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maddyjones2 · 3 months ago

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On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #neil gaiman allegations

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 7 months ago

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Love Story

Colette is an up and coming actor, Harry is an international popstar who fell in love with cinema. When the pair work on a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, their worlds collide as feelings develop.

CW: Brief mention of dying, Smut.

Word Count: 11,860

Colette stepped into her dressing room, a lavishly appointed space designed to echo the opulence of the Verona in which her film "Romeo and Juliet" was set. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet curtains, softening the room with a rich, warm texture that whispered of hidden secrets and dramatic declarations. Golden accents framed mirrors and furniture, reflecting the flickering light from several ornately carved silver candelabras positioned thoughtfully around the room.

As she entered, her eyes were drawn to the vanity, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship with an expansive mirror bordered by tiny bulbs that bathed the area in a gentle, flattering light. Upon the surface lay an array of cosmetics and brushes, each laid out with precision, their handles catching glints of light like miniature scepters waiting to bestow their magic upon her.

The air was filled with a subtle scent of roses and myrrh, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and invigorating, as if the very essence of romance and tragedy had been captured and dispersed through the room. A large window draped with heavy curtains looked out upon a secluded garden that boasted marble statues peeking through lush greenery—Juliet's own secret sanctuary.

Colette’s costume hung on a dress form; it was a stunning creation of silk and lace, the fabric dyed in shades of moonlight and adorned with delicate embroidery that mimicked the intricate patterns of an Italian tapestry. The bodice was fitted, designed to accentuate her figure while allowing for the dramatic movements required in her scenes.

Next to the dress stood a pair of custom-made shoes, their leather soft and supple, seeming almost alive, like they were molded from a piece of night itself. They were embellished with small pearls and crystals, which twinkled like stars against the shadowy backdrop.

On a small table beside her plush, velvet-covered chaise lounge lay her script, its pages worn from use yet handled with reverence. It was flanked by a quill and an inkpot—an affectation provided by the director to inspire connection to the era they were emulating—as well as a delicate teacup painted with scenes from Shakespeare’s works.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself amidst this feast for senses—a real-life canvas painted with details fit for royalty—Colette prepared mentally to step once again into Juliet's world: one where love defied reason and every corner held both beauty and sorrow. She sat at her vanity, poised to transform under the artful hands of her makeup artist, ready to breathe life into Shakespeare's timeless lover once more.

The door to her dressing room opened with a soft creak, heralding the arrival of Madame Laurette, the makeup artist whose skills transformed actresses into visions from another time. Clad in a smock splattered with the remnants of foundation and rouge from previous masterpieces, Madame Laurette carried an ancient-looking leather case, which she set down with a practiced grace next to Colette.

"Ah, my dear," Madame Laurette began, her voice a soothing melody, "today we paint the tragedy and triumph of young love upon your canvas." Her hands were deft as they opened the case, revealing rows upon rows of pots and brushes, pencils and palettes; tools of the trade laid out like a surgeon's instruments, each with a purpose to bring forth beauty from bareness.

With delicate fingers, Madame Laureette applied a light moisturizer to Colette's face, preparing the skin like a primed canvas. She then used a sponge to dab on foundation that matched Colette's complexion so perfectly it seemed as if it were but a whisper on her skin. As she worked, she spoke softly about the character of Juliet—her passion, her grace, her strength in the face of despair.

Next came the eyes—windows to Juliet's soul. Madame Laurette chose shades that reflected the hues of twilight; dusky purples and soft blues blended seamlessly to suggest a depth of emotion. The eyeliner was applied in a fine line, accentuating the shape of Colette's eyes, making them appear larger, more expressive. Lashes were curled and coated with mascara that made them flutter like the wings of a night moth.

Cheeks were next attended with a brush dusted in rose-pink blush that brought a gentle bloom to her porcelain skin, reminiscent of English roses in bloom. It was as if Juliet herself had paused in a garden, momentarily caught up in thoughts of her Romeo.

Lips were not forgotten—painted in a soft red that was bold yet not overwhelming—a color that whispered of promises and kissed by starlight. As Madame Laurette worked her magic, the transformation from actress to character was nearly complete.

Finally, Madame Laurette set everything with a light dusting of powder which seemed to pull forth an ethereal glow from within Colette herself. Standing back to admire her work, she nodded slightly as if granting approval to proceed with the act.

