#■ Projects Manager | Mrs Naomi

[mrsfancyferrari]

Wild Imagination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You�� What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[whenyourbirdisbroken]

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/04/world/europe/paul-mccartneys-lost-bass-guitar.htm

Have You Seen Paul McCartney’s Lost Bass Guitar? Tips Welcome.

By Isabella Kwai

For decades, mystery has surrounded the fate of the missing bass that accompanied the Beatles as they rocketed to fame. A new campaign is trying to find it.

Before Beatlemania, there was the distinctive Höfner violin bass — the first guitar that Paul McCartney bought after becoming the bassist for the Beatles.

That bass can be heard on some of the band’s most famous hits, including “Love Me Do,” “She Loves You,” and “Twist and Shout.”

Mr. McCartney picked up the instrument in a Hamburg music store in 1961, and it accompanied the Fab Four as they rocketed to stunning success, becoming the most famous band in the world. But the guitar vanished eight years later.

A new campaign is seeking to find the missing instrument, and hundreds of people have responded, hoping to help solve the decades-old mystery: Where is Paul McCartney’s missing bass guitar?

“It’s a hugely significant instrument in its own right,” said Nick Wass, a semiretired consultant for Höfner, the guitar’s manufacturer, who has joined forces with two journalists to try and track the guitar down. “It’s the bass that made the Beatles.”

“The bass was absolutely at the heart of the origins of the Beatles sound,” said one of the journalists, Scott Jones, who worked for the BBC. “The smallest pieces of information can often lead to the biggest breakthroughs,” he said of their appeal for tips on its fate.

Mr. Jones’s wife, Naomi, is the other journalist behind what they are calling The Lost Bass Project.

The three Beatles fans have urged members of the public to come forwardwith any information that might help. No tip is too small, they say, and they are promising to keep sources confidential. They say they have already received several credible leads since the project was launched on Saturday.

The instrument’s treasured place in Beatles mythology is intertwined with the band’s story. After the departure of their original bassist, Stuart Sutcliffe, Mr. McCartney, who had been playing guitar, switched instruments to replace him during a residency in Hamburg in 1961. For that, he needed a new bass guitar.

“I got my Violin Bass at the Steinway shop in the town center. I remember going along and there was this bass which was quite cheap,” he said in a 1993 interview with Guitar Magazine, adding that he had not wanted to go into debt and could only afford the Höfner, 500/1 guitar at the time. It cost about £30 pounds, or $38, he recalled. “And once I bought it, I fell in love with it.”

Mr. McCartney took the guitar back to Britain, where it accompanied the Beatles through hundreds of gigs — from the band’s early concerts at the Cavern Club in Liverpool, where they were spotted by Brian Epstein, who would become their manager, to the recording of their first two albums. It was repaired in 1964, according to the team behind the new search, and then used along with other bass guitars.

But the last confirmed sighting of the instrument was in London in 1969, in video footage of the band members writing their final album, “Let It Be.” Rumors have percolated ever since about what happened to the instrument: The Lost Bass Project suggests that it could have been stolen or lost either from the basement of Abbey Road Studios, or from the Apple Corps recording studio on Savile Row.

A representative for Paul McCartney declined a request for an interview. But Mr. Wass said he understood, from previous communications with Mr. McCartney, that he was keen to be reunited with the instrument. “He calls it the ancient one,” Mr. Wass said.

Among the leads they had received, Mr. Jones said, were suggestions that the instrument could have traveled to the United States or Japan. But he added that all the leads need to be vetted. “Somewhere among that information there is going to be the answer,” he said.

Other iconic instruments have been lost and found over the years — one close example being a Gibson acoustic guitar belonging to John Lennon, which was bought in 1962 and then lost the following year. Half a century later, it re-emerged and was sold at auction in 2015 to an anonymous buyer for $2.4 million.

It is unclear what the market value of Mr. McCartney’s missing guitar would be, but the team behind the search insists that the effort is not for monetary gain, calling the guitar “priceless.”

“We just want to know where it is,” said Mr. Wass.

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

My time as a pinch hitter on my current project comes to an end next Wednesday but I’ve enjoyed the ride.

My next project is undecided at the moment but I know there are two possibilities. I’d be happy to work on either.

Lisa Respers France • CNN

Paul Reubens, who found fame as the quirky man-child character Pee-wee Herman, has died, according to an announcement on his verified social media.

I liked Mr. Reubens as the flatulent “superhero” Spleen in Mystery Men. Pure sophomoric comedy.

RIP 🪦

Naomi Nix and Will Oremus • Washington Post

Initially, the team carried just two product managers and one or two designers alongside dozens of engineers — a flatter and more coder-dominated group than most Meta product teams, Mosseri said. (At launch, it had grown to three product managers, three designers and 50 coders.) Instead of 30-minute presentations on a single design decision, typical at Facebook and Instagram, “It would be like, ‘Here are six things we need to go through this week.’”

Lean teams can often pull off amazing things if they’re extremely talented. I’d imagine this team is extremely talented. The other thing that helped them succeed was the freedom to cut to the bare minimum allowed to make a great 1.0.

Also, 50 engineers isn’t a small team. 😃

Raymond Chen • The Old New Thing

Depending on what version of Windows you have, you might see a body of water where Poland should be.

Mr. Chen has been involved with the Windows team for 30 years and has been sharing his stories on The Old New Thing for 20. He’s a real gift to us old guys who wrote Windows apps.

His title should be Microsoft Historian. 📜

Gleb Tsipursky • Fortune

Unispace found that nearly half (42%) of companies with return-to-office mandates witnessed a higher level of employee attrition than they had anticipated. And almost a third (29%) of companies enforcing office returns are struggling with recruitment. In other words, employers knew the mandates would cause some attrition, but they weren’t ready for the serious problems that would result.

This doesn’t shock me. Once you settle into a routine at home it’s really difficult to muster the desire to go back to the office. Some folks need to be in an office with other folks but other, like me, don’t need it.

I like the control I have over my environment. My desk, my chair, heck I even bought my own monitor so I could make my setup just the way I want it. Couple that with no commute and the convenience of walking up stairs to our kitchen for lunch or coffee and it’s hard to beat. 🏡

Kim Zetter • WIRED

The backdoor, known for years by vendors that sold the technology but not necessarily by customers, exists in an encryption algorithm baked into radios sold for commercial use in critical infrastructure. It’s used to transmit encrypted data and commands in pipelines, railways, the electric grid, mass transit, and freight trains. It would allow someone to snoop on communications to learn how a system works, then potentially send commands to the radios that could trigger blackouts, halt gas pipeline flows, or reroute trains.

Wow. This is a nightmare. We work really hard to make sure our code isn’t exploitable and here you have a company who intentionally made their software just that, exploitable. If you have a back door it’s an invite to every bad actor to walk right on in. 🫣

Jim ODonnell • Barn Finds

Before I could get this post completed, this 1947 Lincoln Continental cabriolet disappeared from Facebook Marketplace.

I love this car! Design in the 40’s and 50’s was beautiful. Lots of curves and fins and just plain style. Restoring a car like this would be a real honor.

Beyond the beauty of the design it sported a whopping 125 horse power from its 292 V12. 😆

Kylie Robison • Fortune

But in June, Bluesky found itself embroiled in its own controversy after a user signed up for the service with a racist handle incorporating the N-word, and had apparently been permitted to use the platform for weeks without anyone at the company seeming to object.

Bluesky seems to be attracting a lot of the folks who make Twitter so attractive to many and with that it’s also attracting the terrible people.

I miss some actors and writers from Twitter and some seem to have taken to Bluesky. But if Bluesky is going to allow racism and hate to exist on the platform then I really don’t care to use it.

Yes, I have an account but I rarely use it. I’ve found a home in Mastodon.

Joshua Sokol • The Atlantic

One dusky June evening, two days before the 2022 Pennsylvania Firefly Festival, the biologist Sarah Lower sat on a back porch, watching the sky for a specific gradation of twilight. A group of Lower’s students from Bucknell University hung around her, armed with butterfly nets and stopwatches for counting the time between firefly flashes—a way to differentiate between the multiple lightning-bug species that live here at the edge of Pennsylvania’s Allegheny National Forest.

I love fireflies! It’s one of the things I’ve come to love and look forward to here in Virginia. Little critters with butts that light up! What could be better?

I feel fortunate to be able to walk outside and watch these beautiful creatures at work. Alas, it seems they’re almost finished for the season but watching them was a real joy while it lasted.🧡

Justine Bateman • The Daily Beast

Hollywood CEOs Would Sooner Wreck an Industry Than Suffer Bruised Egos

It feels like this could get really ugly and I hope for the sake of the writers this whole mess will work itself out in their favor, but I’m not holding my breath. 😮‍💨

Lauren Forristal • TechCrunch

Warner Bros. Discovery reported its second-quarter earnings results Thursday, revealing that it dropped in 1.8 million streaming subscribers across HBO, Discovery+ and its new combined streaming service Max.

This is a real bummer. Max is my most watched service, but only from the HBO perspective. To see them combine the catalogs of Discovery and HBO feels like a bad idea. Why not have two apps with one set of credentials? 🤷🏻‍♂️

[corriganatheart]

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder Sal Singh x reader

Description: You saved Sal from his own murder.

Warning ⚠️ : Spoilers to A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

You didn’t know Sal Singh, and he didn’t know you. You were two strangers that happened to go to the same school and be in the same grade. You guys never cross paths except making casual eye contact during passing periods, lunch, study hall, gym class, and volleyball games, but never anywhere else.

It was honestly weird that you never interacted with him, seeing how he was one of the most popular and liked boys in school. Even your friends have talked to him and are friends with his friends but not you. Sometimes you wonder why everyone liked him, especially since his girlfriend is the most hated person in the school. Maybe that was why you never spoke to him because Andie Bell is his girlfriend.

You had nothing against her, but you knew she was trouble. She leaked Nat da Silva’s nudes, bullied her sister, and if you weren’t wrong, from what you've seen, she is a cheater. That made you feel bad for Sal and anyone involved in her life.

2 Days before the murder.

Y/N pov

“So, are you going to Max’s party?” Elisha asked as she tossed the ball.

“Nah, staying home,” I shrugged and tossed the ball back to her.

Elisha frowns and gives the ball to the manager.

"Come on; you've never been to one of his parties," she whines.

“Smoking weed and binge drinking isn’t my thing,” I said. “Besides, I get bad vibes from him.”

Elisha rolled her eyes at me and went to ask the other girls.

I chuckled and looked over at our student section; many people were there. Mainly the boys are here to support their girlfriends. I continued to scan the benches until my eyes landed on a familiar pair of brown eyes. It was Sals. He was here with Max Hastings and Naomi Ward, but no Andie Bell in sight. Sal must have noticed me staring at him and his friends, so he smiled, causing me to look away immediately.

1 Day before the murder.

Today was weird. It has only been the 4th period, and I have already seen enough.

It was during lunchtime when everyone was eating in the cafeteria. I stayed behind in the study hall to finish a project when I decided to get a snack from the vending machine. The vending machine happens to be right across from Mr. Ward’s classroom. So imagine my surprised face when I was trying to buy a bag of Cheetos but overheard Mr. Ward and a student talking inappropriately. At first, I thought my ear was playing tricks on me because ain’t no way Mr. Ward was like that, so I assumed it was an affair with another teacher until I saw the person walking past me. It was Andie Bell.

After that, I couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. My mind was filled with so many questions. I often overheard from Andie’s friends that she was seeing an older man behind Sal’s back, but I didn’t think he was this old and someone close to me.

I walked out of history class confused and disgusted. I hope Naomi never finds out about this. I can already tell she dislikes Andie; imagine when she finds out about the inappropriate relationship between her dad and her best friend's girlfriend, she would be embarrassed.

I was making my way to my locker when I spotted Elisha and Max Hasting flirting in front of it. Great, now I have to deal with Hasting too? Can this day get any better?

“Y/N, Max and I were just talking about you!” Elisha says when she spots me coming towards them.

“And I was just talking to myself about how he is spreading STDs on my locker!” I exclaimed.

Elisha rolls her eyes playfully, and he smirks at me. How gross.

“Max was saying you should come to his party tomorrow!” She says while eyeing Max for his attention.

“Ahum, I rather not,” I said and started putting my books back into my locker.

“Why not?” Max asked. “Give it a try,” he said and nudged my arm playfully.

I shook my head and looked behind him to see Sal and Mr. Ward talking outside his classroom.

“Hey, does Mr. Ward tutor Sal?” I asked.

Max follows my eyes and turns around to see what I am looking at before looking back at me.

“Yeah, he’s helping him get into Yale; why?” Max asked.

“Does he only do it for him?” I asked, wondering if he was helping Andie too.

“Probably, he’ll help you if you ask him… kindly,” Max said, a little too flirty with the last word.

“Oh Nah, I don’t plan on going to Yale,” I said and was about to drag Elisha away from him until Max called Sal over.

Sal looked our way and immediately had a confused look on his face wondering why I was talking to Max. Everyone knew I never showed interest in anything Max had to say.

Sal says bye to Mr. Ward, and I watch as Ward sighs, more like a relief sigh, before walking back into his classroom.

“Hey,” Sal says when he reaches us. I awkwardly stood there, fidgeting with the string of my backpack.

“Elisha, let’s go,” I immediately said, trying to avoid being seen by Andie.

Sal and Max stare at me, and I glance at Max, who is smirking.

“Leaving too soon? Aren’t you going to ask Sal about his conversation with Mr. Ward?” Max asked.

I want to slap that smirk off of his face. Something about his face shouts annoying and disgusting.

“You were asking about me?” Sal asked, his voice noticeably surprised that I mentioned him.

“Ahum, I was just asking if Mr. Ward tutors you, that’s all,” I said and grabbed Elisha’s hand, who was refusing to go with me.

“Oh yeah, he does; he’s great at it,” Sal says with an innocent smile.

I nodded without saying a word and pulled Elisha with me.

“Gotta go,” I blurted out before anyone could further the conversation and rushed off.

“I’ll see you at the party tomorrow Max!” Elisha shouts back.

“Are you going alone?” I asked Elisha.

“Yeah, since someone decided not to go with me,” Elisha whines.

She then looks at me and gives me the puppy doll's eyes.

If only I knew going there was going to change my life forever.

The Day of Andie Bell’s murder

“Omg, Y/N! You look hot!” Elisha says as soon as she sees me walk out. I chuckle, trying not to be embarrassed that Elisha’s dress was too short for me. It was also tight, but she said that was the point of the dress; to make my curves stand out.

“You promise you won’t drink a lot, right? And we need to leave by 12:00,” I warned Elisha.

She nodded and saluted me before she started checking the inside of her purse. “Oh crap, I forgot my lipstick!” Elisha shouted before holding out one finger and rushing inside her house.

I checked myself on my snap and started recording my outfit before turning the camera so that everyone could see the moonlight; it was a full moon today.

I re-watched my snap and saved it before noticing someone else in the frame. Andie?

I saw her blonde locks bouncing on her shoulder as she walked on another side of the street and typed aggressively on her phone. Is she also going to the party, but why would she walk?

I then realized what neighborhood I was in. Naomi lives in this neighborhood, meaning Mr.Ward is also around here. Don’t tell me Andie is meeting him right now; that is gross and creepy.

I contemplated following her to see if she was going there, but I also had another person to take care of tonight.

“Okay, we got to go,” Elisha says excitedly, and we get into her mom’s car.

As we were driving down the street, I grabbed my phone and secretly recorded Andie, just in case she decided to pull another trick and leak somebody’s private info.

“What are you doing?” Elisha asked, wondering why I had my phone brightness on low and recording the window.

“Just recording the moon, eyes on the road!” I said.

8 minutes later.

We reached the party, but it was a little too crowded for me. A couple of the cheerleaders and football players were there, and a couple of people I recognized from school were there. Most of the girls had a drink in their hands, but it was weird that the guys didn’t because, usually, it was the opposite.

I looked at one of the guys I recognized as Jaime; I did not expect him to be there since he was always quiet. He must have noticed me staring because his face turned red, and he immediately got occupied with his phone. I chuckle, seeing how shy he is.

“Hey, you both came!!” Max shouted when we walked into the house. I almost gagged when I smelled a mixture of alcohol and weed. Gosh, how does Max get away with this?

“Wow, Max said as he was looking at me.” I glared at him and tugged at my dress to pull it down.

“You girls dressed up just for me,” he said excitedly. “You both deserve a drink.”

