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funhouse-mirror-barbie · 4 months ago

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My problem with Sallie May—a discussion of representation:

There’s been some discourse around Sallie May lately that’s gotten me thinking more about her. Not really as a character, but what her purpose is in the narrative and how she’s treated by the fandom and the show’s creators.

Sallie May is an interesting case study in representation without depth, and I wanted to talk a little more about what that means.

OPINION DISCLAIMER—I’m gonna be talking about how I personally view lgbtq+ and queer representation and what I consider to be well-rounded representation vs. empty or shallow representation.

Also. I am only one member of the queer community—I don’t speak for all lgbtq+ people, and I am DEFINITELY NOT trying to talk over other’s experiences. My opinions are my own, and if you agree with me, cool! And if you don’t agree with me, that’s great too!!

Also also. I don’t think I should have to say this but, this is NOT a personal attack on ANYONE involved w/i the production and creation of Helluva Boss. This is my own analysis, b/c I like to talk about media and the ways we interact with and interpret it.

So, with all of that out of the way, if you’re interested in my analysis, let’s talk about Sallie May!! (TLDR @ end of post)

First do want to make it clear that my issue is not actually with her like…existing. Or with her general characterization. Mostly because, even with Hell’s Belles, she still doesn’t really have a very strong characterization to begin with, and isn’t a fully-fleshed out character.

In her initial appearance she was a bit-character, bordering on just being a straight up background character. She had three lines in her debut (and to date, ONLY) appearance in the show proper.

Until Hell’s Belles we knew next to nothing about her other than that she likes violence and also that she has a neighborhood body count? Which. I don’t know if they were trying to imply that she’s a serial killer, I doubt that was the intent. Or maybe they were. I can’t know.

Regardless, I honestly believe they didn’t really think the implications of that writing decision through at all. There’s a very real and very harmful “trans serial killer/murderer” trope in media, and while the impact is definitely lessened by the vast majority of HB characters being violent murderers—it still feels weird having the only trans character we’ve seen at this point be literally INTRODUCED to the audience by the fact that she’s a murderer, and to then be given NO further information on her.

Luckily, we DID get more information about Sallie, even if it was still very little and surface level. In Hell’s Belles we learn that Sallie May and Millie used to be a lot closer, and that Sallie May felt left behind when Millie moved to the big city.

In the short, Sallie May expresses her frustration with having to pick up the slack around their family’s ranch, and that she’s been lonely without Millie there. Millie and Sally have a little heart to heart and are able to make up, and the short ends.

This is a nice little piece of backstory, and does give us slightly more insight into Sallie May and what her life is like, but because the episode is a short, we still really don’t get to know her as a person.

Like Millie, Sallie May doesn’t have any real depth. We only know starter information about her, like that she cares about her family, and that she’s violent.

But unlike Millie, Sallie May is a minor character. She has (at the time of my writing this) appeared in ONE episode of the actual show, and one short. She is a minor character, and the ONLY transgender character in the show with a name and lines.

So. Okay. Why does literally any of that matter??? Who cares if Sallie May is an under-developed minor background character??

Well, in my opinion, it matters because the show-runners frame and treat Sallie May as if she is a main character, without actually writing her—or any trans character for that matter—as a main character.

This really rubs me the wrong way, because it comes across as tokenism.

In my opinion since she was introduced, Sallie May has become a token transgender character—an excuse for the HB writers to not write or develop more transgender, nonbinary, and gender diverse characters and stories, because they already have one.

I worry that, if anyone rightfully points out that HB is severely lacking in gender-diverse characters and storylines, the creators and fandom will point to Sallie May as “proof” that they do have representation.

If HB is as radically queer and LGBTQ+ friendly as it claims to be, why do we only have ONE named trans character in the show’s 5 years of existence?

Due to all of the above, I find I can’t agree with people who praise the show for its representation, because of how stunted it is. I just don’t think I, or anyone, should have to read sources outside of the narrative to learn important parts of a character’s identity.

I feel this very deeply as a lesbian and nonbinary person—I understand that most of the women characters in Helluva Boss are sapphic, but I ONLY know that because of the HB Pride Print that came out just this year. I have not actually gotten to SEE any of these character’s sexualities fully represented, and it’s because of this that I struggle to see myself represented in HB in any way.

I do need to clarify that what I am NOT SAYING is that no one can feel represented by Sallie May, or that if they do, they’ve been tricked somehow by writers into thinking they got more representation than they actually did.

Sallie May is a very popular character, and because of that I honestly would like to see more of her. I want to see more of her because she’s the only trans character on the show, and I want her to be properly developed.

I talked previously about how I enjoyed Hell’s Belles, but wished we had gotten to see more of Sallie and Millie’s relationship in the actual show. Their relationship has a lot of potential to show the unique ways in which siblings interact and navigate conflict, but we only got to see a few seconds of them interacting in Sallie’s debut. The short gives us an idea of what Sallie’s personality is like, but it’s so brief that I still don’t feel like we really KNOW her on a deeper level.

To me, three lines + one short with a brief backstory doesn’t feel like the sort of amazing representation that fans of the show laud Helluva Boss for.

As a series that often boasts about its queer and trans rep and inclusivity, I can’t help but feel like Sallie May should either have been a main character from the very beginning, or that she shouldn’t have been trotted out like some sort of bastion of trans representation, when the only indication she is trans is her horns/white roots.

And yes. As a genderqueer gay I KNOW that it can be extremely tiring to have all of our stories revolve around our struggles and ONLY be about being LGBTQ+. I also want to see a variety of stories about queer people like me going on adventures and getting to do things that don’t revolve around our struggles. But I also want to still actually see myself represented.

Not just know outside the story that, “oh that character is nonbinary, but it will not be mentioned in the narrative in any way and will not ever be important in the context of this character I’m supposed to see myself in.”

Madeline Maye talked about this specifically in her critique of Helluva Boss, and her pointing this out was kind of what made me realize that, yeah. Anyone watching Helluva Boss for the first time would probably have NO IDEA that Sallie Mae is a transgender woman.

It also made me realize that the only reason I knew that Sallie May was trans was because her VA, Morgana Ignis, who is also a trans woman, tweeted about it, and the official Helluva Boss Twitter retweeted it.

The original tweet is hidden now (Ignis has since left Twitter—idk why, I genuinely hope it wasn’t due to harassment—that’s never okay) but I was able to confirm that this was the case based on the HB wiki, and the official HB’s retweet still being up:

The only confirmation we’ve ever had that Sallie May is transgender has been outside of the show—either from social media Q&As and the show’s wiki or merch—

Sallie May has a LOT of merch. Like a lot, this isn’t even all of it. And yes, SOME of the merch is from the recently released “Hell’s Belles” short, but the vast majority of it is from the 3 years since her initial introduction.

The vast majority of it is also highly sexualized, and highlights Sallie’s penis through her swimsuit. Now, I’m aware that Morgana Ignis requested this, and I honestly don’t have too much of an opinion on it. I’m not a trans woman, and I’ve seen multiple opinions from trans women on this design choice for Sally’s merch. I’ve seen some trans women say that they liked and felt represented by this choice, and some say that they felt objectified and that it made them dysphoric. This is one of those situations where I don’t think everyone can be pleased—like I said at the beginning of this post, LGBTQ+ people are as diverse in their opinions as we are in our identities and self-expression, and I think everyone’s feelings regarding Sallie’s portrayals in the merch are valid.

I bring it up because, other than the wiki explaining that Sallie May has “male horns”, this is the only other way to confirm that Sally is trans, as it is never acknowledged in the story. I bring it up because I don’t think merch should be the only way an LGBTQ character’s identity is validated.

I assume that all of Sallie Mae’s merch is because of her popularity, but I also can’t help but wonder if this has contributed to the impression that Sallie is a main character, when, in the narrative so far, she is still a minor one.

I don’t believe that when she was originally created to be a “token trans” character, but since her introduction, there have not been any main characters that are transgender, nonbinary, or genderqueer.

We’ve only had one other trans character with a speaking role—this imp:

Who is FTM. He seems to know Blitz from a while back, and talks Blitz into staying at the party. Then he watches him drunkenly make out with random people with another (I assume) trans imp who is probably MTF:

(Also—as an aside, this scene kinda bothers me?? I don’t THINK this was the intention at all, but having a VERY CLEARLY drunk off of his ass Blitz, who can’t meaningfully consent at this time, being watched, and almost like…leered at by two of the only visibly trans characters in the show…it feels gross. Like why are two of the only other confirmed trans characters voyeuristically watching a drunk man who can’t consent making out? It would be one thing if we had a story full of different trans characters who acted in all sorts of different ways, but at this time these two are 2/3rds of the show’s ENTIRE trans rep. With the other 1/3rd being introduced to us as a serial killer. Like. Guys. What is it that you’re trying to say?)

Apparently Sallie May’s VA has stated the below on Social Media, and stated that there’s a lot more coming for Sallie May in the future. And that’s great!!! I really really want to believe that.

But I look at the above and can’t help but wonder…if this is the case, why did it take three years for her to get another appearance? In just a short? Why wasn’t she given more focus and importance from the very beginning, in her introductory episode? If her original appearance wasn’t representative of her and Millie’s relationship then why did they even write it that way???

I want to believe all of the above—that Sallie May actually WILL get to become a main character. But I look at the way she’s been barely portrayed, and the way that she’s basically been used to just sell merch, and it makes me sad.

I would love to see more of her, more of any trans characters that aren’t 2 second background characters, but I honestly have a hard time believing we ever will when the episodes take as long as the do to come out, and the when the episodes focus so heavily on shipping pre-existing pairings.

As a lesbian, I would love to see Sallie May get a girlfriend, but given Spindlehorse’s track record with lackluster sapphic pairings and representation, I don’t have much hope of seeing that either.

I just. If you managed to get all the way through this heinously long post, thank you for reading. If you didn’t, that’s very fair (lol) and I’ve got the tldr for you here—

TLDR:

—My issue with Sallie May is not actually with Sallie May at all. It’s with the fact that we don’t get enough of Sallie May, or any trans characters, for that matter.

—You can, of course, feel represented by any character, but I think it’s important to ask yourself how you are being represented, and if you are actually being represented.

—Not every queer/trans/lgbt story has to explicitly be about being queer. The stories in which we are represented should be as diverse and vibrant as all the members of our community. But, I still want to actually be able to tell and to see that the characters are lgbtq+. If a character is a lesbian or sapphic, I want to see her show an interest in other women. If a character is transgender I want to see that acknowledged by the narrative, whether it’s the character mentioning their transition or just saying they’re trans. I want to SEE myself and other queer identities. Not just know that they’re there.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critic #representation #queer representation #queer rep in media #funhouse convo #media criticism #media critique #queer representation in media #my worst fear is that people will see this—go ‘HEY SALLIE MAY IS GREAT REP!!! WHY DO YOU HATE HER???’#and completely ignore the MULTIPLE times I explicitly said that the issue was that we don’t get enough of Sallie May #that she’s a minor character that is treated as a main character by the fandom and show #and that that could potentially hinder us getting more of her or of any trans characters for that matter #and that I WANT TO SEE MORE OF HER AND WANT TO SEE HER DEVELOPED

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 2 years ago

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Does He Love You?

Fandom: Elvis, Elvis Presley, Elvis 2022, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Female Reader, Elvis Presley x Ann-Margaret

Characters: Elvis Presley, Female Reader, Ann-Margaret, Jerry Schilling, Joe Esposito, Red West, Sonny West, Colonel Tom Parker

Word Count: 3225

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Does he love you, like he loves me?

Tags/Warnings: Request, Requested Fic, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Arguing, Cheating, Infidelity, Drunk Arguments, Betrayal, Angst, Hurt, Affairs, Established Relationship, Reba Song

Notes: This kinda reminded me of a Reba song at the end. It was giving me Jolene vibes but Ann Margaret knew they weren’t meant to be im sure.

Elvis Tags: @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley

Request by @elvispresleyxoxo - yes that’s completely fine! I was wondering if you could do one where reader knows elvis is cheating with ann margaret and confront him in front of all of the memphis mafia maybe even ann margaret if your comfortable with that! she tells elvis that she loves him ,shares like smutty details about there sex life ( if ann margaret is there could reader be like does he do that to you to, but again if your uncomfortable with that you don’t have to write that) , just overall a messy argument in front of everyone. but in the end elvis lashes out and takes her into another room and makes love to her and everyone can hear them she comes back like embarrassed but yk forgives him , you can choose the ending around the ann margaret situation if your comfortable writing that part x

One would think that being in a relationship with Elvis Presley would be fun. And for the most part, it is but not always. Sometimes the glitz and the glamour of Hollywood isn't parties and shows, it's dreadfully boring meetings with studio executives that come disguised as evening dinner parties. Whilst Elvis allowed the Colonel to negotiate most of the deals he was required to be present, something that no doubt allowed the Colonel to do what he wanted whilst having the excuse that Elvis never protested even though he was ten people down the table. As long as Elvis showed up the Colonel was happy but to keep Elvis happy he needed distractions. Which was why he brought friends. Members of the Mafia or me, someone he could talk to whilst they hashed out details of contracts that didn't interest him. The upside of these meetings was that they were largely comped by the networks meaning they were almost exclusively held in fancy hotels or restaurants rather than the dreary offices of Paramount. That was why tonight we would be dining at Perino's.

As we walked into the room my eyes roved over the table that was already jam-packed full of people, as ever we were the last to arrive. The majority of it was made up of men in stiff suits, business types, and members of Elvis' entourage who always tried so desperately to fit in at these things but somehow always seemed to look like boys play acting as Hollywood bigwigs. And then my eyes landed on the end of the table. On the only other woman in the room. Ann-Margaret.

Whilst Elvis' schmoozed his way through the crowd of people that had jumped up to greet him my eyes remained locked on her. Her red-golden hair was pushed back from her face, her natural makeup accentuating her large eyes and full lips in the dim ambient lighting. She looked beautiful. She was chatting to a man I didn't know seemingly unbothered by our entrance, a fact that made my heart sink. After all, why would she? She knew Elvis well. Too well. The novelty of his presence had no doubt rubbed off for her.

A million thoughts circled in my mind. What was she doing here? Had Elvis invited her? Had the network? I didn't know which of those options was worse. Either way, it signalled that she wasn't going anywhere much to my sadness. They had just debuted their first film together, Viva Las Vegas, and it was a hit. Elvis had even seemed to enjoy himself on this production which I was ecstatic for. He seemed more lenient with the scripts, happier to sing the same old songs he'd been given and altogether more enthusiastic whenever he'd called home. It was only when I flew out to Vegas for the last few days of filming I saw why.

I couldn't blame him I supposed. After all she was a beautiful, charming and magnetic woman. The press liked her. The Mafia liked her. Elvis liked her. But I couldn't bring myself to. He'd been like this before of course. No matter what I did he couldn't seem to stay true yet none of the others ever bothered me...but she did. Because I could feel the way he felt about her. The others never bothered me because I knew he didn't love them but with her? The potential was there. Another two or three films, who knew what could happen?

Tears stung at my eyes but I forced them back, going through the motions of greeting people until I could finally drop down into my seat beside Elvis. Ann-Margaret was sitting on his other side. I didn't listen to either of them as they started to talk. Instead, I grabbed the bottle of wine that had been left on the table and poured myself a large glassful, immediately sipping it down as much as I could. Neither of them even noticed.

✵✵✵

I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to even be here. As everyone laughed and joked around me I sat in silence nursing whatever number glass of wine I was up to and watching Elvis and Ann-Margaret talk. It was like slow torture. Every laugh, every coy smile, every touch of the hand was like another rock being placed on my chest until I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there. I stood up from the table, gripping onto it for balance as the alcohol in my system hit me full on making me woozy.

'You alright honey?' Elvis said, finally noticing me. His hand gently touched the back of mine but I pulled mine out from under his.

'Fine, I just need the restroom,' I said. Elvis looked at me curiously but I didn't stay there long enough for him to ask any questions. I wanted to cry. Or scream. Or throw up. I fled to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall, trying to calm myself down. I knew there was no point getting upset. I couldn’t make a scene and I couldn’t go home not without Elvis wondering what was wrong so I put on my most composed expression and returned to the table trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. I hurried my way back to my seat, noticing how the waiters had started arriving at the table placing our orders down in front of us. As a bowl full of pasta dropped into place in front of me a young waiter appeared at Elvis' side.

'Steak?' the waiter asked.

'Here,' Elvis said, allowing him to place the plate down in front of him. My eyes scanned his plate though where I expected to see a block of charcoal in place of steak I found a normal-looking piece of meat looking back at me.

'You should send that back,' I blurted out. Elvis looked at me for a second, suddenly realising I was back in the room, and shook his head.

'It's fine,' Elvis said as he picked up his napkin and dropped it on his lap.

'It's rare,' I said.

'Like I said it's fine,' Elvis said.

'You hate your food rare,' I said, utterly perplexed. It was true. Any who knew him knew that unless it was absolutely cremated Elvis wouldn't eat it. Before now he'd sent food back in restaurants up to three times until it was completely obliterated.

'It's not a big deal,' Elvis gritted out looking up the table. My voice had been louder than intended thanks to the alcohol meaning I was no longer the only one looking at him. He was now the spectacle of the show with almost everyone peering down the table at what was going on. He didn't flounder though and instead he cut a neat piece of meat off the end and though he couldn't stop himself from grimacing as blood oozed out onto his plate he hoyed it into his mouth and choked it down all the same.

'How is it?' I asked after it was gone.

'Fine,' he said, taking a sip of his iced water.

'See!' Ann said placing a dainty hand on his bicep, 'I told you it wouldn't be that bad.'

'What?' I said, confused. She looked at me with a smile though Elvis kept his head down sheepishly.

'Last time we had dinner he ordered this thing, it looked more like a tire than a piece of meat, and I told him all that burnt stuff was bad for his health,' she said, 'too many carcinogens. It's much healthier to have your meat medium or rare.'

'Yeah, I think I've heard that before,' Joe said from the side of me.

'The question is what isn't bad for you these days,' Sonny chimed in, 'though good on you for makin' EP change his mind about the bits of rubber he calls meat.'

