#i just am wondering how the director cast both of them that way round???

[thisbluespirit]

I'm currently watching the 1971 Sense & Sensibility on YT and having issues that only the approx. 2 other Poldark 1975 fans on here will understand.

I knew Robin Ellis was in it (he and Joanna David being the two main reasons I was so keen to see it). I'd just assumed he was Willoughby - it's 1971, the year he played Essex in Elizabeth R and if you want dashing, handsome but definitely trouble in the early 70s he's yr man.

AND THEN HE TURNED UP AS EDWARD FERRARS.

Who, I asked, curious, could be Willoughby, then?

... and then Clive Francis walked in and my brain exploded.

[sweetestlamb]

Flashlight

Author's note: Wasn't episode 8 just lovely? I just couldn't get this out of my head, they're becoming so dependent on each other. Be still my beating heart. They're reminding me of my MoonMun couple so much and I think that explains my obsession and the amount of fics I've written thus far lol.

Summary: Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"Are you okay now? Is there someone there?" He moves towards the dark alley that she came bolting from looking as frightened as he's ever seen her. He feels his muscles coil ready to protect her by any means possible. But before he can move she's tightening her hold on him, clinging to him now he can feel her warmth all around him like a blanket.

"No! Don't leave me." Hearing that scared plea causes a blurry memory to resurface in his mind, he can almost feel the words swimming in his mind but the memory is foggy and it evaporates as quickly as it formed.

Strange.

"Okay, okay. I'm not going anywhere. Let's go inside." He starts to maneuver her toward her house at first she moves with him but then she stills, letting out a small sound of recollection.

"My phone." She whispers into his chest, they are pressed so closely he can feel her heartbeat still pounding through her chest into his. He strokes her back in a lazy soothing manner, shocked when she melts into his embrace further. Nothing is making sense at this moment but he doesn't care enough to stop, this.

"What about your phone?" He redirects the conversation and she continues, "I dropped it in there when I ran away."

"Okay. I'll go get it, wait here." He starts to gently untangle her hands from his flannel but she lets out a whine, gripping his shirt even stronger and moving with him.

"I'll---let's go together."

She's trembling now, positively shaking in her spot and he wants to argue with her to just go inside and wait for him but her earlier plea echoes in his ears. He can't leave her alone not right now, so he steps forward feeling her move with him, one step after another until he sees the rectangular object on the ground.

"I'm going to bend down to get it." He can feel her shifting beside him looking around wildly but thankfully no ominous figure appears, they are alone.

After a moment she nods, letting go enough for him to bend and retrieve the device and he checks the screen noting happily that it's not damaged but when he touches the screen it doesn't turn on so he tries again.

"It's dead. I forgot to charge it." She admits, taking the phone from his grasp.

He turns to her with a sharp stare, "You stayed out late after what happened and didn't charge your phone? Are you that fearless?" He chides, frustrated with her lack of awareness and disregard for her safety. If anything ever happened to her he would.... He would.......

"It wasn't on purpose. I didn't realize. I know it was irresponsible."

It's not a response he's expecting, the Hye Jin he knows would argue back, hardly taking shit from him ergo her meek uncharacteristic reply makes him feel worst, he shouldn't be blaming her especially after seeing first-hand how scared she is.

"Let's go inside now, it's cold and you're shaking." They both know the temperature has very little to do with her tremors but she doesn't disagree and carelessly he enters the code when they reach the door, ignoring the jolt in his chest that erupts as he enters his own birthday and the door clicks open. He thought she would have changed it by now.

He's grateful she hasn't.

They both take off their shoes, standing side by side now her arm around his waist and his around her shoulder. It's a small space and they can barely move but they work around it, reluctant to release each other.

"Thank you." Her voice is barely above a whisper, he thinks that he almost imagined it. He had an excuse prepared this time, he was merely patrolling and happened to pass her house. That was the lie he intended to go with, but something in her voice stops him from saying those deceitful words. He's tired of hiding and making up excuses for being around her.

"You're welcome. Here sit down, I'll make you some tea." Thoughtlessly he moves towards the kitchen, taking two steps until he can't move anymore. She's holding onto him tightly, he turns around looking at her small closed fists and then her trembling pretty face.

With a soft sigh, he takes her hand rubbing a thumb across the smooth skin.

"Just come with me." Immediately she steps forward pressing into his back, he tries to calm his heart taking the teapot and filling it with water, then he opens the cabinet retrieving a mug and setting it aside.

"I like honey. And a squeeze of lemon." He smiles at her soft demands.

Now that sounds more like his dentist. The bottle of honey is in her top cabinet and he grabs a fresh lemon from the fridge cutting it in half.

They stand silently as the water boils and he finally feels his anger boiling away as well. Angry that he was almost too late and that his town isn't safe anymore, angry that someone was able to shake this immoveable woman.

The shrill ringing of the teapot breaks him from his impasse, on autopilot he pours the water on the tea bag, then squeezes the honey in the steaming water, "I like a lot of honey." She's attached to his back her voice vibrating straight through him, he freezes when she wraps her arms around his waist. Her closeness is messing with his mind, but he tries to finish his job and get them on the couch maybe with some distance between them.

For his sanity.

"Let's go sit down." He grabs both mugs walking over to her couch, placing her cup on the far right and taking a seat on the far left putting a sea of distance between them. But immediately she sits down right next to him, leaving no space between them she might as well be in his lap. He squirms in place, standing up to get some reprieve but she grabs his hand staring up at him.

"Where are you going?" Fear bleeds into her voice and he lets go of his hesitations, tonight is not about him.

Leaning over he grabs her cup, tugging it closer.

"Nowhere, I'm not going anywhere. Drink your tea."

She blinks slowly at him before nodding and bringing the warm beverage to her lips. Her hum of satisfaction warms him all the way down to his toes.

"It's good. You really are good at everything." He preens at the compliment, thinking of all the times this week he wasn't needed or was cast aside for Director Ji. He's been swallowing his jealousy all week. So her words fill a hollow space in his chest.

He watches her drink the entire cup, ignoring his own growing cold on the table.

"I need to charge my phone." She suddenly says and he stares before nodding, taking the opportunity to drink his lukewarm tea. But then he notices that she's not moving despite having the phone and charging in her hand.

"What's wrong?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

She looks embarrassed now, unable to meet his eyes and he's flabbergasted at her reaction.

"Come with me?" He stares at her, feeling the same pride bloom as when she sat next to him instead of her sunbae, she's leaning on him.

He spots an outlet across the room, "Okay let's go there." She looks relieved at his lack of teasing, together they walk over to the outlet and she bends to plug in the charger and puts the phone on the ground.

In seconds the phone comes to life and he feels a sharp pain in his chest as a barrage of messages light up her phone, the majority from one person. When she clicks to open the message he instinctively looks away, not wanting to witness their conversation.

"He messaged so much." Her voice is filled with awe and childishly he moves away. He'd almost forgotten that she didn't actually need him. He was just conveniently there.

"I should go now. You're safe. Make sure to come home earlier from now on, maybe ask him to walk you home." It hurts to utter those words but it's easier than being replaced later, it's okay if he's the one that pushes her away first. "I'll see myself out."

He stands ready to leave, pointedly not looking back before he changes his mind and stays forever.

She was just scared, tonight didn't mean anything.

He grabs his fallen bagpack thrusting it on his shoulder, hopping into his boots all ready to head out. But it's unusually quiet, the silence is so deafening that he can't stop himself from looking back over at her. It's a mistake, a huge one at that. The phone has fallen from her hands, abandoned to the side and she's looking at him with the most desolate stare he's ever seen, moisture pooling in her huge round eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you cry--"

"You said you wouldn't leave me. Why are you changing your mind? What if someone is still there? What am I supposed to do without yo--u?" Her voice cracks on the last word and his heart follows, she needs him. Nobody else has this week but here she is breaking down because he tried to leave, she needs him.

His decision is made for him in that moment.

As soon as he's close enough to touch she's clinging to him once again, he only absently realizes that she's trying to lead them to her bedroom but even he's not saintly enough for that so he stops her.

"Let's go to the couch. You'll feel more comfortable."

She doesn't question him seemingly happy to follow his lead.

The couch is comfy but definitely not intended for two grown adults, leaning over the arm rest he tries to get situated and once he stops moving she's snuggling into his side curling around him like a cat.

"Whenever I was scared, my mom used to stroke my hair."

He stares at the wall in front of them, wondering if she's aware of just how many lines they're crossing tonight- no catapulting over. But he's tired of second guessing himself so he stops thinking and just listens, bringing the hand that is curled on her shoulder up to her head before dragging his palm down her soft hair, gulping when she moans at the ministrations.

Her breathing starts to deepen and he feels her body losing its tension, she's falling asleep and once she succumbs he can finally make his escape, that's his plan. But he doesn't expect her to start stroking him too, her hand delicate on his chest.

"You've worked hard. Stopping a scammer and saving me all while recovering from a cold."

It's nothing. It's what he's supposed to do.

But it feels so good to hear those words, words that he hardly heard growing up.

"Go to sleep." He says instead of thank you, instead of kissing her like he's wanted to since he saw her outside and she ran straight into his heart.

It's a miracle but she listens to him, drifting to sleep her head heavy on his chest and he knows that he should wait a few minutes and try to extract himself but he can't, not tonight. Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"You're making me want all sorts of things." He whispers to her sleeping face, terrified of her and all that she makes him feel. Feeling emboldened by their almost kiss initiated by her, he pushes her hair behind her ear taking a second to really looking at her face. She really is that beautiful. It doesn't seem fair. Leaning down he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, her skin is sleep warm and perfectly smooth. He presses a second one shamelessly. Her lips are right there and heavens knows that he's tempted but he can't take advantage, can't bring himself to do anything else. That's enough.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep but he wakes up to Mi-seon throwing a blanket over them, he keeps his eyes tightly shut mentally berating himself for that leaving when he had a chance.

"Just friends my ass. Just admit that you like him, look at the way you're clinging to him."

Somehow they traversed further down the couch in their sleep, both laying horizontal now with her body on top on his and her head tucked under his chin.

"I've never seen her sleep so peacefully though. She looks so young."

He tries not to think too deeply into what that might mean, listening to the retreating footsteps of her roommate and feeling himself losing the battle with sleep. She'll probably be embarrassed to find them this way tomorrow but that's a hurdle for another day.

Just for tonight I'll hold her. Until I'm not allowed to hold her anymore.

[solarwonux]

8. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

25.  “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see.” “So?”

marketing director!mingyu x f!reader

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: a little bitt of angst, a little bit of fluff, suggestive themes like voyeurism briefly mentioned

note: ngl, I’m sorry not my best work but I TRIED. Let me know your thoughts it would really help me out a lot. Thank you for reading.xx

masterlist || prompt list

Kim Mingyu - Marketing Director

The nameplate on the door sends a shiver up your spine, knowing that the man you had accidentally pulled in for a drunk kiss the night before during the weekly company bonding dinner, was sitting just behind the door. He was pissed, had pushed you away, made a big deal in wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. Causing you to sober up quickly and regretting it.

It’s no secret that God had taken his sweet time when creating Kim Mingyu Marketing Director of GoSe Enterprises. He put all the Greek Gods you spent your free time reading about to shame. You’ve been crushing on him since he sat in the cubicle next to yours for years. The two of you had developed a nice easy-going friendship. He was sweet, funny, and always offered amazing advice, both on personal and professional matters. You were practically head over heals for him.

Then the promotion came, granting Mingyu with an office on the southside of the company building. Huge windows overlooking the city below, and the office. A nice fancy gold nameplate with his new job description underneath it. Naturally, the two of you grew apart, ripped from one another without a warning. He was no longer rooting for you and your ideas. Instead, he was the one turning down all your project proposals. He was the one assigning you the revision tasks he knew you hated doing. He was the reason for the random spikes of anxiety throughout the workday. He was no longer your friend, he was your supervisor. His soft demeanor and fleeting touches were nowhere to be found. Lost amongst piles of paperwork surrounding his desk. 

You took a deep breath holding your laptop close against your chest, eyeing the nameplate on the large dark wooden door that took your Mingyu away from you a year ago. You were nervous. He only ever called you down to his office if you had a proposal revision due, which this time you didn’t. 

The last idea you had pitched two weeks ago was turned down before you could finish your sentence during your first PowerPoint slide. He didn’t even give you the chance to improve it, simply said, “trash it, it’s not worth wasting your time when it’s not a plausible option.” So, the only other option left and the one that made sense was your slip-up the night before. He had called you down to ask for your resignation letter for breaking company policy. 

“If you keep staring at the door it won’t magically open,” Chan spoke next to you making you jump. “I’m just saying.” He shrugged sheepishly and opened the door, walking in with confidence. “Mingyu I have the copies you asked for.” 

You filed in after him, situating yourself close to the wall and by the door, while Mingyu instructed Chan on where to set down the copies. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, watching as the two of them laughed about some inside joke they had. The anger along with jealousy boiled with fever deep within you. 

This was the problem. Mingyu had only changed when it came to you. With everyone else he was the same Mingyu you once had the pleasure of knowing, and that not only confused you but it made you angry. “Are we still on for guys' night this friday?” Chan asked the older male pointing finger guns at him. 

“Yes, of course, drinks are on Seungcheol this time, which makes my wallet really happy.” Mingyu clapped Chan on the back and led him towards his office door. “Same bar with the cute bartender?” He emphasized, his angry gaze falling on you for a second. 

Subtle you silently scoffed rolling your eyes, holding your laptop as close to your body as humanly possible.If he didn’t make his distaste towards you obvious by his reaction last night, he surely made it painfully clear just now. 

“That’s the one.” Chan nodded, sending you a pitying look, one you didn’t need. You knew you were fucked. 

Everyone knew about your painful crush on Mingyu. Everyone had seen you grab the collar of his dark maroon shirt last night and plant a wet alcohol filled kiss against his lips. Everyone had seen the way he reacted, yanking his suit jacket off the back of his chair and walking out of the bar pissed. So, you didn’t need the various pitying looks you were getting since the moment you walked in that morning.

“Alright then I’ll see you then, don’t forget to turn in your proposal by tomorrow night, Jeonghan keeps bugging me about it.” 

Chan sighed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “shit, I’ll have it done by tomorrow morning.” He said quickly before speed walking back to his cubicle. Leaving you alone to face the problem you had caused. 

Mingyu laughed lightly, shaking his head as he shut the door to his office, “I knew he forgot.” He mumbled before straightening his back, the scowl you were used to seeing appeared on his face once again. He walked past you to his desk, taking a seat next to his name plate. You stayed put, looking down at the floor, only counting the tiny dust bunnies that were visible to your eye. 

Mingyu cleared his throat, “We need to talk about what happened last night.” 

You raised your head pushing yourself off the wall and walked to him. Stopping behind one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Don’t need to, It’s my fault for breaking company policy. I’ll hand in my resignation letter to Jeonghan tonight.” You kept your eyes trained on the skyscraper reflecting through the window behind him. Anything was better than looking at him right now. 

He sighed, running a frustrated hand across his face. He pushed himself away from his desk and took a step forward. “I didn’t call you in here to ask you to resign.” 

Confused, you tore your eyes from the building behind him and looked at him. The bags under his eyes that had started to form from lack of sleep and overwork were now more prominent than before. It made you wonder if he hadn’t slept last night because of you, but then you remembered the huge project he was currently working on, so you casted that thought aside.

“Oh then...I-umm, why am I here?” 

“Do you have any idea the position you put me in last night?” He furrowed his brows, placing a knee down on the chair in front of him. He leaned his forearms against the back of it, closing the distance you purposely kept between the two of you. 

You took a step back, scrunching your nose, “I don’t understand. You don’t want me to resign. If I’m not getting penalized then why am I here?” You dropped your arms in defeat. “If you called me in here to tell me you’re not interested in me, you don’t have to. I already know.” You finished swallowing the lump that had formed at the back of your throat. 

“That’s the problem.” Mingyu pointed an accusing finger at you before retreating it. “I am interested in you, more than interested in you. I have strong feelings for you and I can’t act on them because I don’t want everyone to think that I favor you, because I do.” 

I’m dreaming, you thought pressing the palm of your hand against your heated forehead. You had to be dreaming, life has never been this giving to you, “wait I’m confused...you ran out last night, literally pushed me away, disgusted. Do you have any idea how that felt? I had to sit down and face our co-workers with a fake smile on my face because I didn’t want them to see me cry.” 

Mingyu’s face softened, he gripped the back of the chair hard enough for his knuckles to almost turn white. “I know and I’m sorry but if I had stayed then I would’ve kept kissing you. You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do that.” He dropped his head releasing a shuddering breath. “Every time we stayed here working over time, the only thing I could think about was how easy it’d be if I just leaned over a little more and kissed you. No one would be around, no one would see, it would just be our little secret. But the stupid company policy always seemed to find it’s way into my head and I never let myself cross that boundary.”

“Mingyu w-why are you telling me this now? Even if we have feelings for one another, my job is important to me and I don’t want to risk getting fired because we’re together.” You blinked rapidly, now was not the time to cry. You could cry later in the communal bathroom across the hall, or on the bus ride home, just anywhere but here. 

“Well,” Mingyu rounded the corner of the chairs and made his way to you, finally closing the distance. “I talked to Jeonghan -”

“Wait you told him we kissed?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of their sockets as the realization hit you. Of course, Mingyu wasn’t going to fire you, he was saving himself the burden and having Jeonghan do it for him. 

He chuckled, placing a hand against your hip making you jump, “Just how drunk were you last night? Jeonghan was there when it happened. He called me and threatened to fire me for leaving you the way I did.” He whispered, circling his arm around you and pulling you close, making you stumble from the sudden impact. “H’said, fuck company policy and that I was stupid for following it when no one does.” 

“Wait are you saying th -” 

“Yes we can be together as long as we keep our work and personal lives separate, so, no sex in my office.” 

You gasped hitting his chest lightly, this lewd side of Mingyu was one you had never seen before. Or at least you had but in a much more subtle way. “Well of course, we can’t do that. That was never going to be part of the deal.” The thought of him pressing you against his desk after hours sent a thrilling shiver up your spine. You bit your lip, shaking your head. No, not allowed, focus. 

“Why not? I’ve slept on the couch here a few times. It's pretty comfortable.” He reassured, hooking his thumb in the belt loops of your dark slacks. “And your ass looks so good in these pants, I literally have to make it my mission to not stare.” 

“I’m flattered, I guess. But look around Gyu.” His gaze followed your hand as you waved it around in front of him. “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see -” 

He pulled you closer, eloping your body in both of his arms, “so?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing against his lips. You had forgotten how much he liked to tease you. 

“So?” You rolled your eyes, “were you not listening to what I was saying everyone can see.” You emphasized, poking his cheek with your index finger. 

Mingyu bit his bottom lip trying to suppress his laughter. He forgot how easily flustered you could get, especially when he would say something out of pocket to you. Sure, half of the time you would ignore him, sometimes you would simply roll your eyes, focused on whatever you were working on. Other times he would leave you at a loss for words.

“Frankly, I don’t see the problem. We can just wait until everyone goes home and then give whoever is walking by a free show.” He finished raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. 

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away and walked to his door. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about having sex with me and you haven’t even asked me out on a date or to be your girlfriend.” You pushed his door open and walked out, “the audacity you have Kim Mingyu.” 

He felt panic surge through him, his big mouth getting the best of him once again. “Woah woah wait I was getting there, you didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He followed you out the door, trying to keep up with your hasty steps. Who knew you could walk so fast in heels. 

Once you were at your cubicle you sat down, placing your laptop on top of your desk, waking it up. “Too late, company policy says we have to keep our work and personal lives separate, guess you’re going to have to wait a while.” You look at the digital clock on your desk, “Five and a half hours to be exact.” 

Mingyu threw his head back, frustrated. As much as he enjoyed teasing you, he had forgotten that you were equally as evil if not worse. He had waited to ask you out for more than two years and now that he could, he literally couldn’t wait five and a half hours.

“Friday, after work?” He whispered, covering the side of his mouth with his hand to make it look less suspicious. It wasn’t working.

“What about guys night and that cute bartender?” You smirked, clicking around your computer opening the files you were working on earlier. 

Mingyu took a deep breath and grabbed the back of your chair, swinging it around ripping you away from your computer screen. “Fuck guys night honey, I’m taking you home, cooking you the best meal you’ve ever had and then -” He stopped peaking over your cubicle. Everyone that had tuned in to your debacle, quickly scrambled to focus on whatever they were doing before you and Mingyu walked in. He nodded once before leaning down, his lips close to your ear, whispering, “then I’m going to fuck you against my window so everyone can see that you’re finally mine.” 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning.You put your hand on his chest and leaned in, placing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. “Kinky, ask me again in five and a half hours.” You gave his cheek a gentle pat before pushing him away, returning your attention to what you were doing. 

Mingyu grumbled, shoulders slumped as he dragged himself back to his office. You stifled a laugh, the butterflies you had once felt for him returning. 

“You know I heard all of that.” Soonyoung spoke, peeking his head into your cubicle, his eyes wide like he had just seen a ghost, or something utterly disgusting.

