#Like I’m pretty sure it was the person more railing against the beauty industry and excessive skin care products

[cryptvokeeper]

So there was this “acne has nothing to do with how clean your skin is it’s just hormones” post on my dash earlier that I didn’t reblogged cuz the whole thing felt sus and upon further research I was in fact right. The reason hormones cause acne is because they can cause your skin to secrete more oil which, when mixed with bacteria on your skin, can cause acne! So like, yeah, hormones DO cause acne but keeping your skin clean can still mitigate the effects!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “To learn.”

My brain wanted to write something in first person present tense today. I have no idea why, but I let it go wild. I hope you all like it :) A little bit different than my usual style :)

I just needed some time.

You ever tried putting yourself back together after war, it isn’t easy, or at least I don’t find it to be. I don’t know, call me a sissy, but I don’t actually like war., I don’t take pleasure from killing, but it is part of my job, a big part of it and if the universe continues the way it is, I am going to see war a lot more often.

I wish it didn’t affect me so much.

I wish I had a better way of handling it.

People think I’m a strong person, but they’re wrong. There are plenty of people who could take up my mantle and do a more badass job. They wouldn’t grow sick as the sight of carnage, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put the armor back on.

I’m not like that ….

I’m a coward.

If my friends knew…. Well I have no idea what they would think of me.

But that’s why I had to take some time. Since my first injury, I have never been totally alone. There was always someone there to check on me, there was always someone there to help me deal with my issues. I don’t think I ever figured out how to take care of myself, which is why I decided to take this trip, alone.

The others didn’t understand it…. well , one of them did but he still didn’t like it, but If I am being honest it will be good for them….. Especially her…. The last thing I want to do is make it so we can’t function alone.

I think its called…. Codependency or something.

I don’t know sounds like the sort of thing I’d get caught up in.

I suppose it's for all those reasons that I ended up here. 

Looking out the window, I can see Anum suspended against the sky glassy in shades of blue purple and green like a lucky marble. It almost feels as if I can reach out and touch it.

The last time I saw this place, it was receding into the distance,.

I lost a lot here, my leg, and my mind for a short time.

Now it kind of makes me laugh to think that a piece of me was left behind to fertilize some of the plant matter. Of course, it looks a bit different now that the dark season has abated. I had only ever seen the place when it was covered in ash, but it's actually quite beautiful. 

The pilot of the shuttle is pretty average, and I only feel like tightening my hands on the seatbelts just a little as we enter the atmosphere.

Fire rolls up around us as friction begins to heat up the outer hull.

Around me men and aliens alike rock in their seats.

Most of them are miners, come here to work on extracting the precious metals from below Anum’s surface.

Personally, I prefer asteroid mining, but statistics say that is more dangerous and expensive so of course corporations like it a lot less, and besides, all of this was sort of just a massive pissing contest with the GA forcing the Drev to pay for the damages caused during war. I don’t think they should, but who am I to give my opinion.

I’m just a soldier.

It doesn't take us long to leave the atmosphere, and it isn’t long before we are looking down at a massive open mining operation. The face of Anum has been scoured with a massive terraced hole overrun by machines and workers cutting into the stone. Volcanoes pipe smoke in the distance.

The scars of industry really are ugly sometimes.

I’ve seen pictures of anum during the bright season, without the machinery.

It's honestly very beautiful, but maybe I'm a bit biased. It’s the one part of home that Sunny misses, and I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. With all the times we’ve gone to earth, you think we'd have visited her home planet too, but I guess the cosmos have ust never taken us this way.

Red lights blink above the doors, and I unbuckle my harness pulling on my bag and gear with the rest of the miners, though I’m not here for the same reason they are. Boots clatter loudly on the ramp below our feet, and I head outside.

It smells clean and cool, though for a distant tang of sulfur.

You barely notice it though, less bad than visiting the hot springs at yellowstone, so your nose adjusts quickly.

The sky overhead is blue, just like on earth, though the ground beyond the launch pad is an amalgamation of rainbow color. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision, pulling up the eyepatch to take a look from my mechanical eye and its UV filter.

“Holy shit.”

It's beautiful, the sheer amount of color is astonishing like the Lucky Charms leprechaun had some sort of horrific accident. T

he miners ignore me and continue on their way towards the docking pad. 

I don’t plan on following.

I am not here for them. I drop the patch back over my eye, and adjust the bag over my shoulder striking it out into the bush, barely looking back. No one notices, or cares, and it isn’t long before the launch field and the mining operation disappears over the horizon. Anum’s circumference is just a little smaller than that of earth with the horizon eating up anything beyond that around three miles.

Gravity is somewhat lessened too, which makes it easier as I walk.

My boots are silent against the multicolored moss at my feet, this stuff teal in color. Little white flowers spring up from the surface like clover back home. A light gust of wind rolls past me causing the flowers to ripple. I lift my head closing my eyes and allowing the wind to carry with it distant smells.

This is the same wind that Sunny would have known growing up, the same feeling under her feet.

I decide to stop a couple miles out under the meager shade of a coiltree. I have never actually seen one before now, and I can see why it’s called a coiltree. Honestly it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seus book striped up the trunk and with branches that curl into spirals. More little whit blossoms erupt from the trunk, and between those are little white berries. 

I seem to recall those being edible.

Reaching up, I pluck one or two down from the branches and pop them into my mouth. Though the skin is white, the berries juice stains my hands purple. One of them is horrifically sour, but the other is pleasantly sweet, probably more ripe than the other, though I can’t yet tell the difference between them. 

I sit there under the tree for a little while looking out across the lonely landscape. Something is moving on the distant horizon, though I can't exactly tell what they are, a herd of some sort of animal or another. They are very tall as far as I can tell, just a little shorter than the coiltree.

As a last moment decision, I kick off my boots, and strip my socks tying them to my bag before standing.

The moss is very soft under my feet erupting upwards between my toes like a shag carpet, but you know much less hideous.

My footsteps are even softer now, though the prosthetic clatters sometimes when metal hits stone.

Sweat runs down my back,sides, and front.

I have no idea where I am going, but I know they will see me soon enough.

They have patroll parties out here, and if they aren’t watching me already, then they will be soon enough.

I keep walking heading parallel to the volcanic chain.

For the most part, my hike is uneventful, except for that time that I stepped on something slimy and wriggly. I hate to admit it but I squealed like an idiot and nearly fell over, only made worse when I looked down and saw the giant pale maggot burrowing into the moss and underground.

I nearly gagged, and my skin crawled.

Sunny had mentioned those, though I forgot their names.

THey lived primarily off of decomposing plant and animal material, very common in areas where war had continued.

I didn’t like it, but it was probably one of those nasty suckers that ate my leg.

Ew…

Gross.

I contemplated putting my boots back on, but kept walking instead. 

A group of unknown flying critters appear overhead. They have two sets of membranous wings, kind of like those of a bat, no tail though, just a long rail of fur like the streamer of a kite.

These ones are bright colors like pink and yellow.

Pretty cool.

Its nice to walk in the silence, though after a while my brain devolves into humming the star wars theme, and then singing stupid songs dancing around and hopping about from one foot to another as I badly sing the choruses to all the songs I know.

My eye of the tiger rendition probably left something to be desired, though I doubt anyone out here would know the difference.

Then comes the stupid dialogs with myself as I try to imagine what Krill Conn and Sunny would say about all this.

“Commander, I will have you know that you behavior is highly disquieting, I insist we get an MRI on your brain to make sure you have not developed a severe case of bilateral goop disease.”

“What kind of dumbass just goes wandering around with no idea where he’s going. The dumbass kind of dumbass.”

“Adam, I need you to understand that Anum is a dangerous place. I know you grew up on earth, but there are still things that can go wrong on Anum. Do you know how common surprise hot springs are. What if you fell in and died.”

Speaking of which, “Thanks imaginary Sunny, I totally forgot about that.”

Other than that, what can go wrong, it is a bright shiny day, the temperature is perfect, nothing someone like me can’t handle. Oh and is that a crunchy pink orb I see. I fucking love those, they taste so good.

I hop over the rocks, my feet warm on the moss, and reach down to pluck one of the spheres from it’s short stumpy stem.

And that's when the spear appears at my throat.

Shit.

I drop my hand back and look up to see a drev that is at least three feet taller than me, holding his massive spear orange eyes narrowed. Holy shit, I didn’t even hear her/him coming. Honestly I should have seen them coming long before anything else bright fuschia as they were.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish.”  They jab the spear at my neck, and the obsidian lined head cuts through my sin like butter. 

Oh shit, uh, my translator is not picking up shit. Guess these guys have a different accent than we’re used to. I rack my brains trying to remember how to speak what little I know, but it seems that it has all fled me when I needed it the most.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish!” I stumble backwards onto my butt and hands. Shit shit.

I hold up a hand.

“Cheeyat neahasan!” Shit I forgot to conjugate the verb. Damn I must look like an idiot yelling ‘to speak slow!’ at the top of my lungs 

However, my botched attempt at speaking seems to work, and they pull back. “Tsa dzhal Cheeyish.” 

Oh I understood that one, “Yid zhe cheeyi dzhal.” yes, yes I speak Drev, “neahasan.” Slolwy anyway. 

They pull back. I don't know why, but I’m getting a female vibe off this one. I can't tell though, Drev voices all tend to be rather deep.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish” She says it slower this time, and all around her I watch as a small group of other Drev move to flank me from the sides. They are listening very intently.

I think I understand this time, the rough translation being who are you and what are you doing.

I want to speak with your leader, “Zhe zhegingi s tsak eeda cheeyat.” My voice is halting and I am butchering the pronunciation, but they seem to get my request.

She trusts the spear at me, “Tsaee!”

I hold up my hands, “Woah woah, easy easy…. I uh.” Shit what was the word to learn, “zhe….zhengingi hak tsa…. “ Damn it… I can’t remember,  “um….. Rekazat nin dzhal….. Rekazazh.”

Oh wow, that sounds really intelligent. I wanted to learn from them but instead apparently I ‘want to know what they know.’ riveting conversationalist that I am.

She stares at me confused.

In frustration I point at her spear, “Zhe zhengingi…..zheengat?” 

Uh this was going poorly. I clearly did not know as much of their language as I thought I did.

I want to know to fight.

Wow excellent work their commander that will convince them.

They look back and forth at each other, and fire off some quick shot dialogue that leaves my head spinning.

She turns to me and lowers her spear, “s jya Hajish.”

Come with us.

Great a sentence I understood.

It was in the next few hours that I was either going to live, or I was going to die horribly. 

A pretty exciting time in my life.

And I followed.

Not like I had a choice at this point. 

[sendrickbecs]

Unspoken Feelings (3/8)

The heavy throbbing of her head makes the bedroom whirl around her. Is the world spinning? Beca sits up, quickly bringing her left hand to her forehead, pressing down on it as if it will release the tension. The intense dizziness is causing her stomach to churn which increases her urge to vomit.

Her eyes snap shut instantly, in attempt to decrease her hangover symptoms.

Beca inhales quickly, holding the breath, then exhaling. She repeats the breathing strategies a few more times until she no longer thinks she's going to vomit all over the floor. She doesn't want to recreate Aubrey's puking mess.

When her eyes flutter open again, it takes a minute for her to realise that she isn't in her own room, she's so naturally comfortable in the warm bed that she isn't even alarmed. The surroundings aren't unfamiliar, so she doesn't feel the need to get up and run away shamefully.

But then she looks to her right as she suddenly realises, she isn't alone in the bed.

The sight of her best friend lying next to her, with her left hand underneath her cheek and her gorgeous red hair sprawled out over her pillow, is absolutely breath-taking.

Her other hand is connected to the wrist that is resting on Beca's stomach. Beca didn't realise she was wrapped in Chloe's grip until now, and she has the urge to snuggle closer, loving the feeling of being so close to her best friend. But that isn't a thought someone should have about their best friend, so she hesitantly nudges Chloe's arm away.

After she sits up against the headboard, Beca reaches out to tuck a strand of Chloe's hair behind her ear.

She wants to appreciate the sight, because Chloe Beale really is her favourite thing to look at – to admire. Beca can deny it time and time again but she'll always come back to the same conclusion.

Chloe is her weakness.

Beca has never allowed herself to be vulnerable around others but the realisation that Chloe could literally break down every single one of her walls scares the absolute shit out of her.

She allows her gaze to drift around the room. Even though she shares the attic room with Amy, their room isn't much different to the other girls' bedrooms. She's spent a fair amount of time in Chloe's bedroom anyway, which is why she's almost surprised it took her so long to acknowledge that she woke up in her room.

In this moment it suddenly strikes her – why is she in Chloe's room?

What the fuck happened last night?

She tugs her hair down from the messy bun – she doesn't remember putting her hair up last night so Chloe must have done it for her, which is another example of why Chloe is literally the best person in the entire universe. Beca rakes her hand through her hair and takes note of the faint scent of alcohol. She's also pretty sure that she has sick in the front few strands, but she doesn't want to get into that right now.

Guilt runs through her accompanied by shame as she remembers the way she danced with Jesse last night in attempt to rid her feelings – if they even were feelings at all – for Chloe.

The events from the night before flood back to her and she's overwhelmed with...rage.

Beca isn't angry at Jesse for dancing with her because she was the one that asked, or at Chloe for messing with her head and confusing her, because Chloe isn't to blame.

She's mad at herself. She's so fucking angry at herself that she's allowing herself to feel this way about her best friend – her best friend who is beautiful, sexy, smart as hell and literally the most caring person on the planet.

Chloe Beale is way too good for her, so even if she was into girls there's no way she'll ever love her the way Beca longs for her to. The way Beca has loved Chloe since her freshman year.

She hates herself for the way she treats Chloe – hot one minute, cold the next. She only distances herself and runs from Chloe because it's all she's ever known. Leaving is the only thing she's good at.

There's no need for the walk of shame, but it's not like they had sex anyway. However, that doesn't mean she wants anyone seeing her leave Chloe's room early in the morning. Beca knows what her fellow Bellas are like – they love to make assumptions – especially about 'Bhloe'. It's bad enough that Stacie and Amy occasionally tease them by giving them a ship name and asking things like "When's the wedding?" and "Can I be the god mother of your child?" so there is no way Beca is going to let anyone see her leave Chloe's bedroom, it will only fuel their theories. They'll never let her live that down.

So instead of lying back down and falling to sleep like a part of her wishes she would do, she clambers out of the bed and moves across the room, careful not to knock into any of Chloe's things and cause a ruckus.

When she emerges from the attic stairs, she's met with an empty room, which half surprises her, but Amy not coming home is typical, especially after a treble's party.

Beca is tired, exhausted in fact, but there is no way she's going to be able to get back to sleep so she reaches for her precious laptop and headphones. She sets them on the edge of her bed as she fumbles through her clothes until she pulls out a pair of sweatpants, which she quickly changes into.

Her laptop and headphones are back in her grip as she trudges down the stairs towards the kitchen of the Bellas house. She slips the headphones around her neck and places the laptop on the counter.

As she's making herself some coffee, she acknowledges that it's only five in the morning, which is extremely early for someone who usually rises around midday.

Beca picks up her mug – one Chloe brought her last year – and carries it along with her laptop out the front door and on to the porch. Instead of sitting on the chair swing, Beca sits down on the steps, half leaning against the railing.

She lifts her headphones up and slides them on over her head, connecting the wire to her laptop and pressing play on the queued playlist. The music instantly relaxes her, she won't ever admit it but ever since Chloe requested a Taylor Swift song for the set, Beca has been pretty obsessed with her music.

But not even music can distract her from her thoughts, or more specifically, thoughts about Chloe.

She can't feel that way about her because she's her best friend. She loves her so much, but she can't be in love with her because if it ends badly – which Beca believes all her relationships will – then she'll lose her best friend.

At least with Jesse she's never cared for him the way she cares for Chloe, so if they fight or he gets mad at her, he can't hurt her the way Chloe can.

