had been worth it. To never let Evalin pass any judgement over her life again was a relief worth any cost. Aelin’s hoping there’s a possibility she could end up with a reward.

She doesn’t know how long she spends talking to big name after big name and it’s a realisation that drops onto her that she fits in here. Aelin Ashryver is a big name. No matter the outcome of the ceremony she has prospects, already a number of projects lined up and she’s loving every minute of it.

She drains her cup for the third time tonight and heads back into the kitchen. She’s barely seen Fenrys all night, and she doesn’t even know if Manon is here.

She frowns into the fridge, there was definitely a full bottle of orange juice in here the last time she topped herself up. She shuts the fridge and spins around.

“Looking for this?”

She should have known.

Rowan looks predictably gorgeous in the dim kitchen lighting. All tanned skin and silver smiles. He’s dressed in her favourite look of his too, worn denim jeans and a soft cotton shirt.

It’s the softness in his gaze that really takes her though, it seems the animosity from the last time they saw each other has faded if not disappeared. Her chest squeezes at the thought. She has no idea what could have triggered it but she will take it.

“Nope,” she says, stepping over to where he stands with an arm braced against the counter at his side, the other holding out a bottle of orange juice. “I was hoping Fenrys would have some chocolate in there but I guess this will have to do.”

She takes the bottle from him, her fingertips brushing his and she feels her cheeks heat at the innocent brush.

His smile is genuine and she knows what he’s remembering because she’s thinking of it too. The first time she visited his house during filming and their moment in the kitchen. They’ve been through cycles, she supposes, but hopefully now for the better.

“I’m sure we can find you some somewhere in here,” he says as she fills her cup, pulling open the cupboard next to his head.

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to leave the rummaging through Fenrys’ cupboards to you. You could find anything in there.”

Rowan winces, closing the door before returning her smile. This is friendly and the hope that’s been planted in her chest begins to sprout.

“Yeah, maybe not,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “We wouldn’t want to risk it.”

Aelin pauses for a moment, taking in the glory of him in front of her. He’s still Rowan, he’s still tall and deliciously broad. His silver hair is slightly more grown out and there are a couple more lines around his eyes but she doesn’t care, in fact it’s charming. He’s still and always will be stunning. She takes a sip of her drink before she takes one of her biggest risks so far.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, not daring to look away from his face.

He bites his lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin before he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

The smile that spreads across her face is all too telling but he’s smiling too so she doesn’t think it matters. He definitely feels the same and she’d be annoyed at the months she spent worrying but the relief is too sweet.

“Good,” is what she says, far too happy they’re here to bother with pretending she’s anything other than ecstatic. “Congrats on your nomination.”

His eyes dart to the floor and then back up at her, he’s too modest about his own skill and Aelin adores it. “Thank you,” he says softly, “you too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All of you.”

“Me neither,” Rowan says.

He’s close to her now, closer than he has been to her for months and her skin cries out for contact. She almost can’t believe she’s here now, talking to Rowan without any animosity, days before the Oscars that she’s nominated in.

The smile that takes over her face is completely of its own accord. She’s floating and it seems Rowan is too if the beat they share, exchanging incredulous smiles, is anything to go by.

“It’s crazy, right?”

She’s been asking herself the question for so long it seems only natural it slips out to him.

He laughs softly, and the rough sound curls straight to her core.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his voice low. “I don’t think last time felt like this.”

Aelin slaps a gentle hand to his chest and ignores the thrill that shoots through her at the eventual contact. “I get it, this is not your first nomination.”

Rowan rolls his eyes and she didn’t know how much she missed this, playing with him. She adores his reaction every time, the begrudging amusement he only lets shine through to make her smile.

“Some of us have never been nominated before, this is all completely new.” Aelin takes a sip of her drink. “I had to give up my social media accounts to Elide, it got so crazy.”

Something flickers over Rowan’s face at her comment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes darting across his face trying to decipher the expression. “She’s always had access and I still do so I can post if I want to but it just became a lot. It stopped being fun when I would see what people were saying, whether it was good or bad I don’t want to see it anymore.”

Rowan nods before his eyes lock onto hers, the intensity in his expression shreds her control.

“And you said nothing had changed?”

Aelin gets it now.

She shifts her weight, leaning as close to him as she can without sliding herself completely into the circle of his arms. “I was wrong. Lots of things have changed,” she says, her voice quiet but strong. “And lots of things are now right that weren’t before.”

She doesn’t mean to skirt around the truth, hiding in veiled words and double meanings, but as always, Rowan sees her. He sees her meaning and he smiles. It’s the most beautiful smile Aelin has ever seen him wear.

“I’ve been looking for you two.”

Fenrys bursts into the kitchen, startling Aelin back from Rowan. She hides her guilty smile in her drink and notices Rowan doing the same. Fenrys just grins, clearly enjoying whatever he thinks he’s seeing.

“You’re missing out, we’re playing kings in the living room if you want to join?”

Rowan glances at her before he turns back to Fenrys. “I think we’re good, thanks.”

Fenrys’ smile turns smug and Aelin resists the temptation to flip him off. She’s in too good of a mood to be annoyed at him.

“Okay, see you later, lovebirds,” Fenrys says, already on his way back out of the door.

Aelin pretends she isn’t blushing as she turns back to Rowan, his green eyes shining.

“This might sound crazy,” he says with an alluring tilt to his lips, “but do you want to get out of here?”

She’s reached a point she truly never thought she would.

She’s an Oscar-nominated lead actress in a box-office-record-breaking movie.

She’s happy, healthy and out from underneath the thumb of Evalin Ashryver.

The part that’s most uplifting, the part that has her unable to wipe the smile off her face as she strolls down the streets of Rifthold, is the arm she has tucked through Rowan’s.

They’ve been walking for a little while, enjoying the cool night air and the ease with which they managed to sneak out of Fenrys’ party. Her heels are killing her and Rowan very graciously offers her an arm to lean on and each time she takes a step in time with him she smiles.

“I never thought I’d like doing television,” he says.

She didn’t know he’d taken on a miniseries, similar to the one she’d done after filming, but she’s loving the recap she’s getting of the months they’ve been apart. The chill of the air is more than fought off by the warmth of Rowan by her side. The streets are mercifully empty and she can bask in the knowledge that it’s just the two of them out here, that they’re insignificant, that anyone who sees them will immediately dismiss them.

“I always thought I’d stick to movies, singular stories but I enjoyed it. I guess change can be good.”

Aelin laughs softly and squeezes his arm. He looks down to her, a question written in the slant of his brow.

“Change can definitely be good,” she says as she takes in the sights of the skyscrapers surrounding them. “I would know that I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I bought a flat recently.”

“You did?”

He’s so graciously giving her the floor to say what she needs to say and she holds his arm even tighter.

“It’s right here in Rifthold.” Aelin avoids his gaze, lest he think it’s a speedy invitation and that that’s all this is. “I bought it just after we were back here for press, I realised that I adore Rifthold and being here. I missed it when I wasn’t here and I don’t feel there’s anything holding me in Orynth anymore.”

Rowan laughs softly, his feet scuffing the floor.

“What?” she demands.

“I swear I’m not following you,” he says and she feels a smile creep onto her face. “I bought a loft here too.”

Aelin gasps. “But your house was gorgeous!”

Rowan’s smile twists as he looks away from her. “I didn’t say I sold the house.”

Aelin cackles as she squeezes his arm, the sound joyous and bright as it echoes around them. “I knew being Mr Big-Name-Director has its perks.”

“It does,” he agrees with a smirk.

Aelin wants to kiss that smirk. Wants to pull him down and twist her fingers through his hair as his own tangle along her skin.

Instead she says, “I copied you somewhat too.”

He only raises a brow.

“I bought a piano like the one in your house. It was too big for my old flat in Orynth and so I knew what I had to do.”

“That’s good,” he says as his arm drops out of hers. She almost pouts until he instead tangles their fingers together. Her smile says it all, reflected back in his own. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks are glowing. “You’ll have to come over and I’ll play for you sometime, neighbour.”

“I’d love to.”

Aelin slows, using the hand tangled with his to pull him to a stop too. Her free hand trails a gentle path up his chest before coming to rest at his collar, her fingertips tracing the golden skin peeking out from his shirt. His free hand finds her waist.

They’re close, closer than they have been in such a long time when he speaks.

“I don’t know what you think has or hasn’t changed.” His hand leaves hers to cup her cheek. “But I still feel the way I used to about you.”

Her heart takes off, pounding within her chest.

“I do too, Rowan.” Some of the easiest words she’s ever said to him. There’s something about the way the streetlights shine through the silver tips of his hair and the way his calloused fingers feel between hers that she’s feeling brave. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

His eyes flicker across her face as his smile dawns, taking over his face as he smiles so brightly. This is all she’s ever wanted, to have a Rowan like this, with pure, unfiltered happiness in his eyes as he looks at her.

“You love me?”

“I do. To whatever end.”

His lips are barely a whisper from hers and she only acknowledges the thought that they’re in public for long enough to realise she doesn’t care.

“And I love you.”

His words are simple, but sweet. They wash over her and settle into her skin as his lips land on hers. He kisses her with what she can only describe as love. His lips pour devotion onto her and his hands light a fire inside her as he tastes her tongue.

They kiss for longer than she can keep a track of, wrapped up together illuminated only by the street lighting. She’s missed this, missed him, and she can’t help but feel right when his hands are on her. She can’t help but feel right as she stretches onto her toes to throw herself into his kiss.

This was never wrong, this was one of the first things she knew was right.

She loves him and he loves her and nothing and nobody else matters.

She doesn’t win the Oscar, and neither does Rowan. Fenrys does and she screams herself hoarse cheering him on as he makes his way to the stage.

The moment that takes the cake is when The Crescent City takes best picture. She takes to the stage with some of her best friends to recognise what they achieved together and maybe she is a soppy shit but she definitely cries. Fenrys laughs at her and Manon grins but Rowan just throws his arm around her shoulders and it's worth it.

Afterwards, she logs into her Instagram account for the first time in a long time. She posts a picture of Rowan looking absolutely delicious with his tux unbuttoned and his bow tie hanging untied around his neck with a greasy burger in one hand and hers in his other.

Posting him is a statement but she doesn’t care. In fact, she wants the world to know. She wants the world to know that nobody does it like he does. Nobody does it like they do.

#rowaelin #nobody does it like you do #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #rowaelin au #ndilyd #i cant believe it's the last part of this fic #crazy #hope you all enjoyed

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onewithnomightypowers · 4 years ago

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clandestine (chapter 2)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 2: portrait of a dinner

A/N: the characters in no way portray how these ppl are in real life. i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like this chapter!! i would love to know how you guys feel about the story. feedback is always appreciated.

warnings: drinking, smoking, cursing

word count: 1.6k

important: the whole chapter is a flashback, character thoughts are in bold italics

masterlist series masterlist chapter 1 chapter 3

“I rent a place on Cornelia street”, Tom said casually in the car. They were sitting in the backseat of a black town car, going for their shoot. Y/N had suggested that they travel together, in an attempt to get to know each other better. She said, “It would help with the on screen chemistry”, the whole production team agreed. But that did not become a norm for them, mostly because of their different call times.