Fuck! Mingyu! You whined silently before turning to face your cubicle mate. “I’ll buy you lunch if you pretend like you didn’t hear anything.” 

He put a pensive hand on his chin before sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Deal, I suddenly have been overcome with amnesia, whatever happened in the last five minutes I do not remember, that’s only if you promise to also finish revising this project proposal for me.” He waved the large packet of white copy paper in front of you. 

You groaned, “that wasn’t part of the deal we just shook on.” 

He sucked in air, “I don’t remember that.” He pouted. “I have amnesia, remember.” 

“Fuck fine.”

[show-choir-gal]

How You Two Meet - Dead Poets Society Preference

Masterlist of Masterlists

Guide: Y/N: Your Name Y/F/N: Your First Name Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Warnings: Mentions of death in Gerard's

Neil Perry: You met when you both auditioned for a play at a community theatre Audition day has arrived, but Neil was more nervous than ever. The boys accompanied him into the theatre just in case something were to go wrong. Neil was reading over the audition lines, which come from Romeo and Juliet. The boys were really hyping Neil up in the back of the theatre until an older man came up on stage and got everyone's attention. "Attention everyone. Thank you for coming out for the auditions for Antony and Cleopatra. I truly believe we will have a wonderful cast for such a great Shakespearean tragedy. Ladies, please hand my assistant your paperwork and line up for your audition. You will perform your monologue onstage by yourself and then you will exit and take a seat. We will have a brief break and then begin with the men. Break a leg." He said as he exited the stage and sat in his seat next to the assistant he mentioned previously. One after the other, girls performed their monologues and the boys gawked. But then you got onstage and the group of boys just stopped dead in their tracks. "Hello, I am Y/F/N Y/L/N and I will be auditioning for Cleopatra." You performed your monologue of Juliet II ii 85 with all the passion and strive you could muster. Once you finished you had a standing ovation. You bowed and sat next to a girl you befriended at the audition. The girl auditions finished up and you all went on a brief break so the boys could prepare. "Neil, if you don't go after her, I will" Charlie said cheekily as he elbowed his friend. "That was the most beautiful and talented girl I have ever seen." Neil said as he looked in your direction across the room. It was soon the boys turn and one by one they went across the stage and performed, and then appeared Neil. "I'm Neil Perry and I will be auditioning for Antony." He performed his heart out, reciting Romeo III iii 33. He sat down right behind you. When all the auditions were officially over, the director came on the stage once more, "Brava ladies and gentlemen. Those were some amazing auditions and my assistant and I will have a hard time deciding the roles. This can take up to an hour so just be prepared. You were all amazing but remember that we have to make decisions. See you all in an hour or so."Just as the director and assistant left to deliberate on the casting, Neil turned towards his group of friends who were all enthusiastically giving him 'thumbs ups'. Neil smiled and turned back around. Suddenly you turned to the boy behind you. "Neil, is it?" "Uh, yeah I'm Neil. And you're Y/F/N, right?" "Yup! I wanted to let you know you were amazing up there! I was really invested. You have a promising career as an actor, I can't wait to work with you." You said with a smile as you turned back to the girl next to you and started chatting up a storm. Neil's heart melted at the thought of just simply being around you.

Todd Anderson: You were chilling in Mr.Keating's classroom because he's your dad You were sitting in a desk in the middle of your dads classroom, discussing some novels and plays before his students showed up for the class. You and your dad were discussing the interesting aspects tagged along with Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" when you were suddenly interrupted by a few boys entering the room. "Don't mind them, they like to come early." Your dad said as he waved the boys into the classroom with a smile. "How was Death of A Salesman, Mr.Keating?" Neil asked, knowing he went to see the play over the weekend. "Oh magnificent Mr.Perry. I do wish I could've brought you boys with me but I had some great company with me either way." Your dad as he shot you a smile. "Oh did you bring a lady friend with you?" Knox asked but as soon as those rolled off his tongue you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "We keep forgetting about this doll in Todd's seat. Who are you darling?" Charlie asked as he looked from Todd to you and winked. Your dad chimed in before you could get a word in, "That is Y/N. She's my daughter. We actually saw the show together." Charlie blushed and leaned back in his seat, trying and failing to make himself seem smaller. "Sweetheart, I know you had some rather bold opinions of the play. Also you can sit in the front so poor Mr.Anderson can sit down." Your dad said as he motioned to a desk near his desk. You looked back at Todd who was staring, he turned and blushed as your rose from the seat you were just occupying. "I am so sorry Todd." You replied as you got up and moved seats. Todd quickly sat down but started to stare again as you began to explain how you felt about the play you had seen with your father.

Charlie Dalton: Select girls are allowed to attend Welton, and you were chosen and played in the schools orchestra Welton was known for only letting in some of the best, and when they were letting up to 10 girls into the school for the very first time, your parents did not hesitate to make sure you got one of those spots. Top of your class, president and captain of several clubs and teams, and first chair in the saxophone section with several professional orchestras vying for your skill made Mr.Nolan not even hesitate to welcome you to the school. You walked into your first class of the day. which was English, with your bag on your back and your saxophone case in your hand. You walked in and everyone turned around and stared at you in awe. "Miss Y/L/N, I was wondering when you would be joining us! You can take the empty seat next to Mr.Dalton and tell us a little about yourself." Mr.Keating said with a smile as you made your way to the empty seat. "I'm Y/N, I transferred from a boarding school about an hour away from here. I am top of my class and I play first chair saxophone." "That's brilliant! I love seeing a bright, young mind in my presence. I see you have your instrument with you, would you liked to play something for us?" "Uhm, yeah I would love to." You replied with a smile as you took out your saxophone and assembled it and tuned it. "This is Flight of the Bumblebee, one of the most difficult songs to play on any instrument." "Do you need someone to hold your music?" Charlie asked, rather enthusiastically. "No thank you, I actually have the piece memorised." Charlie looked sad but immediately perked up when you started to play. You were so engrossed by playing you you didn't notice Charlie making heart eyes and melting as he stared at the beauty in front of him.

Steven Meeks: You're staying your uncle Keating at Welton for the year as a foreign exchange student You and Keating just finished the meeting with Mr.Nolan about the terms and conditions about your stay. It was early in the morning and Keating offered to make you a cup of tea before classes were supposed to start, you agreed and stayed in Keating's classroom. It was supposed to be about another 45 minutes before classes began, so you popped a Beatles album into the record player and was just sitting at Keating's desk and absorbed the atmosphere of an American classroom. You were reading "Catcher in the Rye" as you waited for you uncle to come back to the classroom. You heard some robust laughter come closer to the room and you recognised it as your uncles but there were other voices you didn't recognise. You looked up from the book as soon as the laughter was in the classroom. Your uncle entered with two students by his side, he gave you your cup of tea and looked at the boys. "Mr.Pitts and Mr.Meeks, this is my niece Y/F/N. She's an exchange student from England this year. Can you boys help her around during the day so she doesn't get too lost?" Keating asked with a smile. Both boys were starstruck by the girl in front of them, but Steven was falling in love by the moment. Gerard snapped out of the fit first and elbowed Steven to get his attention back to the real world. "Of course I can Mr.Keating." Steven stumbled out, Gerard just facepalmed as you looked at your uncle and both of you chuckled. Steven finally noticed the music playing, and he may not listen to music all that often but he didn't recognise. "I really like this song, who sings it?" Steven asked shyly. Your eyes went wide open and your mouth went agape, "Do they not have The Beatles here in the States?! Let me show you them, they're AMAZING!" You grabbed Steven's hand and led him over to the record player. Keating looked at you two and back at Gerard with a smile, knowing that look better than any poet he's ever researched.

Richard Cameron: You two competed against one another several times during debate competitions First debate competition of the year was in a few hours. The two teams were in the respective classrooms preparing for the competition ahead. You had to go use the restroom so you excused yourself and walked over to where the restroom was located. You bumped into someone as you rounded the corner. "I am so sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you okay?" The boy asked. "Yeah I'm perfectly fine, just got a little spooked." You replied with a smile as you made eye contact with the boy in front of you, you blushed. He stuck his hand out with a smile, "Richard Cameron, Welton Academy." You returned the smile and took his hand, "Y/F/N Y/L/N, Hamilton Academy. I look forward to seeing you on the debate court." You shook his hand as you winked and walked toward the bathroom.

Knox Overstreet: You tutor his sister back at home Knox was coming home today, his parents told you that before they left to pick him up and bring him home. You were tutoring his younger sister in English and geography. She wasn't bad by any means, but her parents always believed she could do better. You never pushed her too far because she would always reiterate that she is doing the very best she can. You knew how it was to be pushed passed your breaking point and you would never want to do that to a student you tutor. You two took a break and the front door flung open and the sound of teenage boy filled the hallway. He immediately went upstairs and put his stuff away as his parents came into the kitchen to ask how their daughter was doing. In the middle of the conversation Knox came into the kitchen as well. He immediately stopped in his tracks as he made eye contact with you, you blushed as soon as he smiled. "My my, Knox Overstreet, I hadn't seen you since you started attending Welton. You look dashing if I may say so, growing into a fine young man." You said with a smile. "Wow Y/F/N, you look beautiful yourself. Going to be an amazing woman one day." He said as blushed back at you. "Maybe, Y/N, if you're not too busy you could tutor Knox as well. Make sure he doesn't lose his muster during break." His father chimed in. His sister came in unexpectedly and said, "I think he just needs a tutor in general, I'm pretty sure I'm smarter than him." This earned a chuckle from everyone and a blush from Knox and you shot an empathetic glance his way

Gerard Pitts: You met when you were forced to attend Welton by your father, Mr.Nolan, because your grades were slipping "You are attending Welton and that is final, young lady." Your father practically spat at you. You got up in a huff as he escorted you to your English class. "Mr.Nolan, what brings you in here for today?" Mr.Keating asked with his usual smile. He practically shoved you into the classroom, "This is my daughter Y/N. She's going to be attending here because her grades slipped too low for my standards elsewhere. Don't go easy on her." Mr.Keating shot you an empathetic glance, "You may sit next to Mr.Pitts. And rest assured Mr.Nolan, I will help whip her into shape in no time." Mr.Keating motioned to the empty chair with a smile. You walked to the empty seat and sat down. Gerard could not take his eyes off you. Mr.Keating had everyone work on a poem as he came over to your desk to ask you if everything was alright. Gerard was tuning in. "I don't know anymore My mum didn't even want me to come here. I got one C because my friend passed away and suddenly it's the end of the world for my father. You'd think he would care a little more since I'm his only child, you know?" You ranted, letting a single tear roll down your face. Gerard immediately noticed and got a tissue and gave it to you. "Thank you that was really sweet." You said with a shy smile. "Well, I can't let a pretty girl cry when I'm around." He said with a smile filled with empathy.

[svnflowervol666]

I Want Your Belly (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Oddly specific, kinda weird, sappy sweet. Got a good handful of asks for this one so here you go! Harry asks Y/N to join him in the Watermelon Sugar music video. It was a bit hard to write due to the nature of the scenario, but I hope you find it just as cute as I did. Take care and TPWK.

Even in January, the California heat is brutal and unforgiving. Sure, being by the ocean where the momentum of the cool waves cast a light breeze does something to midigate the miserable feeling of feeling like the sun’s rays are going to burn you alive, but it’s only a crumb of salvation really. We’re talking sweat running down the backs of your kneecaps, legs painfully sticking to the seat of whatever chair you’re sitting in, not enough water in the world to keep you from being dehydrated hot. But she wanted to be there.

She’d been oggling him from her sand chair for the past forty-five minutes. I mean, who isn’t oggling him when they see him tracing his fingers coyly over the flesh of a sweet, ripe watermelon. He’d been glancing in her direction in between nearly every take, smirking at her through his aqua-tinted sunnies and wondering if what she was seeing made her reconsider the offer he’d been begging her to take him up on for weeks. All she would give him back was her iconic side-eye before she’d go back to reading the novel in her lap and occasionally picking at the bowl of freshly-cut fruit she’d swiped from the prop table.

“And that’s a wrap on scene one!” one of the directors called out over the crashing waves.

Harry did what was proper - shaking hands and bowing heads and saying his ‘thank you’s before all but jogging over to where she was sat underneath the oversized pale-blue gingham printed umbrella.

“Change yeh mind yet?”

He had his hands on his hips, fingers resting on hem of the crochet-knit tank top he’d chosen himself for the occasion. She waited until she finished the page she was on before even daring to peer up at him through her sunglasses.

“How are you not dying in those pants?” was all that Y/N gave in response before going back to her book.

“‘M absolutely wretched down there if that’s what you’re askin. But yeh didn’t answer my question, lovie.”

She sighed heavily, dog-earring her place in her novel and casting it aside it in the sand before leaning up to rest her elbows on her knees.

“I just don’t know why you want me to be in it so badly. This is your video. If I’m in it, everyone’s gonna go crazy and it’ll be an even bigger shit show in the press than it’s already going to be.”

This made Harry crouch down to her level, his white loafers digging even deeper into the sand as he leaned on his haunches.

“That’s exactly why I want yeh t’ be in it. ‘S my video and that’s what I want. Want this t’ be fun and it would be even more fun if I had m’ girl with me.”

She stared at him, silently giving him her please drop it look, but it only spurred him on further.

“If it’ll make yeh feel any better, I’ll make sure you’re not in it a bunch when it comes ‘round t’ editing. Barely put yeh up close too.”

That was enticing,Y/N could admit. He’d surely let her have the final say in how much she was involved, but there was still a lot of stress that came with being on camera. Especially in her state. She knew she wasn’t exactly hiding anything, as they’d been spotted countless times in public and their friends had posted photos to their stories with her body clearly visible in them, but some things she’d rather not shine a direct spotlight on. Doing something like this would most definitely be putting her business on display for the world to see, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. 

“Please, baby? I won’t ask yeh again, but I’d really love it if you were beside me.”

She wet her lips with her tongue, eyes darting up to the underside of the umbrella as she really, truly contemplating giving in to Harry’s pleads. On her life, she can barely recall a time when she hadn’t given Harry anything that he wanted. He just had a way with people that wasn’t manipulative or conniving in any way - he was magnetic. Everything about him was so charismatic and mesmerizing and anyone that met him found themselves gravitating towards him and going along with whatever he was saying or suggesting. I mean, she let him put a baby in her for christ’s sake.

“Help me up out of this thing and find me something to wear,” she huffed, to which Harry dramatically punched the air with his fist in celebration.

“One condition,” she interjected his boast and Harry tilted his ear in her direction and tapped his earlobe with his finger to show her that he was listening.

“You have to go down on me when we get home. It was torture watching you finger that watermelon, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“Yeh talkin’ like yeh think I wasn’t gonna try t’ squeeze in a quickie during lunch anyway.”

He pulled her up to her feet, making sure to keep a steady hand on her back as he led her away from the ocean and towards the beach entrance where the trailers were parked.

//

“Wha’ about this one?” Harry asked as he pulled a strapless swimsuit with a palm tree print littered about the fabric and presented it to her.

“One wrong step and my tits will fall right outta that thing,” she quipped.

Harry held it at arm’s reach so he get a better look at the garment himself.

“Yeah. You’re right. They are gettin’ pretty big, aren’t they?”

There was no malice laced within his comment, but when he felt a harsh backhand graze his shoulder, he realized what he’d just said.

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like tha’. Yeh know I love your boobs. Especially now.”

He tried to make up for it by reaching his hand out to playfully grab at Y/N’s chest, but she slapped his fingers away and continued thumbing through the racks filled with dozens if not hundreds of swimsuits for something she could manage to squeeze herself into.

“Ohh, wait! This one’s nice.”

Harry’s fingers got tangled in the lacy straps of the neighboring article of clothing beside the one he was trying to pull out, making a few hangers crash to the ground with a harsh sound against the linoleum. When she saw what he had found, she didn’t hate it. It was a sherbet-orange colored bikini that seemed as if it would cover everything she was concerned about showing, and the bottoms looked like they’d be somewhat decent at keeping her ass contained and wouldn’t ride up and make her constantly have to readjust it every five minutes. 

“Alright, Styles,” she squinted her eyes and nodded in approval.

“I’ll bite.”

He watched her as she peeled her romper that perfectly cradled her small yet still mighty bump, lingering for just a bit too long when she unhooked the back of her bra and dropped it to the floor.

“You gonna give me the swimsuit or are you gonna keep staring at me? It’s fucking hot in here, Harry.”

She was stark naked and had her hands on her hips, a sticky veil of sweat still shining on her skin from the mugginess of the wardrobe trailer. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at her state, his heart full of nothing but admiration for the girl standing in front of him.

“Here, I’ll help yeh into it.”

Harry kneeled down to the floor and guided her legs through the bikini bottoms. Just as he pulled them up around her thighs and onto her hips, he gave her bump a quick kiss. 

“We’re kinda matchin’ yeh know,” Harry babbled as he fastened the straps on her top.

“‘S the same color as m’ nails,” he stuck a leg out in front of her to wiggle his toes and show off the bright orange pedicure he’d gotten that morning.

“That’s disgustingly cute actually. Maybe I should change,” she joked.

“No way,” he dismissed her.

“Yeh ass looks too good in this one.”

Harry clapped both hands against her bum with gentle force, the two of them erupting into a fit of giggles. He spun her around by the shoulders to get a good look at her body, protruding belly and all, in the clementine orange swimsuit.

“M’ pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered as his lips met hers in a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

“I know I am,” Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Alright,” he continued.

“Just gotta change into m’ shorts and then I’ll be good t’ go. Meet yeh at the umbrella?”

“Oh hell no,” she jested.

“If you got to see me naked, I get to see you naked. Now get to stripping.”

//

The day went by in a blur.

What was supposed to be a brief cameo turned into Harry dragging Y/N into every scene he possibly could. When the directors instructed the models to gather in a pile around the pop star, he found his head perched in her lap, nestled perfectly atop her thighs with his temples pressed against her belly. When they’d wanted clips of everyone romping about the shoreline, he’d ended up carrying her around the beach after she’d gotten winded from doing one-too-many takes.

“Harry, I cannot fucking do this anymore,” she panted.

“I can practically feel my cankles growing.”

“Fine then,” he replied, hooking his forearm around the underside of her knees and scooping her up so that she was cradled against his burly chest.

“I’ll just carry yeh.”

He’d made her feed him raspberries as he sang the lyrics into the camera, even going so far as to suck on her fingers seductively when she went to drop one into his mouth. It wasn’t intended to be a serious attempt at filming the video, only him messing around and trying to get a rise out of her as he always did, but everyone ultimately decided that that the take they were going to use. She’d cursed him out under his breath, but they both knew it was for making her practically soak her knickers rather than getting dragged into more than she bargained for during the shoot.

Constantly, his hands always found themselves gravitating towards her belly. Whether it was rubbing her taught skin like a crystal ball as he sang the chorus instead of gesturing to the large watermelon that he was supposed to be holding, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

She’d known it was bound to happen at one point, but sometime throughout the afternoon he’d called for her and when she turned around, he was had shoved a watermelon up under his sheer, yellow blouse.

“Y/N!” Harry shouted at her from a few yards away, interrupting a lovely conversation she was having with one of the models.

“I’m you!”

He gestured to the fruit stuffed inside of his shirt, toyfully stroking the exterior in the manner that she always found herself doing even she wasn’t realizing. 

It made everyone, and I mean everyone, explode in laughter. It only made her hide her face in her hands after promptly shoving her middle finger in his direction.

But she’d gotten him back. When the director wanted shots of each of the girls taking bites out of a slice of watermelon, she’d made sure to take the messiest bite she could manage so that the juice ran down her chin and down the valley of her breasts. Y/N threw her head back as if were the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, exposing the column of her neck that Harry loved to mark up and bruise with his skillful tongue and lips.

“Yeh tryin’ t’ make me hard right now?” he all but growled in her ear when she’d joined him behind the camera so the next model could have their turn.

She simply cocked her head to one side and smirked up at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m going to the bathroom. All of this watermelon’s making me have to pee.”

When it came time for the portrait and everyone was being distributed their designated slice of fruit, Y/N found herself confused when Harry pulled her out of line.

“What are you doing, H?”

Harry held up a hand to signal that he’d be right back, to which he returned with an uncut watermelon. Quite possibly the biggest watermelon that she’d ever seen at that.

“Yeh don’t get a slice, yeh get the whole damn watermelon.”

They’d all piled up on the bench and stared stoically into the camera, only instead of raising the wedge to their lips to take a bite, Y/N sat on the grass at Harry’s knees, a whole watermelon resting in between her legs in front of her bump.

//

Y/N’s day ended up being far more fun than she’d ever imagined it could have been despite her constant nagging and jabs at Harry’s expense. While she’d initially only agreed to be a part of Harry’s music video under the condition that her role would be minimum, she was secretly hoping that all of their side conversations and what would be considered “outtakes” would actually make in into the final cut. 

In fact, she’d had so much fun that at the end of the day when filming had wrapped and her and Harry were on the way home, the gentle hum of his convertible and the cool breeze that followed a blistering day on Malibu beach had slowly began willing her eyes shut. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her from the driver’s seat.

“Hmm?” Y/N picked her head up from where it was leaning against the window to look over at him.