Elisha giggles and drags me along to follow Max into his kitchen.

Max started mixing two cups, and I looked around the kitchen. It was a pretty decent place, not big but not small either. It was also hard not to look at the couple making out on the counter since they hardly talked in class. I guess alcohol can do things to people.

“Here, one for you and one for you,” Max said, handing us our drink.

I watch as Max smirks when he stares at our cups, and I immediately nudge Elisha, enough to the point where she loses balance and her drink tips over.

“What the heck Y/N,” Elisha whines like the baby.

“Ops, I’m so clumsy,” I chuckled and decided to pour my drink down the drain. “Since you spilled your drink, it’s only fair for me not to drink,” I said.

“Nonsense, let me make you girls another drink,” Max suggested, and while he was preoccupied with that, I dragged Elisha away from him.

“What was that for?” Elisha asked angrily.

“I think Max was trying to drug us,” I whispered.

Elisha rolls her eyes. “You read too many murder novels; he’s a good guy.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I whispered. “The look in his eyes when he handed us those drinks,” I said.

Elisha refuses to believe me. “I am going to find Max and apologize to him that my best friend is a dumbass,” she says and walks away.

I hate when she does this.

I needed some fresh air, so I walked into Max's backyard, filled with two people smoking and two couples making out in the corner. I pulled out my phone and checked the time; we still had about an hour till we got to go back home, making things worse. I went and sat down on the bench that was a little away from everyone under a big oak tree. Surprisingly no one was occupying the bench; instead, they were standing around. Probably too drunk or high to notice it.

“I am not doing this with you anymore, Andie,” I heard someone say behind me, and I knew precisely to who the voice belonged.

It sounded like he was talking behind the trees.

“No, I can’t stand the drama. We have been over for almost a month, and I hate that you still tell people we are together.”

I can feel the frustration coming out of him. It was honestly a little sad how frustrated and angry he sounded. Imagine when he finds out that she is at Mr. Ward’s house. Hopefully, soon so that he won’t have to be caught up in her lies anymore.

“I am hanging up; I am not doing this with you right now.” He said, and I heard the beep sound followed by an exhale.

I bite my lips nervously, feeling like I had just invaded his personal life. It wasn’t like it was my fault that he was talking at the spot where I happened to be. If anything, it was his fault for talking outside where there were people.

I heard his foot moving; the dry autumn leaves making crunchy noise with every step he took. I heard it stop as it was coming near me and felt a presence behind me. It wasn’t a scary presence, though. He probably won’t know it was me; he was probably annoyed that someone had heard his conversation. Most likely, he will glare at me and walk away. He might also think I am a weirdo for listening to something priv-

“Y/N?” I heard the soft, yet deep voice says.

I- ok, I guess he did recognize me?

I turned and acted surprised to see him.

“Oh, hi, Sal,” I said awkwardly.

Sal stares at me, and he looks at my outfit.

“Can I sit?” He asked, looking down at the empty spot next to me.

I nodded, and Sal sat down, taking off his leather jacket and revealing the long black sleeve he wore.

He then placed the leather jacket on my lap, covering my legs.

“You looked cold,” he said. I nodded, realizing he wasn’t staring at my body but was staring at how I was shivering.

Sal started fidgeting with his hands, and I realized he was anxious, probably wondering if I had overheard his conversation with Andie.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said while staring ahead. It was now only me, Sal, and a guy who was too high even to know he was in someone’s backyard.

“It’s not about that; I just don’t want you to think bad of me,” he says while playing with his hands.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that; I already know how Andie is,” I said and checked to see if I had gotten any message from Elisha yet.

“Still..” he sighs and leans back on the bench.

He felt terrible for Andie and their break up. I am not a therapist or someone who knows everything about a relationship, but it is obvious that Sal wasn’t happy. The constant sighs when he sees Andie being rude to others, the continual argument when she sees him talk to his female friends, and the continuous turning away when he sees Andie walking towards him are clear signs that he is in a toxic relationship.

“Sal, I don’t think anyone would judge you if you break up with Andie,” I said, trying not to overstep my line. “I don’t know her personally, but from what I have seen, I am not a massive fan of her. She bullies others for pleasure; I mean, look what she did to poor Nat.” I said, clearly still angry about the situation.

“I don’t even know if I can call what we had a relationship because all we did was argue,” he chuckles and shakes his head while looking down at the ground.

I smiled and then reached for my phone; the time was up.

“Hey, I have to go check on my friend. We are supposed to leave,” I said while standing up and handing Sal his jacket back.

Sal stood up with me, and I now noticed our height difference. We were never this close. Never close enough to know how much taller he was, but today, we were close enough for me to realize that he was tall and for once I'll admit that Andie Bell had a taste when it comes to guys.

“I’ll walk you inside,” he said, looking slightly worried. I was sure he seemed hesitant about me walking around in my dress. Maybe he noticed those guys with us in the backyard; perhaps he saw their eyes lingering too long.

“Okay,” I said and was going to hand him his jacket, but he grabbed it out of my hand and put it on my shoulder.

We walked back into the house quietly; some people had already left, but most were still on the couch taking shots and smoking weed. I noticed Sal’s nose shifted slightly in disgust when he smelled the room. That was probably why he decided to stay outside.

“Have you seen Elisha?” I asked a girl I recognize from my Biology class. She looked between Sal and me, and I knew she would spread some rumor.

“I saw her a couple of seconds ago going upstairs with Max,” she said and started to drink from her cup before I snatched it out of her and threw it on the floor.

“What the fuc-“ she didn’t get to finish because I interrupted her.

“It’s drugged; I suggest you go home,” I told her and started running upstairs, followed by Sal.

“His room is over here,” Sal said and tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Max open the door right now!”

Sal banged on the door angrily before he lost patience and kicked open the door instead.

Max was on his knees while Elisha was on the bed; passed out. I ran over to Elisha, whereas Sal dragged Max by the collar. “Are you fucken kidding me, Max!”

I hurriedly pull Elisha’s underwear back on, trying to fight back the tears. I then checked on her pulse and let out a sigh of relief. She was ok; she didn’t overdose or anything. She also wasn’t bleeding, so I wasn’t too late, but still, I need to make sure she gets checked tomorrow…just in case.

“Get off of me Sal!” Max yelled while Sal continued to punch him. I gasped when I saw Max’s bruised face. “What the fuck were you thinking!”Sal yelled and was about to throw another punch when I called his name. Sal paused and turned to look at me; he then looked at Elisha before giving Max another decent punch.

“Please, Sal, I need your help,” I mumbled, trying my best not to look at the blood coming from Max’s mouth. Sal’s face seemed to calm down when he saw how frightened I was. He walked over to me, and I looked at his bruised hands. He then hugged me and laid his head on top of mine. “I am sorry for scaring you,” he said. We stayed like that for a couple of seconds before I whispered, “Elisha.”

Sal let go of me and went over to pick up Elisha in bridle style; she shifted a little causing me to be more relieved. I give Max the dirtiest look, warning him that I wasn’t finished with him yet.

After locating Elisha’s car key, Sal placed her in the back seat and covered her bottom up with the spare blanket in her car. He then got in the passenger seat while I prepared to drive. “I am calling the cops,” Sal says as he looks up at the window to Max’s room.

We drove to my place since it was closer, and I didn’t want Elisha’s parents to be mad at her. My parents were also away for the weekend coincidentally and won’t be back till tomorrow, so we got lucky.

“Thank you, Sal,” I said as I gripped the steering wheel.

Sal watched my hand and then looked back at Elisha. “I apologize; I must have wasted your time outside,” he said, guilt written on his face. “No, it’s my fault; I should’ve stayed by her side.”

“Max,” he exhaustedly sighs and put his hands on his face. “I thought he was my friend; I wouldn’t have hung with him if I knew; I promise I am not like that, Y/N. I didn’t know he would do such a disgusting thing. I can never forgive him for this.” He says angrily.

It is obvious that Sal didn’t know anything about this, and he thought I was secretly judging him since he had been friends with Max for a while. It also surprises me how much he cares about my opinions about him. “It is not your fault Sal.” I said.

5 minutes later.

We reached my house, and it was almost 1 in the morning. We didn’t reach the curfew as planned, but Max’s beat-up face was enough. Sal called the cops on our way back to my house, and several cops passed by us. Although they might put Max in jail for drinking, I knew we needed solid evidence that he would assault girls. That will have to wait till Elisha gets up.

Sal placed Elisha on the bed and I covered her with my blanket. She was safe now… I exhaled, finally relieved that we had made it back safely to my room.

“Thank you Sal.” I said, and he nodded.

Sal then awkwardly looks around my room and stares at the numerous books on my shelves and the posters on the wall. I saw a slight smile when his eyes fell on the Attack on Titan poster. “You must love reading,” Sal says.

“I do it in my free time.”

He nodded and followed me out of my room. I turn off the light and close the door. Sal pulled out his phone and caught a glimpse of the numerous text and missed calls from Andie. I saw the 1 hour ago near the message before he turned off his phone and sighed. He looked frustrated again.

“Someone told Andie that I got in the car with you,” he said and started walking down the stairs. I followed him.

“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically. It was already hard that she stopped him from breaking things off, but now I added fuel to the fire.

“Don’t be… maybe now she’ll get the hint on why I don’t like her,” he chuckles.

I nodded and followed him outside. “I would offer to take you home, but Elisha is alone.”

“Nah, my home is a couple of blocks away,” he shrugs.

“Oh really?” I acted surprised. I didn't want him to know I had seen him outside mowing the lawn with his brother on my way back from the grocery store.

“Yeah, thanks for listening to my pep talk today,” he said and scratched the nonexisting inch on the back of his neck. “No, thank you, Sal, for helping me.”

“If you need anything tomorrow with Elisha, holler at me. I live just a few blocks down,” he said and pointed down the street.

I nodded, and he smiled at me before awkwardly waving goodbye, and I watched him jog down the street.

The Day of the Interrogating

It was all over social media. Andrea Bell was missing. There was numerous post from her friends about how sad they were and what they were doing to look for her. There were also posts about theories on her missing. Some say she ran away for attention; some say she ran away with a guy; some say she was playing a prank, and worst, some say she was murdered. According to social media, police were interviewing people who might have seen her last night, but there was still no luck finding her.

“It was that son of a bitch, Max Hasting!” Elisha frustratedly yelled as she threw her pillow across the room. I glared at her and shook my head.

“Andie wasn’t there yesterday, and Sal called the cops when we were heading back, so if she were there, the cops would’ve seen her.”

Elisha bit her lips and tried not to throw another object across her messing room. This morning, when she woke up, she was confused. When she asked me why she was in my room, I told her everything that happened last night, causing her to ball her eyes out and cuss at herself. We then went to the emergency room, where she got checked, and luckily, the nurse said she has OK and nothing had happened to her last night. The nurse then suggested we go to the cops, and we did, but now they were too busy with Andie Bell to deal with Max Hasting.

“Elisha, should we go talk to Sal?” I asked.

“Why, do you think he has something to do with this?” she asked.

Immediately, I shook my head, knowing damn well Sal was not why Andie was missing.

“It's because they usually suspect the significant others first,” I said worriedly.

“Oh, your right!” Elisha says and jumps off her bed. “Come, we need to go and stand up for him!”

I nodded and watched as Elisha put on some lipstick and fixed her outfit before spraying herself with perfume.

“What?” She asked when she caught me staring at her in disbelief.

I shook my head and dragged her out of her room.

10 minutes later

We reached Sal’s house, and there were already three police cars. Damn, they beat me to it.

I knocked on their door, and a couple of seconds later, it swung open. There stood a boy who looked like Sal but was a little shorter than him. This must be Sal’s little brother, whom I saw a couple of years ago; he was all grown now.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Is Sal home?” I asked.

The boy just stared at me and nodded.

“He’s talking to the police right now,” the boy says and looks between Elisha and me.

“Oh, do you know when they’ll be done?” I asked.

The boy shrugged but opened the door for us and gestured for us to come in. “You guys can wait for him in the living room, but my parents are here too.”

Elisha and I awkwardly walked into the living room to see two worried adults sitting anxiously on the couch. When they noticed us, they were confused but stood up to shake our hands anyways.

“We are a friend of Sal,” I said. “My name is Y/N, and this is Elisha.”

They introduced themselves as Mohan and Nisha and asked us to sit down. I watched as Sal’s brother went to sit down next to his mom and held her shaking hand.

“Sal didn't do it,” I blurted out, and they all looked over at me. I gulped and tried my best not to make things awkward.

“He was with me last night.” Ok, that came out weird.

“I meant we saw each other at Max’s Hasting’s party, and he helped me get Elisha to my house, and then I watched Sal run home,” I said and watched as Nisha's muscles relaxed.

“I know our son didn't do it, but I doubt the cops believe that,” Mohan sighed. “It makes things worse that we are foreigners.”

I nodded, knowing where they were coming from. It was more convenient for people to blame darker skin tones than lighter ones.

“I can tell the cops,” I said. “I promise I'll have Sal’s back.”

Twenty minutes later, Sal and the cops finally came out of his room. Sal was surprised to see Elisha and me sitting in his living room. Whereas the cops were glaring at us.

“Sal was with Elisha and me last night, the time you guys wrote that Andie might have been kidnapped or murdered,” I said, glancing over at Sal at the mention of murder. It was obvious that it still affected him, although they weren’t dating anymore.

“His phone shows that he was on the phone with Andie last night, and she was calling and texting him several times.” The cop says, not precisely buying my story.

“I heard them talking on the phone at Max's house, but that was not even 12. Since you looked at his phone history, you would know. And she texted him and called him one hour before he left my house, so it must be during that time when he was at my home that something happened to her.” I said. Sal seemed to be glad that I was backing him up, but still, he didn’t want me to get involved.

“And how should we know that you’re not lying?” The cops continues to push.

“Because I have prove.” I smirked and pulled out my phone. I showed them the camera footage of Sal leaving my house around 1:45, and he was running down the opposite of Andie Bell’s street.

The cops noted that, and I bit my lips, wondering if I should tell them about another thing.

“For now, you’re off the hook,” the cops glared at me before he nodded his head at Sal and walked out.

What exactly is the cops problem?

“Thank you, Y/N,” Sal said, and I sat back down and made some space for him to sit.

“Well. What I said was all true,” I shrugged.

Mr. and Mrs. Singh smiled at me, and I watched as Sal’s brother’s eyes flickered between Sal and me.

“So…” the brother smirked. “What is going on between you two?” he asked, making sure to point precisely at Sal and me and not Elisha and Sal.

“What are you talking about?” Sal asked.

“Hmm, she said you were at her house past midnight, bro,”

“It was to help my drunk ass, sorry!” Elisha blurted out.

I looked over at her, relieved that she was kind of being honest and saving my butt.

“Have you tried calling Andie again?” Nisha asked Sal. He checked his phone and shook his head. “I tried several times, but she won’t answer.”

I can tell that he is blaming himself for this. In his mind, if he didn't miss Andie’s calls, they wouldn't be in this position.

“I’m sure they’ll find her,” I said and put a hand on his shoulder.

I felt Sal’s shoulder tense up from the unannounced contact, so I immediately pulled my hands away.

“I-I should get going,” I awkwardly said and stood up with Elisha.

“I'll walk you guys out,” Sal said. “And I’ll watch you guys out,” his brother smirked.

Sal glared at his brother before smiling at Elisha and me and following us to the door.

“I thank you for backing me up,” Sal said when we reached the door. “I'll see you at school.” He smiled.

“Okay,” I nodded, and we walked out of his house.

“Damn,” Elisha sighed.

“What?” I asked.

“I thought I had a chance but never mind,” she complains.

“What do you mean?”

“He likes you.”

The Day Sal’s Murder

It was all everyone could talk about. Where is Andie Bell? Is she dead? Did she get kidnapped? No one knew. The teachers tried to get everyone to act normal and pretend that their classmate wasn’t missing, but it was hard; this was high school.

I tried my best not to stare at him, but with everything going on, I couldn’t help it. Mr. Ward was acting weird. To the rest of the students, it may look like he was worried that a student was missing, but to me, it looked like he was scared instead of worrying. But what exactly was he scared of?

I looked back at Mr. Ward when everyone was rushing out of his class; he pulled out a drink he had never drunk in the classroom. I then walked out and scanned the hallways to see if Elisha or Sal was nearby, but they weren’t in sight; it also sucks that I didn’t have Sal’s number.

1 hour before Sal’s Murder

“Have you heard?” Elisha asked as she opened a bag of potato chips.