She doesn't know how much time has gone by since she came out here, but the playlist has ended, and her coffee is now stone cold. Beca has just been staring at a tree whilst she completely zones out.

She hears movement behind her which startles her out of her trance. Her head snaps to the side and she is met with Fat Amy holding a hot mug. She offers it to Beca, and she is quick to accept it considering how the one she made is now undrinkable.

"Are you working on a mix?" Amy asks, as she flops herself down on the porch swing.

"Uh, yeah?" Beca's already finished the mixes and set for the Bellas, and she isn't making anything new for her internship.

Recently her mixes have been kind of shitty, so she hasn't been able to add anything to her collection of mashups that she keeps for potential future use to show someone in the music industry if the opportunity comes up.

Normally Beca uses music as an escape, something to take over her thoughts if it gets too much for her, but right now her mind is elsewhere. Not even music can distract her from her own thoughts.

"Well, no...I'm just trying to figure some shit out." She says, trying not to admit too much about why she is really out here so early in the morning.

"Anything I can help with?" The blonde questions, whilst repositioning her arms behind her head so she's now leaning against them.

"No."

Beca's lack of hesitation sparks a hint of confusion in Amy's thoughts. "You sure? I'm your best friend, you can talk to me about anything." She says, completing it with a grin.

The brunette scoffs lightly, "Well, actually-"

"Mitchell, I know you love ginger more than me, but you don't need to say it out loud and break my heart," Amy jokes.

She almost wants to deny it, because lately the way she feels about Chloe is weird. Beca doesn't understand it, but instead of unpacking it slowly and acknowledging her feelings, she forces her thoughts about Chloe to the back of her mind. But no matter what, Chloe is her best friend, that will always come first.

Beca forces herself to chuckle, "It's just some stuff at the studio."

. . .

When Chloe finally stirs, a few hours after Beca's departure, she reaches her hand out for her best friend, but instead she's met with an empty, cold bed.

She instantly misses Beca's warmth even though she doesn't know how long she's been gone. She can also faintly smell Beca's perfume. Chloe sometimes thinks she's sprayed it around the house just to taunt her. In a way it's like Beca is still always around even when she's being distant or hanging out with Jesse.

Beca is always there and Chloe can't seem to escape her – but she isn't sure that she'd want to even if she could. For Chloe, Beca is her literal will to live. Seeing the smile on her best friend's face is what keeps Chloe going, so without her, life would be pretty damn pointless.

But waking up to an empty bed, knowing that Beca has left her once again, sends a punch to her gut.

Chloe knows she should just take that as a sign, that Beca doesn't want her, not when they're both sober anyway. When the small brunette's feisty attitude is combined with alcohol, she becomes needy – and very touchy. Chloe doesn't mind it, in fact, she kind of really likes it. Beca initiates the hugs and reaches for Chloe's hand to hold. Beca is a lot less clingy when she's sober so Chloe takes advantage of the moments where Beca wants to touch Chloe. She knows she should feel even the slightest pang of guilt for enjoying these moments, but it's not like she's forcing the alcohol down the younger woman's throat.

However, Chloe's thoughts can't help themselves, she assesses the situation once more. Beca had chosen her bed to sleep in last night, to cuddle with her and to wake up next to her. She could have gone to her own bed or any of the other Bellas. But she wanted Chloe. That has to mean something, right?

Chloe is most definitely a morning person, yet this morning she has to fight the overwhelming urge to stay in bed, wrapped up in her blankets all day.

Once she's out of the shower, and dressed in suitable clothing for Bellas rehearsals, she heads downstairs.

When the kitchen comes into view and she hasn't spotted Beca yet, she feels somewhat relieved, she knows Beca will pretend like last night never happened, but Chloe just can't let it go that easily.

She must jinx herself because not even five seconds later, Beca's voice runs through the bottom floor of the house.

"I swear to god, you can't even have anything to yourself in this house."

Chloe acknowledges the anger in Beca's tone and instantly wants to help her or calm her down – something only Chloe can do – so she rushes towards the kitchen. Beca is pacing around the room with her hands flying about frantically.

"What's up, Becs?" Chloe quizzes, attempting to keep her tone calm which is surprisingly hard as she watches Beca get worked up over something. Beca is her friend and she doesn't like seeing her upset.

"Someone ate my fucking ice cream." Beca mumbles, but the look in her eyes tells Chloe that this isn't just about ice cream. There is something much bigger bothering her.

"Um...Bec." Chloe looks at Beca with her most precious puppy dog eyes and a small smile, almost begging Beca to forgive her for something she hasn't even apologised for yet. In her defence, she was mad at Beca for disappearing when she needed her best friend.

Beca can't deny that Chloe's adorable expression got to her – it always does. "Yeah, Chlo?"

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Beca quizzes, still not understanding what exactly Chloe was apologising for.

Chloe sighs, and drops her gaze to the floor, ready for whatever Beca was about to throw at her – metaphorically and physically. "It was me. I was the one that ate your ice cream."

"Girl fight!" Cynthia Rose comments as she makes her way into the kitchen towards Fat Amy.

The brunette chuckles softly which causes Chloe to lift her head. "Dude, you should have told me, now I look like an idiot." Beca sits down at the table and lifts her mug to her lips.

"Wait...so you aren't mad?" Chloe asks.

Beca meets Chloe's gaze so both pairs of blue eyes are staring into each other's.

Although the shades of blue are quite different, they fit together so well, just like the ocean and the sky. Beca and Chloe are compatible; the light and dark shades of blues in their eyes harmonise together in the most perfect way.

Beca's expression softens into a smile, just for Chloe. "Course not. It's just ice cream." She shrugs.

"What?" Fat Amy yells, which earns three glares. Her volume is way too loud for this time in the morning, considering how a majority of the Bellas are still asleep. Although Amy's probably woken them all up with her shouting.

Beca tosses her head to the side and gives Amy a pointed glare. "Why are you being weird?"

"You were just about to rip my head off and it wasn't even me, but when Chloe comes forward and says she ate it all you have to say is 'it's just ice cream.' Beca, what-"

"She wasn't feeling well. Ice cream helps with the flu. She's better now so it must have done the trick." Beca smirks but dials it down a notch when she sees Amy raise her eyebrows.

Chloe's heart skips a beat at the thought of Beca taking care of her. Beca has always taken care of her in her own way – she buys Chloe her favourite food when she's on her period, she offered her shoulder to cry on when Chloe had Tom trouble back in Beca's freshman year and Beca makes numerous mixes for Chloe whenever she's feeling down.

There have been so many times where Beca has cared for Chloe, but Chloe wishes that Beca could really take care of her, that they could take care of each other.

She wishes they could cuddle in one of their beds, or on the couch when watching a movie with the other Bellas.

She wishes Beca would trust her enough, so she doesn't have to lie to her anymore.

And finally, she wishes they could care for each other's sexual needs, because the Bellas were probably getting tired of hearing Titanium blast from Chloe's room.

Titanium is kind of their song, Beca might not know this but whenever Chloe listens to it, Beca takes over her mind. It's the thought of Beca that drives her towards her climax.

The brunette twists, focusing her entire attention on Chloe, ignoring the questioning glances between Amy and Cynthia Rose. "You are okay now, right?" She asks the older girl. Her expression softening as she waits for Chloe to confirm that she is okay – that they are okay.

Chloe's face lights up at Beca's obvious concern. Now she knows that Beca was actually worried about her. The past few days she spent in her room she had been assuming that Beca didn't want to be around her because she didn't care that Chloe was supposedly sick. But if Beca knew, then why wasn't she here? Just seeing the younger girl would have made her feel better instantly.

She nods quickly, and watches as Beca's shoulders drop slightly, relaxing them as she lets out a breath. Beca smiles at her and the expression is mirrored by the redhead.

The sudden need to be close to Beca, fuels through the older girl so she takes a couple of steps forwards until she's standing directly in front of her.

"Where'd you go?" Chloe mumbles, "I thought you would still be asleep."

"I was just working on some of my mixes." Beca says after taking a bite of toast, then returning the half-eaten slice to the plate.

Chloe reaches for the plate and lifts the toast up to her mouth, taking a bite then offering it back to Beca. She accepts the toast and takes another bite, smaller this time.

"You know I can make you your own toast if you're hungry?"

"No, I'm good." Chloe replies with a smirk, "I'd rather share yours."

Beca eats one more bite of the toast before holding it out for Chloe. The older girl gives Beca a playful smile then opens her mouth, wanting Beca to feed her instead. The brunette grins and rests the toast against Chloe's bottom lip, looking up at her with a wide smile.

"Get a room, you two." Fat Amy yells, which startles both girls, pulling them from their own little world where only the two of them exists.

Chloe reaches her hand up and takes the toast from Beca. The pink tinge on her cheeks suggest she's just been caught in the middle of a sexual act, not sharing toast with her best friend.

Once she's finished the toast she spins on her heels and reaches into the fridge for a bottled water and instantly unscrews the lid. The cool water is refreshing, and it manages to calm her down, she just hopes that the blush on her cheeks has faded.

"Can I hear them? Your mixes." Chloe asks eagerly once she's turned back to Beca.

The brunette hasn't looked away from Chloe since she entered in the kitchen, but when Chloe meets her gaze, she knows she's been caught staring, so she averts her eyes.

"Later?"

"Okay." Chloe nods, along with a squeal of excitement. Usually when Beca produces a new mix, Chloe is the first person to listen to it, unless it's about her – Beca doesn't show those to anyone, she just transfers them to a USB and adds them to her collections. She has too many mixes dedicated to her co-captain than she'd like to admit. "After rehearsal?"

Beca goes to accept, but then remembers that Chloe hasn't been feeling well recently and she doesn't want her to strain her vocal cords, her nodes damaged them enough. "Are you feeling up to it?"

Once again Chloe's heart swells at Beca's caring tone. "I could ask you the same thing. You drank quite a lot." She giggles at Beca's frown.

"I'm okay if you're okay."

Chloe smiles at Beca's choice of words. Beca is saying she'll only be okay if Chloe's okay, so if Chloe wasn't then would Beca not be either? The brunette's words are not helping, in fact they're just making her feelings towards her more prominent. "I'm okay." Chloe says, and she has the desire to ask, 'Are we okay?' but she pushes it down, too afraid of the answer.

Chloe nears the counter, selecting two mugs from the cabinet and filling up the kettle. She twists to face Beca once more. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes please," Beca answers, a smile growing on her face at the offer of coffee. She's already had two cups this morning but definitely won't say no to one more, especially to Chloe.

"Okay, you go shower, I'll bring it up to you." Chloe says, before turning back to work on the drinks.

Beca jumps up from her seat at the table and takes her plate over to the dishwasher. "Alright, thank you. Just don't barge into my shower." She teases, with a growing smirk on her face.

"Beca Mitchell!" Chloe squeaks as she spins around, blushing just like she was a few minutes ago.

"Sorry Beale, I'll try not to sing titanium too loudly." Beca jokes, letting out a laugh at the effect her words had on the older girl. It's as if Beca could hear Chloe's earlier thoughts.

"You better not, we might be late for rehearsals if you do." Chloe fires back, fighting the urge to invite herself into another one of Beca's showers.

Beca smirks at Chloe's response, deep down wishing that she'd take her up on the offer to join her in the shower, but before Beca can dwell on it, she pushes it to the back of her mind and hurries up the stairs.

Chloe can't resist the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips, curling upwards and breaking out on her face.

"Tonerrrrr." Fat Amy sings, with a growing grin.

"Shut up." Chloe says, but doesn't deny it which doesn't go unnoticed by the two other Bellas in the room, "I'll make you do extra cardio."

"No thanks, Boss. I'm good. Sorry Boss."

. . .

Throughout rehearsals, the co-captains were back to being Beca and Chloe.

Beca carried Chloe's bag into the auditorium even though she had her laptop bag and gym bag as well. Chloe encouraged Beca to join in the cardio, which she normally skips with the excuse of needing to set up the speakers.

As Beca leant over her laptop, Chloe found herself staring at her more than once, admiring her in her element. Beca was the same, she'd watch Chloe run through the routines with the other girls, staring at her ass and her biceps every now and then.

The two were synchronised once again.

Everyone seemed so much more relaxed now the tension had drifted.

But then Beca danced with Chloe.

The lingering contact and the passionate dance moves were just too much for her.

It was overwhelming Beca, and she began to panic. The thoughts running through her head weren't right and definitely not PG, she felt hot all over, and her head throbbed. She just needed a second to breathe.

Thank fuck Chloe decided to call the end of rehearsals.

Beca isn't listening to the multiple conversations between the other girls, she's completely zoned out, focusing on not fainting. Her heartbeat has quickened, and her hands are clamming up.

Her breathing still isn't back to its normal rate, but she's not just out of breath from the choreography. Beca's breathing is unsteady and it's starting to panic her. She begins to feel like the walls of the auditorium are closing in on her as she rocks to herself in one of the chairs.

She clenches her eyes shut tight, and grips onto her legs with both hands, squeezing hard so she can focus on the pressure. But it's still not enough because her breathing doesn't differentiate.

The volume of the auditorium does shift, however, and Beca realises that the Bellas must have left, but she doesn't dare open her eyes. The noise must have been a pretty big factor to Beca's panic attack because she's slowly starting to breathe at a steadier pace. Although, she is still far from calm.

The brunette acknowledges Chloe's presence instantly, she can smell her – Beca doesn't have time to analyse how stalkerish that sounds because a sob rakes from her chest, which takes her completely by surprise.

The chair beside her squeaks slightly, and a hand falls onto her knee before it moves up and rests on top of one of her own hands. "Hey Bec," Chloe's soothing voice reaches her ears. After a few seconds she releases the grip on her legs.

"Take my hand." She says, and Beca instantly grips onto the hand offered to her. "You're okay, Becs. I've got you."

Beca finds comfort in the words and she latches on to Chloe's hand for dear life, too afraid of what might come if she lets go.

The two girls sit together in silence as Chloe guides Beca through her panic attack, helping her breathing pattern get back to normal then working on her senses.

It takes Beca ten more minutes to calm down and finally open her eyes. When she does, she's met with the beautiful ocean blue eyes, they are slightly glistening with unshed tears, almost mirroring her own.

Chloe's smile isn't as bright as usual, but it's still enough to reassure Beca that everything will be fine. Beca genuinely believes that everything will be fine as long as Chloe Beale is here.

"Are you okay?" Beca nods and takes the water bottle that Chloe offers her, gulping down at least a third of the water before reapplying the cap.

"Sorry." She whispers, as she stares at the ground.

Chloe's face saddens. Beca did nothing wrong yet she still feels the need to apologise, which makes the older girl acknowledge just how frightened Beca is to let her guard down around people. She is terrified of people judging her for things that are beyond her control.

"Hey, don't be sorry." Chloe says, as she intertwines their fingers, "I'm just glad you're okay. You scared me a little back there."

"Uh, yeah. I get them sometimes." She explains, "Thanks for helping me through it."

"I'll be here whenever you need me, Becs. If you have a panic attack again, please call me and I'll come straight to you."

Beca doesn't like to rely on people, she never really has, because everyone leaves at some point. Even the people you believe will stay in your life forever walk out of it and never return. But there's something about Chloe that makes Beca trust her entirely. Chloe is the first person in Beca's life that she trusts will never leave her, but that scares her more than anything, because if one day she does leave, that will hurt her more than she can imagine, it will leave her broken and shattered to pieces, the pain will be worse than anything she's ever felt before and she never wants to let that happen to her.

So that's why Beca distances herself from Chloe, so she can be the one to leave if times get tough.

Before Beca can process what's happening, Chloe's arms are wrapping around her waist, bringing her close into a hug. Beca scoots closer to Chloe and puts her own hands on Chloe's back.

Chloe is always so caring, and Beca feels like she always throws it all back in her face.