“Don’t go t’ sleep on me now.”

He reached over to grab her left hand that had settled itself on top of her round stomach. Before lacing his fingers with hers, he kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“Still got t’ go down on yeh when we get home. Bet yeh gonna taste like strawberries.”

[popwasabi]

“Who are you?” The scene that defines Chadwick Boseman’s legacy

Yesterday, the world lost a bright and promising, burgeoning talent in Chadwick Boseman.

I had wondered privately for a while if something was wrong with him, as others had as well online, as he appeared increasingly sicker with each interview he gave over the last two years. I thought maybe I had been looking too much into it, not wanting to jump to conclusions about who he was but now gravely we all know why.

The much too young star of films such as “42,” “Marshall,” and of course, “Black Panther” had been fighting a largely private battle with colon cancer for four years.

It was devastating hearing this news yesterday, the man who undeniably left behind a legacy of playing prominent black heroes, both historical and fictional, passed away just as he was starting to truly hit it big. When you begin to realize the man was dealing with cancer as he performed physically demanding roles in the MCU you begin to see the character and determination of a man unwilling to quit in the face of true adversity.

But he clearly wasn’t just doing it for himself when he continued making and promoting NINE more movies despite his diagnosis, afterall no one would’ve blamed the guy for taking it easy these past four years. He’s had many scenes that define his legacy over his all too short career but I feel it can really be summed up in one particular moment from by far his most famous film; “Black Panther.”

Those who know me or have read my work know that I have a fairly cynical relationship with the Marvel Cinematic Universe. While I would not say most of them are “bad” per se, I would say a ton of them are largely interchangeable action comedies with pretty straightforward messages about good vs evil for general audiences. They are largely popcorn escapism and though there is nothing technically wrong with that, I was starved for an MCU film that was sincere about its story finally and had something real to say.

Enter “Black Panther” in early 2018.

“Black Panther” was everything I had long been waiting for in the MCU; a film with a real sense of vision and theme, a killer soundtrack, great supporting characters, a complicated and nuanced villain, and a story that didn’t feel the need to add a joke after every single scene like more typical MCU movies. The tip of that spear of course was Chadwick, who had already proved to be a great Black Panther in one of the few other sincere Marvel flicks “Civil War.” His natural charisma, physicality, and dramatic presence in this role made him a huge standout in frankly the best ensemble cast of any superhero movie ever.

The scene that truly sums up not just the mark “Black Panther” left on Hollywood but Chadwick’s own legacy comes at the very end though (the first of three, of course. It’s an MCU movie, afterall).

T’Challa has defeated his usurper cousin Erik Killmonger, his rule restored in Wakanda but clearly a changed man from the story’s beginning as he reckons with the complicated legacy of his father. He travels to Oakland, the birthplace of Killmonger, with his sister Shuri who he explains the crime committed by their father in this place and how it set off the events of the story. He turns to Shuri, tells her that he has decided to help this afflicted community by creating a Wakandan outreach center for the youth to give them a new hope in life. As he says this he decloaks their ship nearby, surprising the youth already in the area who are immediately in awe of it. One of the kids turns to T’Challa, smiling, a sense of inspiration and intrigue brewing inside, and asks “Who are you?” to which the young King simply smiles, then the credits roll.

It’s a simple scene but it truly speaks to the impact left behind by Chadwick and the importance of representation. 

“Black Panther” is hardly the first starring vehicle for a black man, it’s not even the first black super hero movie but what it made it different is it was the first blockbuster to truly lean unapologetically into its African identity to focus on the inspiration of a story centered around that culture. It showed Hollywood that an action blockbuster not just centered on a black star but centered on African culture had vast widespread appeal.

White kids will never have a shortage of white superheroes to grow up with on the big screen; a diverse palette of Supermans, Spider-mans, Captain Americas, and shit we’re even getting our sixth new Batman actor since 1989 soon. But Chadwick gave black kids their first real Superman of their own. 

In the years since this came out, I have seen the influence, at times, firsthand among the youth. I work part-time as a kids martial arts instructor and each Halloween party we’ve held I’ve seen a few more T’Challas among the costumes represented. When I ask kids, black, white, or Asian, what their favorite superhero is, it always warms my heart to see a kid light up when they say “BLACK PANTHER!”

(Seriously, cute AF)

This goes beyond just my anecdotal observations of course; the film grossed a billion dollars, and there are countless videos online of kids yelling “Wakanda forever!” at the top of their lungs while rocking a Black Panther suit or reciting one of the movie’s memorable lines. It’s beautiful because it speaks to that last scene’s key message; inspiration.

Growing up myself, as a half Asian American, there weren’t a ton of role models who looked like me to take inspiration from. I didn’t really understand how much this could affect me until I finally did start seeing people like myself occupy positions of influence. I didn’t start caring for baseball until I saw a slugger named Hideki Matsui smash a couple dingers in a Yankees’ uniform in the early 2000s. I didn’t care much for martial arts, outside my very early youth, until I witnessed a half Japanese Brazilian named Lyoto Machida KO Thiago Silva at UFC 94 in 2009. I didn’t care much for soccer until a striker named Keisuke Honda played out of his mind in the early rounds of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Sometimes you gotta see something happen in order to believe and be inspired by it and it’s easier to visualize it when you see someone who looks like you do it. That’s what representation means and why it’s important.

It’s easy for white America to dismiss the need for representation in media when theirs is so saturated in the culture everyday. Cries of “wHaT aBoUt wHiTe HiStORy mOnTH?!” delivered unironically while their history is proudly given front seat consideration in all forms of media, film, and influence every day. This is why it drives me so crazy when a white person tells me “representation isn’t important” because apparently, they “don’t need it.”

Well motherfucker, of course you don’t need it. You fucking got yours already!

(What every non-white person wants to say when confronted with this tired, out of touch argument...)

“Black Panther” delivered a superhero that not only black children could be proud of and love but someone they could draw inspiration from. Kids are going to want to become film directors cause of this movie, actors, stuntmen, martial artists, scientists, engineers, and so many other different things that the world of Wakanda proudly showcases and it’s all thanks to Chadwick’s leading man performance that made it possible.

Some jokes I’ve heard frequently on the internet is that Chadwick was on somewhat of a quest to play every major black role in story-telling history, what with performances as Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, James Brown, and of course Black Panther. But I think his 2018 speech at his Alma Mater of Howard really explains why he kept looking to play these major positive black roles.

(I encourage you to listen to the whole thing but the part that’s important here begins at 21:55)

Hollywood likes to pigeon hole certain demographics of people (aka non-white) to play stereotypical roles forever until they are proven to be lucrative in different ways (Qualified Immunity of film-making if you will…). Black people largely could mostly play thugs and drug dealers, Latinx can only be gang bosses and poor servants and gardeners, Asians are either kung fu masters or some other offensive perpetual foreigner. And in worst cases no role at all, instead whitewashed for general audiences (aka white folk). 

Chadwick took a stand that the color of his skin did not define who Hollywood narrowly believed he could perform as and set out to play characters and people who could inspire a new generation of African Americans and show the rest of the country that they were more than a stereotype.

When that young kid in that final scene asks, “Who are you?” and T’Challa smiles its because he knows he’s already changing hearts and minds for the future, just as Chadwick did playing this truly inspirational role.

“Black Panther” is not a perfect movie. I could discuss the ways it could’ve been better and even, less problematic in parts on a different day, but the legacy it leaves behind is one that’s undeniably positive and Chadwick was able to make that a reality. Perhaps he understood that if the world knew his diagnosis it would blunt the impact of “Black Panther’s” release, that if little kids and African Americans alike knew their superhero was already dying it would mar the film’s positivity and influence. I can’t speak for the dead obviously, and in no way am I saying one should just push through a cancer diagnosis and keep it secret, but I can see Chadwick understanding what it would mean for the audience if they just believed for as long as possible that they would have their king of Wakanda forever.

As Robert Downey Jr. said on social media last night “He leveled the playing field while fighting for his life.”

Though I will never know him personally, by most measures Chadwick seemed to be exactly the kind of hero he showed up to be on the big screen and his legacy will ultimately be that of one who looked to inspire others, particularly the next generation until his final breath. If that doesn’t make him a hero, I don’t know what does.

Rest in power, King. Wakanda Forever…

(Via BossLogic)

[holisticalecsecareanu]

This interview by ERA News Beta speaks to Alec about a varied number of subjects to do with his film casting and debut in GOC, but farther than that, Alec speaks in great detail about his journey in Romanian theatre,  his views on the state of Romanian theatre today,  his acting philosophy.

I found this an incredibly revelatory article about Alec because you don’t fully realize, until an interview like this,  the depth and breadth, not only of his intelligence, but of his strong beliefs and views regarding his chosen profession. It’s very different going from little snippets in interviews where Alec discusses mostly just one project, to this really comprehensive presentation of who he is as a person and an actor. Also, obviously being able to discuss such complex subjects in his native language, I believe, really allows him to open up more comfortably.

He has a -LOT- of strong feelings and responses to the questions the interviewer asks and he expresses them eloquently, intelligently, and also pretty bluntly, sometimes. It shifted, a little, and not in a bad way, who he is in my head, or rather, it fleshed out who he is in a way that all the quick sound bites and magazine interviews don’t.

I know, from this, that he will never strop striving to push himself and his abilities, to discover new and different ways to learn in his craft. This interview also goes a long way towards explaining how Josh, Francis, and he,  formed such a bond, because I believe they also hold these beliefs and commitments to the roles they take on and the projects invest in. It’s almost like kismet because what are the odds that these three individuals would have the same kind of approach to the story they were telling? I think that is why God’s Own Country is such a superlative and luminous film.

Also, the Fight Club production sounds KICK ASS and I wish I had seen it and I can’t believe someone didn’t tape it!

And, yes, that photo, because it never, never ceases to rock every aspect of my world.

This interview is in Romanian but, at least on Google, there is a Google translate button that appears. I have also provided the Google translated version below; am not able to vouch for it’s accuracy, but at least it is something!

Thank you if you’ve read this far. :-D

Google Translation of Interview Below. : 

The first British film brings a London agent to Alec Secăreanu

There is also news that one of the young aspirants managed a movie in Hollywood, and for a second people hold their breath, dismayed, wondering "what the hell is this?", Before the engines start again. and to see life beyond its course - Radu Iacoban once said to me, referring to an entire generation, actors who are making their way to a glory that neither they nor we know much about yet . It could have the American endorsement or the greatness of the European trophies, in any case it will no longer be possible to rely on the applause of those who built their illusions in the theaters where they were taken by force or on the admiration of those who dreamed of the two hours of the program. television of yesteryear.

Alec Secăreanu is not one of the 10-15 actors who appear constantly in the distribution of each of the films of the new wave, fueling the impression that only a few people have managed to finish the theater institute in Romania lately. But it has the merit of entering Tyler Durden's mind. And to enter Tyler Durden's mind is courage, especially since it is a dark mind, split into two completely separate universes, and in each of them reigns revolt in all its forms, revolt against the system, against consumer society, against to an absent father and, therefore, against God himself. It's an even greater courage to do this after a perfect director has already passed by, who explored his corners, in tandem with an iconic actor.

The first six rounds of Fight Club demonstrations were, at the end of last year, an absolute success in Bucharest, so the complete version follows, with sophisticated projections made by Les Ateliers Nomades - the company that made the famous mapping on the Parliament Palace - and imagined stunt figures under the guidance of experts from the Gladiator Association, which works in the good tradition of its illustrious founder, Szobi Csech. It's like we lost sleep. Anyway, Tyler Durden doesn't sleep either… Alec Secăreanu certainly sleeps quite a bit himself, since in the meantime he finished filming the first feature film in which he took the lead role, a kind of Brokeback Mountain with a farmer from Romania, the debut film of the British director Francis Lee.

There were nine weeks of filming in Yorkshire, enduring the "bipolar weather" of England, during which time he learned, among other things, to cut the hooves of cattle, to make cheese, to witness the birth of lambs. Oleacă already knew from the Fight Club. And in few percussions I surpass him, after Alexandrul Dabija's Requiem, from the National Theater in Bucharest. In addition to stories about the British system, a show business performance machine, news about new theatrical productions in Bucharest or evaluations of Romanian theater in general, from Alec Secăreanu I found out that there is an online radio that takes you far, Nice Cream FM , and something even more interesting, that there is Radiooooo, with five "o's", which allows you to choose from the map of the world what kind of music you want, in decades, from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present. «You can understand your decade and your country and listen to, say, Mongolian music from the '60s. It's something like Wikipedia, users are still uploading music, so they've already reached an impressive database, "says Alec.

Rep: Actors of your generation make most of the film and most make film outside. Ana Ularu, Iacoban, Bucur… a long series in which you have just been included, in the most honorable way, with a British production, a kind of Brokeback Montain as far as I understand, a love story that happens on a farm and involves a character born in Romania

Alec Secăreanu: The first feature film in which I had the main role, "God's Own Country" is Francis Lee's debut film. I really wanted a Romanian for the role, because the character in this story is Romanian, and the director wanted everything to be as authentic and organic as possible. Of course, the character has only a line or two in Romanian, not at all significant, by the way, for the story, so they could take absolutely any other actor who speaks English with an accent. But he wanted everything to be organic. The casting director from Romania gave more than 40 rehearsals and, a few weeks later, the director came to Bucharest and wanted to meet about 13 of us, a group from which he chose three actors. The three were in London for a final test, a so-called chemistry test with the other actor, the one who had already taken the role.

YOU HAVE TO HAVE EXTREMELY STRONG NERVES THOUGH, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE STAKES ARE HIGH. PROBABLY THE FIRST THING YOU NEED TO GET USED TO AS AN ACTOR IS TO BE REJECTED. YOU GO TO DOZENS OF CASTINGS, TO HUNDREDS OF CASTINGS, YOU GET FIVE OR TEN PERCENT OF THEM, TO THE OTHERS YOU ARE REJECTED AND, MOST OF THE TIME, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

 They are simply looking for something else, the sooner you understand this system, the better. To keep your lucidity and show signs of mental health. And you have every reason to protect your health, since, in the end, the tool you work with is yourself and, if you break this tool or if it is defective, it no longer serves you properly. My character's name is Gheorghe Ionescu, he is a young Romanian farmer who went to work in England, who ends up working somewhere, in an isolated complex in Yorkshire, and there he meets a guy, the boy of the farm owners. An unexpected meeting for both of them, surprising, a friendship and a fascination are linked and the two end up living a love story, although neither of them identifies as a gay person. In fact, the film does not want to be a gay movie, but, rather, a story about people, a plea that some encounters are love. A very interesting creative connection was created between me, my colleague, Josh O'Connor, the director Francis Lee and Joshua, our operator.

We had two weeks of rehearsals, in which we discussed very well each stage of the script, each sequence, what happens to the characters, the history of each of them. When I started working, everyone in the frame knew what to do. I filmed a lot of exteriors, on which occasion I got to know very well the weather in England, which is dementia, you

have four seasons in one day, it starts with snow, followed by a storm, then hail, then the sun rises, then again it snows a little and so on. In fact, the weather was a real problem at the connections, because I was starting a frame in the sun and when I resumed it, it was snowing outside, so things didn't fit.

THE TWO WEEKS OF REHEARSALS HELPED ME BUILD THE CHARACTER, BECAUSE I HAD TO WORK ON THE FARM, I LEARNED TO WORK WITH COWS, SHEEP, TO WITNESS THE BIRTH OF LAMBS, TO CUT THE HOOVES OF CATTLE, TO MAKE CHEESE , LOTS OF THINGS. IF THIS THING WITH ACTING DOESN'T WORK… I LEARNED SOME EXTREMELY USEFUL THINGS, WHAT CAN I SAY.

Rep: I understand that the benefits were even greater, you chose an invitation to the British actors' union and a London agent…

Alec Secăreanu: I had the opportunity, for nine weeks, to work in a healthy system from the ground up, starting from the way the union works, to the fact that the actors from the British schools learn notions of personal discipline from college, in a broader framework for the management of the profession. I was treated as a member of their union. A month and a half after I finished filming, my agent received an email from the union asking if I had been paid for the work done, so that the warranty that had been withheld from the producers at the time could be released. in which they announced the film. What can I say… welcome to Romania!

I told them that I am not part of this union, they told me that such a contract in the UK guarantees me these rights and allows me to become a member. I'll be back on the 20th for a series of meetings, and we'll probably finish the talks on this occasion. In the meantime, I also have an agent in London, in addition to those who represent me in Romania. I started the relationship with my agent from Romania, Alexandru Harsany, from RAA (Romanian Artists Agency), two years ago, when I was just returning from Venice, where I stayed for about three months, at the Art Biennale, where I was a performer in an installation built by Alexandra Pirici. Alexandra…, a perfect artist… two days ago completed a performance that will be presented at the Tate, in London…

Returning to my professional path, my stake, I once told my agent, is to work abroad, because in the country, unfortunately, you have nothing to do. You just have nothing to do. Seven to eight films are made a year, which usually have the same cast. In fact, if you look at Romanian films from the last ten years, you might get the impression that only 15 actors have graduated from the University of Romania lately. Beyond this shortcoming, there is no market, the options are few, I do not understand how many of my colleagues manage. Well, I'm in this situation too. Outside, once you have a major project, some doors open, everything goes on.

HERE, I HAVE COLLEAGUES THAT PEOPLE RECOGNIZE ON THE STREET, BY SUBWAY AND BY BUS, WHERE THEY ARE MAINLY BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE TAXI MONEY. IT'S FRUSTRATING.

I worked with my agent in Romania, I updated my casting photos every six months, which means to make available to potential producers a picture of the state, in which you must be relaxed, not to frown and to highlights your features as best you can. We have updated, to the necessary standards, the video materials or CV presentations, ie that series of things without which you have nothing to look for at the door of a casting director or an agent. While filming in England, the producers there issued a press release announcing that they were filming and that they had a certain distribution. At time number two, Alexandru's mail exploded, hundreds of requests, questions and offers came, sent by casting directors, agents, an entire machine was set in motion.

During the filming in London, I had five days off at one point, and the producers arranged for me to meet with some other directors, agencies, to see how things worked. They are somehow looking for unpolished stones, hoping to find the next great talent. We don't have this culture. I know only one casting agent who goes to shows or to UNATC, to see new faces, and that is Domnica Cârciumaru. The others always work with the same people, and that's especially because they don't know other people, they don't look to see what actors there are on the market, they don't care. Romanian agencies do not have casting databases, for example.

There are real platforms out there for that. Our casting directors work from project to project. 'What I need, a 40-year-old woman. Where else have I had a 40-year-old woman? Aha, in the gum commercial. Well, let's call that one too - that's how things work. In London I had meetings with three agencies and I opted for a rather large one, The Independent, which deals not only with actors, but also with directors, screenwriters, a total of about a thousand people. I liked that it works as a boutique agency, they have 40 agents, every week they meet and discuss the projects that are on the market and to which they have access and then they try to promote the people they represent. In addition, this agency is open to the States. We will see…

Rep: Returning closer to home, you have a few shows in Bucharest, including Fight Club, one of the revelations of last season. The first six rounds of Fight Club demonstrations were an absolute success, so the full version follows… 

Alec Secăreanu: In addition to the most recent premiere, Fight Club, we have an extraordinary show at Godot, «Flowers, Girls, Movies or Boys», which we have been playing for ten years with great success. It is one of the first texts written by Mimi Brănescu, he being a basic actor, but lately he has reshaped himself on dramaturgy and screenwriting. A show about relationships, which follows the evolution of two couples, from the moment when future lovers know each other, until a little later, when they may lose love. It's a good, funny text, it catches the audience very well. I'm one of those lovers, a filthy neighborhood wannabe, the kind who feels like he knows them all, and obviously he's not.

His evolution is very interesting, he hits a person he underestimates, in any case he did not expect to have such an impact on him. The girl is from another social class and this very conflict between social classes arouses him and makes him get closer. In time, however, the two realize that they do not have much in common.

I KNOW, I KNOW, THERE'S A THEORY THAT OPPOSITES WOULD BE DRAWN, BUT THEY'RE MOST LIKELY DRAWN TO THE POINT WHERE THEY REALLY HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON. THEY MAY NOT EVEN MEET AT ALL, AND THAT'S THE STRANGENESS OF THE COUPLE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.

I have another show at the National Theater, Requiem, directed by Alexandru Dabija, entered the seasons last year, things are going well. We expected him to be selected in the National Theater Festival, but it seems that was not the case. It is a text Vişniec, first placed in Romania, with references to an area that seems to be of great interest to Dabija now, more precisely the area of ​​war, the world of soldiers. Vişniec was also interested in this form in one form or another, if we think of "The Woman as a Battlefield in the Bosnian War".

most spectacular staging of this text. There was another show, once in France, he told me that he had seen it, but that it is much more extravagant. Dabija thought of an image show, there are costumes, there is scenery, there are quite a few actors on stage, about 20, some of them employees of TNB, most of them - collaborators. It is sung, it is sung beautifully, the music is by Ada Milea, some songs are really very nice, it is a kind of music specific to the instruments with which it is played: an accordion, a big drum - where I play… We have some marches and various others pieces that lead to the military music area.