“Heard what?” I asked.

She leans in and whispers. “Everyone thinks it is Sal.”

I looked at her, confused. “Why would they think that?”

“Because his friends told the cops that he told them to lie about their alibis,” she said.

I stared at her. Why would they do that? Sal wasn’t even with Max at the party, and Naomi was nowhere in sight.

“That’s weird.” I said.

“I know. The cops suck ass.” She shrugged.

“Have you seen Sal?” I ask. She shook her head but paused, and her eyes widened. “Oh yeah, he and Mr. Ward was heading outside before I came to the cafeteria.”

“They what?” I asked nervously.

“I don’t know,” Elisha shrugged.

“We have to follow them,” I said and immediately gathered my stuff.

“What, that’s ditching, and you never do that,” Elisha gasped.

I glared at her before dragging her with me, causing her to drop her sandwich.

“I didn't want to tell you this because I didn’t think it was my business,” I said as we rushed into my car.

I shoved my phone to Elisha, and she looked down at it.

“Is that Andie?” Elisha asked.

“Yea, I saw her the night of the party. She was walking past your house angrily, and I saw her walking in Mr. Ward’s house while we drove past.”

“I thought she and Naomi hated each other,” Elisha says.

“No idiot, she was there to see Mr. Ward because they are having an affair!” I yelled at her.

Elisha gasped. “Oh my gosh, do you think?” I nodded, knowing exactly what she was going to ask.

“Something tells me he is going to do the exact thing to Sal,” I said.

“Hurry, we have to save him!”

Elisha and I drove as fast as we could, looking for Mr. Ward’s car. We went past his house, but his car wasn't there; we drove past Sal’s house, but his car wasn't there either.

“Now, what would be a perfect place to murder someone?” Elisha asked, and I shuddered at her question.

“Omg, the forest,” I gasp and hit the pedal.

Elisha called the cops as I sped through many stop signs and lights. Thank goodness there weren’t many people on the road since everyone was either at school or work.

“Ok, the cops will meet us here.” Elisha said when we reach the forest.

“Ok, let's go,” I said and got out my baseball bat while Elisha took out her pepper spray.

We jogged in the forest, where Mr. Ward’s car was parked near. “I hope we are not too late,” Elisha says.

I nodded and continued to run. All you can hear is our breathing and the sticks we stepped on.

We were nearly out of breath when we spotted two figures. Mr. Ward sat on the ground while Sal was on the floor with a bag on his head.

“What the fuck!” Elisha yelled, and we ran to them.

Mr. Ward immediately stood up and let go of Sal’s hand.

“What are you girls doing here?” Mr. Ward asked and looked back down at Sal.

“He was trying to suffocate him,” I growled and ran to Sal to untie the bag.

“It is not what you think, please,” Mr. Ward says.

“Oh, we know exactly what we saw!” Elisha screamed at him. “You’re a disgusting pig!”

“Sal!” I scream when I feel no pulse. I started doing chest compression on him, trying not to break down.

“Why would you even think of this?!” Elisha continues to scream at him.

“I had no choice; the cops would have arrested me.” Elliot Ward cried.

“Where is Andie?” Elisha asked.

Ward didn't answer.

I continued to do CPR on Sal, and just when I thought he didn’t make it, a loud gasp came out of him.

“Sal!” I cried and pulled him into a hug.

I heard two legs start running, which I knew belonged to Elliot Ward. “Shit,” Elisha murmured before she ran after him. It wasn’t long until I heard a group of people yells, “Stand down!”

“You’re okay,” I said and wiped my tears while looking at Sal’s expression. It was a mixture of shock and scared. He was still gripping my shirt as I moved his hair out of his face.

“Y/N, I-“ he paused. There it was; I pulled him into a hug as I felt him welp. He shook badly, holding on to me tightly like I would disappear if he let go. “You're ok now,” I continue to reassure him.

A couple of minutes later, the cops and the EMS workers came to us. The cops looked at the plastic bag on the ground and the drink that Elliot Ward previously took out in class. He then looked at Sal’s shaken form.

“Sal, you need to go to the hospital, and one of the cops will go with you,” the officer said.

I looked up at the officer, and it was the exact one interviewing Sal. Maybe now he’ll believe us.

“Y/N, I need to take you to the station and interview you,” he says.

I nodded, and we stood up.

Sal looked down at me and wiped the remaining tears from my eyes, and I did the same with his.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

35 minutes later

The cops stare at me as I explain what I saw and show them the video of Andie walking into Mr. Ward’s house.

“You didn't think to show me this the other day?” he asked.

“I wanted to see if Andie was going to show up the next day because it is obvious that you guys thought it was Sal,” I shrugged.

The officer glared at me and emailed the videos to the police station.

“Elliot Ward said he didn't kill Andie but did admit to the affair.”

I was taken aback by that comment. Did they still think it was Sal?

“Isn't it obvious that he did something to Andie and was trying to pin it on Sal?” I asked.

“That is what we are going with, but he keeps denying where she is,” the officer said and shook his head.

“He’ll probably come around,” I said...questioning my own words.

After the cops interviewed me, they told me Sal was no longer a suspect, which was a massive relief because I would be on the suspect list if they kept suspecting him.

Elisha was sitting in the waiting lounge with her parents and my parents. They all ran to me when I walked out.

“Are you ok?” My mom asked as she scanned my hands for any injuries. “I’m fine, mom,” I hugged them all.

“Ugh, I can’t believe these assholes want to interview me too,” Elisha whines when one of the officer motion her to follow him.

I gave her an apologetic look, but she was obviously happy to help.

5 weeks later

“I didn’t kill Andrea Bell.”

I replayed the line again. “I didn’t kill Andrea Bell.”

I replayed the line again. “I didn’t kill Andrea Bell.”

I kept replaying his words, but It still didn’t change my mind. Of course, everyone else believed he was lying, but why didn’t I?

It has officially been five weeks since Andie has been missing. Everyone was shocked when Stanley Forbes and the Fairview Police announced that Elliot Ward, the history teacher, was the cause of Andie’s death. Every little detail, including their affair, was released. The hate train went from Sal to Elliot Ward real quick. College applications, including Yale, were quickly sent to me, Sal, and Elisha. Elisha was incredibly stunned since her GPA was low, but she was happy to be given the opportunity.

Although everyone has decided that Elliot is the murderer and has hidden her body, something didn’t sit right with me. He admitted to everything, including his plan to kill Sal, but why would he deny murdering Andie, especially since that was the reason why they gave him a harsh sentence? The judge was going to make his sentencing lighter if he admitted to it, but he still denied it. Something tells me he isn’t lying, although it bothers me that I am torturing myself with that thought.

“Y/N! Sal is here!” I heard my mom call from downstairs.

I flip my laptop and put on my sneakers. I then turned to look at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a two-piece black dress with the black leather jacket that Sal let me borrow the night of Max’s party. It fitted me like a short dress, and I have kept it since.

“Ahum isn’t that a little too short,” my dad asked when I walked down the stairs.

“Oh, come on, you know Sal isn’t like that,” my mom playfully hits my dad’s arm, and he chuckles.

“Be back no later than 11,” my mom says, kissing me on the cheeks. I gave them both a hug and walked out of the house.

Sal was waiting for me outside with a bouquet of red roses.

“Wow,” was all he said, and I chuckled.

He then gives me the flowers before kissing my forehead.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, knowing damn well my parents are eavesdropping on us.

“Thank you,” I said, and he intertwined our fingers before guiding me to his car.

The winter weather hit me when I felt the cold breeze touch my face and legs. Winter was coming fast, and time was moving extremely fast. I will graduate with my best friends soon and move to New Haven with them. Elisha is going there to study literature while Sal is going there for medical school, and I am going there for their law school. Everything will work out, and we will move past this.

“How did the interview with Yale go?” Sal asked while squeezing my hand. “I got in,” I smiled. I felt his hand relax against mine. He would’ve terminated his application if I didn’t get in with him.

“I am going to have a lawyer as my girlfriend,” he said and kissed the palm of my hands. I chuckled and looked at his neck. The scar was slowly fading away. My eyes went up a little higher, and I examined his features. He was more handsome than yesterday, but I wouldn’t tell him that. I don’t want him teasing me about it all night.

Sal stopped at a red light, and I looked out the window. We were close to Andie Bell’s and Elliot Ward’s neighborhoods. I bite my lower lips nervously and see two girls walking down the sidewalk. I recognized one of them: Naomi’s little sister, Cara Ward. She seemed ok, but she didn’t look happy either. I can’t imagine how she and Naomi felt when they were told their dad was a murderer. The whole school also treated them differently. Naomi didn’t go to school for a couple of weeks, and I heard from people that Cara was getting bullied. I don’t really know if Naomi is still friends with Sal. He mentioned that she apologized to him on behalf of her dad, and of course, he didn’t blame her, but Naomi still felt terrible. Also, after lying about her alibi, I doubt Sal wants anything to do with her, Max, Jake, and Millie.

We drove past the two girls, and I saw Cara’s friend. She looked around Cara’s age with brown hair, pale white skin, and muddy-green eyes. The girl must have noticed me too because when I looked in my side mirror, the mysterious girl was staring back at her.

We reached the restaurant, and Sal told me to stay put so he could rush over to my side to open the door for me. He was obsessed with that gesture.

“How is Ravi’s freshman year going?” I asked when we sat down.

“Oh, it’s going; he intends to slack off a little,” Sal shrugged.

“How does he feel about you moving away for college?” I asked.

“Begged me to take him,” Sal laughed. “I told him to finish high school with a good GPA first.”

“What is he wanting to do?” I question.

“Become a lawyer,” Sal said and nodded. “He said you are the reason why.”

I laughed at that. “No, he did not!”

As much as I find that comment amusing, Sal’s face didn't look amused. He was staring at me with deep eyes while rubbing my palm. Oh. I now remember five weeks ago when I rushed to see Sal in the hospital. The nurse told him that he would've died if I didn't arrive on time. I remembered Sal’s parents sobbing and thanking me for saving their son’s life. Ravi was on the other side, holding his brother’s hand. He stared at me with a thankful note written all over his face. Without a second thought, he blurted out, “I want to be you when I grow up.”

“I guess I am the reason why,” I muttered and smiled at Sal.

The waiter comes back with our drinks, and Sal starts placing our orders. I looked out the window and saw someone walking down the streets. I recognize the girl. It was Becca Bell. I examined her face; she looked healthy, normal, more normal than Cara and Naomi. Then I remembered what the police said; Becca Bell was the last to see Andie. Last to see Andie.

5 Years Later

I groaned when I heard the doorbell ringed. I checked the time, and it was 9:30 in the morning. Who in their right mind comes ringing someone’s doorbell this early on a Saturday morning? I looked over to my side; Sal was still dead asleep. He was probably tired from his 16 hours shift last night.

I put on one of Sal’s shirts, which fits me like a dress, and started walking down the stairs. I was still getting used to the new house. It was big, too big for two people, but Sal wanted a huge family, and with him being a doctor and me being a lawyer, we could afford it. Besides, the real estate was also Elisha’s dad. He was very persuasive and excited that Sal and I finally moved back to Fairview after four years of school and one year of working in New Haven. He was so excited that he showed us the best house and gave us a reasonable price so we wouldn’t want to move.

I looked at myself in the mirror and flattened my hair a little. I looked like a mess and would probably scare whoever was on the other side of the door, but it was their fault for coming this early. Maybe it was Ravi trying to convince me again that Sal and I should have our wedding in India.

I twisted my engagement ring, opened the door, and almost cussed out Ravi until I saw a girl standing before me. She had soft brown hair, pale white skin, and muddy-green eyes. She looked oddly familiar. The girl just stared at me as if her arrival was bad timing. She looked at me from head and toe, and I could assume what was going on in her head.

“I just woke up,” I said awkwardly.

She nodded, and I noticed the slight blush on her face.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.

“Are you F/N L/N?” She asked, and I nodded even though it seemed she already knew who I was.

“You are the new lawyer in town that everyone has been talking about,” she said with a smile.

“I just moved back, so I guess so” I shrugged.

“Are you the one that solved Andie Bell’s case five years ago?” she asked.

I paused to analyze the girl. Is this some prank that has been going around? Many people, particularly the ones obsessed with Andie Bell's case, were excited to have me back in town. Some of them might go a little overboard by sending a bunch of flowers or, like this one, showing up in front of my house to see if I'll be looking for the dead girl's body.

“Yea, I am that girl,” I said, and she noticed my tone changing.

She seemed satisfied with my answer, though, and smiled. “Let me introduce myself.”

I cross my arms and have my serious face on. The one that Sal never takes seriously but others would.

“My name is Pippa Fitz-Amobi, and I don't think Elliot Ward killed Andie Bell, and I think you know that, so I am here to prove that the killer is still out there.”

I froze. I did not expect that to come out of her mouth. I did not expect that to come out of anyone's mouth; I thought it was just a thought that would forever linger in my mind. But here stood this stranger who had the same thought as mine.

I thought back to a couple of months ago when I was going through my laptop to delete some stuff and landed on a file. A file I promised myself I would delete five years ago was telling me to open it. I did. Two hours later, I told Sal we should move back to Fairview since our family lives there.

I tried to convince myself that I had only moved back here to be closer to my family and Sal’s family, but deep down, I knew why I had come back. That was probably why one of my first stops was at the police station; I wanted to ask them to reopen Andie Bell’s case because I knew the thoughts would eat me up until I finished what I started. I needed it to end, but I also needed someone with the same thoughts as mine. And that person was here.

I smiled at the girl. “Nice to meet you, Pippa Fitz-Amobi; my name is F/N L/N, and you are correct. I also think the real murderer is still out there.”

[yeonchi]

Kisekae Insights #17: Angelina Ballerina

It’s about time I started the second run of Kisekae Insights after taking a break for the past few months. My objective is to hopefully cover Gokaiger, Decade and Soulbound this year, but there are some things that I need to cover before that because they are needed in order to understand certain aspects.

Like Fifi and Roary, Angelina Ballerina was implemented early on in my personal project and the characters continue to play big roles to this day. At the time, I was playing Warriors Orochi 2 on the PSP, which introduced me to the characters of the Samurai Warriors series. As a result, some of these guys got Japanese warrior names whereas the rest got Chinese warrior names.

In case you haven’t noticed, yes, I have (predominately) used the CGI-animated sequel, The Next Steps, in this project. Watching the sequel was how I got into this series a decade ago; while I have heard about the original 2D-animated series, it never really appealed to me, which is why I prefer this version over that. And look, I know there are people who don’t like the sequel for various reasons, but you are free to have your opinion as long as you respect the opinions of others. Don’t worry, characters from the original series have been implemented as well.

Setting the record straight (voice actors)

I’m putting this list before the break because this is really important. Here are the characters’ voice actors for the UK and US versions of The Next Steps:

Angelina Mouseling: Charlotte Spencer (UK/US)

Alice Nimbletoes: Rachael Louise Miller (UK)/Naomi McDonald (US)

Marco Quesillo: Louis Williams (UK)/Jules de Jongh (US)

Gracie: Charlie Cameron (UK)/Jo Wyatt (US)

Viki/Vici: Emily Dormer (UK)/Jules de Jongh (US)

AJ/AZ: Lizzie Waterworth (UK)/Larissa Murray (US)

Ms Mimi: Larissa Murray (US)

Maurice Mouseling: Simon Mattacks (UK/US)

Matilda Mouseling: Emma Tate (UK/US)

Polly Mouseling: Leah Zabari (UK/US)

Mrs Thimble: Beverly Klein (UK/US)

Alright, time to rant about the English dubs of this series. See, because the characters of this series are not credited under their voice actors, it can be hard to exactly determine who voiced who (a pain I know all too well in regards to Sea Princesses). On top of that, because there are different English voices for the US and the UK (because they don’t want American kids to end up speaking with British accents or vice versa), it can be easy to miss things or mess them up. Some US voice actors are based in the UK, which can throw things off as well.

Just as there are UK-produced children’s shows that get redubbed for the US, there are US-produced children’s shows that get redubbed for the UK (particularly on Nick Jr). In Australia, we tend to get the “original” version of the dub depending on where the show (or its source materials) originated – if it originally came from the UK, then we get the UK dub, but if it originally came from the US, we get the US dub. In the case of Angelina Ballerina, we get the UK dub and as such, I implemented the series with the assumption that the characters would speak as they did in the UK dub. As such, Marco and Gracie don’t speak in Hispanic or French accents.