"The girls are back at the house setting up for the movie night." Chloe mentions after they've collectively packed up Beca's equipment. The Bellas left around half an hour ago so they're probably wondering where their captains are. Beca always has something to say about the Bellas movie nights so when she doesn't respond, Chloe knows she still isn't okay. "Are you coming?"

Everyone that knows Beca, knows she doesn't like to be smothered, but it's hard for Chloe not to be overprotective and worry about her when she's just witnessed Beca look so scared.

"No can do, I have a shift at the radio station." Beca mumbles quietly, as she secures the strap of her laptop bag over her shoulder.

"I thought you stopped working there when you got your internship?"

"I did," Beca confirms, "but Luke asked me to be in charge for a few days and I kind of owe him a favour."

Chloe knows Beca is lying, but if she calls her out on her bullshit it might cause an argument and she really doesn't want to argue with her best friend. She knows Beca must be feeling emotionally drained after her panic attack and that she needs some time alone to recover from being so vulnerable with another person. Chloe understands, but she wishes that Beca didn't have to feel that way, she just wants Beca to relax in her arms and feel comfortable enough with her to let out her emotions.

But Chloe knows that's just not who Beca is. Not even with her.

. . .

As soon as Beca walks out of the auditorium she knows exactly what her night has in store for her. She needs to get drunk – so fucking drunk that her mind shuts up for one second. She needs not to feel because it's too overwhelming. And she needs to stop thinking, just for one fucking night.

She sits down in a bar stool rather abruptly, which catches the attention of one of the bartenders.

"What can I get you?" He asks, as he approaches her.

"Whiskey. Neat." Beca says, already digging into her back pocket for some cash.

She downs the drink as soon as the bartender hands it over, then asks for another, which he raises an eyebrow at but pours it anyway. Beca does the same for that one then pushes the glass over to him, with only the ice remaining.

"Can I get a beer?"

"Sure." He nods and reaches for one of the bottles under the bar, cracking it open before passing it to her. She hands over enough cash to cover the three drinks and then settles back in her chair.

She doesn't stop at three, but after five she stops counting.

Beca is a very big lightweight so it doesn't take her long to get absolutely wasted.

The very reasoning for getting drunk in the first place is actually the reason she leaves the bar. Chloe is still all she can think about, the redhead is possessing her mind and she can't stop her thoughts.

"I'm so fucking stupid!" Beca mutters to herself as she drags her feet towards the Barden University campus. She still has her laptop bag fitted on her shoulder, which she guarded possessively at the bar, not letting it out of her sight in case someone spilt a drink on it or attempted to steal it.

All Beca can think about right now is how she wishes she was back at the Bellas house, in Chloe's arms.

Most people have that one person they think about when they're drunk, and for Beca, that person is Chloe. But it's not just when she's drunk, Chloe is in her sober mind constantly. She wishes she could fixate on something else for once but all Beca seems to think about – to care about – is Chloe.

She needs Chloe right now – not even really in a sexual way – she just wants Chloe to hold her and kiss her and run her hand through her hair. It isn't badass at all but Beca doesn't give a shit about her badass reputation anymore. Chloe saw through it right from the beginning.

Her thoughts are still drilling through her mind when she walks up the steps of the Bellas house. She's been so distracted that she hadn't even realised she got here; she can't even remember walking across campus.

Luckily, the door is still unlocked so she slips inside but it slams rather loudly when she closes it.

It's definitely the alcohol talking when she whispers to the door to 'shut up,' because it's 'going to wake everyone up.' Beca manages to stumble across the kitchen until she barges into the table, knocking over a chair which slams to the floor. She jumps backwards, kicking the table leg in the process.

"Fucking motherfucking shit." Beca hisses as she lifts up her foot and hobbles around the room whilst cradling her foot in her hands.

"Um...Beca? Are you okay?" The voice startles her so her body jolts upright. She snaps her head behind her and meets Stacie's gaze. She's standing in her very revealing pyjamas with her phone in her hand.

"Just peachy." Beca says, with a chuckle.

Stacie steps forwards and glances down at the chair lying on the kitchen floor. "Are you drunk?" She questions as she stands the chair back up.

"No. I am Beca."

That is all the confirmation Stacie needs, "Where have you been? This isn't like you at all."

"Who the hell even am I, dude? Who even am I when I'm not with her? Or who am I when I'm with her? Am I me with her or is she me with her...no, wait? I am me with her, but I don't know if I like that. It scares me how real I am with her, that is the real Beca Mitchell."

Stacie's eyebrows knot in confusion, "Beca, what are you talking about? I didn't understand anything you just said."

"I think I love her." Beca blurts out.

"Oh shit." Stacie chuckles, but stops when she acknowledges the pain on the small brunette's face. "This is all because of a girl?"

Beca lets out a loaded sigh, then nods, "Yeah. She's a girl. But I'm not gay...or maybe I am. Who knows?"

Stacie opens her arms, "Come here," she says, whilst holding back a laugh at Beca's expression. She's frowning and her face is all creased up.

"Why?" Beca groans.

"You could do with a hug." Stacie shrugs, "And you're pretty drunk, I don't want you to knock over anything else."

The smaller girl crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't want a hug. I want a hug from...but I keep on fucking up."

"No, you don't." Stacie says, which doesn't seem to reassure Beca at all. The taller girl follows her over to the couch and they take a seat at either end.

"She's beautiful, she's a beautiful panda and I...god, what am I doing?" She rakes her left hand through her hair whilst letting out a shaky breath.

This is a side of Beca that Stacie has never witnessed before, and it's kind of making her nervous. Whenever Beca is stressed or freaking out about something – it doesn't happen that often because Beca is pretty chill – Chloe is always the one to comfort her, so Stacie has no idea what to do.

She decides that sleeping it off is probably the best option. "Beca?"

"Hm?"

"Maybe you should get some sleep, think this over in the morning. Your beautiful panda will still be here in the morning." Stacie's attempt doesn't completely fail but mentioning Beca's 'beautiful panda' is probably not the best thing to say.

"She is really beautiful." Beca mumbles, her tone so soft as she talks about Chloe.

"So you've said." Stacie nods, with a smile. She's always known Beca's badass exterior was just for show and now she finally has a reason to believe that Beca is a big softie. She's falling in love.

Beca stands up rather suddenly, "I think I'm going to tell her."

Stacie groans at Beca, standing up too, just in case she has to be prepared to chase after the small brunette. "Have you just ignored everything I just said to you?"

"No." Beca grunts in response.

"Go to bed, Beca." She demands. Her tone is rather authoritative – she learnt a lot from Aubrey in her freshman year, including how to sound like a bitch in charge. "You can talk to her in the morning when you're not drunk."

Stacie helps Beca up the remaining stairs leading to the attic room. Luckily, she's as light as a feather because Beca was practically leaning her whole weight on Stacie so she was basically carrying her up the flight of stairs.

Fat Amy is already in her bed asleep, which is a surprise because most nights she disappears until the morning, claiming she was on a night time hike, which nobody believes because Amy is not one for exercise – she only vertical runs when she is escaping cardio, which is pretty ironic.

The small brunette flops onto her bed, making no attempt to change out of her jeans into something more comfortable.

Stacie places her hand on Beca's lower back and the other on her hip and tries to roll her over but Beca groans and kicks her legs about frantically. "Get your hands off, dude. I'm not the mega bitch."

"Mitchell, shut up!" Stacie whisper-yells, then pauses when she acknowledges what Beca has just said. "Wait, how did you know about-"

"Posen isn't exactly quiet."

A smirk appears on Stacie's face, "I know."

"Dude. Ew!"

"Where are your sweatpants?" The leggy brunette questions as she kneels down next to Beca's dresser, pulling out her first and second drawers but still not finding the clothing she's looking for.

"Second to bottom drawer." Beca mumbles, as she watches Stacie search through her clothes until she pulls out a pair of sweatpants that used to belong to Chloe before Beca borrowed them and never returned them to her.

Stacie launches the sweatpants across the room, and they land close to Beca's head. She grunts out a "Thanks," as she slips out of her jeans, too drunk and too tired to care that Stacie is still in the room. She slides into the sweatpants and strips her bra, then nestles under the blankets, ready for the sleep to overtake her thoughts.

Beca is known to disobey orders, especially from those giving her demands, so Stacie stands at the top of the stairs until Beca is consumed by sleep.

"You're in quite the shit my friend." Stacie whispers before disappearing down the attic stairs, heading towards hers and Emily's room.

- - - -

also on wattpad: @writteninbechloe 

[grigori77]

Movies of 2020 - My Pre-Summer Favourites (Part 2)

The Top Ten:

10.  TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG – Justin Kurzel has been on my directors-to-watch list for a while now, each of his offerings impressing me more than the last (his home-grown Aussie debut, Snowtown, was a low key wallow in Outback nastiness, while his follow up, Macbeth, quickly became one of my favourite Shakespeare flicks, and I seem to be one of the frustrated few who actually genuinely loved his adaptation of Assassin’s Creed, considering it to be one the very best video game movies out there), and his latest is no exception – returning to his native Australia, he’s brought his trademark punky grit and fever-dream edginess to bear in his quest to bring his country’s most famous outlaw to the big screen in a biopic truly worthy of his name. Two actors bring infamous 19th Century bushranger Ned Kelly to life here, and they’re both exceptional – the earlier half of the film sees newcomer Orlando Schwerdt explode onto the screen as the child Ned, all righteous indignation and fiery stubbornness as he rails against the positions his family’s poverty continues to put him in, then George MacKay (Sunshine On Leith, Captain Fantastic) delivers the best performance of his career in the second half, a barely restrained beast as Ned grown, his mercurial turn bringing the man’s inherent unpredictability to the fore.  The Babadook’s Essie Davis, meanwhile, frequently steals the film from under both of them as Ellen, the fearsome matriarch of the Kelly clan, and Nicholas Hoult is similarly impressive as Constable Fitzpatrick, Ned’s slimily duplicitous friend/nemesis, while there are quality supporting turns from Charlie Hunnam and Russell Crowe as two of the most important men of Ned’s formative years.  In Kurzel’s hands, this account of Australia’s greatest true-life crime saga becomes one of the ultimate marmite movies – its glacial pace, grubby intensity and frequent brutality will turn some viewers off, but fans of more “alternative” cinema will find much to enjoy here.  There’s a blasted beauty to its imagery (this is BY FAR the bleakest the Outback’s ever looked on film), while the screenplay from relative unknown Shaun Grant (adapting Peter Carey’s bestselling novel) is STRONG, delivering rich character development and sublime dialogue, and Kurzel delivers some brilliantly offbeat and inventive action beats in the latter half that are well worth the wait.  Evocative, intense and undeniable, this has just the kind of irreverent punk aesthetic that I’m sure the real life Ned Kelly would have approved of …

9.  JUST MERCY – more true-life cinema, this time presenting an altogether classier account of two idealists’ struggle to overturn horrific racial injustices in Alabama. Writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle) brings heart, passion and honest nobility to the story of fresh-faced young lawyer Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) and his personal crusade to free Walter “Johnny D” McMillan (Jamie Foxx), an African-American man wrongfully sentenced to death for the murder of a white woman.  His only ally is altruistic young paralegal Eva Ansley (Cretton’s regular screen muse Brie Larson), while the opposition arrayed against them is MAMMOTH – not only do they face the cruelly racist might of the Alabama legal system circa 1989, but a corrupt local police force determined to circumvent his efforts at every turn and a thoroughly disinterested prosecutor, Tommy Chapman (Rafe Spall), who’s far too concerned with his own personal political ambitions to be any help.  The cast are uniformly excellent, Jordan and Foxx particularly impressing with career best performances that sear themselves deep into the memory, while there’s a truly harrowing supporting turn from Rob Morgan as Johnny D’s fellow Death Row inmate Herbert, whose own execution date is fast approaching.  This is courtroom drama at its most gripping, Cretton keeping the inherent tension cranked up tight while tugging hard on our heartstrings for maximum effect, and the result is a timely, racially-charged throat-lumper of considerable power and emotional heft that guarantees there won’t be a single dry eye in the house by the time the credits roll.  Further proof, then, that Destin Daniel Cretton is one of those rare talents of his generation – next up is his tour of duty in the MCU with Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings, and if this seems like a strange leftfield turn given his previous track record, I nevertheless have the utmost confidence in him after seeing this …

8.  UNDERWATER – at first glance, this probably seems like a strange choice for the year’s current Top Ten – a much-maligned, commercially underperforming glorified B-movie creature-feature headlined by the former star of the Twilight franchise, there’s no way that could be any good, surely?  Well hold your horses, folks, because not only is this very much worth your time and a comprehensive suspension of your low expectations, but I can’t even consider this a guilty pleasure – as far as I’m concerned this is a GENUINELY GREAT FILM, without reservation.  The man behind the camera is William Eubank, a director whose career I’ve been following with great interest since his feature debut Love (a decidedly oddball but strangely beautiful little space movie) and its more high profile but still unapologetically INDIE follow-up The Signal, and this is the one where he finally delivers wholeheartedly on all that wonderful sci-fi potential.  The plot is deceptively simple – an industrial conglomerate has established an instillation drilling right down to the very bottom of the Marianas Trench, the deepest point in our Earth’s oceans, only for an unknown disaster to leave six survivors from the operation’s permanent crew stranded miles below the surface with very few escape options left – but Eubank and writers Brian Duffield (Jane Got a Gun, Insurgent) and Adam Cozad (The Legend of Tarzan) wring all the possible suspense and fraught, claustrophobic terror out of the premise to deliver a piano wire-tense horror thriller that grips from its sudden start to a wonderfully cathartic climax.  The small but potent cast are all on top form, Vincent Cassel, Jessica Henwick (Netflix’ Iron Fist) and John Gallagher Jr. (Hush, 10 Cloverfield Lane) particularly impressing, and even the decidedly hit-and-miss T.J. Miller delivers a surprisingly likeable turn here, but it’s that Twilight alumnus who REALLY sticks in your memory here – Kristen Stewart’s been doing a pretty good job lately distancing herself from the role that, unfortunately, both made her name and turned her into an object of (rather unfair) derision for many years, but in my opinion THIS is the performance that REALLY separates her from Bella effing-Swan.  Mechanical engineer Norah Price is tough, ingenious and fiercely determined, but with the right amount of vulnerability that we really root for her, and Stewart acts her little heart out in a turn sure to win over her strongest detractors. The creature effects are impressive too, the ultimate threat proving some of the nastiest, most repulsively icky creations I’ve seen committed to film, and the inspired design work and strong visual effects easily belie the film’s B-movie leanings.  Those made uneasy by deep, dark open water or tight, enclosed spaces should take heed that this can be a tough watch, but anyone who likes being scared should find plenty to enjoy here.  Altogether a MUCH better film than its mediocre Rotten Tomatoes rating makes it out to be …