I play the role of a soldier who still believes in victory. The story takes place in a cafe Chez Vişniec, a place where soldiers meet who are preparing to return home, who dream of the triumphant march and the glory of reception in their cities. All sorts of people gather at this cafe, some who have never believed in victory, others who have believed, there are some who still believe that victory is possible - all sorts of psychologists synthesized from this theater of war.

What did not delight me about this text is the fact that the characters do not have an evolution from one end of the show to the other. A logic does not have to exist, it is an area of ​​the theater that Vişniec has accustomed us to, but the characters, although very vehement, with a very strong speech, were suitable for a well-deserved development.

Rep: Do you believe in victory? Or have you not fought your big battles so far?

Alec Secăreanu: No, the great battles did not take place. But we started with a few fights, some of which we lost, others we won, others are still contested. I lost, for example, the struggle with the idealism I had at the end of college. I was very disappointed when I finished college, very disappointed… I had high expectations from the Romanian theater market, I hoped to have a vision, a coherence, a general enthusiasm. Of course, everyone wants to be part, at some point, of a movement that means something. I'm still part of the independent theater area, so I never relied on the state theater to do anything for me.

BY THE WAY, I THINK THAT THE STATE THEATER HAS ENTERED A KIND OF SHADOW CONE, IN THE SENSE THAT, AT LEAST THAT IS MY IMPRESSION, IT HAS BECOME MANNERIST, IT HAS NO IMAGINATION, IT HAS STUCK IN SOME RECIPES THAT SEEM TO WORK AND, WITH FEW EXCEPTIONS, NO ONE SEEMS WILLING TO DEVELOP NEW THEATRICAL EXPRESSIONS.

And in the latter case, the high hopes and high expectations were primarily for them, because they manage the funds needed to do that. Every year they have to put on a number of shows and I look in amazement that they are not trying to discover anything, they are systematically going to areas where they have been before, they only walk on dirt paths. It's not the commercial that has to bring the world to the theater. There may be a commercial area, but I think it is our duty, of artists, actors, directors, to push the boundaries a little, to invent new ways.

But the independent theater is currently identifying itself as an area of ​​precarious means. You do shows that catch the audience - logically, otherwise you can't finance yourself, the setting is, most often, modest, consisting of two chairs and a table - since there is no money for something more sophisticated, the costumes are also as they are - most often the actors come with their clothes from home. It's a poor theater, let's face it. If you try to look for what is happening in the independent theater, the first time you notice the lack of funds, and you notice it as a spectator and it would not be your job as a spectator to see things like that. It can be seen that the director made a kind of compromise with the money to make this show. While in the state theater a lot of funds are lost.

There are exceptions, of course, but my huge frustration is that you see shows with extraordinary budgets and you don't understand why the money went for such a show, which doesn't bring anything new. While in the independent theater there are so many ideas and so much desire to work, but there is no funding for their realization. I was really talking to someone the other day, because we're looking for funding for Fight Club, and I was asked, okay, beyond funding, what's the business? Let's get along, we're talking about an art form, and monetizing art in this brutal way is harder to imagine, because our stake is to try to develop new theatrical languages, we need grants, state aid, maybe even the private area, the effort is not made for a show to be sold like this, to fill the halls.

If you want that, you have a party, you call the world, you play a few more instruments, you say three more poems and that was it. Either way you want to go, the discussion inevitably reaches the area of ​​the diseased system, which you have little to do, except to try to build it from scratch.

I have a cultural association with some colleagues. We realized in 2007, when we finished the University, that there is no point in hoping, that we will not receive any kind of help from the theaters, where even now the places are blocked.

I WOULDN'T SAY THEY AVOID YOUNG PEOPLE, BUT RATHER THAT THEY ARE WARMER WITHOUT US. THERE ARE A LOT OF EMPLOYEES IN THEATERS WHO DO NOTHING, BUT KEEP THE SEATS BLOCKED, TWO OR THREE SEATS APPEAR ONCE EVERY THREE YEARS.

IT'S A KIND OF SLAVERY, PEOPLE WORK IN A WELL-GROUNDED SYSTEM, WHICH NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO CHANGE.

In fact, the same situation is in every state institution, many people who receive a meaningless salary. And these are not theater companies, to say that they are families, but they are state institutions, financed from the budget. One is an independent, self-financing theater company and theoretically is allowed to do whatever it wants with its money, and another is a budget-funded theater, obliged to function for the public and to educate it, to arouse it, to motivate it. . If you put the same pieces of Caragiale and Chekhov every year, and only that, and only that…

Rep: There are all kinds of public calls lately for the elimination from the scene - from various scenes - of the generation we call, coded, "golden", as we saw calls of some intermediate generations, I would not know how to define them , to finance somewhat less intellectual productions, which have at least some connection with the public. Where is the truth? And with the golden generation, what should be done, ideally, from the point of view of the new wave you represent?

Alex Secăreanu: Who else is today a consumer of magazine theater, for example? They are nostalgic, and they know where to find their shows, and they somehow look for them by virtue of inertia. I have no problem taking care of established actors. I appreciate them as history and there are some from which I had a lot to learn, because they are better than me. Victor Rebengiuc, for example, with whom I worked for a short film called Casting Call, written and directed by Conrad Mericoffer, is a man from whom I learned a lot. The story follows an elderly actor, who is called to a casting, but it is not necessarily about the elderly actor, but a generic meditation on the condition of the actor, because we are all, in fact, in the same situation. I played, Paul Ipate, Victor Rebengiuc and Sergiu Costache.

I learned a lot in the short time I spent with Rebengiuc, how to behave in a team, how to approach a role…

IT'S LIKE CHESS. IF YOU PLAY WITH SOMEONE WHO IS BETTER THAN YOU, YOU LEARN FROM HIM. IT'S NICE TO HAVE SOMEONE BETTER BEAT YOU, BECAUSE YOU LEARN FROM HIM.

There are cases, however, in which it would be in the best interest of the actors in question to give up, as is the case of Radu Beligan, for whom I have a huge respect, but who has advanced a lot in age, goes through natural stages of life, to simply remember the lines, it is simply no longer possible. What we want from this story is already doing him a disservice. It's just an example. With reconfigurations and reinventions it is harder… but actors like Victor Rebengiuc and Marcel Iureș believe that they went in different ways from the very beginning, they wanted more than they were offered and they looked for more.

In this profession you never stop searching, because as soon as you get the impression that you know them all, you enter a very dangerous area, an area where you don't come up with anything new, and the viewer feels that. You have to surprise him, he has to see you doing something new, otherwise there is no stake.

Rep: Fight Club… You were able to get into Tyler Durden's mind, a courage, probably, after his twisted imagination was once explored by David Fincher, with the iconic film released in 1999. What you found there ?

Alex Secăreanu: Fight Club… is a story that, for me, started many years ago. I read Chuck Palahniuk's book in 2006 and I thought that this book must be a theater show. The idea bothered me for many years, until last year, when the stars lined up, I said it would be time to do it, especially since I found an exceptional team. We developed ideas, we had a lot of meetings in which we kept challenging the imagination, to see where the story can take us, and finally we were ready to put everything into practice. Sure, we hit the funding. Arcubul financed us for the show, which is a complex one, with multimedia elements, videomapping, fight scenes, music,

It was a test for us first of all, to see if our ideas work, if the team works. After the first six rounds, we realized that we are on a very good road, which must be continued. We can bring new elements to the theater, we can develop new languages ​​in the theater, we wanted from the beginning to make an experience for the spectator, a one hundred percent experience made for him. We wanted the spectator, when he left the theater, to feel that he had received a punch in the stomach. We got pretty close to the goal, all the people said, after the show, that they lived that thing that we felt when we were little and we watched a karate movie, and after the movie you wanted to jump around the house, to give more and you a fist, try another scheme.

He left absolutely no one regardless of this show, which is very important. We need some more money to set it up the way we thought it would. The amount is not large for a state theater, but huge for an independent theater. About 60,000 euros. Usually, in the independent theater you say, come on, how much do we have, 5,000 euros? Let's do it, we come home with more clothes, we cut another set, we give up that one, the other one and we did the show. When you have thought of an artistic approach in a coherent way, you cannot make concessions like this. You can not. There are elements, means that you absolutely need to build your convention fluently, to say what you wanted to say.

THERE ARE ALSO PRODUCTIONS AT TNB OF ONE MILLION EUROS, APUS DE SOARE, THIS ONE FROM TEN YEARS AGO OR WHEN IT WAS MADE, TWO SEASONS WERE ALSO PLAYED AT REVEDERE.

There is also a record amount for a show that has never been played before. I don't know how much the funding was, but let's remember that in the year of Caragiale, a theater wanted to do D'ale Carnavalului somewhere, at the Metrorex Halls. They equipped a hall with bombers, cars, an entire fair built from scratch, and the show was never done again

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

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“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

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On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating. 

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

[asatoyuya]

[2.5-Jigen!!] HanaMyu Interview Translation

Eito Konishi x Yuya Asato Co-Starring in 「Jibaku Shonen Hanako-Kun ~ The Musical」  for the first time, shares their first impressions of each other  

(20 January 2021)

Original article: https://25jigen.jp/interview/37493

Translated by: Asato Yuya International Fan Page

2.5-Jigen!!: We had a chat with Eito Konishi, who plays the role of Hanako and who is starring as the show’s lead for the first time, and Yuya Asato, who plays the role of the mysterious teacher, Tsuchigomori. 

Q: This is the first time that you both are co-starring.  Please share with us your impressions of each other. 

Asato: “He’s really young and fresh-faced!”, that’s what I thought at first. After that, when I actually met and got to talk to him, I realised that he is actually a very calm and nice child. But that may just be what I noticed about him...(laughs)

Konishi: Before I started this job, I was just an ordinary high school student and I have watched the plays which Asato-san appeared in. It was so hot and cool ... so I was really looking forward to meeting him. When we finally met, I felt that he was a very kind and reliable senior. Actually, I've already bugged him with a lot of questions. (laughs)

Q: This will be Konishi-san’s first time working with director Kotaro Yoshitani for this play. As Asato-san has worked with Director Yoshitani many times, do you have any advice for him?

Asato: I think about how Yoshitani-san will approach the direction of this play. Yoshitani-san's production is very unique. His direction expands the imagination of the viewer, and the inside of his mind is like the universe itself...So, those who are working with him for the first time may be surprised. So this time round, I have taken up the role of intercepting between the cast members and Yoshitani-san, to help them follow and support the director’s vision. By that, it’s more of “I don’t really understand that part too.” (laughs).  

Konishi: I'm counting on you on this! It's my first time working with Yoshitani-san, and I'm new to musicals and dance, so I'd really like to have Asato-san, who has a lot of experience and respect in this field, guide me along. 

Q: In a company full of young and a fresh-faced cast members, how would you like to treat everyone as the oldest person?

Asato: Ah, that's right...the oldest person. I'm also surprised about that (laughs). As all these young and energetic people are gathering in this show, I hope to support them from the backseat. But actually, rather than thinking about it, I'm the type who takes action when I want to do something. Of course right now, I'm thinking "I wish I can support them", but how can I go about doing that...? I am looking forward to that myself. I may be the oldest, but I’m probably the most easily-manipulated (laughs).

Q: Regarding the character Tsuchigomori, may I know what kind of impression do have of him? 

Asato: He has a warm personality. He’s always closely looking out for Hanako-kun wistfully. He does have a sharp tongue, but as a teacher, I think he's a really reliable parent-like figure for Hanako-kun. 

Q: In your opinion what does Tsuchigomori’s existence mean to Hanako-kun?

Konishi: I feel that he is the one who understands Hanako-kun the most. He knows Hanako from the old days, and he was always there with him ... so he is someone that Hanako-kun can be at ease with and rely on. Asato-san is also a reliable person, so there is a lot of overlap between the role and my impression of him. Since it's a musical, I have a lot of things to learn about singing, dancing, and acting, so I really want to learn by chatting with him and listening to him. 

Asato: I’d really like to do that too! 

Q: 「Jibaku Shonen Hanako-Kun ~ The Musical」 will be the first stage show in 2021 for the both of you? 

Konishi: It's my first musical and my first time being the lead, so I've been really excited since I heard about it! I want to do my best in the rehearsals. 

Asato: On the contrary, I'm wondering if I should watch over from behind just like Tsuchigomori (laughs).

Konishi: Whaaaat? (laughs). I believe that you will be able to help me do my best!

Asato: No, I'm always in a nervous wreck (laughs).

Q: It looks like everyone is getting along well in the company. 

Asato: It's a story about a school, so it’ll be great if we could bring out the fun and school-like atmosphere to the show. As the show is full of young cast members, and I hope that the fun of school will be conveyed to the audience who are watching it.

Konishi: Exactly what he said. 

Q. By the way, this work has some scary elements, are you good with horror?

Asato: I'm no good with it (laughs).

Konishi: I'm fine! I love being frightened. Maybe it's because I don't believe in scary things.

Asato: I'm terrified because I believe in ghosts. Hanako-kun is okay, but I’m really bad with scary stuff. I don't understand the meaning of a haunted house anymore... Like why does anyone want to be scared ? (Laughs) Actually, I'm even afraid of the loud noises on stage ... But this time, I would like to borrow the ‘face’ of Tsuchigomori and create an atmosphere where I can say "This isn't scary at all?" (Laughs).

Q: Please share a message with the fans and the highlights of this stage.

Asato: I think it will be a work that the audience can enjoy, it is beautiful, a little scary, and also painful. Together with the strengths of Director Yoshitani-san and all of us, we hope to be able to deliver an enjoyable show to all of you. Please look forward to it!

-end- 

[dwestfieldblog]

A VERY REMOTE ENGLISH TEACHER

Where meditations, rants, reverie and absent seizures cross over... closer to one gun with one bullet, the rose of ruby and the cross of gold...uff, and MENTACIDE IN THE TIME OF MASQUES. Although I have never suffered from the guilty masochistic torture of ‘pleasure anxiety’, Bacchus hath indeed drowned more men than Neptune.  So I stopped drinking for 18 days to fool myself I was doing something positive and threw away enough things to be minimalist again. Arf. Beauty and/or function uber alles.  

Been treading water for three years and trying not to drown...big round of one hand clapping for the former poet. Meanwhile, in this temporary world and perception I have created of it, I am looking at a very possible exile one way or the other...my ‘plan’...a long phased withdrawal or hasty retreat. My wish is to stay, but once I leave, it might well be very hard to return.  Read as many metaphors as you want into that but in spite of my dislike of the conservatively minded Aristotle’s ‘either/or’ nonsense, there do indeed appear to be only two this time. And appear is the operative word. Appearances can be deceptive and emotions (unless raised and focused) cloud over what should be clear. Pain has a tendency to breed worry and fear too but let’s draw a veil over that for now eh? Suppress, suppress, release comes later...breathe deep and try not to cough, onward we go where the game gets rough...Just like Tom Thumbs Blues 65.  

Remember Roman Protasevich...As Lukasenko himself said...‘Belarus stood at the edge of an abyss and I helped it take a step forward’. Look good on your tombstone that will Al. Fecking outrageous the Indian PM only admitted in May that covid was transmitted in the air. He needs removing... as do two thirds of all the other world leaders East and West. Hello Bollsanaro. People are very easy to manipulate when they’re are scared or angry...and right now the world majority are both. But, ‘there is a crack in everything... that’s how the light gets in’... and ‘things could change’, doesn’t have to be for the worse. It can take decades to realise this as actual truth, but still nice to read and try internalise the following last week.’The odds actually favour the optimists, since dissipate structures are more likely to evolve into more information rich (intelligent?) forms than into primitive or chaotic forms.’ All my friends bar my best one are optimists..Hello you:-)

Ever onward deeper downward with Orban in Hungary and his mission of ‘Christian values’, which involves a familiar routine of arresting, beating and disappearing dissenters in the name of Christ and taking over the universities to replace professors with those who understand on which side their bread is buttered. Decent judges long gone. Nice fascist communism...and ex soldiers in France and the Czech republic warning of civil war...

And now spiraling we go into the black hole vortex of Disaster capitalism, ‘Let the bodies pile high’. There’s gold in them thar ills....ISLAND PARANOIA and PERFIDIOUS ALBION! A country which demands a contract, agrees, signs to it and then refuses to honour it. We look worse than ridiculous, we look deceitful. Gentlemen, your places please. Boris Johnson is a clumsy, inept, disgraceful charlatan, con merchant and LIAR. A blustering master bullshit artist, the only decent thing about his recent secret wedding is that now he legally has one less bastard child.  

Recently I read that British people are displaying signs of Stockholm syndrome...in that they dislike those who hold power over them and make the rules but during the time of pandemic, they are the ones who will release the saviour vaccine and get everything moving again. So rather than rocking the boat and daring to express dissent at the DIABOLICAL handling of the last 18 months, they have mostly kept quiet and voted for the same endlessly failing, corrupt and venal politicians who made a bad situation far worse. (That said, it bears repeating that there are a few million in the UK who didn’t quite understand that that the spread of a highly contagious airborne virus can be slowed by the wearing of masks/applying basic hygiene and even took offence at being told what should have made sense to any adult homo SAPIENS half capable of cogitating for themselves. Morons and scum. Same where you are?

By the way BBC...the colossal dearth of stories about the endless government failures in relation to Covid, death, corruption and the NHS...ever since they blackmailed you with threats of revoking the TV licence fee and got you to change Directors has been noted. Long may Have I Got News For You continue the satire and balance needed in a DEMOCRACY. Obey your public servants? Why, when they do not serve few but themselves? Power OF the people? Which ones...the mob? The same bleating pricks who follow populists?

Four eyed beanpole fop Rees Mogg, with his wonderful line that the benefits of Brexit will be seen ‘over the next fifty years’...well yes, that is why most people vote in democratic elections eh?...So they will be dead or ancient before the change they hoped for comes...and the politicians who lead them now, will have all long moved on to revolving door chairman of the board offshore limited liability company paradise. Bread today jam tomorrow fairytales. What I tell you three times is true.  

O, but the English do so love to be told what to do by dumb posh boys who treat them like dirt. Some are forelock tugging and some are self flagellating middle class upper class wannabes who will never get there but still feel proud they are not street level proles. Doby the house elf alien hamster Michael Gove found guilty of breaking the law. Nothing. Internal inquiries run by those connected to the money changing hands find nothing illegal. Corruption for all to see...and ignore. ‘Well, what can we do?’ The uselessly inept serial failure Dido Harding to be in charge of the National Health Service? (she of the collapsed Woolworths, Talk Talk and the 22 BILLION pound loss of the Covid Track and Trace program where non working consultants/insultants, were paid 1000 pounds a day). American style privatisation is coming where only the wealthy or criminal can afford to be repaired and well. Sick.  

Meanwhile, All our imported nurses out, and all the lobster red fat Spanish costa de la sol criminals back in. Great exchange, fair trade and forward thinking. The Kremlin are manipulating/supporting Scottish independence... I read years ago about their base in Edinburgh for Russia Today (the foul insert in The Daily Telegraph) and they were already encouraging it. Rees Smug has accelerated and supported their freedom with his snobbish utterances on countries in the UK other than England and their ‘foreign languages’. With every patronising, arrogant pronouncement, the Eton trifles fuel the fire in Scotland which has a long bitter history of being tortured, murdered and subjugated by their southern masters. Perhaps the chumocracy in Downing Street believe the Celts to be as easily cowed as the middle and working classes down south. Here’s hoping not. ‘Rebellious Scots to crush’? Not this time pal.

As for the future of Britain? A dystopian open prison where the lower social classes toil only at the pleasure of their masters. The higher caste getting richer and all others cast into a living Hell of debt, crime, and sickness. Serve until you die and be thankful we allow you to exist. Increasing in utter irrelevance to the world, other than as an example of how wrong a former democracy can go. This future started decades ago...its baobab roots truly deep now. Better education and critical thinking for the masses in the UK (or anywhere else) is highly unlikely now. Optimism huh? As long as I am not in England, I will still be able to tap into it, but once enclosed long term in the group mind there...trapped in a grey quagmire. Keep smiling...

Several weeks ago, I watched a video on YT of apparently English protestors running after the police in London, some attacking and throwing things, one pulling off the pandemic mask of an officer and all shouting abuse at the outnumbered cops who had to keep pulling back. As always, to get my caffeine rush of fury going, I read the comments and was surprised to see two or three from Chinese names. Almost all comments were against the government (fair enough) and dumb against the lock down, masks, vaccinations etc. Checking again, I saw the video had been posted by CGTN...a media company owned and run by the communist party in Beijing...and not one author of diatribes had mentioned this, nor speculated with a critical thought as to why such an organisation might enjoy turning people against their own democratically elected government (however mind rippingly foul and corrupt they are).

I copy pasted the Wikipedia paragraph about the company onto the page and hoped someone else would make the connection. I wouldn’t mind so much IF there were a credible and decent alternative other than the diseased populist poison for which the demonstrating goons chant. China really cares about the standard of democracy in Britain eh? Persuade your enemies to weaken themselves. Destroying countries by encouraging their ‘patriots’.