'Yeah that's a feat in itself,' Joe said. Their conversation continued but I couldn't join in. My blood was boiling, the alcohol well and truly taking hold as I watched him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After years of moaning at him to eat someone that resembled an edible meal and him refusing he’d elected to make a change after one meal with her. It was like a punch to the gut. My jealousy took a hold consuming every fibre of my being. Elvis wasn't paying much attention and was instead scarfing down his pink steak punctuating it with sips of water to no doubt dilute the taste. My focus didn't land on him however, it landed across the table. I wanted to make her feel as bad as I did. To ruin her night like she had ruined mine. I could feel my words coming on fast and there was no way to stop them.

'Oh, I don't know. I wouldn’t say it’s that hard to change his mind,' I said taking a sip of wine as I rested back in my chair. I could feel several pairs of eyes land on me, including Elvis and Ann's.

'Remind me of that when I'm trying to pry him out of bed to go to the lot,' Joe chuckled.

'You just need to know how to handle him,' I said, 'ain’t that right sweetie?'

'You think you can handle me?' Elvis said quirking an eyebrow. He was playing along in front of the boys but I could see him hesitate, not knowing where I was going with it.

'Of course, though it seems like I'm not the only one. Right, Ann?' I asked with a fake smile. Ann glanced at Elvis and then back at me.

'Oh I wouldn't say I can handle him like you,' she said an embarrassed blush on her pretty face.

'But he listens to you,’ I said, ‘I mean you got him to eat something other than black steak. That’s some feat.’

‘Like I said it’s nothing,’ she said shifting awkwardly in her seat. I didn’t care though. I could feel more and more people staring curiously at me, wondering what the hell I was going on about, Elvis too but I didn’t pay them any attention.

‘How did you do it?’ I said.

‘What?’ she asked glancing at Elvis for help.

‘It’s a simple question,’ I said leaning forward and running my finger around the rim of my wine glass, ‘I mean I know how I’d do it. You know one time Elvis took me shopping and I found this beautiful Chanel number, you remember that right honey? The one with all the buttons? Anyway, he’s moaning about it telling me it looks like something a sailor would wear but me? I love it, so you know I did?’

‘What?’ Ann said quietly unable to ignore me as I watched her intently my gaze never wandering from her green eyes.

‘I got down on my knees and blew him right there in the dressing room,’ I said.

‘Y/N!’ Elvis snapped.

‘Soon got him to change his mind-’

‘That’s enough,’ Elvis said.

‘You know he can’t even see anything naval without sporting wood,’ I giggled.

‘Stop it,’ Elvis said standing up and yanking me out of my seat by my bicep. Though his grip was tight on my arm it was a good job he was holding me as I was unsteady enough that I would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been for him.

‘What? We’re just swapping girly stories, right Annie? I bet she could tell me just how she gets you to do stuff don’t you think? I bet it’s not all that dissimilar, huh baby?’ I sneered.

‘You’re drunk,’ he said.

‘And you’re screwing your co-star,’ I said. Joe pushed my other side keeping me on balance as I yanked my arm out of Elvis’ grasp. Ann’s face paled before going deep crimson as she dropped her gaze to her lap. Elvis said nothing his face thunderous as everyone watched the pair of us just looking at each other.

‘Can’t even deny it can you?’ I said looking at him. I shook my head, grabbed the bottle of wine off the table and walked off out into the foyer. I didn’t know where I was going. The car wouldn’t be waiting and I didn’t feel like heading outside. I didn’t need to worry though as I felt a hand grasp my elbow, pushing me towards a door until I was roughly thrust through it into a storeroom of sorts. I fell inside, looking up to find Elvis standing by the door blocking my only exit.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!’ he snapped.

‘Me?! You’re fucking someone else and you’re angry at me!?’ I baulked.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said.

‘Yeah sure,’ I snorted.

‘Nothing’s going on,’ he said.

‘Nothing’s going on now? Or nothing’s ever happened,’ I said coming towards him. His jaw was tight as he looked down at me but my expression never changed. I was challenging him to tell me I was wrong.

‘It’s over,’ he said making me pull back shaking my head, ‘it has been for a while.’

‘Since I came to town and spoiled your fun?’ I said taking a swig from my bottle before setting it down on a shelf.

‘Since I remembered how much I love you,’ he said making me roll my eyes, ‘what you don’t believe me?’

‘Until I’m not around right,’ I said.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said coming towards me. I folded my arms across my chest to stop him from touching me, ‘you don’t think I know how pathetic I am? That I don’t know I’m weak? I know I’m not worth the ground you walk on and yet you still keep me around. I know I don’t deserve you Y/N…but I love you and I’m sorry.’

‘You always are,’ I said an errant tear trickling down my cheek. He moved to wrap his arms around me but I stayed still, letting his strong hold engulf me.

‘Do you love her?’ I said in almost a whisper. He was so close to me that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, the heat of his body matching that of my own.

‘Not as much as I love you,’ he said pressing his forehead to mine before he placed a kiss on my cheek. His lips kissed my tears away until finally, they landed on my lips. He kissed me, waiting for my permission to take it further. I tried to stop. I knew I should. But I loved him. I always would, so I moved my lips against his. He took this as a positive sign and deepened the kiss pushing me backwards until my back hit the wall. I didn’t do much of the work. His lips were everywhere all at once, touching every piece of skin they could find and leaving fire in their wake. His kisses were interspersed by murmurs of adoration as if his words could wipe away his actions for good.

‘I love you,’ he said as his hand slipped under my dress, teasing through my folds before he moved my panties to the side and slipped inside me, hoisting me up until my legs were wrapped around his waist. The wall was uncomfortable against my back but I couldn’t focus on that as Elvis’ fingers made their way to my sensitive bud, stroking it in time with his movements in and out of me. His name was all I could manage to whimper against his neck as the feeling of ecstasy started mounting in my core.

‘Baby,’ he grunted as his hips started faltering in rhythm.

‘Oh god,’ I said trembling around him with a whimper. He moved his hips in haphazard snaps against me until he groaned loudly, his breath hot and wet against my neck as he buried his face against my skin. After a moment he came round, pressing his forehead against mine. I could feel him softening inside me yet neither of us moved, my fingers tracing small circles on the nape of his neck as our breaths intermingled.

‘I love you,’ he said after a moment.

‘Enough to stop seeing her?’ I said.

‘Like I said. It’s over,’ he said pulling away from me so he could gently place me on my feet. His hand was tender against my cheek, his thumb stroking against my skin gently. I watched his face for a moment as if I would be able to tell the future from his expression alone. I knew it was pointless. I knew that whatever was going to happen in the future would happen regardless. But I loved him. With everything I had. So, I pulled away and nodded ever so slightly. He kissed the top of my head and then led me out of the storage cupboard. There weren’t many people in the foyer but those that were there were sure to know what had just transpired. Joe, Sonny, Red and Jerry congregated by the door of the dining room probably unsure of what they were supposed to be doing in Elvis' absence. That or they were forming a human barrier in case I wanted to head back inside for round two.

‘Give me a minute,’ he said squeezing my hand before he dropped it and headed over to the boys where they began talking in hushed whispers. I could feel the eyes of the waitstaff watching me as I stood in the foyer and so I quickly ducked into the restroom to freshen up. I looked a little messy. My tears had given me black smudges under my eyes and my lipstick was smudged from Elvis kissing me. I grabbed a paper towel and started to retouch the damage but I slowed my actions down as I noticed the toilet door opening.

Ann stepped out.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘um sorry I didn't know-’

‘It’s fine,’ I said straightening up and tossing the paper towel in the trash.

‘Y/N,’ she said coming towards me offering to put a tender hand on my shoulder but I moved out of her way.

‘Don’t,’ I said. We stood there watching each other for a moment. I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger. Sadness. Who knew? Whatever it was it felt awful and it was made even worse by the fact she looked genuinely remorseful.

‘I really am sorry,’ she said.

‘Just,’ I said my words disappearing. I didn’t know what to say. After all, how could I blame her? The charm, looks and appeal she had been lured in by was the one that kept me hooked. I couldn’t resist it any more than she could. How could I blame her for giving in to temptation?

‘I can’t lose him,’ I said. My hand was on the door handle now, my gaze locked on it as I refused to look up at her.

‘You were never going to,’ she said capturing my attention, ‘I’m not what he wants.’

‘Yeah, who’d want a gorgeous movie star, right?’ I said.

‘It's what he wants for a night. You get his mornings. His afternoons. You’re the one he calls when he’s had a bad day,’ she said, her eyes were sad though she was wearing a sympathetic smile, ‘you’re the one who’ll get his last name.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I said and with that, I slipped out of the bathroom. Elvis looked around as I came out. He was standing with Jerry, waiting for me by the main entrance, the others sent to handle whatever needed fixing on my behalf.

‘Everything okay honey?’ he murmured as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led me outside.

‘Fine,’ I said with a small sigh, ‘just fine.’

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #ann margaret #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x reader fic #does he love you #request #requests #requested fic

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glaivenoct · 1 year ago

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1, 5, 19 for ao3 wrapped

ao3 wrapped [writer's edition]

Thank you for sending some <3 <3

1.) How many words have you written this year?

There's no way this is going to be accurate but 39,779+

I'm going based off of the words counts from the 5 fics I posted to ao3 this year. However, there are things I've written that are still sitting in my docs. Not to mention that I have this insane habit of sometimes rewriting things anywhere from 3 to 2o348940293 times over when my brain gets stuck and a fic isn't working out the way I want it to. There's some things sitting in WIPs that are already on rewrite number 3 and I'm this closer to rewriting it AGAIN ;A;

So it's hard to say, but there's a base to go off of at least ;u;

5.) What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

I'm still to this day blown away by the response I received on Even Angels Deserve Guardians ;u; It was the most encouraging and motivating response I've ever experienced, especially since it was my debut fic in both Tristamp & Vashwood fandoms!! So many people said welcome and apparently really enjoyed my characterization of both Vash & WW? Which was probably my biggest concern when writing it. I wanted to do right by them so bad and I was worried since I was used to writing The Same rarepair for the last several years in a row ;A;

I'm so grateful for every kudos, bookmark and lovely comment ppl left on it QuQ

19.) What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Heh I still haven't tried my hand at Pelnoct or Pelnyxnoct oops ;u; I think it's safe to say Vashwood is a high priority on the list next year since I've only managed to do one fic for them so far. There's still plenty of exploring to do with them ofc.

But ok. Listen. I honestly don't think I will ever actually be brave enough to try my hand at one of my newer fav pairings, but just hear me for a sec pls -

Nanago

I don't talk abt jjk stuffs with anyone but the voices in my head. So I'm taking my chance to spew this out into the void, apologies in advance. AHEM!! I don't know if I have the capability to write either of these characters or the universe of jjk itself well or believably - but goddamn do I enjoy thinking about the potential of these two.

Because, in my head, there is just something to be said about a character that is literally physically untouchable unless he actively turns off his power because he has deemed a certain space, object, or person Safe Enough to make physical contact with him. There is something to be said about a character with this renowned title of being "The Strongest", and the loneliness that might come with that underneath this "idiotic", "flippant", and "egotistical" personality. ALL OF THIS combined with this character losing their "one and only" technically two times, and between both instances, calling love "the most twisted curse of all"

Like I love Gojo for the chaotic fucker he is, but I like to believe there are things there under the surface, beyond those general wants and goals he talks about in the series. And it gives me brainworms - especially in relation to Nanami.

Nanami, my beloved. Calm and pragmatic Nanami who sees himself as someone with "no concept of a reason worth living or something worth doing". Sigh. THERE IS ALSO SOMETHING TO BE SAID abt a character who, at the hands of the jujutsu world, also loses their only friend and experiences much suffering. A character who only chooses to return to this world bc, even if it brings him pain and suffering, at least he's helping people. An incredibly selfless character that values the lives of his comrades, ESPECIALLY the youngsters. Goddd does he want to protect the youngsters and let them be youngsters. He might be hella opposite of Gojo personality wise but

A.) That's part of what makes them fun hehe >:3 B.) It's fun to draw the parallels and contrasts, and despite their differences in how they approach things, I think they share similar wants and goals - particularly in reference to the youngsters and seeing a change in the world.

WITH ALL THAT SAID - I want these two to find something in each other amidst all that ish. and like, make out about it. Idk if exploring them is something I'll pull off in actual writing next year, but at the very least I will be in a corner somewhere exploring them in my head.

And thus concludes Brina's sudden Nanago ramble ty and m'sorry I just enjoy them!!!

#fic asks #and upon writing this tag it looks like nanago/jjk is a majority of what came out of my queue today hahaha hELP

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inkats · 8 months ago

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Thnak u 4 da tag :3

Name: make one up surprise me.

Pronouns: whoever I’m into at the time’s. Alternatively ever interaction w me roll a dice even she odd him.

Star Sign: Aries also.

# of siblings and fun facts about them (if you have any): a little sister. she’s taller than me. And more like my mom 💭💭

# of pets and their names: never ever have I ever had one and recently I’ve gotten like really anxious about the thought of having one. I’ll kill it or I’ll kms. I think.

Fandom(s): idk man. My ocs. Everyone I follow’s ocs. I used to be into genshin I still interact w that. Anime tm. I like. Tgcf. I like. Comics so many comics. Ask me about a comic.

Favourite color: man I keep. Accidentally skipping questions. It’s green. Obviously

Favourite song: rn it’s I never told you what I do for a living.

Favourite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoon, whatever): I used to be super into Frances hardinge when I was reading middle grade she’s still so epic. I’m really enjoying tamysn muirs writing but also I’m not reading a lot of novels nowadays 💭💭 I like all the stuff moscareto’s written for in regards to. Ahem. Bl comics .. and niyama theyre both v good… I don’t go into authors whole backlogs a lot anymore / reading a lot of debut works recently so I don’t have. Definite favourites. I need to start reading more.

Hobbies: drawing and uhm. Reading comics. And attempting to write comics. Reading in general. Listening to music worse and less skilled than you (general). Thinking about drawing. I don’t have a lot going on T.T

Favourite fic type: I like fluff and I like whump. I like when they take the guys and make the characters their own. I like cool epic full aus with world and character building and also. pwp. I contain multitudes.

Favourite holiday: hm. well. hm. I like getting presents I guess ones where I get presents.

Do you have any partners? (Romantic, qpr, anything!): hey does rinnie count he’s like basica—

Fun fact about you/ anything fun you wanna share: I’m #boring. I have a collectors heart. That’s my fun fact.

tagging uhm. @bmpmp3 @starredforlife and @vampyr-bats ? if any of u want.

I was tagged by the lovely @bogbutteronmycroissant thank you so much! I'm making it in a separate post bc that one was too long!

• Name: Vinnian or Moony

• Pronouns: They/Him

• Star Sign: Aries

• # of siblings and fun facts about them (if you have any): none, I do have too many step sibling and the fun fact is that we all hate our whore of a father

• # of pets and their names: 1 and he is called Custard

• Fandom(s): Fnaf, undertale, deltarune, black survival: immortal soul, sims4, trolls, the hunger games, ddadds, my little pony, the amazing world of gumball, total drama island, black butler, death note, my friends' ocs, too many others...

• Favourite color: the icon, the queen, the goddess herself: Purple

• Favourite song: (just one??)(ok fine) Hard drive

• Favourite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoon, whatever): my friend @just-a-wholesome-writer I love his style of writing so much it's insane, he writes these sweet short stories that are easy for me to get into

• Hobbies: drawing, painting, sculpting, writing, cooking, sewing and anything artistic really

• Favourite fic type: Darkfics and angst and comfort

• Favourite holiday: Eid, I like seeing kids out wearing their new clothes and being all smiles and energy, it's sweet.

• Do you have any partners? (Romantic, qpr, anything!): None sadly

• Fun fact about you/ anything fun you wanna share: nothing currently on mind, I just love y'all

(No pressure to anyone I tag!)

@unreadpoppy @inkats @anawkwardlady @vero-vetka13 @venusski @thislittlekumquat @mymissalicorne

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gingerparker · 3 years ago

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LIE WITH ME

Pairing: Teacher!Tom Holland x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Tom is single, has been for a while. Everyone knows this; they all try to set him up. His family is by far the group of people who annoy him with it most. So, out of frustration, he tells them he's gotten engaged! He's hasn't. He crosses his fingers that he'll find a way to convince you to be his temporary fake fiancé.

Warnings: fluff, drinking, lots of dialogue, 18 + (minors look away!), innocence/inexperienced kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, swearing, mentions of a previous bad relationship, could be some errors sorry in advance!

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: So, this is my writing debut in this fandom! I'm excited about it!! This is part of @venomsilk 's valentine bingo, thank you for organising such a good writing experience and letting me be a part of it :) I chose: fake engagement, coworkers and innocence/inexperienced kink

Tom's already dreading answering his phone. His mother's name and her contact picture stare at him, it would probably start laughing at him if it could. Spring half-term holidays are coming up and every single Holland is expected back home- Tom is always expected with a partner. He's been single for too long by his family's standards, his secret flings, and one-night stands just won't do. With a sigh, he presses the green phone on his screen and brings the device up to his ear.

"Hi, mom" he smiles as he speaks in hopes that his reluctance to talk doesn't reach the other end of the line.

"Tommy! I wanted to confirm when you'd be making your way home for the break" his mother spoke in an excited tone. She is always happiest when all her boys are together. She brings out the old pictures, makes sure everyone's rooms are perfect and she even gets Tom's father to cook the boys' favourite meals with her.

"My class finishes at 2:20 tomorrow, I should be able to arrive at around 3:30" Tom looks around the teacher's lounge as he speaks. Only one of the math teachers is in the room with him. She seems completely drowning in papers which he can only assume are exams in need of correcting and grading. The great thing about being a gym teacher, barely ever having to correct and grade paper essays.

"That's good, that means every Holland should be here by quarter past four" Tom can feel the question coming, he senses it. "Should we be expecting anyone else this year? A last-minute reveal of any sorts?" she questions hopefully.

"Mom-

"You're not getting any younger dear! I'm getting worried!" his mothers scolds him through the phone.

"I'm still young!" Tom lifts his head as if to show off his youthful features, not that anyone is looking; the math teacher is unbothered and probably unaware of his phone call.