7.  ONWARD – Disney and Pixar’s latest digitally animated family feature clearly has a love of tabletop fantasy roleplay games like Dungeons & Dragons, its quirky modern-day AU take populated by fantastical races and creatures seemingly tailor-made for the geek crowd … needless to say, me and many of my friends absolutely loved it. That doesn’t mean that the classic Disney ideals of love, family and believing in yourself have been sidelined in favour of fan-service – this is as heartfelt, affecting and tearful as their previous standouts, albeit with plenty of literal magic added to the metaphorical kind.  The central premise is a clever one – once upon a time, magic was commonplace, but over the years technology came along to make life easier, so that in the present day the various races (elves, centaurs, fauns, pixies, goblins and trolls among others) get along fine without it.  Then timid elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) receives a wizard’s staff for his sixteenth birthday, a bequeathed gift from his father, who died before he was born, with instructions for a spell that could bring him back to life for one whole day.  Encouraged by his brash, over-confident wannabe adventurer elder brother Barley (Chris Pratt), Ian tries it out, only for the spell to backfire, leaving them with the animated bottom half of their father and just 24 hours to find a means to restore the rest of him before time runs out.  Cue an “epic quest” … needless to say, this is another top-notch offering from the original masters of the craft, a fun, affecting and thoroughly infectious family-friendly romp with a winning sense of humour and inspired, flawless world-building.  Holland and Pratt are both fantastic, their odd-couple chemistry effortlessly driving the story through its ingenious paces, and the ensuing emotional fireworks are hilarious and heartbreaking in equal measure, while there’s typically excellent support from Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Elaine from Seinfeld) as Ian and Barley’s put-upon but supportive mum, Laurel, Octavia Spencer as once-mighty adventurer-turned-restaurateur “Corey” the Manticore and Mel Rodriguez (Getting On, The Last Man On Earth) as overbearing centaur cop (and Laurel’s new boyfriend) Colt Bronco.  The film marks the sophomore feature gig for Dan Scanlon, who debuted with 2013’s sequel Monsters University, and while that was enjoyable enough I ultimately found it non-essential – no such verdict can be levelled against THIS film, the writer-director delivering magnificently in all categories, while the animation team have outdone themselves in every scene, from the exquisite world-building and character/creature designs to some fantastic (and frequently delightfully bonkers) set-pieces, while there’s a veritable riot of brilliant RPG in-jokes to delight geekier viewers (gelatinous cube! XD).  Massive, unadulterated fun, frequently hilarious and absolutely BURSTING with Disney’s trademark heart, this is currently (and deservedly) my animated feature of the year.  It’s certainly gonna be a tough one to beat …

6.  THE GENTLEMEN – Guy Ritchie’s been having a rough time with his last few movies (The Man From UNCLE didn’t do too bad but it wasn’t exactly a hit and was largely overlooked or simply ignored critically, while intended franchise-starter King Arthur: Legend of the Sword was largely derided and suffered badly on release, dying a quick death financially – it’s a shame on both counts, because I really liked them), so it’s nice to see him having some proper success with his latest, even if he has basically reverted to type to do it.  Still, when his newest London gangster flick is THIS GOOD it seems churlish to quibble – this really is what he does best, bringing together a collection of colourful geezers and shaking up their status quo, then standing back and letting us enjoy the bloody, expletive-riddled results. This particularly motley crew is another winning selection, led by Matthew McConaughey as ruthlessly successful cannabis baron Mickey Pearson, who’s looking to retire from the game by selling off his massive and highly lucrative enterprise for a most tidy sum (some $400,000,000 to be precise) to up-and-coming fellow American ex-pat Matthew Berger (Succession’s Jeremy Strong, oozing sleazy charm), only for local Chinese triad Dry Eye (Crazy Rich Asians’ Henry Golding, chewing the scenery with enthusiasm) to start throwing spanners into the works with the intention of nabbing the deal for himself for a significant discount.  Needless to say Mickey’s not about to let that happen … McConaughey is ON FIRE here, the best he’s been since Dallas Buyers Club in my opinion, clearly having great fun sinking his teeth into this rich character and Ritchie’s typically sparkling, razor-witted dialogue, and he’s ably supported by a uniformly excellent ensemble cast, particularly co-star Charlie Hunnam as Mickey’s ice-cold, steel-nerved right-hand-man Raymond Smith, Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery as his classy, strong-willed wife Rosalind, Colin Farrell as a wise-cracking, quietly exasperated MMA trainer and small-time hood simply known as the Coach (who gets many of the film’s best lines), and, most notably, Hugh Grant as the film’s nominal narrator, thoroughly morally bankrupt private investigator Fletcher, who consistently steals the film.  This is Guy Ritchie at his very best – a twisty rug-puller of a plot that constantly leaves you guessing, brilliantly observed and richly drawn characters you can’t help loving in spite of the fact there’s not a single hero among them, a deliciously unapologetic, politically incorrect sense of humour and a killer soundtrack.  It got the cinematic year off to a cracking start, and looks set to stay high in the running for the remainder – it’s EASILY Ritchie’s best film since Sherlock Holmes, and a strong call-back to the heady days of Snatch (STILL my favourite) and Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels.  Here’s hoping he’s on a roll again, eh?

5.  THE INVISIBLE MAN – looks like third time’s a charm for Leigh Whannell, writer-director of my current horror movie of the year – while he’s had immense success as a horror writer over the years (co-creator of both the Saw and Insidious franchises), as a director his first two features haven’t exactly set the world alight, with debut Insidious: Chapter III garnering similar takes to the rest of the series but ultimately turning out to be a bit of a damp squib quality-wise, while his second feature Upgrade was a stone-cold masterpiece that was (rightly) EXTREMELY well received critically, but ultimately snuck in under the radar and has remained a stubbornly hidden gem since.  No such problems with his third feature, though – his latest collaboration with producer Jason Blum and his insanely lucrative Blumhouse Pictures has proven a massive hit both financially AND with reviewers, and deservedly so.  Having given up on trying to create a shared cinematic universe inhabited by their classic monsters, Universal have resolved to concentrate on standalones to showcase their elite properties, and their first try is a rousing success, Whannell bringing HG Wells’ dark and devious human monster smack into the 21st Century as only he can.  The result is a surprisingly subtle piece of work, much more a lethally precise exercise in cinematic sleight of hand and extraordinary acting than flashy visual effects, very much adhering to the Blumhouse credo of maximum returns for minimum bucks as the story is stripped right back to its bare essentials and allowed to play out without any unnecessary weight.  The Handmaid’s Tale’s Elizabeth Moss once again confirms what a masterful actress she is as she brings all her performing weapons to bear in the role of Cecelia “Cee” Kass, the cloistered wife of affluent but monstrously abusive optics pioneer Aidan Griffin (Netflix’ The Haunting of Hill House’s Oliver Jackson-Cohen), who escapes his clutches in the furiously tense opening sequence and goes to ground with the help of her closest childhood friend, San Francisco cop James Lanier (Leverage’s Aldis Hodge) and his teenage daughter Sydney (A Wrinkle in Time’s Storm Reid).  Two weeks later, Aidan commits suicide, leaving Cee with a fortune to start her life over (with the proviso that she’s never ruled mentally incompetent), but as she tries to find her way in the world again little things start going wrong for her, and she begins to question if there might be something insidious going on.  As her nerves start to unravel, she begins to suspect that Aidan is still alive, still very much in her life, fiendishly toying with her and her friends, but no-one can see him.  Whannell plays her paranoia up for all it’s worth, skilfully teasing out the scares so that, just like her friends, we begin to wonder if it might all in her head after all, before a spectacular mid-movie reveal throws the switch into high gear and the true threat becomes clear.  The lion’s share of the film’s immense success must of course go to Moss – her performance is BEYOND a revelation, a truly blistering career best turn that totally powers the whole enterprise, and it almost goes without saying that she’s the best thing in this.  Even so, she has sterling support from Hodge and Reid, as well as Love Child’s Harriet Dyer as Cee’s estranged big sister Emily and Wonderland’s Michael Dorman as Adrian’s slimy, spineless lawyer brother Tom, and, while he doesn’t have much actual (ahem) “screen time”, Jackson-Cohen delivers a fantastically icy, subtly malevolent turn which casts a large “shadow” over the film.  This is one of my very favourite Blumhouse films, a pitch-perfect psychological chiller that keeps the tension cranked up unbearably tight and never lets go, Whannell once again displaying uncanny skill with expert jump-scares, knuckle-whitening chills and a truly astounding standout set-piece that looks set to go down as one of the year’s top action sequences.  Undoubtedly the best version of Wells’ story to date, this goes a long way in repairing the damage of Universal’s abortive “Dark Universe” efforts, as well as showcasing a filmmaking master at the very height of his talents.

4.  EXTRACTION – the Coronavirus certainly has thrown a massive spanner in the works of this year’s cinematic calendar – the new A Quiet Place sequel should have been setting the big screen alight for almost two months now, while the latest (and most long-awaited) MCU movie, Black Widow, should have just opened to further record-breaking box office success, but instead the theatres are all closed and virtually all the big blockbusters have been pushed back or shelved indefinitely. Thank God, then, for the streaming services, particularly Hulu, Amazon and Netflix, the latter of which provided a perfect movie for us to see through the key transition from spring to the summer blockbuster season, an explosively flashy big budget action thriller ushered in by MCU alumni the Russo Brothers (who produced and co-wrote this adaptation of Ciudad, a graphic novel that Joe Russo co-created with Ande Parks and Fernando Leon Gonzalez) and barely able to contain the sheer star-power wattage of its lead, Thor himself.  Chris Hemsworth plays Tyler Rake, a former Australian SAS operative who hires out his services to an extraction operation, under the command of mercenary Nik Khan (The Patience Stone’s Golshifteh Farahani), brought in to liberate Ovi Mahajan (Rudhraksh Jaiswal in his first major role), the pre-teen son of incarcerated Indian crime lord Ovi Sr. (Pankaj Tripathi), who has been abducted by Bangladeshi rival Amir Asif (Priyanshu Painyuli).  The rescue itself goes perfectly, but when the time comes for the hand-off the team is double-crossed and Tyler is left stranded in the middle of Dhaka with no choice but to keep Ovi alive as every corrupt cop and street gang in the city closes in around them.  This is the feature debut of Sam Hargrave, the latest stuntman to try his hand at directing, so he certainly knows his way around an action sequence, and the result is a thoroughly breathless adrenaline rush of a film, bursting at the seams with spectacular fights, gun battles and car chases, dominated by a stunning sustained action sequence that plays out in one long shot, guaranteed to leave jaws lying on the floor.  Not that there should be any surprise – Hargrave cut his teeth as a stunt coordinator for the Russos on Captain America: Civil War and their Avengers films.  That said, he displays strong talent for the quieter disciplines of filmmaking too, delivering quality character development and drawing out consistently noteworthy performances from his cast.  Of course, Hemsworth can do the action stuff in his sleep, but there’s a lot more to Tyler than just his muscle, the MCU veteran investing him with real wounded vulnerability and a tragic fatalism which colours his every scene, while Jaiswal is exceptional throughout, showing plenty of promise for the future, and there’s strong support from Farahani and Painyuli, as well as Stranger Things’s David Harbour as world-weary retired merc Gaspard, and a particularly impressive, muscular turn from Randeep Hooda (Once Upon a Time in Mumbai) as Saju, a former Para and Ovi’s bodyguard, who’s determined to take possession of the boy himself, even if he has to go through Tyler to get him.  This is action cinema that really deserves to be seen on the big screen – I watched it twice in a week and would happily have paid for two trips to the cinema for it if I could have.  As we look down the barrel of a summer season largely devoid of big blockbuster fare, I can’t recommend this film enough.  Thank the gods for Netflix …

3.  PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to the truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all.  It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering some deeply troubling answers.  Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s veritable good luck charm Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two cents together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity.  Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun).  Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the young Kims contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically.  But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon.  This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head, to stunning effect.  The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn which is at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon.  This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away.  Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with so far, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade.  Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

2.  1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed.  Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed.  The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of a film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that it’s impossible to tear your eyes away from.  Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league.  It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack).  They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos.  That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DoP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is totally immersive and simply STUNNING.  I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same.  Either way, this is the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I’ve had at the cinema this year (so far) – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

1.  BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number one right now is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen.  It’s been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year so far getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it’s been done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than Wonder Woman).  It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that this time round they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one hell of a talented psychiatrist.  Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to.  Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the supposed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about. Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what has to be the year’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, aka the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action heroine potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain.  Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting  mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discovery her warrior origins when the DCEU gets around to introducing Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy.  My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most truly inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a truly ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT.  Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, aka the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (currently my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz. This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster yet – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms.  It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!).  It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists.  Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date (Wonder Woman 1984 has got a MAJOR job ahead of it beating this one), and my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020 (so far).  Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

[bangtanfancamp]

the Devil wears Gucci-Part 3

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Masterlist

▪︎series Masterlist

▪︎Kim Taehyung x reader(featuring Kim Namjoon)

▪︎1.7k words

•Enemies to lovers au, fashion industry au, loosely devil wears Prada au, f*ckboy au, fluff, romance, angsty banter

As the dedicated personal assistant of the genius mind behind House of RM, the empire that rules the fashion industry, your world is turned upside down the day Namjoon personally asks you to train his newest hire- the eternally insufferable opposite Kim Taehyung.

(Not my photo. Credit to vantaeholic)

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(Tae’s lunch || Tae’s POV)

I used one of my fries to poke the others around my plate, trying to figure out how I’d screwed this up all ready. I know I tend to joke around a lot, but it always seems to put women at ease. Things go better when they’re laughing. And whose day isn’t better for being flirted with?

I just had to work for the one girl who got pissed off by it. Everyone likes me. So what was the problem? Even the women at the cafeteria here liked having me smile at them or tell them how beautiful they were. Women liked that kind of attention, right?

Everyone goes through their day trying to impress the world around them, but everyone else is so wrapped up in themselves that they never even see them. I see it. I see how long the girl who took my order spent trying to cover up her freckles with her makeup, so I told her how cute they were. I saw how tired the woman who gave me my change was so I told her how much her eyes sparkled in this light. I noticed how nervous that cute girl across the office was so I smiled at her. What was so wrong with that?

Why did ____ have to look so disgusted with me all the time? I was just having fun. Life is hard enough anyway. People want to laugh. People want to be told they look good. And so what if I get a date out of it or someone invites me home. We’re all adults and we’re allowed to have fun. No one needs to be that serious all the time. And God, she worships that maniac, doesn’t she?

She got so mad when I mentioned it though. I thought girls liked talking about their crushes, but... maybe ____ is more private than I thought. Maybe I took it too far. It’s just so infuriating how she talks about him. She’s just so wrapped up in praising god Kim Namjoon- she made it so obvious that she had a thing for that egomaniac. I thought she’d finally laugh with me or at the very least blush and elbow me in the ribs, but she looked….i don’t know. She looked hurt. I think I crossed a line I didn’t mean to.

God, it’s barely been a day and I’d wrecked the only good part of this job. I noticed her the second I walked into that office. She got to me in 2 seconds flat. That hair, those legs, the way that skirt hit her curves- it made want to wrap my hands around those hips and bend her right over that jerk’s desk. God. I was already gone the second I laid eyes in her...

But then when she looked at me and I saw her face….she was beautiful. She’s quick and clever and obviously good at what she does. Everyone here seems to get along with her. I like ____. Honestly, she seems pretty cool. She’s just stuck on that douchebag. But hey, some girls are are really into that whole power and authority kink. Who am I to judge?

I just didn’t think there’d be any harm being vocal about things since everyone seems to think I won’t last here very long anyway. Might as well shoot my shot while I can, right ?

I slid my hips down in my seat and raked my hands through my hair. This place would never be my first choice, but it didn’t seem that bad, I guess.

There were things I’d much rather be doing with my time, but I’d do it for my mom. Anything for her. My stupid uncle in her ear caused this whole mess. At the end of the day, all of this was his fault for meddling in my life anyway.

Chin propped in my hands, I looked out the hundredth set of floor to ceiling windows I’d seen today wondering how long I’d even have this view when movement in the corner of the room caught my eye. It was ____. I felt myself starting to smile just because she was here. Maybe we could get on the right foot now and she’d loosen up a li-wait. She looked like- like she’d been crying. The skin beneath her eyes was puffy, and the light she’d had around her earlier seemed.... dimmer. Her teeth were clenched, her chin set extra high as she walked my way, white knuckling the tablet in her hands. She looked pissed. But calmly so, which was honestly scarier.

Crap, I really stepped in it this time, didn’t I?

I quickly scrambled to stand up from the table, but she pulled out a chair instead and sat down beside me. Folding her fingers together on the tabletop, she cleared her throat and looked up at me, challenge and grit lacing her gaze.

“Have a seat please, Mr. Kim.”

For the first time in a long time, I had no idea what to say, so I followed her instructions.