As Madame Laurette packed away her tools and bid her farewell with wishes of good luck, Colette took one last look at herself in the mirror. Now staring back was Juliet Capulet: tragic yet triumphant in her love—a young woman framed not only by curls dark as raven wings but also by an aura of timeless romance that would soon spill over onto the stage under countless watching stars.

Her movements were infused with an anticipatory grace that seemed woven from the very threads of the narratives she was set to embody. The costume assistant approached, a vision of focus and professionalism, carrying the garment that would complete the transformation: a dress that seemed spun from moonlight and gossamer dreams.

The dress itself was a masterpiece of historical accuracy blended with theatrical flair. Its fabric was a whisper-soft silk that flowed like water over Colette's form, pooling slightly at her feet in a shimmering cascade of sky-blue. Intricate embroidery adorned the bodice, featuring delicate vines and flowers meticulously stitched with silver thread, catching the light with every subtle movement and suggesting a lattice of morning dew. Sleeves of sheer chiffon draped elegantly from her shoulders, airy and almost translucent, giving her arms the appearance of being wrapped in wisps of cloud.

As she stepped into the dress, the assistant deftly laced up the back, pulling the strings tight enough to sculpt her waist without hindering breath—a crucial balance for any performer. The final touch was a delicate ribbon tied in a bow just below her collarbone, a nod to youthful innocence and burgeoning romance.

Once dressed, Colette floated towards the full-length mirror, her steps tentative yet poised as though she were both discovering and remembering Juliet’s haunted grace. Her reflection seemed to transcend time; here was Juliet not as mere fiction, but resurrected in flesh and blood and silk, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of sorrow for the tale she was to live anew.

Taking a deep breath that lifted her chest slightly against the soft confines of her dress, Colette turned away from her reflection—away from Juliet's temporary shelter—and made her way out of the dressing room. The corridor outside was lined with flickering candles encased in glass lanterns hanging from ornate metal stands, casting shadows that danced like shy phantoms on the walls.

As she walked, her dress whispered secrets only she could hear, each step a murmur of silk. Exiting the building, she stepped out into an expanse that felt less like part of a film set and more like stepping through a wrinkle in time into Verona itself. The set designers had outdone themselves; cobblestone streets wound beneath balconies overflowing with ivy and blooms. Lamps glowed softly along pathways and a distant fountain murmured in melodious tones.

Here under the vast expanse of an artificial twilight sky beginning to pin itself with stars, Colette paused at the center of an old square waiting for Harry's arrival. In this moment suspended between reality and fiction—where night air kissed her cheeks as sweetly as any lover might—she was neither Colette nor Juliet but something timeless; a whisper of love’s eternal reverie waiting to be awakened by Romeo’s pledge beneath soft-footed shadows.

Colette felt eborn into another age and another life—her heart beating rapidly with anticipation and empathy for her character’s imminent joys and sorrows. She moved towards the set where artificial stars awaited their nightly audience and real emotions would stir under painted skies.

Just as the anticipation in the air reached its peak, Harry emerged from the shadows, a figure pulled from the very pages of Shakespeare. His costume was a masterpiece of Elizabethan artistry—velvet doublet embroidered with intricate silver threads that caught the light with every subtle movement, making him shimmer like a star newly born into the night sky. His breeches were of a similar rich fabric, hugging his legs with a precision that spoke of many hours spent in the tailor’s care. Upon his feet were boots made of soft leather that whispered against the cobblestones as he moved.

His hair, usually untamed and wild, had been tamed into soft waves that framed his face, echoing the romantic heroes of old. Around his neck, a heavy chain with a cross pendant rested against his chest, gleaming softly in the lamplight. His eyes, when they met Colette's, sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy—the perfect echo of Romeo’s own youthful vibrance and passionate soul.

As Harry walked closer to where Colette stood, waiting in her character's eternal reverie, his presence seemed to draw the very essence of the night towards him. The distant murmur of the fountain seemed to harmonize with his every step, creating a melody that resonated with the quiet rustling of Colette’s gown. Each element of the scene—the glowing lamps along the pathways, the soft rustle of ivy against stone—seemed to lean towards him, as if nature itself was eager to hear the tale these two star-crossed lovers would enact.