(That was written on the anniversary of Tienanmen Square...a few days later Xi Jinping gave a speech saying ‘...a lovable and respectable’ China must be presented to the world and must ‘expand its circle of friends’. Tell that to your teenage ‘dissidents’, Muslims, Falun Gong and Tibetans being tortured and brainwashed in prisons or being used for organ harvesting. Tell it to Hong Kong and Taiwan.) 

Unholy America...against abortion and the pill, sex education’s not Gods will and in the Name of Christ they kill...if truth be known, we’ve failed the test...but Jesus was a Socialist and Republican conservatives hate them. The founding fathers of America were Very clear about separation of church and state with damn good Reason. Another part time Christian, Mike Pompeo wants to be president. Q Onan deepstorm morons/Kremlin stool pigeons aka POLEZNYYE IDIOTY continue to push for Trump and his Big Lie...He with the brain where ‘In the left, nothing is right and in the right, nothing’s left.’ Arf.

Over the last two decades, the dumb have been finding their voice and are now louder and prouder of their dumbass ignorance. 74 million in the US alone, their egos unable to retreat in the face of endless evidence to the contrary, they all double down. Like children sticking their fingers in their grimy ears sing songing ‘la la la can’t hear you’. 74 million versions of Eric Cartman, loud, proud and wrong. And uuff, Megan Markle,  Majorie Taylor Greene, walking Picasso collage (bad car driver) Caitlin Jenner and Ivana Trump in politics...not exactly holding a proud lantern for women eh? I’d like to buy them for what they are worth and sell them for what they think they are worth. Not very PC?  

That was the point. Could easily been written about all of the men written about here too. Next examples follow...

Tucker Carlson and Alex Jones compete for who can be as mentally ill as trump. The Miami school where the husband and wife directors told teachers not to return if they had HAD their vaccine shots because their proximity to students was interfering with menstrual cycles and uuuufff...The sickness of utter mind buggering stupidity. I had my first shot, now waiting to turn reptilian when the 5G masts triangulate my position. Fnord. Covid appears to be killing more overweight meat eating males than females...perhaps testosterone is not useful for the coming Race of non binary mutant hermaphrodites...and look out for the end of the Y chromosome, coming to a temporary universe near you...in 4.6 million years. Yes, really.  

Glad Netanyahu is out at last, smug corruption is never a good look unless one is a rich criminal. Ha.  The Promised land of Israel...If I was in court for serial murder, breaking, entering and stealing and then defended my actions by saying that God had told me to do it, would the Judge; A. Call for a psychiatric report, B. Disregard the statement as unprovable and pass the appropriate sentence, C, say Ok mate, you’re free to go, good luck to you. ? Moses had a good schtick.

The law is only to punish the poor, do you feel as if you suffer from empathy? Once you know, you no longer need to believe. What does ‘reality’ seem to be? The more certain you are, the stupider you get and belief is the death of intelligence. The machine is running the engineers. What is the definition of rationality...the quality of being based on or in accordance with reason or logic. 

Nothing is, but thinking makes it so. Epicurus.  

EVERYTHING NOT COMPULSORY IS FORBIDDEN.

The glamour illusion of the mass of pointless hot influencers needs a constant renewing of the Banishing Ritual as much as all the pigslop bile coming from Fox News and Sky. Bloody long haired commie liberal faggot they cry against any not identical to them. Some days I have only flamethrowers of hatred for these idiots. Other days...not exactly self doubt, just questions...most of us seem to believe our opinions are more valid when there are emotions connected to them. Including me. Again, this seems like a very weak version of ‘truth’, unless disciplined, channeled and focused to a certain end.

Life appears to exist in order to become via chaos.

Most of us are working only not to be homeless, some because of the joy in our chosen work regardless of finances. Until ‘reality’ kicks in the door...the bondage gets tighter when you struggle. How much hardship is the individual willing to endure these days by choice? Surrounded by a universe of distraction and destruction, Maya mewling for our attention. Five years of Trump, rampant populism and Brexit doing a Hexagram 23 on democracy, compounded by the pandemic...all on top of ‘normal’ daily life. The ego feeds and the immune system breaks down. Hard to ignore without being on a mountain or in a parallel dimension and emotion free other than compassion. But BY GODDESS IT CAN AND WILL BE DONE. Ladies of Life Nin Khursag, Isis, Kali, Aradia...Love one, Love ALL. At very least have respect for thyself but be not thou proud of thine arrogance nor thy suffering.  

Or just Remember where you came from, what you were, seem to be and will become.

Heal, heal, more work to do, more love to give, more love to feel, Heal. Stay in drugs, eat your school and don’t do vegetables. Impose your own reality upon and through yourself, breathe, exhale, repeat, and continue, LOVE UNDER WILL. Experience and absorb but ‘It’s a house of tricks, ignore the world’’.

Stay well, be seeing you:-)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Every time I tell myself I’ll post at 8:30, I get distracted *face palms*)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3

Chapter 4- Already Hurt

Y/n crossed her legs, looking away, her dark sunglasses blocking out the warm yellow rays. For probably the fifth time that hour, she used the joint of her thumb to push them further up the bridge of her nose. That was another one of her telling habits. It was, as it always was in Chicago, windy and from her seat on the cafe’s patio dining area, Y/n could hear the ever existent bustle of traffic; blaring horns in the distance and the hum of moving vehicles. Still, the noise wasn’t enough to drown her thoughts, or the words that she didn’t particularly want to hear.

It was her fault. She was wrong. She was the jerk, the asshole, whatever you wanted to call it.

It wasn’t something that Y/n didn’t already know and it wasn’t a difficult deduction either, but coming from her own father, it kind of stung. “Are you even listening to me?” His familiar baritone broke her thoughts and Y/n was forced to turn back to him, sitting across from her at the round wicker table. Her father, she hadn’t gotten much from him when it came to defining features, some people said they had the same nose, but she never saw it. Y/n had gotten other things though; fame and a name in the industry. Roger was a director, not a director like Jackson though, sure, Jackson was considered a genius in his genre, but Roger had excelled in several, accolades populated the shelves of his Los Angeles home and he was a favorite among the critics. He was a good man too, Y/n was lucky to have him as a father, even if he hadn’t been there for half her childhood.

“Of course I’m listening dad,” she sighed, trying to fully redirect her attention, picking at the sleeve of her disposable coffee cup. After Luke had left, she had called Roger, practically begging him to come to Chicago, craving his advice. He’d know what to do, he always did.

Well, most of the time. 

Always would imply that he’d never been wrong. And boy had he been wrong, one telling example; his marriage.  

“It doesn’t look like you’re listening,” Y/n could almost see the pointed look that he’d blocked out via his own shades. Taking a swing of his black coffee, Roger paused before he continued, “You wanted my advice, and that’s it.”

“Listen to my heart, was your advice dad,” needless to say, it wasn’t the fatherly wisdom that Y/n had been seeking when she called him on Saturday, “I want,” she gestured with her hands, not really knowing what words would be right, “I want you to tell me what to do.”

Roger chuckled quietly, shaking his head, “Kiddo, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he sighed, his expression sobered once more and he leaned forward a little, planting an elbow on the table top, “Look, I love you, you know that, and I’ll always want the best for you, but this time around, you’re the only one who knows what that is. What I can tell you is that if you really loved Luke, then you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“I never said that I loved Luke,” Y/n grumbled despondently.

“My point exactly,” at that, Y/n frowned, looking down at her lap. Truthfully, she understood what he meant, if she really was committed to Luke, then what happened with Keanu wouldn’t have been possible, what she felt for Keanu wouldn’t have existed either. But Y/n had stringed him along, and then broken his heart.

“I’m just like her, aren’t I?” Behind her shades, she blinked away tears, taking another sip from her cup, hoping to swallow her emotions. 

Roger sighed heavily, reaching across the table for Y/n’s hand, squeezing affectionately, “You’re mother’s a good woman,” he reminded her. Often, Y/n would wonder if he actually meant that when he said it. 

“A good woman that broke your heart,” dragging her lower lip through her teeth. The memories were ones that she easily recalled; her father leaving for months on end for work and her mother, Elaine,  bringing her fifth grade math teacher to their home, telling her that it was a secret that she’d have to keep from her father. At ten, Y/n didn’t really understand, but she’d kept her mouth shut. But, as all dark secrets do, it eventually came out. Roger had come home early to surprise Elaine for their anniversary, only to find them lounging in the pool, in the backyard of the house he’d built for them. The whole thing had turned into a loud verbal exchange; she blamed him for never being there, he accused her of not appreciating everything he’d done for their family. In the end, Roger had left, but even through their muddy divorce, Y/n had clung to his side, and as she grew into a woman, she’d started blaming her mother for his loneliness and hurt, promising herself that she’d never be like that. 

Shaking his head, Roger passed a hand over his short, graying hair, “This isn’t about me,” that was enough to tell Y/n that he didn’t want to get into the less than favorable memories and that he was ready to change the topic, “This about you, you and Luke and…..” Though she’d told him a lot about the last two weeks, Y/n had intentionally neglected Keanu’s name, it was bad enough that she’d cheated, she didn’t want to imagine what her father’s reaction would be when would be if he found out it was someone just over thirty years her senior. 

Patiently, Roger awaited Y/n’s response, hoping she’d at least drop a name, but instead she just dismissed it with a short wave, “Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t see me like that anyway,” audibly, Y/n exhaled, her thoughts running to Keanu, how much it really hurt knowing that he didn’t see her the way she’d started seeing him. Y/n was never expecting to feel like that, she’d thought that after Luke left, she’d miss him more, but in the days passed, she’d missed Keanu more. Sure, they’d tried to return to some semblance of what they shared before, but they had found that even without a third party involved, things just weren’t the same, there was something about seeing your friend naked that changed everything.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Roger didn’t need Y/n to say it to know how upsetting the whole situation was for her, he wasn’t willing to discount what she’d done, and even if he had never met Luke, from the stories he had heard, Roger knew he was a good man. But still, Y/n was his daughter, his pride and joy, and he’d always have some kind of sympathy for her, no matter what she’d done. So, even if she was a grown woman and he could no longer fix her problems, he’d still support her. 

Keanu’s eyes were trained on the script, though he wasn’t exactly reading it. The words all seemed jumbled and uninteresting and his mind foggy and clouded with confusing thoughts, most of them involving Y/n. After brunch, he’d hung out with her a couple times, but things had felt awkward and lacking. Her words, much like his, were totally counteractive to her actions, Y/n kept reminding him that things were okay between them, but had declined his offers to meet in his room and as such, they had only met in neutral places; the hotel’s restaurant, a cafe that they both liked near where they were filming and of course, on set. She’d even refused to have breakfast with him that morning. 

Even though they kept assuring each other that things were okay, Keanu could tell they weren’t, and worse yet, he was positive that something was up with Y/n, she had actively brushed off his concern, but Keanu could tell; she was way quieter than usual and she seemed far away most times, deep in thought. He wondered if it had anything to do with Luke’s abrupt departure.

With a heavy sigh,  Keanu closed the script, casting his gaze to the city, visible from his place on the balcony, Lake Michigan not too far off in the distance. Truthfully, it had become a little annoying to think about her that much, especially when he couldn’t really assign a feeling to the thoughts. Everything was just so muddled and confusing and it didn’t help that he could barely tell how she felt. Keanu wished that it could be easier, or at the very least, he could talk to someone about what was going through his head. But alas, the last thing he wanted was for his mother or his sisters to give him a lecture on how he shouldn’t have even been hanging around someone Y/n’s age.  

“Ugh,” he groaned audibly, tossing the script to the glass topped coffee table stationed next to the wicker lounge chair. Leaning forward, Keanu planted his bare feet on either side of the chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. Raking his hands through his hair, Keanu swung his left leg over, moving to collect his stuff and head inside. Maybe he could head to the hotel’s gym, spend a few hours there with his headphones in; that should clear his head.

For what felt like the millionth time since she’d laid down, Y/n turned, that time laying on her stomach, draping an arm on the cold pillow next to her. The position was comfortable, for all of five minutes, and unfortunately, within those five minutes, she couldn’t fall asleep. Groaning, annoyed, she rolled again, coming face to face with the alarm clock, which only seemed to mock her plight. In bold green, the time read as 2:57. There she was, at nearly three am, unable to catch a wink of sleep. 

Groaning, Y/n shoved the covers down slightly, finally settling on her back. It wasn’t like she wasn’t tired, she was, her body was heavy from ten grueling hours of filming; they hadn’t stopped until it was nearly one in the morning and even if they wouldn’t be cooperative and stay shut, Y/n’s eyes burned. The problem wasn’t physical, it was mental. All Y/n could think about was everything that had happened in the past two weeks; the kiss they had tried to brush off, the night she had spent with Keanu, Luke walking out on her, how guilty she felt and finally,  her father’s words, telling her that he couldn’t do much more than offer her a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. 

It all swam around Y/n’s head, the thoughts bombarding each other and eventually coming together in the collective agreement that they would keep her awake, even if she had work the next day.  With a defeated huff, she sat up, dragging her fingers through the mess that was her hair. Briefly, she wondered, if by some long shot, Keanu was awake too.

Don’t think about him.

The reminder took her by surprise and Y/n absently shook her head. She’d been trying to do that recently, telling herself to not think of him when they weren’t together, just so she could bury whatever it was that she felt for him. But it was never to any avail, Keanu had continued to be one of the constants on her mind. It was becoming a pain, especially when she knew that he probably wasn’t even thinking of her.

That hurt.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n swung her legs off the bed, discarding the sheets and stripping as she walked towards an open suitcase. She needed to clear her head, and she knew just where she wanted to do that. 

Slowly, Y/n changed out of her pajamas, into a powder blue bikini, a cute one that pushed her breasts together, with a decorative knot in the center and an inch of loose ruffles beneath the cups. The bottoms were simple in comparison, sporting a regular cut though still boasting a scandalous amount of skin. Y/n threw on a floral printed, black and white cover-up over her ensemble, grabbing her phone and key card as she headed out.

She’d been to the hotel’s interior pool a few times before since they’d been there, but Y/n had quickly found that she preferred it in the dead of night, when most of the other guests were asleep or just flat out uninterested in an impromptu swim. That way, she could have it to herself. It was the perfect place to unwind and clear one’s head. 

Like the rest of the hotel, the room with the awning pool painted the perfect picture of modern luxury; high ceilings and marble floors, the tiny lights embedded into the ceiling  dancing on the seemingly blue water. Because it was so late, Y/n was naturally expecting to have the pool to herself, prepared to swim a couple laps and maybe lounge in the water for a while, though, when she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette doing the same, she swore quietly, “Fuck!” The lonesome swear echoed, drawing his attention.

She hadn’t seen him since leaving set earlier and she certainly wasn’t planning on running into him at the hotel’s pool. She was trying to not think of him, not give her brain more material to work with. 

“Y/n? Hey,” Keanu stood, the water coming up just past his waist, the long, vertical scar on his stomach taking on a light shine and his black swimming trunks barely covering strong thighs was visible in the low lighting. As he waded closer to her end, he brushed wet, dark hair out of his face. “Couldn’t sleep huh?” 

Y/n inhaled nervously, of all the men in the world she had to be alone with the one who could rile her up with just a look. Stepping back a little, ready to turn and go back to her room, Y/n gripped the neck of her cover-up, “Yeah,” she agreed, “You probably wanted to be alone,” she rambled, “I’ll leave.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can leave,” Keanu folded his arms on the tiled edge.

Y/n shook her head again, “No,” she dismissed, “You were here first. I’ll just go,” without waiting for him to object, Y/n was turning around and walking towards the door.

“Wait!” He called after her, surprising Y/n. When she turned again, Keanu had stepped back a bit, his arms spread out on either side, “Let’s not be ridiculous this thing is huge. Just get in, we can keep our hands to ourselves,” he joked lightly.

Y/n mulled on Keanu’s offer for a minute. There was no reason for one of them to leave, not really. Friends shared pools all the time, they were friends. Besides, a couple weeks ago, they wouldn’t have even given something like that a second thought before getting in. 

She smiled tightly, walking over to one of the sleek lounge chairs, discarding her key card and cell, “Why not?”

It was wrong, but Keanu kept his eyes on her as Y/n’s lithe fingers went to the knot holding her ensemble together, sucking in a sharp breath when she undid it at an unhurried pace. The thin fabric slid off her shoulders, revealing the two-piece she was wearing underneath, something below the water twitching appreciatively. If she looked good when he was drunk, she looked absolutely beguiling then. Y/n didn’t let the material fall, instead catching it with her fingers and draping it on the chair.

For a hot minute, Keanu looked on, entranced by the way the blue bikini top exaggerated the fullness of her cleavage and how the skimpy panties hugged her hips. The little stud at her navel winked, teasing him. Keanu wasn’t sure if Y/n noticed his staring, but his hooded gaze stayed on her as she sashayed towards the pool, down the impressive steps.  

The water was deep enough to cover her above the stomach and while he continued standing there, trying to shake himself out of the moment, Y/n disappeared beneath the clear blue, swimming around him, her legs gently paddling around him, before she reemerged a few feet away. Keanu paddled backwards in return, trying to put a bit more space between them. 

Y/n’s wet hair clung to her skin, some of it sticking to her shoulders and neck, though none of it was enough to cover the exposed parts of her boobs and Keanu had to keep reminding himself to not check her out. Clearing his throat, he searched for something to fill the silence, the little splashing noises just weren’t cutting it, “So,” he dragged his lower lip through his teeth, “How did the meeting with your manager go?”

Y/n furrowed her brows for a minute, almost forgetting that she’d told Keanu that she was meeting with Walter instead of telling him that she was meeting with her father, “Oh!” Her eyes lit up in recognition, “Yeah, it was okay. He just wanted to…..tell me about a prospective contract.”

That was probably the worst lie she’d ever told.

“Ah,” Keanu nodded slowly, sensing her trouble with the subject, “Wanna talk about it?”

Well, she really couldn’t, considering it didn’t exist. Y/n’s mind went wild looking for a way to change the subject, eventually only turning up with a foolish, childish strategy. Without Keanu noticing, she reared on hand back, biting back a smirk as she splashed him, a tiny wave hitting him square in the face, “Nope,” she popped her lips at the last leg of the word. 

“Wow,” Keanu chuckled quietly, “That’s very mature of you,” he teased, just before retaliating. Y/n stumbled back in surprise when Keanu splashed her with a slightly bigger wave. 

“Talk about maturity,” Y/n playfully rolled her eyes, her grin matching his. For a bit, as they continued like that, things felt the way they did before, comfortable and like they could just be together without worrying. She didn’t realize much she truly missed Keanu until those moments spent in the pool, going to and fro in a splash war. Their laughs bounced off the marble walls, and they both tried to ‘one up’ each other. 

“You’re so bad at this,” Keanu jeered, making Y/n stumble again.

“Me?” She shot back incredulously, stopping for a minute, “It’s not my fault your hands are fucking huge. You obviously have an unfair advantage.”

Keanu scoffed his laughter, “I beg to differ, this is a game of strategy, not brawn, little one.”

Y/n was about to spat something about how he was wrong, argue that his size did give him an advantage, but his last words left her speechless; her eyebrows raised and her lips ajar. Little one. Why did she like the sound of that? 

Within a few seconds, Keanu seemed to realize what he’d said too, his smile fading. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out and that certainly wasn’t the kind of nickname someone gave a friend, “Y/n,” he began, ready to apologize and explain that he hadn’t meant anything by it, “I’m-”

“Luke left me,” she blurted out, cutting him off, for some reason thinking that would help him relax. The air around them seemed to change yet again, though that time it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was just tense. The kind of tense that subconsciously made Keanu step closer. As he did though, Y/n walked backwards, not really to get away from him, but to see if he’d followed her. Something in her mind wanted to know how far he’d go. 

“When?” Keanu frowned, not knowing if she wanted comfort, pity or for him to continue their not so PG game of cat and mouse.

“Saturday,” she managed, moistening her lips. Keanu could see her eyes grow darker as he drew closer. He liked seeing her like that, all small, sexy and easy for him to just snatch up, “After brunch.”

The rough wall of the pool hit her back, catching her by surprise and before she knew it, Keanu was merely a few inches away from her, their bodies so close she could feel his heat but not touching. “Why?” Reaching out, Keanu used the tip of his finger to brush some stray hair away from her face, his feather light, barely there touch, sending shivers up her spine.

“He thinks there’s something going on between us,” the breathy admission escaped her lips and Y/n could see that like hers, Keanu’s pupils were dilated, his whiskey eyes darker than usual. Their proximity was blurring. Half of her  wanted things to go further while the other told her than they needed to stop. She knew which half she was leaning towards.

“Is there?” Keanu tilted his head, his gaze roaming the visible parts of her body, his fingers itching to skim her curves.

“You said there wasn’t.”

“So did you,” Keanu shot back, without missing a beat. When Y/n couldn’t come up with a response, Keanu spoke again, his voice gravely and low, “What do you want, little one?” That time, the words were intentional and Y/n’s breath hitched and she had to press her thighs together.

“I…..” Nothing of substance came and when her silence went on for too long, Keanu cocked a wicked smirk, turning to leave, “Where are going?” 