“I’m glad to see you retained enough information from our tour to have been able to find this place. That’s a good sign at least. If you already have the layout down, I’ll brief you on what a basic day here looks like. Tomorrow Namjoon will be returning from a charity gala in Miami. On a typical morning, he is to be greeted with his hot coffee of choice, typically an extra hot hazelnut latte with an extra shot of espresso. Not two shots. Not three. Just one. Trust me, he’ll know. He despises soy milk and has an almond allergy so no fancy milks unless you’d like to be wearing it as an accessory for the rest of your day. Now that is a normal day, however, when he returns from a red eye flight, he expects to be promptly greeted with the first step of the juice cleanse from the Buddha bliss juice bar down on 7th so he is not visibly puffy during any press work for the day….”

She rattled on like this in detail for the next 15 minutes and it finally started to sink in who the real power at house of RM was-_____. Sure Namjoon pulled the big levers, but she made sure he never fell apart and that seemed like a super power all by itself. She knew every like, dislike, allergy, pet schedule, dry cleaner, exercise schedule, person to kiss up to, person to avoid...And she knew every contingency to tweak things for so he didn’t go off the rails and downsize half a department for their assumed incompetency just because he was sleep deprived and jet lagged off a red eye after being dumped by his latest high profile fling.

Not gonna lie- it was extremely impressive. And kind of hot. I don’t know if I’d ever seen a girl that strategic and smart. She really knew what she was doing. How she managed to be three steps ahead of the world's youngest self made man was a fearsome thing to see. The way she analyzed all these situations made me wonder if she was analyzing me too, but I didn't think on that for too long. She didn’t romanticize him this time. I noticed that. Just laid out all the facts as they were and how to troubleshoot for all of them. It was like watching a master explain chess strategies, and I respected it.

But at the same time, it made me wonder. Just how much of a man-sized brat was Namjoon? it was kind of disgusting how much the man needed to be coddled honestly. How easily everyone accommodated his massive ego. It definitely didn’t help me hate him any less.

“So!” She resolved, tapping a stack of papers against the tabletop to level them out.

“I realize that was probably an onslaught, but you have to dive straight into the deep end to stay ahead here. Any questions?”

“Yeah, just one: what time do you get here every day?” I leaned forward on my elbows, searching her face. She seemed caught off guard by my question, quickly trying to rearrange her expression after feeling like she’d been in control for our entire conversation.

“Just before 7am. I try to beat Namjoon here so I can prepare things for the day. It doesn’t always work though. It’s almost like he sleeps here sometimes.”

“And what time do you go home?”

“On paper? 6pm. In reality? I’d say typically 10 on a good night. Somewhere between 11 and midnight on his particularly temperamental days.”

Holy crap. Was she serious? “Last question.”

“Okayyy…” she pulled back from the table, body language screaming discomfort about where I might be going.

“So, if you’re here- how many days a week?”

“Five.” She answered succinctly, tone clipped. “Unless we’re approaching a deadline for a project- then weekends become mandatory too.” Jesus.

“And any holidays?” I add. Her gentle face is steely and guarded. I wouldn’t trust me right now either, dollface.

“Of course not. But there often is more work to be done than that accommodates so I usually come in anyway.”

“Uh huh. Right. So! Let me get this straight- you know what? for your sake, let’s even round down some. Let’s say, you’re here six days a week, working anywhere from 11-15 hour days. At minimum, you’re working well over at least 15-20 hours of overtime PER week with no vacations— which is not only unethical, it’s illegal. All for the glorious empire of Kim Namjoon. So. Riddle me this-when do you ever get to live your own life?”

Silence.

She dipped and furrowed her eyebrows at me. I could see her lashes fluttering as she scrambled overtime to come up with a defensive answer for me. I settled back in my seat, arms draped behind my head, knowing in some weird way, that I had won.

“You’re beautiful. You’re young. This can’t possibly be the way you want to spend all your time. Tell me-When was the last time you slept in til the sun woke you up? The last time you had a Netflix marathon in a grubby old T-shirt with dorito stains on your fingers and a giant glass of wine? Or! even went out on actual date for that matter? Why are you here wasting your 20’s away in this place running Namjoons company for him and getting none of the credit?”

She gaped, beautiful mouth struggling open and shut like a fish freshly yanked out of the water. I couldn’t tell if she was furious with me or just lost. It didn’t look like she’d ever asked herself that before.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do my job here. I’ll do what you ask. But do me a favor and think about that. It’d be such a shame to see so much beautiful potential go to waste.” I pushed off from the table to stand. I felt my chest swell- I had the upper hand again. “Now, I believe you mentioned something earlier about finding me a desk space upstairs. Shall we get started on that? I’ll need a pleasing environment if I’m expected to slug through all of Namjoon’s nonsense on a daily basis. The closer to you, the better.” I started to walk away, not waiting for her but knowing in my gut she’d follow. She wasn’t the only one allowed to have a mic drop moment.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Part 4

Series masterlist

Thank you guys so much for reading til the end and visiting my little corner of the internet. I am SO excited about where this series is going. I started writing one of the last chapters first and have been going backwards to figure out what happened to get us there and- you guys- I can’t wait for you to see!! Should I try to come up with a regular upload schedule?? Let me know. ✨

[pepidefbummie]

Focus [GOT7 Jaebeom]

Focus on Me inspired this lol. The whole Focus album legit sounds like it’s perfect for Vogue y’all.

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: Romance [A little suggestive towards the end!]

Summary: [Model AU] You become the new model for JYP Industries’ high-end clothing line. There, you meet the mysterious and undeniably sexy Lim Jaebeom.

Word count: 3,096

When you were a child, people always called you “cute” or “pretty girl”. Well, obviously, doesn’t everyone do that with kids?

When you were in high school, a whole lot of girls were prettier than you, but you were still confident and happy in your own skin. Who wouldn’t? You had great friends, supportive family, and decent grades.

In college, you were stellar. You were a member of different clubs and organizations, made amazing friends, got good marks, and even started taking your Instagram seriously. Initially, posting aesthetic photos or yourself in beautiful sceneries or cute OOTDs was just out of fun or to let your creative side out. You never meant to take it way too seriously.

During your final year in college, someone contacted you to do modelling part-time, and you were surprised. You gave in, enjoyed it, and here you are now, doing modelling as a career. You did photoshoots for simpler brands in fashion and makeup, but you were content with that. It all changed when you got a phone call from JYP Industries, saying that they wanted you to be the new model for their high-end fashion line.

“I don’t know if I can do this!” you panic, turning to your best friend, Bambam.

He was a close friend of yours during your earlier modelling days, but eventually, he became a model at JYP much earlier than you did. “Relax, y/n! You’ve got this! You’re a natural after all.” Bambam smiles, “I mean, not as amazing as me, but you’re going to do great.”

You chuckle at your friend’s encouragement, “Only if the one and only Bambam says so.”

“I said so.” Bambam winks, “Go y/n!”

Just then, an assistant calls for you. You follow her to another room where the staff get you into really luxurious-looking clothes and put on some really expensive-looking makeup. You are then ushered to another room where they tell you to wait for a few minutes. You sit on the leather couch, fidgeting non-stop. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a sharp-looking man leans against the wall while scrolling through his phone. His eyes are dark and mysterious; you somehow feel captivated by them. When he makes eye contact with you, your heart starts to jump out of your chest. His gaze lingers on you, expression unreadable. You don’t notice a male approaching you, a carton of chocolate milk in his hand. “Hey! Are you the new girl Jinyoung-hyung was talking about?”

You jolt up and turn to see a young man with a huge smile on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am.” you smile nervously.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Yugyeom.” Yugyeom offers his hand, “I just started a few months ago.”

“I’m y/n.” you smile more calmly now, “I believe I saw one of your photos in a designer store not too long ago.”

His cheeks turn pink, but before he can say anything else, a princely-looking male puts a hand on his shoulder. “Our stylist noona isn’t going to be happy if you spill your drink all over the suit.”

Yugyeom laughs, “I’m not gonna do that, Jinyoung-hyung!”

Jinyoung sighs as if he’s had enough of the sunshine boy, “Ok, ok, but you need to head to your venue. The photographer is waiting.”

Yugyeom nods before waving goodbye at you. You turn your attention back to the mysterious guy with dark eyes, but he’s already exiting the room. Jinyoung clears his throat to get your attention, “Miss Y/n, I am Jinyoung, one of the head models in JYP, and our boss assigned me to evaluate your performance, per se, today. How you do during today’s mock photoshoot will determine whether JYP will really hire you.”

You nod before standing up to bow, “I’ll do my best.”

You proceed to doing a few poses for Jinyoung as the photographer takes photos. An hour later, Jinyoung reviews your photos, a soft smile on his lips. “Bambam was right. You’re pretty good.”

“Wow, that’s an honor to hear.” you giddily grin, “Especially from someone as popular as you.”

Jinyoung chuckles before softly patting your shoulder, “I think JYP could use a model like you. Let’s hope he agrees.”

A few days later, you receive a call from JYP himself, saying that you are officially a model for JYP Industries. You squeal inside, trying to remain professional outside. But as soon as he hangs up, you gush out and call Bambam who screams with you. He persuades you to go out for a celebratory drink in a nearby bar, and you say yes.

Later that evening, you dress in a simple black mini-dress that hugs your body perfectly, black ankle-strap pumps, simple eye makeup, but bold red lips. He picks you up at your apartment, but you’re surprised to see Yugyeom driving with Bambam at the passenger’s seat, both in expensive suits. “Yugyeom?” you smile.

“Hello, and congrats on officially becoming a model with us!” Yugyeom exclaims.

You get in the car, and as Yugyeom drives away, you ask Bambam, “I’m assuming you brought Yugyeom along to our celebratory drink?”

Bambam smirks, “Not just Yugyeom, but my whole modelling gang.”

“And those are…?” you ask, curiously.

Yugyeom grins, “Our hyungs – Jinyoung, Jaebeom, Mark, Jackson and Youngjae!”

“Oh my gosh, Bambam!” you lightly swat his shoulder, “You know how shy I can get! And these guys are like the pros of modelling! I feel so much pressure right now.”

Bambam laughs, “Isn’t she cute?”

“She is.” Yugyeom nods innocently.

“Relax, y/n.” Bambam smiles at you, “They’d be happy to meet you and get to know you. They’re not as bad as you’re thinking.”

“Just watch out for Jackson-hyung. He’s a hugger.” Yugyeom chuckles.  

You arrive at the venue, and it’s a rather posh-looking bar. You take a deep breath and walk side-by-side with the two males. You are ushered to a private area, where there are already five men sitting at the table. “The lady of the hour has arrived!” Bambam exclaims, and the men clap their hands.

“Congratulations, y/n.” Jinyoung smiles.

“Ah, thank you.” you smile shyly.

“She’s gorgeous, you guys!” a happy male stands up and gestures to you, “You’re beautiful!”

He goes over to you for a hug, “I’m Jackson. Glad to have you with us.”

You chuckle at gently pat his back, “It’s an honor, actually.”

“Easy there, Jackson. You might scare her.” Another male laughs as he makes space beside him. Bambam nudges you to sit there, and you all take your seats.

“I’m Mark.” the male smiles, “You already met Jinyoung, Jackson, Yugyeom and Bambam. That 24/7 laughing guy is Youngjae, and this sexy one is Jaebeom.”

You joyfully smile at Youngjae who gives you a high-five, but that smile threatens to disappear when you turn to this Jaebeom guy – it’s Mr. Dark and Mysterious from the other day. The one you couldn’t rip your eyes away from. “Hi.” is all you say.

And your heart nearly bursts when he flashes the smallest but most charming smile ever. “Congratulations.”

You and Jaebeom stare into each other’s eyes once again, and Jackson nearly makes a whistle sound, but Bambam interrupts anything by declaring, “Now that we know each other, let’s get this party started!”

You and Jaebeom finally look away, and soon enough, Bambam and Jackson are ordering drinks. Within a few hours, Mark is already trying to keep Jackson from completely wilding, Youngjae won’t stop laughing at them, Yugyeom and Bambam are totally killing it on the karaoke machine, and Jinyoung looks like he wants to murder them. You excuse yourself from the room to get some fresh air on the bar’s balcony, but as you stand there to enjoy the chilly breeze, a stranger approaches you. “Hey, gorgeous. You look lonely.”

You turn to see a dashing-looking male, but surely drunk. “Oh no, I’m with friends, it’s ok.” You turn your back on him, attention on the city skyline.

He stands a few inches behind you, hand hovering above your bottom. You tense up as he whispers, “They wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you for a while, would they?”

You clear your throat, “No thank you. Please just go.”

The stranger starts to move closer and caresses your bottom with one hand while the other travels up your waist in an excruciatingly slow pace. “You look delicious tonight. It would be a waste.”

“No! Stop it!” you shout, but the man grips your hips tightly, pulling you against him. His hand leaves your bottom but covers your mouth instead, and the hand on your hips starts to run all over your body. Not too long after, someone yanks the man away from you. You and the stranger turn to see Jaebeom, his sharp eyes enough to scare the stranger away. You look down in shame, “Thank you.”

Jaebeom joins you at the balcony and leans against the railing, “This may be a rich person’s club, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t any sleazy men. Money can’t buy manners.”

You nod and stand beside Jaebeom, still looking at the floor. “Hey,” Jaebeom puts his hand on your shoulder, “you ok?” he asks softly.

You sigh, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…shaken.”

Jaebeom decides to joke around to lighten the mood, “Couldn’t handle the boys’ craziness?”

“Oh, no it’s not that.” you laugh, “Bambam’s like that all the time. I just wanted to take a breather. Convince myself that this is all real. That I’m really modelling with all of you in such a renowned brand.”

Jaebeom chuckles, smiling with his teeth, “Why do you seem so surprised? Your photos were great.”

A blush creeps up to your cheeks, “I’m not the best, nor am I the prettiest. Like. I’m sure JYP could find others who are better.”

Jaebeom leans in and whispers, oblivious to your pounding heart, “Whatever it is, you’re here. So make it count and make him proud.”

Within the next few days, you’ve had two or three photoshoots with the company. During your free schedules, you hang out with the seven guys you became friends with. Besides Yugyeom and Bambam, Jackson was the easiest to become close to. Mark became an “older brother” kind of friend while Youngjae was like the “younger brother”. Jinyoung was like your mentor – and you ranted or confided in him from time to time. Jaebeom was a bit tight-lipped at first, but there were times you were able to break his “bad boy” act and make him join in the stupid antics.

One day, you were at a vacant room, practicing your poses for a certain photoshoot that you were going to have in a few hours. As you stood there, looking at yourself in the mirror, and voice chuckled, “You know, posing usually comes naturally when it’s actually time to take the photos?”

You turn to see an amused Jaebeom watching you from the doorway. “Well, unlike you, some people are not naturals at modelling.” you smirk playfully.

“Says you.” Jaebeom laughs.

He steps towards you, hands in his pockets. His outfit today is incredibly simple – a plain white shirt that fits his muscular body perfectly, a dark blue jacket, black jeans and black shoes – but he still looks like the sexiest man alive. “What’s the theme? Concept?”

You blush and look away, mumbling a soft, “L-lingerie.”

Jaebeom stops himself from laughing, but his smile says it all. “Don’t laugh!” you squeal, swatting his chest.

“I’m not. It’s just…cute? Funny? That you’re so nervous to do this.” Jaebeom smirks.

You sigh, “I’m not! It’s just that I’ve never really done anything like this. I didn’t even know the clothing line had lingerie.”

“Of course it does. You probably just don’t look at it.” Jaebeom laughs, “Show me.”

You roll your eyes at him and show him the intimate things you’ll be modelling later. It’s not overly revealing lingerie, but you never exposed your skin or areas like that before. Jaebeom gives you back your phone and bluntly says, “What are you worried about? Not being sexist or creepy, but you do have a nice body. You’re the perfect model for this collection.”

You nod, “That’s what Bam said, but I’m just…not used to showing…too much.”