"You are but your father and I are impatient... We'd love grandchildren and for you to find love" his mother knows nothing of his countless flings and string of one-night stands. She wouldn't be impressed.

"Well, mom, you and dad will-" and then you walked in.

You had a cafeteria tray with today's lunch on it. It seemed to be some sort of pasta with a side of steamed vegetables, a pudding, and a juice box. Nothing special but does the job. Tom looks you up and down, stopping at the shiny rings that adorn your fingers, as you sit in front of him with a smile, he smiles back as an idea forms in his mind. A great idea, a brilliant one. He holds up a finger and points at his phone before standing up and walking out of the lounge, he sees you smile again and give him a thumbs-up before he walks out.

"Tom? Are you still there?" he hears his mom's voice in his ear and snaps out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry"

"What were you saying?" the hopefulness is back in her voice. Oh, how his plan will work perfectly.

"I was just about to say to get another chair ready around the table!" he leans on the wall as he speaks. He hears his mother gasp and her telling his father.

"You have someone? Tommy this isn't a joke, right??" she rushes to speak as if taking too long would cancel out what he'd said.

"It’s not" he looks ahead and sees the poster for the upcoming school play, a boy is kneeling in front of another with a ring in his hand. That's when Toms's plan gets even better. Forms itself into something worthy of a movie, his family won't believe this! "I got engaged just after New Year"

He hears an even louder gasp from his mother and a call of his father's name, she's probably telling him to come and join the call.

"You're engaged? To who? Thomas Holland, you didn't even tell us you were in a relationship" that's his father's voice that now reaches his ear.

"Well, you'll have to wait and see her on Friday, won't you?" this plan is going beautifully, Tom's best one in a while for sure.

"Oh, I can't wait... we'll have the best dishware out! I'll even get that fancy cereal you all love so much" his mother's voice is dripping in excitement he can practically see her large smile.

"You do that mom. I have to go now, see you two on Friday" Tom's plan is already going flawlessly, he's proud of himself.

"Bye Tommy, we love you," his mom says before hanging up. Tom pumps his fist up in the air in victory. Finally! His family will stop asking him about his barely existing love life. And all he had to do was lie a little, oh what a perfect plan. All thanks to the jewellery you always wear and the school play, he’ll have to thank you with a gift. Maybe some flowers or even a cafeteria pass that would allow you to never pay for a meal for the rest of the school year.

He walks back into the lounge and joins you again. You’ve eaten the pasta, but the vegetables have been left to the side, though there is half a carrot gone so he guesses they weren’t very good. You’re sipping the plastic straw of your juice box as you scroll downwards on your laptop. When Tom shakes the table slightly as he sits, you look up at him and smile again.

“What’s got you so giddy, Mr. Holland?” you laugh. Tom is practically exploding with pride, with excitement and with relief.

“I’ve finally conquered the beast that is my love life” He shrugs as he grabs his meal out of his bag. He has leftovers from the night before as he can never seem to understand how to cook for a single person. Your eyebrows raise and you push your laptop aside. Tom barely ever speaks up on his love life, so this is a big piece of gossip he’s given you. Last you hear was about a booty call he cut off after seeing her “four times too many”, his words not yours.

“Do tell” you urge him.

“Believe it or not but I’ve gotten engaged” he smiles in triumph. Who knew his plans could ever work this flawlessly? That’s when your jaw drops. Tom Holland? The gym teacher at the school you teach at? A known flirt and lover of not having a single string attached to him. That Tom Holland? Engaged??

“Lies,” you say through a gasp, “To who?”

“No one”

“Tom! Come on who? I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me…” you cross your arms and lean back in your chair.

You and Tom have been working at the same school for over 5 years now and have been close ever since his first day. He had been called to be the substitute teacher for a few gym classes after the original teacher had gotten pregnant. He had been signed on for the rest of the school year, about 6 months. He’d gotten lost on his first day. Instead of making it to the teachers' lounge, he had found your classroom. You had just ended a class and were waiting for the students to pack away their instruments when he came in. Ever since then you two had become close friends, you even made sure to see each other out of work hours. The original gym teacher had decided to become a stay-at-home mom, her wife was an incredibly successful surgeon. So, Tom was offered a permanent contract which he very gratefully accepted.

“No really, (Y/N), I’m engaged to no one” his smile turned into a smirk, his plan had even worked on you. Your reaction just proved to him how incredibly amazing his idea was, he mentally high fives himself.

“You’ve lost me, Tom, did one of the students throw a ball at your head again? Is this you with a concussion?” your face twisted in confusion.

“No. I’ve just finally gotten away with being a bachelor to my parents” he waved his right hand around before taking a bite of his food. Your expression didn’t change so he chewed quickly to keep explaining. “I may have lied and told my parents I’m engaged to make them stop asking about when I’m going to settle down” he chuckled before taking another bite.

“Aren’t you going back home to see them for the break?” you squint at him as you think you’ve found a flaw in whatever he has planned.

“Yes, going to stay there till the 20th,” he says through a large mouthful. Charming.

“Are they expecting to see this imaginary fiancé of yours?” you lean forward and tilt your head. Tom senses that something isn’t right, did he make a flawed plan?

“Yes, I told them to get another chair ready around the table. What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” he seems to pout a little when he ends his sentence. In any other situation, you’d coo and poke his protruding bottom lip but you don’t even glance at it now.

“Tom, who are you going to bring? Who is going to play the role of your soon to be wife?”

♫*:..｡♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ･

Yeah, his plan was shit. Why did he think he could just lie to his parents like that? They were now expecting an actual woman to walk into his childhood home with him. The future Mrs Holland. The one with who he would have children and the person with who he would share a home. His parents would probably not believe that his fiancé has invisibility power… So basically, he's fucked. How is he going to convince anyone to play the part of the love of his life? Maybe it's time he came clean to his family.

They'll be heartbroken, understandably so. Toms' fabulous plan was anything but good. Y/N helped him see that. You've always been the voice of reason between them. The one to calculate the next move, to think things through and make sure everything goes correctly. One of the best teachers in the school, Tom’s closet friend -maybe don't tell Harrison this… you'd never lie about this to your close ones without having a fake spouse to be ready to go. You'd nail a fake engagement; everyone would believe you. Maybe you should be the drama teacher!

“I'm so screwed” Tom sighs as he walks into his flat. He can hear Tessa frantically making her way to the entrance to greet him. He smiles and hurries to take his boots off. His dog does tend to tackle him with love. She runs to him, immediately jumping into his awaiting arms. “Did you miss me, baby?” he coos squeezing her to him. If shit is happening in his life, Tom knows that Tessa will always be there to cheer him up.

He makes his way to his cramped kitchen, after all, tea always gets his creative juices flowing. His kettle is ancient, he thinks so anyway, he got it at a second-hand store but imagines it’s been in at least 5 other households before it got to him. It was pretty much given to him for free, so he has no real complaints about it. “It’s got character” is what you had said when you visited his flat for the first time 5 years ago.

It was raining cats and dogs, your coat was ripped after getting it stuck on a doorknob as you practically ran out of your flat that morning and your phone was completely out of battery. You were having a horrible day. Classes were done and you were about to run, run as fast as you possibly could to the nearest underground entrance. You crossed your fingers hoping- praying that your barely existent coat would help save your bag full of your students' music sheets. What could go wrong now?

“Y/N? Do you need a ride home?” Thomas Holland; gym rat, amazing teacher, heartthrob. Now you could add ”the kindest person you know” to that list.

He took you home for you to realise you didn’t have your keys. You had texted your roommate and she answered saying that she would only be back in two hours. So, Tom proved himself to be your new favourite person by inviting you over to his place and to wait it out there.

When you got yourself seated on his… vintage floral couch he offered you some tea and waved his kettle excitedly.

“Wow, that kettle has seen things! It’s got character I like it”

Oh… OH! How could he have not seen this? You were quite literally in front of his eyes all along! You would make the perfect fake fiancé. Friendly, smart, gorgeous and his family already knows you so it would be believable enough. With his cup full of tea, he leans on his counter and video calls you.

“Hi Tommy” Your voice cracks through his phone speaker as your face comes into view. He may love getting furniture and cooking utensils from thrift shops or Facebook marketplace, but he doesn’t cheap out on technology. His phone is the latest release and he's got a huge TV mounted on his wall. He tells people it’s because he needs the best tech to stay in shape, but he just wants to be able to watch superhero movies in the best quality. Such good quality that he could imagine himself as Spiderman in some of the scenes. Nerd.

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” he takes a slow sip of his tea, how should he ask you this favour? He doesn’t think you'll need that much convincing, so he's not worried about finding a plan b.

“Just left the mall, I could not decide on an outfit for tonight, so I just went a bought on” You lifted the bag that was in your hand to show Tom.

“What’s tonight?” he put his cup down with furrowed brows. “Hot date?”

“Yeah, with the entire faculty!” you laughed “Do you not remember? Tonight is the teacher meeting or party as some call it”

“That’s tonight? Fuck, I forgot” Tom groans. Faculty parties, an excuse to get drunk for some and a chance to hook up for others. Tom has done both. Not his best ideas, especially not when he slept with Michelle Rioux, a lunch lady, she got only a little obsessive, and Tom had to date her for a bit. She ended up moving away for a better job, he really didn’t know how he was going to get out of that relationship at first.

“Figures. You have to go, Thomas! You can’t leave me alone, I won’t get through the night all on my own” You seem to be walking, probably to your car with a cold expression on your face. You don’t want to be abandoned by Tom.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll go. Only because the drinks are free” he chugs the rest of his tea and makes his way to his bedroom. “It’s at 7, right?”

“Yup! At the usual pub, so you better start getting ready, you love dolling yourself up” you laughed as you got into your car. Tom laughed with you as he looked through his closet. “Help me choose an outfit?” he asks without looking at his phone.

“Of course, do you have any dark green? Like emerald?” you asked him. Tom hummed and put his phone down as he dug deeper.

“Why emerald?”

“So we can match obviously” your toned suggested that it was the most obvious thing. How could he not have understood that from the start? You had to be matching. Tom smiled at what you said, it seemed so domestic, so couple-y but it didn’t worry him. He knows how much of a sucker you are about matching your outfits together and he's never been able to say no to you.

“I have this, think Haz gave it to me” he pulls out a deep green silky shirt. He can’t recall ever wearing it before. He hears you go “Ooh” through his phone before you answer him.

“That’s perfect! It would look amazing with those sort of kaki plaid pants you have. You know the ones I’m talking about” Your face is so close to your screen; you want to see up close how this outfit forms.

“Mh yeah, it’s cold so I’ll wear my beige coat and my signature boots” he takes the pants you described from his wardrobe and laid them on his bed so you can judge the entire look.

“I’ve outdone myself with this one Tommy! Can’t wait to see you in it” you wink when he looks at you after flipping his camera back to his face. He smiles again and winks back.

“Think I can find my future fake fiancé in this?” he grabs a belt and some socks so he can have everything he needs out.

“Mh, only if you leave a few buttons undone. Then you might even have me at your feet” you fan yourself dramatically as you chuckle. Tom blushes at your comment and shakes his head.

“I’ll see you there love, we both have some dolling up to do”

It’s only after he hangs up that he realises he didn't ask you to take part in his failed plan to convince his family… he’ll have to find an opportunity sometime tonight.

♫*:..｡♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ･

It’s now 9:47, you and your coworkers have passed the term tipsy. You all sit at the same table laughing and talking louder than you probably should. Tom is sitting next to you; he has a pint in one hand, and his other arm rests on the back of your chair. You’re warm, too warm, but you can’t pinpoint if it's because of the alcohol or because of the arm that keeps grazing your back. So far no one has started making out or ran off to the bathroom for a quick fuck, so tonight is a pretty good night. There shouldn’t be any awkwardness in the teacher's lounge tomorrow. The first-grade teacher, Holly Kan, gasped loudly after downing her strawberry daiquiri in one go.

“We should play a game!” she announces as she ties her hair up into a ponytail, she must mean business. As soon as she hears a few people accept her proposal, including you and Tom, she smirks. “Never have I ever with my favourite brandy,” she asks the bartender for an entire bottle of brandy, but he doesn’t give it to her. She goes up to him, flirts a little, and comes back with the bottle held up high.

“Who goes first then?” Tom asks, he lifts his head a little to speak to Holly, almost as if looking straight ahead is impossible with the sombre lighting in the pub and the alcohol in his system. Whoever decided to do this gathering on a Thursday did not think it through.

“Well, you can Mr. Holland!” She pours everyone a shot and settles back into her chair. Tom sighs, throws his head back and strokes his chin with the hand that was holding his beer.

“Never have I ever… stolen someone's lunch from the fridge in the lounge” 6 out of 11 of the people in your group drink. Tom looks at you from the corner of his eye and scoffs. “Better drink up Ms. L/N, I’ve seen you take mine”

“I have never done such a thing!” you gasp, putting a hand to your chest as you stare him down. He only lifts one of his eyebrows as a response. You both know that you’ve taken his meal more than once, he’s a good cook and sometimes you don’t want to risk it with cafeteria food.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he says right before pinching the skin at the back of your arm. You swat his hand away and lean forward, this way he might not pinch you again. A few more people go before it's your turn.

You think about an act you've never done that others could have for a second. You look at Tom, trying to inspire yourself with his face or his soft-looking hair or his firm pecks -they peak out of his shirt, tempting you almost. When you lock eyes with him again you smirk.

“Never have I ever gotten a drunken tattoo of Pac-man on my inner thigh” you snicker your way through your sentence. Your eyes never leave Toms face, allowing you to see his stoic expression change into one of shock and annoyance. Your coworkers join you in making fun of Tom as he downs the shot Holly had filled up again.

“You're a pain in the ass” he shakes his head at you. “Thought I could trust you with that secret” he teases you filling up his shot glass again.

It's Holly's turn after yours. She seems in deep thought before finding something to share. Something you wish she had never chosen to say.

“Never have I ever had someone besides myself give me an orgasm” she laughs as she looks at everyone drink but then her eyes fall on your still full shot glass. “Y/N?? I’m waiting till marriage what’s your excuse?” her eyes are wide as if waiting for you to drink. You shrug looking down at your hands.

“Wow wow, weren’t you in a relationship with your high school boyfriend till like a year ago?” Mr. Carwilde, a history teacher, exclaims from the other end of the table. His wife, Ms. Carwilde the after-school activity organiser, slaps his arm.

“I was yes” you sigh not looking up. You feel Tom gently tap your arm, signalling for you to look at him. His face reads confusion. Mouth wide open, brows knit together as his eyes shift to every part of your face.

“He never made you cum?” Tom whispers his question probably wanting to avoid letting the other hear but it’s no use everyone is silent waiting for your answer.

“He was an incredibly selfish lover, I always had to finish myself off” you look away from Tom awkwardly, his gaze too piercing. “I haven’t been with anyone since him, sex seems pointless and sort of unappealing really” you take a sip of your iced water, maybe your body heat will go back down to normal if you drink enough of it.

No one says a thing. Complete silence overtakes the table, only the other guests are heard and the mixing of drinks behind the bar. Tom gently takes your hand dragging you away from the group. He makes sure to grab both your jackets before bringing you outside. The fresh air immediately cools you down, sobers you up a little as well. He gently drapes your coat around you before putting his own on. The streetlight next to you makes him look good. Too good. No one should look that good when piss drunk under a yellowish light.

“Thanks,” you say as you lean on the brink wall behind you.

“No need to thank me, I figured you needed to get out of there” he shrugs walking in front of you. Maybe to shield you from the outside, after such humiliation you, naturally, don’t want to be looked at by anyone.

“Yeah, didn’t think I would ever admit to that, I'm drunker than I thought” you let out a dry laugh, “at least everyone knows that Zayne is an asshole in bed” you look up and meet Toms’ eyes. He seems conflicted.

“He never got you to finish? You two were together for so long” he rests a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. You appreciate the gesture, but it reeks of pity, so you shrug him off.

“As a teen, I didn’t care, figured he would learn. Then we got… comfortable in our relationship and I didn’t dare break it up or even speak to him about it. I was scared I wouldn’t find better. So, I stayed with him even if he was horrible in bed. He only cared about himself, never even ate me out” you scoff as you remember it all.

“What?? He’s crazy, that’s one of my fucking favourite things to do. It’s addicting” he throws his hands up in the air and paces in front of you. You smile at his reaction, no one else would be so offended about this than him. “So, you have never been eaten out, ever?” he’s in a state of shock as you shake your head. You? His Y/N? Never had someone do that to you? “Did he ever ask you to suck him off?” you nod. Now Tom looks pained as if he’s just received the worse news of his life. “What an asshole” he mutters ruffling his curls out of his face.

“It is what it is I guess…” you put your arms into your sleeves and check your phone; it’s now close to midnight. You call yourself a taxi and offer to get one for Tom as well, but he declines. His flat is only a few streets down, so he wants to enjoy the fresh air.

Tom looks at you. Really looks at you. He sees the sad expression on your face, the way you stand straight trying to hide it, he looks at your body or at least what he can make out of it as a lot of it is in your jacket. He knows you’re pretty, gorgeous. When he first was hired, he tried to get in your pants more than once before you told him you had a long-term boyfriend, Zayne (the orgasm withholder). He stopped his advances as soon as you told him but that didn’t stop him from admiring you. You were always so kind to him and always made sure he knew where he was going in the school after his first day. Now, you’re single and still completely his type. Maybe you two could work something out…

“Y/N,” he says your name sweetly like it’s his favourite word. You look at him once again and tilt your head in questioning. “Feel free to slap me”

“Slap you? Why would I do that” you giggled as you look at him.

“I’m going to propose something weird here, so I’m giving you permission” he makes his way to you again and you now make out the determination on his face. You nod, letting him know to keep going.

“I need a fiancé to bring home tomorrow” he starts, and you nod again “and you have never had good sex” he adds. You start connecting his thoughts and your jaw drops. “So how about we make a deal” he shuts his eyes, anticipating a hit but you’re frozen in your spot. The gears in your head turn rapidly. What do you even want to think of this?