Due to my initial ignorance and lack of information, I ended up crediting the characters’ US voice actors for Marco, Gracie and Ms Mimi instead of their UK voice actors. Even worse, I thought Naomi Wilkinson voiced Angelina until a friend of mine tweeted her years ago and confirmed that she didn’t voice Angelina. Also, the really funny thing is that there are people who unironically believed that Hilary Duff and Justin Bieber voiced Viki and AZ in the series. If only we all knew this one simple rule: If an actor isn’t credited in the series/episode, then they didn’t have a role in the series/episode. I did manage to work out the UK voice actors for the other characters, but why Alice’s voice actor was different in both versions despite her voice sounding similar I’ll never understand.

For some reason, I have been unable to find out who Ms Mimi’s UK voice actor is because nobody in the credits has owned up to voicing her. However, if I really had to guess, I would say that Emma Tate voiced her because even though the Scottish accent threw me off, she sounds a bit like Matilda (Angelina’s mum). As for Marco and Gracie’s UK voice actors, Louis Williams and Charlie Cameron, trying to find resumes or records of their past work has been impossible so I wasn’t able to find any proof, but I eventually did. Louis William’s LinkedIn profile mentions that he voiced Marco (he’s an English teacher in Japan now, shock of all shocks) and while Charlie Cameron doesn’t have a site or official profile of her own (why), I managed to link her roles for Dark Souls and Poppy Cat on IMDb to BTVA.

In the Moushouden Series, I ended up “recasting” Marco and Ms Mimi while keeping Gracie’s voice actor the same. Marco and Ms Mimi played major roles in my stories and I needed credits for them. “Getting” Louis Williams to “reprise” his role would have been impossible because he’s not an actor anymore, though it wouldn’t have been a big problem if I had found out earlier that he voiced Marco. Likewise, if I had managed to guess Ms Mimi’s UK voice actor earlier, then maybe I wouldn’t have needed to keep scratching my head all these years.

What’s in a name?

There has been quite a bit of speculation regarding the characters’ middle and last names, and I say “speculation” because there don’t seem to be any official sources that confirm it or the only official sources available can’t be accessed from the Wayback Archive because Adobe Flash is dead. Though the names were on the Wikipedia page at some stage, the only place where they exist now is on a poorly-maintained wiki of the series on Fandom. It is possible that Angelina and Alice’s middle and last names can be backed up because they were in the original series, but even then, I’m unable to do that due to lack of information (seriously, even the official website redirects to Mattel’s website, the absolute sellouts). So please take these names with a grain of salt:

Angelina Jeanette Mouseling

Alice Bridgette Nimbletoes

Marco Fernando Quesillo

Grace Madeleine “Gracie” le Chateau

Viktoria Andrea “Viki” Whiskerson

Adrian Zander James “A.Z.” Smithers (even though an official PDF from PBS WNET13 states that A.Z. stands for “Adam Zachariah”)

Mimi Jane Squigglytail

Maurice Rupert Mouseling

Matilda Felicity Mouseling

Polly Anne Mouseling

Harriet Cecily Thimble

Other stuff before I begin

In late 2015, there was talk of Angelina Ballerina getting relaunched in 2017 by Mattel and 9 Story Media Group. By 2017, however, nothing really came of it, or at least nothing significant that we could see. 9 Story currently have the distribution rights to both the 2D and CGI series, clips and episodes have been uploaded on the official Angelina Ballerina YouTube channel (a mix of UK and US versions, with Brazilian Portuguese and Latin American Spanish dubs on other channels) and the original books created by Katharine Holabird have been republished in the past two years.

Not seeing anything in 2017 has allowed Angelina Ballerina’s involvement in my personal project to flourish, but only time will tell whether anything else will come of this so-called relaunch. This series would probably have gone down the path of Fabio Yabu and Sea Princesses if it wasn’t so well-known all around the world.

The 9 Story pages show that there are some specials for the series. While the 2D series does have three specials, I could only find two movies in the CGI series that are fully original stories and not just episode compilations, namely The Shining Star Trophy and Dreams Do Come True. They don’t seem to be available on YouTube and the only online versions I could find use the US voices, meaning that a UK dub of these movies is unknown.

If you follow Gail Chord Schuler/Gabrielle Chana/The Church of Gail online, you might know that there is a Satanic Jesuit villain named Angelina Ballerina, depicted as a woman modelling a ballerina costume with wings. Rest assured that she is NOT the Angelina we all know and love, as Gail confirms in the comments of one of her videos (though there is a chance that trolls could have fed her that information).

All About Angelina

As I stated in #12, Maurice and the Takeda Army of Mouseland were in conflict with the Salacians before the Dimensional Merge. Because the time in their world, AB-561, was running faster compared to other worlds, they ended up on our Earth in 2009. In both timelines, Angelina and her family and friends became Hiroki and Parker’s comrades. In the first timeline, Angelina had an adventure with the Third Doctor. The second timeline is where things get detailed.

Before the Archangel Tunnel System was activated, there was no other way to get to Chipping Cheddar from Hong Kong, so when the Takeda Army were brought to this world, they had to do what they could to survive. Eventually, they ended up being controlled by another local army and used as their mascots. When Parker went to them to seek an alliance, he discovered this and helped the Takeda Army escape, which led them to pledge their allegiance to Parker.

Over the next two years, Parker and Hiroki became great friends with the Takeda Army’s officers. In 2010, Ms Mimi became disillusioned with Parker when she realised that he only seemed to care about fighting and enjoying himself on the battlefield. When the JIMPS were formed, Ms Mimi began to side with them as she saw Minnie and the others as the better strategists, but she had a newfound respect for Parker when he made peace with Minnie following their battle against each other.

When Squid Girl turns Minnie against Parker, however, Ms Mimi sides with the former again and a split occurs within the Takeda. Ms Mimi became one of the Sanada Army’s commanders while Gracie, AJ and Viki surrendered to the Sanada. Angelina was the first officer Parker found after being separated from Hiroki. Her family was being guarded by Alice and Marco before Parker arrives with reinforcements from the Date Army.

Months after Parker’s death and resurrection, the Sanada Army finally fell. Ms Mimi and the Takeda defectors rejoin their former comrades; Ms Mimi finally admits that she was a fool who never really understood Parker because she believed in loyalty and discipline.

With Parker’s army disbanded and the Flowertots returning home, the Takeda became the only close friends Hiroki had left. They supported him in his fight against Girl Power and the Teiro Army, so much so that they were willing to accept him in their ranks if he decided to leave his secondary school army. Ultimately, Hiroki declined their offer and became a ronin.

The Next Step

The Takeda Army eventually managed to resettle in Mouseland which was transported to Shizuoka Prefecture between the Archangel Tunnels to the Shikoku region and Cardiff. The Takeda Army had no significant relevance in 2013, but Angelina and her family attended Hiroki and Akari’s wedding, which was held in Chipping Cheddar (Kikugawa).

In 2014, the Takeda Army rose back to significance again as a result of events in real life (see #16). Following the Battle of Mikatagahara and Akari’s betrayal of Hiroki, Angelina joined the Doctor (again) as his companion. Later that year, Maurice would attempt another expedition to Kyōto when Girl Power forces stationed around Nagashino Castle in Nagoya would block his army’s path. When the Doctor arrives with Hiroki and Angelina, Hiroki gathers up some reinforcements before the Takeda Army splits up into three groups; one group defending the main camp, one group laying siege to the castle and one group attacking Girl Power forces stationed in nearby Shitaragahara. Despite the Takeda suffering severe casualties at the hands of the superior Girl Power army, Hiroki charges into Nagashino Castle alone and fights the enemy commanders before leaving his drones to crash into the castle keep.

Soon after, Angelina would participate in prototype testing for the Superhero Project, becoming the Pink Samurai Ranger alongside the Doctor and his other companions as they fought Girl Power in a parallel world. Following that adventure, Angelina would be summoned back by her father upon hearing word that Girl Power were preparing for an all-out siege on Yokohama. The Takeda Army allied with their old enemies, the Salacian (Uesugi) Army as they fought at Sekigahara and Ōsaka Castle. After the world was destroyed and restored, the Takeda were one of the armies that helped UNIT defend Yokohama from Girl Power.

Though Angelina stopped being the Doctor’s companion after 2014, she would regain that role again in 2017 when she and Alice officially joined the Superhero Project. Angelina and Marco make a cameo appearance in the Series 10 premiere as a couple and that’s the only time their relationship is brought up (I think that ship was hinted at in the series but not explicitly shown).

Having been selected, Angelina and Alice joined the Gokaigers as GokaiPink and GokaiGreen respectively. Their fighting styles were adapted to fit with their characters and the original Gokaiger footage; on top of predominately wielding guns, GokaiPink incorporates ballet into her fighting while GokaiGreen clumsily incorporates gymnastics which she makes up for with stealth and trickery.

As for the rest of the mouselings, they were hired by BOARD to become Kamen Riders as follows:

Kamen Rider Blade – Marco

Kamen Rider Garren – AJ

Kamen Rider Leangle – Viki

Kamen Rider Glaive – Ms Mimi

Kamen Rider Larc – Gracie

Kamen Rider Lance – Polly

Although not as significant compared to Fifi and Roary, the mouselings do play a significant role in the project. As with many obscure series I’ve encountered, finding accurate information is a daunting task. Though I have managed to find information that I haven’t been able to find in the past, there are times where I am still unable to do so, which results in me having to speculate missing information (usually by observation) that may or may not be correct. This is not so much a problem in Angelina Ballerina compared to Sea Princesses, but regardless, it’s better to have every piece of information confirmed than have even one piece of speculated information.

[missroserose]

Wednesday Reading Meme: Bathroom Grinding Edition

Sadly, "bathroom grinding" isn't half so naughty as it sounds.  Whatever the remodelers are doing downstairs, it sounds like they're vibrating the whole damn room apart.  But!  We're three days in and they've been consistently on time, our project manager has been communicative, and (to my admittedly untrained eye) they appear to be doing excellent work.  And they've been super courteous about wearing masks, too.  So really, I can't complain. What I've just finished reading Angels & Insects, by A.S. Byatt.  Confession time: I noped out about a third of the way through The Conjugial Angel.  There was some interesting cultural examination of the various social forces that gave rise to spiritualism (and the ways it allowed women of a certain age/lack of marital status to participate in society in a culturally-sanctioned way), but the farcical characters and lack of anything resembling a plot just Did Not Do It for me, especially when combined with Byatt's heavily-Victorian-esque writing style.  It didn't even have Morpho Eugenia's implied-incest subplot to add spice.   The Trouble With Peace, by Joe Abercrombie.  I forgot to write about this last week because I didn't think about audiobooks, and also because I'd been taking a bit of a break from it.  Joe Abercrombie is absolutely masterful at that style of writing where the bulk of the story involves setting up all the individual characters and their histories, connections, abilities, and motivations (overt and covert)—and then, in the third act, flicking one of the dominoes and watching everything fall.  It's satisfying as heck in the end, but can sometimes be a little long in the windup.  Still, Peace definitely fulfills its promises, and ends on that perfect kind of cliffhanger that I both kicking myself for not seeing coming and absolutely get why I didn't see it coming.  Related, I note that his major themes for this trilogy include the shifting of norms in the face of new technology, the breakdown of social institutions in the wake of increasing wealth stratification, and the dangers of fanaticism directly related to increasing polarization—definitely none of which have any resonance with current events whatsoever.  Definitely looking forward to the third book, and (at the risk of repeating myself) Steven Pacey continues to do an absolutely phenomenal job performing these books. What I'm currently reading One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich, by Aleksander Solzhenitsyn.  Straightforward almost to a fault, I'm not sure I have a whole lot to say about the story yet.  I get that it was a huge deal in its time, since it was one of the first truly honest portrayals of life in a Soviet gulag that was allowed to be published, but given that my previous exposure to Solzhenitsyn had been in the context of his more philosophical work, I guess I was expecting a little more philosophizing?  Still, there's some reflection around the edges; I note the recurring theme of "the guards are just as trapped in their roles as the prisoners are in theirs, and subject to many of the same privations", which feels very Russian.  Bureaucracy dehumanizes us all. I did note a passage in the Yevgeny Yevtushenko's foreword where he talks of Solzhenitsyn's disdainful attitude towards liberals, artists, and the intelligentsia, as none of their ideals or pretensions are of any use in the camps.  He goes on to note that without the aid of the intelligentsia, who rallied under its banner, Ivan Denisovich would likely never have been published, but appears to dismiss this as a "complicated relationship" without going much further into it.  Which struck me as more than a little odd; presumably, Solzhenitsyn had some artistic pretensions—you don't generally write a book, otherwise!—even if it was only to portray harsh realities that had been hidden from the general public.  I wonder if this is a Soviet cultural thing, wanting to prove Solzhenitsyn's bona fides at writing working-class characters by separating him out from the pretentious elites?  I should ask Ksenia about it. Gideon the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir.  I nabbed this audiobook entirely on the basis of some chatter about it in my writing group, and so far it hasn't lead me astray—I've only really listened to the first sequence and a bit of the following backstory, but I really like the two major characters we've introduced so far.  (I'm not sure you're supposed to like Harrowhawk, but given that her name is the title of the second book, I don't think you're supposed to not like her.  And I admire her absolute ruthlessness.)  I admit that I'm a little concerned about the extensive Dramatis Personae listed at the start of the book—I have a mixed track record with high fantasy/sci-fi stories with large casts that I often lose track of—but if the book can keep up the strength of Gideon's voice, that'll do a lot to keep my interest. What I plan to read next Still looking forward to Tender Morsels!  After that, it occurs to me that I have the sequel to Naomi Novik's Uprooted, which I enjoyed immensely, sitting on my to-be-read pile...we'll see! Fanfiction Spotlight ancientreader's "Riddle Me This, Mr. Holmes" is a complete delight, both in its concept and in its execution.   Watson, traveling to visit family but concerned about his friend and lover's somewhat fragile mental health, takes to sending him lines of a riddle via telegram and urchin-enacted charade each day.  It's precisely the sort of thing you could see Watson doing for Holmes (no matter how you view their relationship); understated, thoughtful, and introducing just that little bit of extra chaos into the buttoned-up detective's life.  I was completely and utterly charmed, all the more so by their banter-via-telegram once Holmes cottons on.

[cherrybloomn]

Delicate - Chapter 1

Summary:

Naomi Poesy is a TV host of the show about acting and contemporary cinema. She is living life to the fullest, but for some reason she promised herself, she will never do any relationships. Much to her surprise she befriends one of her guests. Will she keep her promise?

***

Warnings: none

-------------------------------------------------

Feb. 2020

„Naomi, our guest is having his makeup done. He will be in the studio in about five minutes, we’re on air in ten.”

„Thank you. My God, I had such a wonderful weekend! Can you imagine that Samuel Firth, the CEO of The Kellan Investments, agreed to finance my charity?? We actually went out on Saturday. I was certain he would have sent one of his employees, but no! He came himself! We went to Nobu Restaurant. We spent almost three hours talking about the charity and our legal, and psychological support. I told him about all the women and children needing our help. Apparently, he has four kids. He also gave me a wonderful idea – to build a house, where the most needed ones could temporarily live. He said the FI could provide the building to accommodate. That’s fucking awesome!”

„Sounds brilliant! You know I will always be grateful, that you helped me to move on, and that you gave me this job. I don’t know what we’d do without your help. I was such a mess. I mean it.” Sarah smiled at Naomi. „I can’t say thank you enough.” For a moment Sarah zoned out thinking about her previous life. Her husband abused her and their ten-year-old son. He even made them steal alcohol for him. She met Naomi by accident in Buddhist Centre, where Sarah was looking for help. Sarah remembered their first encounter. Despite Naomi’s petite frame, Sarah felt the great energy. Naomi invited Sarah to her charity, provided the legal and psychological care. They managed to fight the restraining order, which made Sarah feel much better and safe.

„Hey, Sarah.” Naomi approached the girl and grabbed her by the hand. „Everything is fine. It is fine. It will be fine.” Naomi gave Sarah a hug. „Now, let’s go to our guest. I’ve heard you fancy him!”

“Oh, I so do. Who doesn’t??”

“Well, sure he is handsome. But I’m definitely loyal to Leonardo DiCaprio. He’s such a great actor.”

„Not that handsome though! I hope I’ll get an autograph for me and for Tom, he’s a big Superman fan.”

„We’ll work that out”. Naomi winked at her, grabbed her notes and headed to the studio. To get there she had to use the elevator, which was at the end of the main lobby. Just after she called the elevator a man approached her.