Jaebeom softly smiles, “Jackson usually does the shirtless stuff, so he’d have better advice, but what I can tell you is that you just need to be confident. Don’t overthink, don’t try too hard. Just…be confident in what you can do.”

“Since when did you become this wise?” you tease.

“I am the epitome of sexy.” Jaebeom says rather straight-faced, causing you to laugh.

“Ok, sure you are.” you grin.

Jaebeom smirks before ruffling your hair, “You can do it, y/n. I’m looking forward to it.”

You nod with a big smile on your lips, but as Jaebeom starts to walk out the door, you realize what he just said, “Wait! Lim Jaebeom! What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Jaebeom is already out of the room, a smirk playing on his lips. You huff and cross your arms, struggling to hide the smile breaking out.

Hours later, the staff put on your makeup, fix your hair and get your dressed into the lingerie sets. You feel butterflies in your stomach as the photographer sets up his equipment. After a few shots – some good, some awkward – you change into another outfit, but as you’re posing, Jaebeom walks into the room, watching you from the door. You suddenly feel even more self-conscious and can’t seem to pose properly. The photographer and director seem exasperated and call for a break. You rush to the leather couch in embarrassment, sitting down and burying your head in your hands. Jaebeom quietly sits beside you, but you mumble, “Don’t ask.”

Jaebeom sighs and gets up to speak to one of the coordinators. “Noona, can I speak to y/n for a while? She’ll be back in no time. I’ll just give her some tips.”

The woman thinks for a few seconds before nodding, “Sure, just be back in 30 minutes. The shoot will resume.”

Jaebeom nods and returns to you. He takes your hand and pulls you up on your feet. You stand there, a few inches away from each other, staring in silence. Until, that is, you remember that you’re still in the lingerie from the photoshoot. You instinctively cover yourself with your arms, blushing. Jaebeom helplessly chuckles at you before draping his jacket over you. “Come with me. Let’s talk.”

You follow Jaebeom to the room next door, and there he closes the door. “I can’t do this, Jaebeom. I’m not a lingerie underwear model.”

Jaebeom shrugs, “A model is a model.” he softly smiles before continuing, “JYP thinks you’re the perfect one for this collection.”

“That’s what he thinks.” you sigh, wrapping Jaebeom’s jacket tighter around you.

Jaebeom steps closer to you, and without any warning, he takes the jacket away. “Hey! Jaebeom!” you squeal, feeling exposed and naked without the covering.

Jaebeom throws the jacket to the other side of the room and crosses his arms. He doesn’t look at your body – he looks directly at your face. “You’re too self-conscious, y/n. Don’t think about the people looking at you. Focus on the camera and yourself.”

You notice Jaebeom’s eyes travelling down, and soon enough, his hands are on your shoulders. “Relax your body. You look like a plank of wood, y/n.” he laughs.

“Gee, thanks for the encouragement, hahaha.” you sarcastically laugh back.

Jaebeom imitates your mock laugh before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. “Jaebeom – wait, what ar – ” you stutter, flustered.

Jaebeom’s eyes are locked on yours, “Focus on me, y/n. My eyes only.”

You stop squirming, your eyes finding his. You take a deep breath, and for what seems to be hours, you and Jaebeom are just gazing at each other’s eyes once again. Your body relaxes in Jaebeom’s arms and he softens his grip. “I still don’t see what your point is.” you whisper.

“Y/n, you’re really something.” Jaebeom rolls his eyes but chuckles nonetheless, “You felt conscious because you think that I could be staring at you in your lingerie, right? But when I told you to focus on just my eyes, you relaxed.”

You nod and Jaebeom continues, “Imagine that my eyes are the camera. Focus on the camera, not on the other eyes that are looking at you.”

You let out a soft giggle before smiling, “Ok, ok. I got it.”

Jaebeom smiles back at you, but both of you have seem to forgotten that you were pressed against each other. “Umm, Jaebeom?” you blush.

Jaebeom realizes and blushes himself before frantically retrieving his jacket and putting it over you once again. He holds your shoulders and smirks, back to his calm demeanor. You look up at him and smile softly, “Thanks, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything, but something in him snaps, and he can’t hold himself back. He slowly leans in closer to you, capturing your lips in his with a slow kiss. You’re initially taken by surprise, but once your brain registers what is happening, you kiss him back softly. His arms snake around your waist while your arms coil around his neck, pulling each other closer than before. The kiss grows deeper, but before you both continue, you pull away, “Is this even ok?”

Jaebeom laughs, “There aren’t any rules about it in the company, so…”

He smirks against your lips and kisses you, “Yes.”

Another kiss. “It.”

And another. “Is.”

You giggle and pull him back for another passionate kiss. His jacket falls from your shoulders as he pushes you back until you come into contact with the wall. You pull away and look at the jacket on the floor by your feet. Jaebeom pushes you against the wall, his hands starting to caress the bare skin on your waist, “Hey babe, focus on me.”

Jaebeom makes use of his tongue to tease you, licking your lips before kissing you again. “Jaebeom…” you moan against his lips, fingers running through his hair as you wrap your legs around his waist. Jaebeom smirks and caresses your thigh before his tongue dances with yours in a heated performance of moans and raspy breaths. Before you both can take it to another level, you both pull away, breathless. “Your stylist is going to murder us if she sees the lingerie ripped off of you.” Jaebeom teases.

“Shut up, Lim.” you smirk.

“Think you can do it now?” Jaebeom asks as you walk back to the set.

You chuckle, “100% confident.”

[deztinywarriors]

ES Spectre 2.0 Chapter 8-1

[maeleeme]

HER

Chapter 02: Beginning

A/N: Story also crossposted in AO3 & AFF.

| Inner thoughts in Italics |

Staring at the screen, Namjoon languidly nodded in agreement. Standing at approximately 5’6” was a petite woman with a sun kissed face with soft rounded cheeks and a cute button nose. Her wide-set eyes were like pools of dark chocolate, framed by neatly plucked eyebrows shaped into a perfect arch.  Her lips plump, an attractive rose budded colour which were currently smiling at the camera displaying a set of perfect teeth. She was beautiful… just wasn’t his type.

He glanced at the two members and noticed Jimin so concentrated on the woman. That’s a first… Slowly, a cheshire smile appeared on Namjoon’s face.

“I think our Jiminnie has a crush!” he called out teasingly.

Jimin awkwardly coughed and looked away from the television screen, suddenly caught off guard.

“Just saying she was pretty. That’s all hyung…” he said nonchalantly, shrugging his defined shoulders before picking up the remote and moving the channel into the music chart show he originally was meant to watch before he got distracted.

“It’s not like I’ll ever meet her…” he whispered, not realising Namjoon had heard the whole thing.

Namjoon guffawed, not believing what he had just heard. “What was that Jiminnie?!”

“Ah—ah.. nothing hyung! Just saying how I can’t wait when we starting promoting again soon.” Jimin pointedly indicated towards the screen. Now that wasn’t a lie. BTS were hoping to release an album soon which was to become a part of their chronology.

“Ne.. ne—” Namjoon teased — “You nearly sounded like our international ARMY fans when they compare the limited interaction they get in comparison to our Korean ARMY fans.”

Jimin was about to retort back when Jin-hyung called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready guys! Wash up and come to the table while its still hot!”

“Finally!!” Jungkook yelled out eagerly before rushing towards the kitchen.

To avoid further grilling, Jimin immediately followed the maknae to the kitchen where the rest of the members resided, hoping Namjoon-hyung doesn't bring up the subject again.

Minutes before…

Showtime, Mia thought as the car slowly came to a halt in front of the theatre where the premier was being held, neatly stopping in front of the half a mile red carpet specially set out for this special occasion. Outside, the environment was charged with excitement with one side of the venue consisting with crowds of enthusiastic people lining against the barrier while the other side consisted of press junkets all awaiting behind the winding stanchion with their camera; all set up to interview her and her colleagues. Movie posters were scattered throughout the site and plastered against the railing with the sole purpose to promote the film. A long backdrop could also be seen at the end of the carpet where some of her fellow colleagues were already posing in front of forever hungry paparazzi's.

“Mia…” a voice called out, halting Mia’s admiration of the venue before glancing at Haeun-unnie who was sitting right beside her. Having been in the film industry for only four years, it never failed to astound and surprise Mia of how far she had come and the support she has received and continues to receive from her fans. She was truly honoured and blessed.

“You know me... I don’t mean to pry but what’s happened the past couple of months and what’s happened between you and Rob—“

“Unnie! It’s fine... I’m fine.” Mia insisted. “I just don’t want to waste any more minute mulling over that jerk” — she exasperated  — “I’m just glad I found him out before it got any deeper… does that make sense?” Mia asked glancing at her unnie, her eyes also insisting Haeun to not discuss the subject any further. She was in a good place in her life now.

Slowly nodding her head, “As your manager… but firstly your caring unnie—“ Haeun slowly teased — “I want to make sure you're in a right frame of mind. Specially with all of this going on.” she said seriously while nudging her head towards the chaotic site outside.

Mia gently smiled, “I am unnie… I wouldn’t lie to you now.” she said before cutely sticking her tongue out towards her to break the somber vibe. “I know how you love to report everything to Eomeoni in regards to everything about me. I just wished you wouldn’t go into too much detail… I’m 22 for pit sake! Not an irresponsible teen wilding out painting the whole town red!”

Haeun laughed along with Mia. She preferred this Mia. A carefree Mia. As her first cousin, it hurt her when Mia went through such difficult situations. As a close family member, Haeun knew Mia inside out; before the film offers, the fame, before the million dollar contracts. Heck! she had gotten quite acquainted with Mia when she went through her teen angst years. So when Mia was hurt, Haeun was also hurting. She was like the dongsaeng she never had and likewise, Haeun truly wanted only the best thing for her. 
 Besides Mark who was Mia's younger brother, men has traipsed through her life and caused more hurt than necessary. Sadly started by her own father.

“What’s with the long face unnie? We have no time for your melodramatics tonight!” Mia said teasingly. “My crowd awaits for me!” she shouted dramatically before fluttering her eyelashes and framing her petite face with both hands.

“Araso.. araso. Let’s go hotshot!”

"Just saying!”

Security moved towards Mia’s side of the car before prying the door open. Taking a slow deep breath in advance to calm her racing heart, Mia then gracefully got out of the car and smiled towards the excited audience. 
 Wanting to keep it simple, Mia wore a slim fitting nude dress, held by two thin spaghetti straps upfront before crisscrossing behind her nude back while her jet black hair was expertly tousled up with soft curled ringlets framing her face. For jewellery, she kept it minimal with a pair of diamond earrings and a white gold thin bracelet encasing her left wrist; both of which were gifts from her Eomma and dongsaeng. A little piece of them that she could bring along to this type of events; her own good luck charms. 
To the people around her, she simply looked stunning and elegant.  Screams increased in volume at her entrance and she could just about pick up her name being called out by the swarm of people. She glided towards the carpet before stopping midway between the press and the crowd. As per protocol, she faced the blinding cameras first to pose for the paparazzi to promote the film and when it was finally acceptable to move on, Mia turned and greeted the crowd.

“Hey guys! Thanks for coming along and I hope you guys haven’t been waiting for too long…”

“I will wait till the end of time for you!!!” one man shouted enthusiastically, one hand animatedly waving a magazine with her recent photoshoot cover on; with a marker pen in the other.

Grabbing the pen and the magazine altogether, Mia quickly signed her autograph before returning them back to their rightful owner. “Thank you but you’re too kind.” With one last smile she moved down the red carpet greeting her fans and repeating this same process for the next couple of minutes before Haeun-unnie gently touched her forearm and leaned towards her to whisper in her ear.

“You’ve got a quick interview with Tara from Movie Screen Junk.” Haeun said before nodding her head towards one side of the barricade. Nodding her head to show she was aware of the situation, Mia thanked the current person she was speaking to before moving towards the section where the interviews were specifically being held.

“Good to see you again Tara!”

“And you Mia! I also think that congratulations are in order! Looking at this rowdy crowd and according to reviews from the previews, it looks like you have another award winning film bagged.”

“Thank you but I can’t take all the credit! I’ll have to say that our lovely director John Thompson did such an amazing job showcasing the story. All I did was read the script and hope I did a good enough job portraying the character.” Mia jibed jokingly. “But on a serious note, everyone worked extremely hard in order to feature the story and do it justice. Sometimes it can be difficult to transition a books plot line into film and I think John did an exceptional job. It specially helped that we had the author come along to set and worked along with the actors during the filming process. It specially helped me get into the nitty gritty of my character.”

“I think you did more than read the script…”

The interview went on for a couple of minutes before Mia thanked Tara and was directed by the staff to enter the theatre hall in preparation to preview the film. After two hours of watching herself on screen, Mia decided that she wasn’t prepared for the after party and decided to head straight back to her hotel room alongside Haeun who was extremely happy with the films outcome but more than ready to relax. Both knew that they had busy schedules to fulfil for the next couple of months to promote the film so anytime free was golden in their eyes.

Settling herself comfortably in the car for the drive back to the hotel room, she excitedly shouted at Andrew; her driver for the night to play her ‘jams’. Closing her eyes, she contentedly listened.

Soft piano keys started to play in the background before a soothing hum could be heard then a deep voice started to slowly rap. Yes BTS. Hold me tight! Mia smiled dreamily.

[snowkatze]

Eraser

Part three of the OS series about Ed Sheeran’s new album ‘Divide’. Based on the song ‘Erase’, lyrics in italics. Also part of @snowbaz-feda :)

Happier, Save Myself

As night fell over the city, the loner crawled out of his cave. Out of the place he'd been staying that day. Tomorrow it would be another place and then another. Places change so quickly, they don't even matter. People change just as fast. What do they matter? The wanderer was lonely as he roamed through the streets. His violin case was his only friend, the memory his enemy. Yes. He remembered different times. When people cared for more than just his money. When there was still love between one another, fragile desperate love. A raw and sharp and human emotion. But, as he supposed, greed and envy, jealousy and rage, were human emotions too.

What about sadness? Was he still human or merely just ghost of the man he used to be? He remembers when playing was still about fun, about compassion, not about business and lies. Isn't it sad? So sad, that you can only make it big through lying. You think, what a cynical man he is, but maybe he has seen things you haven't seen. Maybe he knows things you'd rather ignore when you're dreaming. Where do dreams go, once you've fround them? They're like illusions that fade away once you reach them. I was born inside a small town, I lost that state of mind Learned to sing inside the Lord's house, but stopped at the age of nine I forget when I get awards now the wave I had to ride The paving stones I played upon, they kept me on the grind The smooth wind wirled around his hair and he walked like he could float away any moment. Like gravity didn't work the same way for him as it did for everyone else. Had he always been like that? Or was it just all he'd gone through that dissociated him from the world? He was someone different now. He used to be a dreamer, now he's delusional. It wasn't easy, to be the man he was. He lived in a world now where hearts are being broken, promises are never held, nothing is as shiny as it seems. The world he used to live in was one where dreams are unreachable and the future is bleak. How could he judge which one was better? He wanted to escape from both of these worlds and create his own one. His world is one of nothingness, where there are no people and no things. Where he is united with the nightsky and his music. Where no place is ever the same. It's a lonely world he chose.