You’ve always thought of Tom as an attractive man, fluffy hair, bright eyes, a kind smile, and a mouth-watering physique. Anyone would jump at the opportunity to get into bed with him, so, his proposal isn’t the craziest. But what do you think of it? An orgasm would be amazing… wouldn’t your friendship suffer from such a huge shift in your dynamic. Yes, you flirt with each other constantly but that’s not the same as letting him get his mouth on you, is it?

Tom peeks one eye open reading your expression. It’s unreadable so he decides to open both of his eyes and wait. Wait for any kind of reaction from you. You look into his eyes and start to speak. Before you can even get a syllable out, you’re interrupted by harsh honking. You look over Toms’ shoulder and see a taxi waiting for you.

“Um, bye” you manage to say before rushing away. Tom turns around to watch you go before calling your name causing you to stop just before sitting in the car.

“I’ll take over all of your recess and detention duties for the rest of the year” he bargains something else. Something that shocks both of you a lot less. “Lying to them with you will be easier” You let out a breath and nod.

“Okay, see you tomorrow after class, fiancé”

♫*:..｡♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ･

You stand outside of the Holland household, Toms’ hand in yours with a fancy ring you bought yourself a few years ago on your ring finger. You and Tom spent the entirety of your lunch break picking the intricate details of your love life. Any question his family would throw at you, you’d both be ready. He looks at you one last time before knocking on the door. Even if it’s his childhood home he figures it’s best to knock, maybe it’ll give you a few more seconds to get mentally ready.

As soon as the door is yanked open Tom smiles seeing his mother. He steps into the house dragging you inside with him. Your hands clasped together. Nikki looks you over and smiles immediately nodding at Tom. You aren’t too sure what to make of that look, but you don’t let it get to you.

“Hi again Y/N, it’s so nice to see you after so long!” she hugs you tightly.

“Thank you for having me Nikki” you smiled at her as she pulls away. You take off your boots and your coat as she hugs Tom.

“Can’t believe you two kept this a secret from us! We have been rooting for you two since Tom first introduce you” she shakes her head in disbelief, taking your left hand into her own. “Oh, Tom this ring is gorgeous, you picked a good one” Tom isn’t sure if she’s only talking about the ring.

“Had her friend help me out” he grins as the three of you make your way to the living room. You already see four more heads sitting on the couch ready to be introduced.

“Boys look who it is!” Nikki says excitedly walking towards them. She gestures towards the two of you when she’s in front of them. All four of them turn around in a synchronised motion. Harry gasps when he sees who’s hanging off his brothers’ arm.

“You owe me 20 pounds Sam!” he cheers nudging his twin with his foot. Sam groans and waves the other off.

“So, everyone this is Y/F/N, my fiancé” Tom smiles widely and hugs you to his side. Everyone greats you, they all have a shared gleam in their eyes. Some sort of hope. You great all of them back answering their questions before you are dragged to the couch between Nikki and Dom. She had prepared the coffee table for Tom and his partner arrival. Many family picture books and art projects -you can only presume they were all made by a younger Tom- are stacked on the wood and are ready to be looked through.

“Please don’t embarrass me too much, I still have to look somewhat cool to her” he groans as he sits down directly in front of you on a footrest. His brothers laugh at him as their mother instantly goes for the pictures of Tom terrified at a theme park. He’s in tears in every picture, Nikki explains that he had a slight fear of mascots and kept getting shocked. He still had fun but only on the rides and he’d burst into tears as soon as they were back on the ground. You laughed as you looked through each album with his family. They all gave more details behind each picture, even Tom shared some embarrassing stories about himself. Your cheeks were in pain as you hadn’t stopped smiling. You looked at trips, first school day, pool days, graduation, athletic competitions and so many moments of Toms’ life that you didn’t know about before tonight.

Tom was looking at you interact with his family. The most important people in his life. You seemed to fit right in with them with such ease as if you always should have been there. Laughing at pictures of him giving himself bubble beards during bath time or cooing at his first Halloween costume, a banana onesie. It should scare him. How much he likes seeing you there, having brought you with him. He’s never been the type to bring a girl home, he doesn’t do that. So, even if fake, having you here and him being so okay with it is a sort of revelation to him. Maybe no other girl had been worthy of the spot you sit in right now, between his parents. Maybe he’s found someone he could keep breaking his boundaries with.

A little later you all ate dinner together. Sharing more stories and anecdotes. You were getting more questions about your relationship, so you were very glad that you and Tom had taken the time to figure these things out.

“I’m glad it’s you Y/N, Tom has been enamoured with you for so long now. He talked about you all the time, I’m happy he gets to be with you now” Dom speaks with a gentle expression on his face. He’s pleased to see this relationship has bloomed well, that his son is with someone good. You don’t let the shock you feel show as you.

Tom enamoured with you… The man that doesn’t do anything more than hookups and very short flings? What his father said sounds like he’s been having emotions or at least that you've been stuck in his head for a while now… You knew that in the beginning he wanted to do you, that was no secret, but you thought it didn’t get any further than that, how could it have? You look at Tom hoping to get something from him but he’s not looking at you.

“My dad is exaggerating… I talked about you a normal amount” he brushes it out coolly taking a bite of his steak. You smile tightly taking a sip of the drink Nikki gave you. This new tension between you and Tom is invisible to his parents and his brothers but you both can feel it crash over you suddenly. You’re reminded of the feeling you had when he had offered to make you orgasm. The rush of different emotions, clammy hands, a speeding heart and being unable to formulate a coherent thought.

“Have you two had any thoughts about what you want the wedding to look like? Where do you want to go on your honeymoon or even baby names?” Nikki asks excitedly looking at the both of you.

“Um, we haven’t really thought about any of that just yet” Tom scratches the back of his neck before stuffing his mouth full of food, avoiding being questioned again. Nikki rolls her eyes and looks directly at you.

“What about you, dear? Anything you want?” she clasped her hands together and leans on them. Her eyes are kind, but they want answers. She has been waiting for this moment forever now.

“I mean… I’d like an outdoor wedding probably near a castle or palace of sorts just for the pictures. I don’t want something too big, but I want all our families present and our closest friends. I know Tom loves the outdoors and hiking so maybe Iceland for our honeymoon, we could see some aurora borealis. For kids, I’m not sure. I want 2 or 3 maybe… names I don’t have anything right now so, yeah” You finish your glass after sharing your thoughts. Marriage and such had been something you’d looked at before. Being with Zayne for so long, that was the next logical step at one point. You’re glad it didn’t get to that though.

Tom smiles when he realised you’d included him in this plan. Even if it was fake, he liked that you’d thought of him and his interests for a honeymoon, Iceland would probably be amazing with you.

“That sounds lovely, darling,” he said kissing your temple gently.

Tom leads you to his bedroom after you have all had dessert, he carries both your bags. He stops in front of what you assume is his bedroom door and you open it, letting him go in first. He sets the bags on the floor next to his bed. The room is cosy, he's clearly changed it since his years of living with his parents. There's nothing really in it that screams teenage Tom, no superhero decor, no video game console or even half-naked girls hung up on his walls. He had shown you pictures of himself in high school, some showcased those glorious pictures. He claimed they were “accidentally” exposed.

“So what do think of the Hollands?” he asks you as he throws himself backwards onto his bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are thrown up above his head.

“Just as nice as the last time I saw them” you sit next to him, you contemplate laying down next to him but it might be too intimate. Too intimate might just scare him off. He nods with a grin.

“They seem to like you enough, think they believe it all” he leans up on his forearms and looks at you. You turn your body towards him. His curls are pushed back, eyes lidded with exhaustion and a tight turtleneck framing his athletic build. He’s not wearing anything too crazy, it's an outfit he's worn countless times before but fuck. He is dangerously attractive. So dangerous you're close to being trapped, tangled with him in ways you'd never thought you'd be with him. Well, at least not really… Ok yes, maybe you'd thought about it once or twice. Or a few hundred times before. He's hot ok!?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he's now sitting, body leaning towards your own. Your breath hitches but at the same time it gets quicker. His face is inches away from your own. You could count his lashes if you wanted to.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive” his smile ever so slowly forms into a smirk. You meet his eyes rapidly when you notice they'd been stuck on his lips. Hypnotising.

“Maybe… maybe I should take the floor” you mumble, placing a hand on his shoulder and lightly pushing. He doesn't budge nor even a little.

“Nonsense, we'll share the bed, fiancé. Thank my parents for buying me a queen size bed in high school” he places a hand just above your knee and pushes himself up, back onto his feet. “I'll have a quick shower, I'd offer for you to join but I’m betting my mom will be in here any second now” he winks and leaves his bedroom. The door shuts softly behind him.

You breathe in and out slowly before letting yourself collapse onto his maroon linens. Dangerous.

♫*:..｡♡*ﾟ¨ﾟﾟ･

Tom and you do end up sharing the bed but there was no more… tension? At least not the same kind that happened before he got washed, not the kind that had you clenching your thighs together when he walked back into his room with a towel low on his hips. Definitely not the kind that made you feel slightly ashamed when his mother peeked her head in to say goodnight. But then again you liked that kind of tension.

It's early in the morning. The sun peeks through Toms window, illuminating his bedroom in a soft yellow glow. Tom is still sleeping with a gaping mouth that occasionally lets out soft snores, charming really. You're scrolling through your phone, liking a few pictures as you go. You keep getting distracted, Tom twitches a little in his slumber. Not much, it's almost as if to remind you he's laying there, right next to you. He did once tell you he liked cuddling well mainly with Tessa but still. Maybe he's trying to hold onto something.

You put your phone back on the bedside table and lay down facing him. You're, once again, close enough to count his lashes. You don't but you could. He twitches again and it makes him close his mouth harshly, maybe he's dreaming?

You notice that his forehead is damp, oh so too warm. You pull the covers away from him gently, revealing the rest of his body. He had said that he usually sleeps in his underwear but stayed fully clothes for the sake of sharing a bed so that might be why he's overheating. When his body is out of the blanket you look him up and down, your eyes quickly snapping back to his face.

That's why he's been twitching so much?? Seeing Tom Hollands morning wood, even covered by his clothes, was not something you were ever expecting to see. In your dreams maybe but in reality, so close to you? Never.

You could try and get out of the bed but that would risk him waking up and seeing how flustered you are. So staying right where you are is the best option, at least for now. You carefully grab your phone again and try distracting yourself with anything you scroll upon. Cat videos, cooking recipes, DIY tips, anything! But then you're seeing one of Tom's posts, him at the gym. Nothing unusual, he loves showing off. He even has an account for children workouts, he lets his students follow that one. This one though it's private, only for the people he chooses to let in. You're there and able to see every single picture of his active lifestyle.

Your eyes drift back to him, to his crotch. You feel dirty looking at him like this but it's so difficult to look away. Mr Holland… What a sexy sexy man. You suck in a breath and move closer to him, not necessarily to wake him up or to start anything. You can feel his body heat this way, he's truly overheating. As you shift into a comfortable position, your phone slips from your grasp and down between the wall and the bed onto the floor. It clatters loudly, startling Tom awake.

His eyes snap open and he takes in a sharp breath. He turns on his back as he rubs his face. His eyes blink a few times before he looks at you. He smiles tiredly, wraps his arms around you and shuffles closer to you. You're pressed to his side; head on his chest and the rest of your body stuck to his.

“Morning, love” he croaks out before clearing his throat.

“Hi” you answer him. You make sure your hands are kept to yourself and that your eyes don't drift down. It would be embarrassing getting caught having a staredown with the bulge in his pants.

“Did u sleep well?” you ask him trying to distract yourself.

“Yeah, think I ran a bit warm though” his free hand travels to the base of his shirt fanning himself a little. You're not sure if he's purposefully choosing to ignore his dick or if he's still stuck in a half awake haze. You made an affirming sound still looking away, you will not look down, you will not look down, you will n- why are you looking down?

Tom's hand is resting on his stomach, moving in slow circles seemingly giving himself some belly rubs. Would be cute if it wasn't for well that. He shifts his body a little and then stretches his legs out. When you feel his entire body stiffen you think he's finally felt the situation happening in his pants.

“Shit, shit I'm sorry Y/N” he lets go of your body moving away from you, probably wanting to get up and far away.

At first, you let him. He's almost out of the bed when your mind drifts to when you agreed to this. When he's suggested trying to give you an orgasm. You think about what his first offer was and how it made you feel. You grab his wrist and tug. He stumbles back into a sitting position and stares at you. You gulp as you sit up, his wrist still held tightly in your hand.

“Do you, um, remember what the first thing you offered me was?” you don’t dare look up. You're terrified of what he might say or of what his face may look like.

“You mean the night of the faculty party?” his voice is low but you can't hear any disgust so you look up at him. His eyes are stuck on you, chest going up and down rapidly. You nod, your voice stuck in your throat.

“Maybe… maybe you could show me what good sex feels like” you're surprised at how strong your gaze is, it doesn't even waver and stays locked with Toms. His is piercing, analytic.

“Yeah?” his body is slowly getting closer to yours, moving with practised ease.

“Yeah” you nod again tugging him towards you.

He looks at your lips and back up to your eyes. He searches for resistance, hesitation, he doesn't want to do this unless you absolutely want to. When all he finds is determination, the hand you aren't holding goes up to your neck. His face is practically on yours, he's so close, not close enough. You tug him forwards again and press your lips to his.

Addictive, sensual, dangerous. Tom's lips move against yours roughly, like he's trying to meld the both of you together. Your breaths are loud between kisses but there's never a long moment before you meet again. You let go of his wrist and immediately start tugging at the base of his shirt. He takes it off but doesn't waste a second to reconnect your lips. His hands wander your body they go onto your cheeks, your waist, your ass, anywhere he can reach.

Your mind can't think it can only chant “Tom” over and over again. It's like he's taken over every single part of you, your body heats with want with need. Your lips already feel blissfully numb it's the kind of feeling that lingers.

Your hands travel his naked chest, reach around to his back pulling him closer so his front is pressed to your own. You break away from him to slip your shirt off, freeing your upper body and allowing Tom to see your bare chest. He sucks a breath in through his teeth and brings one of his hands up.

“You're so hot” he mumbles as he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth. He licks it before wrapping his lips around it and sucks, your other breast isn't left unattended for long as he takes it in his free hand. The moan you let out surprises you, not used to getting this kind of attention.

“Tom” your voice is airy, quiet. You push him away, allowing yourself to lay down and get comfortable against the pillows you were both sleeping on just a few moments ago. Tom smirks but he doesn't join you. Instead, he stands up making your brows furrow in confusion. Before you can ask what he's up to, his pyjama pants are off and he's left standing in his boxers. Your eyes lift to his wanting to avoid direct eye contact with his cock. Your heart races and you feel warm all over so you decide to follow Tom's lead, removing your pants. You're left in your soaked underwear. His knees almost buckled as he looks at you, looks at all you're letting him see.

“So fucking pretty, love” he crawls on top of you with lidded eyes. “Gonna be so good to you, I'll make you feel things you never even knew possible” he kisses you softly before starting to trail them along your jaw and down your neck. A full-body shudder makes its way through you as Tom makes his way down your frame. Your hands tangle in the sheets below you and your eyes never leave him. You watch his every move as you pant softly, anticipation coursing through you.

“You're so responsive… it's incredibly arousing” Tom mumbles against the skin of your inner thighs. He pressed his soft lips to them before sucking, taking the skin between his teeth for only a second the feeling goes straight to your core. Heating up your already warm cunt. You're so wet, your dark panties probably don't show it but you can feel it.

“Take them off” you beg between pants. You're already so overwhelmed and he hasn't even touched your core.

“You're going to fall apart so quickly, darling,” he says or more so affirms. You both know his words are true. Your first orgasm that wasn't from your own hand or helped along with some toys is, hopefully, happening soon.

“Let me teach you all the ways you can feel” he adds as he takes hold of your panties and drags them down your legs until he can toss them away.

Your folds glisten with wetness, pent up arousal leaking from you. Tom groans at the sight, a deep throaty sound that almost makes your back arch of the bed.

“Please, just do it” you whine softly, reminding yourself that you aren't alone in this house. Your left-hand lets go of the sheets to tangle itself in Toms curls, desperately tugging him forward.

He doesn't waste any time, connecting with your cunt sloppily. His tongue makes quick work of locating and licking your clit. He circles it, alternating between that and lapping at you with a flat tongue. You feel his hands go up and down your legs, slowly getting closer to where Tom works.

He leans down and starts thrusting his wet member in and out of you. It's so wet, so messy, so good. Your moans are most likely too loud for what they should be in this setting but you don't care. You've never felt this good and you make sure to tell Tom. Not that he needs the ego boost.

He takes his face away, wet from his nose to his chin, clearly enjoying himself.

“You like that, doll?” he presses a soft kiss to your mound, you shiver almost violently letting out a whimper. “Want to come on my face? Feel something you've never felt before, huh?” his hands finally meet your folds.

He looks down at you as he parts them, rubbing them all along your lips; teasing your entrance. Your back lifts and Tom snakes a hand in the space between his bed and you, holding you at that angle.

He pushes his fingers into you slowly, leans back down; savouring your taste once more. His thrusting makes you squirm, you have never been touched so gently yet so full of purpose. Even if Tom is pushing his fingers in and out of you at a laboured pace, he keeps reminding you to stay here, with him. Not to get too lost in your head, he wants to see everything you feel, everything you're thinking about. His mouth connects with your wet folds again, stimulating your sensitive bud as he's entering you. Your pelvis rocks back and forth helping yourself along.

“Fuck, don’t stop, please!” you choke out. Your moans keep getting louder and more desperate, you’ll wake the whole household at this point, so you let go of Tom's hair and cover your mouth. Hopefully, you’re able to muffle the sounds that leave your mouth. Tom hums against you, pressing his face forward to get more of you on his tongue. His hand never stops moving, his digits rubbing at your walls rapidly. He must sense you getting tighter as you get more desperate the closer you get to falling apart completely.

“You’re so close, Y/N. Cum for me, only for me” he insists against you.

Your eyes roll back as your thighs quiver around Tom's head. His face buried in you not stopping for a second his lapping or the thrusts he does with fingers. Your back is arched off the bed and your muscles are stiff. It courses through you, making tears drip down your face and eager whimpers slip through the barrier you’re creating on your mouth.

