#I wonder how long it will take the casting directors to realise I can’t dance

[passionartx]

A few days ago I got cast as Dorothy in my local theatre company’s production of The Wizard Of Oz and I just know this means I’m gonna be hyperfixating on @whotfletamothhyperfx’s @sonicwizardofozau 10 times harder! So I decided to draw their AU Tails design + T-Pup

!Defo check their au out if you haven’t already cause ahhh it’s so, so good! The world building, the character designs, the art, the everything!✨!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 04

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual harassment (please don’t read this chapter if it triggers/makes you uncomfortable, your safety comes first)

A/N:  i do realise i’m on a roll posting every day but uni starts early and idk why i keep writing like i’m running out of time😂 hope you enjoy this chapter. much love xx

* additionally, there is a light sexual harassment scene in this chapter and if anyone is uncomfortable or triggered by it i would skip it. your mental health and safety come first. *

NEXT CHAPTER

One day I’ll fly away...

She remembered the very first role she got to play as a lead. She was the standby for Glinda in Wicked. She could still feel her hand shaking as the backstage technicians secured her to the bubble. She could still hear the bubble machine engine rumble as the bubble raised up in the ceiling and for a moment she was above everything - above the audience, above the cast, above the stage itself. It felt like flying, soaring through the gasping of the crowd. She remembered feeling like this was her height, this was her flight but as things went, as she got more roles and as she progressed to the screen as she always wanted, the feeling of flying just seemed to soar, turning her into a creature of air.

Flying for Bucky was something he couldn’t remember, he remembered crashing. Remembered falling from the train waiting for the peaceful slumber of death to come but it never did, remembered the cold snow melting through his jacket reaching his skin. It’s cold. Remembered diving in after Steve, lungs filled with water, heavy suit. It’s cold, it’s quiet. Soaring was only something he could dream of while frozen or when they put him on a cell with a small window. Crashing was more like something he could remember, drowning, pushed to the bottom by his arm, wishing death came to greet him

More powerful than crashing was sound. The theatre was always filled with whistling from men getting a peak at ladies’ legs, women giggling and security trying to keep out children and teens away. You could hear the laughter reverberating from any material, it was electrifying. Her voice however seemed to melt over distorted past sounds, a melancholy while held hands with the old telling it never of its former glory but of what it can be. Bucky knew now why her agency kept her so locked up, all people with a voice eventually fly away. 

     - Don’t just stare at me. - she bite her lip, looking the other way. Did she sound that bad? She thought she sounded just fine in the shower that morning, maybe her bathroom had better acoustics. - Should we go back home? Before it gets dark?

     - Sure. - he got up from his seat, extending his hand towards her so she could jump off the set. She put her hand in his, another hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as her elevated her up into the air before bringing her down onto the worn out floor. 

The walk back to the subway was quiet. People were starting to crowd Coney Island for night time dates. Bucky remembered bringing girls to dates in Coney Island, even remembered bringing Steve along, he just didn’t remember the girls’ names anymore. There were some flashes of what they were wearing but surely those memories were replaced with that of Y/N staring at the ferris wheel as they walked back to the subway.

Once there, her child like wonder of the city that never slept and the city which she now lived in didn’t seem to leave her eyes, sparkling brighter than the billboards in Times Square. The walk back to the apartment was once again quiet, with their footsteps being the only thing echoing in the halls. Soon enough they reached her door, still looking as intact as they left it.

     - Thank you so much for showing me Coney Island. - she handed him the teddy he had won. - Thank you gift. 

     - I won it for you, Y/N. Besides, I think I’m a bit past stuffed animals. 

     - Well, I’ve had my fair share of stuffed animals to last a life time and I insist you keep this one. - she stuffed the teddy between his arms, finding it incredibly adorable how the little toy looked smaller in the middle of his arms than in hers. - Little Coney Island memento. 

     - I should get going. - he changed the subject, gesturing with his hands as he looked at the time on his watch. - It’s been a great day, Y/N.

     - The pleasure’s been all mine, Bucky. - she smiled as she held the edge of the door. She stood by the slightly opened door watching as he turned the corner which led to the lift. Once he was out of sight, Y/N walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her but still holding the knob with a silly smile on her face. 

Bucky reached the headquarters around 11 PM. Despite going the long way home, expecting Steve to be asleep when he returned. Steve had a very mundane routine when it came to sleeping, he could still sleep but he would wait until everyone was asleep for him to go to his bedroom. Bucky didn’t want to have to dance the first day in the job waltz. He knew he cared, he knew Steve wanted him to be alright. There was only one small thing; Steve wanted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his Bucky, and he just wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t like being asked who he was, he doesn’t know who he is.

Opening the door to the living room, he found Captain America himself sat on the big lounge chair, skimming through his list of modern day TV shows and movies. His blue eyes moved from the bright lights of the television to him.

      - How was the first day? - he questioned, regular optimism present in his voice. Steve had remained the same, maybe it was that which made him believe the spectre of the boy Bucky was could be revived. He seemed to forget dead people can’t be revived. 

      - It was good, went to Coney Island.

      - Coney Island? - Steve muted the TV, contorted face expression settling into his youthful features. - I thought you were going to guard her door.

      - She wanted to see Coney Island. Couldn’t let her go alone?

      - Didn’t her personal assistant tell you she couldn’t leave? - he had been noisey, he had looked into Bucky’s contract. He told himself it was just in case, just in case Bucky needed his help. - You don’t want to get in any trouble, specially with agencies. They’re the devil.

      - I’ll take it into consideration. - his skin tightened as he smiled a tight straight line. 

      - Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m watching a series Sam recommended. 

      - I think I’m gonna just go to sleep.

Steve nodded allowing Bucky to return to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, a bed, side table and wardrobe, nothing else. No mirrors and no windows, silence, grey and black bedding, no decoration rather than a postcard his sister had sent him during the war framed in a plastic frame. No glass, Steve wanted nothing around he could harm himself with. It was almost like living in an insane asylum. 

He looked at the little teddy bear in his hands before placing it on the side table, a little smile on his face. A Coney Island memento indeed. 

The morning came rushing like the rain which fell against Y/N’s bedroom glass window. She turned around in her bedding, pushing her knitted quilt up to her nose, the scent of fresh crisp cotton invading her senses. The mood would’ve remained the same comfortable, early morning type had it not been for her comforter being yanked off her without any warning. Through the fogginess of morning sight, she could make out Ms. Olson in her traditional black suit co-ord. She thought it fitting, considering her morning was now ruined.

     - Get up. We have much to do. - she barked like an infuriating dog.

     - But I thought I had the weekend off.- Y/N rubbed the sleep of her eyes, sitting up, quilt covering her body. 

     - You have last mine commitment. Now run along and change into something more ... - he analysed her before gazing her face, tight expression settling in. - Enchanting. 

She left Y/N in the bedroom, clenching her bedding as she looked around the place she’d rather be. Nevertheless, she rose from her bed and walked up to her wardrobe grabbing the first dress she could find and a pair of heels. Her routine during work was different, she normally showered, got her makeup done, dressed and then out of the door. Mechanic, controlled, with Ms. Olson asking her to hurry up. In a split second she returned to the living room, bag held on her shoulder, sunglasses in hand as she prepared to walk out with Miss Olson.

    - You should’ve put some product on your hair. The ends look dry. - Miss Olson commented as they walked outside. She looked around hoping Bucky would be around but it was just her and Miss Olson. 

    - Is Mr. Barnes not coming? 

    - It’s a dress rehearsal. - Y/N froze in her mind. Dress rehearsals were supposed to be better than fittings but after her last experience she really wasn’t in the mood for another experience with the director.

Time seemed to stop, freeze in spot as she stepped inside the car. No noise, no sound, even colour seemed to fade as the car drove faster and faster. She wondered what she could do, open the door, roll over, maybe do it like what she had seen in Lady Bird but the driver always kept the door fully locked and Miss Olson always had her eye on her like Sauron’s Eye.

She looked at her phone in her lap, fingers loomed over Bucky’s name. He was employed by her, maybe she could ask him to come over. Maybe if he was there it would be easier. She sent the message hopeful he would reply, but the text bounced back. Looking at the network, she was lacking all the bars on her phone. Sighing, she leaned against the car seat, looking off the window, dark clouds on the blue sky mocking her. 

As the car came to a halt on the same building as before, she almost had to be pulled out the car by Miss Olson. Once inside, Y/N could see him, she could smell his patchouli fragrance as he wrapped his arm around her. She stood once again in front of the camera lights, muffled cries in her head as she was squeezed into a corset and a then a body con dress. Her eyes were blinded by the lights, behind those lights Miss Olson and Mister Powell gazing at her. Her hand slide down her collarbones to her lap, feeling the fabric as the cameras kept flashing, locking her in a case of lights. 

Once the lights dimmed, she could see them looking down at her, almost five feet tall, mumbling she couldn’t hear as one of the costume designers helped her out.

     - Costumes are looking fantastic. - the director walked up to her, hand wrapping itself around her waist, raising up to lay just below her breast. - Maybe you should try and cut some weight. You would look a bit better.

     - We’ve already started a diet plan. - Miss Olson added. - Not to worry, Mr. Powell. Y/N is fully invested in this movie.

She remained caged in the conversation, being moved by someone back onto the car and dropped at home. She looked around her hallway, wondering if it had always been this cold. As she opened the door to her home, she noticed the jar of flowers the director had sent her on her kitchen balcony. White carnations in a crystal clear jar. She stormed to the kitchen, ripping the tag of the carnations. To my perfect leading lady. The handwriting wasn’t his, probably his assistant. 

When had it all gone so wrong? Why did it felt wrong? Why did the flight felt like a burning crash? When did it all get so screwed up? 

She wrapped her hands around the glass jar, hands trembling, the sound of her ring hitting against the glass being the only thing she heard before a shattering sound filled her mind. It was fast, too fast but she threw the jar against the wall, watching as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, falling into the ground like small diamonds. She thought it would make her feel better but instead she feel to the ground, trying to gather the pieces together as guilt embraced her. 

    - Y/N?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi​ @emzd34​

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Strawberries On A Summer Evening

A soft imagine in which YN is one of the extras in the watermelon sugar music video and Harry can’t take his eyes off of her [2.2K Words] I hope you all enjoy this lovelies make sure to stream watermelon sugar! Masterlist

“And cut!” The director shouted, “That’s great ladies, go get yourselves some water and then we’ll go again in ten minutes. Harry can I run through a few things with you?” You made your way over to the table where bottles of water waited for you and the rest of the cast. There were spare slices of watermelon lying about, but you weren’t sure if you could face eating any more watermelon after the amount you had got through during filming. It was your first high profile job, the other music videos and projects you had been in were mainly for unsigned artists, so being in the Harry Styles’ music video was a pretty big deal. All the girls taking part were beautiful and so lovely to talk to, at first you had felt extremely out of your depth, but they had all gone out of their way to make you feel incredibly welcome.

“So we need a few more shots of you and the extras on the beach before we do the shots on the benches,” Blake, the creative director explained.

“Sounds wonderful, do you know who that girl is?” Harry replied, gesturing towards you as you spoke to a couple of members of the cast.

“Not sure, I think Lambert recommended her,” Blake told him, “We’ll be back on in five.” Blake walked off leaving Harry gazing at you, the sun capered over your skin, quite frankly Harry was in awe, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you during filming, he was bold enough to look right at you when he was singing, but you were yet to approach him. He didn’t want you to think he was coming on too heavy so he just left it, it wouldn’t exactly be a great first impression to ask for your number straight away, whether he was Harry Styles or not.

“Hey Lambert how's it going?” Harry asked his stylist as he approached him for an outfit change.

“Things seem to be shaping up well, I reckon your fans will go mad for this video.” He replied, handing Harry a new outfit, Harry Lambert had known Harry for a while now, and they were pretty close, meaning he could read him like a book, “But you didn’t come over here to ask me about that did you?” Harry looked up at his stylist with a confused look on his face, “You wanted to ask about YN didn’t you? The girl in the blue bikini.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked, pretty impressed by his friend’s skills of deduction.

“Many reasons, firstly you’ve literally been staring at her throughout the whole shoot, you’re even doing so now, secondly the way you bounded over here like a puppy with a look inyour eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, and thirdly I had a bet with Blake that you would ask me about her.” Harry Lambert smirked, folding and putting away Harry’s outfit.

“If this stylist thing doesn’t go anywhere for you Lambert I recommend you become a private investigator.” Harry laughed at his friend.

“You are going to talk to her aren’t you?”

“What, now?” Harry asked.

“There’s no time like the present.”

Harry shuffled across the sand awkwardly to where you were sitting on a step reapplying sunscreen. “Is this seat taken?” Harry asked, gesturing to the space on the seat beside you.

“Help yourself,” you smiled, rubbing suncream up and down your arms.

“How are you finding the shoot so far?” Harry asked, leaning back on the steps, the warm breeze from the sea hitting both of your faces.

“It’s been good, everyone’s so lovely, I think I expected everyone to be strictly professional, but I’m having a lot of fun, this is my first video shoot for a signed artist you see,” You explained.

“Really? Well I heard you came highly recommended.

“Been talking about me have you Styles?” Harry felt put on the spot, you had only known each other for a few minutes and you were already keeping him on his toes.

“No, I um, well-” Harry stuttered, unable to think up a plausible excuse.

“I’m messing with you, the last artist I worked with knows your stylist, he sent him my portfolio and it went from there.” You assured him, he was different to most men you had spoken to before, yes he was as charming as the media said he was, but he was also clearly nervous, stumbling over his words and offering you small smiles every so often. “Nice sunglasses by the way.” You told him as you struggled to rub sunscreen into your back.

“Thank you, do you want me to help you with that?” Harry asked politely, clearly not wanting to overstep the mark.

“If you don’t mind.” You replied, he took the bottle from your hand, squeezing some of the cream into his hand before slowly rubbing it up and down your back, his hands felt strong against your back which sent shivers up and down your spine, he made sure to cover your shoulders too, gently rubbing the suncream along your shoulders, his fingers lightly dancing along your collarbone.

“I think that’s all done, wouldn’t want my leading lady getting burnt now would I?” Harry smiled, admiring how well your bikini complimented your figure, but he didn’t mention it because he had just rubbed sunscreen into your back, and any other sudden advances could be too premature.

“Leading lady eh? Can I put that on my resume?” You teased.

“I mean one of my leading ladies, you look wonderful, you all do,” Harry stuttered, you were having that effect on him again, when you looked at him whilst he talked all he seemed to do was trip over his words, “We should probably get back down to the set, they’ll probably call time on the break in a minute.”

Filming was resumed as you and the rest of the extras laid sprawled across picnic blankets, Harry in the middle of you all. As the director shouting action Harry’s eyes were on you, “Baby, you're the end of June, I want your belly and that summer feelin' getting washed away in you.” As he sang to the music blaring out of the surrounding speakers he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as the two of you lay opposite each other, he sang the words to you, there was no question about it, he was definitely singing it to you, you bit your lip in response, which ultimately sent shivers up Harry’s core. “Harry that’s great, keep working with that!” Blake called from behind the camera, “Yep Harry get closer to YN please, the camera is loving that!” Harry moved towards you, you adjusted your positioning so that his body was sprawled across her as he sang into the camera, and clearly neither of them had any complaints about the arrangement. Harry could feel your heartbeat and it was truly comforting, he could also smell the scent of your perfume that was a mixture of strawberry and vanilla, whatever it was he thought that it’s sweetness suited you perfectly.

Filming had come to an end and the sun was slowly setting over Malibu beach, most of the cast had already left, with flights to catch for other jobs, but you were still there, talking to a few of the other girls about your previous jobs, “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, could I possibly steal YN away from you?” He asked, you turned to look at you, the slight wind catching the ends of your hair, he thought your smile was beautiful, but the golden rays of sunlight made it even more so. “Did you have a good day today?” Harry asked as the pair strolled along the edge of the beach, the waves lapping up onto their bare feet as they walked.

“It was incredible, everyone is lovely, I really enjoyed it,” You smiled, he was a little bit taller than you, so you would glance up to talk to him, taking in every inch of him as you did.

“I hope you don’t think of me as overstepping the mark, but I’m inviting some friends back to my house for some drinks and some food, you are more than welcome to come.” Harry told you, somehow he had gained more confidence in talking to you since your conversation on the steps, well lying across someone’s chest is a pretty plausible reason to get closer to someone.

“See I could interpret that in one of two ways, either that’s you telling me you are having friends over and I could come, or that’s you indirectly asking me to come to your house.” You replied, running through the soft waves of the sea.

“Yeah, it would be the latter.”

Harry’s house was impressive, really impressive, it made your apartment look like a shoebox in comparison, but the company was what completed it. Harry’s friends were lovely,most of them were from the shoot, meaning their faces were familiar, you had been there quite a few hours and honestly Harry was fine with it, you slotted in with his friends perfectly, like you had known them all for ages. He made a conscious effort to check that you were alright and kept offering to top up your drink if you wanted him to. After a lengthy conversation with the group about the best ice cream parlours in Santa Monica you realised it was just gone 2AM and you should probably be getting back to your airbnb. You excused yourself from the conversation, making your way out into the grand hallway of Harry’s home, putting your shoes back on along with your denim jacket. “Leaving so soon?” You heard Harry say as he appeared in the doorway.

“It’s 2AM, and I have a job in less than six hours.” You explained, your head feeling weary as a result of the constant sun exposure mixed with the two glasses of wine.

“I could drive you if you like,” Harry offered, desperate to spend more time with you.

“You’ve had like five glasses of wine, do you want to get stopped by the police or something?” You replied, “I’ve already ordered an Uber.”

“Well will I see you again?” Harry asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?” Harry asked.

“Whether or not you ask me on a date.” You replied.

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry asked, unable to hide the massive grin on his face.

“How does Friday sound?”

                                                       ***

And there you were, spending your Friday evening on a date with none other than Harry Styles. You were wearing a white summer dress, while Harry wore a yellow patterned shirt, buttoned halfway, being the hopeless romantic he was, he had taken you back to the beach where you first met, accompanied by a picnic that of course featured watermelon pieces and strawberries. “I’ve got a lot of memories on this beach you know.” Harry told you, admiring you as you dipped a strawberry in the melted chocolate.

“Is that so?” You smiled, glancing at the butterfly tattoo that poked through his shirt.

“Yeah, we filmed the band’s first music video here when I was like seventeen,on this very balcony,” he declared, gesturing at the beach house you were sat on, “and we filmed watermelon sugar here obviously, which is where I met you.”

“I like the last one the best,” you replied, but I can think of a new one that could trump it.” You replied.

“And what might that be?” Before he could say a word your lips were on his, taking each other in, the sweet taste of strawberries lingered on your lips as Harry kissed you softly, his hands wandering up and down your body, “You know something, I think that might be my new favourite memory sugar.” Harry whispered, pulling away from your kiss.

“Did you just call me sugar?” You giggled.

“Yeah, because you’re sweet like sugar.”

                                                       ***

“H baby, the fans are going mad for it!” You called from the kitchen, sat at a barstool at the kitchen island, four months had passed since your date and you and Harry had only got closer. The last few months had been a whirlwind, so much so that Harry had asked you to isolate with him, he got lonely easily, and the idea of living with you was enough to make lockdown pass quickly.

“They like it do they?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing your neck softly, “What did your mum think of it?”

“I think she liked it, she said that her friends from work thought it was erm, interesting.” You giggled.

“I’m glad she enjoyed it sugar.” He replied, squeezing you tightly.

“I’m quite surprised she was so positive about it, considering it was basically a fully clothed orgy.” You laughed, holding onto his arms.

“Excuse me, it was a very tastefully executed orgy thank very much.” Harry told you, spinning the bar stool so that you faced him, “But what was your favourite bit sugar?”

“You, all of you.” You whispered, placing kisses along his jawline, “As lovely as it is reading what your fans think, how about I show you how it’s done.” You continued, knowing the feelings it would stir up in Harry, “Bedroom?” You muttered into his ear.

“Bedroom.” He replied, scooping you up into a bridal carry, trying to get you up the stairs to the bedroom quicker than you could say Watermelon Sugar High.

[romanceboys]