So blame it on the pain that blessed me with the life Friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride And when the world's against me is when I really come alive And everyday that Satan tempts me, I try to take it in my stride

Of course, he loved it. Gosh, he loved it so much. He loved the roaring crowd, the ground vibrating underneath his feet. He loved sharing his music with so many people – connecting with them in an almost magical way. There were people out there who understood who he was better than anyone who had claimed to be his friend. Because they were able to feel his music, in the same way that he felt it. Maybe that's why he would never trade it for anything else. But he also hated it. He hated the way people only cared for his money once he'd become a bit famous. He hated not being able to go anywhere without being harassed. You envy him and say he shoudn't complain. But maybe he envies you whose face in the streets is only recognized by friends, not strangers. At least he had the means to be just another guy. He had the means to be a wanderer. The money was enough to last him for years. After all, he didn't need much. Spending his nights in motels and changing cities ever so often, he was free. Except he wasn't. He had to conceal himself as to not be recognized. He couldn't let anyone close to him. He was a changed man. Loneliness was friend enough for him. He didn't need anone else. At least that's what he told himself. It's what he had to believe to get by. The night was calm and beautiful. In a small alley, he found a spot just perfect for him. This was where he'd settle down for a few hours, to be just a guy with a violin. Because that's who he wanted to be. You know that I've got whisky with white lines and smoke in my lungs I think life has got to the point I know without it's no fun I need to get in the right mind and clear myself up Instead, I look in the mirror questioning what I've become

When he played, his mind went still. It was a sad sweet song, it drove him mad. Isn't it nice not to feel? Isn't it nice not to wear a mask? It isn't it nice not to be at all? The music carried him away and he took off into space. That's another way to touch the stars. And this way Baz was able to forget.

A small crowd gathered around him. They listened to him without knowing who he was. He was just a faceless violin player. The music drew them to him, it worked like magic. He was able to summon people just like that and he drew them in his spell. The pain poured in his music and created something so raw and messy. It sounded strangled but to some it was downright beautiful. His music was telling stories. They weren't nice or happy stories, but they were stories that touched the core of the human's soul. I guess it's a stereotypical day for someone like me Without a nine-to-five job or an uni degree To be caught up in the trappings of the industry Show me the locked doors, I find another use for the key And you'll see

As it got later, the people became fewer and when he finally stopped playing, the crowd shattered until only one person remained. It was a young man with freckled skin and blonde hair. He stared at Baz in awe and Baz tried not to let it be seen how nervous that made him. Simon had been on his way home when he heard the song. The music had captured him immediately and he had no other choice but to follow it – to be led to this guy. He was not like anyone else Simon had ever seen. Black trousers, a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, grey suspenders and a black bowtie. Shiny, posh shoes. Black hair framed his face perfectly. Everything fitted together, like a painting. (A really pretty painting.) His clothes made him look like a movie star – or a vampire. Anyone else would have looked pretentious. This guy just looked cool. Well. Except for the sunglasses. The sunglasses were ridiculous.

Simon stayed and listened to all the songs. There was a funny feeling in his chest. A feeling that made him want to stand there forever. He wished for the music to never end. He had never heard anything so painful. He had a feeling that this guy had been suffering. Maybe he had been betrayed, too. 'That,' Simon said when the guy had finished, 'was absolutely amazing.' He didn't look up. He closed his violin case in silence before turning to Simon. Despite the sunglasses, Simon felt the guy's gaze on him, making him shiver.

'It's not supposed to be amazing,' he said. 'It's supposed to be truthful.' 'Can't it be both?' 'I guess.' Then the guy walked past Simon, pushing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with the hand not holding the case. He seemed to think the conversation was over and walked away. But Simon couldn't let him go. He felt like he had just found something fascinating and precious – he couldn't just let it vanish. So he paced after the guy. 'Are you a vampire?' He stopped walking. 'How?' 'Why else would you wear sunglasses at night?' 'Because I'm Corey Hart? Besides, a vampire would wear sunglasses to protect himself from the sunlight, so it doesn't burn him. Do you see any daylight here?' 'Well no, but- but- you know an awful lot about vampires, don't you?' Simon could practically feel the guy rolling his eyes. 'Come on, I just- I was just thinking...'

Please don't go. The guy hesitated and looked at him for a moment. 'You want to grab a bite somewhere?' Simon smiled at him. 'Sure.'

I'm well aware of certain things that can destroy a man like me But with that said give me one more, higher Another one to take the sting away I am happy on my own, so here I'll stay Save your lovin' arms for a rainy day And I'll find comfort in my pain, eraser 'I think you could become famous with your music if you played somewhere else. You know, like that guy who became super popular through youtube? What's his name again? Pitch?' 'You can call me Baz.' Simon laughed. 'I'm not an idiot. I know you're not Pitch. But okay, Baz. I'm Simon.' And Baz' heart melted a little. Funny. Funny what a smile from someone else can do to you.

'When I was a kid I always dreamed of becoming a popular singer, you know.'

Simon sighed.

'You want some advice?' Baz stomped the cigarette out with his heel. 'Try to look for happiness somewhere else – you won't find it in fame.' 'That's a pretty bitter thing to say.' 'Well, maybe I am bitter. I'm not like you. Maybe my soul is made of darkness and I am pitch after all.'

'Or maybe you're not as tough as you pretend to be.' 'How would you know?' 'Because I'm not as happy as I pretend to be.' 'Why are you talking to me anyways? Just because I'm good at playing the violin doesn't mean I'm pleasant company.' 'I like you.' 'Then maybe you are crazy.' 'I think someone hurt you – and I – I...' 'You think you can heal me, do you?' 'I was hurt, too.' Then he stopped walking and Baz turned to look at him. It was dark but he could still make out Simon's features in the starlight. They were standing in the middle of a bridge over a small river. Simon leaned over the railing. He looked at the trees lining up on the shore. The stars where mirrowed in the surface of the water. 'I wish we could bathe in the stars,' he whispered. Baz was unable to take his eyes off him.

'I feel like we're playing roles in a movie. You look the part, with your weird clothes. You're some sort of gentleman or prince, maybe.' 'You think I look like a prince?' Simon smirked. 'A vampire prince, maybe. You know, if this were a movie, we'd run down the shore now and we'd throw off our clothes and leap into the river. We would be made of magic and there would be pretty sappy music in the backround.' 'Sounds like a really romantic movie.' 'Yeah. It would be.' 'Well, I feel like a character in a movie, too. Or rather, in a horrible soap, that makes terrible jokes all the time and I am one of them.'

'You're not a joke, Baz.' 'You don't know me.' 'I'm starting to.' Simon turned to him and now they were looking at each other. 'If you are a joke, it's only because you're making yourself one.' With that, Simon reached out, so gentle and careful, to grab the sunglasses and he pulled them from Baz' head.

He grasped when he saw the colour of Baz' eyes. They looked like a storm was raging inside of them. Then his gaze fell to Baz' lips and he had an unexplicable urge to kiss them. I used to think that nothing could be better than touring the world with my songs I chased the pictured perfect life, I think they painted it wrong I think that money is the root of evil and fame is hell Relationships and hearts you fixed, they break as well And ain't nobody wanna see you down in the dumps Because you're living your dream, man, this shit should be fun

Baz knew that nothing good wiould ever come from this. He was well aware that he was broken – that he was cracked. When he ran from his old life, he also ran from the man he feared he would become. Someone who cared about all the wrong things. Simon didn't deserve someone like that. What did he talk about deserving? Who had ever said Simon wanted anything from him? To Simon, he was just a way of passing time. As they walked side by side and talked about the universe – not the senseless smalltalk other people used to get to know each other – Baz imagined them being normal people. A couple. Who had a home together where they spent lazy afternoons on the sofa. Maybe they'd have a dog, too, and friends. Real, loyal friends who wouldn't leave in times of trouble.

But he knew that after this day, they would part ways and never see each other again. Baz would never settle down, he would just wander on and never get attached to anyone or anything. That's one way to protect yourself.

Please know that I'm not trying to preach like I'm Reverend Run I beg you, don't be disappointed with the man I've become Our conversations with my father on the A14 Age twelve telling me I've gotta chase those dreams They soon reached a little cavern with dim lighting and ugly furniture.

'Hey look,' Simon said, 'it's karaoke night!' Baz smirked. 'Now it's time for me to prove my awesome singing skills.' Baz could tell that he was only joking. He vanished quickly to announce that he would participate. When his name was called, he got close to Baz ear and whispered: 'Now watch me.' On stage, Simon grinned at Baz as he grabbed the microphone. He stared Baz straight in the eye as the music began to play. Oh no, Baz thought. No, he didn't. Then Simon started to sing: 'I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can, watch you weave, then breathe your story lines.' Are you kidding me? Simon grinned the widest grin and sang on. Baz liked his voice, though he sang badly and often didn't hit the notes. Baz loved it. He took a serviette off a staple and scribbled something on it, before holding it up so Simon would see. 'I hate you.' 'Don't switch the blade,' Simon sang and smiled softly. Baz' heart was aching. Then he leaned back and decided that he was sulking. 'Oh, I say I wear my sunglasses at night, I wear my sunglasses at night...' Finally, the song came to an end. 'This one went out to my new friend,' Simon smiled. 'Because I think this song speaks to him on a personal level.' Then he got off the stage and walked back to sit beside Baz. And Baz wanted to be mad at him so badly but the only thing he was able to think about was that Simon had just called him his friend. Now I'm playing for the people, dad, and they know me With my beat and small guitar wearing the same old jeans Wembley Stadium crowd's two-hundred-and-forty-thou' I may have grown up but I hope that Damien's proud And to the next generation, inspiration's allowed The world may be filled with hate but keep erasing it now Somehow

'You are a terrible singer,' Baz stated. 'And you're a terrible person, too.' 'You loved it,' Simon grinned. 'You're glad I understand you so deeply.' 'Well. Yeah. Maybe. But.' 'But what?' 'I only wear these sunglasses as a disguise.' 'What are people supposed to think you are? An idiot?' 'No. They just aren't supposed to see my face.' 'Your face isn't that terrible.' 'You are unbelievable.' 'And you are a mystery.' 'Would you really choose to be famous if you could?' Simon hesitated. 'I don't think so. You know, these people live in a different world than we do. I don't think I could understand that.' 'You have a low opinion of famous people, don't you?' 'No, I don't. I thought you had a problem with that? What with the, fame doesn't make you happy, and stuff?' You would hate me if you knew who I am, wouldn't you? After a short silence, Simon's face lit up and he exclaimed: 'Come on, Baz, let's have some fun. I'll have you know that my dancing skills are just as amazing as my singing skills. Maybe even better!' As it turned out, Simon was right. Simon was a bad singer and an even worse dancer. And Baz loved it. He loved it so much. As Simon stepped on his feet and kept mumbling apologies, Baz fell for him. (A little.) (Not a little. Full on.) I'm well aware of certain things that will befall a man like me But with that said give me one more, higher Another one to take the sting away Oh, I am happy on my own, so here I'll stay Save your lovin' arms for a rainy day And I'll find comfort in my pain, eraser And I'll find comfort in my pain, eraser And I'll find comfort in my pain, eraser The hours passed and Baz wished the night would never end. When they stepped out of the building, the first sunlight of the day fell over the city. The morning air was fresh and Baz didn't want for Simon to leave. He tried to come up with a plan to make him stay. Nothing came to his mind. He looked at Simon and his messy curls and pretty smile and he thought. Damn. Maybe I don't feel nothing after all. 'Would you hate me?' Baz asked. 'What?' 'Would you hate me if I were the famous YouTuber Pitch?' 'No. I wouldn't.' 'Would you be able to fall in love with me?' 'I think I already am,' Simon whispered. 'What?' 'Falling in love with you.' 'You must be crazy.' 'I think I am.' Baz stepped closer to him. Maybe it was time. Time to stop running away.

Welcome to the new show I guess you know I've been away But where I'm heading, who knows But my heart will stay the same Welcome to the new show I guess you know I've been away But where I'm heading, who knows My pain, eraser

'I know that you're afraid,' Simon whispered, by now close to Baz' mouth. 'Should I be?' 'Maybe. But I think you should be brave.' And then he kissed him on the lips. The touch was soft and Baz' heart fell. 'I'm not going to leave you.' 'Why not?' 'Because we match.'

And I'll find comfort in my pain, eraser 'Let's not run away today. I'm asking you to stay for just today. And tomorrow I'll ask you again. And every day after. Can you do that for me? Just for today?' 'Okay,' Baz whispered back. 'Just for today.' And the pain was still there. But by now Baz knew that there was no way to get rid of it. The pain had carried Baz to Simon Snow. And therefore, he was starting to think, maybe he liked it. He liked the soft aching of his heart. Holding Simon Snow's hand, he felt like it could spring out of his chest and flutter to the stars.

[thesinglesjukebox]

THE 1975 - LOVE IT IF WE MADE IT [4.46] Get out your popcorn, it's time for another controversial One Nine Seven Five single...

Will Adams: What? It's just an ordinary The 1975 s- *reads lyrics* OH MY GOODNESS! [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Matt Healy yelling Hot Takes™ in a wind tunnel as a warmed over INXS track plays is weirdly compelling, but not quite good. [5]

Claire Biddles: If anyone else tried this zeitgeist-quotes lyrical trick (it's barely a trick!) I would hate it, but a) I'm hugely predisposed to The 1975; and b) their inherent miraculousness somehow makes them the exception to every rule. The lyric tries to hold the enormity of the world and so does the music -- each electronic whoosh and whizz is a digital overspill from the heady whole, like even something this maximalist and ambitious isn't quite enough for them. [10]

Iain Mew: The sound is a great expansion of the omnivorous approach of the last album. Taking a beautiful twinkle and one shiny happy phrase and setting upon them with echo, reflections and a lot of noise, its sonic trip represents the overload of modernity in the compelling way that the lyrics resolutely don't. Maybe it's because I've been extremely online since way before The 1975 was a thing, but I'm already familiar with a great stream of context-free sourness and nonsense, and I'd rather not encounter any replications of it. If you're singing "poison me daddy" and "fuck your feelings" as slogans for satire, you're still singing "poison me daddy" and "fuck your feelings" as slogans. It's on a level with someone seeking out the most awful tweets to quote tweet them for clowning purposes, at best. [3]

Alfred Soto: Have these loudmouths gone and interpolated The Blue Nile? Sounds like it. "The Downtown Lights" relied on a steady pulse to put over its lovelorn message; "Love It If We Made It" relies on "The Downtown Lights" to pull a con job on fans born after 1985. I mean, why is this mix so crowded? [5]

Eleanor Graham: The 1975's music has this quality of dancing around your own mind in the stale air of Tory safe-seat mid-late teenhood in an endless cycle of UCAS and grey skies and girls and boys and club toilets with peeling paint. I don't expect anyone to be able to relate to that, but please don't equate my specificity with cosy familiarity. I'm talking about "Robbers" cutting straight to the core of everything that hurts about growing up within its first 30 seconds. Uncomfortable? Oh, god yeah! But when something so closely resembles the inside of your head, it is churlish to deny that you're a fan. All of this goes to say: I am incapable of being objective about "Love It If We Made It." Because it is essentially a dystopian "Robbers," with the same yearning indie thrum and a new urgency; because, well, you know, everything's decaying; because aren't we all thinking about the death of the republic on some level at all times, but don't we also need bangers? Of course, we should be cynical about pop songs that make half-hearted jabs at the administration and reference the deaths of children, which both 1975 singles have now done. In its defence, this one at least makes the statements "I moved on her like a bitch" and "thank you, Kanye, very cool" sound terrifying and surreal enough to remind me that "terrifying" and "surreal" should not have become platitudes. Is it toothless? Is it exploitative? Or will it be read in twenty years simply as addressing the elephant in the room? They've thrown the chorus in there -- raw, open, pleading, trailing off like a comet in the night sky -- to make all of those questions feel inconsequential. [8]

Juan F. Carruyo: A shocker in gloomtown, the song starts with a bang and it never lets up, swallowing everything in its path. The moody production suits the enveloping soundscape and it's worthy of mentioning how the bass plays against the keys in the refrain. By the time the song ends, it feels like this is the soundtrack for the rapture. [8]

Edward Okulicz: I'm massively fond of the 1975, but this is puddle-deep where it's trying to be ~meaningful~ and ~edgy~ and ~zeitgeisty~ and it's a hookless joy after the previous single's buzzy earworm. Big-name artists probably think they've earned the right to release indulgences, but we shouldn't pretend singles like this are anything more. [2]