The square they occupied breathed with an air of ancient romance; it was as though they had truly stepped back in time and were no longer actors on a set but living embodiments of their characters. The buildings surrounding them wore age like proud badges, their windows darkened save for the occasional flicker of candlelight that suggested life continuing unaware inside. Above them, the crescent moon cradled stars that had witnessed countless tales of love and tragedy.

Harry reached the center of the square, his boots clicking on the cobblestones with a rhythmic certainty. He stopped before Colette, who remained motionless, her gaze fixed upon him with an intensity that belied the serene expression on her face. Her costume—a flowing dress of midnight blue, embroidered with tiny silver threads—whispered tales of bygone elegance as it caught the breeze, fluttering lightly around her ankles.

Clearing his throat softly, Harry began to recite Romeo's lines with a tender fervor that seemed to pull at the very air around him. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." His voice rose and fell in perfect cadence, each word a brushstroke painting emotions across the canvas of the night.

As he spoke, an unexpected gust of wind stirred the leaves around them into a gentle dance, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Romeo's heart as he gazed upon his forbidden love. The scent of rose and old stone mingled together, casting a spell over the scene that was palpable. The director, hidden in the shadows beyond the set's makeshift lights, allowed himself a small smile at the authenticity of this moment—cinema magic in its purest form.

Colette responded in kind, her voice carrying back to Harry with equal parts longing and restraint. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" She stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped before her as if to steady her racing heart. Her eyes never left Harry's, and in them flickered the fire of Juliet's love—a burning, all-consuming flame that acknowledged neither reason nor consequence.

The crew around them had ceased all movement; even those seasoned in film felt themselves caught in the spellbinding performance unfolding before them. The prop master forgot his duties for a moment, lost in the authenticity of Colette's accent and the palpable connection between her and Harry.

Above them, clouds began to drift across the moon's face slowly veiling and unveiling the celestial glow. This natural play of light added a dramatic flair to the scene below—an unwitting collaboration between man and nature that highlighted this poignant moment of shared solitude between two lovers cursed by fate.

Every detail was perfect, the way the lamplight flickered as though trembling with anticipation; how a distant owl hooted right at Juliet’s tender confession; the subtle shift of fabric as Harry moved closer to Colette—contributed to an atmosphere thick with drama and history. Even those behind cameras or holding booms felt as if they were no longer just creating but witnessing something transcendent; a story retold yet forever new in its telling.

As Harry delivered Romeo’s pledge of undying love beneath Juliet's window conceived anew beneath towering oaks and ageless stone buildings, it was clear this was not merely a recitation but an act of truth.

The director, normally a stoic figure shadowed by the breadth of his responsibilities, allowed a rare smile to creep across his face as the final words lingered in the air, trembling like the leaves around them. His approach was silent, reverent almost, as if stepping into a sacred space that the actors had conjured with their spellbinding talent.

"Cut!" he called out, but the word was soft, filled more with awe than command. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the collective held breath of the crew before they erupted into spontaneous applause. The clapping rolled through the set like thunderous waves, each member expressing their unbridled admiration for what they had witnessed.

The director raised his hands, beckoning for quiet, his eyes gleaming with both pride and something akin to gratitude. "That," he said, his voice steady but imbued with emotion, "was nothing short of magnificent. Harry, Colette—I've seen many a scene in my years behind the camera, but what you both have delivered today transcends performance. It reaches into the core of what it means to be human; to love, to despair, to hope."

He walked over to the actors, who were still nestled in their characters' final embrace, slowly returning to themselves as they listened to his praises. "Colette," he continued, turning to her with a respectful nod. "Your Juliet is both vulnerable and fiery; you’ve given her a depth that breathes new life into Shakespeare’s lines. And Harry," he turned with equal admiration to the young actor whose eyes still held a glimmer of Romeo's passion. "You’ve played Romeo not just as a lover but as a warrior fighting against the inevitable tragedy of his fate. Exceptional work."

The surrounding buildings and trees seemed to absorb his words, casting longer shadows as if in agreement. The director then turned towards the crew members who had captured every nuanced moment on film. "And let’s not forget the incredible work of our crew—lighting, sound, props—this magic can’t happen without each piece falling perfectly into place."

He clapped his hands together once more, this time signaling an end rather than silence. "Alright folks, let’s pack up here—remember this feeling of accomplishment. We’ve got early scenes tomorrow and we need to bring this same energy."