“I told you that I’d keep my hands to myself tonight,” he shrugged, already padding up the steps of the pool grabbing a towel to dry himself off, “I like to keep my promises,” he winked and Y/n couldn’t help but be a bit frustrated. 

With the fluffy white fabric had lapped up most of the water, Keanu pulled on a pair of low riding sweatpants over his damp swimming trucks, though that was the very least of Y/n’s problems. Without another word, Keanu threw on an old t-shirt and roped the towel around his neck, gripping the ends as he walked away, “Keanu?” Y/n called after him, prompting Keanu to pause to look at her, “Would you have fucked me like that if we were sober?”

Cocking a confident grin, “No,” he chuckled, “I would have fucked you way better.”

*********

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine​

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

The notes come deep from your stomach, drawing out between your lips. Tonight, tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you sing.    “Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face, so the world will never find you….”   You don’t know why you feel so emotional. Why the Phantom’s heartbreak and misery feels like your own. But you put your heart and soul into each lyric, and the director isn’t furious at the different take of the song, of how your voice even warbles past the thick lump forming in your throat. After all, the performance tonight is one of the most important ones that’s happening in a long time.   “Did the critic say anything yet?!”   “I don’t know, but she’s talking with the director right now.”   “Oh my god. This could change everything,” she squeals, the two of them equally excited and peeking out of the curtains. Everyone is gathered together, supporting roles and backstage members watching the audience slowly trickling out. “Do you know what this means?!”   “Of course, I know what it means,” she snaps.    “Well, I’m just saying.” The other girl pouts. “If the critic gives a good review, we could be back in business. More people coming, more money, better production, more pay! This place will become less like a dump. I won’t have to be embarrassed when I say I’m part of the female ensemble for Phantom anymore.”   “Let’s just hope the director won’t screw it up.”   “He won’t….right?”   “Shut up, they’re coming!” Everyone quickly resumes their previous activities to appear nonchalant.    “—And this is just our backstage crew. It’s a very modest set, but we do our best and everyone is very hardworking. Every person here does their part—” Director Kang is with a black bob-haircut lady who’s four foot eleven with kitten heels. She reminds you of your fourth grade science teacher who would make the rowdy kids cry.   Her cat-like eyes are narrowed in, and she grips her bag strap slung over one shoulder as she views the place with an impassive expression. The director drones on and on and the critic sighs before someone catches her attention.   She approaches the godly man. “You must be Kim Seokjin.”   “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you…”   “Min Yoonji.” She shakes his hand, and you muse that she must be one of the rare people in the world that doesn’t seem affected by Jin’s handsomeness. Almost everyone is starstruck by him. “I must say, your performance is very spectacular. Especially your singing. The tone quality of your vocals is very outstanding for Broadway theater.”   All at once, your breath hitches. Your heart stutters. Tears form in your eyes again.   You’re standing in the shadow of the curtains, in the corner where others are walking past, but to hear praise from someone who makes a living scrutinizing...it’s a beacon of hope.   “Of course! You shouldn’t expect any less of me.” Seokjin laughs and almost brushes off the compliment in spite of how touched and grateful you feel.   Yoonji isn’t amused and deadpans, “Frankly, I didn’t expect anything.”   “Seokjin’s the star of our show!” The director puts his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, trying to uplift the mood. The critic was awfully difficult to read. “Without him, we wouldn’t be able to go on! Speaking of which, you should meet our other star. Where’s Taeyeo—”   “Can I look around for a second? You’re really invading my personal space here,” the woman states bluntly and the men are alarmed at once, stepping back.   “O-Of course. My apologies. How about I get you some water?”   “Sure.”   The director struts off with Seokjin — the both of them furiously murmuring to each other in panic and before he can bark at you to go get the best glass of chilled water, the girl gossiping from earlier shuffles to them. She’s more than enthusiastic about running this sort of errand — perhaps hoping that she’ll be noticed by the critic or something of the sort.   You commemorate her for taking every opportunity.    “Hey, you.”   Your thoughts are shattered at once and you tear your eyes away from them to the short female in front of you. Your pupils widen. “Can you scratch my back for me?”   “Pardon?”   “Here.” She turns slightly, never repeating herself twice. Your hand automatically lifts out to scratch and her neck lolls. “Higher. Lower. Right there. God. Feels good.” Once satisfied, the posh woman steps away. “It’s been driving me crazy for the past hour and I haven’t been able to reach it.”   “Uh...you’re welcome…”   “Min Yoonji,” she says lifelessly. “But you probably already know that. Seems like everyone’s excited to meet me here. Don’t even get this treatment when I go home.”   Yoonji sighs and steps away, but you stop her. “I’m Y/N.” The female turns around. “L/N Y/N.”   She nods and stares at you blankly as if wondering why she should care what your name is. But since you scratched her back, she entertains you. “What do you do here, Y/N?”   “Sweeping, mainly.”   “Sweeping?” The corner of her red-stained mouth curls and she scans the premise. “What’s there to sweep?”   “Beats me,” you laugh.   A small, modest smile comes across her features. It’s the most genuine conversation she’s had here so far. “So all you do is sweep?”   “Well, I’m actually the voice of Pha—”   “Y/N!”   You’re interrupted by an abrupt yell from the director, the sound bellowing deep from his stomach. He approaches with a stiff grin that nearly breaks his face, Taeyeon in tow. “What are you doing here? Slacking, are we?” He comes next to you and practically bumps you aside. “This is our shy intern. She’s part of the backstage crew. Get on now!”   He shoos you away like you’re a stray dog, and you open your mouth. But the director moves on to introduce the female star of the show and Yoonji shifts her attention away from you without qualms. “This is Taeyeon. She plays Christine.”   “Yes.” The lights behind her eyes dim like earlier. “I saw. I was in the audience.”   They shake hands, continuing to speak. You’re forgotten in the dark as they move away from you, walking towards the dressing room.   One of the girls walking past shoots you a dirty look and scoffs, “Did you really think you could tell her that you’re a ghost singer? You really want to sabotage us?”   That wasn’t your intention.    But it wouldn’t be a lie if you told her that you stand in place of Seokjin, that you deserved that praise she handed to him.   It’s not a lie.   Once the meeting is over and everyone escorts the critic out, the director passes by and discreetly mutters into your ear, “In my office.”   You drag your feet there, feeling the crew members stares, the looks from those with supporting roles. This time, no one smirks, murmurs, or makes snide comments. It’s serious enough that they don’t dare to do anything unnecessary for fear of being reprimanded by the director too.   Getting called into his office is never a good thing.   You walk in and two minutes later, he enters, sees you and sighs. The man rounds to his messy desk and sits himself down.   “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N,” he starts off.    “I’m sorry.”   He hums, hands clasping together. “When you went behind my back to audition, I didn’t say anything. I get it. You want to try out, I won’t stop you. But to think you have the audacity to betray me right in front of my face is a kind of disrespect I won’t allow.”   “That—! That wasn’t what I was trying to do,” you weakly defend, hands crumpling into a tight fist. He obviously doesn’t believe you.    “Then what was your intention?” He shakes his head. It’s a question you can’t answer. It was reckless for you to let it slip, especially to someone who’s a critic. It’s supposed to be a secret, one you’ll have to die with. “I understand you’re not a loyal employee, but it hurts me. What have I ever done for you to go behind my back and be this sneaky?”   Another rhetorical question.   With a downcast head, you stare at the way your worn shoes are pulling apart at the seams. You swallow hard, past the thick lump in your throat. Your eyes begin to sting. You’re humiliated.    “I gave you this job because you were pitiful. You think we need an intern around here?” His mocking laugh rings. “No! But I, out of the goodness of my own heart, decided to help you! I even let you sing when you begged for it! Have I not bent over backwards for you?!”   You shut your eyes for a second. “Y-You did, sir.”   “How many years have you been stuck in New York?” It’s a sudden question, one where he expects an answer for.   Your teeth grit and you murmur, “One year, sir.”   “How many casting calls have you been to, Y/N?” At your silence, he asks you again. “Be honest with me. How many since you got here?”   “T-Ten.”   “How many roles have you gotten?”   “None,” you whisper quietly and your jaw clenches.   He asks again just so you can hear yourself, for you to repeat it. “None?”   “None.”   “None!” he exclaims loudly, enough for you to wince, and he sighs. “See?”   The man feigns sympathy. “There’s a point where it becomes more than just singing. It’s about if you have something special. You just don’t have it, Y/N. Yes, you can hold a steady note, but you can’t be on stage. No one would ever want to watch you!”   It’s grating to your ears. A muscle in your cheek twitches. You can’t hold it in — you start sniffling.   And the director sighs once more, spinning around slowly in his swivel chair while you’re still standing there, hugging your own frame. “Don’t make me into the bad guy, Y/N. I don’t want to be so blunt, but you give me no choice. Facts are facts. Why do you have to be tricky with me and ruin this production? Are you that upset with me? Angry with me?”   “N-No.”   “Then why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Is this job not more than enough for you? Why must you keep trying?”   You rub your eyes. He continues tantalizing you for another minute and then looks at your patheticness and dismisses you out of guilt. He tells you to think about what he said.   You leave sobbing. Not out of anguish from him belittling you but out of rage.    Not even your own mother talks down to you like that.   This job a privilege?! You can’t believe you hypnotized yourself into believing that. This job is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s sabotaged you. People like him are the reasons you’re afraid of going on stage.   Once you exit the studio in tears, you find the black bob-haircut woman texting on her phone across the street, standing on the sidewalk. You look both ways and cross the road with stern determination.   Spite — contempt — resentment makes you into an ugly monster without remorse or consideration of future consequences. You inhale a staggering breath. And the truth is spat out.   “I’m the ghost singer for Phantom.”    Your voice breaks. You exhale. “I’m the one who you heard.”   Min Yoonji is alert. Her eyes are wide, looking back into yours.   You brush past her after a second, walking away and down the street.   //   You don’t know where you’re going. Your feet merely stumble forward, down busy Times Square till it becomes quieter and the streets are only known by locals. Your strides slow at a cozy coffee shop in search of a place that’s warmer, but as you look through the front windows, you find a blonde standing in line.   Your brows furrow and you sniffle one last time before opening the door.    “Taehyung?”   The tall, lean man turns around and a boxy smile spreads into his face. “Y/N?”   He must notice your glossy eyes and how you’re sniveling not just from the cold weather because he buys you a hot chocolate and asks if you’re alright. You nod, not wanting to talk about your issues, and he understands enough to switch the conversation to himself.   Taehyung’s presence makes you warmer.    “I just didn’t understand. He said yes and agreed he would go to the animal shelter and walk the dogs every week, but then changed his mind and then threw the job to me.” He sighs with a smile, tugging on the sleeve of his blue dress shirt. “I don’t mind, I actually love dogs, but that’s not the point. I swear my director’s so nice he can’t say no to anything. And then I’m the one who suffers when he decides he doesn’t want to do it.”   “Is that how you wound up doing improv?”   “Yes.” He grins and sips his drink.   You hum, fingertips warm against the paper cup. “So you have to walk dogs every week at the animal shelter?”   “Yes, and I’m also volunteering at the homeless shelter every other day during lunch. I don’t mind, but again, it was because the director couldn’t say no to other people. God,” Taehyung laughs, “He’s such a pushover. But I’m the real pushover for saying yes to him too.”   “Your director sounds like a really nice person.” You smile to yourself, wishing you had met someone like that.   “Nice or stupidly kind, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “But he’s an alright guy. Though half the time I feel like I’m just a servant to his whims.”   A deep exhale draws out of your lungs. “I know how that feels.”   Taehyung’s gaze is perceptive and he puts down his drink. “It’s tough to make it in this industry. But it’s like that for everything, I think. There’s nothing really easy out there. Even sleeping gets hard. So….don’t be so tough on yourself.”   “Thanks, Taehyung…”   He might not know what your job entails, but he has a good enough idea — and his intuition isn’t wrong.   The pair of you chat a while more. Taehyung unknowingly comforts you the entire time. And an hour later, he bids farewell and you reluctantly part with him.   He was the only good part of your day.   //   You’re sure your situation has happened before. There’s almost seven and a half billion people in this world now. The chances aren’t unlikely that someone out there knows how you feel — maybe it’s someone who wants to desperately go to medical school and they helped tutor another student after they begged, and that person ended up becoming the doctor instead.   Jealousy and anger isn’t seldom in life. But you’ve thrown so many pity parties for yourself.   You’re tired of it when you’re the host and the only guest.    There’s bad music at these pity parties, and it’s not like you know how to dance either.    But you don’t know how to help your shitty situation. You thought you’ve long lost all your pride after being stepped on so many times. It’s only now that you’ve been shoved again that you realize you still have dignity left — that maybe it’s time to pack your bags and go home….   The doorbell rings not even five minutes after you get back to your apartment. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically, but you drag your feet to open the door.   The person you want to see the least in the world shows up in front of you once again.   “Jimin…”   “Hey!” He gives a bright smile, so happy and radiant that it’s blinding. He’s excited and you’re not sure why. “Can I come in?”   “Um…” You hesitate, only parting the door enough for him to see both your eyes. “I...It’s kind of messy here.”   “Promise, it’ll be quick,” he insists while running a hand through his brunette hair, moving the strands back. He’s dressed in his black hoodie, pants ripped at the knees, dark bag slung over his shoulder. It’s new. Expensive. “It’s important.”   You reluctantly widen the door and Jimin enters with a grin, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. Completely disregarding your expression of distaste. Ignorant to your unwilling body language.   It’s always about him.   “It’s pretty late.” But one thing Jimin does notice is that you’re not in your usual pajamas. “Did you end up working overtime?”   “No. I met with Taehyung.”   Jimin stops and turns around, his eyes rounded. “You...met with Taehyung?”   You frown in annoyance. Who does he think he is coming into your home and asking so many questions?    “I ran into him.”   “Oh. Did you end up going anywhere?”   “A coffee shop.”   Jimin nods. “What did you guys talk about?”   Your eyes narrow into slits. “Why does it matter?”   He shrugs with a small pout, trying to play off his concerns casually. “He just doesn’t seem like...that great of a guy.”   “He’s really nice to me.”   “I’m nice to you,” Jimin mutters out of the corner of his mouth.    And you immediately scoff. Openly. Loudly.   You don’t even hold back from rolling your eyes.    “Why are you asking so many questions? It makes you sound like you’re jealous, Jimin,” you tell him, distraught, unable to comprehend why you were being interrogated. You hold your ground, strengthening yourself not to back down.    You won’t let yourself be strung along and stepped on. Not anymore.   “Well….” The boy in front of you inhales a deep breath and looks right at you. “Maybe I am jealous.”   “What? Why?”    You don’t understand — you’re the jealous one.    But his response and following silence only continues your bafflement and puzzlement.    The two of you are standing at the entrance way of your apartment, uncomfortable like strangers. That’s right...you are strangers.   You inhale a staggering breath, breaking the suffocating tension before he can answer your confused question. “Can’t you—…..” Your voice is timid and hesitant, but then you pause and speak louder to make sure he can hear you. “Can’t you stop bothering me, Jimin?”   “W-What?”   “Please, just leave me alone.” Your head drops. You can’t bear looking at him anymore. You don’t know why you have to beg to be left alone, why he’s invaded even the comfort of your own home. Why wasn’t there an escape from Park Jimin? “We’re not in a relationship. We’re not dating. I don’t even consider you a friend. You’re…..overbearing and every time I see you, it….pisses me off.”   He steps forward, undoubtedly bewildered at where this was coming from.   Jimin reaches out in distraught, but you move away from his possible grasps. As if his touch would sear your skin. He immediately curls his fingers into his palm, retracing his arm.   “I’m sorry. I never wanted to upset you. Just...W-what did I do, Y/N?”   “You never. once. had any consideration for me. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.”    It’s an out-of-body experience. You can see yourself having a meltdown but you can’t stop it. You can’t stop the truth from over boiling where you’ve kept it confined. You’re tired of trying so hard not to hurt people when you’ve been so hurt yourself.    “Do you want to know why I sing backstage? Do you want to know why I’m someone’s ghost singer? It’s because I have massive stage fright. It’s really, really bad.”   “Y/N….”   Jimin’s shocked.    He opens his mouth before closing it, rendered speechless. His brows are furrowed deep enough to look like it hurts, a permanent wrinkle creasing where the knot on his features are.    “I always feel like I’m getting a heart attack half the time and I can’t breathe and it started when I was in high school when my voice broke during a performance and everyone laughed at me. It’s horrible and I still think about it a lot — and I didn’t want to go to that improv class.”   You’re hyperventilating, chest constricting painfully. It aches. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to perform in front of other people, but you made me do it. You pushed me.”   “I’m s-sorry…” Jimin murmurs, swallowing hard, not knowing what to do. “I didn’t know…”   “I didn’t want to help you either. And I shouldn’t have,” you mutter past the thick lump in your throat, pained, ignoring how your voice cracks under the pressure, “I shouldn’t have taught you how to sing in the first place, even when you begged me. I….didn’t want to.”   You sharply inhale, but it’s never enough to stop feeling that you’re drowning.    “And now that you succeeded, it pisses me off. I’m the one who’s been here longer. But I’m the one who’s left behind. Who’s still working that shit ass job! Every time you open your mouth to talk about how great it’s going, it’s really hard for me. But you keep doing it. And it’s not like I want to feel this. I don’t want to be jealous. I don’t want this feeling. I don’t want you here!”   There’s an extended silence.   You gasp for air while Jimin searches your expression, equally hurt. You tear your eyes away from him — diverting your vision — unable to bear looking at him. “Just leave, please.”   You walk forward and he stumbles back as you yank the door open.    “W-Wait!” Jimin holds the edge of the door before you can shut it. “Y/N, wait!”   “What?” You half-hiss, half-sob at him, at wits end. You want him gone. Gone so you can crawl underneath your covers. Gone so you won’t be able to compare yourself to anyone. Gone so you can forget how pathetic you feel. “What could you possibly want to say to me, Jimin?”   “I...I just came here because I wanted to tell you that I managed to buy you this ticket.” Jimin pulls the slip of paper from out of his pocket. It’s crinkled at the edges as if he’s been holding onto it tightly. He hands you the slip and you take it without thinking. “I-It was hard to get. I-I...I’m sorry.”   You look at it. It’s his show, Les Mis, a middle row seat.   This is why he wanted to talk to you today. This was what was so important.    It’s a gift.   You swallow hard and Jimin lowers his head in shame, murmuring, “You don’t have to go. I-I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt about me. I’ll go now. I won’t bother you anymore.”   He leaves before you can say anything, before he can say anything more.   Jimin’s door shuts and then yours follows suit.   Guilt eats you alive as you stand in the middle of your deafeningly silent apartment with the Broadway ticket in your hand.

[dweemeister]

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (final round)

(Yet again, tumblr has not fixed bullet indentations. So this post doesn’t look as clean on your dashboards.)

TAGGING (among others): @addaellis, @cokwong, @emilylime5, @halfwaythruthedark, @idontknowmuchaboutmovies, @introspectivemeltdown, @maximiliani, @memetoilet, @monkeysmadeofcheese, @myluckyerror, @plus-low-overthrow, @shootingstarvenator, @themusicmoviesportsguy, @theybecomestories, @umgeschrieben, @underblackwings, @voicetalentbrendan​, @thewolfofelectricavenue, and @yellanimal.

I would also like to tag some followers/previous participants as well who I also would welcome to participate in this final round: @birdsongvelvet​, @bitch-genius​, @dog-of-ulthar​, @loveless422​, @lvl9gay​, @mehetibel​, @phendranaedge​, @poncho-honcho​, @sayaf​, @shadesofhappy​, @thethirdman8​, @uncoolforelimb​, and @wehadfacesthen​. Regardless of whether you were tagged or not, all of my followers can participate if they wish.

Happy Holidays to all! After a fascinating preliminary round, now begins the final round to 2020's Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (MOABOS). This is the eighth time it has been contested and the seventh year it has been open to involvement from family, friends, and tumblr followers. I begin every new year not knowing whether I will be able to share with all of you these songs and the movies they come from around November/December. So on the day that MOABOS becomes viable (usually around mid-year), it's a long stretch of anticipation to this point.

For those who have never participated in this before, my classic movie blog traditionally ends the year by honoring some of the best achievements from movies that I saw for the first time this calendar year (the "Movie Odyssey"; rewatches do not count) with an Oscar-like ceremony. I choose all the nominees and winners from each category, save one: Best Original Song. It is the only category I can think of that does not require you to watch several movies in their entirety. I know some of you wonder why I bother with this quixotic social experiment. But I have always considered it a sort of cinematic-musical thank-you for your moral support in various ways - in the hopes of introducing to all of you films and music you may not have otherwise encountered or sought. A small slice of the 2020 Movie Odyssey, so to speak.