„Excuse me” He tried not to smile at her, but obviously couldn’t. „I am Henry’s friend. I mean Henry Cavill’s friend. I’m Colin. I am such a fan of yours. I really enjoy your show very much. I so wanted to meet you. Man, you look even better in person. I mean you look wonderful on screen! But in person, you are even more beautiful. I’m sorry, I’m babbling. I know that.” He shook his head and laughed. „I will wait here for Henry. I just. I am your fan, really.”

Naomi was so amused by this situation but it felt really nice what the man had to say. „Thank you, Colin. It’s really nice to hear that. So, if you are a fan of the show, maybe you’d like to see it from the inside? Come with me!”

They both entered the elevator, which lead them to the tenth floor.

„Good evening everyone!” Naomi said rushing through the studio towards two huge sofas located in the centre side of the stage. Her guest was sitting on one of these.

„Mr Cavill, very nice to meet you.” she extended her hand. Henry immediately stood up and shook her hand.

“It’s Henry, Nice to meet you too. Confession time. I must admit I am quite nervous to be here. You can be so abrupt to your quests!” He was partly teasing of course, but not quite.

“Me abrupt?!” She exclaimed with and smirked. “Nobody has ever told me that! When have I been abrupt?”

“I remember the episode with Jesse McBell, the theatre director and how you baptized him for not knowing who Grotowski was! I so watched it yesterday, just to prepare for the worst.” He laughed.

“Oh no. I do remember that! Was that abrupt reaction, really??” She giggled. She did remember that encounter. The guy was so full of himself, there was no discussion with him – each movie Naomi asked about was “shit”, each director was a “spoiled wannabe”. Only Jesse McBell was the greatest. Naomi as a typical hot-tempered person decided to teach him a lesson. On vision. That was very unprofessional, obviously. She regretted being so harsh. It turned out though, that it was one of the most watched and liked episodes of the season. “But I tell you what. Fear not! I am a huge fan of the Witcher, so I will be gentle with you. Promise.” She gave him the sweetest smile. “Please take a seat.”

They both sat on the sofas, facing each other.

“So. Are you the game fan or the books fan?” Henry lifted his eyebrow and smiled at his host.

“Mostly books. I’ve started to play only a couple of months ago. I can’t complete one task. I just have no idea how to..” Naomi stopped talking as she heard the director’s voice in her earphone. “40 seconds to get on air.” She smiled at Henry, who obviously was a bit nervous. “No worries, today I am as gentle as a little puppy.” They both chuckled.

A few seconds later they started rolling. The interview went very well. Naomi kept her promise, but couldn’t deny herself to tease Henry a little bit about his nervousness. Henry felt almost intimidated each time she asked questions and looked at him with her piercing grey eyes. He was impressed by her knowledge about the movie industry and the acting methods. He enjoyed the form of this encounter. It was rather a conversation than a typical interview.

“So … I hope it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. I wouldn’t like to become your nightmare.” She said after they heard “cut” in their earphones.

Henry stood up so that the staff could remove his micro. “No, no. It was a real pleasure. I mean it. You have quite a big knowledge about acting methods. Have you ever tried to perform?”

“Well. Yes and no. I have a master degree in acting. I graduated drama school in London and I did a three - month course in Moscow. It was my dream once. So at school I was performing, mostly in theatres. I really enjoyed working on a role and acting in theatre. I did some movie projects but just small indie productions. The surrounding though was not for me. I mean the castings, convincing everyone that I’m prettier, slimmer, fatter, taller, smaller, better, more talented. No. That’s not for me. So, I started to work as a radio reporter. For a short time, I prepared criminal podcasts. That was so cool, I really liked that! Then I moved to the cultural news section as one of the reporters got fired and I was a drama school graduate. And then it just happened, I got the offer to work here.”

“Don’t you regret that you gave up acting?”

“I once did. For a moment. It happened when my friend was a guest of the show, she studied with me. She’s a great actress. When I interviewed her, just for a second, I felt like – oh, it could have been me. But I believe everything happens for a reason.”

Naomi didn’t even notice Colin, who approached them.

“Oh. Naomi, this is my friend Colin. He’s a real fan of yours. And the reason of my nervousness. He showed the bloody episode to me!” Henry laughed and patted his friend’s arm. “He couldn’t wait to meet you”.

“Yes, we’ve already met today.” She turned towards Colin, who was smiling shyly. “Are you from movie industry?”

Both Henry and Colin looked at each other and laughed. “God no!” Colin shook his head. “I would never agree to work in that industry, no money could convince me. Ever. I’m an accountant.”

“Oh ok.” Naomi raised her eyebrow “I’ve never been good at numbers. Unfortunately. I spend money way too easily. Afterwards I always cry.”

“Oh. So, you need a good accountant!” Colin exclaimed.

“Or a rich husband.” Henry looked at Colin and wrapped his around his friend. “But of course, a good accountant would be a much better choice!” He couldn’t believe that after all these years of friendship, teasing Colin has still been so amusing.

“Well thank you gentlemen for your wonderful advice, but I have to announce that I already had a rich husband, and it took me three years to divorce, and I do have an accountant. But to prove my appreciation for your advice, I’d like to invite you to the party held by BBN on Friday evening.” She whispered “They throw great parties.”

Henry was to thank her for an invitation, and explain that he wasn’t sure if his schedule allows him to participate, but Colin was quicker.

“But of course, we will be there! Wonderful. Thank you, Naomi.”

She chuckled lightly and looked at Henry “So, Sarah will contact your agent and provide you with all the details. I will sign you both up on the guests list, and if you can make it, you’re welcomed. It was a pleasure to meet both of you.” Naomi shook Henry’s and Colin’s hands and headed back to her office.

Before she reached the elevator, Henry, who apparently rushed after her, stopped her.

“Naomi, I’m sorry I just checked up my phone and I can’t make it to the party on Friday. I have a family meeting. I can’t let them down.”

Naomi just nodded. She felt a bit disappointed, which was strange to her. She hasn’t felt anything like that for at least two years. Ever since she got divorced, she’s become emotionally numb. It has been very hard to disappoint her, as she didn’t care for anything at all. Excluding her tv work and her charity, these two years have been filled with parties, lots of expensive trips, shopping and flirting, just for sport. “Well, it’s a pity. I thought that I’d get more brilliant advice, like the one about getting a rich husband.” She chuckled. “But of course, I do understand. No worries.”

“Yes… I have some more in stock.” He smiled. After a minute of awkward silence, he added “How about having a lunch this week? We could continue our conversation about movies and the Witcher game, as you’ve said you couldn’t complete a task.”

Two women approached them as they needed to use the elevator. Once they realized who is standing next to them, they looked at each other, at Naomi, at Henry and started giggling, which made Naomi laugh. So, after a second, all of them were laughing.

“Oh God you act as if we didn’t have famous, handsome guests in here!” Naomi rolled her eyes.

“Naomi, you obviously do have them on your tenth floor. We don’t! Sooo. Can we ask for a photo? I know it’s so lame. I feel ashamed asking, but still. Can we?” One of the women put out her phone.

“Of course!” Henry smiled at them, and posed for the photos. Afterwards, satisfied women entered the elevator, and he turned to Naomi. “So?”

“So? Oh, the lunch! Yes, sure we can catch up later this week.” She handed him her business card with the phone number. “If you’re around, just call me”.

“I certainly will! Have a good day Naomi.”

“You too. Goodbye.” She smiled at him one last time, and entered the elevator, which has just arrived.

***

[iwouldvebeendrake01]

WOMEN IN FILM

Agnieszka Holland - director, The Secret Garden (1993) Alice Waddington - director, Paradise Hills (2019) Amma Asante - director, Belle (2013), A United Kingdom (2016) Amy Heckerling - director, Look Who’s Talking (1989), Clueless (1995) Angela Workman - writer, The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Longbourn (?) Angelina Jolie - director, By the Sea (2015), First They Killed My Father (2017) Anna Boden - director, It’s Kind of a Funny Story (2010), Captain Marvel (2019) Anna Kendrick - exec. producer, Dummy (?), Love Life (?) Anne Fletcher - director, The Proposal (2009), Dumplin’ (2018) Ava DuVernay - director, Selma (2014), A Wrinkle in Time (2018) Barbara Streisand - director, Yentl (1983) Brenda Chapman - director, The Prince of Egypt (1998), Brave (2012) Brie Larson - director, Unicorn Store (2017) Bryce Dallas Howard - director, Dads (2019), The Mandalorian Ch. 4 (2019) Carey Mulligan - exec. producer, Promising Young Woman (2020) Cate Shortland - director, Lore (2012), Black Widow (2020) Cathy Yan - director, Birds of Prey (2020) Céline Sciamma - director, Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) Chanya Button - director, Vita & Virginia (2018) Charlize Theron - producer, Monster (2003), Atomic Blonde (2017), Bombshell (2019) Chloé Zhao - director, Eternals (2020) Claire McCarthy - director, Ophelia (2018), The Luminaries (?) Debbie Allen - director, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (1990), The Twilight Zone (2003) Deborah Chow - director, The Mandalorian Ch. 3, Ch. 7 (2019), Obi-Wan Series (?) Debra Granik - director, Winter’s Bone (2010) Desiree Akhavan - director, Appropriate Behavior (2014) Diablo Cody - writer, Jennifer’s Body (2009), Young Adult (2011) Dorota Kobiela - director, Loving Vincent (2017) Drew Barrymore - director, Whip It (2009) Elizabeth Banks - director, Pitch Perfect 2 (2015), Charlie’s Angels (2019) Elizabeth Olsen - exec. producer, Sorry for Your Loss (2018–) Emma Stone - exec. producer, Maniac (2018) Emma Thompson - writer, Sense and Sensibility (1995), Last Christmas (2019) Gal Gadot - producer, Wonder Woman 1984 (2020), Hedy Lamarr Mini-Series (2020–) Gillian Armstrong - director, Little Women (1994), Death Defying Acts (2007) Greta Gerwig - director, Lady Bird (2017), Little Women (2019), Barbie (?) Gurinder Chadha - director, Bride & Prejudice (2004), Blinded by the Light (2019) Jamie Babbit - director, Supergirl (2016), The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (2018) Jane Goldman - writer, Stardust (2007), X-Men: First Class (2011), Rebecca (2020) Jennifer Lee - writer, Frozen (2013), Zootopia (2016), Frozen II (2019) Jerusha Hess - writer, Napoleon Dynamite (2004), Nacho Libre (2006), Austenland (2013) Jessica Chastain - producer, I Am Jane Doe (2017), 355 (2021) Joanna Hogg - director, Unrelated (2007), Archipelago (2010), The Souvenir (2019) Josie Rourke - director, Coriolanus (2014), Mary Queen of Scots (2018) Julia Ducournau - director, Raw (2016), Titane (2020) Julie Taymor - director, Frida (2002), Across the Universe (2007), The Glorias (2020) Karen Gillan - director, The Party’s Just Beginning (2018) Kari Skogland - director, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2020–) Karyn Kusama - director, Æon Flux (2005), Jennifer’s Body (2009), Destroyer (2018) Kate Mara - producer, My Days of Mercy (2017), A Teacher (2020–) Kathryn Bigelow - director, The Hurt Locker (2008), Zero Dark Thirty (2012) Katt Shea - director, Poison Ivy (1992), Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase (2019) Kay Cannon - writer, New Girl (2012-2013), Girlboss (2017), Cinderella (2021) Kelly Fremon Craig - director, The Edge of Seventeen (2016)  Lana & Lilly Wachowski - directors, The Matrix (1999), Cloud Atlas (2012) Laura Lau - director, Silent House (2011) Leslye Headland - writer, Terriers (2010), Bachelorette (2012), Russian Doll (2019–) Lindsey Beer - writer, Chaos Walking (2020), The Kingkiller Chronicle (?), Silver Sable (?) Lois Weber - director, A Heroine of ‘76 (1911), The Angel of Broadway (1927) Lone Scherfig - director, An Education (2009), One Day (2011), Their Finest (2016) Lorene Scafaria - director, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012), Hustlers (2019) Lucia Aniello - director, Rough Night (2017), Broad City (2014-2019) Lupita Nyong’o - producer, In My Genes (2009), Americanah (2020–) Lynne Ramsay - director, We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) Madonna - director, Filth and Wisdom (2008), W.E. (2011) Margot Robbie - exec. producer, Gotham City Sirens (?), Modern Shakespeare Project (?) Marielle Heller - director, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) Marjane Satrapi - director, Persepolis (2007), The Voices (2014), Radioactive (2020) Marti Noxon - writer, Fright Night (2011), To the Bone (2017), Sharp Objects (2018) Mary Harron - director, American Psycho (2000), Alias Grace (2017), Charlie Says (2018) Mary Pickford - writer, The Awakening (1909), Rags (1915), A Girl of Yesterday (1915) Michelle Williams - exec. producer, Blue Valentine (2010), Fosse/Verdon (2019) Millie Bobby Brown - producer, Enola Holmes (2020) Mimi Leder - director, Deep Impact (1998), On the Basis of Sex (2018) Nancy Meyers - director, The Parent Trap (1998), The Holiday (2006), The Intern (2015) Naomi Watts - exec. producer, Gypsy (2017), The Wolf Hour (2019) Natalie Dormer - writer, In Darkness (2018) Natalie Portman - director, A Tale of Love and Darkness (2015) Nia DaCosta - director, Little Woods (2018), Candyman (2020) Niki Caro - director, Whale Rider (2002), The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017), Mulan (2020) Noomi Rapace - producer, Stockholm (2018), Close (2019), Hearts of Stone (2020) Nora Ephron - director, Sleepless in Seattle (1993), You’ve Got Mail (1998), Julie & Julia (2009) Octavia Spencer - exec. producer, Green Book (2018), Self Made (2020–) Olivia Wilde - director, Booksmart (2019) Patty Jenkins - director, Monster (2003), Wonder Woman (2017), I Am the Night (2019) Penélope Cruz - producer, Twice Born (2012), Ma ma (2015), The Queen of Spain (2016) Penny Marshall - director, Big (1988), A League of Their Own (1992) Phoebe Waller-Bridge - writer, Fleabag (2016-2019), No Time to Die (2020) Quiara Alegría Hudes - writer, In the Heights (2020), Vivo (2021) Rachel Weisz - producer, The Shape of Things (2003), Radiator (2014), Disobedience (2017) Rashida Jones - writer, Black Mirror: Nosedive (2016), Toy Story 4 (2019) Rebecca Hall - director, Passing (2020) Reese Witherspoon - producer, Penelope (2006), Gone Girl (2014), Tinker Bell (?) Robin Wright - director, House of Cards (2014-2018), Land (?) Ruth Wilson - exec. producer, Mrs. Wilson (2018) Sally Potter - director, Orlando (1992), The Man Who Cried (2000) Salma Hayek - producer, Frida (2002), Ugly Betty (2006-2010), The Prophet (2014) Sandra Bullock - exec. producer, George Lopez (2002-2007), The Proposal (2009) Scarlett Johansson - exec. producer, The Whale (2011), Black Widow (2020) Sofia Coppola - director, Lost in Translation (2003), The Beguiled (2017) Susanna White - director, Bleak House (2005), Jane Eyre (2006), Woman Walks Ahead (2017) Susanne Bier - director, Serena (2014), The Night Manager (2016), Bird Box (2018) Tessa Thompson - exec. producer, Little Woods (2018), Sylvie’s Love (2020) Thea Sharrock - director, The Hollow Crown: Henry V (2012), Me Before You (2016) Thea von Harbou - writer, Destiny (1921), Metropolis (1927), Woman in the Moon (1929) Tina Fey - writer, Mean Girls (2004), Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (2015-2019) Valerie Faris - director, Battle of the Sexes (2017), Living with Yourself (2019–) Vanessa Taylor - writer, Divergent (2014), The Shape of Water (2017) Zoe Kazan - writer, Ruby Sparks (2012), Wildlife (2018) Zoe Lister-Jones - director, Band Aid (2017), Woman Up (?), The Craft (?) Zoe Saldana - producer, Rosemary’s Baby (2014), The Honor List (2018), From Scratch (2020–) Zooey Deschanel - exec. producer, New Girl (2011-2018)

[brandydomain02-blog]

Start A Professional Foreclosure Clean Out Business

A Project Management Office (PMO) is a centralized, coordinating body within an organisation that provides an infrastructure of people, procedures, and tools for effective project management It sets standards, enforces accountability and provides governance to manage a number of projects objectively and fruitfully. Among the many benefits offered by Dubai Media City are 100 percent ownership of property, tax free revenues, a chance to network with others in the industry, fast delivery, transport and communications, venue management and a host of other facilities. He cites research performed at the University of Maryland showing that 'college students who use marijuana even occasionally do worse in school, do less homework, are less likely to finish college and are more likely to be unemployed at some time in their lives',” according to Naomi Schaefer Riley in Why do college kids have so much time to smoke pot. The first step is either to hire an attorney to prepare your legal documents to file an application for registration of your LLC, which is a bit expensive, or use free and easy to use services to prepare your documents and file the application yourself by reading guidelines available at their website. Before Nuremberg, the notion of holding individuals liable for the actions of states was as foreign a concept as holding a corporation liable as a juridical person, as evidenced by the Nuremberg Tribunal's handling of the actions brought against corporate entity I.G. Farben. 32 The next, crucial development, then, was the Limited Liability Act 1855 , passed at the behest of the then Vice President of the Board of Trade, Mr. Robert Lowe This allowed investors to limit their liability in the event of business failure to the amount they invested in the company - shareholders were still liable directly to creditors , but just for the unpaid portion of their shares (The principle that shareholders are liable to the corporation had been introduced in the Joint Stock Companies Act 1844). If a company is in a period of major expansion or retrenchment, if it is acquiring or divesting product lines or properties, if it experiences a significant change in volume-up or down-the human resources executive has another excellent opportunity to bring about major organizational improvement in cooperation with senior line managers. When Mandela and other ANC members 'trekked' from Pollsmoor prison and walked down into South Africa mainstream and main streets in the 1990s, they found an African South African population which had not yet recovered from the battering rams of Apartheid, and facing an increasingly recalcitrant Apartheid regime that still went on years after Mandela took over, viz., night raids, kidnappings, tortures, murder, poverty, environmental Apartheid along with economical apartheid, and the whole bit. www.rizmona.com/blog/what-llc-and-how-setup-dubai/ has now become the norm, and the mantra of "dog-eats-dog" has become embedded into the cultural consciousness of the Africans in South Africa and in their national existence and conversations to the detriment of their authentic culture, customs, traditions, history, rites and practices. If there is only one member, there is no liability protection and the LLC is treated as a Sole Proprietor and reported directly on the individual's tax return on a Schedule C. With two or more owners, the LLC offers very good liability protection when set up properly.