(interview) w korea september issue 2020 — reptile

1. i was surprised to learn that this is your 13th year since debut. within a company, the years almost reflect the experience of a vice department head. that’s right. though there are things i’m seeing for the first time at this point, i think there’s a lot that has remained the same. shall i tell you something funny? early in the year, i transformed into my debut appearance from when i was 16 with a bowl haircut and had my picture taken. i put it up on instagram and as i watched my fans briefly mistake it for an old picture, i thought to myself ‘well at least my face hasn’t aged much yet.’ haha. 2. today, i get to meet one of the personalities i’ve been very curious about personally. how should i put it, you seem like a person who possesses a perfect narrative. oh my, thank you. 3. maturing steadily after debuting with shinee in middle school, you broke away from your image as the group’s youngest and instead donned the clothes of a solo musician. all 5 of your solo albums have been recorded as hits. now you are a member of superm that has gone global. even a narrative within a coming-of-age novel could not be as sturdy as this.  when i look back on my life, i find it quite fascinating. i entered the company at the age of 13, and this year i turned 28. i’ve lived half of my life as a singer, i realise this when i think ‘i’ve run along the same path for a long time’. i think... i’ve been very greedy. it was through this greed that i was able to debut in a team called shinee, and consequently receive solo plans. once, producer lee sooman told me to bring him a recording of any pop song. wondering ‘what’s going on?’ i prepared for it and submitted, and soon after my solo album was released. thinking back, it must’ve been a test. i felt a sense of accomplishment in these things. that too very deeply, of course luck was on my side too. 4. a methodical company like sm couldn’t have proposed a solo career so lightly. there were a couple of tell-tale signs as far as i could tell. my singing parts were little during debut. after all taemin had the image of the one in charge of dancing. then my parts started to increase gradually, this could’ve been one of the signs. back in the day i used to stay back in the practice room till dawn. the employees working late would see me and the word probably went around. they must have felt sorry for me. a skinny boy practising by himself till dawn (laughs). 5. were you the type to stay back later than the rest in the practice room? i would go to the practice room as soon as we wrapped up our schedule. i’d practice till sunrise then return to the dorm and prepare for the next schedule immediately, i spent a long time doing this. 6. it was at the time of ‘sherlock’ in 2012 that your stage presence started to shine in shinee’s stages. thereafter, it seemed that you enjoyed your time on stage thoroughly. when did you begin to realise that only you were in command of your own stage? there were a couple of times... sherlock was one of them. sherlock was an album that came out when i was 20, right after becoming an adult, it was then my attitude towards performance changed. in those days i challenged myself to ‘not to do what was expected/fixed.’ usually our gestures at certain sections of the song are fixed beforehand, from sherlock onwards however i tried my hand at different things without reserve. it was my way of approaching the audience with sincerity, and my way of improving in the future. back then i would notice variations (in my performance) everyday when i monitored myself. 7. frankly, isn’t it difficult for someone to have made such a prominent leap? i think it might have been because of the long hiatus before sherlock. i was able to prepare well so my growth was likely more obvious when i stood on stage after a long time. how should i put it, my members were very stimulating for me. since the hyungs aren’t ordinary people (laughs). this is something i’m confident about, even if you say that most of the shinee members are main vocalists, none of us is inferior to the other, everyone is so talented. with these thoughts verbatim ‘i must survive in here,’ ‘i need to finish what i started,’ i practiced. i couldn’t not have made the leap with such stimulation and not to mention my greedy nature (laughs). spending time together with the members made me realise that we started to resemble each other in some aspects, thanks to them i was able to broaden my perspective and become aware of my undiscovered talents. 8. the prologue single ‘2 kids’ of your third album ‘never gonna dance again’ released in august. as i was listening to the song, i suddenly became curious about the lyricist and looked them up. my impression was that the language of the lyrics was raw and honest. the lyricist turned out to be you. my intention was to include everyday, colloquial speech. i’ve written poetic and abstract lyrics before, but while working on ‘2 kids’ i wanted the listeners to easily grasp the emotions at once. since i’ve released many songs like ‘danger’ with vivid concepts and sensual performances, i expected there to be some distance between me and the public. i found that i shouldn’t stray too far. in any case, i’m a pop singer. i thought to myself let’s meet the public halfway, and the result was the lyrics for ‘2 kids.’ it’s the brightest of all my title tracks (laughs). 9. i find two interesting points here. first, you are completely aware of your identity as a pop singer, second, to do that you work hard to keep close to the public. of course there are times when it doesn’t work out (laughs). for instance, when we’re deciding on the title track for a shinee album, my opinions always diverge from the members’. after listening to our fourth album title track ‘view,’ i said ‘no way, it can never be this!’ (laughs). what i’m after is, how shall i put it... there is a side to me that wants to experience things profoundly. for example, if i were to express love, instead of depicting it one-dimensionally, i’d prefer to do it maniacally. i like taking it one step further to appear twisted.  10. that’s amusing. it’s probably because i’ve seen your easy-going appearance on tv a lot, i would have never guessed for you to approach things ‘deeply’. profound people tend to be like that. ‘multi’ people are able to do several things at once, i can’t do that. i have to dig into things deeply at a time. that’s why when my members and i receive the same schedule notice, i’m the only one who always forgets it (laughs). 11. oho, this makes me curious about your taste in pop culture.  i really like the british drama <black mirror>. i get hooked on the unusual. like mind-boggling things? i used to watch movies that weren’t popular because such movies are less likely to repeat contents that have already been consumed. but then i slowly began to enjoy light films as well. these days i leave a movie running in the background while i do other things. back when i would look for an independent film or thriller of my liking, i’d get extremely exhausted after watching it. they require so much focus that they sap my energy. 12. we were talking about lyrics but somehow ended up here (laughs). if you were given the opportunity to write lyrics again, what kind of story do you want the lyrics to convey? i like philosophical lyrics. for instance, a song called ‘soldier’ from my solo album deals with religious content, it varies from time to time of course but well if i were to write again... i think about this a lot these days. i want to change myself, i want to shake off my image uptil now and be reborn again. 13. why is that? i want a colour that is more concentrated and unique. as if i'm debuting again, i want to show something completely new that i had not before. 14. but aren’t your comebacks always novel? a musician like you who does diverse and experimental concepts is rare. is that so? sure the concepts are always new but... these days i think about how i want to change myself as a person from the very inside. instead of putting a facade on display, i have a thirst for wanting to show a more humane, genuine appearance. all humans experience moments of weakness and dysfunction. i think these moments definitely hold some beauty in them. the moment a person breaks down. it’s the only way one can get up and overcome difficulties again, i believe showing these sides of me, all of me, unabashedly is a path i need to walk as an artist now. 15. honestly, i’m excited for your third album because i heard this album reflects your ideas the most. what aspects of the production were different this time? firstly, i personally cast and liaised with the music video director. i thought it was important to work with the director one-on-one by keeping mediators to a minimum. through several meetings we mulled over every single thing like concept, outfit, hair and makeup. i offered my opinions too: ‘because i’m thinking of leaving a connecting link in the prologue, since there are two albums that would release following ‘2 kids,’ i want to drop certain keywords in the music video.’ fans usually call this a ‘bait’ (laughs). 16. the choreography stood out the most in the ‘2 kids’ music video. you weren’t simply moving to the rhythm, rather weren’t you moving your body guided by emotions? actually there were barely any plans to include dancing scenes. but i thought you never know so i quickly prepared a choreography the day before i left for paris. initially, i had a ‘dramatised’ (borrowing elements from drama) choreography in mind, but the director was expecting something modern. in the end, we expressed it well with a choreography that the director and i came up with after finding the perfect common ground. 17. personally i think a dramatised choreography would have been quite alright because ‘2 kids’ is a universal love song. i told the director i wanted to look miserable and pathetic through and through, like falling into a bottomless pit, wrecked, to be found waking up in the middle of the street, that would do too. why did i want to be that wrecked? i don’t know. there’s just a lot that exists within me. and i might have wanted to express that.... 18. with your first solo mini album <ace> you proved your grit as a solo musician to the public, and i believe your second album <move> reified your colour. i think taemin is a musician who doesn’t need to prove himself anymore. having reached this status, you’re releasing your next album <never gonna dance again>. did you ever think that this album could be it? rather, i hope that this album can be my ‘turning point.’ just as how it was during sherlock, i hope this time it changes my identity completely, as an individual and as a performer. people might like this album or find it mediocre, but i try not to care about these things now. 19. were you the type to stress over feedback? yes. because there are many people who are uncomfortable with change. but then i realised we’d never be able to free ourselves from within if we continued to be tied down. so now i’m trying to notice these things less. 20. have you ever had this thought? that looking back, the experimental has always revolved around you. as i said before, i think there is a lot of something within me (laughs). people have recognized that, there’s a lot i want to do. there is a greed for wanting to be different from others. it’s not that i want to ‘appear’ different but truly be different. 21. do you think there is an aspect of you that others can’t follow? i can’t seem to figure it out. i’m looking for it. however, my satisfaction level with myself tends to be low. and it’s something that has been guiding me till now. 22. what helps you recharge the most? i like lower-body bathing so much (laughs). as soon as i get into the bath, i automatically end up going ‘euu’ ‘aah.’ i soak my body completely, light up a scented candle, then let my body warm up like this. 23. while watching your vlog-like youtube content taem-log, i wondered ‘does he have an affinity for household goods?’ since the camera often captured your surroundings, i noticed pretty glasses and a colourful coffee machine adorning your cupboard. not at all. my mother did all of that (laughs). she’d say ‘this would suit taemin~’ then set it up prettily for display on the shelves. sometimes i do think i’d like to furnish my house with antiques if i were to move in the future. this is a bit funny but i find the houses in old horror movies so pretty. 24. i saw a bottle of moët & chandon in your refrigerator, is champagne your regular choice of alcohol? i rarely drink. i usually receive gifted alcohol quite a lot, it all goes to my father (laughs). my mother brought the moët & chandon and left it in there. i asked her to leave a pretty bottle in there at least for decoration purposes, so she probably brought it just for that? (laughs). 25. what kind of a person is 28-year-old taemin? i sort of want to set things ablaze. i want to put up a spectacular finale of the opening act. 26. how do you want to be remembered as a musician? as a great person. i say this knowing it sounds a bit grandiose but it’s my mission.  27. i can see it. the bigger you become the larger the impact you can have on society. i will become that person. so that many people can hear the message i want to convey.

translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit (source)

[newobsessionweekly]

Behind the scenes 🌿

@ecmoab said: “Hey, i Hope you are taking requests. I was wondering if you could write more Aron imagine maybe with y/n being part of elite cast with of behind the scene or interview. “

a/n: I hope it’s alright and you like it! Enjoy and stay safe everyone! Lots of love!! 🌿❤️ word count: 1.445

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

The filming was finally over and the last day on set literally made everyone cry. It was so beautiful to work with so many amazing people and they are like a family to you. Spending almost a year filming, laughing and crying beside them made you finally belong somewhere. You watched the first seasons and loved all the characters, but when you entered in the Élite family so many things have changed. Starting with the plot and ending with the cast. Ander, Omar, Rebeka, Samu and Guzmán remained in the scenario because they have an important liaison role to tie the stories. You were happy because since the first episode of the first season you adored Arón’s character and you wished his story to go on. 

“Okay guys, we have a shooting programmed Friday and Monday an interview for Cosmopolitan España. I want everyone there on time for the hair, make up and changing, alright?”

You all nodded from your seats. It was the last time you could do that and all the emotions leaked into the tears you hardly managed to keep from falling.

“Alright. All of you did an amazing job, thank you so much. You are indeed very talented and I can’t wait to work with you again in the future.” the director said and hugged all of you.

That was the moment you cracked and let those tears run down your cheeks. You hugged each and every one of them. Miguel helped you so much through this year and created somehow a bonding. From Omar you learned so many things like how to balance the life on and off the screen and how to switch off quickly to made into the character with no problems. Omar is the funny one of the group and made your days on set a lot easier. And Arón is literally the best. He was there when you needed to laugh or to cry. He was there helping you reach any moods and always there when you needed someone for literally anything. Arón is your best friend and you could say he is  the one you connect with the most. He’s not a sentimental one, he is not going to burst into tears because he has been through this many times, but this time it’s different for him. Not only him was there for you, but you were also by his side more than you thought. He is hoping it’s not the and and he would be able to see you in the future. “Hey beautiful, there’s no need to cry!” Arón hugged you even tighter and that was all you needed. There are not teares caused by the sadness, more like happiness because you helped this amazing people finish such a beautiful project. “Lo siento!” you broke off from the hug as you heard your phone ringing. You smiled at the view of the contact and answered quickly.  “Feliz cumpleaños, cariño! Te quiero mucho!” the voice of your mother made you smile as you exited the building, but frozed at the image in front of your eyes. “Gracias, mama! Yo también te quiero mucho, pero tengo que ir!” as soon as you ended the call, the cast sang “Feliz cumpleaños” to you, along with the Mariachi. You heard Arón singing next to you then felt his hand going up and down on your back. Itzan approached with a cake in his hands with your name and candles on it. You stood there shocked and smiling like dumb. You haven’t told anyone it’s your birthday, you didn’t like surprises at all but you enjoyed that moment. ------- The Monday morning found you still hungover trying to recover from the night before. Your head hurts like hell, you still have this horrible feeling that you are going to threw up in any moment and your eyes burned so bad but you needed to keep them opened.

Almost fell asleep on the chair while the hairdresser was playing with your hair, and despite the make-up artist made you look like spick and span, you still couldn’t manage to feel acceptable. The party ended around four in the morning and until you got home, it remained only three hours left for sleep. “You look like you’ve been hit by the truck.” Arón entered the trailer and sat down on the chair next to you while the make-up artist made him look alive as well. He has his eyes hidden behind the black glasses, but you could tell he just have woken up because of his hoarse voice. You laughed, “I’m surprised you could got up from bed after how much you drank last night.” “What can I say, (y/n)? It was a successful party, but I’m a serious man and I would never be late somewhere.” he laughed and waited for you.  It was indeed a successful party, you had so much fun. You celebrated your party at some club in the centrr of Madrid where everyone danced all night, alcohol was pouring almost without stopping and no one wanted to leave. These people gave you so much more that their friendship, they gave you some unforgettable moments.  He laughed as you opened the door from the trail, “Well the beast it’s gone. Welcome back, beauty!” “You don’t look either like you were drunk as a fiddler a few hours ago!” you smiled and let a sigh out. “What’s wrong?” “It’s my first interview and I’m scared as hell.” you let your head down embarrassed. “Hey, don’t worry.” you only picked up your head at the sight of a pair of Vans. He embraced you with all his warmth. “ It’s just like a test, alright? But one you didn’t have to study for because you already know the subject.”

It felt so good staying in his arms, with your head on his chest, here between the trails. The sun above warmed a little bit more the atmosphere and you could hear the other chattering not far from here. “Yeah, but I’m so lame at tests.”

“Ok, let’s think otherwise.” He rubbed your back. He knows that this is the easiest way you’d calm down. “Imagine it as someone asking questions because they want to know more about you. Like a date, you know?”

“I’ve never been on a date before”, you admitted.

He laughed, “Really? With what kind of blind and stupid men did you spend your time?”

You felt embarrassed. Was he just laughing in your face right now? You tried to get out of the embrace, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Wait, don’t pull away... not yet.” You distanced a little so you could look at him, but still remaining in his arms, “What happened?” “No, nothing happened, I just...I can’t talk or think properly when I look into your eyes. “ he laughed nervously. “You are the most beautiful, kind, smart person I have ever encountered. “ “Wait are you flirting with me right now?” “No, definetely not.” he has the most memorable manner of showing sarcasm. It was so natural like he was born with it. “ But last night I was too drunk and I didn’t said or done much. But you are damn beautiful and that guy is so puta suerto.”

“What are you talking about?” you shook your head. “What guy?”

“The one you danced almost all night.” you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring his face, his eyes, his lips. Everything is perfect at his man.

You laughed at how sweet he is, “That’s my brother, tonto!”

His face changed when he realised and stared at your lips for a little, “Well, I guess he wouldn’t mind If I would kiss you right now.”

“He wouldn’t, but what about me?” you like to play with him.

“Oh, amor, I know you wanted to kiss me for a long time. Your body betrayed you.”

He didn’t get you any chance for a response and attacked your lips in the sweetest way. You kissed him back with as much passion as he did and couldn’t hold a big smile when you both pulled away because of the lack of air. The second time you kissed him, but someone interrupted it.

“Guys, we are next in five!” Omar showed up to the trails, concerned about your disappearing. Or maybe your never appearing. “Oh, you’ve been busy, I see.” He winked at you, but closed the distance, coming between the two of you and resting his arms on your shoulders. “You can continue this later, but now we have an interview to do!” he made you laugh and roll your eyes at the same time.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 8: The Little Prince and His Flower

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry must return to Holmes Chapel, Y/N is upset he went without her, and family drama is not family-only.

Word count: 10k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

What to expect in this chapter: Gemma/Isaac, Niall/?, Ruby(???), and a graveyard ‘date’

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Isaac closed his umbrella, almost too caught up in what had happened to realise it'd stopped raining since Gemma had left. His mouth opened to answer Emilia’s question, but his brain was stuttering, unable to keep up.

He'd kissed Gemma.

No, she had kissed him. He didn’t know why she’d done it, but did it matter? He'd kissed her back and he'd liked it. He'd kissed his best friend’s sister, who had a boyfriend, a shitty one, still, it didn’t justify what he’d done.

If Harry knew about this—

His stomach twisted into knots as his palms started to sweat. Harry couldn’t know about this. They were finally on good terms again. Isaac couldn’t fuck this up. Had Emilia seen the kiss? Would she tell Harry if she had?

Isaac took a deep breath to ease his mind. To Emilia, he said, “I came to see you. You didn’t show up for the shoot, Emi.”

“I lost my phone and I thought the shoot was next week.” She gave an apologetic grin. “I’m very sorry.”

Her apology didn’t sound sincere, but now he had bigger problems to worry about. With an impersonal tone, he said, “If you’re not interested anymore, you should’ve let me know so I could find someone else.”

“No, no, I still want to model for you!” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist before he even thought about ending the conversation. His alarmed expression got her blushing as she hid her hands behind her back, staring at her feet. “I’d been...um...I’d been busy preparing for my audition this morning. That was why I took two days off in a row, and then my boss called me here today because the shop got overcrowded.”

“An audition? For a movie?”

He hoped his startlement didn’t offend her. There was nothing wrong with her auditioning for a movie; she used to go to film school after all. But not so long ago she’d told him she’d already given up on her dream of becoming an actress, so he was curious to know how that passion had sparked again.

“Yes, a real movie!” she exclaimed, her green eyes twinkling like Harry’s whenever he talked about his job, or Y/N.

As if Emilia could read Isaac’s mind, she added, “Harry encouraged me to attend casting calls. I’ve done some commercials and modelling before, so a movie would be a nice challenge. He also gave me the contacts of some directors—” His dubious look stopped her midsentence, and her voice went flat, “I didn’t get them from his assistant. He actually gave them to me.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. Please don’t explain.” With a frustrated exhalation, she peered around him. “Was that Gemma who just left?”

The hair stood up at the nape of his nape when he met her questioning gaze. Convinced that she’d seen the kiss, he had to admit, “Yeah, it was Gemma.”

Her eyes went round as she considered him in a sceptical manner. “Are you two dating?”

“No. She has a boyfriend.”

Gemma was so private that not many people knew she had a boyfriend. For all he knew, he could’ve lied to Emilia and gotten away with it even if she’d witnessed the kiss. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. He had a strict rule against lying. No matter how trivial you thought your lie was, you’d have to cover it up with more lies, and before you knew it, the lie had become too big, like a snowball rolling down a hill. The damage it would cause was inevitable.

Nodding slowly, Emilia ahhhhed in silence and concluded with, “Too bad. I’d love to talk to her.”

He waited for her to continue, but then she told him she had to get back to work and would text him with her new number. Just like that, she disappeared into the shop, leaving him in bafflement.

Emilia was the most curious person he’d ever met, so if knowing Gemma’s relationship status was a good enough answer for her, then she must’ve seen the kiss. What he couldn’t explain was how cool she’d been about it, as if him — her half-brother’s best friend — kissing her half-sister, who had a boyfriend, was the most normal thing in the world.

Either she hadn’t seen anything, or she was a much better actress than he thought.

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Y/N had been a fool to think she would worry less about writing now that she’d found the perfect literary agent. For the last few months, she’d been stressed out about pitching her manuscript, but ever since she’d had Laura, her biggest concern had circled back to the manuscript itself.

Laura was a perfectionist, which was good, because she never made mistakes. But she expected the same thing from all of her clients, and Y/N would do anything to please that woman. Even if it meant pulling an all-nighter and living off on tea and protein bars just to finish another scene to move on to the next.

After their first meeting, Laura had emailed Y/N a very long list of what she ‘didn’t like’ about the story. Some scenes were redundant; the drama should be more intense; the plot twists weren’t shocking enough; more sex, more sex, more sex.

Y/N had vowed to herself that she would never, ever, write a generic story just to match a publisher’s bulleted list. Yet here she was, shamefully ticking boxes and changing the entire story as she went. If her characters could step out of the page, they would strangle her in her sleep for how she’d fucked up their lives. But if she was going to have an agent, she had to believe in her agent.

Laura knew what kind of book sold and what didn’t, and at this point, Y/N just wanted her novel to be published. She didn’t care if it wasn’t the best story in her opinion. As long as Laura guaranteed that Y/N’s babies would end up on the shelves in the biggest bookstores in London, Y/N would do anything – and she meant anything – Laura told her to.

“Y/N!”

The voice interrupted her train of thoughts, and she glanced up from her laptop screen to meet Alice’s amused gaze. “You haven’t touched your tea,” Alice said, her grin widened. Only then did Y/N realise her tea had been served a long while ago and already gotten cold. “And maybe stand up and walk around for a bit. How could you sit in one place for three fucking hours? Can you still feel your ass?”

Y/N snorted at the remark and wiggled against her chair. “This ass still feels pretty fine to me.”

“Weirdo,” Alice said, shaking her head.

But Alice did have a point. Y/N had been staring at the screen for so long that the words had begun to look all the same; a short break would do her some good.

Her shoulders sagged as she took off her AirPods, rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms and glanced around the shop. It’d been so crowded when they had arrived this morning. Now, most of the customers had left, and there were only them, a couple at the table by the street-facing window, and three girls in the corner booth, who were laughing and taking selfies.

Alice shot them a disapproving glare before switching her attention back to the novella in her hands — The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Y/N’s mother had read it to her when she was little, and she still remembered the story as if she’d learned it by heart. You knew when a book was good when even Alice, who absolutely hated reading, could not put it down.

Not wanting to disrupt her friend, Y/N quietly pushed away from the table when Alice snapped her head up, her eyebrows scrunched. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta pee.”

Alice gave a dismissive wave, and her eyes were fixed on the book again.

In the bathroom, Y/N took the far back stall, telling herself to finish quickly so she could get back to work. But while cleaning herself, she heard echoes of high heels accompanied by the laughter of the previous group of girls. The door next to hers opened and shut, and the water ran as one girl washed her hands.

“Did she leave already?” asked the one in the stall.

“I think so,” said her friend outside.

“Shame. I thought Harry was gonna show up,” the third girl sighed in disappointment as the water stopped. The toilet flushed, heels clacked against the marble, and the water ran again.

“I saw him in the car park once,” continued the third voice. “He came to pick her up. You should’ve seen her bitchy face. No wonder she’s got no friend but the psycho Alice Young.”

Y/N scowled when the first girl chimed in, “Remember Mandy Torres from English Lit?”

The Mandy who’d pretended to be friends with Y/N and then shit-talked about her behind her back? Yes, she remembered.

“So Mandy invited them to her party because she’s a sweetheart. Then that bitch got insecure, thinking Mandy might steal her man, so she blew up at Many in the library, calling her names and stuff. Two people saw it!”

Y/N could bet these girls knew it was a lie, and still, they chose to believe it so they could have a reason to hate her.

Three of them laughed at the same time, and then the second one said, “Can’t believe she still showed her face after that clip.”

“What clip?” her friend asked, sounding just as confused as Y/N.

Her heart was pounding, and her fingers were clawing at her knees. She didn’t know what clip they were referring to. And why shouldn’t she show her face?

Yes, she and Harry had filmed a sex tape before, but they’d been careful and deleted it right after they’d watched it together. It was impossible that the clip still existed and had gotten leaked.

“Oh, you haven’t seen it? This morning, someone uploaded a clip of Harry Styles and Ruby Ellis dancing together at a party in LA. They were all over each other.”

“Oh my God, they’re definitely fucking again!”

“Can you blame him? Would you pick that whore over Ruby Ellis?”

Their laughter faded into white noise, and soon their footsteps had become mute.

Y/N sat there for a long moment, fists balling against her skirt until she was sure she was alone again. That was when she got on her feet, flushed the toilet and clawed the door open.

Her reflection in the mirror caught her by surprise. She almost didn’t recognise herself from how angry she looked. Taking a deep breath, she stomped to the sink to wash her hands and then dried them with a paper towel before going back to her table like nothing was wrong.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see those girls watching her. They whispered something to each other, probably shocked and embarrassed that she’d heard them say all those terrible things behind her back.

The old Y/N would have stepped out of the stall and put them in their place. But the new Y/N — Harry’s Y/N — wouldn’t put on a show in public and take down her boyfriend’s career and her dignity.

“You okay?” Alice asked when Y/N plopped down in the chair across from her.

Y/N flatly said, “yes,” and put on her AirPods to get back to work. No more distraction. Fuck those girls. Fuck the internet. She didn’t need to see that clip to–

Her phone buzzed once, and she flinched. Cece had sent her a post on Instagram.

Now what? Was she going to check it? Her mind went numb for a second as her fingers froze on the keyboards. She kept staring at the blinking cursor until her anxiety became too much, and she surrendered. She grabbed her phone, swiped right on the notification and placed her thumb on the home button to unlock the screen.

Have you seen this?

No, she hadn’t. And she hadn’t intended to until now.

The thumbnail of the video was too dark for her to make out what it was, but the caption said: WHAT HAPPENED TO Y/N??? With shocked emojis. Three shocked emojis. His fans were freaking out for her, so this might not be good.

Biting a nail, she muted the volume and tapped on the clip to be directed to the post. It was dark at first, but when the pink light started flashing, she could make out Harry’s figure. She knew his drunk dance moves; he was definitely three sheets to the wind here. Then, she caught a glimpse of the dress Niall had criticised the other night. Ruby looked just as drunk as she danced next to Harry, shouting the lyrics of whatever song the DJ was playing.

It was hard to know for sure what was happening here as it was too dark, but a part of Y/N felt relieved because she had expected worse. They were just dancing together, their bodies barely touching, and there were so many people around.

“Shit.”

She jerked her head to the side, and Alice’s face almost gave her a heart attack. Alice was standing beside her, one hand on the back of Y/N’s chair, the other lay flat on the table.

“I don’t care what everyone’s saying. It doesn’t look like he’s cheating on you.”

Y/N’s heart beat faster even though she knew Harry would never cheat. Not on her, nor anyone else. She’d seen how he’d beat himself up for sleeping with Ruby despite her having a boyfriend. He’d made mistakes in the past, but he would never hurt a woman by cheating on her.

Maybe the issue didn’t lie in the fact that everyone was saying he had or was going to cheat on Y/N. Maybe seeing him dance with Ruby – at the big fancy party Y/N had refused to attend – made her feel like he would be happier at places like that, with people like that, people like Ruby and his famous friends.

Her chest sank as she finished the thought, but she still managed to set it aside as she closed her laptop and rose from her seat. “Ready to go, Al?”

“Sure, but can I pee first? I need to pee.”

Alice’s grimace made her giggle as she watched her friend rush to the bathroom.

She began to gather her notebooks and chargers when her phone buzzed repeatedly, and when she saw it was Harry, she picked it up. Something told her he’d just woken up, seen the clip and freaked out. He should freak out. Because she’d almost had a heart attack.

She shoved the rest of her things into her bag and hit the talk button.

“I’ve seen the video, so we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Shit,” he grunted. “Are you mad at me? I swear I was drunk and didn’t know who I was dancing with, but Jeff called me a taxi afterwards and–”

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

When he let out a sigh, she could almost see him close his eyes and put a hand against his chest. “Where are you?”

“At a coffee shop on campus.” She leaned her hip against the table as she turned and made eye contact with one of the girls in the corner booth. The girl turned back to her friends like nothing was wrong, but Y/N knew the bitch was scared to death. To Harry, she said, “I’m heading home though. I’ll see you at the airport tonight, kay?”

“That...won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?” She straightened when realisation hit her. “Harry, where are you?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

She knew it.

“I knew it! I knew you’d go without me.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t want to involve you in my family drama. I’m going to talk to my mum alone, and then–”

She didn’t want to let him finish. “I’m already involved, though. I could help. You might get anxious and say the wrong things. Look how it went with Gemma.”