Both of them had hectic filming schedules and only saw each other when they had scenes together. Sometimes they would bump into each other at the craft service, but otherwise, they were on their own.

During the last few weeks of filming, Tom had started getting her coffee. He had noticed how she took her coffee during the shooting. Black with one sugar.

“There you go”, Tom handed her the coffee. “Thanks Tom.” He gave her a smile. She was walking towards the door, and Tom started following her behind.

“I’m going to hair and makeup, do you wanna tag along?” she asked him.

“Sure, I have a 15 minute break anyway”

“Have you seen Hot Rod? I watched it last night” she didn’t know why she asked that silly question. She found it embarrassing.

“That Andy Samberg movie, right?” Tom nodded, “Yeah I watched it a long time ago, it’s a classic”

“I totally watched it for Bill Hader” She found herself easing up to him.

“Valid reason. Loved him on SNL. Do you know Stefon? from SNL?” She reached for the door handle, a gush of cold air was felt by both of them.

“Don’t even get me started on Stefon. I used to watch Stefon compilations on YouTube all the time. It became a problem” she chuckled, remembering how Haz used to get pissed off whenever she’d talk in a ‘Stefon’ tone.

Oh, I love it when she chuckles like that. I wish I could kiss her. NO. She is fucking married, Tom.

“Yes yes yes, New York’s hottest club is…” Tom tried to imitate Bill Hader as Stefon. He looked around a bit and pointed towards the paparazzi, who were trying to take pictures of anything worth money. “New York’s hottest club is paparazzi” he continued.

“If paparazzi is the hottest club, then I’m fine staying at home” Y/N was laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe. She clutched Tom’s arm to avoid falling down while trying to contain her laughter. She hadn’t had a good laugh with Haz in a long time.

Tom found himself at Y/N’s doorsteps with cheap wine he bought from the convenience store last minute. Y/N had invited Tom and his partner for dinner during the last week of shooting.

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone actually, but my lonely heart and I will be there”, Tom replied to Y/N’s invitation.

He rang the bell and waited for someone to open the door. Tom was met by Haz’ charming smile, as he opened the door. Tom could see right through his fake smile. Clueless to Y/N and Haz’ fight prior, he entered the two story building.

“Why did you invite him without asking me?” Haz screamed, slamming the plates on the table.

“I didn’t think you’d be home tonight, you never are” Y/N replied in the same tone as Haz

“So you were going to have dinner with him, alone?”

“Yes” she said in a crude way.

“Are you fucking him?” Just as Haz asked her, the doorbell rang.

It would be better fucking him than fucking you. At least he’ll be home.

Y/N entered the kitchen leaving Haz to open the door. “You must be Tom” said Haz, in his most likeable voice.

“Yeah and you must be Haz. I got this for you guys”, Tom handed him the wine bottle.

He’s a bloody hotshot and brought us cheap wine.

“Hey Tom, I’m so glad you could make it”, Y/N said, taking Tom in for a hug. She could feel Haz burning a hole behind her head with his gaze.

She pulled out of the hug, “do you want red or white wine?”

“Red”, Harrison and Tom said in unison. Y/N let out a little chuckle and went into the kitchen. Tom started noticing the little things in their house, like how there were film and Polaroid cameras scattered everywhere. There was a vinyl shelf right above an old golden gramophone, adjacent to their brown leather couch.

He noticed a collage of pictures and recognised some of the photos from the time they were taken on set. There was one with him and Y/N. He felt a sense of pride knowing that their picture hung on Y/N’s wall and the possibility of her looking at it every day.

“So, what do you wanna hear?” Harrison was standing next to their vinyl collection. “Since Y/N lives here, we have everything Taylor Swift, I don’t suppose you’re into that pop shit, are you?”

“Actually I do like pop but more like alt-pop”

Harrison wasn’t surprised. He seemed like a ‘Beach House’ kinda guy anyway, to him.

“So you like alt-pop?” Y/N walked towards the boys with two glasses of red wine in her hands. “Have you heard of ‘peter cat recording co.’?” she asked Tom

“Yes I have! Oh, I thought nobody knew about them. I’m glad I found you”, Tom was filled with giddy excitement.

“PCRC it is, then”, Haz said in an annoyed tone. He grabbed the vinyl of ‘portrait of a time’, their first album, and placed it on the gramophone.

“Babe, where is your glass?” Haz asked Y/N.

“Oh I, shit I left it in the kitchen”

“No worries I’ll get it”, Haz kissed her cheek and left the living room.

Even though Y/N knew it was fake niceties, she still craved it. It felt nice, behaving like a normal couple instead of fighting over every damn thing, and him storming out of the house almost every night. Sometimes she felt that Harrison was a hypocrite. He would accuse her of cheating with every guy in her life, but wouldn’t be home nine out of ten times.

They were now seated on their wooden dining table, with dried flowers in the middle. Haz and Y/N were sitting opposite to Tom. There was Chinese takeout in their fancy china.

“Sorry about the take out, neither of us are good at cooking and we didn’t want you getting sick”, Y/N tried to justify the absence of a home cooked meal.

“It’s fine as long as I’m getting fed”, Tom chuckled.

“No actually all this food is only for Y/N and me”, Haz said, trying to sound serious.

That was a bad joke, all of them thought.

There was an awkward silence. Haz cleared his throat, “So Y/N, are you seeing someone?”

“Haz, you can’t just ask someone that!”

“It’s okay Y/N. No Haz, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” Tom said, blushing at the personal question.

“So you are single”, Haz said looking at Y/N, in an attempt to imply that she might be having an affair with him.

Trying to hide her annoyance, Y/N started serving the food. The rest of the dinner was normal. They talked about the movie and Haz did not spontaneously combust. In Y/N’s mind, it was near to a success. When Tom started to leave, Y/N offered to drop him to his apartment building, but he settled on walking him one block.

Y/N grabbed her jacket as they left the house. She pulled out a box of cigarettes from her pocket and offered Tom.

“Oh, I don’t smoke”

Y/N scuffed with a cigarette between her teeth.

“What kind of an English man are you?” she said, lighting her cigarette.

“Well you know it’s a common misconception, we don’t all smoke”

“That’s good to know”, she took a long drag.

“Also you might not like the wine I brought you. I realised pretty late that I should be getting you something because I was visiting your house for the first time, so I bought the best wine I could find in that convenience store”, he pointed towards the store a few metres away from them.

“Its fine, it’ll remind me of my youth”, they both laughed.

“I guess this is one block, you should go back home now”, Tom said while trying hail a cab by waving his right hand frantically, at the edge of the curb. He looked ridiculous.

“You clearly have never done this before” she laughed at him, turning Tom’s face red.

She stepped off the curb, to be seen clearly by the oncoming traffic, put out her arm and a cab was there in seconds.

“So I guess I’ll see you around” he said while pulling Y/N into a hug.

His touch made her hyper aware and same could be said for Tom. Y/N started to pull out but stopped half way. It felt like they were both looking inside each other’s soul through their eyes.

“Ay, lovebirds, you comin or not”, the cab driver screamed making them break away. He got in and Y/N closed the door for him. That’s when her phone pinged.

Haz: where are you, I’m going out.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland self insert #clandestine #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield #marvel #marvel fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spiderman #taylor swift

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cloud9in · 4 years ago

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Encounter (Mc x Veronica)

Summary: Veronica goes out for drinks one night and finds herself in a situation where she needs saving. Good thing Bea exists right?

This fic was highly inspired by my boo @fundamentalromantic. Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you enjoy it.

Word count: 2,300

Warnings: Violence, implied sex, but 80% banter

Tags: @samanthadalton @satrinadia @clowneryme @thedaft1 @alccaddsccup @penda-bear (tagged some people who I thought would like to read)

A day before moving into Belvoire, Veronica decided she should get a feel of the area. New York was far different from the usual quietness of her small hometown in California. But on the bright side, the vlogger would get a ton of content for her Youtube channel in the buzzing city where people never sleep. The first few days of exploring involved bar hopping and recruiting Chloe to help her film in Soho and Chinatown for beauty week. Poppy took part in Veronica’s tour as well, and on Thursday the girls decided to check out the newest night club that opened up.

Veronica stepped out of the car in a sparkly thigh-length dress with a slit, and black Louboutin heels. It definitely caught the attention of people standing outside the club, a few guys even attempting to approach her in their drunken state. Chloe basked in the attention, flirting with a blonde-haired guy who was clearly overdressed (in her eyes). Poppy dragged Chloe with her and the three girls walked swiftly past the long line of people and up to the bouncer. It didn’t take much effort to have him open the door for them, being as they were the three hottest people on the block, but Veronica also did have a killer reputation at just about any place she stepped foot in.

An hour into partying and Veronica held her phone up as her livestream watched them all do a round of colorful tequila shots. The vlogger definitely felt the warm buzz of booze swimming through her veins as her muscles started to relax. New York was the place to be right now and more eventful than all of the years she lived in Cali. Veronica was excited to continue her career and studies in a place like this, but her peaceful thoughts are quickly cut off when someone approaches her, the smell of cheap alcohol invading her senses.

“What’s a tigress like you doing in a raunchy place like this baby?” Veronica rolled her eyes at the hideous effort of flirting by a man who reeked of “just got divorced and into younger women”. His friends (who were probably part of the same club) seemed to laugh around him, encouraging the unwanted behavior. She shook her head and turned away from him in her chair. Don’t let some idiots ruin your night V, have some fun.

She immediately stiffened when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, the wet feeling of his alcohol soaked beard grazing against her cheek. Veronica jerked up abruptly, shoving the man away from her and placing her arms up in defense. “Get the fuck off of me.”

At this point people started to stare at them, Poppy and Chloe already standing by the Zeta’s side with anger. Veronica had left her phone on the table but the stream kept going, capturing the voices of patrons in the bar getting increasingly louder. The bearded man watched her with a predatory look on his face, well aware of the crowd that was forming around them. He grunted and turned away after realizing he probably couldn’t take on three women at once, atleast not in the way he imagined. Chloe scoffs loudly, crossing her arms, “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re scared of us. Pathetic piece of garbage.”

Yeah....bad idea Chlo.

When he whipped around to face them, Veronica finally noticed just how large his muscles were, and how they were straining against his shirt. Oh shit.

“What did you say to me bitch?”

Veronica shot a nasty glare at Chloe before facing the stranger once again, her arms slightly trembling. “Look, let's just forget all of this and move on with our night. Don't mind my friend...she’s just..” Veronica leans closer, mocking a whisper, “it’s that time of the month.” The guys laughed at her comment and she silently breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this would make them back off. The last thing Veronica needed was to get her ass handed to her on live, with thousands of people watching. Poppy stood there eyeing the men, her hand already on the tip of her phone, ready to speed dial her dad, or the cops...or her therapist if things went awry.