[numanewsnow]

Ex-TIHP Board Members Try Seating Themselves Back on TIHP Board

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

Sources indicate former representatives of the Lone Pine Paiute Shoshone Tribe to the Toiyabe Indian Health Project board of directors, Robert Zucco and Richard Button, at the last TIHP board of directors meeting on August 6, 2021, attempted to seat themselves as their tribe's representatives, in spite of their removal at the tribe's general membership meeting on August 1. In place of them, Lisa Smith and Melvin Joseph, Sr., along with Naomi Sellberg as the alternative representative, gained the approval of the tribe's general membership.

According to sources, Mr. Zucco and Mr. Button sat themselves at the table for TIHP board members at the last board meeting. George Gholson, TIHP board chairman, reportedly showed reluctance to seat the new tribal representatives for the Lone Pine Paiute Shoshone Tribe, noting the board had not officially received correspondence transmitted from the tribe naming their new representatives. It was pointed out by audience members how no mention of this requirement is made of this in the TIHP board bylaws or the board procedure policies.

Following some discussion, the board eventually acknowledged and accepted the tribe's replacement representatives.

It was shortly after this acceptance, Mr. Gholson reportedly told the audience members in attendance, largely comprised of interested TIHP patients and members of the tribes represented by TIHP, to leave the meeting due to what he claimed was a COVID-19 protocol, however, Mr. Gholson produced no such policy for the audience members to read for themselves, essentially shutting them out.

Sources note the Bishop Clinic staff screened all audience members for signs of COVID-19, inspected the vaccination cards of those attending who volunteered this information, and were provided adequate room for social distancing with the nearly 3,000-square-foot meeting room at TIHP headquarters at the Bishop Clinic facility.

Numa News Now reached out to TIHP CEO Joseph Herman and former Lone Pine tribal representative Richard Button for comment. Neither of these individuals responded to the request for comment as of publication time.

«NOTE»

The sources for this story spoke to Numa News Now based on the condition of anonymity due to the potential retaliation by the TIHP board of directors or the TIHP management, including the real possibility of being banned from receiving healthcare services amid the continuing COVID-19 pandemic.

[anysquared]

Against Da Fence 2021 was pure joy on Sunday June 27! facebook album > instagram post > Thank you Renegades of Funk Chicago and Squeak Starzula + friends for being AnySquared's partner in this event. Thank you Flash ABC for always being there! Much appreciation Breaker Ray for MCing and highlighting all the artists! (and also being the parking manager). Thank you to DJ Mr Bobby for keeping everyone moving!  Special gratitude goes to each and every volunteer who helped prepare the art, haul, set-up, hang, and take down the show, as well as all of you who prepped and painted the wall! It takes all of us to pull of this multifaceted event! Against da Fence is always a labor of love and community. Art+Community now and forever! ––––

Artists & Volunteers | Ahmed Burson @ab_surd9 • AKIRA  @akira.portraits • Alex Serrato @dasera00 • Alejandro Vilchez @fire.falco • Alice Gabrielle  @teamalice42​ • Alys Calvillo  @bitches__brew • Amadeo Kain Arroyo  @river_arroyo • Andrea Ole  @andreaalewise • Andrew Garcia  @pelon.art • Andrew Rose Vickers @andrew_the_rose_artist • BboyB @bboyb_abc • BAGizzles @grizzeg • Bee Fueroa @shatter.the.myth • Breaker Ray @breakerraypage • Brett Swinney @bswwinney42 • Catherine Cerda @catherineiscatherine • Chris Ramirez @melatoninbaby_runaways • Cypress Jackie Maxine @the_lady_jak • Das Weinstein @theliminalium • Dial8r @dial8r • EAZEL @el_eaz • Emilio Nadales @emilio.nadales • Evon iz @evoniz • FLASHABC @flash_abc • Frankie Peace @lostfrankie • thegrayfox11 @thegrayfox_11 • HASTE @catchwreckcreatives • Helen Sanchez Cortes @helensanzcor • Ian Ehafh @ehafh_ • Icybee @icy_beee • Iyana Simba @lovee.simbaa • Jacob Ramirez @omnecian • Joel Maxime Jr. @cravechicago • Josue @jgum_art • Killaroses Creations @killarosescreations • kn0w.1 @kn0w.1 • Krissy Soriano @bluevelvettdreams • Lucky Gnome @luckygnomechicago • MADDOG & POOKIE @maddogandpookie • Matthew Petrovich @mapssketchbook • Maritza Botello @sparkyartwork_82 • Mr Bobby @djmrbobby • Mr. Pintamuro @mr.pintamuro • Naomi Martinez @monstrochika • Natalia Sustaita @n.susta.art • Natalie Carrasquillo @zombierecycling • Nicole Ciemniak • NøønsSlaps @_noonslaps • Raine Kam Young @rainekamy • RESTINPISS @d0ntsh00t • Slutbug Studios @slutbugstudios • Squeak Starzula @squeakstarzula • Stevie Dez @moth_bord • Tattianna Howard  @tattigram • Tracy Kostenbader @tracykostenbader • Vic Toria @vcrass • Vito Petrosino • Wolf Villalobos @Wolfff456 ______ Anysquared anysquared.com projects@anysquared.com Renegades of Funk rofchicago.com rofchicago@gmail.com

[orbemnews]

How Naomi Osaka Became Everyone’s Favorite Spokesmodel LOS ANGELES — In today’s world of celebrity branding, captions speak louder than words. But Naomi Osaka’s are decidedly understated. “Keep on keeping on,” the 23-year-old tennis champion posted on Instagram under two on-court photos after making it through the fourth round of the Australian Open (which she went on to win). For a slide show that began with a shot of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, whose Costume Institute Gala she will co-chair, in September: “oh we lit.” Below a portrait of herself draped in Louis Vuitton and Nike (both sponsors of hers), simply: “yo.” Her nonchalance, perhaps, is a way of guarding herself on social media, where many more loquacious celebrities have made unforced errors. “You don’t really know people, by looking at their profile,” Ms. Osaka said recently. “You feel like you can sort of catch a glimpse into their life, which, in a way, is a bit wrong.” She said she has to remind herself to post on Instagram: “My mind hasn’t been able to keep track of it.” But certainly her profile, well outfitted as it is, provides a glimpse into her business — and like the meme decrees, business is boomin’. Ms. Osaka is covering everything from ears to rears, making headphones with Beats, athleisure with Nike and denim with Levi’s. Dresses? She designed them with Adeam, a Japanese-American brand. Swimwear? She crafted a collection with Frankies Bikinis. In April, she announced that she would serve as C.E.O. of her own company: Kinlò, a line of skin care made for people with melanated skin tones, produced with GoDaddy. According to Forbes, she made $37.4 million in endorsements and tournament prizes between May 2019 and May 2020, the most a female athlete has ever earned in a single year. “She’s the first professional tennis player we’ve worked with,” said Jen Sey, the brand president of Levi’s, “but for us, she rises above that. She’s such a powerful voice, the way she’s encouraged others to speak out about equality. She’s outspoken. That’s what we like about her. There’s no point in partnering with someone if you’re just going to tell them what to do.” With Nike, she founded an academy to introduce more young women to sports; with L.V.M.H., she joined a judging panel to choose an emerging fashion designer worthy of a 300,000-euro grant. Her imprint seems to be suddenly on everything from enterprise management software (Workday) to water (Bodyarmor). “She is the perfect storm,” said Cindy Gallop, a brand consultant who has worked with several of Ms. Osaka’s sponsors. “She’s a spectacular athlete. She has a strong sense of social justice, she’s prepared to speak her mind.” “Thirdly,” Ms. Gallop said, “she’s female, and fourthly, she’s not white. I hate, loathe, and detest terms like this, but she is, in quotes, diverse. She ticks every box. You can practically hear the brand managers thinking: ‘She is absolutely the right person to sponsor, right now.’” Serving Salad Tennis stars of the past hawked rackets, pain medication, watches (which Ms. Osaka also does, for Tag Heuer) and the ever-changing category of fast food. On a Monday in March, Ms. Osaka found herself in the Los Angeles test kitchen of the chain restaurant Sweetgreen, the Supreme of salad, trying to wrap her head around the notion that one of the restaurant’s dressings — rémoulade — would soon be disappearing from the menu. “What’s in it that makes it seasonal?” Ms. Osaka said. “The pickles,” said Katelyn Shannon, a research and development chef of Sweetgreen. Ms. Osaka nodded. She was wearing a face mask and a high bun; green and black sweatpants poked out beneath her apron. She had more questions: “Are the other dressings seasonal, too?” “What is a salad ‘hack’?” “What’s more popular, kale or romaine?” “How quickly does Sweetgreen go bad?” (Answers: mostly, no; it’s a way to reverse engineer an ingredient, like a seasonal dressing; kale; after two days, stir fry it for 10 minutes for a whole new meal.) Last year, Ms. Osaka signed a deal with Sweetgreen that gives her equity in the company and makes her its first celebrity sponsor. While both parties declined to disclose the terms of the arrangement, Nathaniel Ru, a founder of Sweetgreen, said the company “wanted to make sure she had some skin in the game.” “We’re not going to get a logo on her shirt, maybe we’ll get a salad on the sidelines,” Mr. Ru said. Ms. Osaka stars in a new Sweetgreen ad campaign, on billboards and the internet, that features four sides of her personality (two of the lesser known: “the gaming mogul,” “the meditation master”). The goal, Mr. Ru said, is to “shift the paradigm of what fast food can be.” Traditionally, salad has not had a sponsor; perhaps the closest it came was 10 years ago, when the blog post Women Laughing Alone With Salad went viral. Most of those women were white; perhaps none of them compelled anyone to eat a salad (unironically, anyway). “Representation is important,” said Ms. Osaka, who is Haitian and Japanese. (Part of the proceeds of a salad she designed for Sweetgreen — with baby spinach and tortilla chips, among other ingredients — will go toward nonprofits working to increase food access in Asian-American and Pacific Islander communities.) “It’s important for me to represent things I actually believe in,” she said of her brand partnerships, “that I actually eat. I would never do, like, McDonald’s or Coca-Cola, because I don’t consume them. I consume Sweetgreen once every three days. It’s not something that you can fake.” She added, “you can always tell when someone’s lying.” So radical is her authenticity that it seems to override any desire to appease. When a Sweetgreen employee asked her what she eats on the road, Ms. Osaka said, “at tournament sites they have a salad buffet, so I like to make my own salad.” “Is it sad?” the employee said. “‘Is it sad?’” Ms. Osaka repeated. “Is the salad buffet sad?” the employee clarified. “Oh,” Ms. Osaka said. “Wimbledon has a really good one.” Sister Act In September, Ms. Osaka won the U.S. Open while declaring solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement through her face masks. From a corporate sponsorship perspective, this was a turning point: taking a stance increased her brand value. She shortly thereafter teamed up with Basic Space, an online swap meet for hype beasts (sample items for sale include a St. John coat and a Range Rover) to sell 500 masks designed by her 25-year-old sister, Mari. They sold out in 30 minutes, with proceeds going to UNICEF. “We have a mutual appreciation and respect for what we’re all trying to build,” said Jesse Lee, the founder of Basic Space, “something cool, unique and authentic.” It was he who introduced Ms. Osaka to the founders of Sweetgreen. The Osaka sisters returned to Basic Space last month to auction off a series of N.F.T. artworks, with the final bid for one, “The Unsuspecting Player,” reaching $150,000. It is a Mangaesque imagining of a brown-skinned woman with a tennis racket and a cascade of pink hair not unlike a wig Ms. Osaka wore in a recent Instagram post. “I’ve always felt like my sister knows me best,” Naomi Osaka said during an April interview on Clubhouse, the audio broadcasting app. “I’ve grown up watching her draw and do digital art and paintings, I always wanted to find a way to use my platform to showcase that.” “Though maybe not exactly how I am,” she added, “she captured me well.” It was Ms. Osaka’s first time on Clubhouse, and she did not hide her bemusement when the volume of Mari’s audio dwarfed her own. “I’m literally right next to my sister, so I don’t get why I have a bad connection and she doesn’t,” she said. Many of her brand partnerships involve Mari. They collaborate on sketches for clothing Ms. Osaka designs with her fashion sponsors, like an upcoming capsule collection with Levi’s. “I draw really badly, she can make it look good,” Ms. Osaka said. “She’s able to interpret. Sometimes we don’t even have to talk for her to understand what I’m thinking.” Before the pandemic, Ms. Osaka visited the Levi’s workshop in West Hollywood to conceptualize the pieces, which include an obi-inspired bustier and denim shorts with crystal fringe. When in-person meeting became impossible, she went on Zoom, signing off on 10 designs before they went into production. “As a little kid, I would watch ‘America’s Next Top Model’ and ‘Project Runway,’ and those were sort of scratching the surface of what goes on behind the scenes,” she said. At Levi’s, she said, she could see the process, “how technical they are about buttons and cutting fabric.” Far from the celebrity sponsorship model of yore, in which stars of syndicated TV shows claim to color their own hair at home, Ms. Osaka does not want to work with a company unless she’s learning on the job. As companies scurry to make up for decades of underrepresentation of races other than white, Ms. Osaka is aware that she may seem like the golden ticket. “I don’t just want to be a figurehead, or someone used,” she said. “If I’m with a brand, I want it to be from my heart instead of just trying to promote a message, just for money.” Surely, some thirsty brands have offered some pretty sweet deals? Ms. Osaka laughed. “That’s really a him question,” she said, gesturing at Stuart Duguid, her agent and manager. “She’s not taking incoming calls,” he said. Back in the test kitchen, Ms. Osaka had cast herself, convincingly, as student in salad master class, asking about the pros and cons of various greens, what ingredients go together, watching and learning as Mr. Ru, the Sweetgreen co-founder, demonstrated the proper way to mix with tongs “You’ve got to do the twist,” he said, flipping his wrist. Upstairs, in a makeshift conference room, she photographed a mood board taped to a concrete wall. She gazed at the unfinished ceiling and a rattling screen window. “Really pretty architecture,” she said, sincerely. . Many celebrities are more keen on checking their texts than looking around the room. That’s not Ms. Osaka, or her brand. “I’m very curious about a lot of things,” she said. “Being curious is one of the happinesses of life, because if you’re not curious, that means you’re sort of settled. I feel really humbled, that I play tennis but I’m able to have all these new experiences and opportunities, like getting to make a salad here. I don’t think a lot of people can say that.” “I’m really good at tennis,” she added, “but I’d like to be really good at other things, too.” Source link Orbem News #Everyones #favorite #Naomi #Osaka #Spokesmodel

[womenofcolor15]

‘Genius: Aretha’ Got Pushed Back Due To The Pandemic, Here's The New Premiere Date & New Poster

The COVID-19 pandemic pushed the premiere date of “Genius: Aretha” back. Now, it’s a go! See Cynthia Erivo as Aretha Franklin in the new poster and more about how the delay messed up the EMMY run inside….