Suddenly you fall limp. All tension gone from your body leaving you in a sedated cloud of pleasure. Your breath is irregular and heavy as if each inhales and exhales demand incredible amounts of energy.

Tom gets up from the bed and quickly walks out of his bedroom to the bathroom to get a damp rag and to rinse off the wetness you leftover on his face. He’s back before you can even register he was gone and he takes care of you. You look at him through your lashes and a dopey smile forms as you lock eyes with him.

“Should have accepted your first offer” you mutter when he helps you slip your loose pyjama shirt back on. He laughs softly and sits down next to your limp body. That’s when you realise the hard bulge still present in his underwear. The reason as to why this even happened.

“So want me to suck you off? Return the favour?” you ask him with a cheeky smirk. He shakes his head, he can see that you’re seconds away from falling into an intense orgasm slumber.

“Not now, darling. Maybe I’ll take up on that later though, when you can sit up on your own” he winks just before your eyes fall shut.

“Mh can’t wait” sleep takes over you and Tom runs off to the bathroom.

tada

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland spiderman #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom x reader #thomas holland #x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #valentine bingo

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dumblydork · 3 years ago

Text

Dying Embers

Her hair swished wildly in the wind, as if it were leaves swaying from the onset of a cyclone- flowing down to her waist, head thrown back. Fiery red, just like the dying embers of what was formerly a warming furnace. He could hear her laughter, slow and melodic, almost as if it were empyrean. She was the love of Harry's entire being. The soul to his body, the mind to his brain. She turned around, and all Harry could glimpse was her mouth- full, and pulled into a large smile. Her eyes were a bright hazel, shining with happiness, as she ran towards Harry, fitting easily in his arms.

They had met at the ball thrown by his parents that summer, exactly so that their son could meet a suitable young woman to marry. Harry had been extremely bored with the festivities, instead wishing he were out practicing archery with his friend, Neville.

His eyes flew around the room, passing from and then returning to a young woman who had just entered the gala. She didn't seem familiar, and was chaperoned by who seemed to her brother, judging from their hair. Harry was mesmerised- her yellow dress floated around her as if it were made of the finest, lightest silk to exist, and her hair was pulled back elegantly, exposing the milky column of her neck. He walked towards the pair.

"Forgive my intrusion, but will the lovely lady here consider dancing the next waltz with me?" Harry bowed slightly, his hand pulled tightly at his back.

The girl eyed him shyly as his brother did a more open appraisal. "We would like to first make your acquaintance, sir." He finally spoke.

"Of course, forgive me. I am Lord Harry Potter, Viscount of Little Whinging." He said, an automatic confidence seeping into his voice, one which only came from being the son of a duke.

"Forgive me, my Lord, I did not know. I am Ronald Weasley, and this is my younger sister, Ginevra Weasley. Our father is the Baron Weasley of Burrows." The pair bowed deeply, something which made Harry slightly uncomfortable.

"Please, I take no offense. It is my pleasure to make an acquaintance of Lord Weasley's children. He is my father's close friend. My question, however, to Lady Ginevra here remains unanswered." Harry steered the topic back to more important things from mere formalities.

"Of course, my lord." Ginevra said softly, placing her hand in Harry's outstretched one. As they walked towards the center of the floor, Harry's eyes met the identical ones of his mother, who stood to the side, flashing her son a soft smile.

"I adore you. And so does every thread of my existence, until my breath ceases." Harry spoke, bringing himself back from the night at the ball.

"I simply reciprocate, my Lord. And shall do so until death pull us part." She spoke softly, meeting Harry's lips with her own.

At the brink of twilight, a day before their wedding, the two of them wove their lives together, sealed by golden vows.

---

"Harry? Get on up, it's time to go!" His mother, Lily's voice flitted through the room, and sunlight poured inside as well, casting a bright glow all over. Harry sat up in bed, stretching excessively, getting rid of the multitude of pulls and pains he seemed to acquire over the night.

His parents swore he did not sleepwalk and fall down the stairs.

"Harry, honey, come on. You'll be late for uni otherwise." His mother peeked inside, her reddish brown hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head, green eyes shining with motherly affection. Seeing his mother's hair, Harry was reminded of his dream- recurring dream, he should say. Even though it was simply a few minutes old, seeing the 'girl' in his dream, he felt as if it were quite some lifetimes ago.

He had been dreaming of a girl quite frequently lately, and not in the lewd way his best friend Ron seemed intent on. Harry would always simply spot her hair, the curve of her waist and as soon as she turned around, he would be jolted awake.

When he was a child, his mother used to tell him tales in which princesses would dream of faceless men, a golden bond tying the two people together. The faceless person you dreamt about was whom you shared your golden thread of life with. But those were just fantasy- woven to make a dull reality exciting. At least now, at the age of 19, was what Harry believed. He hopped out of bed, and walked off into the bathroom, getting started on his morning routine. It was half past eight when he went downstairs, his first class of the morning at 9:15. His father, James, was stood in front of the kettle, pouring himself a cup of his morning Earl Grey, and his mother was setting down the plate of pancakes on the table.

"Breakfast?" She asked, sitting down, his dad joining her to the left. "Morning Haz." His father grinned lopsidedly, a grin much like Harry's own, glasses steaming up from the hot mug. Harry recited a greeting in return and was about to refuse breakfast on the account of well, running late, when the smell of butter floated up to him and he found himself seated in front of his parents.

"Did you get sore again?" Lily asked, concern lacing her low voice.

"Yeah. I just don't seem to know how." Harry noted, voice muffled from a mouth full of pancakes.

"Slow down, you'll choke." She admonished lightly, shooting James an exasperated look when he snickered a low 'That's what she said' into his morning Daily Prophet.

"He probably needs a new mattress. Let's get one on the weekend." His mother said, earning an affirmative hum from James who was busy with his newspaper.

"I'll get going now. Bye mum, bye dad. See you in the evening." He spoke after having had his share of pancakes and a chat with his mum. He bent down for the customary top-of-the-head kiss from his mother, something she had been doing since Harry started school. And although he wouldn't admit it, he adored this little sentiment. His dad shot him another grin as he walked out of the door, putting in his earphones.

Fortunately for him, the university campus was quite a short bus ride away. However, he still found himself running across the campus from the bus stop to his lecture theatre- he forgot to factor in the fact that the hall today was all on the opposite end of campus.

"Shit," He glanced at his phone, currently glowing 9:21. It was Professor Binns' lecture, and he wasn't too fond of latecomers. Harry counted on his excellent grade in the module, hoping that would pull him through. As he ran across, his peripheral vision noted a mane of red momentarily, but before Harry could turn around and see, he was already in front of the class, digging through the bag for his ID card.

---

"How is it that Binns' lectures keep getting worse through the term?" Ron, the aforementioned best friend groaned.

"Because your attention dwindles further as term moves on." Hermione, the other best friend noted. Harry grinned between the two of them. They were so in love, those oblivious idiots.

Binns' was the only class the three of them took together, and Ron departed for his Victorian Literature module. Harry and Hermione walked to the open amphitheatre, choosing to spend their free half hour which coincided together.

"Oh right. My friend from school is joining today, I was supposed to go show her around. Fancy coming?" Hermione spoke, eyes focused on her text messages. "Sure, I have the rest of the morning free." Harry pursed his lips. Hermione simply nodded and they set off across the campus again after the brief interlude at the theatre.

"Your friend is from school?" Harry asked.

"Yeah- she's a year younger but we were quite close when I was in year 12." She replied, eyes scanning the crowd at in front of the Lifesciences Lab, which was one of the main buildings on campus. "Who are we looking for again?" He imitated the search.

"Redhead, shorter than you." Hermione did not look up from the hoard of people, before her mouth set into a wide grin.

"Ginny! Here!" Hermione waved her arms around, jumping up and down in tandem. Harry couldn't see who Hermione was waving to, but the crowd was being roughly pushed aside as someone made their way towards the pair.

"Hermione! So good to see you!" The woman said, grabbing the older girl into a tight hug and letting go, placing the three of them in a triangular formation.

"Oh my god, I almost forgot to come see you." Hermione said somewhat sheepishly, but Harry wasn't listening. He was staring- no, gaping at the newcomer. Her hair was the exact shade of red as the girl in Harry's dream, and it cascaded down her back in a half up half down style. Her waist was encased in a light yellow sundress, complimenting her red hair. All in all, she was beautiful. Not because of her hair or slender figure, but also because of how her eyes shone as she spoke to Hermione.