This final will be contested by sixteen songs. As I've mentioned before, for the first time ever, there are no MOABOS entries originating from this year that made the competition - a MOABOS first. I have seen one 2020 film since the prelim (Wolfwalkers... at a drive-in mind you), but this entire final is one of yesteryear. Even without any 1930s songs, this year's final is probably the oldest on average. There are some very recognizable songs that made it straight to the final, bypassing the preliminary; those songs are contained within. Among them, a city anthem and a song that should be a city's anthem. Elsewhere, this is the first final to ever feature two classic Bollywood songs - but no classic Bollywood song has ever cracked the top ten. Elvis has three songs in this final, a MOABOS joint record along with Prince and the Bee Gees (both in 2016). But also appearing in multiple entries are Frank Sinatra and Liza Minnelli, Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday. With five non-English-language songs in the final, this year’s final ties 2017 with the largest contingent of finalists not in the English language.

INSTRUCTIONS Please rank (#1-16) your choices in order. The top ten songs will receive nominations. The tabulation method used in the preliminary round is being used for the final only as the second tiebreaker (the tabulation method that will be used principally for the final - aka "single transferable vote" - is described in the “read more” at the bottom). There is no minimum or maximum amount of songs you can rank, but because of the nature of single transferable vote, it is highly recommended to rank as many songs as possible, rather than only one or two. Those who rank fewer songs run a greater risk of their ballots being discarded in the later rounds of tabulation. Again, this is all described in the “read more”.

Please consider to the best of your ability: how musically interesting the song is (incl. and not limited to musical phrasing and orchestration); its lyrics; context within the film (contextual blurbs provided for every entry for those who haven't seen the films); choreography/dance direction (if applicable); and the song's cultural impact/life outside the film (if applicable, and, in my opinion, least important factor). Imperfections in audio and video quality may not be used against any song. I encourage you to send in comments and reactions with your rankings - it makes the process more enjoyable for you and myself!

The deadline for submission is Thursday, December 31 at 8 PM Pacific Time. That is 6 PM Hawaii/Aleutian Time / 10 PM Central / 11 PM Eastern. That deadline is also Friday, January 1 at 2 AM GMT / 3 AM CET / 4 AM EET. This deadline has been pushed back two consecutive times due to a sizable non-response rate - but I very much do not want to do so again.

I have compiled most of this final round's songs into this YouTube playlist. Please note that neither of Kaagaz Ke Phool’s two songs are contained in the playlist. You will need to access them using their respective links.

Enjoy the music! Feel free to listen as many times as you need, and I hope you discover music and movies you may have never otherwise heard of that you find fascinating. The following is formatted... ("Song title", composer and lyricist, film title):

2020 MOVIE ODYSSEY AWARD FOR BEST ORIGINAL SONG – FINAL ROUND

“Angela”, music and lyrics by José Feliciano and Janna Merlyn Feliciano, Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

Performed by José Feliciano

(English-language version) / (Spanish single version)

Played over the opening credits to this teenage drama that is partly a blaxploitation film, partly an interracial coming-of-age romance. The movie wasn't a hit, but the Spanish-language version of this song was received well in Latin America.

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, music and lyrics by Eliot Daniel and Johnny Lange, Melody Time (1948)

Performed by Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers

This is the introductory song to the final segment of Melody Time. That segment is dedicated to the legend of Pecos Bill, and this atmospheric song leads into the telling of that story.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love”, music and lyrics by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, and George David Weiss, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

(film version) / (single version)

Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has just returned to his home state of Hawai'i after a stint in the Army. Not wanting to work on his father's pineapple plantation (seriously), he rekindles his relationship with his girlfriend, Maile (Joan Blackman). This song is sung as an accompaniment to a music box he gives to Maile's grandmother (Flora Kaai Hayes, a former Hawaiian Territorial Representative to the U.S. House). This song is among Elvis' best-known and most widely-covered.

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, music by S.D. Burman, lyrics by Kaifi Azmi, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Mohammad Rafi (dubbing Guru Dutt)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "I Have Seen How Deeply Friendship Lies / I Have Seen People Abandon Me One by One"

Part 1 (3:44-8:27) / Part 2 (2:16:29-2:20:42)

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy, Suresh Sinha (Dutt) is a washed-up director looking back on his life. In the first part, the song leads into the rest of the film - which is almost entirely a flashback. In brief, Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. Eventually, his career crashes after a box office bomb and her career is ascendant. Leading into the second part of the song, Suresh is penniless and working as an extra at the movie studio. Shanti recognizes him, wants to help, but he refuses to revive his career on the back of her success. Kaagaz Ke Phool has elements of autobiography, and Suresh's fate has parallels with what happened to Dutt after this film was released.

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Initially performed by Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong and his band; reprised by various

(initial film performance) / (Louis Armstrong single version)

Endie (Holiday in her only appearance in a feature film) is a maid to the affluent Smith family, whose matriarch looks down on jazz as a disreputable genre of music. In secret, Endie frequents a gambling and jazz establishment in the historic Storyville district of New Orleans and performs here with Louis Armstrong (playing himself) and others when she gets the chance. The matriarch's daughter (Dorothy Patrick), an classical operatic soprano, is transfixed by this new music she has never heard before.

“ Exsultate Justi”, music and lyrics by John Williams, Empire of the Sun (1987)

Performed by orchestra and chorus under the direction of Williams

Lyrics in Latin

In this historical epic, affluent British school boy Jamie Graham (a young Christian Bale) is living with his parents in Shanghai when the Japanese invade. Jamie is separated from his parents and placed in an internment camp. Soon before the end of WWII, the prisoners are moved elsewhere, but Jamie hides and stays put. This song plays as Jamie bikes around the empty camp and continues to play as he encounters liberating U.S. troops. Jamie is dirty and malnourished when found; one can argue that this song is used ironically. It plays once more over the end credits. "Exsultate Justi" is a variation on a theme John Williams develops over the course of the film and harkens back to Jamie's past, attending Anglican services with parents.

“Farewell to Storyville",  music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Performed by Louis Armstrong and his band, Billie Holiday, and company

In New Orleans, the Storyville district was a den of drinking, gambling, jazz, and prostitution. The district was the home to a heavily black populace. The U.S. military, about to establish a Naval base nearby, forces the city to close the district for good. This song is a swinging dirge to a center of jazz - a musical genre looked down upon by many of the city's upper-class whites due to its ties (real and imagined) to crime.

“Happy Endings", music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli and company (that's Jack Haley - who played the Tin Man and was, at the time, Minnelli's father-in-law - roughly seven minutes in)

(use in film) / (soundtrack version)

It is highly recommended one sees how this song is used in the film. Bear with me: this song is part of a movie within a movie. Within that movie within a movie, there is another movie. "Happy Endings" is the title end song to a film called Happy Endings within New York, New York. Singer Francine Evans (Liza Minnelli) has made it big as a recording artist and caps off her hit film, Happy Endings, with this song. We see Francine's ex, played by Robert De Niro, in the audience as the film ends. "Happy Endings" is a homage/deconstruction to midcentury Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) musicals. It serves the film as "The Broadway Melody" does to Singin' in the Rain (1952) or the 17-minute ballet does to conclude An American in Paris (1951).

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)", music and lyrics by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri, The T.A.M.I. Show (1964)

Performed by Jan and Dean

The link above provides the entire film. You only need to watch from 0:00-4:11. If you like music from this era or want to hear more, this film is highly, highly recommended.

This is the opening credits song to a concert film recorded over two days in Santa Monica, California on October 28 and 29, 1964. The Teenage Awards Music International (T.A.M.I. - yes, I know it's an awkward name) Show included many of the most popular musical stars of that time - almost all of them name-dropped in this song. Jan and Dean, a surf music duo, served as hosts (and performed during) the show. You folks are lucky that this is the only original song from this film!

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?", music and lyrics by Yôjirô Noda, Weathering with You (2019, Japan)

Performed by RADWIMPS

Lyrics in Japanese (translation)

Weathering with You is a romantic fantasy anime about a high school boy who runs away from his rural home to Tokyo, where he meets a girl who can manipulate the weather. It has been inexplicably raining for weeks without interruption in Tokyo, so they form a business to help clear the inclement weather for special events. The melody of this song is heard throughout the film's score. It does not appear with lyrics until late in the film. The song is played under the boy's seemingly impossible attempt to save her from an unwilling human sacrifice.

There is so much plot in this damn film (it's all Makoto Shinkai's fault) - I can't explain the context of the song or this movie in a reasonable amount of space.

“Moonlight Swim”, music by Ben Weisman, lyrics by Sylvia Dee, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

In a musical packed end-to-end with songs, Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has taken a job with a tour guide agency. On his first day, he drives his first clients - a school teacher (who not so secretly is attracted to Chad) and four teenagers (one of whom becomes smitten) - to their destination.

“Personality”, music by Jimmy Van Heusen, lyrics by Johnny Burke, Road to Utopia (1946)

Performed by Dorothy Lamour

(in-film performance) / (live radio performance)

In the fourth film of the Road to... comedy series, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby's characters have just overpowered two Alaskan thugs with a history of murderous violence. As they enter a saloon dressed up as those two thugs, all of the patrons - in a town that only knows the thugs by reputation - shut up in terror. They are treated to a performance by Sal (Lamour), who is trying to find a map of a gold mine that the real outlaws supposedly have. A visual narrator (Robert Benchley) interrupts the scene before the song briefly.

“Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, music and lyrics by Joy Byers, Frankie and Johnny (1966)

Performed by Elvis Presley

(in-film performance) / (single version)

Johnny (Elvis) and girlfriend Frankie (Donna Douglas) work on a Mississippi River riverboat as performers. Johnny is addicted to gambling and believes that another woman is spurring on his recent run of good luck. During a fit of jealousy-as-acting, Frankie accidentally shoots Johnny during a bit of musical theater (someone switched out the blanks for real bullets). This song occurs after Johnny has recovered from the accident.

“Theme from New York, New York”, music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli

(in-film performance) / (Frank Sinatra single)

For most of the film, saxophone player Jimmy Doyle (Robert De Niro) is trying to compose a song but cannot figure out the lyrics (this plays out as a subplot). His eventual girlfriend/later ex, Francine Evans (Minnelli) provides said lyrics. Some time well after they have broken up, he finds her singing this song - which he previously brought to the top of the jazz charts - in the nightclub where they first met. This film flopped (musical movies were out of fashion by the mid-'70s, and a musical didn't seem "on brand" for director Martin Scorsese). But the Frank Sinatra single popularized this song, and it has been used in many venues of popular culture.

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, music and lyrics by S.D. Burman, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Geeta Dutt (dubbing Waheeda Rehman)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "Time Has Inflicted Such Sweet Cruelty On Us"

Song begins at 1:03:31 and ends at 1:07:51

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy told in flashback, Suresh Sinha (Guru Dutt) is a director looking back on his life. Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. This song is the most explicit statement of that love in this film. How much of the scene's set-up is observable by the characters is up to the viewer's interpretation.

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, music by Josef Myrow, lyrics by Mack Gordon, Three Little Girls in Blue (1946)

Performed by Del Porter (dubbing Charles Smith) and Carol Stewart (dubbing Vera-Ellen)

(use in film) / (Frank Sinatra cover)

In this rarely-seen musical (*insert plea to Disney to restore the massive 20th Century Fox catalogue they now own and are almost certainly neglecting*), three chicken farmer sisters decide to travel to Atlantic City in hopes of marrying a rich husband when they learn their aunt's inheritance is not nearly as much as they want. There, youngest sister Myra (Vera-Ellen) - despite the sisters' original intentions of marrying men of wealth - becomes involved with a waiter named Mike (Charles Smith). They go on a date, and they sing this song. A somewhat overly-literal fantastical dancing sequence ensues, complete with Vera-Ellen's dancing skills. This song was popularized by Frank Sinatra years later and has long enjoyed status as a big band/jazz standard.

Contact me however you wish if you have questions or comments regarding MOABOS' processes or something specific about a song or a few. Please let me know as soon as possible if you are having difficulty accessing one of the songs (especially if it is region-locked) or if there is an error in the playlist.

Once more, I thank you all for your support for the Movie Odyssey, the blog, and for me personally - no matter how long I’ve known you or in what capacity. There are no hard feelings if you cannot get to this, although I will be checking in as the deadlines get close. Please wear a mask. Practice social distancing. We'll see each other again on the other side of this pandemic.

TABULATION The winner is determined by a process distinct from the preliminary round. For the final, the winner is chosen by the process known as single transferable vote (the Academy Awards uses this method to choose a Best Picture winner, visually represented here - you should really watch this video if the below doesn’t make sense… which it probably won’t):

All #1 picks from all voters are tabulated. A song needs more than half of all aggregate votes to win (50% of all votes plus one… i.e. if there are thirty respondents, sixteen #1 votes are needed to win on the first count).

If there is no winner after the first count (as is most likely), the song(s) with the fewest #1 votes or points is/are eliminated. Placement will be determined by the tiebreakers described below. Then, we look at the ballots of those who voted for the most recently-eliminated song(s). Their votes then go to the highest-remaining and non-eliminated song on their ballot.

The process described in step #2 repeats until one song has secured 50% plus one of all votes. We keep eliminating nominees and transfer votes to the highest-ranked, non-eliminated song on each ballot. NOTE: It is possible after several rounds of counting that respondents who did not entirely fill in their ballots will have wasted their votes at the end of the process. For example, if a person voted the second-to-last place song as their #1, ranked no other songs, and the count has exceeded two rounds, their ballot is discarded (lowering the vote threshold needed to win), and they have no say in which song ultimately is the winner.

A song wins when it reaches more than fifty percent of all #1 and re-distributed votes.

Tiebreakers: 1) first song to receive 50% plus one of all #1 and transferred votes; 2) total points earned (this was the first tiebreaker in the preliminary round); 3) total #1 votes; 4) average placement on my ballot and my sister’s ballot; 5) tie declared

Previous years’ results for reference: 2013 final 2014 final (input from family and friends began this year) 2015 final 2016 prelim / final 2017 prelim / final 2018 prelim / final 2019 prelim / final

[booksbookandmorebooks]

Things i loved about the little women 2019 movie.

Hello lovelies, im back with another review today of the amazing Little women 2019 adaptation. Quite honestly I have a bit of a history with this story as I have tried reading the book many times (as I'm sure a lot of you who follow me on other social medias will know) and each time I have sadly DNF’d it. I cant help but feel it severely lacking something, upon reflection I think it was a number things, one of which was I felt no relation to any of the characters and couldn't find any shared similarities, I did not enjoy the pacing and the slice of life style was a bit of a struggle to keep me engaged. So when attending the movie for the first time, I didn't Have very high hopes and was still unsure about whether it would deliver but wow, I can honestly sit back and say it was just beautiful. The cinematography, the characters, the stories, just everything. I fell in love. So much so I have now seen it 3 times, and each time has been just as much of an emotional roller coaster as the first! If you have not watched the movie yet I implore you, I beg you to do so as soon as possible!

So today im bringing you a list of things I really liked. If you enjoy this post please hang around for the second part of this review ‘’what I didn’t like about little women’’ which will be uploaded very shortly.  Without further ado, here we go!

The warm and cosy aesthetic.

This movie provides such a wonderfully cosy feeling when watching it, almost like you're watching your best friends living their day to day lives with how invested and entranced you are by the smallest of interactions and conversations yet, I had no prior introductions with the characters (in a positive way) no bond with them but some how due to this intense feeling I found I care about each of the girls almost instantly. I cannot tell you how that was achieved, whether it’s the beautifully warm aesthetic of that time period or whether its down to good script writing I cannot say for sure but what I did feel was just mass amounts of affection throughout providing me with some very strong opinions and views early on.

The movie has as I stated, a warm feeling but yet is also very hard hitting at times, very raw and emotional. Of which the director leaves all of these feelings at the surface so the audience feel it just as hard. This enables the audience to really sympathise and empathise with the emotions of the characters in various scenes, thus creating a strong bond of shared pain. Whether that be through the death of a loved one, unrequited romance, career frustrations, family arguments, money struggles and many more.

The themes explored:

I really enjoyed the different themes this movie explores and how it manages to achieve this in such a subtle way to. There is never anything too in your face or extreme in this movie, which is why its paced so perfectly. we see themes of war (the girls father is away for a good portion of the movie and we have a wonderful scene where the girls are huddled round their mother while she reads his letter from the trenches out loud and we see a very raw moment they all share) we see themes of classes in the community (the extremely wealthy shown through Laurie and his father) the working families through the marches and extreme poverty through the young single mother who the marches provide constant support for, and the most common I feel, is the theme of death. I will not go into too much detail but, just be warned this is a very very constant theme, due to the time period this book/movie was set in it is only to be expected when you think about it.

The cast:

Meryl Streep. That’s it, that’s the point. No more is needed. Meryl Streep.

The Girls:

Now we come to my absolute favourite part of this movie. every single one of the girls had their shining moment, a real moment where they had to look into themselves and find their inner strength and make some very hard but real decisions in their lives and the way they were all delivered was spectacular, the amount of emotion we see from the girls was so empowering in such a way that had you experiencing a real ‘’hell yeah!’’ moment for these characters.

Amy: Her speeches to Laurie, my favourite being the one about society's expectations of women and how they are not treated as equals and are only seen as prizes given to reward men. Her issues with love and marriage and her desire to marry well for her future, that she wants to independent, she wants to great at her art and will not settle for anything less, all of which was such a moment seeing her react to such a throw away comment from a man in such an strong manner was just a powerful thing especially given the time period when women weren't seen as anything of real value and potential. They were mothers and daughters, they were kitchen staff they had their place and it was not a place equal to a man, never understood higher. The idea was strictly inconceivable.

’’I want to be great or nothing.’’

Meg: The scene where she really discovers the meaning of unconditional love in regards her husband after we have seen them in a very hard position and seen fracture begin to form in their relationship due to money worries and the stresses of a poorer life style than she had previously known, a life style we see is a lot less giving than we see her friends are blessed with. This ultimately leads meg to experience a lack in judgement, jealousy and resentment, but then we are able to see her redemption, We see her accept the selfishness of her actions, right the wrong she has caused through her thoughtlessness and welcome her husband into open arms with love and support regardless of their struggles. A really beautiful moment for the both of them.

Beth: The scene on the beach with Beth and Jo was definitely a stand out one for me, when Beth is pushing Jo to further her career as she knows how strongly Jo feels about writing . she is able to see through her sisters stubbornness, forget her own personal fear and troubles and do this one last thing for her sister, help inspire her to achieve her dreams. Which is one of many scenes that bought a tear to my eye, and just shows the immense strength Beth has after being seen as the weak and quiet one for so long, if anything this scene is a testament to that, and I see it as proof she is the strongest out of them all. She has her head screwed on the tightest and when faced with an impossible situation she chooses to help the people who mean most to her through the hardest of times instead of showing an ounce of fear or self pity.

Jo: Now lets be honest here. Jo has so many empowering scenes there are too many to list so I am sticking once again with my personal favourite...

When Jo sells her hair for help her family and mother

we see her strong and fearless in the face of others and throughout the movie. Characteristics she is renowned for, she knows what she must do for her family and she does it, she does it without a second thought and expects no praise. She takes seemingly, on the chin. but yet when doors are closed we see her become so much more human and fragile about this situation and pine for her femininity . Something she has shown no care or thought for prior yet through this scene it becomes apparent that Jo, behind this strong facade is still a woman, and all women want to feel beautiful, which I know is something we can all relate to. Jo has always been the character people want to be, shes strong, determined, career driven shes the ideal independent career woman but yet through this specific scene she becomes that little bit more human and that little bit more reachable.

And there we have it. Due to the length of this post I will be separating my review into two parts as I stated in my intro. I hoped you enjoyed this first part and have a fantastic few days, ill see you soon.

[kkintle]

Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen; Quotes

The heart is on the left side also in emperors.

And as he sat, it occurred to him that maybe the fairy tale had gone into hiding, like the princesses in the old folk tales, and now had to be sought out. If she were found, she would shine with a new splendor, more beautiful than ever before. “Who knows? Maybe she lies hidden (…)

Tragedy was bottled in champagne bottles that start out with a bang, as tragedy should

“He’s sure like a human being, that pixie!” said the old cat. “Just one sweet miaow from the mistress, a miaow about himself, and he immediately changes his mind. She is clever, Madame.” But she wasn’t clever. It was the pixie who was human. If you can’t understand this story, ask about it, but don’t ask the pixie or the Madame.

An actor once told me that when he played a lover he thought about just one person in the audience. He played to her and forgot the rest of the spectators.

“I could have said that better,” thought the critic, but he didn’t say it out loud, and that was already really something.

You can’t learn imagination.” “But what shall I do to make my living by writing?” “Oh, you can manage that by Shrove Tuesday! Become a critic! Knock down the poets. Knock down their writings—that’s just like knocking them. Just don’t be over-awed. Hit at them without ceremony. You’ll get enough dough to support both yourself and a wife!” “You’ve hit upon the very thing!” said the young man, and he knocked down all the poets because he couldn’t become one himself.

When the clock struck five the five senses were there. Sight came as a maker of eye glasses. Hearing was a coppersmith. Smell was selling violets and woodruff. Taste was a cook, and Feeling was a funeral director with mourning crepe hanging down to his heels.

People who are dead can’t walk again, we know that very well, but works of art can haunt. The body was broken, but not the spirit. The spirit of art was spooking, and that was no spoofing matter.