The Coronavirus pandemic put a screeching halt to the release of National Geographic’s limited series “Genius: Aretha.”

Cynthia Erivo has been tapped to portray "Queen of Soul" Aretha Franklin in season three of Nat Geo’s EMMY winning anthology series “Genius.” It was originally scheduled to be released right before Memorial Day Weekend 2020, but COVID. The plan was to have each episode air over four consecutive nights in late May 2020, days before the EMMY Awards’ eligibility period ended (May 31st).

No worries. “Genius: Aretha” will now be eligible to be nominated this year since it’ll premiere two months before the eligibility date. Get ready to be engulfed in some soulful vibes when the limited series premieres in March 2021.

Two-time Oscar nominee Cynthia Erivo celebrated her 34th birthday by unveiling the new key art:

        View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by Cynthia Erivo (@cynthiaerivo)

  “Genius: Aretha” is billed as the first-ever, definitive and only authorized scripted limited series on the life of the musical icon. It will chronicle Aretha’s incredible music career, her musical genius and the impact she made on music and culture around the world.

The Broadway starlet will perform songs from Aretha’s legendary catalogue. Several of the singer’s biggest hits will also be featured in the series, including "I Never Loved a Man (the Way I Love You)," "Chain of Fools," "Don't Play That Song" and "Baby I Love You," along with her performances of "Freeway of Love," "I Knew You Were Waiting for Me" and "Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves."

Not only that, her activism for civil rights will also be featured.

There’s a star-studded cast to back the new project, including Emmy winner Courtney B. Vance (“The People V. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story”) as Aretha’s father, C.L. Franklin; Malcolm Barrett (“Timeless,” “Preacher”) as Ted White, Franklin’s first husband and business manager; David Cross (“Mr. Show,” “Arrested Development”) as legendary music producer Jerry Wexler; Grammy winning musician and actor Tip “T.I.” Harris (“Ant Man,” “Get Hard”) as Ken Cunningham; Patrice Covington (“The Color Purple”, “Ain’t Misbehavin’”) and Rebecca Naomi Jones (“Oklahoma!,” “The Big Sick”) portray Erma and Carolyn Franklin, respectively, as Aretha’s sisters and frequent background singers who supported and collaborated with their famous sibling; Steven Norfleet (“Watchmen,” “Dynasty”) as older brother Cecil Franklin, who stepped in as Aretha’s manager following her divorce from Ted White; veteran actress Pauletta Washington (“Beloved,” “She’s Gotta Have It”) as Aretha’s nurturing and loving paternal grandmother, Rachel; Omar J. Dorsey (“Queen Sugar”) as James Cleveland; Marque Richardson (“Dear White People”) as King Curtis, and Kimberly Hébert Gregory (“Vice Principals”) as Ruth Bowen.

        View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by Shaian Nakia Jordan (@shaianjordan)

And introducing Shaian Jordan as young Aretha Franklin, Little Re.

Peep the trailer below:

“Genius: Aretha” will premiere on National Geographic this March. Will you be tuning in?

Oh...

Yes, Jennifer Hudson is still playing Aretha Franklin in the upcoming biopic about the singer's life. The upcoming biopic film titled RESPECT is set to drop in August 2021.

Photo: One35Agency

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2021/01/13/%E2%80%98genius-aretha%E2%80%99-got-pushed-back-due-to-the-pandemic-heres-the-new-premiere-date-cynthia-e

[cherrybloomn]

Delicate - Chapter 3

Note: ok Chapter 3 is here. Your opinion is always welcomed (criticism included!). Its my first stoey ever so please be kind. I know I have much to work on, but I hope that it will get better and better.

I would like to thank very (VERY) much @musings-sans-muse and @shellbilee for your support, help, ideas, everything! You girls rock!!

Thank you @oddsnendsfanfics for your encouragement!

Warnings: swearing

April 2020

 

Naomi spent the whole March shooting her show in Berlin (as there was a theatre festival) and preparing the charity event for children. She managed to schedule everything– the place (Hyde Park), the catering, the guests. Obviously, everything was cancelled due to coronavirus restrictions. Everyone was forbidden to go to the tv studio, so Naomi worked on the new scripts of the episodes, watched movies, wrote reviews of new plays, etc.

Since their last lunch, Naomi had been regularly in touch with Henry, mostly via WhatsApp. They have met a couple of times. The more she talked with him, the more she liked him. He made her laugh. But not only that. He seemed to care about others, yet had this reasonable attitude - often saying that you can’t change the world alone.

She valued him for being the voice of reason. They have known each other for only two months, yet she told him a lot about her family and difficult relationship with her father (who was a real - life spitting image of Logan Roy from The Succession), her issues with James, her weird fascinations of criminal stories about murderers and disappearances and the II World War.

One day she had just come home and put the groceries on the kitchen island, when her phone buzzed. She picked up the video call. Henry. The thought of seeing his face and talking to him always shifted her mood. “Hello boy. Give me a moment I need to wash my hands. I’ve just been out in a bad, bad store.” She giggled and headed to the bathroom with her phone, placing it next to the sink.

“Of course. I can see your tits now, by the way. No worries though, I enjoy the view.” He chuckled lightly. Naomi rolled her eyes and quickly moved the phone to the higher counter. She took a minute to study Henry’s face. Something was off. She couldn’t tell if he looked sad or tired. It was off though. She was wondering why. In this very moment she also realized that he was one of very few people, who were… important to her. Not in a romantic kind of way. No. Naomi didn’t date, she didn’t want to build a relationship with any man, not anymore. Still, he was important. 

“Helloo..” Henry waved his hand from the other side of the screen.

“I’m sorry. I thought of my round, perfect, little tits. Changing the awkward subject, how are you doing in times of isolation? You look tired. Is everything ok?” Naomi dried her hands with a towel, grabbed her phone and headed to the kitchen. She placed her phone on the kitchen island, leant on her elbows and focused on the phone screen.

“I’m fine. A bit anxious I think. Not my best day today. That’s why I’m calling. I expect to hear some entertaining story about your crazy childhood.”

She laughed, and thought for a moment. “I’m not in the mood today. You know, I almost got a role in the Moulin Rouge musical in the Old Vic. I mean I did get the part of Satine, and I was so excited, as it would be my debut after all these years. Unfortunately, they called today that due to the lockdown, the project has been entirely called off.” She shrugged “At least Netflix doesn’t disappoint. There’s the Money Heist premiere today.”

After a second she added “Join me today! Look I know it’s illegal, alright? But I can promise we will keep the two – meter distance. I can offer you good whiskey and whatever meal the chosen restaurant could provide. Except for pizza and other carbo shit. I’m on a low-carbo diet. You know I’d love to say I’m one of those women who can eat everything because they’re so cool and don’t care about their looks or have a wonderful metabolism. But unfortunately, I’m not them. My metabolism is my enemy and I do fucking care about how I look because the CEO of BBN asks about my weight like once a month.” She smiled at him “So, take it or leave it.”

“I take it. I can cook something if you want. Oh, can I take Kal with me?”

“Cooking – ok. Sounds cool. Kal – Henry, in general of course. But you need to keep in mind I’ve got two Pomeranians – and as much as they love people and small dogs, they sometimes hate the big ones. So, bring Kal with you and in case there’s war, I’ll take Marilyn and Audrey to my neighbor.”

They discussed the details about the dogs’ meeting and decided to meet at 6 pm. Naomi took her time to call her mum and friends, take her dogs for a walk and take a shower. Afterwards she applied a bit of makeup, put on her black Nike leggings and white tank top. She let her hair loose so that it could dry quickly. Just after she poured herself a glass of water, her phone buzzed and Henry informed, he’s waiting outside with Kal. Naomi called her dogs and all of them headed to the small park near her apartment. Naomi couldn’t stop laughing when she spotted Henry with the Salvador Dali mask on – a kind of tribute to Money Heist, which they were going to watch.

Unfortunately, just as Naomi thought, there was no love between Kal and Marylin. At least Audrey accepted the big bear immediately. Naomi decided to take Marylin to her neighbor, and the rest of them headed to her place.

Much to Naomi’s surprise, Henry cooked a delicious dinner, and they spent the whole evening watching five episodes of the Netflix series. Being her kittenish self, Naomi gently touched Henry’s knee with her toes from time to time. “Heey… relax.” She said with a smile. “I can tell you something nice, wanna hear?”

Henry raised his eyebrow and looked at her with a smirk “Go on, entertain me.” He gently rubbed her ankle with one hand, the other one was supported on the back of the sofa.

“Alright..” Naomi closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the delicate massage. Finally she looked him in the eyes. She smiled shyly and turned her face away, “Henry.. Do remind me please, is your dad a boxer?” She asked coyly.

Henry seemed a bit puzzled “No, no. Have I ever said that he was?”

“Well no...but damn, I’m asking because you’re such a knockout!”.

They both burst out with laughter.

“What a cheesy pickup line, I love it! Where do you know that from?”

Naomi started to play with her hair “Well, it happens to me all the time” she joked. “It’s nice to see you laughing.” She added after a second.

At around 3 a.m. they decided it was really late, so they were to terminate their evening with just one glass of Jack Daniels (due to her diet Naomi didn’t drink alcohol, but promised to have a goodbye drink).

Naomi brought two glasses to the living room and sat on the sofa. Henry was sitting on the opposite side. Once Naomi extended her hand and handled him a glass of whiskey, he slowly grabbed the glass with one hand and held her wrist with another. “What a massive rock!” He said, looking closely at her two - carat diamond engagement ring. He gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. His touch, ever so gentle made Naomi shiver. Something about it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. “Has James proposed to you? I had no idea”. Henry let go of her hand and supported himself on the back of the sofa.

 “No, of course not. It’s an engagement ring I was given by my husband. I often wear it.” Naomi didn’t like to talk about her marriage with anyone. She felt very comfortable with Henry and they talked about many personal things, but she never mentioned her married life.

Henry slowly nodded. “You never talk about your marriage.” He took a sip of his drink and after a couple of seconds asked “Do you still love him?”

Naomi zoned out for a second, focusing her eyes on the floor. Her hand tried to retrace Henry’s touch on her knuckles. This touch. So delicate. It was one of the most intimate moments she’s ever experienced. Why was it so intimate - she didn’t know. She had had a lot of sex lately. Mostly with James. James never touched her this way. Why? Why had nobody ever touched her this way, she thought.

“Naomi.” Henry’s low, but soft voice snatched her out of her thoughts. She looked at him with slightly parted lips. What were they talking about? Oh, right. Her ex-husband.

“Do I love my husband? Because I wear the engagement ring? No. Not at all. I just love expensive jewellery with big diamonds.” She chuckled looking at her engagement ring. “That’s the secret. But no. I have no feelings for my ex - husband. As for why I don’t talk about my marriage, there’s just nothing to talk about. I was 20, he was 34 at that time we got married. I wanted to be an actress, he was a serious entrepreneur. I wanted to run away from my mum, who was trying to take over my whole life, and he was looking for a young woman to build a home with. At some point it didn’t work out. We had a nasty divorce and division of assets. He then moved to Moscow, and as far as I know he still lives there. The end.”

Naomi refilled Henry’s glass with whisky, Naomi willed herself to focus back on the conversation and not on the ghost of his touch that lingered on her skin. “What about your love life, Mr. One Hundred Questions to Naomi Poesy?” She asked and winked at him.

“You know how it is Naomi. It’s just hard to get involved with someone, if you have this kind of job. It’s all about either accepting my schedule and traveling with me, or building a long – distance relationship. It hardly ever works. Also…”

Naomi suddenly held her right hand up in a stop gesture. “I’m sorry, but I just have to interrupt here. That sounds like you’re trying to find a justification. I mean – and I’m really sorry for sharing my opinion unasked – but building any relationship is hard in general. Do you really think your situation is any different from a situation of CEOS or anyone who has a career, money and power? The scale may be different but the issues are all the same. I mean a CEO of a big insurance company does have the very same problems. He asks the same questions - if his new other half is with him because of his status, money, position or because she’s in love. And the schedule thing – sure it’s hard to build a relationship when you’re on the set for a couple of months and it literally consumes all of your time. Trust me though, it’s not easier if you work as a physician or a lawyer, or if you work in a big tv corporation like I do. Instead of being on the set for a couple of months, people work their asses off every day, because they have loans to pay, plans to realize. And they usually don’t have any breaks. The fact that you get back home to your other half after 9 pm does not necessarily make your relationship better. It’s just the matter of what you’re expecting from a relationship.”

Henry just nodded and added after a moment “I just want to have a family of my own.”

“Well. But this is not the answer to the question of what you are expecting from a relationship. I mean, obviously everyone wants to start a family. The question is – what does it mean to you? Some want to start a family because they hate to be lonely, some feel like they need to take care of others, and some just feel like it makes them feel complete. You know sometimes you meet the person you resonate with, you feel the great chemistry with, but it just doesn’t work because of lots of other factors like the timing, circumstances etc. So, what I mean is that you really need to know what you expect from your partner so that you can fight for it.” She thought about what she said for a minute “Hm.. it sounded much wiser in my head before I verbalized it.”

Henry laughed and looked her in the eyes licking his lips. That gentle touch. After a few seconds of glancing at each other she smiled at him and shyly turned her face away. “Ok, enough. Don’t try to charm me here.” She grabbed her phone from the coffee table. “Man, it’s 4 am! I’m not surprised I’m bubbling something half intelligent. I should be sleeping already, I have promised to help Sarah tomorrow morning. This morning. If you want to you can stay, I have a guest room and a spare toothbrush.”

“Thank you, but I guess I better get back home.” He grabbed his phone and ordered an Uber. “I just have to say” he started as they both stood up and headed towards the hall. “You are so tiny without high heels!”

She laughed “No shit Sherlock.”

“No, but seriously. I wanted to say” he stopped there and looked at Kal. It seemed like he was fighting with his thoughts whether to verbalize what he wanted to say or not. “I really like spending time with you.”

Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t date Cavill.” She said with a smile.

Henry just nodded and leaned towards her, so close that their faces were just inches away, and said “Well, pity.” He chuckled and leaned even closer to give her a goodbye kiss on a cheek “Bye, girl. Get some sleep.” He then took a step away and called for Kal, who was already bouncing on his legs ready to go.

Naomi reached to open the front door for them, but instead of doing it, she turned towards Henry and leaned against the door. She noticed his clenched jaw, then placed her eyes on his lips and eyes. She slowly grabbed the drawstring of his hood with her right hand and wrapped it around her fingers. “Hey.. I don’t, but what would you do if I did date…?” she asked playfully. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Naomi..” Henry smiled lightly at her, and tenderly touched her cheek, moving his fingers from her cheekbone through her lips to her chin. He was slowly studying her face. Naomi looked at him stunned, her lips parted, she was not expecting that.

“I’m 37. I’m too old to play this game. Please, don’t play with me.” He stroked her cheek once more with his index finger and stepped back. He fastened Kal’s leash. In the meantime Naomi unlocked the door and moved back.

“Goodbye” He gave her a warm smile and left.

Naomi quickly closed the door and tried to understand what had just happened. She felt all the emotions at once - arousal, humiliation, sadness, anger, happiness. She brushed her fingers through her cheek. That gentle touch. She took a deep breath. In her entire life Naomi had always been the “tough guy” - first in ballet school, at home, when her mother suffered from depression, and Naomi had to take care of her mother and her brother, then drama school. Establishing her position in television was not easy either. Oh, and her marriage. She was just a girl when she got married and her older husband always knew better. The random men she fucked after she got divorced. James. They all wanted to have her, possess her. And she kind of liked it. It made her feel attractive and in charge. But that touch was somethings new.