"Have I seen you before?" Tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could stop (or reason), and a pair of bright hazel eyes bore into his own moss green, before glittering again. Ginny simply smiled.

~~~~

And here it is, another AU! I definitely did not plan for this to be a multiple lifetime AU, but Regency!Hinny seemed too good to pass up on. I apologise for what is probably a very poorly written Regency era conversation, my knowledge of it is simply from Bridgerton and Google haha. I decided to keep the end open, just so that you guys can envision your own romance for them! Also, can I just say how I loved writing Lily and James?? It's their little debut in my one-shots yay!

Also, you can find my Ao3 here, where I post quite fluffy Wolfstar one-shots, if that's your thing!

I hope you enjoyed this as usual! Please interact with my pinned TAGLIST post on my account if you wish to be notified of whenever I post Hinny one-shots! Thank you for reading, and big hugs to everyone who loves what I write! Please keep going, it truly makes my day (or week??) xxxx

TAGLIST: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @coffee-fandoms-and-chaos //

#ginny weasley #harry x ginny #harry potter #regency!au #multiple lifetimes #hinny au #hinny fluff #one shot #author #alternate universes #hermione #uni au #open ending #okay out of tags

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dfcfanfics · 1 year ago

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Honestly, I don't plan on watching it at all.

Being tactful as to why. Long old man ramble follows.

Point one: I loathe musicals as a genre. There are very, very few exceptions to that rule for me, and they're generally ones in which either the musical numbers can be jettisoned with no impact on the plot, and are just there because that's what movies were back then (old-timey stuff), or ones that deliberately play around with the tropes of what a traditional musical is (like, say, Cannibal! The Musical).

I find it hilarious that if there was one episode that pretty much EVERYONE in the fandom points to as being its low point, it's the Christmas special, with the leads bravely warbling their way through some ill-advised songs. I'm gobsmacked that they went back to that well.

Point two: It's not canon, it can't be canon, it can basically never even approach canon.

I'm not going to begrudge Zag the opportunity to put nicely-animated meet-cutes on a bigger screen. I mean, I write fanfic. That's my own take on starting with a canon framework and diverging wildly, isn't it? So Zag can do the same, if he chooses to.

If I, just putting it out there, was in charge of a multi-multi-million-dollar enterprise with a popular television series that just finished its first multi-season major story arc, and I was quite proud of that story and how it was told and how the fans responded to it, I don't know that making its big-screen debut a complete reboot/rewrite of the series, changing several core dynamics AND delivering resolutions that the canon series is not likely to ever reach would be my method of choice.

But that's me.

Point three: It puts the canon series in a very awkward position.

Given the above, I ask you this. If I am new to the series -- not an existing fan, but intrigued by this big-budget film that popped up on Netflix -- and I like what I see in the movie, what will I see when I tune into the series?

Whether I pick it up with Season 6 or start with earlier episodes on Disney, not much is going to match up. The big things that happen in the movie -- especially near its end -- won't be reflected in the series. I'm going to be more than a bit confused.

And if I am a diehard fan, aren't the big things in this movie teasing me, giving me there what I'm pretty sure I'll never get in canon?

If the Miraculous series was over and done with -- and I remain firm in my belief that for all intents and purposes, it should be now, and that S6 and beyond are Supernatural-style padding unless the writing turns out to be VERY clever -- the movie would be a nice little valentine for the fans, either as a recap/retelling or as a continuation of where the series stopped. But it isn't.

Point four: I SAID IT'S A GODDAMNED MUSICAL. EEEUURGH.

Point five: Pacing!

I know that the series has been a very long slow burn. We spent five seasons watching our heroic couple slowly overcome their fears and doubts, grow closer in various combinations, grow as individuals and finally emerge where we've wanted them to go. That's a long trip, and there are aspects of it that are still underdeveloped IMHO, and there's still more to be done to flesh it out.

Now. Can you do all of that, going from the very first meet-cute to the end of the ride, BEYOND where the series will have gone after five seasons... in an hour and a half... and do it at all credibly, especially with songs taking up running time as well? Audience members have literally grown out of the show's target age range in the time it's taken Marinette and Adrien to get to the kissing parts. How does one portray that kind of personal transformation in an extremely rapid manner, and make it work and make it resonate?

Point six: Personal reasons.

I have an inordinate fondness for this show, as should be obvious from my having pumped out seventy-one stories and a million-and-a-quarter words about it to date -- and that's not counting dozens and dozens of story prompts to encourage others to do the same.

The endless leaks that spoiled pretty much everything about Season 5 really poisoned the creative well for me as a writer. I did a few one-shots, I have a short piece in progress right now filling in a timeskip gap in the S5 finale, but I felt unable to put anything substantial together given their impact.

I don't like several things about how S5 ended, how several aspects were handled, and where it appears to be headed. There's a character who'll be prominently featured in S6 that I don't like, whom I consider to be a half-baked idea that's only gone further off the rails with every appearance, and I don't plan on writing for them if I can help it. And as noted, I just feel like...

...can I begrudge Team Miraculous for getting one grab at the brass ring that connected, one hit show, and riding that pony as long as it's possible to go? Nah. I might choose the exact same route if I was invested in its development.

But I would rather see a story told well that contains one of a story's most important elements -- its ending. And if a non-ending goes places that I might not care to follow... we'll see if anything follows on my end.

This is not "Goodbye, Miraculous." There is certainly a chance that things that emerge from here on out will inspire me in one way or another... and I wish Team Zag good luck in taking the post-S5 world somewhere that makes sense and does exactly that for me.

Just not betting on it except in spits and spurts, though. ;)

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beggingwolf · 3 years ago

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ao3 tag game below~

tagged by @ticklefighthockey thaaaanks

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

21 but one doesn't count because it's an editor's commentary version of another of my fics

2. what’s your current ao3 wordcount?

180,776

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

:) that is for me to know and you not to know. but uh, technically ... three? I think? I dunno I've been a part of many fandoms and I do not recall which I've actually written in and subsequently nuked my fics off the face of the earth (rip mid 2000s twilight fandom) for. the only still-existing fanworks by me are in hockey rpf

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. There Will Be Time (a/b/o world juniors.... I guess people like my brand) 2. The Killing Kind (....a/b/o world juniors mafia edition. I really went all out for my debut fic huh) 3. Little Broken Things (morose broken-jawed werewolf sid. this one surprises me, I feel like it's not widely appealing) 4. Hunger (werewolves baby!) 5. Dreamboy (broken-jawed sid, sans werewolves)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I do! I'm pretty good at responding to almost every one, because comments mean so much to me. unfortunately I've been going through a few things lately, and kinkfest means my inbox has like 46 messages that I need to respond to and I am putting it off until I get my head screwed on right 😩

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

lol I mean, I guess Blessed are the Chosen? I wouldn't call it angst, it's just... dark. I haven't really done proper angst; that does not mean I haven't thought about it!

7. do you write crossovers?

no!

8. have you ever received hate on a fic?

no but I did get some unsolicited concrit on my last one 😂

9. do you write smut?

you bet your ass I do

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

.....I don't think so? ignorance is bliss man idk

11. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but 👀 be on the lookout for something at the end of this year on that front

12. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

all-time? damn uhhhhh it'd be stupid to say something other than sidgeno, right? that's all I've written, it's all I intend to write for the time being, I've been involved in sidgeno fandom for like five years, which is a long time, fandom-speaking. also I'm really into some fictional pairings I don't consider myself a "shipper" for, since I don't make or consume fanworks for them, you know?

13. what was the first fandom you wrote for?

ah, preteen rimouskis was introduced to fandom via twilight. it was crackfic. yes I read 50SoG back when it was MotU and yes I was too young to be doing that.

14. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I have a thing where, honestly, in the days after I finish something, I'm super jazzed about it and I'll read it over a lot, but as time passes the sheen will fade and I'll tire of it and find it wanting. that means usually the longer it's been since I've written it, the more I dislike it.

so, because of that, probably A Drowning in California, my most recent work. I don't think it's particularly special, but it's the most advanced plot I've written (I don't count TKK) and I feel like I did, overall, what I wanted to do with it. Will I feel that way in a year? Who knows.

a surprise runner-up is actually Blessed are the Chosen because it's unlike anything I've written and a lot of things I've read, and though I wrote it basically in a fugue state in 48 hours with very little planning, it's garnered some cult (lol) support among the people who are into that sort of story, and I'm proud of it.

I invite anyone who's not done this to join in, no tag needed!

#tag game

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popwasabi · 4 years ago

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“End of Evangelion” and the tempting nature of oblivion

(TW: Suicide, Self-harm, Pain, Depression, Mental Health, Death)

“End of Evangelion” is a perplexing movie to say the least.

Not that the original classic anime “Neon Genesis Evangelion” series ends on exactly the most conclusive note itself, but “End” takes everything that transpired in the series and literally destroys it.

The films ends with Earth experiencing the long foreshadowed Third Impact and all of the planet returning to the primordial “soup,” as fans call it, with its main protagonist Shinji Ikari and comrade Asuka Langley Soryu as the only remaining humans left. A pseudo, twisted rebeginning of Adam and Eve’s Genesis.

The film is fairly divisive among the fans to say the least. Some fans consider it a masterpiece for its nihilistic tone and mind-bending illustrations of body horror and others despised it for being too dark and confusing with no clear explanation of anything that happened in the film’s events. Hell, even the movie’s fans have a difficult time explaining what exactly happens in the narrative.

I was somewhat in the middle with it after I watched it the first time not super long ago. It was certainly abstract, and I like plenty of stories that don’t make it easy for me to understand. The animation is definitely the franchise’s best and I enjoyed the character moments between Shinji, Asuka, and Misato. But it was also, as stated before, dreadfully confusing and still to this day hard to makes heads or tails out of with its plot.

But, as with more than a few movies I have revisited this year, 2020 helped me contextualize one aspect I think the story is concretely trying to get across.

(We’ll save discussion of “Rebuild” for another day...)

At my lowest points not long ago, I had this frequent vision that would crawl across my mind.

I imagined being up in the clouds on a beautiful sunny day, but I wasn’t floating or flying. I was plummeting, falling like a bird without wings at a speed that would definitely kill me once I got to the ground. But I never imagined actually hitting the Earth like a meat-bagged, human sized asteroid. I only ever imagined the falling part. The wind reaching a terminal velocity and the air rushing past my body and you know what look I had on my face?

Happiness.

I was confused a bit by why I kept imagining this moribund fall into oblivion over and over again. I wasn’t suicidal, though I certainly have had thoughts of self-harm plenty of times before and general detachment from life. But why the fuck was I so happy? I’m about to die after all!

What I have come to realize in recent years, as I’ve developed a better understanding of my mental health and what makes me tick, it wasn’t that I wanted to die so much as I wanted the freedom that comes moments before it. The feeling of finally letting go and letting fate/gravity do the rest.

Years of my life failing at various aspects of societal expectations and career obligations from not being able to get the girls I wanted to date so badly, relationships ending poorly, not quite applying myself the way I should’ve in college, and working a plethora of unfulfilling jobs since graduation made me yearn for that release. Just that feeling of saying “fuck it all” and giving in to the void.

I wanted to stop feeling out of control. The way the world is structured often feels like you are on a wild, rapid river flowing in one very stark direction but you desperately want to go the other way. You keep fighting and fighting it and realize after a while you are just swimming in place, you tire out and either float where the river wants you to go or you drown. I wanted neither of those things, I just wanted control and unfortunately part of life is accepting that a very large percentage of it is beyond your power to alter.

2020 made this feeling starkly apparent once again as we were hit with a once in a lifetime global pandemic that has killed 2.21 million people and counting. As common people struggle to find ways to handle the loss of loved ones and the fallout from economic instability those tasked with protecting us have more or less ignored the cries of needy. Hell, they’re fucking miffed that we would even have the audacity to ask for $2000 of our own fucking tax dollars to put a band-aid on the situation. Combine this with an extremely volatile two-party system and late stage capitalism, we are about as out of control as ever in terms of how much we actually can course correct our destinies in a period like this.

It is why so many irony-pilled millennials and gen z-ers are posting dank memes about meteors colliding with the earth over the course of the year. We’ve lived through two recessions, two forever wars, and now a pandemic in our lifetimes while paying off our crippling debt with slave wages and yet boomers still wonder why we are near universally depressed as a generation.

(Seriously, everybody needs a fucking therapist right now...and also to dismantle the fucking system that’s making us depressed!)

This is what I feel is the real heart of “End of Evangelion.” The movie is a lot of things, obviously, but, after the events of this year and looking back on the more depressing parts of my life, I feel this film is about the tempting nature of oblivion. Giving up when things are clearly beyond your control so you can get that sweet but twisted, fleeting sense of freedom from it all.

Director Hideaki Anno didn’t feel too entirely different about the state of life when he made this series and certainly by the time he made “End” he was in a very dark place.

So, quick history lesson, “Neon Genesis Evangelion” debuted in 1994 and quickly became a classic among fans of anime and the giant mech vs monster genre. Critics loved it for its exploration of mental health and depression and of course plenty enjoyed the hell out of it for its giant monster/robot escapism as well. Fast forward to the conclusion of the series, critics and fans especially are far more polarized. I won’t try to explain exactly what happens in the ending and frankly I don’t think anyone can, but that confusion led to quite a bit of outcry by the fans.

Hideaki Anno, the series’ director, received tons of hate mail and death threats following the series conclusion. The fans hated how abstract it was, how it had an undecisive ending and chose to dive into the mind of Shinji instead of conclusively describing the events of the Third Impact with plenty going as far as to say he had “ruined” his own series for them. This made him unfortunately quite depressed himself over the ending he felt creatively fairly content with.

(I think it should be clear who Shinji is mostly likely a stand-in for in this anime...)

The fan reaction was toxic to say the least and all too familiar for many creatives who didn’t adequately satisfy the insatiable vapid needs of their fandom. Anno did not take this well to put it lightly. A man who was known as a delinquent in high school and expelled from the Osaka University of Arts much earlier in his life, and dealt plenty with his own bouts of depression, Anno had plenty of his own demons to sort out and quite clearly wanted to explore that mental state in “Neon Genesis Evangelion.”

I’ll be honest and say that I myself was not fond of the ending either when I watched it the first time as a freshman in college, and even went as far as to describe it as everything that was wrong with anime to friends in the years that followed for a while. I felt it was confusing and “fake deep,” existential for no reason other than because it just wanted to and people were “dumb” if they liked it.

When I rewatched it again as a much older adult when it came on Netflix last year, I found it much more fascinating and interesting. A sort of abstract introspective into the mind of a troubled teenager, who I had written off many years prior as a “whiny baby.” Though I wouldn’t say I completely understand it still, I get it much more now and I think it has a lot to say about depression and mental health.

Unfortunately, most fans did not have that reaction back then and as a result Anno made his true conclusion “End of Evangelion” as a response to that negativity.

(You’re welcome, nerds.)

As mentioned before, “End of Evangelion” is an extremely nihilistic film that seems to one up each dark moment as you traverse its spiraling narrative. It’s a film where things never get better. If you go into it blind expecting that big last minute heroic save the day moment, it’s always teased and never comes. Things just end very badly for everyone. Nobody gets a “happy ending.”

While the ending to the original series is strange for sure, it does end on a light note that can be interpreted in a number of different ways but ultimately positive. With the way fans reacted to it Anno decided to write a big “fuck you” to them by, in many ways, smashing his toys so no one could play with them again. He even went as far as to splice in the actual hate mail he received into the movie to quite clearly show to the audience, as their favorite characters met their grissly ends, that this was their fault.

(“Gee, I wonder what that was all about.” ~ a fan walking out of the theater back in 1997.)

In a way though, Anno created something strangely beautiful from that reaction. “End of Evangelion” is about giving up in some ways and accepting our inevitable doom. There are no easy answers, no workable solutions to achieve a happy ending because sometimes in life there isn’t one. Despite last ditch efforts by Misato, Shinji, and the crew of NERV the world still ends through the Third Impact. But tonally it’s not quite pessimistic; it’s actually positive, in a very twisted sense of course.

Set to the song “Komm Susser Tod” by ARIANNE, the film’s apocalypse can almost be described as a celebration. With people “popping” and turning into the primordial soup they all largely have smiles on their faces as they kind of get what they want whether it’s a desire to reunite with loved ones, to be with people they have crushes on, or happiness that they have sought for so long in the embrace of others. Everyone’s depressed! But now they are happy because it’s finally all over, they don’t have to give a shit anymore.

As the planet lights up like a Christmas tree, there are images of suicide and death that rapidly cross the screen in the form of the Angel’s final transformation but again, nobody is truly sad about it. They all have some kind of twisted smile or joy that they get from it. It’s a shocking film, if you’re not already prepared for what’s going to happen, and provocative to say the least.

youtube

(Can’t decide if I recommend watching this high or not...)

I had no idea what any of it meant at the time when I watched it several years ago (I watched it well after I had seen the original series), and to be fair there are many ways fans have interpreted what exactly took place in the film and have debated endlessly on its meaning for decades now. But at least in my interpretation, after everything we’ve been through this year, “End of Evangelion” to me is about the sweet release of not giving a fuck anymore.

Whether it’s about Anno feeling that way about his own life or the expectations of his fans or both, the film quite clearly doesn’t care about what people may or may not have wanted for Shinji and the NGE characters and is perfectly fine with the way it all comes “tumbling down.”

(He just wants to be with his boyfriend, guys.)

This past July 4th, city fireworks shows were prohibited in my area because they wanted to limit mass gatherings due to COVID but this didn’t stop people from buying plenty of their own to fire off. In what amounted to a collective “fuck you” to everything and 2020, beginning pretty much exactly at dusk people started firing off their at home lightshows like they were mortar gunners in World War I and did not let up until well past midnight. The entire Southern California night sky was lit up not to unlike the thousands of crosses that filled the screen during the Third Impact of “End of Evangelion” and though it could certainly be interpreted as a moment of people patriotically going “Yea, America!” that night, my head canon was much different. It felt like tens of thousands of people across the region just saying “Fuck it” into the night sky at everything; COVID, our horrendous government, police violence, pending World Wars, environmental disaster, and our collective impending doom from it all.

As these fireworks hit their zenith around 9pm I broke out my phone and started playing “Komm Susser Tod” from the movie and it felt perfect. Everyone just wanted to feel that freedom in the moment, that freedom of not giving a damn anymore. To be removed from expectations, from control, from hatred, from pain and it was kind of beautiful in a sick way.

And that’s what “End of Evangelion” feels like to me now; kind of beautiful in a sick way.

(Not saying the LA skyline looked like this exactly but it felt like it haha...)

There are still many ways to interpret Hideaki Anno’s cult classic, and it’s part of its charm but I think the take away fans should have is definitely not that suicide is ok but that we get it. We understand why people have those feelings and why it feels freeing to desire the void and oblivion. It’s a pity that the series most toxic fans didn’t get that clue through the original finale but Anno, not a person who likes being shoved around, clearly created perhaps the most twistedly beautiful “fuck you” to that in anime history.

As we enter 2021 all I can say is it’s ok to feel like this, it’s ok to desire freedom from the relentless gloom and doom of the world and people’s prying expectations of what they think you “should” be. No one blames you. At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to survive the apocalypse we have zero control over, so the least we can do is be a bit nicer and considerate of one another.

At least it’ll make the Third Impact more pleasant whenever it eventually comes...

Happy New Year, everyone!

Congratulations on surviving 2020! Have fun in 2021...

#neon genesis evangelion #end of evangelion #evangelion #hideaki anno #anime #japan #90s #vintage anime #2020 #apocalypse #covid #mental health #depression #sadness #horror #shinji #covid19 #quarantine

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forestwater87 · 4 years ago

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I'm screaming. I just realized this was the legendary Forest Water from Ao3, the creator of the fandom last names Santos and Greenwood, and I didn't know all this time?! What?! I can't actually believe it. Your stuff is legendary! I really enjoy your fanfiction, and you're a great creator. Any advice for a fanfic writer who starts to write a Gwenvid longfic? Any tips on how to become a sucessful fandom memeber? Sorry this is so long, I just really enjoy your work!

These two happened to dovetail really nicely, so I wanted to respond to them in a single (very long) post. I’ve talked a little about getting started writing in the past, but specifically about writing Gwenvid? That’s a little different, and interesting to explore.

I think, anyway. But I always find Gwenvid interesting.

1. Thank you!

I don’t consider myself especially famous or special -- certainly not anymore, when my updates to my flagship fic are annual at best -- so it’s a little weird that there are people looking at me like that. However, it’s also really touching and encouraging, so I’m at a loss for words. Not sure how to respond to such kind comments, so . . . you know, thanks.

2. Writing Gwenvid -- especially longfic