When he paused, she knew he knew she was right. Still, his stubborn ass would never admit it. “I’m sorry, babe. At least you can focus on your book while I’m not there. Miss you. See you soon.”

The line disconnected. She stared at the screen in disbelief, and text messages from him popped up.

Forgot to say I love you.

I love you.

With a sigh, she stuffed her phone into the front pocket of her backpack and pinched her temples. She hated that she couldn’t stay mad at him, but she wished he hadn’t blindsided her like that.

Whatever. She’d deal with him when he got back tomorrow.

She shrugged on the backpack just in time Alice returned from the bathroom. Alice clumsily threw her things into her nude tote bag and hurried to the door as Y/N preceded. The moment they stepped out into the street, Alice asked, “Did those Kardashian wannabes bother you when I was in the bathroom?”

She was referring to the girls in the corner booth.

“Why’d you think so?” Y/N responded as she kept on walking.

“I saw them glaring at you when we left, and I almost stopped to throw a fist.” Alice swung her fist and frantically apologized to an annoyed pedestrian for almost hitting him.

“Well, they talked shit about me in the bathroom and didn’t know I was there.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve poured drinks on them like I did with Mandy.”

Y/N froze in her tracks, her eyes widened. “You did what with Mandy?”

“I heard her talk shit about you at her party so I poured vodka on her head.” Alice clasped both hands together in front of her chest. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Y/N stared at her friend unblinkingly for a moment, and then crushed her in a fierce embrace. “You’re a good friend, Al. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Laughing, Alice clasped Y/N’s shoulders and pushed away from her. “You’re not going to cry, aren’t you?”

“No, you dick.” She brushed Alice’s hands off. “Lunch?”

“Sure. I’m starving.” With an arm around each other’s waist, they strolled down the busy pavement together.

After lunch in the Vietnamese restaurant right across from Y/N’s block, they ran into Blake outside. He was about to get into his car when he spotted Y/N and waved at her.

This was actually the first time she’d seen him in casual clothes. He always wore suits when he went to work, and workout clothes when he was at home. Today, he wore a black t-shirt with dark blue jeans, his hair uncombed, his smile wide. He looked almost five years younger. Almost like the ‘high school bad boy’ Blake that she remembered.

“Jesus, is that your ex-boyfriend slash neighbour?” Alice dropped her jaw as she fanned herself, and Y/N quickly swatted her on the arm.

Blake rested an arm on the roof of his car as a dimple appeared in his cheek. “Working on a Saturday, Miss Writer?”

“Working everyday, Mr Lawyer.”

Alice elbowed her gently while looking Blake up and down, so she had to add, “This is my friend Alice.”

“Nice to meet you, Alice. I’m Blake.”

Alice caught his hand with both of hers and shook it firmly. “Y/N has said a lot about you.”

“Has she?” Blake arched an eyebrow at Y/N, who scoffed and waved Alice’s comment away.

“Don’t believe her. She’s nuts.”

“Hey!”

Y/N ignored her friend and switched her attention to Blake’s car. He hated driving as much as she did, only because he preferred his motorcycle – which she assumed he’d left in the US – otherwise he would rather walk. And since he didn’t have to work on Saturdays, she took a guess that he was going out of town.

“Where are you going?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

His answer made her flinch. From what she’d heard, his parents didn’t live there anymore. So why would he go there?

“I’m visiting my grandma,” he said before she could ask. “You’ve met her a few times, remember?”

She nodded. His grandma used to love her. After they’d broken up, Y/N had even considered going to his grandma’s house every day so that Grandma Roman would grow attached to her and convince Blake to get back with her. Now she was glad teenage Y/N hadn’t had the nerves to do something so humiliating.

“Y/N, you’re going to Holmes Chapel tomorrow, right?”

Y/N shot Alice a disapproving glare before telling Blake, “Harry and I were gonna go together, but something came up and he had to go without me.”

Had to. Inner Y/N rolled her eyes at the words.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blake said, but she waved it off.

“Don’t be. Tell your grandma I said hi, okay?”

“Okay. Good luck with your writing.”

Her response was simply a dissatisfied hum. Just thinking about spending another night alone in her flat with her laptop could almost make her go insane. She could go out tonight, but she’d feel guilty because she didn’t have a reason to not write another chapter. If she was surrounded by family and friends, however...

“Blake,” she said before he could get into his car. “Can I go with you?”

When Alice dropped her jaw and Blake’s eyes went wide, she continued, “I can sit in the back. I won’t bother you.”

She'd already braced herself for rejection, knowing how much Blake hated being in a car with other people during long drives, even when he was the passenger. He relished the feeling of an adrenaline rush while riding his motorcycle, and had often joked that he’d felt most alive when he might die. Being in a car confined him. So did the company of someone else. It’d been different when they’d been a couple but they weren’t anymore. Now she was just ‘someone else’ to him.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” He flashed a grin that deepened his dimple and caught her by surprise.

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to make you feel uncomf–”

“I don’t mind driving you, Y/N. Get in.” He patted the roof of his car, and Alice aimed a pointed glare at him as if she hadn’t sighed like a schoolgirl when they shook hands.

Although Y/N understood Alice’s concern and was well aware that she would be spending three hours in the car with her ex, going with him sounded like a better idea than taking a taxi.

She hadn’t sat behind the wheel since the accident and had only let Harry drive her around. But somehow she trusted Blake. She’d trusted him with most of her first times, and being in a relationship with him for two years had convinced her that he was a careful driver.

“Y/N!”

The solitary voice caught her by surprise. She whipped around to see Niall crossing the street and stalking toward her with a bubbly grin on his face.

“Is that Niall Horan?” Alice unconsciously dug her nail into Y/N's arm, and Y/N winced as she pulled away.

“What are you doing here, Niall?”

“I had a photoshoot in this area and I thought we should hang out. You know, since we’re officially friends now.” He raked his fingers through his hair and arched his mouth when he noticed Blake. “Hey, man.”

Blake only raised his palm, saying nothing.

“This is Alice,” Y/N said as she gripped Alice’s hard shoulders. “She’s a big fan of yours, so please be nice to her.”

"Nice to meet you," Niall said. "Alice is a pretty name."

When he took Alice's hand and pressed a kiss to it, Y/N thought her friend would just pass out right in front of them. Alice might be bold with Blake, Isaac, and even Harry, but facing Niall, she suddenly forgot how to speak. Which might be a good thing because she said crazy things when she was nervous, and Y/N couldn’t handle more crazy right now.

“I’m sorry, Niall. I’m actually leaving.”

“Oh, where are you going?”

“We’re going to Holmes Chapel,” Blake answered on her behalf, still leaning against his car. He didn’t seem frustrated that she and her friends were wasting his time, and she truly wondered why.

Niall turned back to her with an eyebrow raised. “Weren’t you going with Harry tomorrow?”

“Apparently not,” she huffed. “But don’t worry. I’ll text him to let him know.”

“I can give you a ride.”

Niall pointed to the black Audi parked on the other side of the street. A man in a black suit, buzzed head, twice her size, gave them a cold stare as Niall waved and smiled at him.

“That’s Barry. He’s cool.”

She took a surprised breath, considering Barry for a quick second. “I think I’ll be fine with Blake.”

She would have agreed to go with Niall in a heartbeat, if there was just Niall, and he was driving a less luxurious vehicle. She could already imagine how badly her body would ache when they arrived, as she wouldn’t dare to move a single muscle in his new car, especially when Barry was the one who drove it.

“Okay.” Niall gave a nonchalant shrug as he fished out his phone and made a quick call. “Hey, man.” He gave the scary man across the street a peace sign. “I’ll stay with my friend. You may leave now. Thanks, Barry.”

Y/N watched Niall’s bodyguard/chauffeur get into the shiny Audi, not knowing what to expect when Niall put his phone away and switched his attention back to her.

“Let’s go.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going with you,” he said with a smirk, “and Blake.”

“Can I come, too, please?” Alice interjected as she tugged Y/N’s arm. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse, you won’t even know I’m there.”

“I’m not the one who gets to decide here, Al,” Y/N grumbled.

“Alice and Niall can join us,” Blake interfered, at last. “The more the merrier.”

When Alice started bouncing like a kid in a sweet shop, he mouthed it’s okay to Y/N, and she responded with an apologetic twitch of her lips that was meant to be a smile. If he was only acting to be polite to her friends, she’d feel so shitty.

Blake opened the door on the passenger side for her, but Niall quickly got in and buckled his seatbelt. With a sigh, she joined Alice in the backseat. Something told her that this was going to be the longest three hours she had ever experienced.

.

.

.

Gemma tightened her fingers around her phone. With one hand in her hair, she kept pacing back and forth in her hotel room, the beating of her heart accelerating with each ring. She hated phone calls. There was something so nerve-wracking about talking to someone and not knowing what their true reaction was. However, she knew Asher wouldn’t hold anything back.

When you’d been with someone for two years, you’d figure out their patterns. You could predict what they were going to say or do in a certain situation. And she wished it hadn’t been the case this time as what she was expecting was pretty awful.

She’d always considered Asher’s bad temper a minor flaw, but it hadn’t been easy lately. His business was going down. His dad had decided to stop pouring money into his failed ventures, which was why he’d been spending so much time with his family. He wanted to be on his father’s good side while sweet-talking his mother into helping him.

He was a mama’s boy, like Harry. The only difference was that Harry genuinely loved his family and would never blame Gemma for his own mistakes. Asher, on the other hand, took his exasperation out on her, making her feel like she’d been the cause of all of the bad things that’d happened to him in the last couple of months. She’d been walking on eggshells around him, well aware of how toxic that was, but the idea of ending a two-year relationship was too intimidating.

The ringing abruptly stopped. And so did she.

“Yes?” Asher spoke. He hadn’t heard from her in two days, and that was all she got from him. Yes?

“I have to tell you something,” she said anyway, trying to sound more composed than she looked. Perhaps a phone call was a good idea after all.

“I also have something to tell you. Can I go first?”

“Sure.” As much as she wanted to get this off her chest, the more she delayed, the more time there was to prepare herself for his reaction. She’d never seen anyone confess to their partner that they’d cheated and receive instant forgiveness, not even in movies. It definitely wouldn’t be the case for her and Asher.

“I think we should take a break.”

Her brain slowed down, unable to process that information. Her mouth opened and shut a few times like a goldfish until she could speak. “What do you mean?”

She knew exactly what a break meant. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d actually proposed it, at least not before she told him about the kiss.

“I want us to stop seeing each other for a while.”

“We haven’t seen each other in weeks, Ash.”

“Come on, Gem, you know this is inevitable. We’ve been fighting constantly.” Yes. Because of him. “And I can’t remember the last time we had sex.”

“So you’re suggesting that we take a break so you could fuck other people?”

A long stretch of silence followed her question. Waves of anger splashed over her as she gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t believe she’d been so scared to tell him the truth, and then he’d proposed something like this without any sign of guilt.

“We both need this, Gem.”

“You’re right. We do,” she said despite the lump in her throat. “Goodbye, Ash.”

She ended the call before he could say another word and rushed to open the window. She needed some fresh air, otherwise, she might throw up.

Gripping the sides of the window frame, she took in a sharp breath. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a familiar Prius parked in front of the building. It looked like the one in Harry’s car collection, but wasn’t he in Holmes Chapel right now?

She’d gotten her answer as soon as the door was opened, and Isaac stepped out, phone in his hand. When he brought it up to his ear, her phone started buzzing, and she instantly grabbed it and tapped answer.

“Hello?”

“I’m here. Let’s go,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m driving you, remember?”

“Driving me where?”

“To Holmes Chapel.” His soft laugh melted the coldness remaining in her heart from the phone call with Asher. After an awkward pause, he said, “Oh shit, didn’t Harry tell you? He asked me to pick you up.”

She shook her head even though he couldn’t see. “I said I’d take the train.”

“You don’t have to. Your mum asked me to come for dinner and I just needed a reason to get out of town.”

Something told her Harry hadn’t asked him to pick her up, and she hated how good that made her feel.

When the thought of Asher crossed her mind, she snapped out of her fantasy. This wasn’t right. She was a hypocrite for being angry at Asher and then having butterflies thinking about her brother’s best friend. Clearly she wasn’t going to sit in a car with Isaac for three hours after what she’d done.

“Come on, Gem. We don’t have to talk about it.”

It.

He couldn’t even say the word. Her kiss must have disgusted him. She’d forced herself on him, and he was still nice enough to offer to drive her. He was only doing this because he was nice, because he was Isaac, not because he had feelings for her. Why would she want him to have feelings for her, anyway? She was still with Asher. Kind of. And she would eventually have to tell him that she’d cheated on him and then beg for his forgiveness.

Now that she thought about it, she believed she deserved this. She needed to start acting like a grown woman and dared to face what she’d done.

“Okay, give me a minute,” she told Isaac.

“All right.” A grin could be heard in his voice before the call disconnected. She sighed roughly, tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans as she gathered essential things and quickly headed out.

When Isaac saw her walk toward him from the building, his first instinct was to shove his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, giving her a smile so courteous that it made her skin crawl. He loved giving and receiving hugs, but he didn’t do it with her anymore because she’d crossed the line.

He opened the door on the passenger side for her, and she got into his car, buckled her seatbelt as he got behind the wheel. The door was closed, muffling the traffic noise, and she could hear the pulse in her throat loud and clear.

She had to say something.

“What happened to the Range Rover?”

“Oh, this one’s Harry’s,” he said, his voice casual as he started the engine and drove back onto the street. “He lent it to Emilia so she could go to a movie audition. She asked me to return it.”

The nervousness was washed away by irritation as her face screwed up. “He lends her his cars now? Harry is anal about letting people drive his babies.”

“He did lend it to her. I asked him,” Isaac said with a shrug. “He said she’s basically family now.”

“I need to slap him when I see his stupid face.”

“And I need to watch that. Maybe film it, too,” he chuckled, eyes on the road.

She allowed a goofy smile to play on her lips, which vanished as she started to analyse what he’d said. “Did you meet Emilia today?”

“We did a photoshoot. She’s my new model.”

“Oh,” she said, unsure how she wanted that one word to sound.

Before she could dwell on the idea of him and Emilia, he broke the silence. “Harry said you’d asked him to go alone, but then you changed your mind. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She tucked a strand behind her ear, fighting the urge to look at the side of his face as they talked. “I wanted him to fix the mess that he’d started, but then I realised he was an idiot and would most likely mess things up even more.”

That wasn’t the reason. Harry was no longer the careless kid who randomly brought up Winton and made their mum cry without knowing it. He was an adult and would figure out a sensible way to talk to their mum about Winton and Emilia. So why did Gemma insist on going home?

It took a moment’s thought for her to realise she’d done this out of guilt, and maybe desperation, too. She felt bad about forcing her brother to do the hard work, and at the same time, needed the safety of her family to escape from the stress her relationship had put upon her. She wished she could tell Isaac everything, but she didn’t want to make this trip about her.

“Are you mad at me?” His question brought her back to reality. Only then did she realise they had left the city and were heading onto a country road between large green fields. “Gem, are you mad at me?”

Her heart skipped a beat as she began to fidget with her handbag on her lap. He’d promised that they wouldn’t talk about the kiss. Did he lie to get her into this car?

“No, I’m not.” She winced at how forceful that sounded.

“Are you sure?”

“You said we didn’t have to talk about it,” she snapped and stiffened in her seat when he darted a quick glance her way before focusing on the road again.

He swallowed once. “I just don’t want us to be awkward with each other, Gem.”

“You’re right.” She lowered her face and scratched the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for what I did. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know why you did it.”

He did?

“You had a fight with your boyfriend and you were confused, right?”

“No, I–” She paused, feeling overwrought. “Why aren’t you upset? You should be angry at me.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should!” She almost turned and sat upright if it wasn’t for the seatbelt holding her back. “I kissed you when you didn’t want to be kissed. You should be angry.”

“Gemma,” the sound of her name vibrated with his warm laughter, and she felt her body melting into the leather seat. “I kissed you back, so I’m equally guilty here.”

Had he kissed her back? She couldn’t recall. The comforting scent of his cologne accompanied by the shock and guilt must have dulled her senses. But if he had kissed her back, did it mean he’d wanted her, too?

“Don’t worry,” he said after stealing another glance at her. “I know you’re in a long-term relationship. And I don’t want to mess it up, so let’s pretend it never happened. I think you weren’t aware that you were kissing me. I mean, someone like you would never kiss me.”

“Someone like me?” Her gaze jumped to the side of his face. “What does that mean?”

Thinking she was offended, he awkwardly explained, “That...that was meant to be a compliment. You’re a strong and independent woman. You’re smart, beautiful, funny–”

“Pull over,” she said, her heart pounding in her ears.

A glimpse of horror crossed his face as he faltered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Pull over, Isaac.” Her voice was strained, her eyes intense. The car reached a standstill on the side of the road, and her mind was spiralling out of control as she unbuckled her seatbelt and launched herself across the gearshift. She was on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

His body was stiff as a board when he dropped his gaze to her mouth, making her wonder if he’d been thinking about her since they’d kissed. She knew she had. The memory made her lips tingle as if he’d kissed them again. She wanted him to kiss them again.

They brought their mouths together at the same time. His hands claimed her face to deepen the kiss, and euphoria shocked through her system as she kissed him harder. She fisted the fabric at his chest, pulling him closer while his hands swept down her back, squeezing her hips. In that moment, when they were alone on the empty road surrounded by windy green fields, something that was meant to be wrong, felt like the rightest thing she had ever done.

.

.

.

Harry had been waiting on the porch since he’d gotten the text message from Y/N. His mum had told him to wait inside, but watching the street somehow made time fly faster. Or so he hoped.

He rested his elbows on his knees, face between his palms, unconsciously tapping his right foot. He did deserve this. He’d blindsided her and now she was making him pay by going home with her ex. Fuck that lawyer kid. Who did he think he was? If there hadn’t been Niall and Alice, Harry would have driven all the way back to London to pick her up.

Twenty minutes felt like two hours as he waited, and when he spotted a car from a distance, he immediately bounced onto his feet. But it was Isaac and Gemma in his black Prius, not his Bambi.

“Wow, aren’t you excited to see me?” Gemma sneered as she stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards him.

Isaac greeted Harry with a hug, and Harry pulled away and nodded his head toward Gemma. “You didn’t have to drive her, you know. I could’ve picked her up at the station.”

Silent, Gemma thinned her lips as Isaac rubbed the back of his head. Why were they acting so awkward? Had Harry said something wrong?

“I know what’s going on here.” Harry put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at both of them. “You’re mad at me for lending Emi my car.”

Gemma’s shoulders dipped as she let out a sigh. “Even that name irritates me.”

“Oh, come on, Gem.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, but she pushed him away. “That one is my least favourite,” he said, pointing to the Prius.

A corner of her lips quirked up as she brushed past him. “And you’re my least favourite person.”

Isaac tossed him the key and followed her, but before they made it to the porch, another car entered their street. Harry’s Bambi was here.

“My Bambi’s here!” he squealed like a little kid, making Gemma snort.

“Wait, Smiley’s here?”

“It’s weird that you still call her that, but yeah, Niall’s here, too,” he told Isaac and stalked toward the car which had pulled over in front of his house.

Niall got out first, stretching his limbs before pulling Harry in for an embrace. “You owed me, Harold.”

“I know. Thanks, mate.” Harry let go of Niall to hug Alice. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t either, but here I am. Lovely neighbourhood!” Alice lifted her shoulders as she adjusted the strap of her bag and then lowered her voice to almost a whisper, “Niall’s single, right?”

“Al! What are you whispering about?”

Harry’s gaze jumped to Y/N, who had finished saying goodbye to Blake. When Blake saw him, the kid raised a palm and a smile which looked fake as hell, but Harry managed to keep his calm and returned one just as plastic.

Y/N walked around the car and threw herself into Harry’s arms, holding his face and kissing his lips. He held her flat against him as he kissed her harder. He could hear Niall making a gagging noise, but he didn’t care as long as he got to rub this in Blake’s face. Because he was as mature as a nine-year-old, and he was fine with it.

“Stop eating her face, pervert.”

Gemma’s comment broke him and Y/N apart. He flipped his sister off and, with a smug look on his face, watched Blake’s car drive ahead and disappear at the end of the road. A swat on the chest made his eyes jump back to Y/N.

“You’re in so much trouble, Harry.” Her nose wrinkled, and he wondered if she knew how cute she looked when she made that face. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead when Gemma took their friends into the house.

“I’m sorry, babe. Why didn’t you text me sooner?” he said with a pout. “You waited until you were almost here to tell me you were coming.” With fucking Blake.

“Well, I knew you were going to wait on the porch. Couldn’t make you wait for three hours.”

His heart fluttered as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know me so well, kid.”

“I’m still pretty mad at you,” she said. “But I do have a lot to tell you about.”

“About your book?”

She smiled and nodded. He released a relieved sigh as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I was afraid that you’d be mad at me. The clip and everything.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Would you prefer that I’m mad at you?”

“No.” He shook his head and pecked her lips then either corner of it. “I’m a bad boyfriend. I should’ve driven you, not your stupid ex. Thank God for Niall and Alice.”

“Niall was even worse than you,” she giggled.

He nuzzled her neck, tilting her head up to press a series of kisses to her jaw. When his hands swept from her back to her spine, she snatched his wrists and pinned them to his chest. The way she arched an eyebrow and clicked her tongue made his cock swell against the fly of his pants. When her pupils dilated, he knew she felt it, but she didn’t acknowledge it and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I have to say hi to Marcy and Dad. I’ll come over later, kay?”

“Tell them to join us for dinner.” He tugged her arm, not letting her go just yet. “Bradford and I can bond over our hatred for Blake. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure he’d love to come, consider how much he loves Isaac.”

“Damn it,” he cursed when she burst out laughing and cupped his face to kiss him twice on the cheeks. With a lovesick smile, he watched her pad across her front yard and waited until she’d gone into her house to finally return to his.

His mother was so happy to have so many guests that night. She’d cooked a big meal for everyone. Even Bradford and Marcy came to join them. Just like Harry’s promise, he and Bradford had bonded over their same intense dislike for Blake Roman. Y/N had to stuff their mouths with spaghetti so they would stop talking. Alice had won Niall over with her review about the first book she’d read in her life, and now Niall was reading the first book in his life. Weird, but cute.

What was even weirder, however, was to see his sister being so close with Isaac. They’d been whispering back and forth the whole night, and not once did Gemma mention Asher. Harry didn’t like Asher that much so he didn’t mind, and it was good to see Gemma happy again. He hadn’t seen her smile that big before. His mum, too.

His heart sank to the bottom of his chest as he remembered the reason they were all here. He had to tell his mum about Winton.

She would be so disappointed. She might even cry. And this dinner, all of these jokes, all this laughter would mean nothing when she heard about Winton and Emilia. Harry hated to be the reason the women he loved cry. But if he didn’t tell his mum, and she found out herself, he’d be the shittiest son in the world. This would hurt either way, one less than the other.

Dinner was over soon. While everyone gathered in the living room for a game, Harry and Gemma volunteered to clean up. Just like when they were kids, they did something wrong and volunteered to do the housework so the chance of them being forgiven would be higher. Harry knew what he’d done wrong. He didn’t know why Gemma was here.

“They’re playing Scrabble.”

The voice made him flinch before two arms wrapped around his waist, pulling her body toward his. Y/N tiptoed to kiss his neck, and he giggled like a little boy. Gemma gave them a funny look but didn’t say a word because she, and everyone else, was already used to their public affection.

“Let’s wait until tomorrow morning,” she told Harry, and his face screwed up.

“And ruin Mum’s entire Sunday?”

“Well, would you prefer that she stay up all night?”

“I agree with Gemma, baby.” Y/N tightened her grip around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. She felt so small pressed against him like this, and since he’d gone two days without fucking, the thought of holding her up against the wall and spreading her open with his arms beneath her knees was enough to turn his balls blue. He would make that fantasy a reality if Gemma weren’t here, and they weren’t one door away from the only group of people whose opinions about them mattered.

“Okay, tomorrow then,” he said and turned on the tap to wash his hands.

“Alice will sleep with me tonight,” Y/N said. “Niall or Isaac can use our guest room.”

“I’ll sacrifice Niall. Your guest room is shit, and I love Isaac a bit more than Niall.”

She pinched his side and he jumped, but her arms forced his body still.

“I’ll let Gemma pick then,” he said.

“What?” Gemma asked, distracted.

“Isaac and Niall,” he raised a smirk. “One will have to sleep in Y/N’s shitty guest room. One stays here with us.”

“It’s not shitty,” Y/N said in a protesting tone.