As they disbanded gradually, whispers of praise continued amongst them like quiet ripples on a pond at dusk; everyone shared part of the triumph. Juliet’s balcony scene would be remembered not just for its beauty and tragedy but for its vivid realness that evening under the shrouded moonlight—an echo of love carried softly by the wind through the leaves of those ancient trees.

As the crew began to disperse, the air filled with the clatter of equipment being packed and the soft murmur of satisfied conversations. Harry and Colette slowly walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, their costumes slightly less pristine than they had been at the start of the day but still radiant under the fading sunlight. The path was lined with ancient oaks, their branches gnarled and stretched toward the sky like silent watchers of countless tales unfolding under their gaze.

Harry glanced at Colette, noting how the evening breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. She looked ethereal, a stark contrast to the raw intensity she had displayed on stage just moments before. "You were truly magnificent today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the cool air. "It’s amazing how you transform so completely."

Colette smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. You were incredible as well. There’s a certain ferocity you bring to Romeo that’s both thrilling and heart-wrenching."

They reached the dressing rooms, tucked behind a curtain of ivy that draped over the stone walls of the old stage building. Its doors stood like portals back to reality from the whimsical world they had just left behind on set.

Pausing by her door, Harry shuffled slightly, a mix of eagerness and hesitation playing across his features. "Colette, I was wondering, would you... perhaps care for some dinner? There’s this little place I know nearby, quite secluded, perfect for winding down."

The offer hung between them like a delicate promise; a chance to extend the enchantment of their shared performance into the evening. Colette’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds lovely, Harry. A quiet dinner would be perfect." Her smile was inviting, bridging the gap between their on-set romance and off-set camaraderie.

As they walked towards Harry's car parked under a canopy of whispering leaves, they talked about everything from their interpretations of their characters to trivial anecdotes from their daily lives. The restaurant was nestled in an alley illuminated by strings of faint golden lights that created halos in the misty night air.

Inside, they chose a corner table surrounded by bookshelves filled with worn volumes and odd trinkets—a cozy retreat from the outside world. As they ordered, they continued to unravel layers of conversation, each topic a stepping stone deeper into each other’s thoughts and dreams.

The meal was delicious—simple fare but made with care—a reflection of the restaurant itself. They laughed over shared appetizers and lingered over wine that painted their thoughts in broader strokes. The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting soft shadows that danced to an unplayed rhythm.

By dessert, Harry found himself watching Colette with renewed appreciation as she articulated her ambitions for future roles and her vision for modern theatrical interpretation. She listened equally intently as he described his journey through being a musician and his aspirations beyond.

As Harry and Colette lingered over the last sips of their drinks, the cozy warmth of the restaurant began to feel like a protective cocoon against the crisp night air outside. They shared a quiet moment, smiling at the serendipity of their meeting and the depth of conversation it had spurred. But as they rose to leave, pushing their chairs back gently against the worn wooden floor, the surreal bubble they had enjoyed burst with abrupt clarity.

Stepping out onto the alley, they were met not by the quiet of the night but by a sudden burst of flashing lights and clamorous voices. Paparazzi, having caught wind of their dinner together, swarmed around them like moths to a flame. Cameras clicked and flashed relentlessly, capturing every gesture and expression, as reporters shouted questions trying to pierce through the veil of their private evening.

"Harry! Colette! Are you two more than just co-stars?" one voice rang out, sharper than the rest.

"Is this dinner a sign of a new Hollywood power couple?" another chimed in.

Shields up against this intrusive barrage, Harry instinctively placed a protective arm around Colette’s shoulders. He guided her gracefully yet swiftly towards his car, parked under the now ominous canopy of leaves that whispered secrets in a tone much darker than before. Each flash from the cameras cast stark shadows on the ground and painted their path in fast paced steps.

Colette kept her head down slightly, her smile replaced by a composed mask of cordial indifference; it was clear she was no stranger to these encounters but nonetheless hoped they might evade them tonight. Harry muttered a polite "have a good night" as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

Inside the relative safety of the vehicle, they exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation—and Harry let out a sigh as he started the engine. The lights outside continued to flash through the tinted windows as he maneuvered out of their parking spot.

The drive back was quiet at first, as if they were both processing the sudden shift from intimate conversation to public spectacle. Yet soon enough, Harry turned down the volume on an ambient tune that had started playing automatically when they entered.