Chloe sneered at Veronica, her awful balance making her stumble as she stepped closer to the men. She clearly had too much to drink. “Oh please, I’m not sorry for anything that comes out of my mouth, even if it includes vomit!” She points a finger in their direction, “give me your best you motherfuc- mmh!”

Poppy clamps one hand straight onto the blonde’s mouth before she can spit out any more profanity. Her face a mixture of annoyance and fear as the men start to lose their smiles. Veronica can see the bearded man getting ready to lunge at her and her flight or fight instincts seemed to kick in at the last second. She dodged the hand that tried to grab her, but he caught her leg as he was spent sprawling down on the ground from something behind. She yelped and kicked free of his hold before catching the gaze of a woman who stood a few feet away from her. Their eye contact was immediately broken as the stranger glared down at the man, “hands off the lady.”

Two men from the group with buzzcuts tried to grab hold of the brunette’s arms but she spins easily and kicks one right in between the legs, making him fall in pain. The other guy tried to knock her down from behind but she locked his arm in an odd and excruciating position, “do you really want to do this?” His persistence led her to pull on his elbow, eliciting a scream from the man until he surrendered and scurried away, along with the rest of their crew.

The brunette swiftly kicks the bearded man in the abdomen after seeing him trying to get up, “stay down you asshole.”

She wipes a trickle of sweat from her forehead and huffs out, “I’ve wrestled pigs bigger than these guys, but damn that was a workout.” Unbeknownst to the woman, it was all caught on tape and would be everywhere, including Belvoire’s hottest gossip blog the T. But she doesn’t have to worry about that because she doesn’t go there, right?

Veronica gapes at the girl who single handedly became her hero, in tight leather pants. The curly-haired woman noticed the speechless expression on her face and smirked. “Well if I were you guys, I’d leave this place before the cops miraculously show up.”

“Somebody should call the police! These- these bimbos tried to kill us-”

Chloe earns another hand on her mouth as Poppy starts to push her towards the exit, “Oh yeah the only bimbo here is YOU, go and sit in the car before you end up in a jail cell.”

Veronica turns away from the chaotic scene and notices that the brunette has gotten closer to her. She can feel her throat starting to heat up, and it was enough to take her mind off what just happened. The Zeta girl tries to take a step and immediately feels her heel slip sideways, but the woman captures her hands and steadies her before she can fall. “Woah- careful there. Maybe we should walk outside? This club is starting to get crowded.”

They step around the man sprawled out on the floor. Yeah someone will probably come get him, no worries. Veronica lets her lead the way until they both step out to the curb. The brunette helps her sit down on the edge of the sidewalk before taking a seat next to her. “You know, I can’t keep living life without knowing the name of my savior.”

The mystery girl barks out a laugh as she siddles closer to her. She holds out her hand, hoping that Veronica would grab it, “Bea, Bea Hughes. And you?”

Veronica stares at her wide-eyed, a not so sarcastic gasp escaping her lips, “You-you don’t know who I am?”

“...Should I?”

Bea scrunches her eyebrows in confusion before snapping her fingers, “Oh wait! You’re a Kardashian..!” That earns her a hard smack to her leg but she can only laugh teasingly.

“I think that was the most disrespectful thing someone has ever said to me....You’re very lucky you’re cute. Oh and it's Veronica.”

Bea bites her lip shyly, “You’re too beautiful to be one of them...Veronica. And you definitely look all real to me.”

“Okay if you’re trying to seduce me, this is NOT the way to go Hughes.”

They both bust out laughing and Veronica wraps her arm around Bea’s, letting herself sink into her side. “Thank you by the way...I mean, not like I couldn’t handle it myself.” She shrugs and looks down at their entangled arms, squeezing tighter, “I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing Veronica. I’m just grateful I was there as well. This ain’t the first time those goons have harassed women in the area.”

“Judging by that southern accent and fighting skills, I’m guessing you’re not from here?”

Bea smiles down at Veronica, studying her bright hazel eyes and luscious lashes. “No I am not, but….if you want to know more about me, how about over a drink? If you want to.”

The Zeta girl laughs softly, nudging her, “Oh so you do know how to flirt Hughes. Let's do it! But um..it might be a little difficult to do that because my heel is broken.”

Bea peers down at her stilettos which seemed to be way past 7 lives now and smiles to herself. In one swift motion she scoops Veronica up in her arms bridal style. The vlogger gasps in surprise before wrapping her arms around the brunette’s neck. “Our problem seems to have disappeared already. And you are incredibly light like a feather.” Bea teases the Zeta, lifting her in an up and down motion.

“That’s because I’m 40% alcohol right now, but do keep me in your arms, perfectly convenient for me.”

“You mean I get to carry a stunning woman in my arms free of charge? This must be heaven..”

“Okay Ms. Flirt, keep walking I’ll direct you where to go.”

Bea fought the urge to tease her about trying to be dominant but the voices of Poppy and Chloe caught their attention. She approached the car where Chloe sat…wailing hysterically..?

“I don’t want to go to prison! Don’t let them take me Poppy please!” The blonde grabs Poppy’s dress and doesn’t let go, desperately looking around. When Bea finally stops in front of them, Poppy looks over at the two women and rolls her eyes, clearly fed up.

“Poppy what the hell is happening with Chlo?!” Veronica breathes out, even though this is the last place she wants to be.

“Chloe thinks I called the cops on her and she said she doesn't want to sleep on a concrete bed with two other women in a prison cell.”

Bea raises an eyebrow as she watches the two Zeta girls stare at each other like they’re used to what was happening right now. Veronica gives Poppy a stern look, essentially telling her “leave me alone, I’m trying to get laid”, and the strawberry blonde catches on quickly. She turns away, sighing heavily, “Go, I’ll deal with this. But be at the house tomorrow, it's our first day back.”

The Zeta grins and blows her a kiss, signaling for Bea to carry on down the sidewalk as she lays in her arms barefoot. Poppy watches them walk away and roll her eyes.

“So, should I ask?”

“I think you would appreciate it if I didn’t tell you.”

The brunette laughs easily, crossing the now empty street. The more she walked the direction that Veronica guided her to, the more quieter it got. “Um… V. Where exactly are we going..?”

“You’ll see. It’s a secret spot. Kind of like a speakeasy, except it’ll just be the two of us and we can do whatever we want.” Veronica flips her hair seductively, catching Bea’s gaze as she bites her lips and winks. The brunette can feel her heart starting to beat faster, her breath hitching in her throat. She barely can move her gaze off of Veronica’s hazel orbs, her cheeks reddening at the girl’s shameless comment.

Lucky for Bea (or maybe not), their night was just getting started, and Veronica would have her blushing again, but this time on her knees.

***

Veronica saunters confidently into the gates of Belvoire on move-in day, watching as others run around campus with luggages and bags. She sips on the iced latte in her land, eyes glued to her phone on the other hand. She eventually finds Chloe yelling at some assistant girl and immediately turns around, not wanting to deal with it. A woman with a suitcase and a grey Henley shirt approaches the blonde, reprimanding her for her rude behavior. The video of the fight last night appears on the T just as Veronica looks at her phone again. Bea’s leather jacket appears on-screen and knocks the man down. Veronica smirks as she watches the woman take on 3 men effortlessly. People around start to point at the brunette while looking at their phones, and Veronica doesn’t look up until two voices that appear to be arguing, get louder. She nearly drops the cup of coffee in her hands when she sees the same face that was between her legs the previous night.

And as Poppy approaches Bea, the brunette catches a glimpse of familiar hazel eyes and ombre colored hair and her eyes go wide. “...Veronica..?” Oh shit.

#playchoices #queen b #veronica lombardi #mc x veronica #veronica contentttttt #I definitely want to write more for her #if you want to be tagged on any veronica fics let me know

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styleshollands · 4 years ago

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KIWI | t.h.

Summary: Tom goes to a Harry Styles concert expecting a good time but instead is met with his girlfriend, Y/N, singing a much too intimate song with the star of the show.

Warnings: angst! platonic!best friend!harry 🥺 jealous!tom with a little heartbreak but da fluff! comes through at the end :)

Pairing: singer!female!reader x Tom Holland

A/N: this is super long and all over the place but i hope you like it! my requests are open!

"Man, I'm really excited to see Harry Styles tonight! Filming in London just got so much better." Zendaya spoke with a huge smile on her face. Tom, Harrison and Jacob all agreed with her in unison, feeling quite jittery themselves. "You know, I heard he's bringing out a guest for one song, I wonder who it'll be." Harry quizzed aloud, causing the group to spring into a debate about who it'd be. Tom stayed silent, feeling a little ache in his heart. He had been apart from his girlfriend, Y/N, for only a day due to her rehearsals and his filming which he usually would be able to deal with but tonight was different. Harry Styles was Y/N's best friend. The two were always attached at the hip, enough to the point where any third person around the pair would feel like the odd one out. Harry always made Tom think of you, which he didn't mind usually but tonight he did. He wanted you to be there with him singing along, having the time of your life. Tom himself was quite close with Harry and he admired the friendship you two shared so, not having you here tonight was really getting him down. But, he put on a smile, getting ready to enjoy the night and cheer Harry on for the both of you.

"Alright London, for this last song I'm gonna bring out a very special guest." The crew's ears heightened at this, Tom feeling especially excited to see the guest. "In fact, I actually wrote this song about her. She's been my best friend for ages now and we've had a lot of adventures together." Harry spoke with a chuckle and it seemed that the fans had gotten the hint as well as all of Tom's friends but he was still dazed. It couldn't be you, you would've told him. Before his thoughts could continue, Harry spoke up again, "So, London, put your hands together for the very special and beautiful, Y/N L/N!" and out you walked in all your glory. You sported red silk trousers with a flare at the bottom, a black lace tanktop, that fit your body perfectly and a red silk blazer to go overtop. To top the look off, a big red bow made of toule was tied around your neck. When you stood next to Harry, you two looked perfectly in sync. He sported the same style but in yellow and purple. "Hi London! Just F.Y.I, I made him say all that." You said with your signature smirk adorning your face. The crowd broke into an uproar of cheers and Harry laughed in the mic and said, "'Tis true, I really don't like her that much." At which you shoved him. You two continued your banter on the stage, interacting with fans while Tom sat starstuck. "Holy Shit! It's Y/N!" Harrison said causing the group to break out in cheers. "Aye, that's our girl!" Zendaya said, sporting a proud grin. "I can't believe it's her, she didn't tell me anything about this." Tom said, feeling dejected, an unkown and uncomfortable feeling of jealousy settling over his heart as he watched Harry pull you into his side, telling jokes to the crowd to which you fondly laughed. "I think it slipped her mind, mate, relax." Harrison piped up, sensing that his best friend felt excluded and forgotten. Tom only nodded, keeping his eyes trained on you, noticing the grin on your face and the way you had your arm slung around Harry's neck, staring up at him with the personification of heart eyes.