“Babe, I saw a rat the last time we had se—”

She smacked a hand over his mouth before he could finish the sentence. As Gemma rolled her eyes at them, he plucked Y/N’s fingers off his face and told his sister, “Go ahead. You pick.”

She opened her mouth. For a second, he thought she was going to answer, but then she released a huff and said, “I’m not doing this with you children.”

“Children?!” He dropped his jaw as she stalked out of the kitchen. Y/N dissolved into laughter as he spun around, took each of her arms and draped it over his shoulder.

A smile played on her lips, and she asked, “Do you wanna join them or go on a date with me?”

“Oooh, where is this date?”

“The cemetery.”

His face went blank for a second as she stifled a laugh. “Just kidding.” She pinched his cheeks. “I’m going to see my mum. You coming?”

“Why does it have to be now?”

“Are you coming or not?”

He was so whipped he would have gone without knowing it was the cemetery. “Fine. But if we see a ghost, I’m leaving you behind.”

She laughed and shoved him away, and they raced each other to the living room. They told everyone that they’d go out for a walk. And as he escorted her to the door, Niall and Alice started clapping and cheering, and Gemma tossed a pillow at Niall to get him to shut up.

There wasn’t a particular reason that Y/N had chosen to plan a cemetery visit at this hour. She simply enjoyed strolling around town in the night as much as Harry did. When he was a teenager, he used to bring one of his dates to the field behind his house, and they had taken long walks under the night sky and made out in his car afterward.

He’d thought it’d been the most romantic experience in his life, until two years ago, when they’d visited her mother’s grave together. That was when he’d realised the cemetery could be romantic. Everything turned romantic when he was with her.

So if she wanted to walk around a graveyard at one in the morning, he would blindly follow, no questions asked.

After finding a safe parking spot, they walked to the tall iron gate that looked like the set of a Hitchcock movie. No one had bothered to polish it since the last time they’d been here, and he guessed no one intended to anyway.

Just like the last time, she snuck through an opening in the fence to get into the cemetery, and he tagged after, his heart thumping loudly. They’d better get to share a cell if they got arrested for trespassing.

It was a little foggy at 1 AM. The air was cold and the grass was damp. They padded across a desolate lot and were careful not to get their shoes dipped into the mud. As they followed the brick pathway, he negotiated his way around the gravestones, trying to keep up because she was walking too fast, like a ghost. The thought made him shiver. Probably not the best comparison to make when they were literally in a cemetery.

After a five minute walk, they finally arrived. Her mother’s headstone stood erect, bathed in light spilt from the ashen moon. Seeing the fresh flowers on the grave, Harry assumed Bradford had just visited his wife today. Y/N had told Harry that her dad came here every week to trim the grass and clean the stone. It was nice how much things had changed since their last visit.

As she squatted down to rearrange the flowers, Harry spotted a newly dug grave nearby and pointed to it, grinning. “Your mum’s getting a new neighbour.”

Y/N put a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Don’t disrespect the dead! They’ll come for you tonight!”

He scoffed at the threat, but as a cold breeze whisked right through his clothes, he immediately cowered to her side, and she doubled over, almost choking on her own laughter.

After giving her mother updates on her book and his Oscar nomination, Y/N kissed her fingers, pressed them against the moonwashed stone and bid her mother goodbye. They followed the same path weaved around tombstones to go back to the opening between the fence. With a feeling of being watched, Harry kept looking behind him as he clung onto Y/N like she was his weapon.

“Don’t look back,” she said. “My mum is following us.”

The shadow of a smile on her lips almost got him running for his life. He swore he’d never do this with her again, knowing for a fact that he would, if she only asked.

Once they returned to their parking spot, they retrieved two cans of Coca-Cola from Y/N’s bag and lay on their backs on the bonnet of his car to watch the stars. His adrenaline from their stroll across the cemetery was finally washed away as he listened to her ranting about her new book.

He wasn’t a writer so he wasn’t qualified to give her any advice. He mostly just listened, and because he knew Y/N didn’t want people’s advice. She vent her frustrations to feel better for a while, and most likely would end up doing whatever felt right to her.

Soon the topic of work bored her out. She extended a hand toward the sky and closed her fingers around nothing as if she was grasping the stars.

“Have you read The Little Prince?”

The random question put a smile to his lips. “The book Alice and Niall couldn’t shut up about during dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He took her hand that was in the air and brought it to his mouth so he could kiss her knuckles. “I have. Why?”

“My mum read it to me when I was little,” she said. “I used to wish I’d lived on the little prince’s tiny planet. All you needed to do was move your chair a few steps and you could see the night sky whenever you liked. We could live in this same moment, over and over again.”

“And never grow older,” his voice softened, and she replied with a quiet hum.

“Wouldn’t that be great?”

He cocked his head to the side and met her softened gaze. But then a hint of worry washed out that dreamy haze, and a line appeared between her brows.

“Do you sometimes wish I was cooler?”

That was a big shift from the story of the little prince. Surprised, he squeezed her fingers gently. “What do you mean? You’re always cool.”

“I mean, cool like...like your friends cool.” She huffed in frustration as she didn’t know how to properly get her point across, but he’d already figured it out.

“You should’ve told me the clip still bothers you,” he said with a frown, and the way she pursed her lips confirmed his speculations. “Bambi…”

“We used to have a lot in common when we were kids.” Her bottom lips trembled as her breaths quickened. “Now our lives are so different. And I’m fine with it, and I know you are too because we love each other. But sometimes it feels like…” She stalled, and with no intention of finishing that sentence, dropped her gaze to her hand in his. “I wish I fit better in your life, so when people see us together they’d just accept it without questioning why.”

“Why do you care what they think, Bambi?”

She bit her bottom lip, thinking for a second. “I’m trying not to. It’s hard.”

A smile stretched his lips as he leaned in, stroked his thumb across her cheek and kissed her mouth lightly. Her lashes fluttered when he pulled away.

“The little prince has a flower, right?” he asked.

“Yes, he has a rose,” she said with a pensive expression. “The only one on his planet.”

He nodded once. “If I remember correctly, she’s a very beautiful flower. She shows off her thorns and puts on a superior attitude, but is actually a sensitive little thing and doesn’t like to expose her vulnerability.”

“Oh no, I’m the flower,” she gasped, making him chuckle.

He brushed her hair out of her face and went on, “When the prince comes to the earth, he finds himself in a garden with hundreds of roses, all as gorgeous as the one he loves.”

She continued for him, “But he still thinks his rose is unique and more important than all of the other roses together.”

“Yes.” He propped himself up on an elbow to lie on his side. “And why is that?”

“Because he loves her, and he knows she loves him, too,” she said while caressing his face with the back of her hand.

“That’s right.” He nodded again. “Most people think the prince is stupid for travelling from planet to planet for a rose, but he doesn’t care what they think. No matter where he is, he always thinks about his little flower. He fell in love with her when he was little and has spent his whole life watering and caring for her. Love comes from investing in other people, isn’t it?”

Her smile widened as she combed her fingers through his hair, and her cheeks bloomed with colours when she drew him in and kissed him deeply. He melted from the intensity of her lips as his hands smoothed down her arm, squeezed her behind, and pulled her as close as he could. The hardness of his body against her softness. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The butterflies in his stomach. He was spiralling out of control.

“I’m crazy about you,” he muttered against her lips and threaded his fingers in her locks. “I don’t care how different we are. When I first said I love you, I promised I’d stay. So I’m yours as long as you still want me, Bambi.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek. “I want you forever. Can you handle that?”

He drew her closer, and their bodies came flush together. “Forever and ever, baby,” he said before kissing her again.

[artificialqueens]

A Chip on My Shoulder (Crystal x Gigi) - Frankenvenus

Summary: After deciding that a childcare career just wasn’t for her, Crystal auditions for a theatre company who are putting on a production of Legally Blonde, and ends up falling for their lead, who happens to turn her nose up at everyone who shows any interest in her - however, she might have a soft spot for the new girl.

…

Crystal had been waiting all summer to find out whether or not she had been accepted into L.A’s prestigious theatre programme ‘Rupaul’s Academy of Performing Arts.’ Her audition had been in late May of 2019, and it had gone seemingly well. She sang the first minute of ‘A Boy Like That’ from West Side Story, as suggested by her mother, though she actually wanted to sing a song from Anastasia. Her mother had told her that Anastasia was far too babyish, and it would only be appropriate if she was auditioning for a role as a princess at Disneyland. She did what her mom said, and successfully hit each note in the audition room. The theatre director watching her seemed pleased. She was optimistic that she would land a place in the company.

She had been studying a college degree in childcare after leaving high school, but she quickly realised that she fucking hated it, she fucking hated little kids, and she really wanted to pursue musical theatre. Her family was overjoyed, to say the least. Her dad had had this ridiculous fantasy that they would become a family band and Crystal would be the next Selena Quintanilla, so he was very supportive of his daughter’s change in aspiration.

The letter arrived on the 1st of September, and Crystal’s mom snatched it out of her daughter’s hands before she could open it. The woman was insistent in finding out first.

She dragged her sharp nails across the top of the envelope, opening it in the most inefficient way possible. She had a large smile across her face, simply knowing that her daughter was going to be accepted.

“Mom could I-” Crystal tried to take the letter into her own hands but her mom slapped her fingers away.

“Basta ya, I can do it myself,” she sighed, yanking the letter from the envelope and unfolding it, “Dear Crystal Elizabeth,” she sang, her voice filled with hope, “We regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful in the selection of this year’s cast…” her mom quickly slammed the letter against the table and left the room leaving Crystal alone to finish reading it through watery eyes.

“We were overwhelmed with this year’s talent and wholeheartedly suggest you try again next year. We urge you not to give up on your theatrical dream as there are always other opportunities- this is the letter they send to everyone who failed, why am I reading this?” she sniffled, pushing it down on the table as her mom walked back in.

“It’s that blue hair of yours, Crystal, I know it. Maybe if you had kept it brown then they would’ve accepted you.”

“Si mamá,” she sighed, wiping her eyes and picking up her phone which was face-down on the table in front.

In that next moment, she thanked the gods and Mark Zuckerberg for listening in to her conversations, because an advert notification popped up on her screen when she opened Instagram.

Stephanie’s Child School of Theatrical Arts - Walk-in auditions September 8th - Anyone is welcome - Headshots NOT obligatory - Bring your own sheet music!

Crystal kissed her phone and rushed to her laptop, printing out the sheet music to ‘Journey to the Past’ from Anastasia as discreetly as she could. This other theatre school was no Rupaul’s academy, evidently (their advert used comic sans in the title) but she still felt like it was a sign.

After many nights of rehearsing, practice and being told to shut the fuck up by her little brother, audition day finally came.

She was given a sticker with her name on it upon entry, as well as a number. The school’s studio, where the audition was taking place, seemed quite old and in need of a makeover, but it was homely nonetheless. There were only about ten other people auditioning, unlike Rupaul’s school with over a hundred auditionees. Crystal wondered how many people attending were Rupaul rejects, and it made her uneasy.

After warming up alone by blowing bubbles into her water with a straw for ten minutes, a gleeful looking girl bounced in with lilac-coloured hair.

Thank God - this meant Crystal’s blue hair wouldn’t be an issue when being accepted.

“Hey, people! My name is Jan and I am the theatre director here. So we are going to start with number twelve for singing and then work our way down, and then you’re going to learn some choreo for a dance call!” she beamed, gripping her clipboard aggressively.

A dance call? Have mercy.

Crystal was number eight, which meant that it wouldn’t be long before she was called in to sing. She bounced her leg tensely, watching one girl begin to stretch in the corner of the room. Her name tag read ‘Jaida,’ and she had come in a leotard and jazz shoes - more prepared than Crystal.

After a minute of staring, Jaida caught her, before smiling and approaching her.

“Hey, girl! You threatened?” the girl asked sternly, causing Crystal’s heart to drop. Oh no, she had already made a bad impression.

“I- no… sorry I-” she was cut off with a laugh from the tall brunette in front of her.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you. Hi, I’m Jaida. And you are…” her eyes trailed to the shorter girl’s name tag, “Crystal. Cute. What are you singing?”

“Journey to the Past from Anastasia,” Crystal spoke nervously, fumbling with the pages of her sheet music.

“Awe, bless you,” Jaida chuckled, placing a hand over her heart, “I’m singing Aquarius from Hair. Also don’t look so nervous, sweetie. My friends Heidi and Jackie go here, and they say it’s super chill. Plus - you look talented.”

Crystal blushed, “Thank you. So do you!”

Jan walked back into the room with her clipboard in hand, “Can number ten follow me please?”

Jaida’s breath hitched as she shuffled across the room to grab her sheet music. She quickly winked at Crystal before disappearing into the other room. The blue-haired girl could hear the large rumble of the grand piano, but was disappointed that she couldn’t hear Jaida’s voice. The girl seemed enticing.

It wasn’t long before Crystal was being called through. She smiled shyly while she placed her music down in front of the pianist, who was a cheerful-looking girl with heavy makeup on and large glasses. Her name tag read ‘Rock,’ and Crystal whispered a small thank you to her before taking her spot in front of Jan and another woman, who was taking notes.

“Hello, my name is Crystal Elizabeth and I will be singing ‘Journey to the Past’ from Anastasia,” she began, suddenly regaining her confidence as the soft piano began. She was Crystal Elizabeth, high school salutatorian and a killer mezzo-soprano. She belted the song with a passion she had never felt before, and she left everyone else in the room blown away after the final note.

“That’s some voice you have there, Miss Elizabeth,” Jan smiled, clapping softly, “You are very talented.”

“Thank you so much.”

Much to Crystal’s surprise, the dance call went well. She managed to pick up Jan’s choreography easily, and Jaida assisted her with the few moves she couldn’t quite get.

She left the audition that night with the biggest smile she had sported in a while.

…

Unlike Rupaul’s Academy of Performing Arts, the letter from Stephanie’s Child came quickly. It arrived in the mail less than a month after Crystal’s audition. Her mom wasn’t so eager to be first to open it after last time, so Crystal took the duty of prying open the envelope.

“Crystal Elizabeth, We at Stephanie’s Child School of Theatrical Arts are delighted to inform you that you will be joining this year’s cast and programme. We loved your audition and we would love to hear even more from you, so we can’t wait to see you in rehearsals for our winter production of Legally Blonde starting this Wednesday, and we’d love to see you audition for a role!” Crystal read it out shakily, fireworks exploding in her chest.

First of all, she got in! She was so thankful and even more thrilled that she was finally able to make her mom proud. Second of all, they were doing Legally Blonde which was beyond iconic.

…

It was the first day of rehearsals, and Crystal was almost more nervous than she was for her initial audition. She caked her face in makeup and put her hair into two low pigtails, hoping to impress her fellow castmates.

She was told by the receptionist to sign her name in at the door, so she doodled ‘Crystal Elizabeth’ with a heart on the ‘i’ before smiling at the sight of the name ‘Jaida Hall’ above her own. It was great that she had a familiar face going in.

When she entered the studio, she felt all eyes on her. It was a large dance studio with mirrors on two sides of the room, a grand piano in one corner, and tap dancing mats stacked up in another.

There were about four prominent friend groups across the room, but Crystal drifted over to Jaida, where she stood with a short girl with black hair and a large gap tooth and a taller girl with a hijab and high dancing heels on.

“Crystal! You got in!” Jaida squealed, pulling the blue-haired girl into an unexpected hug.

“Yeah, I’m really surprised. Everyone here looks so professional!” Crystal giggled, her voice cracking slightly under the pressure.

“Trust and believe - we are far from professional,” the girl with the gap snorted, “I’m Heidi! It’s great to meet you.”

“And I’m Jackie,” the girl with the hijab greeted, “Jaida was telling us how good your singing audition was.”

Crystal’s eyes widened as she looked to the brunette, “You could hear me?”

“I may or may not have stood by the door. You have pipes, girl.”

“So you have a high belt, hm?” Heidi asked with a glint in her eye.

“Yeah, I guess so…”

“Well, you’re gonna have to compete with Gigi for the part of Elle then…” Jackie smirked, pointing across the room.

Crystal averted her gaze to where the girl pointed, and suddenly she felt abruptly light-headed.

There stood a remarkably tall redhead with perfectly curled hair tossed over one shoulder, warming up into a belt box that she held to her mouth, as many surrounding girls watched, mesmerized.

“I just know she’s that girl,” Jaida rolled her eyes, “Let me guess - she auditioned with ’Don’t Rain on My Parade.’”

Heidi nearly spat out the water she was drinking, knowing that Jaida had hit the nail on the head.

“She has a three-octave belting range. She’s scary,” Jackie exhaled, patting Heidi’s back gently to stop her from choking.

“She’s hot,” Crystal thought, still watching the girl warm up. Gigi. That was like a model’s name. She wondered what it was short for. Georgia, Regina, Imogen, Virginia, Genevieve, Gianna - It could be anything.

“You’re right, she is hot alright,” Heidi said, causing Crystal’s stomach to plummet because she said that out loud, “But she barely lets anyone touch her. She’s nice and all but - we barely know anything about her - other than her insane range. Her mom is a vocal coach.”

The blue-haired girl frowned. Even though she was still yet to talk to this girl, she wanted to know more about her. She wanted to know everything - because she was a creep. Why did she think she would be different and would somehow succeed in weaving her way into Gigi’s personal life?

“More than half of the people in this room have asked her on a date,” Heidi continued, “But she turned them all down because - and I quote - She’s sorry, she’s too busy, she can get their number in case she changes her mind - but she never does. She could be from another country and we wouldn’t know.”

“She seems pretty bold for a theatre kid,” Jaida snickered, but she was interrupted when Jan began clapping, ushering everyone to the centre of the room.

Crystal followed her new group of friends to a circle of chairs that had been placed in the centre of the room. She was sure she recalled auditioning for a musical theatre school - not a group therapy session.

She took a seat between Jackie and Jaida, and Gigi sat across from them, conversing to a friend who Crystal recognised to be Rock - the pianist from her audition.

“Hey everyone! I’m so excited to welcome all these new faces to our company! There are about five new people in the room, so one by one I want you all to stand up and tell everyone your name, your favourite role you’ve ever played and your dream role,” Jan explained gleefully. There was something about the lilac-haired woman that brightened up the room a little bit.

Jaida was first to stand up, puffing her chest out like the proud woman she was. Crystal just knew she was a professional and she’d be in her element at this academy.

“My name is Jaida, the best role I have played was Deloris is my senior year’s production of Sister Act and my dream role is Bonnie Parker from Bonnie and Clyde.”

Everyone had small discussions about how they would kill to play Deloris or how Bonnie was the hottest role on Broadway, but then it was the next newbie’s turn.

“My name is Widow - the best role I played was Donna in my community theatre’s production of Mamma Mia, but my dream role is Regina George and I live by that.”

Many girls in the circle whooped and cheered for her, and Crystal already felt like she was part of such a tight-knit family. She wallowed in her happiness until she realised that it was her turn to speak. She stood from her chair with shaky legs, and Gigi watched her with a curious glance that she couldn’t quite read. She bit her lip, placed her hands behind her back, rocked back and forth on her feet, and spoke.

“Um, my name is Crystal and my favourite role that I played was Heather McNamara in Heathers and I think my dream role is Eva Peron in Evita or maybe Nina from In The Heights? I don’t know… I don’t have the best theatre knowledge. I don’t have a BFA or anything I-”

Jan chuckled slightly, smiling at Crystal, “I promise that you know more shows than some people I know. My mom only knows Grease, no matter how many show tunes I play her in the car.”

Crystal reacted with a soft giggle, a blush covering her face when she noticed Gigi resting her chin on her fist, staring up at her with a fascinated look. The blue-haired girl wanted to stare back, but that meant eye contact, and she wasn’t prepared for that. She sat herself back down as the next girl stood up.

“Bonjour, my name is Nicky,” her accent was heavy, and no one had to ask to know she was from France, but she brought it up anyway, “I moved here from Paris a couple of months ago, my favourite role I’ve played was Velma in Chicago, and my dream role is Velma in Chicago, except this time, on Broadway.”

Crystal heard Jaida say ‘I feel you girl’ and smiled at the thought of Nicky and Jaida being Roxie and Velma. It would be iconic.

The final girl stood up - she was tall and lanky but had the coolest hair Crystal had ever seen. She had pink dreadlocks, half wrapped in a bun at the top of her head.

“I’m Yvie. My favourite role I played was Elphaba in my community theatre’s production of Wicked but my dream role is probably Persephone from Hadestown.”

Crystal wanted to sink into her seat. Where she had grown up, in Missouri, she had been a big fish in a small pond. The girls at her high school just wanted to sing Britney Spears, and didn’t care for theatre - but Crystal had taught herself to belt. There weren’t any belters where she was from, but now, in New York, it seemed that that was all there was.

She had zoned out from the group’s conversation for a while, lost in her own many insecure thoughts. Now she was just a small speck of dust in a city full of dreamers. Everyone was fighting for a role on broadway. What made her different?

She was so focused on her own insecurities that she hardly noticed a hand being held in front of her. It was pale and delicate - so it wasn’t Jaida. Her brown-eyed gaze moved upwards, stifling a gasp when she saw Gigi in front of her.

“Hello?” was all she could muster out. She felt humiliated afterwards. Jan had definitely set a task that she hadn’t listened to, “Sorry I- I kinda wasn’t focused when Jan was explaining whatever we were doing could you, uhm, fill me in?”

Gigi smiled a toothy smile, and Crystal was so thankful she got to see her this close, even though the scenario was embarrassing. Her nose was slender as it went down but kissable at the bottom. Her eyes were large and blue and overwhelmingly bright, guarded by thin-framed circular glasses. Her features were quite androgynous, with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones, and Crystal’s brain was short-circuiting.

“Yeah, I figured you zoned out,” she smirked, “Basically Jan paired all of the new girls with old members, and we have to give you a tour of the building and I got paired with you! I’m Gigi.”

Crystal thanked the Gods for the blessing that was this girl, “Lucky me!” she blurted, and quickly Gigi’s fair skin turned rosy.

From Jackie and Heidi’s description, the blue-haired girl had been quick to assume that Gigi carried a coldness to her. This wasn’t the case, as the redhead hadn’t stopped grinning since Crystal introduced herself.

“So, you seemed to like my dream roles,” Crystal chuckled, making conversation whilst Gigi showed her around the ground floor juice bar, “What are your dream roles? And what roles have you played? Where are you even from?”

“Lots of questions,” Gigi joked, buying two beetroot juices for her and Crystal, “I’m from L.A, but don’t tell anyone. New Yorkers hate us L.A folks. I’ve lived here for a year now, and it’s cool. My dream role is probably Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors or like… Penny from Hairspray. I’ve been in so many shows like Cabaret, The Last Five Years, Pippin, but the best role I played was Heather Chandler in Heathers.”

In the next moment, Crystal wished that she wasn’t such a deep thinker. Often she would think out loud by mistake, and this was one of those times.

“That’s hot,” she gushed, without a single formed thought

“So I’ve heard,” Gigi held back laughter, and Crystal wanted to succumb, “Unfortunately, I don’t remember the part when Chandler and McNamara get together.”

The blue-haired girl made a swift attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction, so she said the first thing that came to mind, “You don’t seem bitchy enough to play Chandler.”

Fuck. That wasn’t a good way to steer the conversation either.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me…” Gigi deadpanned.

Crystal sighed and looked down at her juice, “At least tell me what Gigi is short for.”

The redhead rolled her eyes before casually leaning in and whispering in the shorter girl’s ear, her cool breath hitting the side of her face.

“Giselle.”

…

Audition day for their parts in the show came quicker than Crystal had hoped. She was fully prepared the day she was given the materials, but her self-doubt caused her to be extremely nervous.

Crystal didn’t know what was worse; the fact that they had to watch everyone else’s auditions or the fact that practically everyone was auditioning for Elle.

Luckily for her, Jaida volunteered to go first. The blue-haired girl was terrified of being selected from the group. No one had heard her voice yet, other than Jaida.

Jaida fucking nailed ‘So Much Better’ as if the song was written for her. The girl carried herself like a Tony winner, and Crystal wouldn’t be surprised if that was the road she took. Her acting was dramatic and eccentric, evidently theatrically trained rather than for film. Her audition ended with applause, and it was Jackie’s turn next.

Jackie was one of the few people not auditioning for the lead and was instead auditioning for Paulette, the hairdresser. Over the few weeks she had been there, Crystal acknowledged that Jackie was the mom of the group - the glue that held the theatre divas together. The girl embodied the role of Paulette perfectly.