Naomi felt the tears welling in her eyes, as if for the first time in her life, she experienced such a gentle touch. And it felt so good.

[thisspiderwrites]

un-fucking-believable (t.h.)

description: you’d think that two people that dream of working in the entertainment industry would have something in common other than their passion. word count: 3.6 k pairing: tom holland x reader based off: la la land                                                                                            a/n: i tried making it fun to read and this is the first fic i’m actually publishing so sorry if it’s not that good, i’m not sure if this has been done before so i apologize if the idea is not that original, anyway i hope you like it (also forgive me if there are some mistakes, english is not my first language) and special thanks to @tomhollandxreader for helping me out                                                warnings: language, angst (i think), mentions of sex (very light ones)

Winter

The sun was at its finest hour and causing people to simmer inside their cars while they waited for traffic to finally flow smoothly. The sound of completely different songs blasted from each vehicle. The drivers managed to find ways to kill time while waiting, some singing along the lyrics of the songs that make it to the top forty, and others crossing off and adding tasks to their to-do lists.

“It’s another day of sun in the city of Los Angeles… A mí me gustan mayores… Let’s just turn down the lights and close the door… They try to make me go to rehab but I said… Si tu novio te deja sola…”

“How come radio stations in L.A. don’t play anything good when you actually need them to?” a very pale freckled boy said to his older brother from the passenger seat.

“It’s not that they’re bad songs, they just don’t fit your mood.” the curly haired driver responded, “anyway forget the music and help me with my lines.”

After many failed auditions, Tom was slowly losing his faith but he couldn’t let his brothers see that. After his big break acting alongside Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor he was hoping to get more than just two roles, but none of his auditions were going the way he wanted them to go. Most times he got the roll, but then the project was shut down, and other times, he simply wasn’t fit for the part. He kept the auditions going just like he kept working as a barista, like everyone else in Los Angeles.

“Tom, where’s your aux chord?” he started looking in the compartment in front of him, once he found it he connected his phone and started browsing through his music library.

“I think about that day I left him at a Greyhound station West of Santa Fé…”

“Okay, let’s see…” the freckled boy tried looking for the last line they practiced.

“Page six Sam” Tom started moving his thumbs to the beat of the song.

“Alright… Mister French please wrap it up.”

“Objection! Your honor, Mr. Pierce’s argument has no base at all. According to California state law, the court does not attend to matters of the heart… Crap, I messed up.” Sam looked at his brother reading the lines once again.

They both got startled when they heard a loud honk behind them. They both looked offended to the car next to them. A girl with an annoyed look stopped right next to them on a nice Buick Riviera Convertible and honked one more time. Tom flipped her off and she drove away shaking her head.

“Jeez, people here could learn some manners” Tom gave Sam his script and started driving.

Tom finally dropped Sam off at the restaurant where he performed at to help pay rent, and went to his audition. This was the third audition of the week, and he was exhausted, he wanted to do more than just knock on everyone’s door begging for a chance, he had his own plan: an amazing indie film that, right now, he thought was never going to see the light of day. He went in the building and he sat there waiting for a while. Everyone around him with the same clothes and haircut as him. He started bouncing his leg nervously without noticing until he was finally called in. He thought the audition was going rather well, but as he was in the middle of crying for the scene, someone came into the room and the casting director told him he could leave. He just nodded and then sniffled before exiting the room.

Tom threw himself on his bed and laid there for a while with his eyes closed. He let out a sigh after rubbing his face with his hands. He took a towel and decide to hide in his shower for a while. He was deep in his eighties rock playlist to sing in the shower when he heard loud banging on his bathroom door. He rolled his eyes and dried his hand to stop the music.

“What?” he shouted while wiping a drop of shampoo that threatened to get in his eye.

“Hurry up Tom, I need to take a shit before we leave!” he heard his other brother, Harry, say through the door.

“Leave? Where are you going?” he asked stopping the water from running to hear Harry better.

“Just get out of the shower already! I got us a way into a party from a movie that just wrapped” he heard his brother and let the water run again so he could take the rest of the shampoo off.

As soon as Harry heard his brother stopped singing he swung the door open. He was hit by a heat wave.

“Holy shit, you want to open a window?” he walked right past Tom and started fixing his hair.

“How did the audition go?” This time it was his best friend Harrison at the doorframe.

Tom gave him a look and shrugged, towel wrapped around his waist. The blue eyed boy patted his shoulder and told him to get ready. Tom walked out of the bathroom in direction to his room trying to avoid eye contact.

“I’m not really having a great day, maybe I’ll just call Megan and we’ll stay in” he used his girlfriend as an excuse even though they had barely seen each other in weeks and Tom didn’t know where their relationship was at anymore.

“Look man, I’m sorry about the audition but you need to clear your head” Harrison said following him. “You’re a great actor and I’m sure you’ll get a call back soon, besides a lot of important people will be at the party tonight. So put on some pants and let’s go out” after this Tom shut the door in his face. “I thought this was the part where we shared a bro hug.”

Right after putting his sweatpants on, Tom heard banging on his door again.

“What?” he found Harrison and Harry ready to go right outside. “I don’t want to go to a party filled with social climbers and Hollywood clichés.”

“You’ve got the invitation, you’ve got the right address…”

“I’m guessing Sam’s here.”

He looked in the music’s direction and he found his brother singing with his earphones still on. The freckled boy examined his roommates and took one earphone out.

“I’ll get ready in a bit, I got a little caught up at the restaurant” he excused himself walking towards his room. “Also, the lady next door asked if one of us could look after her cats” his voice muffled because of the door.

“You choose mate” Harrison said. “The party or cat sitting?”

“Fine I’ll put on some pants” he said like a defeated teenager.

“So I was thinking that this could be the greatest idea since the Lord of the Rings…”

This girl had been talking to Tom about her newest production for about an hour. After a few glasses of whatever it was that they were serving at the party Tom was buzzed enough to not care.

“Yeah, that’s because it sounds an awful lot like the Lord of the Rings… Melanie.” He was tired of his friends bailing on him at these parties when they finally found someone to take home.

“It’s Melissa, and no it’s not. Look, first of all it’s not a ring, it’s a necklace and second of all it’s not hobbits and a shire, it is trolls and a bridge. It’s brilliant!” Melissa would have gotten on Tom’s nerves if he hadn’t been distracted by his own girlfriend.

“Megan?” he thought she wasn’t in town.

“No, it’s Melissa. Do I need to spell it?” Tom excused himself and walked in Megan’s direction.

After two years of being in a steady relationship, Tom and Megan were losing their groove. They started growing apart but felt the need to stay with each other because they feared to lose one of the only things that felt familiar anymore, at least Tom did. They started skipping out on dates, missing each other’s phone calls, forgetting to answer each other’s texts, things that happened in any dying friendship. Except this wasn’t a friendship, this was an actual relationship. Even sex started becoming a dull thing for both of them. So when he saw her leaving with an older guy who looked like a movie producer he wasn’t really surprised.

“Hey! Megan!” he tried going up to her before she was all the way out the door.

“Tom? What are you doing here?” she turned around looking surprised and a little worried.

“Harry got us in” they both stood there for a while.

Tom didn’t really know what he was expecting, maybe an apology, an explanation or at least something to let him down easy. She looked at Tom and opened her mouth a few times trying to decide what to say but no words came out of her mouth until the guy she was leaving with decided to check what was taking her so long.

“Megan, sweetie, I thought you were ready” he put his hand in the small of her back and Tom didn’t know what to think.

“I am, I was just…” she stared at Tom for a while and still didn’t know what to say.

“Who’s this young man?” he held her closer to him this time and Megan looked uncomfortable.

“Nobody” Tom said. “I was just leaving and I thought I knew her but, I guess I don’t” he still looked at Megan hoping she would say something.

“Let’s go then babe” the guy looked at Megan expectantly.

“I’ll meet you in the car Dean, I just realized I got the wrong purse” he kissed her head murmured something that made her smile.

Her smile faded away when she saw Tom’s blank expression. No more anger or confusion, because he wasn’t sure how to feel. Was she dating that ‘Dean’ guy now? Were Megan and him over? Where had she been the past few weeks? Why hadn’t she called? She kept talking but Tom couldn’t hear anything

“…I know this is confusing but I really need this Tom, please don’t screw this up for me. I’ll catch up with you later” she looked at him with the puppy eyes that always got Tom to do everything she wanted.

“I don’t see how I could screw this up. Look, do whatever you want to do. I don’t want to hear anything from you right now.” she nodded and left.

He stood there alone, people passing him by. A few minutes later he decided to get his Prius and go back home.

Un-fucking-believable. That’s exactly what went through Tom’s mind when he saw his car had been towed. He was not in the mood for walking. He wasn’t really in the mood for anything. He wanted to forget about everything for a while. How his audition has gone terrible, how he hated his job as a barista, how his girlfriend basically broke up with him without even knowing, how he had to walk all the way home and go get his car tomorrow morning. This was definitely not his day.

He found himself walking by the restaurant Sam worked at. He was able to hear the classic Christmas tunes, but he stopped to actually listen when the melody changed. It was calm and it sounded familiar. He felt his heavy chest lighten up and he forgot about his shitty day. All he could think was how much he wanted to know who was playing and what was it that spoke to him. He turned around and made his way into the restaurant. He contemplated the pianist on duty and how her fingers moved swiftly to the melody. The strand of hair moving towards her face sparked a memory in Tom’s head.

“I flipped her off this morning.”

“Why is it that they give a driver’s license to any idiot now days?” y/n thought to herself while moving past the Prius that refused to move in front of her.

The guy driving gave her an offended look and flipped her off when she honked again. She didn’t care, she just wanted to get to the comfort of her house after almost melting under the sun. She even hallucinated people getting out of their cars and stopping traffic to do a dance routine. She got out of her lovely car and took the cassette she was listening to out of her stereo. She had the habit of bringing only one cassette every ride so she could listen to the songs she was learning better. She took her prescription sunglasses off and unlocked the door of her apartment to find her brother, Tyler, laying across her leather couch with his shoes on. She jumped to the sight of two feet dangling from one of the armrests.

“Please stop sneaking into my home” she said trying to catch her breath.

“Well hello to you too, sis” he said getting up a little disoriented. “Do you think mom would call this a home?”

“Well this is what the apartment looked like before we picked you up from your foster home…” she stopped abruptly to notice he had taken off the sheet that was guarding the couch from dust and the sneakers he was wearing we covered in dirt. “What are you doing? Please don’t sit there or at least take your shoes off” she pushed him off her couch.

“Are you serious right now?” he got up from the floor.

“There are other couches that don’t have sheets on them, you can sit on those” she grabbed the sheet that was now a ball of cloth on the floor.

Her brother had a hard time walking around due to all of the boxes full of records, cassettes and pictures of musicians.

“When are you going to unpack all of these? It looks like you just moved in, no wonder you’re single, people can barely walk here” Tyler made his way to the fridge and started looking for something to eat.

“I swear when mom adopted the little kid from ‘Maid in Manhattan’ I didn’t think it was for him to come into my house, get dirt on my carpet and steal my food” she closed the fridge on his face “and I will unpack these when I unpack them in my own club!”

“Ugh! y/n it’s like a girl broke up you and you’re stalking her” Tyler started looking through all the pictures.

“Talking from your own experience?” she slapped his hand “Don’t touch that!” he rolled his eyes.

“Look, I have someone I want you to meet” he grabbed a framed picture of their mom and changed its place.

“I don’t want to date another one of your Hollywood fuckboys, I’m done with all of them” she rolled her eyes.

“Even Dylan?” he raised an eyebrow holding up a paper with a phone number.

“Especially Dylan” she said taking the paper with the new boy’s number on it.

She curled it up in a ball and threw it in the trash. The paper fell outside and Tyler picked it up.

“You missed” he stood in front of her trying to stop her from avoiding him. “Look, mom and I are worried about you and she hopes you’re not in some kind of cult of something” y/n looked offended.

“Why would she think that?” she escaped her brother and put their mother’s picture back in its place.

“Oh, I don’t know” he said sarcastically “maybe because you’re living like a hermit and driving without insurance” she rolled her eyes. “You need to get your shit together.”

“I know a guy with a face tattoo, he has his shit together and a heart of gold! He’s perfect for you” she said with a faked enthusiasm.

“Get your shit together” he said with a stern look.

“Get my shit together? Tyler I had my shit together, it’s not my fault I got scammed!” now y/n was moving her hands hysterically.

“Oh my god y/n, everyone knew that lady was shady and warned you. You were too busy shagging her to notice” she opened her mouth but he cut her off. “Look, Sam is a nice guy, he likes music and he’s a pianist just like you. He even works at that restaurant you used to work at. Call him” he put the paper ball on her hand.

“I don’t want to date myself!” now Tyler was the one running away. “Look, you’re acting like life’s got me on the ropes. The truth is that I’m letting life hit me until it gets tired. After that I’m going to punch back” He kissed the top of her head and then mouthed a call him before leaving. “I’m changing the locks!”

“You can’t afford it!” he shouted from the end of the hall.

“I’m a phoenix, raising from the ashes!” she shouted back. “Wow, mom was right, I could’ve been an actress” she thought before closing the door and throwing the number towards a random place in her living room.

She sat on her stool in front of her piano and started practicing the song she was listening to in the car.

The night arrived and even though she hated playing at the restaurant, she had to. She was lucky they gave her a second chance at all, taking into account the fact that last time she was there she fought with a client because he requested for her to play softer.

“Hey buddy, don’t know if you noticed but this isn’t a keyboard. Also if you don’t like what I’m playing the door is right there.”

Yeah, those were her exact words. She got ready and put on her best suit. Somehow the tie made her feel more confident than the heels she was requested to wear but never actually did. She made her way into the restaurant with all the Christmas sheet music in a black portfolio and greeted her boss with the fakest smile she could ever produce.

“Hello sir, thank you for having me back” she shook his hand and he mirrored her fake smile.

“Just play the set list” he said letting go of the handshake.

“Right, even though I don’t think anyone cares what I play but sure thing” she said walking towards the piano.

“If you mean anyone other than me then you’re correct. I care and I don’t want to hear any jazz, that’s what the club in the next block is for” he raised an eyebrow as for asking if everything was clear.

“Understood” she said waiting for him to leave to start playing.

Like on cue, he gave y/n one last glance before leaving. She felt a weight fall of her shoulders and started arranging her sheets. She got a few bills from her wallet for the tip jar and got around to examine in what key she was going to play the set list. Right when she was about to start she heard a sarcastic welcome back from one of the waiters.

“Thank you, it’s always nice to see your face Dylan” she put her fingers on the keys and started playing jingle bells.

After playing the set list twice and having only one dollar from tips that wasn’t from her wallet y/n got tired of playing the classic ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. She looked around, there were only a few hipsters at the bar and only a few couples sitting on the table area. The hipsters were too busy choosing their beer and the couples were all over each other. No one was going to notice, right? She started the set list once again but this time she shifted the melody to something she knew very well. Her fingers started moving passionately to Mia & Sebastian’s Theme. Once she finished she got up her stool, disheveled. She looked around and noticed people staring at her. Not a single person clapping. She turned around to see her boss leaning against the door frame. He just moved his index finger indicating her to approach to him.

“I think I hear what you’re saying but that’s not really what you mean” y/n argued desperate.

“I think I just said that you’re fired, so yeah, that’s pretty much it” her boss said.

“Yeah, I hear you but I don’t think that what you mean, I think you mean…” she gestured for her boss to finish her sentence.

“I mean you are fired” he stood his ground.

“You mean ‘play the set list, this is a warning’, Right?” she continued to try.

“What planet are you from? I said you’re fired” y/n’s face dropped.

“But it’s Christmas…” she tried one last time.

“Yeah, I see the decorations. Good luck in the new year.”

Her blood was boiling now. No one cared what she played. Not a single person gave her a glance except for that weird guy with the lazy eye that tipped her a dollar. She couldn’t believe she had just blown her chance because she played one different song. A beautiful song that she poured her heart into. She looked at the doorway and saw a guy staring at her. She took her money plus the one buck from the jar and her black portfolio with her sheet music. On her way out she saw the guy from the doorway approaching her but she was so mad she couldn’t hear anything.

“I just heard you play and I wanted to…” y/n bumped into Tom but just kept walking.

He stood there stunned. He scoffed and once again thought to himself.

Un-fucking-believable

tags: @zendmylife @spidey-mantom @sam-a-holland @spider-bih @sidespidey @dusktillholland @hollandazing @tomhollandxreader @lovelyimagines @loverholland