"She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes, hard liquor mixed with a little bit of intellect." Harry began the song, looking over at you as you shouted it out at the crowd. You brought your mic up to sing the next part. When the chorus rolled around and both you and Harry's voices were mixing perfectly, the lyrics stung Tom's heart. "I'm havin' your baby, it's none of your business." The moment those words left your mouth, Harry's introduction from earlier rang loud in Tom's mind. "I wrote this song about her". Tom listened to the rest of the song, his mind playing a game of tennis between each lyric and Harry's words.

"When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus, in a black dress, such an actress." - "I wrote this song about her."

"Driving me crazy, but I'm into it." - "I wrote this song about her"

"Hard candy dripping on me 'til my feet are wet." - "I wrote this song about her."

"Shes all over me it's like I paid for it." - "I wrote this song about her."

The song finally ended, Harry and you laced hands and bowed in front of the crowd, thanking them and then walking off. "That was so sick! They killed it!" Jacob said excitedly, no one picking up on Tom's discomfort. They all walked out of the stadium, talking to fans and taking a few pictures here and there. Just as they neared their cars, someone called out, "Guys! Wait for us!" followed by two pairs of footsteps running towards them. Harry and you ran across the street with your hands linked and as soon as you neared Tom, you leaped into his arms. "Hi baby, I missed you!" you said into his ear, to which he grumbled a "yeah me too", leaving you confused but you simply brushed it off, greeting and conversing with the others.

"Tom, why are you being so weird! You were quiet while we were talking to everyone and you were quiet the whole way back! What is up wi-" he cut you off before you could finish, "Why didn't you tell me you were performing tonight?" You looked at him, entirely confused, reaching for your phone. "I did, Tom." you replied while unlocking your phone and pulling up the texts. "Look I said it ri-, oh shit!" your eyes scanned over the texts, seeing what you had told him, "hey bub, im rehearsing tonight for the concert, sorry i didn't tell u earlier, it's a bit last minute! i'll see u soon, love u" "Tom I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was typing, this text was meant to tell you about the concert. I'm sorry, that's on me." you said feeling guilty about not informing him, making him feel completely out of the loop, which he hated. "Yeah it's okay, I was overreacting anyway, let's just go to bed." Tom said, the lyrics of the song still ringing in his mind. Before he could walk away, you tugged on his arm, pulling you both down onto the couch. "Thomas, I know you better than this, I know somethings bothering you so please tell me what it is." He sucked in a deep breath and began, "That song you both performed together, he said he wrote it about you, the lyrics, t-they were so, so intimitate, it, uh, sounded like you guys have had more than just a platonic relationship and I-i guess that made me, uh, real uncomfortable." he finished with a blush adorning his cheeks and a few tears pooling in his eyes. "Oh, Tommy, I'm so sorry, it's not like that at all! Harry and I wrote this song together about 5 years ago and it's actually just this joke we have, even among the fans, about a night that never happened! All of the lyrics are pulled from imagination, I promise! I totally would've told you about it but to be honest, I completely forgot about it, it was so long ago and so unimportant. Still, that's no excuse and I'm so sorry it made you uncomfortable." You let out, grabbing his hand tightly, afraid to let him go. "Oh my God, that's such a relief." He sighed out, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. "Jesus, I almost died of heartbreak. I love you and thank you for clearing that up." "I'm so sorry baby, I love you so much." You pulled him into a soft kiss, caressing his arms, as if telling him how much you love him and only him.

#tom holland fluff #tom holland and y/n #dating tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #harry styles #tom holland blurb

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franki-lew-yo · 4 years ago

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I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

youtube

#animation #animation on tumblr #2d animation #3d animation #traditional animation #hand drawn animation #Franki's Features

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dale-the-human · 4 years ago

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Never Eat Soggy Waffles (VENOM 2 TRAILER ONESHOT)

Based on the latest trailer for "Venom 2 Let there be Carnage," specifically the fantastically chaotic breakfast scene which is perfect and I love every part of it. READ ON AO3

In the films, the sentient, genderless gooey blob bonded to Eddie Brock is often referred to by he/him pronouns so that's what's used here. My headcanon is that Venom couldn't care less what they're called, as long as it's not "it" or "parasite" or "gooey blob."

Too fuckin early.

That was the first coherent thought that went through Eddie's mind as he went through the uncomfortable process of dragging his sluggish brain back to consciousness after twelve hours of something that resembled a coma more than sleep.

He felt something only-semi-gently prod his cheek and opened his eyes to find Venom's face floating so close that if both of them had had noses, they would be participating in what is rather-extremely inappropriately called an "Eskimo Kiss." There had to be a better, more culturally sensitive name for that, but with only half of his brain online, the word was out of Eddie's reach.

The first five times Eddie had woken up to the dramatic visage of Venom's face floating approximately two inches away from his own, he'd been understandably startled. For example, instance number four had resulted in a violent collision with the laptop Eddie had made the mistake of leaving right next to his head.

But a year of morning jumpscares had conditioned Eddie's sympathetic nervous system, and today he barely even blinked.

"IT IS 1PM, EDDIE," Venom said. "I WOULD SAY GOOD MORNING BUT THAT IS NOT EVEN ACCURATE ANYMORE."

Eddie groaned, turning away from him. He grabbed another pillow and shoved his face into it, blocking out the sunlight piercing through the half-broken window blinds. When had those even broken? He didn't care enough to try to remember.

A callous black tentacle very rudely snatched the precious pillow away, then even more rudely smacked Eddie on the cheek.

"WAKEY WAKEY, EGGS AND BAC'Y"

"...What?" Eddie mumbled sleepily. "The hell'd you learn that from?"

"A COMMERCIAL. YOU WERE ASLEEP AT THAT POINT."

"Ah."

Venom had a fascination with human television, and since he required significantly less sleep than Eddie, and Eddie could sleep though pretty much anything, they would often spend the night laid out on the couch, Eddie drooling on the dilapidated cushions while Venom watched anything and everything from football to infomercials to Pawn Stars to The CW.

To Eddie's mild confusion, Venom was particularly fond of Supernatural, He enjoyed learning human lore of monsters and ghosts, and occasionally woke up Eddie to ask if something was real. Even though the answer was almost always "No, and for the love of fuck just let me sleep," the alien still greatly enjoyed the show. Once, he shared with Eddie that his favorite character was Dean because he looked the most like him. Even though Eddie had apologized for laughing so hard, Venom was too embarrassed to ever bring it up again.

After another minute of impatient prodding, Venom successfully got his reluctant host out of bed. It took a combined effort to get both of Eddie's arms into the sleeves of a dingy old bathrobe, then the two of them trudged over to the kitchen, sidestepping a chicken and other assorted detritus they'd been "meaning to clean up" for several weeks now.

"Okay, c'mon, V," Eddie grumbled. "You've gotta let me have coffee today."

NO, the symbiote answered inside his head. WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT THIS, EDDIE. CAFFEINE IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU, AND WE DO NOT LIKE THE WAY IT FEELS.

Eddie sighed, opening the fridge. "You know, you're really bustin' my balls here. It's just coffee. Everyone drinks coffee- I've been drinking it like it's water for the majority of my adult life and look how I turned out."

WE KNOW. THAT'S ONE OF THE MANY DAMAGES YOU SHOULD BE GLAD WE ARE HERE TO FIX. IT'S IMPRESSIVE HOW WELL YOUR BODY FUNCTIONED DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS TO RUIN IT.

"You know what?" Eddie said as he rifled through the shelves of disorganized food. "I'm gonna choose to take that as a compliment."

He grabbed the carton of discount orange juice they'd purchased on a shopping trip several days ago, feeling Venom extend several tentacles from his back.

Eddie purposefully ignored the cacophony of crashing dishware and cookware that followed, diverting his entire focus to pouring himself a glass of cheap OJ as various ingredients and cartons of milk flew around him.

Behind him, he heard Venom turn on the radio and dial it to his favorite station. As misfortune would have it, it turned out to be a song Venom knew well enough to remember the lyrics to, and Eddie was treated to a delightful cover of "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off."

Venom's impression of Louis Armstrong wasn't actually half-bad, but it was a little hard to enjoy while the symbiote belted it out entirely within their shared headspace. Why he elected to project his voice mentally instead of forming a mouth and singing irl, Eddie had no idea. He was tempted to yell at him to shut up, but after a moment of consideration, he decided it wasn't annoying enough to ruin Venom's fun.

Still doing his best not to acknowledge the chaos behind him, Eddie picked up his glass and shuffled over to the crappy little table they used for most meals. Their previous table had been a much larger one, but it had met an untimely demise six months ago when the human-symbiote team had made the unwise decision to practice back-flips indoors.

Eddie sat down, only to be startled when Venom grabbed the table with a tentacle and pushed Eddie's chair closer with a violent shove.

While he waited for Venom to finish whatever unorthodox meal he was preparing, he looked through the stack of mail in front of him.

Another letter from that red-headed freak. Great.

It was almost flattering that Kasady had picked him specifically as the only interviewer he'd talk to, but the psychopath's fixation was disturbing, even for seasoned reporter Eddie Brock.

His thoughts were interrupted by the dramatic arrival of two plates stacked high with every breakfast food he could think of. Half-cooked eggs, burnt sausages, something with mushrooms, a few whole strawberries, pancakes, and waffles, all stacked in one horrific pile and soaking wet with milk and cereal.

TA-DA! Venom said proudly. He held a bottle of ketchup in front of Eddie with one tentacle. KETCHUP?

"Excuse me?" Eddie barely had time to register what Venom had said before the symbiote happily crushed the entire bottle and coated Eddie in a beautiful explosion of red sauce.

YUMMY, Venom purred.

As he sat there, decorated with what looked like a gruesome blood splatter and faced with the unappetizing prospect of eating the breakfast Venom had lovingly prepared for him, Eddie had the same thought as before.

Too fuckin early.

#venom #venom let there be carnage #marvel comics #oneshot #venom trailer #no monster fucking here just wholesome domestic Symbrock #drabble #Symbrock #venom 2 #wholesome symbrock #I wrote this at 5 am y'all #fml #I'm so tired

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schleierkauz · 4 years ago

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Q&A Highlights

Ok so bad news first: My questions were ignored. Cornelia did not clarify any of our death-related theories. Maybe next time.

There was A Lot of other stuff, though so... Enjoy!

- The stream starts with everyone wishing us a happy women’s day! Usually women in Erfurt (where the bookstore people are) get flowers but not today because... you know. Cornelia says America is starting to go back to normal, meanwhile Germany... :| Anyway. Don’t look over here.