Crystal then realised that Jan was staring right at her, and as soon as Jackie finished her final note, the director called her up to sing next. The tanned girl nodded, fiddling with her script just to scan over one more line before placing it down.

“Can I quickly grab some water?” she asked, partly because her throat was dry but mostly because she was stalling. Jan nodded with a sigh, and Crystal rushed out of the room. What she didn’t expect was for Gigi to follow her.

As she was filling up the small paper cup with room temperature water, she felt a hand on her back. She turned around, careful not to spill her drink, and saw the redhead standing there with a look of concern.

“You don’t need to stall,” Gigi assured, her hand not moving from it’s position just below Crystal’s shoulder, “You’re here for a reason. They wouldn’t let you in if you sang like shit.”

The shorter girl scoffed, “I have my good days and I have my bad days. Today is not a good day.”

She found her breathing getting worryingly rapid, like she was verging on a panic attack. It was eased when Gigi placed her free hand on the other side of her back and held her there, going through some quick breathing exercises. The redhead told her to inhale and exhale before dragging her back into the audition room.

“I am Crystal Elizabeth and I’ll be auditioning for Elle Woods,” she glanced over at Gigi and saw the girl give her a discreet thumbs-up. The entire endeavour from the last few minutes just hit her. Gigi had spoken to her, touched her, and calmed her down, despite keeping her distance from her after that first day. The validation from Gigi bloomed butterflies of dignity in her chest, and she nailed her audition, personifying the strong, ambitious lady that was Elle Woods.

The fact that she hit each note perfectly boosted her hope that she could land this role, but what increased her faith the most was the smile Gigi sported the entire time.

Gigi’s audition swept Crystal off her feet, even though she was sitting down. Her voice was like silk, her vibrato was perfect and she hit and held the final high note like it was the simplest thing she’d ever done. Crystal was in the right mind to give the girl a standing ovation, but she didn’t want to discourage those yet to audition. Instead, she let out a gentle squeal when Gigi returned to her seat.

“That was insane,” Crystal mouthed to the girl, who was sitting two metres away, with Widow and Nicky keeping them separated.

The redhead mouthed something back, but Crystal couldn’t identify what it was. It was either ‘Thank you, honey’which was cute, or ‘Thank you, baby’ which would’ve literally killed Crystal.

…

If she was being honest, Crystal didn’t want to look at the cast list. Although she would always be delighted to be in the cast at all, if she landed the infamous role of shop assistant number two, she would see her theatre career to be over.

The list was going to be sent out at six in the evening through email, and Crystal found herself not leaving her apartment the entire day, trying to busy herself by vacuuming every room, dusting every shelf, watching everything on her Letterboxd watchlist and finishing an entire bottle of rose lemonade (after debating whether or not she should have a bottle of wine instead, but she didn’t want to be too drunk to read the list.)

She was in the middle of watching The Craft when her phone pinged from the coffee table. She groaned as she reached over, trying to grab the device without moving the rest of her body. It took an extensive stretch of her arm, but she succeeded.

Her efforts were almost futile when she nearly dropped her phone after seeing what the notification read.

Unknown hey girl, it’s gigi from theatre. i hope this is ur number crystal but idk??? anyways i’m super nervous right now..

Where the fuck did Gigi get her number from and why was Miss Aloof making small talk with her? She promptly saved Gigi’s contact into her phone before trying to conjure up a reply that didn’t make her sound too needy or too disinterested.

Crystal it’s me alright ;) i’m nervous too. u for sure got the part though. if not… it’s rigged.

Crystal also how’d u get my number???

Gigi i asked nicky, and then nicky asked jaida, and then jaida gave it to me

Crystal was flattered that she went to such an effort, though she still couldn’t understand why.

Gigi ohmygod it’s 5:50. ten minutes

Gigi they r gonna typecast me as nikos cuz i’m gay AND european

Hold on. Wait a second. Did Giselle Goode just come out to her casually through a Legally Blonde song reference? Crystal felt like hurling her phone across the room. Now her little crush was made more unbearable, knowing that Gigi did like girls - just not her. The last thing she wanted to do was address Gigi’s comment.

Crystal u r european?? also u are elle woods. period

Gigi part scottish! also no u are elle woods no further questions.

Crystal came to realise that Gigi seemed much more confident and comfortable texting than she was in real life. She was more talkative behind a screen.

Crystal it’s legally blonde. not legally blue-haired Mexican

Gigi it’s not legally ginger either bitch . like no one at the studio is blonde

Gigi SJCDSCBHCASKJ WAAAITTTT THEY POSTED IT!t&%^%%*

Crystal’s stomach plummeted like the fucking Tower of Terror. It wasn’t even six yet! It was two minutes to six! Her thumb nearly got a friction burn as she swiped open the mail app. The top email was from Jan, and it had an image attached. With a trembling finger, Crystal opened it.

CAST LIST FEMALE PARTS Elle Woods - Giselle Goode Pilar, Margot, Serena - Jaqueline Cox, Heidi Anthonie, Nicolette Doll Paulette Buonofuonte - Widow Von Du Brooke Wyndham - Jaida Hall Chutney Wyndham - Yvangeline Oddly Vivienne Kensington - Crystal Elizabeth

Crystal didn’t need to read any more after spotting her name. Her grin was wide and her heart was full because she got to play the mean one. The girl had consistently been placed in the cute, funny best-friend typecast, and over time it had become tedious and repetitive. It was going to be great to expand her acting skills, despite not having a mean bone in her body. She opened the messenger app back up and started to text Gigi once again.

Crystal called it!! nothing but respect for MY elle woods

Gigi i am in disbelief, but congrats girl!!! u get to bully me on stage for like 2 hours

Crystal idk girl. i’m kinda mad i didn’t get shop assistant #2

Gigi not this…

…

The read-through came and went successfully, as well as three months of hardcore rehearsals and trying to go off-book, and then suddenly it was tech week (also known as a theatre kid’s best nightmare.)

They were performing the show at the Laura Pels Theatre in New York, and the Monday of tech week was the first day they had a run-through on the stage. The rush that Crystal experienced when she first saw the rows and rows of seats that would be filled the next week was overwhelming. Almost every performance in the eight-show run was sold out.

Whilst the tech crew fiddled with the sound deck, Jan allowed the girls to roam around backstage and organise all their props and costumes, but Crystal wasn’t one for organising. She took a seat in the middle of the stalls, simply staring at the large stage in front of her and picturing herself belting her heart out in the centre, in front of a huge audience of people.

Her fantasy was startled when a sharp ‘boo’ was whispered in her ear. She turned around and saw that Gigi had sat in the seat behind her with a large grin on her face. Over the many months of rehearsing, Gigi and Crystal had become best friends, baffling everyone else at the studio. Crystal knew everything about Gigi there was to know now, and she had seen all sides of the redhead’s goofy personality that she would mask around others.

“You scared me,” Crystal cackled, flashing a toothy smile at her best friend.

“You scared me. You were just staring off into the distance like you were possessed or something.” Gigi reached up to fiddle with Crystal’s curls, which had now been dyed back to their natural colour - dark brown - for the purpose of the show, “I organised your dressing room for you since you didn’t seem to want to do it yourself.”

The brunette sighed, melting into Gigi’s touch, “I’m overwhelmed!”

“Okay and? I’m the lead.”

“Fuck off.”

“Watch this…” Gigi pulled her phone out from her jean pocket and opened her camera roll, showing Crystal a video she had sneakily filmed of the latter in the wings whilst Nicky, Jackie, Heidi and the ensemble rehearsed the opening number, ‘Omigod You Guys.’ The video featured Crystal on the other side of the wings, watching the girls singing and lip-syncing along, thinking no one was watching. She was dancing like an awkward mom whilst Heidi sang her part.

“Giselle Jasmine Goode delete that off your phone now.”

“Absolutely not.”

Crystal half-heartedly wrestled her for a bit, trying to grab her friend’s phone, but Gigi switched it off so she couldn’t unlock it.

“I hate you,” she groaned, sinking back into the soft auditorium seat.

Gigi slipped her phone back into her pocket and stared at Crystal with a look that flipped the mood between the two. Her eyes were sultry-looking and her lips curled up slyly, “You don’t hate me at all.”

It took everything in Crystal not to stare down at the girl’s glossy pink lips, but that didn’t stop her from imagining how they would taste.

It was frustrating sometimes, the way Gigi knew most people at the studio found her attractive. It gave her a sense of cockiness that she would utilize by teasing Crystal - making the innocent brunette believe she had a chance. Crystal knew she didn’t, though. Crystal was sure Gigi had her eyes set on Nicky. They were more similar, evidently. She had to accept that Gigi was always going to be her friend, and nothing more.

…

A week later, after many late nights and many mic-checks, opening night arrived. From her dressing room, Crystal could hear crowds of people filling up the auditorium whilst she straightened her wild curls with a flat iron. Her hands were shaky as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her striped shirt. Her costume was bland, consisting of a black skirt, a black and white striped button-up and plain black stilettos - the token ‘law student look.’

Across the room, Gigi was staring into the mirror and warming up whilst Jaida tried to fix her blonde lace-front wig for her. Gigi’s costume was fashionable and early 2000s style: a cropped denim jacket over a pink Chanel patterned dress. Her heels were high and her makeup was bright, and everything was so very pink.

Jaida, Crystal and Gigi all shared a dressing room, and it sat practically under the stage, so they had to keep quiet. Jaida’s character didn’t appear until the second act, so after helping the others get ready, she sat in the corner and steamed her voice with Gigi’s very overpriced vocal steamer.

As Crystal was applying nude lip liner to her lips, her phone pinged, and a text from her mom appeared on the screen.

Mom The family has arrived, Mija! We are all in the front row and we are so excited for you!!!

The brunette smiled to herself, trying to send a reply back without getting pounds of stage-makeup on her phone screen.

Crystal thank u for the support mama, but remember, don’t clap or cheer unless it’s at the end of the song or during the bows, and no singing! theatre etiquette!!!

Mom Lo sé. Tell Gigi good luck from me.

The text was followed by many nonsensical emojis, but Crystal was smiling too hard to care.

“Chile, what are you staring at?” Jaida smirked at her through the mirror, “You’re talking to a girl?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Crystal saw Gigi’s expression falter. The girl now had her eyes squinted at the brunette, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“Ew gross. It’s my mom!” Crystal snorted, placing her phone down on the table and making a dramatically disgusted look on her face.

Jaida strutted over to Crystal and grinned at her, “You’re way too happy all the time to be single.”

“Girl, what does that even mean? I’m just positive!”

“Mhm…”

The brunette averted her gaze back to her lip liner when she caught a glare from Gigi in the mirror.

“Whatsup?” Crystal mouthed.

“Nerves,” Gigi mouthed back.

“You’ll kill it.”

Ten minutes later, however, the roles were reversed. They were ten minutes to curtain, and Crystal was physically shaking on her dressing room stool. Jaida had gone to the bathroom, so Gigi took it upon herself to comfort her friend.

“I’m so fucking scared, G. You know, on the opening night of West Side Story, when I was Anita, my voice cracked during ’America,’ and it was the worst feeling ever. Opening nights are always cursed for me. I’m probably gonna fall over or something,” she started crying, and Gigi was quick to grab tissues, not wanting her to spoil the stage-makeup she had spent so long on. She dabbed the soft tissues below Crystal’s waterline where tears threatened to spill over and escape her glassy eyes.

“Hey, I’m not good at like… the whole comforting thing but, I know that you’re gonna fucking kill it. For the entire first act you get to be a hardcore bitch, and then at the end, you get to sing your big note and sweep everyone away! You’re so fucking fierce and beautiful and you literally ooze talent out like it’s fucking sweat I- I’m rambling,” the words spilt out of Gigi like a broken soap dispenser, but Crystal had never felt so much compassion for her as she did at that moment.

From being seemingly emotionless to rambling on about the respect she had for her best friend; Gigi had experienced incredible growth as a person since befriending Crystal.

“And before you doubt yourself for another second, just know that I fucking love you,” the taller girl added, and oh.

Crystal blinked a couple of times, trying to ease the new swarm of Gigi-caused butterflies that had since joined the stage-fright butterflies. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and looked in her friend’s eyes, begging for her to continue speaking before Crystal blurted I love you too.

And Crystal was sure glad that she didn’t get the chance to say the three words in return, because Gigi added something else, “You are the best best-friend I’ve ever had.”

Friends.

…

Despite the minor soft blow to the chest, Gigi’s pep-talk must have been working so far, because the rush Crystal gained from waiting in the wings, watching the audience, was another one of the greatest feelings she had ever felt. The brunette gazed as Gigi, Nicky, Heidi, Jackie and the ensemble all nailed ‘What You Want,’ and then it was time for her first scene.

She entered on stage alongside her castmate Finneas, the guy playing Warner, and they stood in line waiting for Drew, the guy playing Emmet, to receive their syllabi. Gigi, Finneas and Drew had a few lines of dialogue before Crystal delivered her first line.

“All that pink you’re wearing. Is that even legal?” her character questioned in the bitchiest way possible, eliciting a few chuckles from the packed audience.

“Pink is my signature colour,” Gigi gleamed.

“So I gathered.”

The scene went on smoothly, their Professor Callahan sang his song, and quickly it was Gigi and Crystal’s little bit of feminist dialogue. Gigi had it lucky - she got to smile whilst talking to Crystal - but the brunette had to act like she hated the girl, which was tougher than anticipated.

“Excuse me, but why would you do that to another girl?” Gigi’s character asked.

“Do what?”

“We girls have to stick together. We shouldn’t try to look good by making each other look bad.”

“I didn’t make you look bad, you just weren’t prepared. Try opening a law book. But I should warn you,” she smirked and sauntered towards Gigi, “They don’t come with pictures.”

At the end of Act one, Crystal watched Gigi sing ‘So Much Better,’ trying not to let tears run down her cheeks at how proud she was.

“I’ll even dress in black and white! See, I have not begun to fight. And you’ll go whoah, much better, hello, much better, and soon all y’all gonna know much better…” the redhead (or blonde, if you counted the wig) sang like it was her final performance, even if it was the first of eight shows. She earned a standing ovation for her final note as the curtains closed on the first act, and the first thing she did was run over to Crystal, trip over, and fall into her arms.

“That was fucking insane!” the brunette congratulated, gently placing a kiss on her best friend’s head. She wondered if she could feel it, considering the blonde wig was quite large.

“Can you believe we are fucking here?” Gigi gaped as a group of girls gathered around her. Jaida smirked and Jackie formed an ‘o’ shape with her mouth. The redhead quickly noticed what she said and re-worded it, “I mean we aren’t fucking here but, we fucking are here.”

Crystal laughed and pulled her in closer, but the word friend from earlier built a distance.

Act two went just as well as the first act, and Crystal spotted her mom and little brother in the front row, looking prouder than they had ever looked, and she almost felt complete.

She was shaky when she walked onto the hairdresser set for her big song. Widow and Gigi had some dialogue first, before the latter gave Crystal her cue:

“All this time I thought I was proving myself and making a difference… but it turns out I’m just one big blonde joke. That’s all anyone’s ever gonna see,” Gigi’s character sighed, and suddenly Crystal (or Vivienne) revealed herself from under the hairdryer, causing everyone on stage, as well as most of the audience, to gasp.

“That’s not what I see,” Crystal exclaimed, and there was a short moment after delivering that line where the audience clapped. This was true happiness - this was what it felt like.

“Vivienne?” said Gigi when the audience had finally finished cheering.

“Maybe Warner saw a blonde who was sleeping her way to the top, but all I see is a woman who doesn’t have to.”

The band began playing under her line, and when it was over, she slipped into singing.

“I used to pray for the day you’d leave. Swore up and down you did not belong. But when I am wrong then I say I’m wrong, and I was wrong about you, so listen up!” she strutted over to Widow and Gigi, where they both stood with confused expressions. She placed her hand on Gigi’s arm and continued singing, “I see no end to what you’ll achieve - that’s only if you don’t turn and run. You proved it to me, now show everyone what you can do,” an ensemble member approached with a blue blazer and skirt for Gigi, “And you look great in dark blue!”

Crystal placed her arm on Gigi’s back and led her to the centre of the stage, staring into the large audience with a smirk.

“Get back on the game… back on the case… take a good look at my face,” she turned to Gigi and bit her lip, and the redhead mirrored it, holding back a smile, “I’m not a fool, and as a rule, I do not bond.” she sang the word bond with quotation marks, and she held the note out whilst her friend clutched her chest. “But I see a star, you’re my new muse; you’ve got the best freakin’ shoes!”

The audience cheered as she sang this, and the female ensemble came up behind her, dancing along as she sang like there was no tomorrow.

“And you lit a fuse, so go show ‘em who’s legally blonde!”

The number ended with tremendous applause from the audience, after Gigi’s costume change into her bright pink dress. Crystal pulled her friend into a hug, they exited the stage, and the brunette thanked every God in the sky for not giving her a voice crack, before quickly rushing back on for the courtroom scene.

The scene went on swiftly until Yvie delivered the climactic line: “Think I liked being older than my dad’s new candy wife? I didn’t mean to hurt my father! I didn’t mean to shoot him… I thought it was Brooke coming through the door!”

The final number blew everyone away. The crowd was up on their feet by the end, cheering when Gigi locked lips with Drew. Crystal smiled and clapped along with everyone, and watched as her entire extended family screamed their asses off in the front row.

During bows, Crystal, among others, were given immense amounts of the acclimation, but Gigi received the most. The redhead’s older brother stood in the front row with a bouquet of flowers, standing beside Gigi’s mom who was crying too much to cheer.

The brunette exited the stage with Jaida and Widow, but Gigi stayed on to give one last wave while the curtain closed.

Most of the girls made their way back to their dressing rooms to unwind, remove makeup and prepare to greet family members and acquaintances at the stage door, but Crystal waited in the wings for Gigi. Crystal’s bow gave her an enormous sudden surge of confidence, so as Gigi made her way towards her, she sucked in a deep breath and said everything she ever wanted to say:

“I know this is a lot to take in right now cause you just did that, but I am so proud of you and I’ve been thinking really long and hard about how, even though you’re the greatest best friend I could ever ask for, I want us to be more. I like you so much. I feel like I can’t have my cake and eat it since I’m already so lucky to be in your life just as a friend but it’s so hard not to kiss you when you look that fucking pretty all the fucking time and it’s making me feel crazy. The rush I got tonight makes it impossible for me not to say this. You can slap me, if you want, or just not say anything and go take your wig off-”

“-Shut up.” Gigi grabbed the brunette’s chin and pulled her into a passionate kiss that crossed every friendship barrier they had ever made. So many pent up feelings for such a long time spilt over and Crystal felt like crying when Gigi’s soft hands moved to her neck and pulled her closer.

They broke apart after twenty seconds, resting their foreheads against one another and grinning toothily.

“I like you too… Way more than I should like you. Opening up for me is impossible, but then you somehow made it possible… Like I can tell you anything! Plus, you’re so hot. Your ass… Anyways I’m backtracking. I like you so much,” she kissed the brunette’s forehead softly, “Now let’s go take everything off and then we can go say hi to our families, okay?” Gigi twinkled, reaching forward to grab the brunette’s hand.

Crystal was breathless, somehow managing to reply with a faint ‘yes.’

Crystal couldn’t believe she had said all that to Gigi but had forgotten to say I love you. Little did she know, she’d be whispering it into the redhead’s naked chest later that night.

[redspiderling]

Lets Talk About the Spoilers

After lots of traumatic experiences in the MCU, I read the spoilers for self preservation. I like to be prepared and I’m well aware of the fact that I don’t actually lose any enjoyment in the experience due to knowing what happens, as long as the film is well made. 

There’s this film called the Black Widow that we were supposed to be seeing this week. It was clear from the moment the film was announced that its only possible issues would arise from the script.

Given that we’re already familiar with the character, that the director is excellent and that it’s a solo film (which means there isn’t a chance for it to lose focus) the only thing that could go wrong, is the script.

What could go wrong in the script, you ask?

For one thing, they could shoehorn a lot of shit to be introduced for the next phase of the MCU and exhaust us with unnecessary references to other characters we “miss”. Combine that with no new information that is significant enough to make us interested in the story of a character that is presumed dead, and you’ve got yourselves a mess I’d rather pretend never happened than consciously pay real money to watch in the theatres.

This is why scripts are important, in case anyone was wondering. No amount of gorgeous cinematography or Natasha’s braided hair can save that shit.

Thankfully, Scarlett had already said she wasn’t actually interested on making a film that was “the same old shit”. Well, she said it more eloquently but that was the point. Unfortunately for us, what’s interesting to the actress might not necessarily mean it’s of interest to us. Because while Scarlett might enjoy the chance to finally have a script that acknowledges Natasha is a human being with emotions, we are a bit beyond that point after what Endgame put us through. Which is why I’m here, needlessly over analysing.

I’m a control freak like that.

Here’s “Scarlett Anounces Black Widow to the World” level of happy, to make you feel better.

Attention! Do not open this read more if you don’t want to read potential spoilers about the Black Widow movie.

Before anyone freaks out, I’d like to point out that spoilers are usually out of context, and as such don’t necessarily mean what they say. 

Let’s start with the stuff that appear particularly bothersome:

The End Credit Scene

The spoiler that has made the most rounds in news sites and one that’s actually really easy for people who don’t dwell too deeply into storytelling and just write Marvel articles for the clicks to make some guesswork on, is that after the end credits the Burton family can be seen in front of Natasha’s grave. 

On a superficial “eNDgAMe waS AmAZIng pOor NAtasHA FinaLLy gOT her FunERal” level, that scene seems obvious, and understandable, and acceptable.

On my level of “Has been involved in the MCU specifically for Natasha Romanoff and has spent years learning about and making films”, that sentence makes me want to buy an MCU Blu-ray box set and burn it in my garden while I dance around it and holler in fits of rage. 

So which one is it, you ask? What if the end credit scene IS Marvel attempting to “pay its respects” in a spectacularly too-little-too-late way?

My answer is: It Depends.

What’s the context? Because if the last I see of Natasha before that end credits is her joining Cap in the mindset we met her in when IW happened, welp, Phase 3 on Blue-ray is £45 that I’ll never see again. I’ll make sure not to inhale any fumes while I burn that shit to the ground.

BUT, if the plot of the film gives us reason to believe that the news of Natasha’s demise might have been greatly exaggerated then that end credit scene is the most perfect way to say goodbye to Natasha Romanoff, Superspy extraordinaire. In this case, the news of Hawkeye are even more welcome because lets remember, he’s the only one who was there in Vormir, the others just had to take his word that Natasha died and, we the viewers? Well, we’re the ones most easily fooled in cases like these. 

So I’d be glad for that end credit scene if and only if Natasha remains out there after having saved her family and is now moving in the shadows, free of the burdens of her past, which brings us to the other spoiler available online

The MacGuffin/ Foxcharge

According to one rumour, the Foxcharge is "a sort of clean slate digital eraser that gets rid of your prints, face, DNA in any government databases” 

I hate MacGuffins. I really do. I hated them before Endgame, and I hate them with a passion now. As long as it takes an entirely secondary role to something else, or works as motivation for other things I don’t mind them. 

Since the entire cast has been that exuberant about their characters and how deeply they’ve been examined in this film, I’m going to assume the MacGuffin does indeed take a secondary role in the greater plot so, ok. 

On a first glance it doesn’t exactly sound like exhilarating storytelling material but, again, it depends a lot on the context. If this film takes place after Civil War, and not after Winter Soldier, why would Natasha be looking for ways to erase her data from databases? It depends a lot on how the film handles it. As a storytelling element it could range anywhere from derivative to exhilarating. Exhilarating it being something that Clint or Yelena use that allows Natasha to disappear entirely after the events of Endgame like the badass superspy she is.

The other theory is the one that insists the stuff Natasha was seen carrying (and is holding in one of the Funko dolls) were Pym Particles, but I find that highly unlikely. Like we’ve said before, if they want to bring Natasha back there’s countless ways for them to do it. I don’t think they’d like to go down the Time Travel road again so while I can’t be entirely sure, I doubt that that’s what this is about.

Yelena is Actually a Bad Guy/Double Agent

That would actually be on brand. If Yelena is to be a member of an as of yet unannounced Thunderbolts team for the MCU and works for Ross during the events of the Black Widow film, it would actually be a good call. 

Because if there’s some kind of “passing of the torch” happening here, at the very least they should make sure to make Yelena and Natasha as different people as possible. It’s bad enough that right now Natasha is considered dead in the MCU, I would’t like to rage for also having her traded in for a younger model. Ew.

Taskmaster Doesn’t Actually Die

Very much a plot element and, to me at least, inconsequential, one way or the other.