Here’s the thing: There isn’t a single fic I’ve written that I expected to become long. The first “Tigger & Eeyore” was supposed to be like 5 chapters and then ballooned into 14 and a sequel (which it’s now looking like is going to explode into its own sequel, so yikes).

There’s a reason they’re called plotbunnies: they multiply like crazy. So if you have a single-shot idea or shortfic that you’re not sure will have legs, just start writing it. It might end up wrapping up rather quickly and you can move on to the next idea without it hanging over your head, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes something much larger totally organically.

Also, keep your plots kind of . . . vague? At least, in my experience I’ve found that helps. A generic idea of the world you want to build and a couple set pieces (i.e., major conflicts or story beats) gives you room to play around without pressure to make it “add up to” something. I’ve never written a fic that had a story in the first 4-5 chapters, and that’s how I like it. It’ll . . . just sort of materialize, while you’re exploring the world.

I mean, if you want to write a tightly-paced epic with a twisty, intricate plot, then you’re going to want to find an author who does that sort of thing. My stories tend to be a lot more meandering.

OH! Also get really flowery with your language. Eats up word counts like Wheaties.

Okay, but Gwenvid specifically: if you want to be mostly canon-compliant, the big thing is that we only see them in the context of this one improbably long summer. There are years of story before and after that point that we’ll never get to see, and I think it’s really interesting. (Especially the before part; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone write a “prequel” to Camp Camp, but how fun is that idea???) When it comes to “fill in the blanks” fanfic writing, it’s really nice to have a story, relationship, and world with so many blanks. There’s a lot you can do just by writing about what they’re up to the rest of the year.

As for AUs: go nuts. Fucking go wild, you funky lil person. Groundhog Day. Ghostbusters. Lost in Translation. Movies that don’t star Bill Murray, probably. Find a straight couple and make them Gwenvid, and go goddamn bonkers with the possibilities. Find a world with Gwenvid-like characters and make them Gwenvid. The possibilities are literally endless.

3. Fandom engagement and being a BNF

Huh. Not sure where to go with this one.

Like I said, I don’t consider myself much of a BNF (that’s “big-name fan,” for those of you who might have a life outside of tumblr) -- certainly not anymore. And honestly, becoming “popular” in this economy fandom isn’t . . . necessarily going to be super easy.

I mean, don’t get me wrong! The fandom isn’t dead by any means; people are still writing, and still being read. But if you look at the track record over time:

Average kudos counts of Forestwater’s fics by year:

2016: 574

2017: 277

2018: 79

2019: 60

2020: 50

(if you ever wondered why I had a serious emotional crisis about the quality of my writing and general popularity in 2018 and 2019, that drop should tell you a lot)

Now, some of this is certainly my fault. The most important thing when it comes to fandom success is engagement: the more you write, the more attention you’re going to get. If you can stick to a regular update schedule, you’re going to be on the front page and in the top of the tags, and people will see your stuff and be more likely to read it. And attention is self-generating, because the more kudos and hits you have, the more people are going to check out your work just to see what the big deal is. So getting laid off and deeply depressed, then not updating at a time when the fandom was already beginning a pretty steady downward trajectory anyway . . . was not my best move in terms of relevance.

And engagement doesn’t necessarily have to mean updates, by the way! (Though you should update regularly if you want the attention.) Sharing headcanons, answering asks, starting fandom drama and ship wars . . . that’s all the kind of thing that establishes you as an authority; even if people think you’re wrong, they’ll think you’re someone whose opinion is worth disagreeing with, if they see you mouthing off in the tags enough.

I’m not confident this is a good call, but Snowqueens Icedragon didn’t get massive fandom success by not starting flame wars, is all I’m saying.

If you have the spoons to answer questions, people will want to ask them. No one wants to talk to someone who won’t reply to them. The most popular artists and authors are always going to be the ones who interact with the fandom the most. Higher output, more attention, more praise. I’m not saying it’s fair -- in fact, it very well might not be -- but that’s the nature of the beast.

Also, play to the fandom. Camp Camp fans want to see dadvid. They want to see dan/vid. They want to see Max-centric content, and they probably want it to be angsty. They want to see self-inserts dating David. If you can give them some of that stuff (none of which is inherently bad, to be clear, nor is it inherently good; it’s just what’s popular, and tbh if you can cram it all in one fic that’d be amazing), you have the benefit of giving people exactly what they want.

To be clear, don’t write about things that don’t inspire you; aside from it being a soul-crushing endeavor, it’s noticeable when someone’s heart just isn’t in it, and it’s even harder to keep those regular updates. But if the things you’re passionate about happen to be the things the fandom really wants to see at the moment, then you’re much closer to riding the kudos train, my friendo.

But here’s the thing: even if you do everything right, you might still get screwed.

Some of this is just due to the fact that Camp Camp is always a dead fandom in the off-seasons, and we don’t know how long this current off-season is going to last. Hell, we don’t have to look at me for this:

This is “How to Foster an Asshole” by emiartse. It’s one of the fandom’s most popular fics, with a whopping 962 kudos. Hot damn, look at that engagement. That’s a fucking fic right there!

This is the sequel, which has 122 kudos. Nothing to sneeze at, to be sure -- I think we’d all be delighted to have 122 kudos -- but even the general tendency of sequels to have less attention than a series debut doesn’t entirely explain such a precipitous drop. And emiartse is doing everything right! This is dadvid! And momgwen! It’s just as well-written as the first; it’s not like we suddenly experience a decrease in quality or anything. It came right on the heels of the first one ending, and the updates have been more or less like clockwork, in keeping with the previous story.

So what changed?

Well, HTFAA was first published in 2019, right on the heels of Season 4′s finale and when fandom hype was pretty high. HTAAA was published in September 2020, during this whole “world pandemic and every political disaster all at once” thing that’s got us all fucked up -- and especially, during a period where we all knew Camp Camp wasn’t coming back for the year, and maybe not ever.

It’s . . . not a great time to be a writer for Camp Camp if your goal is popularity. I mean, it’s never a great time to be a writer if your goal is popularity -- consider the tragic difference in notes between ellohcee’s gorgeous art and their equally-excellent writing just for comparison -- but it’s especially tough now. If you really want to be a huge name in the fandom, my suggestion is to travel back in time to 2016 and establish yourself as the pioneer of something (seriously, it can be anything; there was basically nothing in the fandom at that time. Every idea was a new one).

So . . . what do we do when we can’t be popular? Maybe you don’t want to chain yourself to a strict update schedule, or write the twelve-thousandth iteration of the most popular fandom tropes, or you exist in 2021 when everything is terrible and no one cares about a web cartoon series. What happens then?

4. Do it anyway.

I know, I know -- that sounds hella cheesy. “Write because you love it, not for attention” is one of those statements that everyone rolls their eyes at, because seriously? Please. What’s even the point of sharing something you write if no one reads it?

Well . . . because you made it. Because it’s something that wouldn’t exist without you, and because even though there are such a tiny number of readers in a very small, very dead fandom -- those people still exist. And seeing what you wrote will make them happy. And if they have the spoons, they’ll let you know that you made them happy, which will make you happy.

I haven’t updated my major fic in a year -- haven’t updated any writing in several months. But what keeps me going is the excitement that my ideas bring me, and the pride I feel in watching them come to life. It’s like giving a gift to someone; I get really nervous and giddy whenever I post a sentence.

And does it suck when it feels like your present goes unappreciated? Yeah. If you write the first chapter of your awesome long-form Gwenvid fic and it gets like 5 or 3 or even zero notes, that’s a huge bummer. That hurts a lot, and it can crush your self-esteem worse than even the most vicious hate. But your fic isn’t going to just be around for the few hours or days that you’re watching the engagement. It’s going to be there, growing as you update it or just sitting happily in its tags, and someone is going to find it.

Your story is going to be someone’s favorite fic. I promise.

And hell, let’s make it my favorite fic!

If you post something -- you know what, even if you post something in a trope or ship I hate, or a fandom I’m not in, doesn’t even have to just be Camp Camp; times are hard right now and we gotta support each other -- send me the link in a personal message. (Don’t tag me, I won’t see it. I never see anything on this terrible, terrible site.) I’ll like it; I’ll give it kudos. I’ll probably even share it*, because we’re going through the lean times in this fandom. And we’re writers, so the lean times are extra lean; it’s the bone-and-dust times.

*Okay, but I reserve the right to not support someone’s work that makes me very uncomfortable. I’ll share things I don’t personally stan, but I’m not gonna platform your “why Hitler was good, actually” essay disguised as a fanfic or anything. My 6 followers deserve better.

Write something that excites you, and then tell me about it. If you need help brainstorming, tell me about that too.

I might not have the spoons to keep this up for a prolonged period of time, but I’ll do what I can and you’ll do what you can and together we’ll . . . idk, do something. I’m losing the thread of my great inspirational speech here.

Uhhhh TL;DR let’s just do the dang thing. If we fail we all fail together. Yay team!

#campcamp #fanfiction #fanfic writing #yeah i'm putting these in the main tags #i wanna start a revolution here #a small revolution #of me and my 6 followers #let's do it #also yes i'm still working on my t&e fic #it's the first week of the semester so things have been insane #writing this post was the first time i've had 20 consecutive minutes to sit down and do anything since like january 4th #ask forest #absurdly long post #sorry not sorry #campcampfanfan #no 'keep reading' mark bc this all feels Important to me #scroll away my friendos

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a-wonderingmind · 3 years ago

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Fic writer ask game

tagged by @lovelyavengers! tysm!💕💕 I’m gonna take my cue from you and put it under the cut bc it be long!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Exactly 60!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

84,951 words. Is that a lot for 5 years?

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Three! Before I found my home in the peggysous trashcan and in the Miss Fisher fandom (which, honestly, the most welcoming and friendly fandom ever!), I wrote a few of fitzsimmons fics.

4. Top five fics by kudos?

So up first we have looking over the brim, my debut in the mfmm fandom, with 157 kudos, pulling away from #2, also mfmm, work/life (off) balance, which is a fic of vaguely crack-y origins from a rewatch, having 108 kudos. Then comes hidden affections with 98 kudos, which is an aos 7x03 fic, and I just wanna make out (in my car), another mfmm fic, with 91 kudos. Finally the only peggysous fic to make the list, and I suspect only because it’s been up so long, and the other fandoms are so comparatively bigger, A Mild Panic, or that time Peggy kissed Daniel with her brand on at 87 kudos, which I had honestly forgotten about.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Yeah! People are so nice!

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably stolen affections (thwarted by time), which is a peggysous fic which is also aos s7 canon compliant, so it forced my hand rather 😅 my dubious superpower is being unable to write angst without hope at the end!

7. Do you write crossovers?

not really? I don’t like to read them, and not many of my fandoms overlap in that way; the exception to this is I stole aurora australis’ crossover for a prompt for her once - the view from the top.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

Somewhere in the depths of ff.net is an NCIS Abby/McGee fic that I abandoned after someone left a hate comment, which actually meant I abandoned fanfiction writing totally for a couple of years, but it can stay lost lolol

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, I do! I mean, *gestures vaugely in the direction of Phryne and Jack*, it just comes so easily from the source material! I also apparently fit into the stereotype of “asexual people that write good smut”.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of!

11. Ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I translated my own fic from English into German, as practice for myself.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

With my irl friend who also likes Agent Carter, yes!

13. All time fav ship?

OG peggysous babeyy

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

You see, I’m a stubborn bitch, and if I want to finish something, then I’m going to find a way to do that, so not really 😂

15. Writing strengths?

I’m really bad at estimating my own work, but I try to be good at motivations and emotions of the characters? If any of y'all have comments on what I’m specifically good at, let me know!

16. Writing weaknesses?

See above!

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

As with many things, what purpose does it serve the story to have it in that other language. So if you can’t work out what they’re saying from context, why is it there? I find translations to be clunky in fic, because there is not the same footnoting opportunities like there is in a print book, asterisks attached to translations in the end notes are a lot of work for the reader, and parentheses break the flow, so if it does nothing for the story to have them actually speaking the other language, why have it in?

It’s different if you know your audience, eg if you’re prompted and you know that person speaks the other language, but when just writing fic, your audience is pretty general, so you have to cater to the ‘lowest common denominator’, for want of a better phrase.

(apparently I have a lot of thoughts about this)

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Agent Carter, if we don’t count that Cursed™ NCIS fic… now that I’m thinking of it, there’s probably also some Jenny/Gibbs fic buried deep in the stacks of paper in my room. Never to see the light of day.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

That’s like asking me to choose between my children! I think it changes every time I publish a new fic, but at the moment it’s a toss up between for the better and Untitled Goose Fic!

no pressure tagging @glamorouspixels, @leliesblou, @historymaiden and @cuppatealove <3

#about me #fic writer tags

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buddha-in-disguise · 5 years ago

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So, I’m still ruminating over 5.17. I’m still equally grateful that Melissa directed in a truly wonderful way (although the Eve fight scene was great, I do get annoyed at an entire sink moving as a guys head hits it, as if it weighs nothing & isn’t attached to anything. I get it. It is for dramatic effect, & it’s the kind of thing that happens throughout TV & movies, but still..... However, I digress).

Melissa directed the episode fantastically well. The lighting, framing on shots, overall pace on scenes - brilliant.

Sadly though I’m coming away having watched it wanting to tear my hair out, as I have far too often this season.

‪It is more than the general thoughts I’ve already written about in my last post. It is details like Alex suddenly referring to her dad as Jeremiah. We know how angry, hurt & upset she was with the news of his death. Is this a manifestation of that? That she is so angry, she can’t bring herself to use such personal terms in calling him dad? We have no idea, because suddenly it occurred. This is the sort of detail Chyler herself usually picks up & asks to be changed, which makes me suspect it was addressed somehow in other dialogue, but was cut. Maybe that was the case, maybe it wasn’t. Who knows, but I’d love to ask Chyler about it.

I’ve said this before - season 4 ended on a high. Fans were really feeling positive in ways they hadn’t for a while. You just need to look back on SM at the time.

Listening to the premise of S5, & again people were energised. The SM energy from SDCC was the most positive I had seen since the series began!

I’m still trying to figure out how they are expecting to wrap up the convoluted mess this season has been in 2 more episodes. I am struggling to figure out how they could even do it in 3, if 5.20 was going ahead. Even if 5.19 is extended to let’s say 1.5 hours in the schedule, it still wouldn’t be enough in my opinion.

I said briefly in my last post, I get frustrated because so much filler has occurred this season. Seriously, why did we have those two Winn episodes? ‪Well, Lex got on his ship & grabbed the cube...... but nah. I got nothing! ‬

‪Oh a few references for Dreamer (but we barely see her, so ...) & reassuring Kara ref Lena (which also .... when?) ‬

‪So nope. Those could be mentioned in a hot minute elsewhere.

Oh & pushing Kara to date William (a whole other mess I hate, but that’s for a different time).

‪But hey. We got Winn back!‬ Now before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, I really am not against having Winn hop back in on occasion. However, for 2 episodes that right now offer nothing to the plot beyond those I’ve mentioned? On an already shortened season, to having two full episodes taken up with filler? Use Winn in episodes that fully pertain to the season. Not this.

I want the Danvers sister couch scenes back. I want Alex & Kelly having the discussions they did in S4 (we got more about them in S4 before they were together, than anything so far in S5 as a couple). I want J’onn to do more than flop around his Private Eye firm & use The Tower with Alex. I want Alex to be a kick ass agent, girlfriend & sister. I want Kara & Lena to make up! I want Brainy and Nia to get together again. I want Brainy & Lena to have their friendship back. I want Alex & Lena get together in a lab, or just work on cases - anything other than this stalemate we are getting. I want Kelly to be able to show her friendship with Nia & Kara & to actually get to know Lena. I want to know does she know Kara is Supergirl properly, not conjecture, (I think she does as I said in an earlier post - see photo).

All these interpersonal relationships can still also have some conflict between them, if that’s the sort of thing they want. After all, no matter how great a relationship (I include friendship in this) is, it isn’t always perfect. I’m not saying it all has to be through rose tinted spectacles. But not to the level of destruction we have seen this season.

Give us meaningful villains (like Lex in S4, not rehashed Lex in S5 that give us episodes that mirror what we already know). It isn’t as if they don’t have, oh I don’t know, a load of comics they could reference for ideas if they need them. Stop with the constant push/pull on Lena as a character, & allow her to be accepted into the friends, flaws and all, just like everyone else - including Kara!

Now - now fans are feeling flat. The loss of viewers has been incredibly sad & worrying to watch. This weeks number was - pitiful, & yet my timeline was full of fans all saying to watch because of Melissa’s debut directing. Some argue it was because of yet another hiatus, yet Batwoman didn’t slide like that on its return. The Flash (which Supergirl used to regularly keep up with on viewers) was a solid 1.2 million viewers on Tuesday.

If it hurts me as a fan to see this decline. I can’t imagine how most of the cast & crew feel. They deserve so much better.

SuperCorp fans are either a delusional minority, or causing the loss of 300k viewers (& counting) according to some, which is causing a lot of hurt & upset. I’ve seen SC fans not wanting even post on their own timelines for fear of some fans coming in to attack them for it.

I’ve had it happen to me, if I mention I ship SuperCorp (while we are at it, I ship Dansen - which is my 1st ship, then SC) and Brainia, which is especially close to me as my husband is transgender & I want representation to show that being transgender doesn’t mean you can’t have a meaningful relationship with someone. I want a Black lesbian woman to be shown as successful in her private & professional live.

The thing is, these ratings drop aren’t because of a minority of fans (& truthfully, whether anyone likes it or not, SC fans are the biggest in terms of fandom size). But general fans are leaving the show. Now die hard fans are starting to leave. Media outlets are increasingly critical on aspects of the show.

With the hiatus due to Covid-19 & coupled with Melissa’s pregnancy, will Supergirl survive without further erosion on viewing figures before S6 resumes? I don’t see how it can on current viewing.

The CW (or WB, but since Robert Rovner’s wife is now one of two heading up WB, I’m afraid nepotism might well be playing a part here - but I add, I have no basis on this beyond just a worry it might be happening & I truly hope it isn’t. I don’t want to imply it is happening, just that I worry it ‘might be’), need to step in and do something to save this show, because it has crashed and is burning faster than Krypton.

Having minorities on the show achieves nothing if they’re not being used properly. If those who constantly berate others with racist, homophobic & misogynist posts, who feel emboldened and comfortable saying all those things, because of validation from someone on the show, then it is a problem.

This post could go on into reams of reasons why I feel so disappointed with the show as a whole at the moment.

I genuinely wish more for the actors and crew. I feel sad that Melissa’s debut as a director landed the worst ratings demo all season. I absolutely hate that occurred in fact. I genuinely don’t want to be writing posts like this. There have been good (occasional great episodes) this season, but simply not enough. Maybe 25% off the top of my head fall into that category for me, with the other 75% either entirely unforgettable or so frustrating as a viewer I want to scream; whereas it should be the other way around, & good enough that for the odd episodes you might not enjoy much or at all, you forgive them because the rest are good enough to compensate.

I’m hoping we get something exciting enough to keep interest for S6. Will we? We won’t have long to wait & find out.

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capsized-heart · 5 years ago

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Lady Liberty and The Captain / Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (1940′s Brooklyn AU)

Summary: You are a rising young star and the newest breakout actress in Hollywood’s Golden Age! When war finally descends on the west, your reputation as America’s Sweetheart finds you cast in a promotional picture alongside Captain America himself.

Yet, he looks eerily familiar, like your Stevie from childhood…

Word count: 4.7k+

Warnings: fluff!!

A/N: hello, everyone!!!! I hope you’re staying home, warm, and safe during these crazy times. I’ve been snuggling with my doggie and continuing with my university’s online classes in my final semester..absolutely crazy how things are rn. I hope this new story can help brighten up your day just a little bit.

First of all, I just want to say thank you💖💛for all the love that old and new readers alike have shown this blog recently. I’ve been writing on this platform for a little less than a year and I never thought l’incendie would blow up as much as it has. You guys are amazing. I’m really excited and eager to share new pieces and hope you enjoy the content I have coming! Please don’t hesitate to pop in and say hi, or shoot me a message. I’ve really enjoyed connecting with readers and would love to know your thoughts on my fics, or just to talk about fandom stuff! Timmy included! PAHAHA

So, this chapter is gonna be a part of a mini-series for a 1940′s writing challenge and I’m using the prompt of wartime romance! This will probably be split into two or three parts and I will tag the host as soon as the last chapter goes up, I’ll most likely make a masterlist in the end as well. Reader has a name in this fic, but hopefully the choice of name will make sense later on :D

As always, feel free to drop a ask/message if you’d like a tag in the next update.

ENJOY!

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Film: ‘Apple of Discord’, Lola Swanson’s Dazzling Debut!

By NICHOLAS WATTS September 1, 1943

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The film drama from the original screenplay written and directed by Andrew Campbell opened to a roar of applause and acclaim at the Radio City Music Hall yesterday evening. Apple of Discord is a reimagining of the myth and Plato’s allegory, focusing on the tumultuous, profoundly elegant life of a young noblewoman during the Trojan wars.

The film’s frontrunner and leading lady is Hollywood newcomer, young and fresh-faced Lola Swanson. Swanson’s performance is so thoughtful, so unfaltering, so intelligent and controlled that it is hard to believe this is little Lola’s long awaited motion picture debut. And what a debut this is!