- Cornelia says she probably won’t get the vaccine anytime soon because she’s just chilling on her farm anyway and people who have to be out in public/are vulnerable should get it first

- Question: When will Cornelia visit Germany again? In response to this, she gives us some exclusive news, not official yet, heard it here first: She’s gonna move to Italy! Apparently she bought an olive farm there which is cheaper, better for the environment (her current farm will be sold to some people who want to turn it into an organic farm) and obviously closer to Germany so she’ll be here more often. :)

- The 4th Reckless book will be released in English at some point this autumn

- There’s no definite release date for TCoR because she’s busy with Dragonrider but she hopes she’ll have finished writing it by the end of this year

- If she’s still alive after all that to work on Reckless 5, it’ll be the last book of the series... probably. She’s also working on a bunch of smaller projects with her artists in residence

- Question: What are Cornelia’s favorite stories by Jane Austen, the Brontë sister and Shakespeare? She’s not a huge fan of Austen or Brontë because she finds all those repressed emotions too exhausting to read about. With Shakespeare on the other hand she struggles to name a favorite because there’s so much greatness to choose from (she does name MacBeth and Romeo and Juliet though)

- The Black Prince’s legacy in the Reckless timeline may play a role in the next Reckless book or it might evolve into a whole other story. Either way, she’s thinking about it 👀

- Someone asks about Reckless characters and Cornelia says that Kami’en and the Dark Fairy felt very familiar to her from the start in that she always knew who they were as people. She’s not sure why that is. She thinks the Dark Fairy represents many aspects of womanhood, like the ancient forgotten Goddess. Same with Fox, who embodies different sides of that.

- If Cornelia had to date a man from the Mirrorworld, Kami’en would interest her

- Rainer Strecker randomly joins the chat to say hi and everyone is delighted

- Cornelia’s favorite book series is still Lord of the Rings

- Question: Why has the Black Prince never found his true love? Cornelia says she’s not sure that’s true - maybe he did found true love at some point and then lost it again? ‘...and they lived happily ever after’ isn’t a guaranteed outcome after all. Since he’s such a passionate man, she’s pretty sure he’s had at least one big lovestory at this point. She hasn’t asked him about that yet but hopes she’ll find out when she continues writing his story.

- Jumping off that question, Cornelia says she respects her characters’ privacy and lets them keep their secrets until the time comes to ask about them, just as she would with real people.

- Someone asks if Cornelia has ever written herself into a story and she says a part of her is in all her characters. Except the villains because she hates them. She feels closest to Fox because she also always wished she could shapeshift

- The bookstore lady jumps in and asks about Meggie, is she similar to how Cornelia was as a child? Cornelia says yes, especially because she also had a very close relationship with her father and they would bond over books. However, she always envisioned Meggie with dark hair and as a different kind of girl than she was. (Ok sidenote from me on that, I wonder what she means by ‘dark hair’? Because Meggie is explicitly blond, so like... dark blond? Or did we just unlock brunette Meggie in 2021? Cornelia-)

- Continuing the conversation, Cornelia says she doesn’t consider herself the creator of any of the characters in her stories, she feels like she met them and wrote about him but she would never say something like ‘I invented Dustfinger’ because that’s absurd. How would that even work. That’s disrespectful. No.

- Some characters pretty much demand to be written about and are very impatient (like Jacob), others are more shy and elusive and take effort to understand (like Will or Dustfinger)

- There probably won’t be another book like The Labyrinth of the Faun because it was created under such unbelievable circumstances. Cornelia does enjoy writing film scripts, though, like she did for the Wild Chicks recently

- Question: How does Cornelia come up with character names? She has a bunch of encyclopedias and when she knows where a story takes place she checks if there are any artists from there whose names she can steal. She always wants names to have meaning and to paint a picture of whatever character it belongs to. However, she says that sometimes the vibe of a name is a tricky thing: When she wrote The Thief Lord (which takes place in Italy), she thought ‘Mosca’ was the perfect name for a big strong boy. However when the time came to translate the story into Italian, the Italians told her that ‘Mosca’ sounds like the name of a tiny little fly. Oh well.

- Cornelia says a lot of readers have written to her about The Thief Lord because at one point Victor (the detective) calls Mosca (who is black) a “Mohrenkopf”. Context: ‘Mohrenkopf’ is a German slur towards black people and also an outdated name for this goddamn marshmallow cookie:

Fuck this cookie.

- Cornelia says yeah, Victor is being racist in that moment but that doesn’t mean that she, the author, is racist. Similarly, she used the term ‘Indians’ in Reckless and a lot of readers were upset which she did not anticipate. To her it’s a positive word since she admires ‘Indians’ so deeply and finds terms like ‘Native/Indigenous Americans’ very complicated. She wonders how much longer she’ll be allowed to say ‘Black Prince’

- She thinks it’s right to be vigilant about bigotry but simply searching for problematic words is dangerous because context matters

- Bookstore lady brings up Pippi Longstocking and how the N-word has been removed from modern copies (think Pippi’s father). She think’s it’s wrong because the original text is part of the cultural heritage and shouldn’t be hidden from children but instead explained.

- Cornelia says that in America she sees the hurt that’s connected to that word but she doesn’t think it’s right to simply remove the slur and expect everything to be fine. After all, the text in which it was used is still the same so any harmful ideas would still be in there and that needs to be discussed. Simply whitewashing things doesn’t make them any less racist.

- Cornelia brings up a visual example: The Asterix comics. She always liked them but the fact that the only black character is drawn as a racist caricature is harmful and wrong. It’s time to listen when black people express how hurtful depictions like that can be. Many white people never noticed racism growing up because it never affected them and that’s why it’s important to learn

- The ‘from rags to riches’ American dream was usually reserved for white people and Cornelia thinks a lot of (white) people are waking up to that fact. The way black people are still being criminalized and the way prisons use inmates for cheap labor is horrible and like a modern kind of slavery

- The bookstore people try to say something but Cornelia is not done: We Europeans are not off the hook either because the sins and wounds of colonialism are still felt around the world, not to mention the way other countries are still exploited today. Our wealth rests on the shoulders of poorer nations. Many doors are opening and it’s difficult to step through but we have to do it and admit to the things we may have been blind to due to privilege.

- The three of them agree on that and go back to reading questions

- Question: What are Cornelia’s tips for young authors? She advises to never start writing a story on a computer, always get a notebook and collect ideas & pictures for your story. Don’t rush things. If you have more than one story, give each story its own book and feed whichever one is hungry. It’s important to follow the idea where it leads, if you use cliches your readers will recognize them. And then it just takes time and passion. And trust in your own unique voice. She paraphrases a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson who once said no one cares about stories or characters or whatever, people read books to see the world through the goggles the author puts on them. I’m sure he said it prettier, I’m paraphrasing the paraphrase.

- That said, Cornelia thinks authors who say things like “I’m writing to express my innermost turbulences” are kinda dumb. She thinks it’s important to write about the things that happen everywhere else and around yourself and to try to find voices for others, not just yourself. Just like how carpenters build furniture for everyone else, a writer should use words to build things for others, whether it’s a window or door or a hiding place.

- Speaking of notebooks, as most of us probably know Cornelia has a lot of those and occasionally publishes them on her website. She says she’d love to let people look through them in person, maybe at the new farm in Germany (Cornelia sure does love farms)

- Speaking of writing things on paper, all three of them stress that everyone should write more letters because one day they’ll be old letters and curious people will want to read them, just as we like to read old documents now.

- Last question: How come both the Inkworld and the Mirrorworld feature a character called Bastard? Cornelia thinks that’s a good question and she should probably think about that. (Am I stupid? Are they talking about Basta? I’m confused)

...And with that, the livestream ends. They’ll get back together to do this again two months from now, until then: I’m going tf to sleep

#its 4am fuck me this took SO LONG-#cornelia funke #info #reckless #inkheart #man this was a long one #a lot to unpack here #thanks cornelia i have more questions now hdfhkjghd #i googled way more slurs than i had planned for today ngl #i really really hope i managed to accurately translate especially that part of the conversation #honestly i cringed a bit hearing them talk about it #but it is an important discussion i suppose #also @ the people who actually read my tags:#thank you for the good luck wishes for my interview today!! it went really well!#i was vibrating the entire time bc its been so long since i talked to a stranger #but i got the job :) so all is well

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

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Gone Clubbing

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Coming hot from the Red Flag update, I wrote this chapter that is in a very similar light. It fits the story, so you can't blame me :P Enjoy!

The interior of the club was looking surprisingly normal. Dark colors, tasteful wooden decorations, tables and booths lining the walls. There was a bar in one corner, but the center of the whole club was undoubtedly the raised stage. It was empty now, Darius’ performance didn’t start yet, so Eren took the lead and maneuvered them towards the reserved booth.

Looking around, he realized one thing. Hey, they even fit here! Mikasa was looking amazing as ever and her goth getup worked well with the overall vibe of the club. Eren, who was dubbed a clown by both himself and his friends, also got substantially better, because black lipstick and nail polish were very far from the most eccentric clothing they saw.

“Look, that catsuit is the same as one of yours.”, he pointed out, making Mikasa look.

“It is..”, she agreed, inspecting the latex bodysuit of one of the visitors, “I guess Darius is making big bucks with custom-made gear.”

“He is an artist.”

“True that. Everything we got from him is amazing, so I will never disagree with his statements.”

Mikasa’s grey eyes slid towards the bar, pondering the question of “not getting hammered.” She could handle a few more drinks, especially when she asks for something with less alcohol, and there was no reason to just sit here dry.

“Well, I’ll get us something to drink, because I might get thirsty over the course of the evening.“, Mikasa stated, letting the double entendre hang in the air as she stood up and walked in the direction of the bar.

That’s when Eren’s phone rang, and a quick check showed that it was his mother calling. As one does not let his mother go into voicemail, he picked up, curious what she might want. They did see each other a few hours back.

“Mom?”

“E-Eren, you freak!”

That made him blink.

“Come again?”

“I know what you did! Mikasa spilled the beans and now I know… Everything! I don’t remember raising you like this!”

Eyes flying to where his fiancé was, Eren’s mind worked frantically around the words. Carla knew… everything? What did that mean? What did Mikasa tell her? He couldn’t imagine his reserved girlfriend bragging about anything embarrassing in public, so…

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I know that you… you had s… sex in public, Mikasa said so.”

Statement one – Carla was drunk, judging from how she mingled the words.

Statement two- What the fuck?!

Statement three – What on god’s green earth made Mikasa tell Carla such a thing. Fine, it was far from the worst that they’ve done, but still. It’s not something that you boast about to family members, and Eren would rather bite his tongue clear off than walk up to Levi and say: “Hey friend, did you know that I often tie your little sister up and do all kinds of freaky shit to her?”

“Well, I mean…”

But Carla didn’t even let him finish, another accusation flying Eren’s way.

“And you have a tattoo!”

“You said that it looked cool!”