Will Rivitz: Leave it to The 1975 to build off an earth-shatteringly good teaser single with a follow-up nearly as bad as the first was good. Look, I'm all for politically conscious songwriting, but these lyrics could have been written by any of the interchangeable and smugly ineffective liberal Facebook pages my high school friends repost material from. I can overlook the awful lyricism of "Give Yourself A Try" ("Like context in a modern debate, I just took it out," eurgh) because a) it's only occasional and b) is utterly drowned out by an ecstasy of electric guitars, but here Matty Healy's slacktivist garbage piles are given main billing. One point for the Lil Peep shoutout, one point for the glorious jangles after the second chorus reined in too soon in favor of a bridge that is somehow worse than the verses, and absolutely nothing else. [2]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I have to give credit where credit is due: this is an evil song that utilizes its structure as a means to elevate and justify its conceptual gambit. Matt Healy reads off a list of provocative phrases that act as a simulacrum of the discouraging news headlines, ironic shitposts and self-impressed hot takes that crowd numerous corners of the internet. The pulsating beat and claustrophobic mix amplify that particular dread, and the swirling harp is the only sound that feels unstuck from it all. It hints at a hope that is later projected in the chorus, but it turns out to be nothing more than a red herring. I don't expect Healy to provide answers -- I'd argue that he took the more effective route in providing a moment of release over anything concrete -- but I don't believe him at all when he says he'd "love it if we made it." This is the sort of dude who finds joy in crassly exploiting the tragedy of others for the sake of art, and it finds its roots in how he decided on the band's name. When the chorus finally breaks free from the monotony, his voice has a smugly arrogant tone that snaps everything into place: Healy is eager to be the source of relief for the trigger warning-necessary lyrics that he doled out in the first place. He can only be a savior for the bullshit he pushes on you, and he'll cover it up by touting we instead of I. As a political statement, this has virtually no worth. As a piece of music, the bridge makes exceedingly clear that this is just an edgy "We Didn't Start The Fire." As a depiction of narcissistic manipulation, this is excellent -- perhaps the best of the year. [0]

Vikram Joseph: Even without the viral billboard advertising campaign, "Love It If We Made It" is much larger than life, but offsets its pretensions with self-aware hyperbole and a streak of pitch-black humour. The genuine venom towards a society that permits Donald Trump and "a beach of drowning three year olds" is undercut by an awareness that we're all tied up in this mess -- they can get away with railing against modern existence without sounding aloof or curmudgeonly, because they're so self-evidently part of it, and, to some extent, in love with it too. The chorus is equal parts earnest optimism and grim humour, which just about epitomises their brand. There have been a lot of "We Didn't Start The Fire" comparisons, but it actually makes me think more of a half-speed, tongue-in-cheek "Ignoreland"; The 1975 feel better having screamed, don't you? [8]

Lauren Gilbert: See, I wrote an entire blurb about how this is "New Americana" v. 2018, and then promptly deleted it to write about what it means for modernity to have failed us. Spoiler alert: Modernity has not failed us, but the specific iteration of modernity of which Healy writes is certainly Not Great. Capital M Modernity is more (and less) than drugs and borders and Trump. At the risk of sounding like the pedantic graduate student I am, modernity is characterized by industrialization, market economies, nation states, individuality, and secularism (surely not the "Jesus save us!" Healy mentions). Healy's Modernity-as-characterized-by-this-song is not that. He's writing about the dissatisfactions of a left-leaning person in the Trump/May/dear-god-why-is-Boris-Johnson-still-around era, a modernity grounded in the specific sociocultural norms and events that shaped how certain rich English-speaking countries experienced in 2018. And if we consider that particular experience of modernity as the only possibility we have, it's pretty easy to conclude "modernity has failed us" and write a "We Didn't Start The Fire" of terrible things. And I'll give Healy some credit; "Love It If We Made It" does sound and feel like living in twenty-fucking-eighteen. But modernity the concept does not imply that we must live in our specific instance of modernity; we do not have to accept Trump and income inequality and in-the-future-everyone-will-be-famous-for-fifteen-minutes Modernity. And more than that, that specific (miserable) modernity is not even the only modernity happening right now. Around the world, people are living longer, healthier lives; fewer people live in extreme poverty; there are fewer wars. Healy's Modernity may feel like a prison, where we are trapped forever in endless cars on endless roads to places we don't want to go, but it is not the only game in town. I (and many others) am alive today because of modern(ity) medicine & honestly, I'll take Donald Trump and Brexit and "thank you, Kanye, very cool" as the price of being alive. Perhaps it's too much to ask for a band known for its cynicism to consider a fuller context, and the very real positives in the world we live in, but hey, why give themselves a try? [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[andreafestefano]

Our Christmas staircase!

Hey there! I'm back with another space in our new house and today you get two for one -- it's decorated for Christmas and we are totally in love. ;) Our staircase is one of those things that I could totally see in my head even when the house was just studs:

I loved that it was open to the great room and had a landing like our old stairs. I also prefer to have stairs in the back of the house instead of when you walk in the door -- it's just a personal preference for me. I think both are beautiful but I've always like that. One of the only big upgrades we did in the house were the wood steps and risers. If you remember, we were lucky to have pretty treads under our old stairs, so I ripped up the carpet and finished them myself. That began my love affair with wood steps! We did carpet down to the basement (again like before), but this staircase is such a focal point, I love my contrast. I thought about finishing them myself for a hot minute...and I'm SO glad I didn't decide to do that. Goodness. I would have been pulling my hair out doing that along with moving in and getting unpacked. No thank you!! They stained the steps to match our floors and I still need to ask about the stain color. I have a feeling it's a mix of colors but I'll be sure to update this when I find out. I could have gone with iron spindles but figured basic wood ones would stand the test of time. At first we planned on staining the balusters to match the railing and steps, but then I did some research and found I loved the look of white balusters instead. I'm SO glad I made that change!:

I think all of these choices are classic and will stand the test of time! I knew all along we'd have garlands all over them for the holidays. I used cup hooks underneath the railings to secure the garland from underneath. I've wrapped it around before and I get nervous about not being about to use the handrails. I started to add some ribbon to it as well, but again simplicity called out to me and I ended up just adding some DIY ribbons and a couple bundles of ornaments. Here's the result:

I also had the garland swagging a bit but preferred having it secured right up against the handrail. LOVE IT!!

I always put a little something on the steps and these little lanterns were from IKEA years ago. Not sure if they still carry the red or not:

I was going to fill the other stairs with different lanterns, but again...I'm craving a simpler look in this house. Letting it breathe a little, even with Christmas decor everywhere!

I made those bows and they were super easy! I think I'll share the tutorial with you later this week. I searched for an easy DIY and failed twice before I found this version. So easy: 

I just lay the lights throughout -- I don't even wrap those around. Makes them super easy to remove after the holidays. 

Here's a quick tip for any of you building a house! Think of where you'll need outlets for holiday decor. I'm kicking myself that I didn't add a few strategically placed plugs for lights. We've made it work just fine, but I can't believe I didn't think of that. Try to imagine where you'll need them, like on stairs: 

I added so many outlets, I'm surprised I forgot about that aspect. :) 

I really don't think I could love the stairs more. I just freaking love how open it is:

Here's a before and after for you, Christmas-style!: 

So lovely! I bought the ribbon this year but we had everything else. This is the garland I used to use around our front door. :) 

Hope you enjoyed the "tour" of the stairs! It's hands down one of my favorite parts of the house. I absolutely adore them, especially all dressed up:

Do you dress up your stairs for the holidays? Do you go all out with greenery? I've seen some stunning railings in blogland this year! SaveSaveSaveSave

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[bookgasms-bookboyfriends-blog]

  NUDES: A Hollywood romance standalone from

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  Blurb

Ben Lawson is making a comeback…

After a few tabloid headlines, they think they know me. They don’t know a damn thing.  As CEO of a movie production company, I’ll show them who I really am when we hit it big at the box office. My ex thought her smear tactics would ruin me, but I’m unbreakable. Rising from the debris, I swore I’d never let a woman distract me like that again. But then, my leading actress walked on the set and changed everything.

Seductive, sexy, and unapologetic, Aria Rose could break me. I wanted to help her, protect her…love her. Instead, I destroyed her.

Aria Rose is baring it all….

I knew better.  I knew not to trust another Hollywood heartthrob with a reputation like his. He was my boss and became my ruin. I should have stayed far away from him. Ben Lawson promised me the world.  He even promised me his heart.

  But he destroyed everything–my heart, my career, us.

  Excerpt

  “Aria?” A deep voice cut through the crisp nighttime air.

She turned to see Ben approaching her, the shadows from the upper deck of the yacht moving across his face as he came closer. “Oh. Hi, Mr. Lawson.”

“Please, like I said, call me Ben,” he reiterated, leaning against the railing next to her.

“Right. Ben. Sorry, the last exec wasn’t quite so…”

His lips curved into a smile. “So, what?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, because her honest answer was sexy. That didn’t seem like the best thing to a man who now funded and controlled her film. “Approachable?”

Ben laughed—a deep chuckle that she felt vibrate through her bones. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It definitely is,” she assured him, placing a hand on his arm. The moment she touched him, she pulled back, immediately embarrassed.

He. Is. My. Boss. Get it together, Aria.

He didn’t chide her, or look uncomfortable, which she took as a good sign.

Aria returned to her original position beside him, and they stared out at the darkened water lapping the sides of all the boats docked around.

“Want to hear something funny?” Aria finally broke the silence, but kept her voice low. So low, he had to lean in to hear her.

“Tell me.”

“My parents met in this very marina. She was a caterer and he was a deckhand—still teenagers. Barely old enough to know who they were, let alone what they wanted out of life. Still, they knew what love was when they stumbled upon it, and they knew enough to never let go.” Aria’s heart beat a little faster, warming at the memories.

“Wow. Are they still together?”

Aria nodded. “Barely spent a day apart since. My mother is actually my manager, and she works insanely hard for me, but my father always comes first. He’s the love of her life.”

“Love like that is special. Rare.”

“Is it?” Aria tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure it’s as rare as it is a choice, a commitment, and the strength to follow through each and every day. There were times they could have given up—maybe lived an easier life with someone else—but they made a decision that this was the love they wanted, this was the life they wanted, and in that choice comes a confidence, a happiness, that most people deny themselves.”

Ben was quiet for a minute. Finally, he inhaled loudly, then blew it out in one long breath. “That’s really beautiful, Aria. Hits a bit close to home, I have to admit.”

“I’m sorry.” Aria frowned, turning to face him and just leaving one elbow on the railing. “I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just finished going through a divorce about six months ago, though we’d separated the year before that. I think you’re right—love is a choice. Making love work is a choice. And yet…if it’s not with the right person, then it’s the wrong choice.”

“Soul mates.” Aria raised one brow. “You believe in that?”

Ben stared at her for a moment…a long moment. The kind of moment that made her shift her weight from one leg to the other, her skin heating under his gaze. “Yes. I believe in soul mates.”

She tilted her chin up ever so slightly, going for lightheartedness. “Well, we all have our flaws. You couldn’t be entirely perfect.”

Ben laughed again. “Believing in soul mates is a flaw?”

“Buying what you’re selling is definitely a flaw. You’re a movie producer, so you sell fantasy to the world.”

“I think we can have the fantasy.” His eyes danced, but his smile was gone. “Don’t you want the fantasy?”

Aria turned back to the ocean, looking out at the waves. This was too much, too real, too soon with a man she barely knew. A man who was pretty much her boss. “Who wouldn’t want the fantasy?” she said dismissively. “Some would say I’m already living it.”

“That’s certainly true. Everyone on this yacht, everyone in this city…Hollywood. It’s all a fantasy of some sort.” Something in his tone sounded so…sad? A small ache pulled at her heart, and she felt like they’d opened the door to something different. Something different than studio exec and actress. Something more than strangers who just met today.

Her humanity connected to his, and they were just two people standing on a boat wishing it could float them away from their picture-perfect lives.

“Do you know why I love Scarlet’s Letters?” she said softly, her voice barely above the whistle of the wind around them.

He stepped closer, his elbow pressed against hers on the railing now. “Why?”

“It’s something I can be proud of. A story I’m proud to tell. The strength of a woman in wartime, a French woman saving innocent people during the Holocaust…a woman picking her truth over a man, over love. Have you read the script?”

Ben nodded. “I have. Two years ago, when it was making the rounds. It’s powerful, and from what I’ve seen, you do an amazing job in it.”

“Thank you. When I first saw this script—or rather, read the book it’s based on—I knew I had to play this part. No matter what I had to give up. This was mine.”

She’d never connected to anything more than she had this script. It was empowering, and taught courage in the toughest of circumstances. It was a tiny snapshot of a much larger scale event, showing the decisions and atrocities suffered at such a human, personal level. It was a woman denying her own privilege and luxury to help fellow humans who didn’t have that reach.

“The way you talk about it…I’m jealous,” Ben admitted.

That got Aria’s attention, and she turned to face him. “Jealous? Of what?”

He pushed off the railing, looking up at the stars before settling on her gaze. “Passion. Excitement. Purpose. You know what you want. You know who you are and what your goals are.”

“And you don’t?” He had to be nearly thirty, if not over. Striking and fresh faced, but his features still said experience. Aria was only in her twenties, but at times she felt decades older.

Ben shook his head. “I thought I did. I built a life. Got married. Worked my way up in Maguire Industries. Everything was mapped out. Everything was…easy.”

The ache from earlier was back, the sadness in his voice. Aria placed her hand on his forearm, a comforting gesture. Partly for him, but mostly for her. She needed a physical connection when they were connecting on so much more.

“What happened?” she pried, squeezing his arm ever so slightly.

Ben looked down at her hand, his eyes lingering. He didn’t move or pull away, and when he lifted his head to face her again, there was a need in his eyes that made her insides heat. “The woman I trusted with all my secrets? She sold them to the highest bidder the moment I wasn’t able to be a stepping stone for her career.”

Aria didn’t reply, sensing there was more.

“She used every connection she had to get me blacklisted. Took everything. Now Maguire Industries acquired Shepherd Films, expecting me to fail. Pushing me out.”

“Not many would call being the CEO of a film studio a demotion,” Aria pointed out.

“When you’re used to being the landscaper, it’s hard to become the rose.”

Aria laughed, letting go of his arm. “First, soul mates. Now, roses. You’re a poetic man, Ben Lawson. A true romantic.”

Suddenly, his fingers intertwined with hers, pulling her to him. Pressing her body to his, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. His eyes never left hers, and she watched him wrestle with something…doubt, uncertainty. As if he didn’t know why he’d just hugged her to him, but then need. Pure need darkened his eyes as something deeper pushed the rest away.

Her breath was lost as she concentrated on standing, her knees already threatening to buckle. She’d taken every second of the journey with him, and now she wanted more. Something about the way he smelled ignited every nerve ending in her body. The way he held her, one arm wrapped around her back, was so secure, so comfortable, so protective, so intimately. No one had ever held her like that in her entire life.

She didn’t want him to let go.

He was fire. She wanted to leap into his flames.

“And what are you, Aria Rose?” Ben’s fingers tipped her chin upward, her eyes finding his. “Who are you?”

The words rumbled in his chest, vibrating against him as he spoke. There was a genuineness to it that terrified her, unnerved her, and completely overwhelmed her. Their souls were laid bare and he was asking for more.

A perfect stranger. A moment of truth. An absolute mistake.

She couldn’t do it. Her walls shot up and she let go of him, fear coursing through her. “I’m an actress, Mr. Lawson. Just an actress.”

And just so much more.

  About the Author

  Sarah Robinson is a native of the Washington, DC area and has both her Bachelors and Masters Degrees in clinical and forensic psychology. She is married to a wonderful man who is just as much of an animal rescue enthusiast as she is. Together, they own a zoo of rescues, as well as volunteering and fostering for multiple animal shelters.

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