Melina Is Actually the One Who Restarts the Red Room

That would also make for a very interesting character, not to mention interesting dynamics within the little family-like unit the characters seem to have in the film.

The Film Makes Natasha Appreciate the American Family She Found in the Avengers

Um.... Duh. That’s not much of a spoiler, although if this is a “Russians Bad, Americans Good” kind of thing- No. Cate wouldn’t do this to us.

We’ve talked about this before, but it seems that this film will help Natasha figure out the things that matter to her, that make her life worth living, that make her realise there are things to live for, not just to die for. And like we’ve said before that makes for a satisfying film, in and of itself, but within the context of Endgame it does come a bit as too-little-too-late.

I did say in the past, and I still believe it, that in order for this film to be satisfying for the fans of Natasha, it can’t pretend Endgame didn’t happen. Or even worse, pretend it didn’t happen and then have an “oh wait, here’s a fake funeral moment with only the Burtons paying their respects to Natasha even though she led the Avengers for 5 years and interacted with almost every single MCU character” moment.

When asked during an interview, Scarlett said that Feige announced to her the Black Widow film, AND Natasha’s death at roughly the same time. And while the Endgame writers chose to ignore Natasha’s film, I’m hoping the Black Widow writing team didn’t ignore Natasha’s fate in Endgame. 

To conclude, while they don’t seem like much, these spoilers show potential. I can understand if some would rather hold their hopes, and to a level I do so as well, but I have placed a lot of trust in the creative team here. We can only hope that they won’t let Natasha down.

[torestoreamends]

A Very Albus Recap (London, 2nd and 21st/22nd March)

I just want to throw out a little Joe Idris-Roberts recap, because he’s been on fire the last couple of times I’ve seen him (Saturday 2nd March and Thursday 21st/Friday 22nd March), and his brilliance deserves all the recognition in the world. Here are just a couple of the new things he’s started doing that I’ve been really excited by.

Blanket scene

There are a couple of things in this one. Firstly, at the beginning of the scene Albus lies down on the bed curled up on his side, with his back to the door. It’s clear that he wants to find his own peaceful bit of space, but he still seems happy enough to interact with his family. When James comes in he lifts his head and looks back to make exasperated eye contact with Ginny, and when Lily comes in he looks round at her and shakes his head to tell her that he hasn’t seen her book. 

As loud and chaotic as his family are, and as out of place among them as he feels, it’s nice to see him existing among them and being himself. He doesn’t have a problem with them being in his room at all really, right up until the point when Harry comes in. That’s when Albus stops relaxing, sits up, and shuffles right up to press himself against the end of his bed, making himself as small as he can. 

Secondly, towards the end of the scene, Albus does the unthinkable – he disrespects the blanket. In a lot of portrayals, even Albus acknowledges that the blanket is a sacred object and takes care of it. There was one memorable performance in which Tom Mackley threw the blanket at Jamie Parker so hard that Jamie didn’t manage to catch it and it fell on the floor. The look on Albus’s face was so full of horror that he clearly understood the magnitude of what he’d accidentally done. But with Joe’s Albus, after a point he doesn’t seem to care anymore. It’s just a mouldy blanket after all. 

In the last performance I saw, once Harry got up off the bed and started talking about packing, Albus swung round to take up the whole space, which meant that he stretched his legs out down the length of the bed and right over the top of the blanket. He was essentially sitting on it, and Harry was absolutely livid. If he’d wanted to rile his dad up, he went about it in exactly the right way. 

Hogwarts through the trees

I’ve never seen this before, but in the performance on Thursday night, Albus somehow managed to enter this scene backwards. Normally the boys walk from the back of the stage into position facing forwards, so they see the view open up ahead of them, but in this one it seemed as though Albus was trying to avoid looking. He didn’t see the view until he was right in position beneath the arch, and then he turned round and his reaction was so sudden and so real. It was a burst of every emotion under the sun, hitting him all in that one moment. 

Joe’s expression in this scene is so profoundly beautiful. It’s everything and nothing all at once. Albus is overwhelmed by what he’s seeing, and he understands how stunning it is, and what it means to Scorpius, but his own relationship to the school is so complex that there’s heartbreak in there too. He wishes Hogwarts could be so uncomplicatedly beautiful to him as it is to Scorpius, but it’s not, and that really hurts. There are tears in his eyes, and he looks so small and sad and inadequate, but of course to Scorpius he’s anything but inadequate, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Joe is a master of saying a thousand different things with one simple, restrained expression. 

Staircase ballet

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do anything that revolutionary character-wise in this scene, so it was actually a surprise to see Joe suddenly do something so different. He’s mentioned before that there are times he’s found the show’s blocking quite restrictive, and I wonder if now the directors’ attention is elsewhere he’s finally getting to show us the things he’s never been allowed to do before. 

He’s always got to the top of the first staircase and acted like he’s found an unexpected dead end, that’s nothing new (although I love how Albus’s path through the school is constantly blocked and thwarted, while the staircases take Scorpius wherever he wants to go – there’s a beautiful metaphor for their relationships with Hogwarts there). What was new was the moment when he ducks through the space beneath where Scorpius is sitting. 

Albus normally moves straight through that space and on up the stairs, but in this one he stayed under there and hid. He peeked out a couple of times to see if Scorpius was gone, clearly trying to avoid him, and when he realised that Scorpius wasn’t moving he sprinted straight up the stairs, like he was running away. 

It was all perfectly timed to the music still, and it was so interesting to see the choreography used to tell a new element of the story. Joe’s Albus’s story has always been that he’s trying to avoid and hide from Scorpius, he won’t even look at him, but this was a new extent. A new layer. 

Library scene 

There are two things to mention in this scene too. The first actually relates heavily to something in another scene. In the Act Four scene in Harry’s office, when Draco says ‘if its takes centuries, we must find our sons’, James has started grabbing the Time-Turner and getting ready to go, finger on the dial, about to search all of time for his son before Harry stops him. And in this scene, that was exactly what Albus tried to do too. 

The second he said ‘you’ve still got the Time-Turner, right?’ and grabbed it out of the bag, he went running across the room with it, finger on the dial, ready to go and get Cedric and Rose back. It changed the wrestling from being about pure ownership of the Time-Turner to being about Scorpius trying to stop Albus from doing something stupid there and then.

The second thing also requires a bit of background explanation. I’ve been furiously trying to figure out Joe’s library and torture scenes for the longest time, and it turns out that once you’ve understood one, you’ve understood them both. He explained to me at stage door that his Albus is a strategist. He doesn’t get scared, he just thinks – he suppresses his emotions in favour of coming up with a plan. So when you see him shutting down and not responding in the moment to Scorpius’s speech or to Delphi’s torture, it’s because Albus is five steps ahead and choosing to delay his emotions for another time. 

More on the torture scene later, but in the library scene he shuts down the second he sees Polly leaving the room. Of course he’s listening to what Scorpius is saying, he’s taking it on board, but he’s aware that McGonagall is going to show up at any second and there’s no time to get emotional. He can’t fix Scorpius’s problems there and then; the top priority is to stop them getting separated again, and that’s exactly what he does. Only when they emerge from under the cloak does Albus finally respond, and what a response. 

In the last show it was actually the beginning of Albus’s apology that was most fascinating. He separated the thoughts about the cloak into two separate instances, so it became both a commentary on his relationship with James and a guilty admission of his own problems. The first part, from ‘Yes I stole this from James’ to ‘his trunk combination is the date he got his first broom’ was joking, mocking his brother, and it finished with a ‘how thick can you get?’ sort of ‘duh’. Then there was a long pause before the second part: ‘I found the cloak made avoiding bullies easier’, which was said so quietly, reluctantly almost, like he didn’t want to admit that he’d had to hide. Maybe he was embarrassed to talk about his life being rubbish after everything Scorpius just said...

Torture scene

I discovered a couple of weeks ago that there’s one line that unlocks Joe’s delivery of the torture scene: ‘The flaw in the Time-Turner, the five minute rule, we do everything we can to run down the cloak’. In that performance it wasn’t a desperate half-baked suggestion being flung out, it was a strategy that Albus had been thinking through since he realised what Delphi was going to do, and he was counting on it to work. 

Everything that comes before that – Scorpius being tortured, Craig’s death, Delphi’s jeering – is all something that Albus can’t bring himself to engage with, because he’s focusing on the goal, which is for him and Scorpius to survive the preamble, get Delphi into the maze, and then lead her a merry dance for five minutes so they get timed out and she can’t use that task to save Cedric. Once again he’s five steps ahead. He has to be. That’s how he’s going to survive this hell, and more importantly it’s how Scorpius is going to survive it.

It isn’t until the moment when Delphi out-manoeuvres him and smashes the Time-Turner that he’s out of control. That’s when the emotion finally kicks in, when suddenly he has no plan at all, his dad is suddenly in horrible danger, and he and Scorpius are lost. 

I’ve found over the last year that if Joe’s not delivering what you expect emotionally from Albus in a situation, there is always, 100% of the time, a really good reason for that. The tricky thing is finding it, but when you do? It’s the most rewarding and exhilarating thing in the world. 

Harry and Ginny find the blanket message

This may be strange to say, but this has truly become one of my favourite scenes in the show with this cast (this and the hospital wing scene have both been unexpectedly gorgeous this year). 

The reason I adore this scene so much is because it’s such a clear assertion from Albus of how he feels about his dad. It’s the moment when Albus decides that he’s going to reach out and repair their relationship, come hell or high water. 

‘We’re starting with Dad’ is the most stunning line. It would be so easy, as Scorpius suggests, to write Harry’s name on the blanket, but Albus is absolutely determined that it’s going to be Dad. Because Harry is his dad, his dad who he loves and misses and wants so desperately. It’s Albus offering the first hand of peace across time and space, from Godric’s Hollow in 1981 to his own bedroom in 2020. There’s something so powerful about that.

The other powerful little gesture in this scene is in a similar vein. Whenever Joe’s Albus sits on a bed, he flips the pillow up so it rests against the bedstead, every single time, and in the last show I noticed that he did it here too. I couldn’t work out at first why that had such an impact, but then @ohscorbus mentioned that Albus doesn’t go back to his room after he runs away in the blanket scene. In fact no one goes in until Harry and Ginny do on Hallow’s Eve to find the blanket, and when they do, Albus is with them, if not in body then in spirit. 

It’s another little act of ownership, it feels like. The only thing that’s been touched in that room is the blanket, which is still at this point very much Harry’s possession – I doubt Albus feels an ownership over it, especially after how he treated it – so the first person to move anything is Albus, across space and time, and it’s to make the space more comfortable for himself. It’s one of those little things that he’d do to take ownership of the room if he were really there and planning to sit on the bed and do homework or whatever. 

Albus taking up his own space, taking ownership of it, inhabiting it, is so important a step for him. He’s uncomfortable and unhappy everywhere it seems, and little things like that feel like a step on the journey towards feeling better.

The penultimate scene

There’s no convoluted meta here, just a good, old fashioned hug. I absolutely love how when Scorpius hugs Albus in this scene, Joe’s Albus gets entirely lost in it for a second. There’s a moment when he forgets himself and buries his face in Scorpius’s shoulder. It’s a very long, peaceful moment. And of course it ends with him remembering that they don’t hug, but it’s so very clear initially that there’s nothing he wants in the world more than Scorpius’s hugs. There’s a solace between the two of them, and it’s still and pure and beautiful. They feel at home together, and I suppose that in the moment of that hug, before his brain kicks in, Albus has never felt more at home anywhere than with his best friend. 

[royalromancefanfic]

Chapter 1

“Leonie!” I heard my name being called and scanned the busy space around me. Passengers were arriving from all over the world to most likely get the best of Switzerland’s most picturesque skiing and snowboarding resorts. I soon found the voice that was calling my name. Once I had spotted where the voice had come from I walked closer to it.

“Hey!” I beamed in reply.

“So pleased you’re here.” Van said immediately moving in to kiss both of my cheeks. 

His dark brown hair was casually swept back. It had to be around 8pm, and the sun had long since disappeared but his sunglasses sat firmly on his bed of thick hair. He looked tanned, making me think he must’ve caught some rays earlier. He stood tall wearing a white oxford shirt which was rolled at the sleeves, casual dark wash jeans and some loafers.

“You look amazing.” He was way too complimentary, considering I was wearing a leather jacket, white tshirt, black jeans and flats. My tousled hair was left down - my makeup was non existent. “It’s so good to see you.” He beamed not letting me get much of a word in. He was excited. “How was your flight?”

Thomas van Staubenzee was all you imagined an Aristo’ to be like - very well groomed, very well spoken, and very well connected - but he also had an absolute heart of gold. Funnily enough, he was always the nicest guy in the room. Well to me anyway.

“Quick...quite short actually.” I smiled after answering his question. Getting to Sion from Geneva was quicker than I’d expected. Also, flights from London to Geneva were plenty. “How’s your mother and father? Both well?”

“They’re both great. Father is really excited for Louis’ next ski trip.”

“Yeah, papa is always going on about it.” I laughed lightly as I put my mobile phone into my handbag to free up my hands. “He’s always talking about how it needs to be bigger and better than last year and the year before. He’s looking forward to seeing your father and everyone else soon.” Every year my father would host a group of his closest friends at the van Staubenzee’s chalet. He loved his annual ski trip.

“Pardon me,” Van reached for my pull along suitcase. “How extremely rude of me. Let me help you with that.”

“I’ve got it.” I fanned him off. It’s not too heavy. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asked wide eyed.

“Yes. It’s okay. Thanks Van.” I smiled at him gratefully.

“When are the rest of the crew arriving?” He wondered. Going back to the nature of my visit.

I’d almost forgot that I was in Switzerland for a shoot. British Vogue were shooting a winter lookbook with a group of Victoria Secret models - who also happened to be some of my closest friends/ex colleagues - at Van’s father’s chalet. I had sourced the location for the shoot and as Creative Director, was there to make sure everything fell into the right place.

“Tomorrow.” I’d taken an earlier flight in to make sure everything was good. “I’ll send a car to pick them up in the morning.”

“Terrific!” I knew Van was still pumped that I’d chosen his family chalet as the backdrop to our shoot. “Alright. Let’s head to the chalet.” His hands came together and he rubbed them. “Lady, your chariot awaits!” He led the way, leading me out the busy airport and to his car. It was a short 40 minute drive to his family’s chalet. However, once we’d pulled up I could only marvel at the cabin and the scenery. 

Van had shown me the infinite number of spacious rooms and relaxation spots (game room, gym, hot tub, pool and sauna) around the estate. We settled on the private balcony. The space was lit up well. It was also helped by the lights of the other chalets surrounding it.

Verbier, Switzerland had a certain air to it. Van’s estate was perfect.

It reminded me of my childhood. My winter breaks were spent sliding down the slopes, sledging with my younger sister and exploring winter walkways with my parents. The flour-white snow covered the dreamy heights of Verbier. The air smelt fresh and woody at the same time. And that was just the beautiful scenery. 

The actual chalet  had a spectacular view of the surrounding village and mountains.  

I took a deep breath and smiled. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Van could see the smile playing on my lips. I nodded. “You just wait until the morning. The whole place looks a lot better.”

I leant against the side of the balcony as my ears immediately picked up some noise. I cast my eyes around to see and hear where the music and loud drunken laughter was coming from. It was coming from the chalet to the right. “Looks like someone’s having a good time.” I laughed pointing to where the noise was coming from. I could see a group of guys and just about make out someone dancing on a table. “Doesn’t your family own that one too?” I wondered out loud. 

Van walked over to where I was and leant over the balcony. “Oh yes, that would be f*cking Skippy.” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s my best friend’s stag do this weekend.” He looked down at his watch to check the time. “They’re off their heads already!”

I imagined a bunch of hammered toffs dancing on the tables and drunkenly singing Wonderwall at the top of their lungs. 

“I should go...” He excused himself. “If you need anything this weekend, just give me a call.” He tapped his phone and began making his way out. He suddenly stopped himself. He turned back to me. “Actually, why don’t you come for a drink?” He suggested.

“A drink?” I repeated, thinking about it as I said it. 

“Yes, you know a liquid... that you ingest. The alcoholic kind is usually my preference.” He laughed. “Ohhh come on -” Before I could protest he squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll introduce you to the boys...”

And that’s where it all started.

>>

The chalet was almost identical to the one the shooting crew and I were staying at. 

Van grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me through the crowd of rowdy, drunk, happy toffs. The crowd parted easily, as he yelled and greeted guys on our way through it. Van was such a bubbly people person - it didn’t shock me. I was the only fully-clothed female in the room, so I think that caused some interest.

I heard a few hellos and questions of who I was, but both Van and I chose to ignore them. I noticed how quite a few of the guys looked and dressed the same.

“Here, take a drink.” Van picked up a glass of champagne from one of the practically-naked waitresses. She was wearing a skimpy gold two-piece with sequins. Her hair was snatched back into a sleek pony tail and her lipstick was a powerful crimson red. She was stunning, but I couldn’t help but feel bad - she wasn’t using her body in the right way. Van presented the glass of bubbly to me. “Looks like we’re about to toast to the groom.”

“The groom?” I whispered, more so wondering who he was. 

“Soon to be groom!” Van laughed and pointed out a tall guy who could barely stand up. He was covered in glitter and confetti. “It’s his stag do.”

The taller guy with deep brown/reddish curly locks raised his glass. He addressed the circle that had formed around him. “To good friends, good times and my last f*cking weekend as a free man!” He began sloshing around the large beer he had in his hand. 

The guys cheered. “To Skippy!” Another with dark spikey hair and supple rosey cheeks chimed in.

“To Skippy!” The grouped repeated before downing their glasses.

I let my glass sit between my lips before sipping slowly. I looked up to have my eyes connect with someone else’s. All I saw were giant blue orbs.

My eyes held the stare for a while, before I snapped out of it. I looked across at the face that was staring back at me. What. The. Heck? I hadn’t expected to see him here, but I kind of wasn’t surprised either - it was Britain’s aristo’ crowd after all. Plus it wouldn’t surprise me that he was connected to Van. Van knew everyone...

He was the first to cave. Looking away bashfully. 

I lowered my eyes and decided to distract myself with my phone. I found an empty space to my left and leant against the wall. I found that I had a couple of texts from Jas and Chrissy. 

Jasmine: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow chica. About to board my flight that’s taking me Europe bound. Picking us up from the airport? x

Chrissy: Borrowing your green skirt. Hope you don’t mind...

I quickly text them both back. Before I could look up and switch from iMessage to an app I felt someone’s presence to the left of me. I hesitated at first, because I had endured loud chat already. I looked up slightly and was met with a smile. I was taken aback slightly that I could only stare. 

“Do you ever blink?” He teased slightly. “I reckon you have a good poker face.” He leaned down a bit. He was much taller than I’d imagined. I was 6 foot, but he still lingered over me.

“Sorry?” I only snapped out of my daze at the last second. I immediately began to smell his strong but subtle fragrance. His blue orbs were drawing me in once more. I only then began tracing his face with my eyes. His beard was full and ginger, but slightly darker than his hair. 

“Harry.” He extended his hand, sharing his name like as if I had no clue as to who he was. He wasn’t just Harry. He was Prince Henry of Wales. I gulped slightly. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over.”

I looked down at his large open hand and shook it. “Leonie.” I played it cool. 

“Leonie.” He repeated after me, as he nodded and deepened his smile. It was almost like he was making sure he remembered my name. “That’s a lovely name. Pleasure to meet you.” His voice was way deeper and soothing than I expected. “Are-”

He was cut off as Van swooped into the mini semi-circle we’d created. “Leonie, I almost forgot to show you the best thing about your chalet. Want to follow me?” He was bursting to show me. He glanced at Harry and then realised he was interrupting something. He patted his friend on the back and winked. “Sorry Wales, I’m going to have to steal this one away.”

Before I knew it Van was taking me under his wing and showing off a private entrance to the ski lift that took you up to the mountain’s less busy slopes. “British Vogue will love this!” He smiled.

[tamushins-blog]

ENG Translations for Arisawa Shoutarou & Takahashi Kensuke’s Castsize March Special 2017 feature!!

Hello! Under the Read More are my translations for Arisawa Shoutarou & Takahashi Kensuke’s feature in Castsize March Special 2017 magazine! The scans for their feature are not provided in this post. Hope you enjoy!!

Introduction

From Musical Touken Ranbu Bakumatsu Tenrouden; Arisawa Shoutarou-san who plays the beloved sword of Hijikata Toshizo of the Shinsengumi, Izuminokami Kanesada, and Takahashi Kensuke-san who plays the uchigatana, Hachisuka Kotetsu, which was smithed by the swordsmith Kotetsu who was active in the Edo period. This pair, who met each other for the first time in this production, have truly deepened their bond with each other in less than half a year. 

It’s their first interview together, and they’re dressed in matching outfits!? What is Toumyu to these two people?

Q1: What were your first impressions of each other?

Kensuke: The first time we met each other face-to-face, we were in our Toumyu costumes, and I thought he looked really stylish. He looked really tall from behind, but his face looked around the same age as mine, and I had this feeling that he was the youngest one out of all of us. That’s the first impression I got of him.

Shoutarou: I actually talked to him when we were at the audition, but it seems Kensuke-kun has forgotten about that. (laugh)

Kensuke: Ah...... (laugh)

Shoutarou: I recognised Kensuke-kun from Ultraman. (laugh) My first impression of him was.....................................................

Kensuke: Are you going to say something nice?

Shoutarou: Ahaha. (laugh) My very first impression when I saw him at the audition was, naturally, the thought that, “Ah. Ultraman’s here.” The thought that Ultraman wanted to be in Toumyu too - that was my first impression of him. That, as well as the thought that Kensuke-kun would definitely be cast as Hachisuka.

Kensuke: Well, that makes me happy to hear.

Q2: How does it feel to give life to the Touken Danshi, who have always been stuck in their game? Really, how does it feel to bring something from the computer screen into real life?

Shoutarou: It’s a really great feeling. I’m extremely different from the character I play, so I’m really happy when people tell me, “You really are Izuminokami.” Before this, I was already very interested in history, but I feel that I found a far deeper understanding of the Shinsengumi through this role.

Kensuke: Something I like about Toumyu is that when we see the characters we’re going to play, it’s as if we’re only looking at them from one side. It’s up to us, the actors, to each try and interpret and understand our characters’ expressions and personalities based on their immobile images, and then bring them to life. The final product is what we created with constructive criticism from Kayano-san (the Toumyu director) and his staff, and from there on, we want to see what the audience’s evaluation of it is. That’s how this production has become so widely popular, and personally, I’ll be really happy if I’ve managed to show everyone a brand new side of Hachisuka Kotetsu.

Q3: I see. Then, do you feel like you have gained anything from being in Toumyu?

Kensuke: Right now, I feel that my personal target in the 2.5D industry is for myself to overcome the barrier that I face in the skills of singing and dancing. When I watched “Romeo & Juliet” recently, I noticed that nearly everything was being expressed through song. All 65 performances of Toumyu have already been completed, but after seeing this different way of expressing oneself, I suddenly got the feeling that I wanted to try doing it again. But I realised that my own skills in singing and dancing aren’t at the level where I can do something like that yet, so that was when I found this new goal to set my sights on.

Shoutarou: Because I played the role of the manly Izuminokami, I gained self-confidence. I learned that my self-confidence waits until something good happens to me before it appears. This production was the first musical I’ve been in, just like Kensuke-kun, and I think that the singing and dancing was the main attraction of this production, so as a result, I now also feel like I want to try doing more singing and dancing in this industry.

Q4: I’m sure the two of you have gone through many experiences together at this point. Have any of them left an unshakeable impression on you?

Kensuke: The performance at Itsukushima Shrine was truly an incredible experience. When the Sanjou swords were performing on the raised stage, we could only watch them from behind, but the view that could only be seen from where we were is one that I just can’t forget. We could see the Torii - what it looked like at night - as well as the faces of all the people in the audience. There was a very dignified atmosphere there, and it made me wonder whether or not the audience would really be able to cheer loudly. Even the air there tasted different. The experience of climbing onto the raised stage and dancing wasn’t particularly easy either. I- This isn’t one of my strongest points, so I can’t properly express what I felt when performing at Itsukushima Shrine, but I will say that I really felt like the atmosphere there was something special.

Shoutarou: The feeling that we got to stand somewhere that we would otherwise never have gotten the chance to stand at in our lives is really strong. Of course, at the time of the performance, there were problems that arose, but overall it was an amazing experience anyway. I don’t really believe that putting my feelings into words is one of my strongest points either, but.. I felt an extremely strong power within me when we were there. Aside from that, I also encountered this feeling that Itsukushima Shrine itself is a place that truly contains a lot of power. It really was an incredible experience.