“Yes but…”, she sniffled on the other side, “You were just a tiny little baby yesterday, and today you have a tattoo and a girlfriend and… s-sex… and…”

The sounds she was making were suspiciously like sobs.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes... It’s…”, he could hear her shaky exhale, “I wasn’t here for such a big part of your life, I missed so much.”

“Mom I…”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one who decided to leave. But no more. I promise that I’ll be around much more Eren, I want to remember what you do, I want to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life mom.”

“Bigger part then.”

“Very well.”, he chuckled, “Do you want me to come over and talk?”

“No, I know when I’m drunk. Mikasa’s party was great but I feel like lying down now.”, Carla bit back a yawn, “Also, tell her that she looked beautiful today.”¨

“See? Even you tell me that she’s beautiful and you act all surprised when she tells you that we fu-… I mean that we are intimate. Like seriously, did you think that we were in some sort of celibate relationship where we kiss each other on the cheek and sleep in separate beds?”

“Okay Mr. Libido, where are my grandchildren then?”

If Eren was drinking anything, he would spit it out right now.

“Mom! What the hell?”

“I’m just saying Eren, if I die without seeing a single tiny bundle of joy from you and Mikasa, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“I…”

“Shush, I’ll get out of your hair now. I love you Eren and tell Mikasa I love her too. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

“Now that would make things rather awkward between us.”

“You know what I mean! Once you finally push yourself to action and marry the poor girl, she’s going to be my in-law anyway.”

“Wait, did you say poor?”

“Good night sweetie!”

And with a click, Carla was gone. Putting the phone down, Eren’s eyes were drawn to Mikasa making her way back towards him, two glasses in hand. She moved through the club with her usual predatory grace, easily weaving through the people there, completely in her element. Eren wasn’t the only one watching her, he noticed, several pairs and individuals stole a look at the enchantingly beautiful goth girl that walked in their midst. Maybe it should have made Eren jealous, but all he felt was a pang of foolish pride in his chest. Yes, she’s so incredibly gorgeous, and she’s mine. Look, but don’t touch or we might have a problem. Or who was he kidding, Mikasa would definitely take care of herself. She was the one who, in high school, broke a hand of a guy who touched her without permission.

Reaching her destination, Mikasa slid down to the booth next to Eren, putting the glasses on the table. A bit driven by all the stares, he immediately took the opportunity to grab a sort of possessive hold of her, angling her face so he could kiss her. Way more aggressive and deeper than necessary, but he was buzzed just the right way not to care. Let anyone see how much he loves her. They were in a freaking BDSM club anyway, this was by far not the worst that happened here.

“Well hello stranger,”, she said once they broke apart, her cheeks all flushed and the black lipstick smeared around her lips, “Didn’t know that you were this grateful for the drink”

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Eren took a sip of whatever she brought up, pleasantly surprised. It was good, way better than he expected even, as one would not think that a club like this needed an amazing bartender. There were other reasons why people came.

“Mom called.”, he announced, putting the glass back down, “She knows about our public adventures because you told her. May I know why?”

“Eeh, I couldn’t help it.”, Mikasa had an apologetic smile on her lips, “We were playing truth or dare, and it sort of came up.”

Truth or dare? That did sound like fun, and Eren regretted the dumb argument he got into with the other guys at the bar. Pulling out secrets from Hitch or Krista, or hell, his own mother, would have been amazing. Then again, he was here with Mikasa, they had drinks and the show didn’t start yet. So…

“Wanna have a little game of our own?”

“Why? We know exactly what we did.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to get you drunk.”

“Ooh, you sly bastard.”, Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, “You’re on.”

“Good, I’ll be taking the first word then.”

Eren cleared his throat, raised his glass, and began.

“Never have I ever been suspended from a ceiling.”

“Cheap shot.”, she commented.

“Could be, but still.”, he tapped her glass, “Drink, shibari lover.”

She did so, revenge forming in her head.

“Never have I ever licked someone’s boots.”

“And you talk about cheap shots.”, Eren clicked his tongue but drank.

“Never have I ever done a pole dance.”, he shot back.

Mikasa’s eyes were calculating as she took a sip.

“Maybe we will have to change that.”, she said before firing her volley, “Never have I ever filmed us having sex.”

“That tape is going to be useful one day. And we have so many more to make…”

Mikasa ignored the tingle that it sent down her spine, frowning at her fiancé.

“Sure thing, voyeur.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren drank.

“Never have I ever wore cat ears during sex.”

“Yet.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”, with a mysterious smile, Mikasa drank.

“Never have I ever been in a chastity cage.”

“How the hell is that fair? You literally can’t even be in one.”

“There are similar devices for women, it’s fair play.”

“But…”

“No buts.”, she pointed at the glass in clear command, “Drink, puppy.”

Eren obeyed, eyes studying her even as he spoke.

“Never have I ever stepped on someone.”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it!”

“Sure did,”, Eren agreed, “but that’s not the point of this game.”

Mikasa took a swig, a follow-up in her mind.

“Never have I ever come from a footjob.”

“Dirty.”, a sip, and it was Eren’s turn, “Never have I ever been taken against my will.”

“Can you really call it non-consent when I was the one who came up with the idea?”, Mikasa wondered, clearly just stalling.

“Miki, I still have some of the photos I took of you back then. Should I pull them up as evidence and let the committee decide?”

Defeated by a sound argument, Mikasa drank.

“Maybe we could give it another shot, sometimes soon.”, she said, remembering how strange the experience was.

Terrifying and perfect at the same time, she was scared for her life when the Not-Eren threatened her, he managed to play the role of an abusive bastard so well. Maybe there was something about him being a bad guy in her dreams because at least party he could be such an asshole even in real life. If she begged nicely, that is.

“I’d have to ask Mr. Incognito if he has a free schedule.”, Eren joked, making Mikasa snicker, “But I have a faint feeling that he might squeeze you in.”

“Let’s leave it on open for now, who knows, maybe I will be the one in charge once we get around to the thing.”

That made Eren blink a few times.

“You want to do that to me?”

“Maybe..”, a bit of worry entered her face when she realized that Eren might not be into it. She had to be sure because Mikasa would never force him into something he didn’t want, that was a big No in their relationship.

“Don’t you want me to?”, she asked, but Eren shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I honestly just have a hard time coming up with any scenario where I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Tsk, don’t you worry about that. If I want it, I’ll come up with something.”

“Fine by me. Open it is then.”

With that topic solved, it was time to continue their game. Mikasa’s turn, she thought for a moment before she tried her next line.

“Never have I ever deepthroated a strap-on.”

But Eren was having none of that.

“Nah, but you did, don’t you remember the “class” you gave me?”

“That wasn’t a strap-on, it was a vibrator!”

“Close enough. Drink.”

Murmuring about unfair rules and crooked referees, Mikasa drank with Eren mirroring her.

“Never have I ever had anal sex.”, was his put, and Mikasa snorted in amusement. She couldn’t even count how many times Eren was either the giving or receiving party in anal sex, so she called him out on his bullshit.

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell it out for you?”, Mikasa moved closer, whispering, “Slut.”

It was magical how a single word could make Eren’s crotch tingle.

“No need, I did it on purpose.”, he drained his glass, putting it down, “I like the stuff they serve in here.”

Chuckling, Mikasa followed suit, both their drinks empty. Then, just as Eren was about to get up for a refill, the lights dimmed and the show began.

The figure that walked in on the stage was undoubtedly Darius Zackly, and he was followed by not one but two women, the player. One was dark-skinned and the other very pale, almost as much as Mikasa. To contrast their natural look, each wore lingerie of the opposite color, white on black and black on white, complete with high heels on their feet. No one spoke, the trio bowed to the crowd instead, almost dramatically, while two rings descended from above, stopping to hover over them.

Keeping his mysterious air, Darius held out a hand and the pale girl moved, grabbing a rope from the cart in the back and handing it to him. With the silky thing in hand, Zackly began his performance. He worked on the black girl first, coming up with an intricate design. Even the rope was white, Mikasa realized, a stark difference to the model’s skin. First, Darius tied her hands behind her back. The second rope went around her chest, tying her breasts in a very familiar design. Then he guided a rope through the metal ring, one that went from her tied hands to the chest bondage. With that, the ring rode up a bit, forcing the model to stretch her body and anchoring her in place.

“Isn’t the chest bondage the one you used on me?”, Mikasa whispered to Eren, recognizing the shapes.

He studied the way Darius worked the ropes for a moment.

“It is, you have a good eye. Although the binding on her hands is different than the one I used on you.”

“Because you tied me all the way from wrists to elbows.”, she made a tiny frown appear on her face, “I couldn’t move my hands at all.”

“Only the most secure bondage for a beast like you.”, he chuckled, kissing Mikasa’s scarred cheek, “I can’t edge you unless you are properly bound, otherwise you take control of the situation.”

“You better keep those skills up then.”

“For you Miki? Anything.”

The performance continued while they talked, and Darius was now working on the model’s legs. He didn’t touch her right leg, but her left was picked up and bend at the knee. Ropes sneaking around the limb, Zackly immobilized it, and that was it for the black girl. She was now balancing on one leg, but with the ropes pulling her up it wasn’t that much of a strain. With one model done, Darius turned his attention to the pale girl.

Retrieving a few more ropes from the cart, black ones this time, he closed the distance to his partner. Following the same path as before, Zackly tied her hands and chest first, copying the pattern. But then the show changed. He didn’t secure the model to the ring, he made her lie down instead, kneeling and working on her legs like that, with her on the floor. The ring started descending at the same time, going very, very low. Done with the design, Darius pulled the rope up and into the ring, anchoring it. And that’s when Eren realized what was happening.

“He’s hanging her upside down.”

“Ooh, that looks like fun.”, Mikasa poked Eren in the shoulder, “Why don’t you do that to me?”

“Eh, I don’t prefer it. When you are upside down, blood goes to your head quickly, so you have to be very mindful of the time. When I tie you up, I like to go slow, really enjoy you.”

“Hmm.”, Mikasa’s eyes were back on the performance.

She was chewing on something in her mind, and Eren had a chuckle when he realized what it was. So many things that they’ve done and Mikasa still had trouble asking him for something.

“We can try it if you want.”, he offered, making her face light up.

She leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips followed by a gentle whisper.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Just then the whirring resumed, and the ring began ascending, pulling the pale girl up. Upwards she went, until her whole body was off the floor and hanging from the ring, her blonde hair cascading around her face. It was the hangman position, Eren realized. And when Darius took a step back, both Mikasa and he finally took in the thing Zackly created as a whole. Contrast, that was the centerpiece of his performance. One girl was standing while the other was hanging upside down, both in the exact same position. One was dark-skinned yet wearing white lingerie and tied by a white rope, while the other was pale, wearing black and tied by a black rope. It was bondage, but at the same time it was art, and from the murmur that ran through the club they weren’t the only ones who realized that. The old man was an artist, no matter how you put it.