I have something of the poet in me, but not enough. Often when I’m walking the city streets, it seems to me like I’m in a big library. The houses are bookcases and each story a shelf with books. There stands an everyday story. There a good old fashioned comedy. There are scientific works about all kinds of subjects. Here smut and good literature. I can fantasize and philosophize about all that literature.

There’s something of the poet in me, but not enough. Many people have just as much of it as I have and yet don’t carry a sign or a collar with poet written on it. They and I have been given a gift from God, a blessing big enough for oneself, but much too small to be parceled out to others. It comes like a sunbeam and fills your soul and mind. It comes like a waft of flowers, like a melody you know but can’t remember from where.

“People are like milk that curdles. Some become fine cottage cheese and others thin, watered whey. Some people are lucky in everything, always given the place of honor, and never knowing sorrow or want.”

Everyone has his burdens to bear. We’re not alone in it, and there’s a comfort in that.

There was an open casket standing in the middle of the church floor with a dead man in it, soon to be buried. Since he had a clear conscience, Johannes wasn’t afraid at all, and he knew that the dead hurt no one; it’s evil living people who cause harm.

She looked at all the innumerable little stones on the shore; the water had polished them smooth. Glass, iron, stone—everything that was washed up on the beach had been shaped by water, water that was softer still than her white hand. “They roll tirelessly, and so they smooth out the roughness; I’ll be just as tireless! Thank you for your wisdom, you clear rolling waves.

It’s true that the sea is softer than your fine hands and can shape the hard stones, but it doesn’t feel the pain your fingers will feel. It has no heart and doesn’t suffer the dread and terror you must tolerate.

“You can make one up,” said the little boy. “Mother says that everything you look at can become a fairy tale, and that you can get a story from everything you touch.” “But those fairy tales and stories are no good! No, the real ones come by themselves. They knock at my forehead and say, ‘Here I am!’”

Then they did the hardest dance, the one that’s called “stepping out of the dance.”

Here’s my card. I live on the sunny side of the street, and I’m always home when it rains.” And then the shadow went away.

But we can take comfort that the soul is most clever when it’s on its own. The body only dumbs it down.

The air and light were the flower’s lovers, but light was the favorite. It turned to the light, and if that disappeared, it rolled its petals together and slept in the embrace of the air. “It’s light that adorns me,” said the flower. “But the air lets you breathe,” whispered the poet’s voice.

As is the case with anything done thoroughly, the galoshes could only do one thing at a time.

Our greatest sufferings here we don’t impart, You who were alone at last, and often; Know that in life much presses harder on the heart Than all the soil that’s cast upon your coffin.

The little pixie grabbed the wonderful book from the table, put it inside his red cap, and held on to it with both hands. The greatest treasure in the house was saved! Then he ran off, way out onto the roof and up on the chimney, where he sat illuminated by the burning house across the street, and with both hands he held onto his red cap that held the treasure. Now he knew his own heart and knew to whom he really belonged. But when the fire had been extinguished, and he thought about it; well—“I’ll divide myself between them,” he said. “I can’t completely give up the grocer, because of the porridge.” And that was quite human of him! The rest of us go to the grocer too, for the sake of the porridge.

“Come out on the roof, little Rudy,” was one of the first things the cat said, and Rudy understood. “All that about falling is just imagination. You won’t fall if you aren’t afraid of falling. Come on, set one paw like this, and the other like this! Feel your way with your front paws. Use your eyes, and be flexible in your limbs. If there’s a gap, then jump and hold on. That’s what I do.”

When you’re a child and can’t talk yet, you can understand hens and ducks, cats and dogs very well indeed. They are just as easy to understand as father and mother when you are really small. Even grandfather’s cane can whinny and become a horse with a head, legs, and tail. Some children lose this understanding later than others, and people say that those children are slow in developing and are children for an exceedingly long time. People say so many funny things!

(…) but that doesn’t matter because I have gotten this much out of it: things are not distributed quite the way they should be, either for dogs or for people in this world. Not everyone is created to sit on laps or drink milk.

Never think that you will fall, and you’ll manage!”

You have to climb, and you won’t fall down if you believe you won’t.

When you meet someone from your home when you are far away, then you speak to each other like you know each other.

Luck was with him, as it always is for those who believe in themselves and remember that “God gives us the nuts, but he doesn’t crack them open for us.”

Water is so soft and yet so strong. It has a back to bear weight, and a mouth with which to swallow. Gently smiling, softness itself and yet a terror, with shattering strength.

“The world has no more joy to give me.” Words uttered in an abundance of happiness, repeated in a torrent of grief.

“Little Kai is with the Snow Queen and finds everything to his liking. He thinks it’s the best place in the world, but that’s because he has gotten a splinter in his heart and a little chip of glass in his eye. They have to come out first, or he’ll never become human again, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him.”

He was carrying around some sharp, flat pieces of ice which he positioned in all sorts of ways, trying to make something out of it. It’s like when the rest of us use little wooden pieces and make figures from them. It’s called a tangram. Kai was also making figures and very complicated ones. It was the game of Icy Reason. To his eyes the figures were quite excellent and of the very highest importance. That was because of the bit of glass in his eye!

Then Kai burst into tears. He cried so that the splinter of glass washed out of his eye. He recognized her and cried joy fully, “Gerda! sweet little Gerda! Where have you been so long? And where have I been?” He looked around. “How cold it is here! How big and empty it is!” and he held Gerda tight.

A tail wind for one is head wind for another.

“Cattle die, kinsmen die, one day you die yourself; I know one thing that never dies— the dead man’s reputation.”

In those days the saying was: “The herds know when it’s time to go home and give up grazing, but a foolish man will always forget the size of his stomach.”

They knew that, all right, but do as I say, not as I do! They also knew that “love turns to loathing if you sit too long on someone else’s bench,” but still they stayed. Meat and mead are good things!

“I don’t quite understand it,” said stork mother, “but that’s not my fault. It’s the idea’s fault. But it doesn’t make any difference because I have other things to think about.”

Then they repeated this and wrote it up as a prescription : “Love brings forth life,” but how the whole thing was going to be worked out, they didn’t know.

They say that raindrops hollow out the hard rock. Over time the waves of the sea polish the angular stones until they’re round. The dew of grace that fell over little Helga hollowed out the hardness and rounded the sharpness. But she didn’t recognize that, didn’t know it herself. Does the seed in the earth, when it’s dampened by life-giving moisture and the warm rays of the sun, know that it hides growth and a flower within itself?

“Everyone flies in his own way,” said stork father. “The swans diagonally, the cranes triangularly and the plovers in curves like a snake.”

Better to have something in your tummy when you’re alive than be made a fuss of when you’re dead!

People don’t always go straight to hell, but they can get there the long way around, if they have talent.

Tears of sorrow that a mother cries for her child always reach the child, but they don’t set it free—they only burn and make the torment greater.

“The Portuguese is a gifted speaker,” they said. “We don’t use such great big words, though our sympathy for you is as great. But if we don’t do anything for you, we’ll be quiet about it. We find that the noblest.”

It’s so cold here that the clouds freeze to pieces and fall down in little white patches.” It was snow she meant, but she couldn’t explain it any better.

Oh, to grow, to grow, to become big and old! That’s the only beauty in this world, thought the tree.

“Enjoy your youth!” said the sunbeams. “Enjoy your fresh growth, and the young life that’s in you!” And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew cried tears over it, but the spruce tree didn’t understand.

“Take pleasure in us,” said the air and the sunshine. “Be happy in your fresh youth out in the open air!” But the tree wasn’t happy at all. It grew and grew. Both winter and summer it was green. Dark green it stood there, and people who saw it said, “that’s a lovely tree,” and at Christmas it was cut first. The ax cut deeply through the pith, and the tree fell with a sigh to the earth. It felt a pain and a powerless-ness, and couldn’t think of any joy. It felt saddened to be parted from its home, from the spot where it had grown up. It knew, of course, that it would never again see its dear companions, the small bushes and flowers all around, maybe not even the birds. The departure was not at all pleasant.

“How lovely the world is!” said the caterpillar. “The sun is so warm! Everything is so pleasant. And when I shall one day fall asleep and die, as it’s called, I’ll wake up and be a butterfly!”

“I’ve let myself be taken by surprise,” he said, “so I’d better surprise them too.” And he did. He was gone. Gone all day, gone all night (…)

“The world isn’t so bad after all,” said the dung beetle. “You just have to know how to take it.”

Here he could live, but “living is not enough,” he said. “You must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower!”

The flower understood it in his fashion, as we understand things in ours.

“How terribly alone he must have been,” she said. “Terribly alone,” said the tin soldier, “but it’s lovely not being forgotten!”

No, rather with friendly handshakes, and they get bread and pastries from each other because foreign food tastes best.

Harsh words bear harsh fruit. How would this end?

“The less you know, the less you’re burdened,” said Mother Søren.

Embedded in Andersen’s story is a notion that good tales can expose even the storyteller.

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

masterlist - AO3

Chapter Four - The World’s Gonna Know Your Name

It was Thursday and Jamie still hadn’t reached out to John. I was sweating, trying to keep working. I knew John was surely losing his mind, too. We both tried to go about our jobs as usual. Actors made us wait all the time. But this felt different, and we both knew it. 

At 10:00 am, John ran into my office, nearly sliding against the wall as he rounded the corner. “Are you busy at lunch?” 

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Aside from actually eating lunch? No.” 

“Okay, we have a meeting at noon.” He started to walk away. 

I called to him, making him turn back. “John! Who is the meeting with?” 

His head came back around the corner. “Jamie Fraser. He wants to meet with us in person.” He eyed my office. “We’ll have the meeting in here. Your office looks more presentable than mine. Marilyn can’t make it, so it’ll just be us.” 

John was gone before I could reply. I stared down at my desk, seemingly frozen. There was plenty of work to do, but I thought it might be pointless for me to do it. For the millionth time since I talked to him last, my mind drifted back to Jamie. I wondered if he’d take my offer. Or was he coming to turn the role down in person? That didn’t seem likely. I looked at the papers on my desk, realizing I may be out of a job this afternoon. 

I couldn’t just sit there, so I got up and paced. When that wasn’t enough, I sat back down. I continued the pattern of pacing and sitting until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out my phone and started looking at contacts, wondering who I could have help me get another show to direct. My mind was running too fast to focus on just one thing. I was certain though, that Jamie would be accepting the role. No one met in person to turn down a part. 

I prayed that my breathing was under control when John wandered back into my office. He pulled one of my chairs from in front of my desk and sat it next to my chair. I could tell that he was nervous. Even if I didn’t want to lose my job, I wanted John to stop being so antsy. We’d found the perfect lead and that was supposed to be the end of casting. Both of us were sweating nerves and there was really nothing we could do to stop it. 

A knock at the door shook us from our anxiety ridden silence. We looked to the door to see Jamie standing there, a nervous smile on his face. John jumped up quickly, welcoming him into my office. “Welcome, Jamie.” Jamie nodded his head politely, sitting down in the chair across from my desk. 

“I appreciate ye taking the time to meet wi’ me,” he started, leaning forward a bit. “I realize I left you hanging and I wanted to give ye an explanation.” 

My stomach was tied in knots. Surely, he wasn’t going to give a full explanation, right? His eyes were on John, only flitting to me for a short second or two. “I was very grateful to be given the opportunity to even audition for this role,” Jamie started. I couldn’t tell where this was going. “But when ye called me, something had come up in my personal life and I wasna sure that I would be able to take the role.” John nodded understandingly. I sat there frozen, wondering which direction he was taking this. “So, I really was thinking things over and trying to find a way to accept this part,” he continued. 

“And?” John asked. 

I looked between the two men, my gaze settling on Jamie. “And, I would be more than honored to accept the role if the offer still stands,” he said, a large smile gracing his face. 

I felt happy for a brief second before I remembered what it all meant. My eyes drifted closed, wishing I’d thought of another way to get him to take the role. 

“Thank goodness,” John said, standing up to shake Jamie’s hand. “I’m so relieved. You’re simply too talented for us to find another suitable lead.” 

“Well, thank you,” Jamie said, trying to hide a shy smile. “I canna begin to express what a great opportunity this is. I mean, it’s every actor’s dream to work wi’ Claire Beauchamp,” he exclaimed, finally resting his gaze on me. “I would be crazy to turn down that chance.” 

I felt my mouth fall open some as I stared up at him. Could that mean what I thought it meant? Was he letting me stay? But why? John was excitedly responding to Jamie as I tried to sort through the mess of my mind. 

“Let me go get something! I’ll be right back,” John said, turning to leave the room. 

Jamie sat back down, not looking at me. 

“Does that mean what I think it means?” I finally asked. I knew we only had so long to be frank before John walked back in. 

“What do ye mean?” 

“I offered to leave, but what you just said –”  I cut myself off, trying to find the proper way to explain my thought process. 

“Aye, it meant what ye thought,” Jamie clarified. “You dinna have to step down.” 

I nodded, looking down at my desk. Looking back at him, I tried to see if I could get any answers from his face. His face was a blank mask. “Why are you doing this?” 

His fingers tapped on the desk. “I thought back on why I was so desperate to get even just an audition,” Jamie started. “And the real reason for that was that I wanted to work wi’ Claire Beauchamp. I suppose at some point, perhaps, I should have looked ye up. I’d heard yer name enough to know how much of a legend ye are nowadays, but I didna even ken what ye looked like.” 

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. 

“But no matter, I knew that I’d regret it if I made ye hold up yer end of the bargain,” Jamie finished, giving me a look. 

“What about your concerns? They were valid, Jamie. I completely understood where you were coming from.” 

He nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “Ye’re no’ going to tell anyone what happened, aye?” 

“Of course not,” I promised him. I held his gaze, making sure he knew I was serious.

“Well, me either.” He took a deep breath. “It can be our wee secret, then. And hopefully it willna get out otherwise and I’ll be able to avoid such accusations.” 

“Very well,” I replied, unsure of what else to say. 

Thankfully, John walked back in and saved us from any further awkward moments. “Jamie, here you go. These are all the things you’ll be needing. The schedule is on top. As you can see, production officially begins Monday.” 

“Great,” Jamie said, picking up the stack John had just given him. “I canna wait. Thank ye so much.” 

“No, thank you!” John replied, shaking Jamie’s hand too hard. 

“John, I think you’re coming on a bit strong,” I told him softly. He glanced at me with an embarrassed face. I reached my hand out to Jamie, hoping no sign of our private conversation showed on my glass face. “I look forward to it, Mr. Fraser.” 

“Likewise,” he said, taking my hand. 

I tried my best to ignore the spark from just a handshake. Swallowing thickly, I nodded to him, taking my hand back. John turned to walk him out and I sat down in my chair. My head was leaning against the back of it when John wandered back in. 

“Isn’t he just the best?” 

“Mmhmm.” Suddenly, I was torn. Did I want to have to work alongside Jamie when just his touch made me react so? Or would I have rather lost my job due to a personal secret? I didn’t know the answer, but I did know that this show was going to be a very different experience for me. 

* * *

The entire cast was gathered for the first table read. I looked around the room at the people I’d handpicked to be there. As I watched them mingle while they waited to begin, I hoped that once again, I’d been right in my instincts. Louise de la Tour wandered over to me as I stood at the Director’s place at the long table. 

“Claire, so lovely to see you again,” she said, wrapping me in a hug. “I am excited about this one.” 

I smiled at her. “Me too. But are you sure you’re ready to return to the stage?” I teased. 

She rolled her eyes. “Goodness, if one more person asks me that…” 

I laughed, laying a hand on her arm. “No one should begrudge you the right to take your career in a different place than theirs. Believe me, if they’re actually mad at you, it’s because they’re jealous.” 

Louise smiled at me with a grateful expression. “Thank you, Claire. You’ve always been so kind to me. You know I wouldn’t come back for just anyone.” 

I grinned with a small shake of my head. “Oh, I know.” 

Jamie nodded to me as he walked past. I smiled in response. He was poised to keep going until he noticed who I was talking to. Freezing, his eyes went wide. “You’re Louise de la Tour,” he said, a bit in awe. 

She turned to look at him. “I am.” 

“Wow.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m a huge fan of yers. I’ve seen so many of yer movies. Ye’re a phenomenal actress.” 

She put a hand to her heart. “Well, thank you. And — I’m sorry — you are?” 

He smiled, holding out his hand. “No’ to worry, I’m a new face. I’m Jamie Fraser.” 

“He’ll be Peter,” I told her. 

She nodded, her eyebrows raising. “That’s right. I remember hearing you went with a no name.” She glanced back at Jamie. “No offense.” 

“None taken. I am a no name.” He laughed, waving her off. I couldn’t help but grin watching their interaction. There was a dark, disturbed part of me that wondered if he was flirting with her. 

“So, how does your husband feel about being back in New York?” I asked Louise, mentally shaking my head at myself. 

She shrugged in reply. “I think he’s happy with it. He always loved the place. And we’ll be here for a while, so I think he’s excited for some stability.” She glanced over at some of the other actors. “Anyway, I need to go catch Joe before you get things started. Lovely to meet you, Jamie.” 

“Lovely meeting ye as well,” Jamie said as she walked away. He turned back to me, his eyes wide. “This is a whole new experience for me. I’m afraid I’m no’ holding myself together well. I just avoided Joe Abernathy in general because I fear I’ll make a fool of myself.” 

I chuckled. “Jamie, these are your colleagues now. You better get used to being around them.” 

He nodded, looking back over at the other group. “I suppose ye’re right. It’s still just a wee bit crazy to me.” He leaned closer to me, whispering conspiratorially. “I still canna really believe ye actually wanted me to have the part.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t earned it,” I promised him. “Same as everyone else.” 

He smiled, looking down at his feet. “Thank ye, Sassenach.” 

His eyes went a bit wide at his name for me, like it had slipped out. I wanted to ask him what that word meant, but I didn’t want to make him stop calling me whatever nickname he’d given me. He walked off toward his chair and I took a moment to pull myself together. The man brought out the wrong side of me and I needed to make sure that at work I was nothing but the consummate professional I’ve always been. I began to wonder if I should have been worried about my own set of accusations. What if people thought I went daffy for my new lead? 

Would they be wrong?

Shaking my head, I walked to my chair and stood behind it. I cleared my throat loudly, gaining the attention of most of the people in the room. Once the cast was seated and the crew behind them, I began my traditional start of production speech. 

“Welcome. Today is the first day of production which means that today is the first day of your new life. We have people in this cast and crew at every level of experience, but I’m going to treat you all as if you are completely new. Each director is different. I’m even different from the director I was three years ago. So, in a way, all of you are inexperienced in the ways of this show. But that’s not a bad thing. It’s good. It gives us a fresh look at our art. And in the end, gives us a better show. I expect the best from you and I hope you, in turn, expect the best from me. You all earned your place in this room, but you can easily be replaced if need be. I hope none of you take this opportunity for granted. Just think, right now, there is some high schooler somewhere who would kill to be in your shoes. So, don’t forget that. Put 100% of yourself into this performance and we’ll give the people the best that we can give them. Okay?” 

The rest of the room broke out in an applause of agreement, nodding their heads to me. “Great, then let’s get to work.” 

I pulled out my script and held it up to them. “We are going to read through the first act. After that, we will break for lunch. Once lunch is over, we will begin blocking scenes one and two. Alright?” Nods circled around the table like a messy version of the wave. “Great.” 

* * *

“So, production has officially started, right?” 

I was sitting at dinner with Uncle Lamb and he had barely waited for us to order drinks before jumping into my latest show. 

“That’s right.” 

“How are things going?” he asked, glancing up from his menu. 

“So far, so good,” I replied noncommittally. He shot me a look. “It’s just been the first week.” 

He nodded, sighing in agreement. “Alright, that’s fair. I read the script you gave me. This play sounds fantastic.” 

I smiled. “Yeah, I’m really excited about it. For a straight show, I think it’ll still get a lot of buzz. I mean, this playwright is incredible.” 

“Oh, yes indeed.” Uncle Lamb took a drink of his water. “Who did you end up casting in the lead?” 

My eyes closed for a split second. Even in my home life, I couldn’t get away from mention of Jamie. I knew Uncle Lamb was living vicariously through me. After he’d gotten sick, he hadn’t been able to return to the theatre. Each time I started a new play, he gave me the same rundown. There was no way for him to know what his current question was doing to me. And I’d never tell him. 

“We actually went with a new actor. Never been on Broadway before,” I informed him. 

He raised one eyebrow at me. “A no-name? Why, I’m impressed. I’d heard that Bradley Cooper was auditioning for the role.” 

I laughed into my drink. Hearing Uncle Lamb saying current non-stage celebrities names always amused me. “So he did,” I admitted. 

“Good for you for not casting based on name popularity.” 

I smiled. “What can I say? The man can’t do a Scottish accent to save his life.” 

“And this no-name can?” 

I nodded emphatically. “Yes, he’s actually Scottish.” 

Uncle Lamb chuckled. “Well, that’s basically cheating. But what a find.” I nodded in agreement. “What’s the man’s name?” 

“Jamie Fraser.” I took a deep breath, hoping my face didn’t betray any secrets. “His name is Jamie Fraser.”

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