Q5: So that’s how the two of you feel. The two of you met for the first time in Toumyu, but over the long period of Bakuten performances, you’ve built a very close relationship with each other, haven’t you?

Kensuke: I’ve spent about half a year with Arisawa since the start of rehearsals, and at this point, we don’t use proper punctuation anymore when we text each other, and we do stuff like go out for dinner together after performances. Arisawa is one year younger than me, but because I was raised downtown, I don’t want to let people who are younger than me pay for me. So during meal times, I’ll take out my wallet to pay, but something cute about this guy is that he’ll say once, “No, I’ll pay.” It’s natural for him to want to pay, and when I realised that, I thought it was adorable.

Shoutarou: Kensuke-kun is easy to get close to. He doesn’t always make you feel like he’s older than you, and he gives you this feeling that, “You can mess around with me.” I talk about plays with him even when we go out to eat together, and he’s always really serious about it. No matter what he’s doing, he’ll put in effort to go about doing it the right way.

Q6: Please tell me what projects the two of you have lined up from here on.

Kensuke: For the first half of last year, I was working on Ultraman X, and for the second half I was working on Toumyu. At the very start of this year I went back to Ultraman X again, and I realised that my movements had unintentionally become more graceful than they were the last time, and I had made improvements in, as well as gotten rid of, some of both the good and bad expressions that I’d made. Since I’ll be performing in Musical Starmyu starting this April, I’ll do my best to polish and refine the skills of singing and dancing that were cultivated in me while I was in Toumyu.

Shoutarou: As for me, I was working on Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu!! for the first half of the year, and Toumyu for the second half of the year. Starting this March, I’ll be in Haikyuu!! again, and this time, I want to be able to make people say, “He’s levelled up,” about the Kunimi that I show them, as compared to the Kunimi that I showed them the last time. The last time, I had this consciousness that what I wanted to do was to show everyone Aoba Jousai as a team, but this time, I feel like I want to focus more on showing everyone Kunimi’s true colours, and deepening everyone’s understanding of Kunimi. I’m really looking forward to it.

Kensuke: I want to go watch Haisute!

Shoutarou: I’ll go watch Starmyu as well! Because I’ll get to see you sing and dance, won’t I, Kensuke-kun?

Kensuke: Alright! I’ll show you just how far my skills will have levelled up by then!

- End of interview -

Bonus fun fact (that got a little lost in translation): - in their replies to Q4, Kensuke & Shoutarou both referred to the ability to phrase their words properly to fully convey their emotions and thoughts as “not one of [their] power spots( パワースポット )”

In case anyone is interested to read the interview in Japanese (perhaps your Japanese is stronger than mine, or you’re interested to see the exact expressions they used) here is a link to the original untranslated questions & answers! I translated this interview to the best of my ability, but of course there’s still a chance that my translations are not 100% accurate, in which case I apologise! If any of you spot me making any mistakes, please do let me know and I’ll update the post!

[samart394-blog]

The Sky- A YoonSeok fanfic

The roof of the BigHit building was beautiful. More specifically, the view was beautiful. Hoseok loved the sky. Judging from his cheerful personality, people normally assumed he was a morning person. Blue skies, bright sunlight. But no- the sunset. That was his favourite time. Watching as the sky grew darker gradually, while the sun sank among fluffy clouds, bright pink and lavender and orange streaking the cobalt blue sky, the first of the stars rising and twinkling, like messengers announcing the arrival of the moon. Their schedule didn't exactly permit him to go up to the roof every single day for the sunset. There were days when he'd enter the recording studio or dance room in the morning and not even realise that the hours had flown by and the sky had turned pitch black. Today was one of his lucky days. They had to work, of course, but they had some freedom to do it their own way. No choreographers, no directors. Jungkook and Jimin were dancing, and Jin and Taehyung were singing. Hoseok had been working with the rap line on new tracks for their upcoming album, but it was a slow work day. The others were frustrated too, Yoongi more than anyone. The floor of the small workroom was soon littered with crumpled up pieces of paper and broken pencils. Hoseok had suggested they go up to the roof after Yoongi broke his fourth pencil. His fingers were red by then, and he stood up quickly, walking over to him and taking his hand, tugging him up. "Roof," he said simply. Namjoon, who had been watching them carefully, jumped up at the suggestion. "Yes, air," he groaned. Yoongi let out a sigh, gently disengaging his hand from Hoseok's and nodded his assent. Hoseok tried not to feel stung by that. He knew it was necessary. Besides, Yoongi was preoccupied. He was leaning against the wall now, furiously scribbling in his notebook. Namjoon was sitting next to Hoseok, looking at the sky and clutching his own notebook. They were scribbling down rhymes, counting beats. Well... trying to. Hoseok's eyes kept flicking to the black-haired boy in the corner. He'd never been to the roof with Yoongi during the sunset. They only came up after dark. When there was no light and no peering eyes, and the dark shadows permitted them to touch softly and steal kisses. The night always kept their secret. The day wasn't to be trusted. "Hoseok-ah. How's it coming along?" Hoseok flicked his eyes back to his notebook again, the page was embarrassingly blank. "Uh... Sorry. It's just been-" "We can write tomorrow. Today's just a slow day," the leader comforted. Hoseok nodded, only half-hearing him as his gaze went back to Yoongi, who was clutching his hair in annoyance. He got like this sometimes, when he got no sleep or food and he missed his family and couldn't get the music right, and the weight settled on his shoulders again and again. Hoseok knew he didn't have an easy life. He knew what his lyrics meant to him, and he understood firsthand the frustration of being unable to express the pain. Hoseok desperately wanted to take him into his arms, to thread his fingers in his hair, to tell him it would be alright, that he loved him. "Maybe I should go practice some choreo. God knows I need it." Hoseok snapped back into reality, bringing his eyes up to meet Namjoon's alert ones. They all knew. Of course they did, how could they hide it? The dark could hide kisses but nothing could hide the feelings in their eyes for long enough, especially considering how close they all were. No one mentioned it though, not once. For all of their sakes. Hoseok could tell Namjoon hated having to keep silent about it. Jin too. He could see the concern pouring out of them, at all times. The younger three were worried too, but he tried not to think about that part. That broke his heart. He wished he could assure them that it was all okay. He tried, this time, to say it, without having to actually say it. "No, let's all just eat, okay? Tell the others. I'll- we'll be down soon." Namjoon understood. He always did. They were all exhausted and sleepless. There was no point in doing anything but gathering for a family dinner. He stood up and walked to the door, flicking his eyes to Yoongi and offering Hoseok a reassuring smile before leaving. The minute he left, Hoseok jumped up, practically running to the other boy. "Hey," he whispered, gently lifting his head. Yoongi's face was wet with tears, but his eyes were still resolute. Fire burned in them. He'd let that fire burn out before, but he rekindled it again and again, and Hoseok felt a fierce wave of pride and love rise in his chest. "We can work tomorrow," Hoseok said gently. "I hate this I hate this I hate this-" "Yoongi." "It won't- it won't fucking WORK" Yoongi said, his voice breaking. "I know. We can do it tomorrow. Please. You need to rest." "No- no, I have to finish this- you can't just... you have to LET ME-" he said, almost wildly. "Yoongi." Hoseok said firmly, "look up." "Huh?" "Look up." The sun was finally gone, and the colours were exploding. The sky was a deep shade of purple, the clouds pink. There was a glow cast across the entire world. Hoseok felt a smile spread across his face, despite the situation. Yoongi fell silent, and Hoseok tore his gaze away from the sky and onto his face. It was frozen, his mouth half-open and his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Hoseok found himself leaning in. "It's not dark yet," Yoongi said, in a hoarse whisper. Hoseok knew he was right. He was right, and he wished it didn't matter. But it did. So he nodded and pulled back, gently bringing his hand up to brush Yoongi's cheek. "We'll work tomorrow. You'll work tomorrow. It's okay to be tired. Look- even the sun is giving up for today." Yoongi looked at him then... and he smiled. It was a small smile. A tiny stretch of the lips that somehow conveyed a heartbreaking amount of love and wonder and gratitude. God. Hoseok loved that smile more than he loved the sunset sky. He took Yoongi's hand to help him stand up, but didn't let go even after. They went downstairs wordlessly, both of them understanding enough through their linked fingers. The room fell silent when they walked in. Everyone looked up in unison, staring at their faces and then their hands. Jin was the first to break the silence. "Hurry up or there'll be no food left" he said with a smile. "Yeah, Jungkook is eating it all," Taehyung declared, grinning. The youngest gasped dramatically and punched his friend's shoulder. Namjoon caught Hoseok's eye and smiled, genuinely. Hoseok felt the understanding pass between them. He hoped he did a good enough job of conveying his gratitude. Yoongi was smiling at them, his family, not noticing the exchange. They could work tomorrow. Hoseok wasn't usually one for prayers, but holding Yoongi's hand under the table, he silently thanked the sky.

[colp76-blog]

Hello and welcome back to my Journey into Science-Fiction Part:15. I was thinking of a way to watch science-fiction films that I have never watched before, plus an opportunity to learn more about the ones I had already seen. It’s quite a simple idea really, but all have to do is find a connection with each film in order to continue my journey.

In Part:14, I watched David Cronenberg’s The Fly and if you are wondering how it brought me to Wolfgang Petersen’s Enemy Mine, please click on the link above.

Now to get started on Enemy Mine 1985, directed by Wolfgang Petersen is a film based on the novel by the same name by Barry B. Longyear. It began production in 1984 but after “creative differences” the first director Richard Loncraine stood down to let Peterson take over and create his own vision for the film. The budget for the film was originally set at $17 million but eventually cost over $40 million, resulting in Enemy Mine becoming a Box Office Bomb. Like all quality science-fiction films though, it survived and has become a cult favourite amongst fans.

I have only watched Enemy Mine once or maybe twice before in my life and that was a long time ago, but I do remember it felt special and pretty unique for its time. So, with that in mind I was really worried that the passage of time was about to ruin those memories, I guess that’s some real first world problem right there.

The film starts in the late 21st Century and mankind has achieved peace on Earth but is still at war, only this time it’s in space against a race of reptilian humanoids called the Dracs. Willis E. Davidge Dennis Quaid is a fighter pilot who spends his time living on a fortress in space and only really remembers Earth as a precious memory. Davidge is caught up in a dogfight that leaves him determined on killing his enemy, but in fact, only leaves him killing his co-pilot and leaving him and a Drac, Jeriba Shigan Louis Gossett, Jr stranded on a remote planet.

The planet is called Fryine IV and is mysterious, desolate and lifeless. Davidge after taking care of funeral arrangements for his dead friend is ready for more retribution against a species he has never even set eyes on before. Jeriba, on the other hand, decides to have a dance in the rain and go for a swim, until Davidge tries to burn him alive. Jeriba captures Davidge and instead of killing him, ties him up instead. During an argument, they realise the real enemy is, in fact, the planet itself and they both run for cover. Davidge wakes up next to Jeriba and finally has a clear chance to kill him but changes his mind at the last moment, eventually showing some compassion for his enemy. Davidge realises that if they are to survive they will have to work together and starts to build a camp, much to Jeriba’s amusement as it falls to the ground. I have to say the character development by Louis Gossett, Jr in this scene is really amazing and what a way to bring so much warmth to Jeriba and break the ice between him and Davidge.

Jeriba now known as Jerry and Davidge are talking to each other in English, but there is still some hostility between the pair until Jerry saves Davidge’s life from an indigenous creature. Davidge acknowledges to Jerry that he could he have let him die and their friendship is cemented even more, on top of that Davidge realises they can use shells from another creature to help protect their home from meteor showers, bringing some short-lasting harmony to the camp. That’s until Davidge and Jerry struggle to get back to home during yet another meteor shower and Davidge accuses Jerry of becoming fat and lazy, resulting in them nearly killing each other. Davidge says they need to move on if they are to survive but Jerry decides its safer to stay and they both go their separate ways.

Davidge is left wandering the desolate planet for days until he finally finds something of real significance, some empty Pepsi cans proving the humans have been there recently, unfortunately, there is also the skull of a Drac. He realises its scavengers that have been on the planet, and they use Dracs as slaves for mining facilities. Davidge returns to his friend and decides it’s better not to tell him about his grizzly discovery but there is some even greater news to share, Jerry is pregnant!

Davidge and Jerry really can’t catch a break as tragedy strikes again. The creature that nearly killed Davidge attacks them and destroys their home, forcing them to seek refuge in the mountains. Jerry asks Davidge to tell him about his family history and in return will share his lineage with him. Jerry asks Davidge to return his child to the Drac homeworld and share his and Jerry’s lineage with them. Jerry is in labour and is ready to die but Davidge is having none of it and explains he has no experience of raising a child. After watching his friend die, Davidge is left to cut the baby from Jerry’s warm body.

Jerry’s offspring, Zammis Bumper Robinson grows a lot quicker than a human child and is soon running around and also becoming curious about his race and the difference between him and his uncle, who he has created a very strong bond with. The scavengers return to Fryine IV and Davidge warns Zammis to keep away from them without explaining the truth about their intentions. Ignoring his uncle and wanting to know more about the visitors, Zammis goes to the mining facility and is captured by the scavengers. Davidge is not far behind and manages to kill one of the scavengers, but he is unable to save his nephew and is left for dead on the planet.

  Davidge is later found by a patrol ship and returned to the fortress he came from. After a very impersonal funeral ceremony, he wakes up speaking Drac’s language and is saved by a medical team. He is accused of working with the enemy but that will not stop him stealing a ship to go and help rescue Zammis from the scavengers. Davidge locates the mining facility on Fryine IV and with the help of the Drac’s who recognise him as “uncle” eventually finds Zammis. He also finds Stubbs, Brion James who points out that he killed his brother on their first encounter. The Drac slaves have an uprising against the scavengers, leaving Davidge to kills Stubbs. Davidge is finally reunited with his nephew as the crew from the fortress arrive and the mining facility is shut down.

Davidge and Zammis return to the Drac homeworld for Zammis’s heritage ceremony. As he had promised Jerry,  Davidge recites the complete Jeriba ancestry before the Holy Council. The narrator says, “… and when, in the fullness of time, Zammis brought its own child before the Holy Council, the name of ‘Willis Davidge’ was added to the line of Jeriba.”

Well, I have to say, I really enjoyed going back and watching this film, it’s just a really great story. Watching Davidge transform from a soldier to Jerry’s friend, and later Zammis’s parent is quite extraordinary and really makes you think about how people interact with each other in everyday life. This is what science-fiction does best, it takes real-life issues and shows you how pointless some of these “issues” are when it comes down to the crunch. The special effects do look pretty dated but it looks like a classic B-movie and can get away with it. I guess the wonderful soundtrack by Maurice Jarre certainly helped create that feeling, as some of the music on this score took me back to some of the glorious black and white sci-fi shows of the past, amazing work. Wolfgang Peterson, the cast and everyone involved really did create a great film, and one I glad I revisited because these kinds of stories should always be told.

I can’t wait to get started on Part:16 of my Journey into Science-Fiction but what will I be watching next? I was thinking about watching Solar Crisis as Maurice Jarr wrote the score for that film also. In second place was the film Outland that was produced by  Stanley O’Toole who worked on Enemy Mine as well. But the winner is Dreamscape that stars Dennis Quaid but also has a soundtrack composed by Maurice Jarre. I actually haven’t seen this film but I cant wait to watch it.

Thank you for reading. What do you think about Enemy Mine? Please leave me a comment below and again, thanks for your time.

Enemy Mine, 1985. My Journey into Science-Fiction Part 15. Hello and welcome back to my Journey into Science-Fiction Part:15. I was thinking of a way to watch science-fiction films that I have never watched before, plus an opportunity to learn more about the ones I had already seen.

[cocoatothrill]

Shipping Chocolate Shoes, as seen on Channel 5

Please don’t Melt!

If you're wondering how we shipped over 100 Cocoa To Thrill Chocolate Shoes into the desert - we're here for you!

"People Deliver Chocolate All Over The World...Right?"

When we received the call asking us to bring our Cocoa To Thrill Chocolate Shoes  to Arab Fashion Week, we did a little dance and jumped for joy. Arabia, how exotic, how beautiful, how…hot! In our chocolate celebration we neglected to consider the challenge ahead of us. In an attempt to comfort ourselves we placated ourselves with this “People deliver chocolate all over the world right, we can do this”. At this point we had no idea whether chocolate had ever been imported into Dubai or indeed who had ever done it.

We weren’t just taking bars of chocolate either, we were taking delicate, fragile, beautiful yes but extremely fragile chocolate shoes into the dessert. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially since our precious cargo hadn’t even been out of London let alone 4639.5 miles away.

Being the mavericks that we are, lead by an unperturbed boss lady, we ventured into the unknown and began lovingly producing our chocolate masterpieces one by one. We fielded countless questions about how we were going to make sure it wasn’t going to melt by smiling through the insanity, “People deliver chocolate all over the world” became our mantra, not chocolate shoes mind, but stop picking holes in our plan.

Channel 5's, The Wonderful World of Chocolate, watches the whole ordeal

This task in front of us was similar to when Richard Branson decides to do another epic but dangerous adventure. We love Richard Branson, so why not. However we added a little more danger into the mix when

Channel 5 contacted us and said they wanted to film us on this dangerous adventure, we did another chocolate dance, paused to think, “what if we can’t do it” and then relished the thrill, this was going to be more than a hot balloon ride.

Researching the problem with no time...

The research into how we were actually going to get over 100 chocolate shoes to Dubai didn’t actually start until most of the chocolate shoes for Fashion Week were completed. Some might see this as slightly risky business move, but don’t forget the mantra.

Our first thought was to put our chocolate shoes on a refrigerated plane, “they have those right?”. Tah dah, we’ve solved it. Of course, it’s not that simple. Access to resources on how to get our chocolate shoes onto a refrigerated plane was limited and no one was really able to tell us how exactly to do it. Shipping companies like Fed Ex and DHL provide this service but they expect you to be a massive company shipping huge refrigerated shipments a month, “Oh, that’s how people deliver chocolate all over the world”. We found that being a bespoke, small but perfectly formed company was not the best outfit to get international shipping done. Worst of all it took weeks to get to this conclusion, countless phone calls and dead ends and guess what, fashion week was only 2 weeks away. In our defence we only had 5 weeks to get over 100 chocolate shoes to Dubai, another chocolate madness we will save for another blog.

Work it out in an Uber

It was 10 days to go and our team was zipping to Chelsea in an Uber. We had to shoot an advert for the big screen at Fashion Week. We had only had 3 days to work on this, (another blog). Channel 5 were coming to film us and we still hadn’t found a plan to get over 100 shoes to the desert without melting. You’d think we’d be a little stressed. Our girl boss, Samona Williams,  loves a list, and she had a very long one in that Uber. The strategy was to phone as many third-party shipping companies as possible until someone could do it. Apparently she learnt this strategy from Bill Gates. She said, “It’s simple maths, you can try a 100 and get 100 no’s but 101th call will say yes."

Ten minutes away, fielding anxious calls from cast and crew and around 5 calls in, we got our answer. Thank you chocolate angels. You see, we had been approaching things a little too over the top, as is our general mood here at Cocoa To Thrill. Neil, the amazing refrigerated shipping expert at

Rhenus Logistics Liverpool

told us that we didn’t actually need to go on a refrigerated plane. Made sense, chocolate isn’t actually refrigerated, in fact the ideal temperature for our chocolate shoes and any chocolate for that matter is 12-15 degrees. “Oh, so we need temperature controlled, sounds expensive”. For those wondering, temperature controlled shipping does exist and usually used for medicines and can be temperature controlled within the degree in special boxes. These shipments are usually small and yes,  it is expensive. You can find out more here.

Thankfully Neil was a little more practical in his approach. Gel packs. “Gel packs? No surely they can’t keep the shipment cold enough in the dessert.” And further anxiety inducing in this conversation is that the shipment could not be delivered to the UAE in a day, as we had previously thought, it actually would take three days. Three days, surviving with just gel packs, impossible.

5 minutes to the ad shoot, the director can’t get into to the Fort Knox secure location (we’d tell you who lives there but we can’t). The rest of the crew are looking for props and we talking about gel packs and what seems like the longest shipping time in the world. Luckily for us, Neil was wise and experienced. He explained that the chocolate had to be packed a certain way and with the right amount of gel packs our chocolate shoes could easily be kept cold for three days, “I won’t tell you 100% they are not going to melt, but I haven’t had many casualties”. Thanks Neil super encouraging.

Neil Says

"To be honest the UK side wasn’t an issue and never worried me.  We made it clear to transport how fragile the shipment was and that we needed to handle with super care and attention.My main concern was initially the heat in Dubai.  We send shipments to Dubai pretty much on a weekly basis.  Most will travel frozen and we will pack with additional coolants to combat the extensive heat.  I then saw that all chocolate shoes were handmade with fancy decorations and pearls attached.  Upon looking at Cocoa’s Website I quickly realised how difficult the job in had was going to be.  I literally didn’t sleep for the next few days!"

In business, you have to take a certain amount of risk, especially when there’s no choice and your pulling into the gates of the filming location to the expectant faces of the crew. The Uber driver looks at us expectantly. “Oh we have to get out here? We’ll do it Neil”. This is how it went down. We jumped out of the car and were faced with the whole new problem of getting all the shots we needed, with no time, a channel 5 crew and the wrong lighting kit. If you’re interested to see how the ad turned out, click here.

How Do You Wrap and Package Chocolate Shoes?

Of course, the story didn’t end with a frenzied shoot day. Once we wrapped we realised that no-one had dealt with the fragility of shipping chocolate shoes. Chocolate yes, but chocolate shoes, that have delicate temperaments, no. We set about packing and packaging. There were reems of bubble wrap, there were late nights and disgusting stale sandwiches. There were kind family members and polystyrene beads in our hair,  all the time.

Refrigerated Chocolate Truck!

We worked like crazy and Neil sent us an amazing temperature controlled truck to pick up our very well wrapped chocolate shoes just 6 days before we were due to fly to Dubai. Channel 5 were on hand to shoot the whole heart wrenching experience, “It’s great telly”. Off  our precious chocolate shoes went rattling along the m25 to our pattering heartbeats.

The truck made its way on a 4 hour 20 minute journey, 207.6 miles to Manchester to meet Neil. There , our chocolate shoes bound for Arab Fashion Week in Dubai were packed with their gel packs on palettes. Once they were all packed up the shipment was huge, it weighed 54 kilos, which in shipping terms is not that much but the volume was over 190 kilos. Over 100 shoes went on a large shipping palette and an extra-large shipping box.

Neil Says

“After much discussions between myself and Cocoa To Thrill, I came up with a good idea to keep the chocolate in layers and separate each leg on the pallet with stanchions to give the pallet some strength and the chocolate would not be touching each other and the weight of the top layers not sat on the bottom layers which can cause unwanted damages.  Unfortunately the shipment came in much larger than anticipated.  Initially I thought it was an impossible take but once I had a few moments to take it all in and have a think I realised we had some box pallets in stock which enabled me to pack the shipment ready to export.  The chocolate shoes were already packed quite well by Samona and her team, a lot of time and effort from both companies have clearly gone into the packing of these very fragile shoes.  It allowed me to pack and separate into one large box pallet.  Shipment was packed and coolants placed on the top of the pallet to keep the chocolate nice and cool while in transit and more importantly when the shipment arrived into Dubai.”

This is how you ship chocolate

Our gorgeous and brave chocolate shoes  were packed in a matter of hours, with a whole lot of gel packs,  at a temperature of between 2-8 degrees Celsius and before we knew it, they were on their way to get on their first plane to Germany. Honestly it was like sending kids for their first day of school, excruciating, but you know you have to be brave. In these situations, it’s not a good idea to wonder if all your hard work will melt or break. Our Chocolate Executive Officer (CEO) was having none of it. There was packing to do, outfits to choose, press releases to write. There was no room for “If the shoes get there”, it was simply “when”.

To help with the heat, customs clearance was completed while our chocolate shoes were sat in Germany. We loved the forward thinking. What we didn’t love however was the fact that our chocolate shoes were split up in Germany. Only half of them arrived in Dubai while the others were stuck in Germany. If you’ve ever been separated from a loved one, you will know the sheer panic the was filling the office. Neil was as chill as the box they were travelling in. “Don’t worry” he assured us, “this happens all the time”. To this day we are not quite sure if this is true or whether there was a calm duck frantically treading water beneath the surface kind of situation but thankfully, the next day, the two boxes were reunited in Dubai. The refresh button on the tracking  browser was a little overused during those nail biting 8 hours.