With a bow from Darius, his performance was finished. Both Eren and Mikasa joined in on the applause that resounded through the club, the show he put on was amazing. Once the ruckus began to die down and everyone got their fill of ogling the beautiful bondage design, Zackly untied the ladies while talking to them, laughing here and there. It was an interesting dynamic to see them like this, relaxed around each other, it betrayed that they all have been in this business for some time.

“Hello?”

As they were both watching the stage, neither Eren nor Mikasa saw the couple approach them. The woman was tall, made even taller by the extremely high heels on her shoes. It was the one that Eren noticed earlier, dressed in a latex bodysuit of the same design as one of Mikasa’s. The man at her side was much less eccentric, wearing jeans and a shirt, but when he nodded his head in greeting Eren saw that there was a collar around his neck, marking him as a property of the lady next to him.

“Hi,”, the woman repeated, “Did you like the show?”

Mikasa took the lead in answering.

“Yes, it was great, very artistic too.”

“That’s Zackly for you,”, the woman smirked, “He is amazing at what he does.”

“But we didn’t come here to fawn over Darius,”, that was the man speaking, nudging his partner, “Did we, sweetie?”

“Right, no, we didn’t. We came to talk to you for a reason.”

“Which is?”, Eren asked.

The woman faced Mikasa when she spoke, the words aimed at her.

“I hope that we aren’t too straightforward, but my husband saw you at the bar, and he was quite taken by you.”

Eren had to bite back a laugh at how Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“H-huh?”, was all she managed.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to do a partner exchange for a night or two, maybe a weekend.”, the collared husband took the word, “If you guys are into it, of course.”

“He’s a bottom, as you might have guessed,” the latex-clad woman followed up, “and from watching you I’d guess that you are the top in your relationship? You have that air of dominance around you.”

“I-I do?”, Mikasa choked out, much to Eren’s amusement.

But he wasn’t spared either, as the woman’s eyes slid over to him.

“You don’t have to worry either pretty boy, I promise that I’d take good care of you. I’m an experienced dominatrix.”

Now it was Eren’s eyes widening. He and Mikasa looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Seeing their slight panic, the man grinned.

“I feel like we started with a wrong question, we should have asked if you are in an open relationship first.”

“That’s right, our fault.”, the woman agreed immediately, “Sorry if we are making you uncomfortable with this.”

Finally understanding what this was about, Mikasa blushed but reached out, taking hold of Eren’s arm.

“No, we are not open.”, she said, meeting the woman’s eyes, “We are very closed.”

“Yep, just me and her, no one else.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, you guys are something else.”, the woman clicked her tongue, “Oh well, can’t have everything.”

“We will take our leave then.”, the man said, unbothered by the refusal, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he walked away and deeper into the club. The woman stole a last wanton look at Eren before following, her heels clicking against the floor. The stunned silence that came didn’t even get a chance to properly cook before a new figure appeared. Familiar one this time, it was Darius who slid into the booth, grinning at the pair.

“Eren! Mikasa! I knew that I saw you!”

His joy was infectious, and the cold feeling was being melted by his presence alone.

“That was an amazing show,”, Eren complimented him straight off the bat, “You are so good with the rope.”

“Bah, just years of training. Plus judging from our talk, you are pretty good yourself, the forms you wanted to do were rather advanced.”, his gaze went over to Mikasa, “Isn’t that correct, miss Ackerman?”

She nodded, feeling way more relaxed around Darius than the two from before. But his mention of her, Eren’s significant other, combined with how the pair talked about open relationships and brought a question out of Mikasa, one that she was pondering ever since they entered the club.

“Darius, aren’t you married?”

“Sure am.”

“And your wife… does she know about this?”

“But of course, I don’t think that keeping such a big thing secret is a good idea.”, Zackly sighed, “I keep trying to make her come here, but this scene doesn’t interest her at all.”

“So she doesn’t mind you working with other women?”

“Not at all, she knows that I appreciate the art in bondage, not the sexuality.”

“That’s very open-minded of her.”

“I mean, I work in a sex shop,”, Darius shrugged, “I never kept what I like hidden.”

Smart approach, if they ever heard one. Seeing that he satisfied Mikasa’s curiosity, Darius put forward his idea.

“Are you liking the club?”

Two heads nodded to that.

“What about the performance, looked like fun, right?”

“For sure.”

Well then…

“The thing is, you guys could perform here too if you wanted.”

“W-What?”, Eren exchanged a bewildered look with Mikasa, “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I?”, Darius continued, completely unmoved, “How long have you two been in this biz?”

“A bit over four years at this point?”, Eren guessed and Mikasa agreed silently.

“And I’d guess that you have the skills for it.”

“I mean…”

But they did, all the plays and scenes they did together amounted to a fair amount of skill when it came to the act. Mikasa knew how to maneuver her sub expertly, Eren knew how to tie her up without worrying that he might hurt her. The experience did matter. Having a quick mental conversation, they both agreed in the end.

“See? I’m willing to bet that either of you could easily take the stage. Forgive me for saying, but you two are very, very hot. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that you two are the hottest couple I’ve seen here, and you would be in high demand.”, he gestured around, “If I walked around the club and asked every single person in here if they would perform with you, I’m pretty sure that I could count the number of “No.” on fingers of one hand.”

He redirected his attention to the pair.

“From the various gear I sold you, I’d guess that you are both switches, right?”

This time it was Mikasa who answered, agreeing cautiously.

“See? Even better. The possibilities would be endless..”

This felt like the same conversation they had with the pair from earlier.

“Look, the thing is, I don’t think that either I or Mikasa would be willing to ever perform with anyone else.”, Eren cut into his monologue, “We are very… possessive of one another.”

Mikasa was again just nodding to his words, shuffling closer and wrapping her hand around Eren’s waist. He did the same, surprising her a bit when Eren pulled Mikasa to sit on his lap. Talk about needing to express your attachment physically.

“We are super exclusive to each other.”

Seeing that and hearing her words, Darius grinned.

“You guys are just adorable. This devotion you have, this is rare to see and it’s so beautiful.”

“T-Thanks.”

“But still, if you want, you could totally perform as a pair. Even exclusive, seeing one of you work the other would give the guests something to dream about.”

“Look, we will think about it.”

“Of course! No one will ever force you into anything.”, Darius calmed them immediately, “Your comfort and consent are the most important things here.”

He said his piece, got the offer out, and there were still several people he needed to talk to. So bidding the half-confused half-surprised pair a quick goodbye and see you soon, Darius stood up and disappeared towards the bar. Eren was the one who broke the silence Zackly left behind, rubbing Mikasa’s back in a soothing motion.

“So, what do you think?”

She shifted on his lap, chewing her dark bottom lip cautiously for a moment before answering.

“Ask me a year back and I would say No. Ask me two years back and I’d laugh at you. Ask me three years back and I wouldn’t talk to you for a week. But now…”

“Let’s add it to our pile of open topics.”, Eren proposed, “No need to worry about that now.”

With that out of the way, Mikasa grew more relaxed again. Just when Eren was returning from the bar with refilled drinks, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“We should bring Ymir and Krista here.”

“Why is that?”

“Krista needs a confidence boost. She wants to top Ymir, but she keeps questioning herself, so uncertain about it all.”, Mikasa gestured around, “Being here, I think that it could bring her inner domme out.”

“From what I hear you are sure that there will be a next time?”

Realizing the meaning of her words, Mikasa smirked.

“I would want that. I like it here.”

“Ah, look at us – the quiet goth girl from the back of the class and the grade-a student. How far we’ve come.”

“Indeed, but I’m enjoying these changes. Do you?”

“As if you had to ask. When I’m with you, I’ll go for anything, and do you feel like stopping what we do?”

Mikasa’s black lips curled upwards as she shook her head.

“Hell no.”

This year’s birthday was amazing and Mikasa made sure to thank Eren properly once they got home. But the amazing night would have a sadder continuation because, despite all the great fun that she experienced tonight, Mikasa’s dreams were once again disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

A nightmare.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #aot

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kawaiikichi · 4 years ago

Text

Were We? (Saiou Week Day 7)

@saiouweek

Surprise, surprise, I actually managed to write something for Saiou Week! I feel like it could also fall under the prompt “Past Life” for Day 2 but because the past life in this references to them during the killing game and their present life is something completely different, I decided to just post it under free day.

I hope you all like it! :D

Title: Were We?

Prompt: Shuichi’s Birthday or Free Day

Summary: Shuichi has spent over three hundred years as a Grim Reaper, roaming the streets of Tokyo and leading deceased souls to the afterlife. One day, he runs into a purple-haired male whom he has seen in his dreams and it makes him feel emotions he hasn’t felt in god knows how long.

One-Shot Notes: Inspired by the Kdrama Goblin with Shuichi as the Grim Reaper and Kokichi as Sunny; their past life is them in the killing game while their present life is with Shuichi as the grim reaper and Kokichi as a human

Warnings: A sprinkling of angst, NDRV3 spoilers; read at your own risk!

Read on under the cut!

Shuichi walked along the sidewalk, the crisp autumn breeze ruffling his black hair and making his long, black trench coat flutter with each step he took. He stuffed his leather glove-clad hands into his pockets, hoping to warm them as he walked to his destination.

He had no souls to collect and take back to his tea shop until the afternoon, so he decided to take a walk and get himself some coffee before heading to the first accident that was supposed to take place. He also wanted to get away from Rantaro, the immortal goblin that he’s been rooming with as of late. His singing was obnoxious, anyway.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop he frequented, he was met with the warm and comforting smell of baked sweets and freshly brewed coffee. The barista at the counter greeted him, a wide smile on his face. Shuichi greeted him in response as he grabbed for an empty medium-sized cup.

“Americano with no sugar and no cream, correct?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s correct. You know me well, Naegi-kun.” Shuichi told him.

“Well, you come here so often that I know your order by now!” Makoto slid a small plate with a cream cheese danish on it across the counter. “Here’s your danish as well, Saihara-kun.” he said.

“Thank you.” Shuichi replied.

After paying, he went to sit at the window bar. He nibbled on his danish as he watched passerbys walk the streets. He let his mind wander, and just like it usually did, it went to a male whose face he was unable to see.

Recently, Shuichi has been having dreams involving him. They always took place in what the grim reaper assumed to be a school, but it gave off prison vibes and it rubbed Shuichi the wrong way. But what happened between him and the male in that prison-esque school building could only be summarized as eventful and fun.

The male seemed to be a pain in the ass at times, lying all the time and pulling pranks on other people that were at the school, but the times they spent together were nice. They played games in the dining hall, hid away together in the casino, and read books in the basement library until they fell asleep on each other, blankets wrapped around each other with the male’s head on his shoulder and his head resting against the male’s.

These dreams were filled with happiness and love confessions whispered against each other’s lips as they pressed against each on the couch in the AV room, the film they were watching long forgotten. The Shuichi in those dreams was overjoyed and he looked at the male in his arms with love, which confused the grim reaper when he woke up from that particular dream.