Starring opposite Hollywood veterans Sean Schultz, Kash Dennis, and Gracie Smith, this star-studded cast packs punches and sizzling chemistry and yet, Swanson does not fizzle out but confidently holds her own, demanding your attention in every scene, and rightfully so. Watching Swanson in this picture is watching a major actress in the making.

Born and raised in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen before moving to Brooklyn to pursue acting, some may recognize Lola from her daytime television roles in Insanity and Passion, It’s a Date! and as Jessica in Jessica Davis Returns.

Now we know these roles were preparing Swanson for the debut of the decade.

“APPLE OF DISCORD” is now showing at the Radio City Music Hall and Cinema 2. Tickets at 25 cents. Running time: 139 minutes.

★★★★☆

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APPLE OF DISCORD, written and directed by Andrew Campbell; director of photography, Laszlo Kovacs; edited by John Wright; music by John Barry; released by Universal Pictures.

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The newspaper trembles hard between your fingers, threatening to tear its edges. Pulse pounding, ears ringing. You can’t stop smiling. You feel like crying.

You reread the words again and again, the words written by legendary film critic Nicholas Watts, the man you’ve only dreamed of making an impression on, that he’d someday see you in a picture. And here he’s written a glowing review of your major motion picture debut.

You erupt in a fit of giggles and screams, twirling around the small space of your apartment in a swirl of nightgown, pinned curls. A neighbor, Mr. Krisinski, you think, pounds on your wall to shut you up.

It’s still early morning and you had gone downstairs at first light to buy a paper from a newsboy. Outside your window, the streets of New York already yawn and bustle with morning commute. The movement of people, gleaming automobiles against the red brick buildings and muted gray of Manhattan. Warm sun washes over it all, your heart brimming and full, mirroring the glow of golden dawn.

You feel on top of the world. Maybe you’ll finally make it here.

Your phone rings. You rush over to the mint blue rotary telephone on your bedside table, snatch up the receiver before Mr. Krisinski can break down your door with all the racket you’re making.

“Hello?” You say into the mouthpiece, cradling it between your hands. You feel breathless, high strung and buzzing, like you’d just downed a whole case of Coca-Cola, whirring with the taste of sugar and success, bubbling with starpower. Maybe it’s Kash or Gracie calling to congratulate you. Hell, maybe even President Roosevelt.

“Lola! It’s me. Have you read the paper?” The cool voice of Peggy asks you through the receiver. You quietly laugh at your own fantastical expectations. Of course it’s Peggy. Punctual, collected Peggy.

Peggy Carter is your talent agent and manager at MGM. Peggy had snatched you up while you had been working as a background actress on Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca, so hopeful and beholden just to be in the presence of such respected artists, willing to stay the extra hours even after the other girls had gone home when realizing they wouldn’t be seen in the shot. It hadn’t been your first time on a hot set, you were used to the itchy costumes, long hours of endless waiting, and the empty stomachs, but no way you were going to miss a chance to see Ingrid Bergman and Madeleine LeBeau up close.

Back then, only a few years ago yet a lifetime away it seems, Peggy had been a casting assistant, seeing your dedication and marching right up to you between takes to hand you her card. On the back, written in smooth blue ink, a time the next morning for an audition at MGM Studios in downtown New York. Eight o'clock sharp.

You didn’t sleep at all that night after you wrapped.

She’s worked at getting you into audition rooms and meetings for years, pushing you onto writers, production assistants, riggers, directors. She had secured you an audition with Andrew Campbell after “accidentally” leaving your headshot in his mailroom and later calling his assistant with threats of stolen property. MGM’s new fresh face had been penciled in for a side read the following week.

Fierce, ingenious, and your own bright star, you’ve risen through the ranks and fought your way up with Peggy at your side.

“Yeah, Peg. I have it here in front of me. This is...absolutely nuts.”

“Not really, you were brilliant in the picture, darling. But it’s a comfort to know Watts has finally replaced that cotton in his brain with some sense.”

Another laugh from you, twirling the telephone cord around your finger.

“Let me have this one, Peg.”

“If you insist.”

You hear the rustling of newspaper from the other end. You can practically see Peggy sitting at her desk, perusing the paper over a morning cup of coffee, her hair curled, makeup and nails all scarlet red and perfect. The golden placard glittering on the frosted glass of the door.

Margaret Carter, Casting Director.

“I’m calling to tell you about an offer we received this morning from Paramount. I think you should take it.”

That rush of giddiness burns bright again in your veins, pulse skyrocketing.

“Paramount? Geez, what did they say?”

“They want you for a promotional picture that’s being produced by Senator Brandt. Brandt is hoping to boost the homefront’s war bond sales with a little starpower from you and from Captain America. You’ve seen his posters, haven’t you? That costumed bloke?”

You have. Plastered everywhere and looking like an absolute buffoon. Nice physique, though.

The disappointment that settles in your stomach is ugly and cold, like a fruitless pit, hard, rough, a sour taste in your mouth. It’s stupidly childish, yet your own expectations for your first movie, first box office hit, for that very first taste of the promised fame and fortune of success, begin to blink out. Expectations you’ve held on to since you were a little girl, since you realized this is the type of work you want to do for the rest of your life.

You’ve managed to impress Nicholas Watts, the most cynical film critic in all of Hollywood, and this is your big break? A Paramount picture featuring you and a tights-wearing mascot?

Peggy is practically asking you to star alongside Mickey Mouse.

“Is that all they offered?” You respond. You wince at the demanding, ungrateful tone. Afterall, showbiz has hardened you to go after what you want, to take and take because this lifestyle does not guarantee anything. You’re told no more than you are yes, the constant rejection having molded you into a diamond tough girl, glitzy and solid, unbreakable, beautiful.

But how many girls would kill to be in your place?

“The only sensible deal. They also offered you the role of Violet for It’s a Wonderful Life, and Ruthie in The Grapes of Wrath.”

“What?! Peggy, contract me for those instead!”

“Well, I’m not going to. And you listen well as to why.”

You twist your lips together. Peggy’s voice filters clipped and disapproving through the phone line, the way she always gets before she offers you damned good advice.

“Not just Watts is impressed with your work, Lola. You’re finally turning heads and for all good reasons. Anyone can get in front of a camera if they have the right look. But you’ve shown them that you have the look and the raw talent. Critics are saying you’re rivaling Judy Garland, darling. And you’re telling me you want the part of a lousy love interest? A secondary daughter? All because the pictures have big names behind them and people may go see it?

“No,” you mumble.

“No is right. You know better than anyone that people expect young stars to burn out fast so they can take their place. It’s all business. If I put you in for those roles, we’d be playing right into their hand. We’d use up all your potential in one summer. The public would get sick of seeing your face in every big picture. We have to earn their affection, darling. It’s slow and tame and not always glamorous, but this deal is smart.”

You listen, silently.

“Morale is low. War is when people turn to familiar pastimes and simple pleasures. To treat themselves, to take their minds off all the grizzly headlines. Captain America embodies all of that and more. If we take this, I promise you, Lola, that people will remember you as the girl who got them through the darkest times. This will do wonders for your career years down the line. And then, if you still want to play Violet, I’ll phone Frank Capra myself.”

You close your eyes and draw in a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Wonderful. I’ll phone Paramount now. We’ll be in touch.”

Growing up with poor Irish immigrants for parents, the rare moments you could afford to splurge on luxuries, you spent them at local cinemas and theaters with your brother. Any day was a good one when you and Samuel bought tickets for a noon screening, the cheapest showing of the day, scraping together pocket change to split a popcorn if you were feeling extra special.

And reclining in a nearly empty theater with refreshments and goodies between the two of you, you’d watch the silver screen with hope in your mouth and stars in your eyes. In here, it no longer mattered how little money you had, or the discrimination your family faced, or the war in Europe, or the meager apartment you’d go home to, lucky if the electricity and heating had been paid for. In here, nothing else mattered but the visual stories.

And you realized that you wanted to help tell them. You wanted to be in front of the cameras, to embody characters and personas and let audiences worldwide empathize and identify with your performances.

You’ve loved playing make-believe since you were a little girl, having never really grown out of it. You could do it, you think. Dangerous dreams, perhaps, but what child doesn’t hold this wish within them? To see their name in lights and to be admired and commended, but most of all, to provide for their family?

How hard could it be?

At sixteen, you land your first speaking role. It’s pathetic. You’re working on set as background, per usual, only this time, the director picks you out from the crowd and gives you the line of, “Good morning, sir.” You’re to look off camera as the actor playing Kent entered the scene and you would then say your line.

You’re stupidly excited. Three simple words. You’ll be uncredited, of course, but your face would finally be seen! With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the scene resets, Kent takes his mark, the cameras roll, and you deliver.

The scene is cut from the final reel.

You pound the pavement. You scour newspapers and flyers for casting calls, you phone agencies and playhouses, you save up to get your picture taken on glossy photo paper. You keep looking. You keep working in background until you can land a steady role.

Then, you finally get one. A miniscule part of a friendly neighborhood girl on a TV drama for CBS. You only have mere minutes of screen time, but the checks that arrive in the mail from Columbia Broadcasting System after your first few episodes air say otherwise.

You open a savings account. You plant your paychecks and watch them grow into a comfortable sum of money. You land another guest starring role for a daytime soap, the secretary of the title character. Combined with your parents’ salaries from your mother’s sewing and your father’s work on the railroads, you become the main breadwinner.

You move your family out of Hell’s Kitchen, out of your cramped, dark apartment. You sign a new lease under your new stage name and move to Brooklyn together.

Brooklyn is slightly cleaner, but the familiar hustle and bustle, the noise of shopkeepers and dialects and children and cars is comforting, grounds you in your roots. When your CBS drama wraps months later with your last check in the mail and you’re looking for your next gig, your brother works odd jobs to help shoulder the burden. Brick laying, chimney sweeping, milk and mail delivering, Samuel becomes no stranger to any and all work, so long as it pays. You become a typist on the side as you wait for auditions and callbacks.

Samuel tells you his aspirations to be a poet, a writer. He hasn’t said a word to your parents, but he shows you the small bound notebook he carries with him, leafing through pages of prose and verse. You encourage him to submit his work to newspapers, publishers. He gives you a shy smile, says he’ll consider it as soon as you get your motion picture debut. You shake on it. Together, your already close bond of brother and sister grows stronger as you each work to support your art.

You’re waiting for Samuel to finish his shift so you can catch a late showing of His Girl Friday, a warm September day when you first meet Bucky Barnes down at the wharfs. He’s tall, lean, and glistening with sweat when he rounds out of the warehouse with an armful of crates and nearly knocks you off the pier.

“Hey, watch it!” he snaps. His eyes flash like the water around you, blue and cold and dangerous. Brown locks curl with perspiration against his forehead, the sleeves of his workshirt rolled up over his shoulders, the exposed skin of his throat and arms flushed and tan.

Embarrassed, you try to steady him, to which he growls in annoyance and spins out of your reach. He makes a great show of bearing the weight himself, grumbling as he sets down his load. You don’t miss the way the muscles in his back flex and dip. It isn’t until he slowly stands back up, wiping his palms on his khakis, that you get a good look at each other.

The hostility in his eyes softens ever so slightly, simmering into a look that cinches your chest tight when his gaze travels shamelessly up from your kitten heels to the curves of your lips and cheek. His breathing is still labored as he surveys you and you can feel heat and color blooming against your skin. When his eyes finally settle on your face, you can’t decide whether you want to slap or kiss him.

“You lost or something, honey?” He asks with a whisper of a smile. He strolls in a lazy half-circle in front of you and moves to go back up the ramp to the warehouse. Then, he pauses and turns back to you.

“Have we met before? I swear I recognize you from somewhere.”

This delights you deliciously, that a handsome young man you’ve met by chance has seen your work. Not glamorous, acclaimed roles by any means, but recognition nonetheless. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress your smile and give him a coy, bashful flutter of your eyelashes.

“If that were the case, I’m sure I’d remember you.”

He grins wolfishly, pleased, and takes a step closer. “Yeah? Think you’ll let me take you out for dinner tonight?”

“She’s got plans with me, Buck.” Samuel’s voice carries across the water. Your brother emerges with wooden boxes and sets them between you and Bucky in a huff, as if he’s implementing a physical barrier, both childish and endearing. Bucky glances at you and Samuel.

“Are you two..?”

“Steady? No. She’s my sister.”

Bucky snorts and his eyes find you again, glittering in the evening light. “You never told me you had a sister, Sammy. And such a looker too..”

“Makes you wonder why I never brought her up,” retorts Samuel and gives him a playful shove, traps him briefly in a headlock. “At least Steve wouldn’t ogle.”

“Stevie would get a nose bleed and pass out.” You hear Bucky grunt back. Samuel moves as if to dump him into the drink and Bucky pinwheels, scrambling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Satisfied, Samuel releases him and socks him in the shoulder for good measure. Bucky stumbles, looking boyish and smooth despite his shirt and hair all disheveled.

You’ve seen his type in casting offices all across New York; bold, alluring, and charismatic. It’s a look and type you’ve longed to act opposite of someday, as all young starlets dream of, but a look that simultaneously sparks the feminine temptation that shivers between your breasts. You wonder if Bucky would look the same in a dark bedroom, with him on top of you and your fingers running over his back…

Bucky grins toothily when he catches you staring and shoots you a wink. None of those movie star hopefuls hold a candle now to his rugged, spirited charm.

Samuel guides you back up the pier so he can punch out his time card and the two of you can be on your way. And as you’re about to set foot on solid ground, you hear Bucky call out to you.

“What’s your name, honey?”

Samuel sighs and shakes his head. “Cripes.” He mutters to himself. Before Samuel can stop you, you laugh and turn back to the water with a fresh and girlish aire, warmth and excitement whispering through your veins, young and naive and sixteen.

“Dolores!” You give him your full name, your real name. For once, you don’t want to be Lola Sparks. You want to be your natural, honest self, the girl who deserves young love and joy and an untroubled adolescence. The sound of your voice rings clear and strong, the diva that you are, and Bucky’s mouth curves upwards.

“See you ‘round, Dot.”

Much to Samuel’s displeasure, you tail your big brother around the docks like a lost pup whenever you have time. And being a C-list actress and a part-time typist, you have plenty of it. You loiter with the excuse of bringing sack lunches, waiting on Samuel and Bucky at the edge of the warehouses. It’s lonesome and bores you to no end being all by yourself, until one afternoon when someone is already waiting at your spot by the pier.

Small, skinny as his own shadow with a fringe of blonde hair, he leans hunkered and folded within himself, timid and seemingly conscious of how he occupies space. His jacket droops over his shoulders, eyes downcast even as you approach. He has a sketchbook in his hands, concentrated as the pencil moves across the page in fast, gentle strokes. You see an impressive likeness of the piers and Bucky’s distant figure in charcoaled lines.

“That’s really something.” You say.

He jolts so hard the paper tears and he crumples it into his fist in a single motion. “Huh?” he answers. When he looks to you, you realize his eyes are a pretty shade of teal. He flushes, petrified, the tips of his ears coloring pink. You feel horrible when he goes to pocket the ball of paper.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” you breathe. Gently, you offer your palm to him. “If you’re not keeping it, do you mind if I have it?” You ask softly. A few seconds pass and he shakes his head before placing it in your hand. You unfurl the paper, carefully smooth it out as he watches you from the corner of his eye.

Shyness is a barrier of art you’ve known all too well, from your own experiences in audition rooms to your brother’s reluctance to find a publisher, you understand that sting of insecurity better than anyone. So, you let him watch you as you admire his work, let him know of his talent and let your actions speak for you. You smile and slip the drawing into your purse.

Then, his stomach grumbles audibly, almost comically loud. He folds his arms around his stomach, so tight you’re afraid he’ll snap in half. You quickly reach into one of your paper bags and hand him a sandwich wrapped in cellophane and a can of lemonade.

“Here, let’s trade.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I can’t accept..” he starts. The timbre of his voice is surprisingly gallant and sure, pleasant, sweet. You have a gut feeling that the world has been taking advantage of that kindness his whole life, scaring him away from genuine compassion, that everything must have a catch. It makes you press harder.

“I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do for sneaking up on you.” He eyes you warily and again that feeling of regret washes over you. “Consider it payment.” You smile.

Finally, he takes Samuel’s lunch from you and unwraps the sandwich. He eats quickly and quietly, draining the lemonade only minutes later. Perhaps it’s his bony statue, but you feel happy to see this stranger eat.

When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth and turns to you. His lips, pretty, pink, part as if about to speak, yet no words leave him. Instead, he stands frozen with that transfixing blue-green gaze keeping you still, lingering.

That is until a stream of brilliant scarlet red dribbles down his chin and splatters onto his dress shirt. He pinches his nose, doubling forward and his flustered complexion matching the blood spilling from his nostrils.

“You must be Steve,�� You laugh lightly and quickly hand him your handkerchief of cream yellow lace and embroidered flowers. You help steady him as he keeps his head tilted down. “Bucky’s told me all about you.”

Steve groans and presses the handkerchief to his face, blushing all the way down to his neck.

Steve returns your handkerchief days later with an embarrassed hush, carefully cleaned and laundered. It smells of lavender and clean linen and the image of him working the fabric between his thin fingers with soap and suds warms your heart.

You tell him it’s his. He blooms and keeps it neatly folded in his breast pocket.

You and Steve quickly grow close in the hours you spend together waiting on Bucky and Samuel. You pack extra lunches for him and sit by the piers chatting, skipping stones as Steve sketches the Brooklyn skyline day in and day out.

“Draw me!” you tease. “Isn’t that the request that all artists want to hear?”

But surprisingly, he does. He always draws you and Bucky and Samuel with striking, intimate familiarity. His sketchbook gradually fills with portraits and pictures of you, sketches that could put your very headshot to shame.

After their usual shifts, the four of you head to the drugstore for your ritual of sodas and sundaes. Two pairs, brother and sister and brothers by blood enjoying a rare wartime treat. With the rations on sugar, it’s a special and memorable circumstance just to be together and sharing something sweet.

It’s there, at your corner booth in Wolfe’s Pharmacy over ice cream, that Bucky opens up a paper for that night’s television network schedule and sees your name.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Dot,” he says. “What do others call you?”

Defeated, you twist your lips, hesitant to break the short spell of normalcy you’ve had with your new friends. Samuel sips at his Coke with a silent grin.

Time for the truth to come out.

“Well, ‘doll’, by Stevie,” you giggle and toe Steve’s foot under the table. Steve shyly shrinks back into his seat. “But CBS calls me Lola.”

Bucky’s jaw drops.

“Get out of here. You’re pulling my leg..”

“I absolutely am not.”

“Sammy, tell me she’s pulling my leg.”

“She’s not.”

Two pairs of brilliant blue eyes dart between you and your brother. Bucky’s face breaks into an open smile, laughing. Steve lurches forward.

“Have you ever met anyone famous?” Steve prods with a hint of that honest, innocent charm.

You wrinkle your nose sheepishly. “Mason Cook?”

“Who?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of sundae.

“Exactly.” Samuel snorts.

“Well, I’m sure he’s very talented.” Says Steve.

You swipe his maraschino cherry and let the stem dangle between your lips. “At least Stevie believes in me.”

“Dot, honey. I saw your pilot episode. If anyone’s a fan, it’s me.” Bucky feigns hurt, hand to his chest.

You stick out your bottom lip before sucking in the stem, working it into a tight knot in your mouth. “Are you still gonna be when your girl is signing autographs with John Wayne?”

You place the knotted stem on your napkin. Bucky nearly chokes.

“I better be.”

Samuel coughs. Steve giggles.

You thank your stars that your secret doesn’t change anything between Steve and Bucky. They treat you just the same; as Samuel’s baby sister who tags along with the boys. The teasing, the fleeting looks all unchanging.

Girls, you’ve unfortunately realized, are catty and mean. You’re competing for roles, after all. But with Bucky and Steve, your first taste of homecoming since moving to Brooklyn, you don’t have to worry about silly competition, or fame, or being the best in the room. They keep you level-headed, reminding you of your girlhood and life’s simple pleasures.

Bucky drives you and Steve around town in the company truck on weekends. Hopscotch and jacks on brick roads and warm nights, watching sunsets until the sky blushes peach and mango yellow at Coney Island.

A Saturday afternoon on Rockaway Beach, a vacation for you all after a draining week of work and auditions when Bucky promises to win you a stuffed bear when he sees you eyeing the one on careful display.

“Buck..Bucky, give it a rest, we can try the next one.” Steve chides.

Another plastic ring pings off the neck of a glass bottle. Bucky curses, rings his hands together and slaps another dollar onto the counter.

You and Steve trade looks. Bucky’s been at it for ten minutes. At this rate, you know you’ll be walking on the train tracks home tonight.

So, you and Steve huddle close and cheer him on. Do it for our doll! says Steve. Finish it so you’ll stop wasting money, you dolt! you cry. Hell, even the vendor finds it humorous and joins in.

And when Bucky wins that grand prize and you’re handed a teddy bear as big as Stevie, you hoist it on your back, careful to not let it touch gravel or dust as the three of you walk in line with the train tracks later that evening.

Paradise, a sheltered haven from the broken landscapes and realities that the European newsreels broadcast home in grim black and white.

True to Bucky’s word, they become your biggest supporters, helping you run lines and monologues and accompanying you to auditions. Bucky’s not bad for a scene partner, and Steve’s awareness of emotion and character motivation is impressive.

The attention you receive from casting directors and auditionees doesn’t hurt your chances either, lanky Steve and smoldering Bucky wishing you luck before stepping into the green room.

You book a drama. Then, a short film. Then another. You call them your lucky charms.

And when your humble little short film “premiers” at the corner cinema, squeezed in between an empty noon showing of a cartoon rerun, Steve and Bucky whoop and holler when your character is shown on screen. They throw popcorn and gumdrops, jostle you by the shoulders. Bucky even runs down the aisle and mimes kissing the projector screen.

“That’s our girl! That’s our Dot!”

The usher threatens to throw you out. Steve tells him you’ve paid good money for your tickets and you’ll stay and watch as long as you please.

The following week, you’re scouted by Peggy Carter.

Your world, your career will never be the same.

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