It was heart wrenching, nail biting, chocolate madness all captured by Channel 5 for you all to enjoy. Thankfully our beautiful chocolate shoes arrived in Dubai without melting and not one breakage. "People deliver chocolate all over the world, right". Chocolate magic thinking, isn’t that something. 

We will be posting the  the moment we realised the chocolate shoes were ok  for your viewing pleasure. In the meantime you can watch the whole ordeal on Channel 5, The Wonderful World of Chocolate, Sunday 28th July, 9pm. It will also be available on catch up here after 28th July 2019.Thank you to the team at Rhenus Logistics and Neil, you’re one cool dude.

[hellyescharlesedwards]

The Range in Spades.

By Peter Craven. 

As with everyone, My Fair Lady is an ancient memory for Charles Edwards, who seems to oscillate from the Rex Harrison repertoire to Shakespeare – Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit with Angela Lansbury in the West End and America, but also Oberon to Judi Dench’s Titania, directed by Peter Hall. 

“I was fascinated by it as a child,” he says. “The LP of the original with Rex and Julie [Andrews] I found – I can’t remember how old I would have been, but quite little – but I remember being really fascinated by the wit, even at that stage. I knew it was very clever and very sharp and very English, particularly the way Rex did it.” 

Edwards is the new Henry Higgins in Julie Andrews’ production of My Fair Lady. It’s the Hamlet of high-comedy roles and arguably the greatest of all musicals. So what does he do with Higgins’ sprechgesang? Does he follow the notes or does he do what Rex Harrison did on Broadway in 1956, opposite Andrews’ Eliza Doolittle, hitting a note every so often but speaking his way through? 

“I follow that,” Edwards says, of the latter. “I personally find if you follow the notes in Higgins’ songs, what is revealed to you is that they’re not nearly as much fun. They actually become rather leaden. And what you need with those songs is great lightness and dexterity. 

“I’d been playing around with doing it slightly off the beat, trying to maybe be a little bit clever with it. But Guy Simpson, our brilliant musical director, says it’s much better if you can speak as much as you like but just stick to the beat. It’s more real, there’s more of the character. Higgins knows what he’s saying, he doesn’t have to dither either side of the beat.” Frederick Loewe, after all, wrote it for Harrison, knowing he couldn’t sing. “I think that’s perhaps why if you try to sing more than one should it’s less interesting because it is written for the man who was going to do it like that.” 

Michael Redgrave famously refused the role of Higgins because it meant committing to a long run. How does Edwards feel about a longish stretch of phonetics and feminist musical comedy? “Oh, I could do it for a while,” he says. “I arrived, performed it in Brisbane, and now I’m rehearsing it in a way… for my own satisfaction. Something which would happen in four or six weeks of rehearsal is now happening to me, internally, just myself, finding my way. I feel like I’m still starting out even though the performance is there. I could do it for a bit longer because there is a lot more to explore.” 

I tell him I’ve just watched the recording of him playing Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing – the one role Harrison recorded for Caedmon, which is largely in prose and the Bard’s most Shavian play. “It was really fun,” Edwards says of his stint opposite Eve Best at the Globe in the role with a family resemblance to Higgins. “Julie [Andrews] likes comparing Shaw as the natural successor to Shakespeare in terms of that kind of comedy. I’m very drawn to both of these roles. That was a joy to do.” He adds that he learnt something from the Globe, because it’s rougher, more extroverted theatre. “If it’s done with wit,” he says, “it can be a great crowd-pleaser, without being naff. And I think it has informed my work to such an extent that often since I’ve been told, ‘Just calm down, Charles.’ ” 

When I tell him he was very good as the Tory whip in This House, the parliamentary play by James Graham, done by the National Theatre, he says of the author, “I don’t know how old he is, he’s something annoying like… he’s probably hit 30. I hope he has.” But he adds that at 47 himself he’s probably a bit younger than the received image of Higgins from the film of My Fair Lady, even though Shaw describes him as a pleasant-looking man of 40. It must be odd to inhabit a role with such a powerful acting ghost in the background. 

I once saw Harrison – very, very old – at an airport sweeping past in what looked exactly like the hat and coat he – and Edwards – wears in the opening scene of My Fair Lady in Covent Garden. “There’s a lot, I’m sure, in the production we’ve inherited that he insisted on,” Edwards says. “I’m sure that will be true of the hat … And here we are now, probably wearing the very weave he ordered from a particular tailor.” 

Of course, everyone likes the cut of Higgins’ cloth and would like to make it their own. George Clooney, of all people, is said to have had an eye on the role when Emma Thompson wanted to make a new film of it with Carey Mulligan as Eliza. And with the old George Cukor film, Alan Jay Lerner, treacherously, wanted Peter O’Toole, still in his 30s, rather than Harrison. Like O’Toole, Edwards does both ends of the acting spectrum: the light-as-air prose comedy of Shaw and the poetic majesties of Shakespeare. He worked with Peter Hall, the founder of the Royal Shakespeare Company. 

“I’ve done quite a lot with him,” he says. “I think I auditioned one year when he used to run the season at Bath and he took a shine and kept wanting me back to do this and that.” His work with Hall included another Much Ado, where he played Don Pedro. “He got it into his head,” Edwards says, “that Don Pedro at the end was like Malvolio or Antonio, the man who gets left alone.�� So Edwards’ Don was a bit in love with Claudio and something of “a real devil”. 

His Oberon to Dench’s Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream came from another of Hall’s bright ideas. “Peter put it to me, ‘Look, I’ve got this idea, it’s like Elizabeth and Essex…’ They did a prelude to the evening where the players were assembling to put on a play for Elizabeth I and then Elizabeth/Judi arrives and selects me.” He says that Dench, like Andrews, is great to be with and “just as nervous and scared as the rest of us all are. They’re very great company people; their fun is being in the company.” This was the second time he’d worked with Dench because he’d been her fancy man, Sandy, when she played Judith Bliss in Coward’s classic comedy Hay Fever. He loves the lightness of My Fair Lady and the way it can modulate into the gravity of “I’ve Grown Accustomed to her Face”, with its utterly moody interplay between hilarities of exasperation, and something else, something at the edge of heartbreak. 

Of course, acting careers have their light and dark. Harrison, high comedian though he was, did Preston Sturges’s Unfaithfully Yours, that demon study of jealousy. Marcello Mastroianni, in many ways his European equivalent, made some of the more serious masterpieces, everything from 8 ½ to La Notte. And Edwards went straight from acting with Olivia Williams in Harley Granville Barker’s Waste to doing a chocolate-box soap TV drama, The Halcyon, with her. He says Granville Barker stands up very well when you prune him back and you know he thinks this of Shaw, too – the way “The Rain in Spain” crystallises something Shaw takes for granted and talks around – and does so operatically. “I find it very touching, that bit,” Edwards says. “It’s wonderful to do.” 

And he’s at pains to defend Higgins, the man who – at Harrison’s insistence – was given another Act II number, “A Hymn to Him”. “He’s not a snob,” Edwards says. “He’s trying to remove the social gaps. He’s trying to erase them, in a rather perverse way by wanting everyone to speak the same and dismiss regional accents – but he’s not a snob. He’s an egalitarian.” 

It’s always a fascinating thing to listen to an actor let his mind roam about the ins and outs, the winding staircase of his career. Charles Edwards went to a preparatory school named Amesbury in Surrey, which he says was “pure Decline and Fall, full of eccentrics, some of them quite dangerous eccentrics”. His salvation was Hamlet. “I was invited by – you know, we all have these teachers who encourage us – his name is Simon Elliot and he’ll still come and see me in shows now. ‘I’d like to talk to you about Hamlet,’ he said. ‘Oh yeah?’ ”

From there, a career. Here he is on Angela Lansbury: “She is in every way fit. In Blithe Spirit she did this extraordinary dance with these jerky movements as she was preparing for a séance. I don’t know what it was but I know every night she loved doing it and changing it.” And on Maria Aitken, brilliant as the wife of John Cleese’s Archie in A Fish Called Wanda, who directed Edwards in The 39 Steps: “With comedy she immediately knows, ‘That’s what I want for this show.’ And that it has to be taken very seriously. She’s the person you need at the centre, taking it absolutely seriously.” She insisted that Edwards – who was the production’s original Hannay in The 39 Steps – had to play the role when it transferred to Broadway. “She was lovely. She fought for me and she said, ‘You need the Englishman. You need the backbone.’ And they brought me over even though the rest of the cast was two Americans and one Canadian. It was great, I was thrilled. But it’s the kind of humour that can tip. It’s got to be tasteful, it’s got to have taste. Taste is the key with humour that involves an audience.” 

All of which brings us round to the ending of My Fair Lady where Eliza comes back to Higgins. She has sung that she can do “Without You”. “Absolutely,” he says, “and this is heightened by the ending, the fact that some people would ask why does she come back to him. But there has to be a meeting of minds, a meeting of souls, and that’s what he realises right at the end. She comes back to show him that she has to be there, but she is in charge. And he sees that and accepts that. And all of that we try to do in three seconds of the show.” 

Edwards laughs. 

So what is it like to work with Julie Andrews as she re-creates the original production of My Fair Lady by the legendary Moss Hart? “It was a real treat, it’s an extraordinary thing and very touching to see her remembering it,” Edwards says. 

Obviously the production is a blueprint, which he had to fit himself to, but the man who is best known here for his stint in Downton Abbey adds, “But you have to imbue it with a new texture.”.

Taken from The Saturday Paper, published Jul 15, 2017.

[sapphyrelily]

people were never meant to be alone

Inspired by a love song/non-love song by Jon Cozart and Dodie Clark

i. Semi

It’s beautiful tonight.

It seems odd, that I can still think this, even after all that’s happened, even after being left behind, like this.

But maybe that’s not quite true.

We've made our choices, and though circumstance has had a part in it too, the end result is the same.

I am here, and he isn’t.

The lights dancing across the water are captivating, breaking apart and coming back together, jolted sideways by the waves. Above the harbour, the streetlamps and lights of the buildings shine, bright and welcoming, even though it is close to nine.

I laugh a little, and the sound that escapes surprises even me – it sounds so bitter. But maybe that’s true. I do feel kind of bitter.

It’s lucky that everyone else is too caught up in each other to notice me.

It’s an odd habit, but I pat the railing before I step away, casting a last look at the small bit of sea invading the harbour, at the ships bobbing on it.

Tomorrow, one of those will set sail, a cruise bound for Thailand before looping around and returning here.

Here. That’s a funny thought.

Here, where I am, where we were supposed to be, together.

I’m rambling again.

But hey, at least I’m not like every other sappy couple here.

I am alone, a tourist, even though I am visiting all these sites populated with couples.

-----

My room is a small one – large enough for just me, maybe a squeeze if I were to share it.

The bottle of wine on the table seems to mock me – as does the single glass beside it. I do not look at them, but open the balcony door, leaning on the railing to regard the pool below.

I should put it out of mind and enjoy my stay here – my mini vacation, in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

Definitely not the most romantic, said to be the busiest and the least happy.

It doesn’t seem all that different from Japan, to me, except that the malls are more crowded, the weather decidedly more humid, and the people are louder.

It is probably a cultural thing, but it’s…peaceful.

It’s nice, I suppose, to be able to hide in a crowd like this, where the bustle drowns out your thoughts.

Where I don’t have to think about what others think of us, where I don’t have to pretend that it’s something it’s not.

“You are together? Congratulations.”

Ha.

Maybe once, Wakatoshi. But no longer.

I don’t quite know how to describe us, anymore. It’s a sort of limbo, and neither wants to make the first move to unbalance the equation.

So we keep pretending, I guess. We haven’t slept in the same bed in months, nor have we spoken of anything past usual pleasantries and maybe a joke or two.

It’s like we regressed back to being friends, or perhaps, distant acquaintances.

No, that’s not it. Still friends, but nothing close to what we shared before.

It’s sad.

I sigh and retreat back into the room, turning out the lights, the lightest click the only sound in the following darkness.

The covers are thick, still cool from the air-conditioning, and his voice follows me, a complaint replayed at the slightest touch of coolness.

I tuck myself in and shut his voice out, willing my brain to stop talking.

(I wonder, is this what it’s like, to grow apart?)

 ii. Shirabu

“Okay, and again!”

You smile for the camera, tilting your head in the angle he likes best, letting the artificial wind push the hair back across your face. The camera clicks in quick succession, the director calls a halt, and you step out of the blinding lights.

Another day, another job done.

You hate the long hours and the lights, the fussing and twittering, but modelling is a job that pays well, despite all that it takes from you.

You feel your mind begin to drift, skipping down the forbidden path, and you force it back, slapping it back on track.

You thank the director, the photographer, the make-up artists… Everyone that you must greet gets their share of thanks before you can excuse yourself to the luxurious room they prepared for you.

Luxurious, but empty.

Your mind wanders again, to the thought of companionship in a sun-drenched place, of warm hearts and elbows rubbing, and easy conversations.

You have but one of those, when you took up this job, and left behind a chance at perhaps, something more.

You are alone, in the taxi, and you decide that maybe, it would be alright to entertain these thoughts. This notion, that you could have had a full bloom, when you already have a half-open bud.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting your foolish thinking, and you pull it out.

It’s funny, that the name on the screen matches the face you were just thinking about.

Typing back a quick reply, you hit Send before you realise what a plain, generic answer that was. The same kind of answer you are used to giving, the one that never merits a bigger response than that.

Something small, that you noticed only recently, that is probably why you are growing apart.

Huh. You were growing apart. From the one person who never stopped pursuing you in the past – yet it seems otherwise, now.

(When did he stop? When did he stop running, slowing past walking, coming to a crawl?)

(Will he decide to turn back?)

(Is it worth trying to salvage it?)

Your phone buzzes again, and you see bright photos, lovely scenery, coupled with a smile you know all too well.

Wish you were here! The caption reads, but you shake your head and smother a laugh.

He doesn’t, not really. He admitted so when he was drunk once, though he was quick to re-affirm that he adores you.

(Maybe not so soon, but someday, someday, surely.)

(Surely, he will leave.)

Sometimes you wish you could have returned that affection in the way that he wanted, but yours is a friendship turned relationship of convenience. There is no love lost between you, especially after so many years.

(Sometimes, you wish there was.)

But looking at the photo, you let yourself dream a little.

What would it have been like, if you had followed him?

 iii. Semi

The streets are always so busy, no matter where I turn. Maybe it’s because I don’t know any non-tourist areas, but where would be the fun in pretending I was anything but a tourist?

My phone’s​ camera is awful, but good enough, and I manage to get shots of buildings with not too much sky in them – Satori never lets me live it down if there’s too much sky in a photo.

“Are you taking picture of the thing or of the sky?”

I turn my face down, hoping everyone else is minding their own business. It wouldn’t do for a tourist to be upset on a holiday, now, would it?

Except that I still am upset. By something found and lost, but mostly by the what-if of it all.

It would be easier, perhaps, to pretend. As I always do – as we always do, did.

And it’s not so hard, to pretend, when I can practically hear his voice yammering inside my head.

It’s only hard because I know it’ll never happen again.

And I can’t help it, I can’t help the thought that forms automatically, despite knowing that it would benefit me to not think about it.

I miss you.

 iv. Shirabu

It’s quiet, but still a little busy – this is, after all, a city that hardly sleeps. The lights weaving together on the arches of the bridge are bright, but not blinding, the glow enough to set a mood.

You try not to glance around – left and right are couples strolling hand in hand, though there is the occasional single or a small family. It matters not who they are, but what they have – relationships, bonds, people they care about and to whom they can return after a long day.

You cannot say that you have the same luxury now.

You left your base, your home ground – the metaphorical nest. You stepped out and spread your wings, hoping the downdraft would lift and help you glide to the ground.

You have glided this far, and the winds are failing, the current dying away. You have not looked down – have never looked down, have been too trusting, too confident – and now, you are uncertain where you’d land.

Your phone is silent in your pocket, despite usually being the opposite – and that is answer enough.

You’ve landed somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere hostile, and you do not have a single person at your back to fall back on, to trust in.

(A barren land, desert and unforgiving sand, with neither water nor sustenance. A place where one will perish, for sure.)

Maybe…

Maybe you should’ve held on.

(The memory of an empty inbox, unsent drafts, cutting words tears at your heart.)

(A figure turned away, without a since glance back.)

(Dismissal.)

You look ahead and exhale through your mouth, trying not to crumple.

(Pretty pictures fold themselves away inside your mind, hiding in a box, sliding into a dark and dusty corner.)

 v. Semi

I’m back.

Back here, at the waterfront, with the lights shining over the water, but this time, no boat in the harbour.

I can hear the soft murmuring of the couples at my back, and for the umpteenth time, I wonder, why am I doing this to myself?

(I’m not sure I’ll ever find an answer.)

But watching them, even the slightest glance, brings back floods of memories, remnants of times past, and it’s like they are happening anew.

A hearty laugh, a shock of red hair, hands pushing at mine, until his hands are on the controls instead. “Eita-kun, you suck so much at this. Let me get it.”

Within a minute, a large plush is in my arms, blocking my vision.

But I can hear his laugh from over it, and the unbridled joy in it makes me smile.

I can see an arcade from where I stand, and have to turn away, bite my lip, keep the emotion back.

“Aisle seat?”

“Nooo. Oh my goodness, you never watch movies from the side! There, we’re taking H-10 and 11. Right in the centre.”

“Satori–”

“Shh. It’ll be better, trust me.”

The movie theatre is on the opposite side of the mall. I start towards it, trying to keep my face blank, but I’m failing, falling.

“You’ve got a choice. Pick one.”

I look at both shirts, but neither of them impress me. He shoves one at me anyway, pushing me into the changing room, and I have to catch myself on the wall, but I’m laughing.

They were good times. That is for sure.

Hands swinging by each other, until finally one gives up and grabs a hold of the other, pinkies loosely intertwined.

“Eita?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

I have to cover my face for a moment, the memory is so strong.

A chaste kiss, lips lifted in a smile.

“Forever?”

“Always.”

But forever is shattered, like powdered glass, and there’s not enough of it left to fit in a stained-glass window.

Forever spins away on a breeze, and I watch it go, left behind with a half-hearted lie.

 vi. Shirabu

Your fingers hover over the blackened screen, the train’s lights reflecting off of it.

You are hesitating.

You are reluctant.

It’s for good reason, you tell yourself, fingers clenching around the device, turning it over so you can’t see​ the screen.

But in the next moment, you have flipped it over again, unlocked it, and you stare at a background that only heightens your conflict.

A picture of the two of you, smiling broadly for the camera.

You still remember how it was taken, a giant cliché.

You are laughing, hard enough that he has to support you, because you are bent over, wheezing.

“Shirabu-san.”

There’s a lilt of happiness in his voice, a tad more than usual, and you look up, only for the camera shutter to go off.

You don’t bother to make him delete it, because your good mood remains – and also because you like the way he tries to preserve memories like this, sometimes.

His arm around your waist is warm, as is the sun reflecting off your smiles in the photo.

You bite your lip as you stare at the screen, chest aching horribly.

You open your messaging app, stare at the latest message, and once again, exit without sending anything new.

Your home screen wallpaper mocks you, and you have a sudden urge to change it.

Don’t, a voice inside you whispers, but you shake it off and open your photo gallery.

It is so difficult to pick something, anything, but you settle on a patch of blooming flowers, lit by the setting sun, even though you are breaking apart.

You know better.

This is the way to redemption, and to salvaging what’s left of your…friendship.

You are better, smarter than this. You should know, you should know that the only way to get over this is to leave it alone.

You do know.

And that is why you slip your phone into your bag, watching the flashing lights for the upcoming train station instead of trying to reply, because you only make things worse when you speak.

 vii. Meeting

Two figures headed in the same direction, paths bifurcating at the casino. They almost don’t notice each other, both caught up in their own world, in their haze of distraction.

Neither of them really knows who notices the other first – but they agree that it started with the fireworks.

The fireworks, that go off in the amusement park at eight thirty, a light show that most people stop to stare at.

It is in the aftermath – or perhaps, even the middle of it, the glow lighting the faces beneath – that they stop, and their eyes meet.

They promptly look away, neither of them acknowledging the other, still half in a daze, still hoping, dreaming, on their own.

But the fireworks die away, and the world begins moving again, except for the two stationary figures, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

One of them does move – a shake of his head, a wry smile – turning away. Everything he does screams his belief that he is seeing things, and he will not entertain it.

And the other – it is his turn, his move, and he takes the first step.

The first lifting and dropping of a foot, and then another, and another, before his shoes are clicking rapidly across the concrete, catching up, and a hand placed on a shoulder.

A whisper of a name – in disbelief, questioning, and the one who turned away first – he blinks slowly, as if waking from a dream.

A curious, wondrous smile lifts his lips, and he greets the other in a sighing cadence.

Hello.

 viii. Catching up

They go back to his room, because it is smaller, quieter, more private.

Small pleasantries, an exchange of information – what they are doing on a small island, so far from their homeland, their jobs, their lives, what they have done since graduation and losing touch.

Neither of them speak about the golden band resting on the table, or the silver one hanging around a neck. It’s as if they recognise the pain in each other’s eyes, and there is a mutual understanding, though they have never agreed on much, before.

The hour is late when their mouths are dry, and one of them stands to leave. The other is just as quick to catch his sleeve, gently asking him to stay.

It’s late. I’ll lend you some clothes.

It is odd, but he has no reason to refuse, not when he doesn’t have to work the next day. And maybe…

Maybe he does need some form of companionship, if only in the form of someone he used to dislike so much.

Maybe, it would be alright to stay.

(Just for a bit.)

 ix. Quiet moments

The bed is large enough for the two of them, and they lie on opposing sides, facing away from each other.

But sleep does not come easily, and in the midst of tossing and turning, they begin to bicker.

It’s almost nostalgic, the jibes and insults thrown, but neither let up, and they end up poking and kicking each other under the blanket as if they were still in high school.

Nobody knows who won, but lying there in the relative quiet, with the air-conditioning as white noise, it’s almost easy to pretend that they are both okay.

But silence is a tricky thing, like the molten glass that glassblowers mould.

Who are you engaged to?

Is that a promise ring?

They laugh at their overlapping words. They’ve always been too similar, in some ways.

 x. Secrets

They argue over who would start first, until one caves.

It was Satori.

Was?

I don’t know, but I don’t think we are together any more. Not in that sense, at least.

A low hum, understanding, accepting.

Non-judgemental.

You’re right, you know.

What?

This. It’s sort of like a promise ring. He lets the ring fall from jointless fingers; it clinks against the chain, falling silent against the bed. But promises are always broken.

A beat of silence – he takes that as agreement, but then the other begins speaking again.

Not true. Promises are what you make them.

He snorts. Maybe so, but not this one. This was always in a limbo and ready to be broken.

Oh?

Yeah.

A lengthier silence, and he stares at the ceiling, waiting, waiting, for him to ask.

He doesn’t.

You’re not curious? He can’t help himself – he can’t imagine anyone not wanting to pry. About who the other ring belongs to?

You’d tell me, if you wanted. His voice is so trusting – it’s not fair.

(It’s plain to see who has matured more over the years.)

(He doesn’t like it.)

Tsutomu has the other ring.

It feels like an admission, a soft, whispered thing, yet also a loud, shouted thing – a gunshot in the darkness, a secret that he doesn’t want to bring to light.

And?

He huffs. I thought you weren’t going to pry.

I know you, and you want to tell me. You just need a push.

He gets a kick for his troubles, but hears a sigh, and eventually, the other starts talking.

 xi. Moving on

The funny thing about people, is how they pretend they can survive alone, when really, they need support at least some of the time.

That is how humans work, as does the beautiful-ridiculous thing called companionship.

They talk through the night, till the sun peeks through the bottom of the curtains, and that is when they decide to sleep.

When they wake, another day is gone, but the burden on their hearts has eased.

It feels like they are going to go back to pretending they hate each other, go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.

But one of them makes a tiny offer, and the other accepts, and then they are wandering the mall until closing time, trading banter as they walk back along the bridge.

It’s almost friendly, and they trade numbers, a teasing parting of ways.

Call me.

You sound desperate.

I mean when you need to talk, brat.

Hmm, no.

You are ridiculous.

You are absurd.

Pain-in-the-ass.

Naggy.

I’m trying to be nice.

Don’t.

Fine.

Fine.

They turn away, but glance back, and burst out laughing.

They are broken, and patched up, their repairs messy but feasible for the moment.

They are flightless birds, but they have learnt to walk, and maybe, run.

They smile at each other a last time and part ways, hearts lighter than they were before.

Romance is a lie, but you can find companionship in the oddest places.