Never in his three hundred years of life had he felt such an emotion so raw and passionate.

Fueled by his curiosity, he looked forward to these dreams. He wondered about how the Shuichi in his dreams interacted with this male he was dating and if these two were able to get out of the school that held them captive and away from the black and white robotic bear that played them like a fiddle in this killing game they were thrown into, living happily ever after.

But what the grim reaper dreamed of last night was anything but nice. In fact, it resembled a nightmare. Everything was smeared in darkness and steeped in the pungent, coppery scent of blood. There was mourning over the execution of a guy named Gonta, whose heart was made of gold and who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly (literally). There was screaming, shouting, tears, and words that pierced through the heart like sharpened blades and spilled blood everywhere without mercy, the dream eventually ending with images of a bloodied hydraulic press.

The way the dream ended last night unsettled Shuichi. Those images were still fresh in his mind as he took a sip from his Americano. Bitterness coated his taste buds, but it wasn’t the pleasant kind that he was accustomed to. Instead, it made his nose crinkle and his body tense from the intensity of it.

He didn’t bother finishing this coffee this time and wolfed down his danish before heading out, hoping that the subtle sweetness would overpower the bitterness that lingered in his mouth.

He eventually found himself strolling along a bridge, which seemed unusually quiet for a Monday morning. Well, save for a nearby jewelry booth that he spotted out of the corner. His eyebrow twitched.

Is that even allowed? he asked himself.

He shook his head, clicking his teeth before sighing.

“Whatever. It doesn’t concern me.” he said.

He started to walk past the booth when the owner of the booth called out to him.

“Hey, Mister Handsome in Black!” a chirpy voice called out.

Shuichi came to a stop, wanting nothing more than to tap on his watch and disappear from her sight.

Can’t anybody let me be in peace today? he wondered to himself.

He shot a glance at the owner, who turned out to be a girl in her twenties with wavy black hair and sparkling amber eyes. Her red lips pulled upward into a smile.

“Are you in need of some new accessories?” she asked.

Shuichi turned his body more, lowering his gaze to the sparkling jewelry and then up to the girl, who continued to beam at him.

“These kinds of accessories aren’t my style.” he told her.

Besides, you can tell at first glance that they’re cheap ripoffs of the real thing, his mind supplied for him.

This only made her giggle.

“Oh, no worries! Then, you could get one for your girlfriend. I’m sure it’ll please her very much.” she said.

“I don’t swing that way.” Shuichi told her.

She blinked her eyes, shooting him a dumbfounded look as he continued.

“I have a preference for guys, so buying something for a so-called girlfriend would be pointless.” he told her.

“I see...well, maybe your boyfriend would like something from here!” she said.

Shuichi got ready to tell her that he didn’t have a boyfriend, but she was already reaching for a purple rope bracelet with a simple puzzle piece charm on it.

“Here, you could buy this. It’s simple, but quite cute.” she told him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” he said.

She puffed her cheeks out.

“Come on! It doesn’t even cost that much. I’m sure you could give me a couple yen.” she said, growing more persistent with each word she spoke.

“Really, I’m fine! I don’t want to buy anything—“ he stopped, gold eyes landing on a checkered scarf.

It was just a simple checkered scarf and yet, Shuichi felt a tug in his heart. It was like the scarf was calling his name, begging for him to pick it up and buy it.

His hand started moving on its own before he could stop it. It inches further and further towards the checkered fabric, the tug at his heart growing stronger. His finger brushed along it as another hand appeared in his vision, snatching the scarf up and abruptly snapping him out of whatever trance he had fallen under.

“Oooh, this looks cute! This is totally my style. How much is it?”

Shuichi blinked, looking to his right and locking on a male wispy purple hair that stuck out in all directions. He was shorter than him, making him about five foot one, if he had to guess. The male wore a black and white sawtooth pattern coat with dark denim skinny jeans and black ankle boots.

Almost as if the male knew he was being watched, he turned away from the girl running the booth and locked eyes with Shuichi. The grim reaper felt the wind being knocked out of him the minute it happened. The male’s eyes were a deep shade of purple that sparkled like precious gems in the morning light.

Then, it happened.

Snippets from the dreams he’d been having came slamming into him like a truck, accompanied by a chirpy voice.

“Saihara-chan, let’s play a game!”

“Nishishi! It was just a lie. Or was I lying about that being a lie? The world may never know!”

“I...like you too, Saihara-chan.”

“Ew, I don’t think I can understand why you like black coffee so much.”

“Come oooooooon, Saihara-chan! You promised we’d go swimming!”

“Saihara-chan!”

“Saihara-chan...I’m sorry.”

“...I’ll always love you, Saihara-chan.”

Before Shuichi could process what was happening, a single tear trailed down his cheek. He could only stare at the male with a dumbfounded look on his face.

The male peered at Shuichi curiously, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

“Why are you watching me like that? I saw this first.” he waved the scarf around. “You hear me? I saw it first. First!” he shouted.

However, Shuichi didn’t respond. The male arched a brow as he continued to look Shuichi up and down.

“Wait a minute...are you crying?” he leaned in closer. “Oh shit, you are.” he said.

Minty breath tickled his lips and the minute Shuichi realized how close his face was, he immediately jerked back like he burned himself.

“H-Huh?” he stammered out.

“You were crying just now.” the male pointed out.

“What? I wasn’t—“ Shuichi reached up to touch his cheek and immediately felt the wet tear trail on it.

He dabbed at it in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he shed a tear, let alone if he actually did during the amount of time he’s been alive. Just what the heck was going on?

The male continued to eye him.

“Do you want it? The scarf, that is. I wanted to buy it because it looked neat, but if you want it…” he murmured.

“Uh...I…” Shuichi trailed off.

“Hm? Are you speechless? Is it because I’m so drop dead gorgeous that you can’t say anything?” the male teased.

“Wha…?!” Shuichi gawked at him in shock, cheeks flushing red.

“Nishishi! Aw, you’re adorable when you’re flustered! It makes me want to kiss you.” the male said.

The blush on Shuichi’s cheeks deepened, which only made him giggle more.

“But seriously, do you want it? Because if you do, I’m not gonna give it to you for free.” the male held his hand out to him. “Give me your number.” he said.

“My...number?” Shuichi questioned.

“Yeah? I’m going to need to contact you in regards to this scarf, you know.”

“I don’t have one.”

The male blinked twice.

“Wait. You’re telling me you don’t have a phone?” he asked.

“I don’t have one.” Shuichi replied.

“Why not?”

“I don’t need one, that’s why.”

“How could you not need one? We live in the twenty-first century! Of course you need a cell phone!”

“I just don’t see why I need to have one.”

“Because…!” the male heaved a deep sigh. “Okay, I can’t be doing this right now. I guess that means this scarf will be mine.” he said.

He moved to tie the scarf around his neck, but Shuichi spoke, effectively stopping him.

“W-Wait! Set the scarf down. Write your number down and place it there with the scarf. I’ll call you.” he proposed.

“Weeeeeeell…” he proceeded to twirl some hair around his finger. “We should at least exchange names if that’s how you wanna do it.” he said.

“Okay...well, my name’s Saihara. Saihara Shuichi.” Shuichi told him.

“Saihara-chan? I’ll make sure to remember that, then. I’m Ouma. Ouma Kokichi.” Kokichi introduced.

He reached his hand out for Shuichi to shake. The grim reaper could only stare down at the hand quizzically before redirecting his gaze to Kokichi’s. The purple-haired male watched him expectantly, waiting for Shuichi to shake it.

“If you don’t want to shake it, then that’s fine.” Kokichi turned back to the booth owner. “You said it was thirteen hundred yen, right? I’ll take it.” he said.

He began to fish through his pocket, mumbling to himself about where he put his wallet. Shuichi sighed, reaching into his trench coat and pulling out his wallet. Flipping it open, he pulled out a few bills and handed it to the booth owner.

“Here, I’ll pay for it.” he said.

Kokichi gaped at him in surprise.

“Wait! Saihara-chan, I can pay for it—“

“I already gave her the money. Just let it be.”

The purple-haired male pouted as the girl giggled.

“Aw, how sweet! By the way…” she leaned in closer to Shuichi, which startled him a little. “This scarf costs way more than thirteen hundred yen. The cost for it is...quite hefty, if I do say so myself.” she whispered lowly.

“How much does it cost, then?” Shuichi asked.

“Hm...maybe someone’s memories?” she hummed out in response.

Shuichi eyed her warily, but she only smiled at him brightly as she accepted the money from him. He sighed, withdrawing from her as Kokichi spoke.

“Well, since you bought it, I guess I should let you have it for now.” he handed the scarf to Shuichi along with a slip of paper. “And here’s my number.” he said.

Shuichi took the scarf and paper from Kokichi, examining them. As he did, Kokichi continued to eye him. Upon feeling the set of eyes on him, he glanced back at Kokichi.

“Yes?” he said.

“You know...the more I look at you, the more I feel like I’ve seen you before.” Kokichi commented.

Shuichi’s eyes widened in surprise as Kokichi leaned in towards him, purple eyes scanning him.

“I wonder...were we lovers in a past life or something?” he mused aloud.

“Were we...what?” he questioned, wondering if he heard him correctly.

“Lovers. Maybe we were lovers in a past life.”

“Were we?”

Kokichi shrugged.

“The world may never know.” the sound of a phone ringing reached their ears. “Ah, that’s mine. I’m going to need to go now.” Kokichi said.

He pulled away from Shuichi and began to walk past him.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, my beloved Saihara-chan!” he called out over his shoulder.

“My beloved…?!” Shuichi squeaked as he turned, watching Kokichi wave his hand as he headed down the steps and disappeared from his sight.

Shuichi sighed deeply.

“That was...interesting.” he murmured.

He looked down at the scarf, running a thumb along the fabric before focusing on the piece of paper that had Kokichi’s number on it along with his name and a quick doodle of himself. As he continued to stare at the two items, Kokichi’s question rang in his mind.

“I wonder...were we lovers in a past life or something?”

The bits and pieces from his dreams resurfaced as he thought back on them. This time, the mystery male had wispy purple hair, purple eyes, and a mischievous smile. He gripped the scarf tighter.

He couldn’t help but wonder if these dreams he was having were merely dreams or if they were something. Maybe they were pieces of his memory from his past life that he was told that he shouldn’t remember at all costs.

But if it were indeed those memories that stayed buried within him, locked in Pandora’s box...then Kokichi might be onto something.

#saiouweek #danganronpa v3 #saiouma #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #day 7 #shuichi’s birthday or free day #free day it is!#had this idea circling about in my head forever so here it is #goblin au anyone???#shuichi is the grim reaper #and kokichi is sunny #reincarnation (somewhat)#tw: ndrv3 spoilers #tw: angst #it’s...actually not that shippy i’m sorry ;^;#kawaiikichi

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