"That was intense," he said, glancing over at Colette with an apologetic half-smile.

"It always is," Colette replied, turning to face him with a resigned smile. "But hey, part of our charming careers, right?"

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, charm is one word for it."

As the car glided through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Colette broke the tension first, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

"I sometimes wonder if this is what we signed up for, you know? The constant scrutiny, the invasion of privacy... Is it worth it in the end?" she mused, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his grip on the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly. "I ask myself that question too, especially on nights like this. It's like we're always under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by strangers."

A sense of comfort blossomed between them, a shared understanding born out of their parallel experiences in the spotlight. Colette turned to Harry, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.

"But despite all of that," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "we can't let them define us or dictate our every move. We're more than just their headlines and gossip fodder."

Harry smiled at her resolve, a flicker of admiration shimmering in his eyes. "You're right, Colette. We're artists first and foremost, creators of worlds and emotions."

Their shared conviction filled the car with a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet determination to reclaim their narrative from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. As they neared Colette's apartment building, Harry parked the car with a sense of finality.

"Thank you for tonight," Colette said sincerely, turning to face him with a genuine smile. "Even the chaos at the end, I truly enjoyed our conversation and dinner, it was really good."

Harry returned her smile warmly. "Likewise, Colette. We are more than just co-stars caught in a media frenzy."

As Colette opened the door to her apartment, the image of Harry in his Romeo costume flashed vividly across her mind. His appearance had been a perfect blend of vulnerability and valiance, his attire accentuating the expressive lines of his body as he moved with an almost ethereal grace on stage. The sheer, soft fabric of his shirt clung to him as if it were part of his own skin, and the way the stage lights had caught the highlights in his hair made him look like a figure from an old-world painting—romantic and heroic.

Inside her quiet apartment, everything seemed too still, too empty compared to the warmth of Harry's presence. She tossed her keys on the table absent-mindedly and moved towards her bedroom, her mind replaying their conversation in the car. His words echoed in her ears, blending with flashes of his smile and the intensity in his eyes when he spoke about their artistry. It was as if he'd stripped away all the glitz and scandal that so often cloaked their lives, revealing a raw, sincere connection between them.

Colette tried to settle into bed, pulling her covers close, but restlessness took over. Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling around Harry’s comforting arm around her shoulders earlier that night. She remembered how secure it felt, a protective circle that shut out the incessant flash of cameras and curious stares. The smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of bergamot and sandalwood—seemed to linger on her skin, transporting her back to their fleeting moments of privacy amidst the chaos.

The more she thought about him, the more details came flooding in. How his lips curved into a smile just before he laughed, how his eyes lit up when discussing a particularly passionate scene. Even the way he held himself during their performance—confident yet tender—seemed etched into her memory with surprising clarity.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned again in bed, fluffing her pillow in vain search for comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table glowed 2:17 AM; time was slipping by slowly tonight. Every tick seemed to resonate within the quiet room, each one reminding her of Harry’s gentle demeanor and unspoken assurances.

Why was it so difficult to push these thoughts aside? Why did every tiny detail of him seem magnified tonight? Colette knew that sleep would be elusive as long as these memories danced through her head, a sweet torment but a torment nonetheless.

Realizing that fighting it was futile, she sat up and reached for a book from her nightstand. Perhaps diving into someone else’s fictional world could ease her back from hers filled with all too real emotions spurred by Harry. Yet as she flipped through page after page, Colette found herself reading without absorbing any words. Her mind was back with Harry, reliving each moment spent together that day.

Finally surrendering to the inexorable pull of those memories, Colette set the book aside and allowed herself to reminisce about every glance exchanged and every laugh shared with Harry until tiredness eventually claimed victory over turmoil—a bittersweet end to an evening that neither camera flashes nor gossip columns could ever truly capture.

As the first rays of morning light began to filter through her gauzy curtains, Colette felt a tentative peace settle over her. The unavoidable sunrise not only heralded a new day but also the unavoidable return to set where today's scenes awaited her—scenes that would force her to bridge the gap between reality and fiction, between Colette and Juliet, Harry and Romeo.

The day unfurled slowly, each moment stretching languidly as if aware of the weight it carried. Colette arrived on set, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against the cage of her ribs. The set was a meticulous recreation of Verona, the air perfumed with artificial blooms that lined the faux stone balconies. It was here, beneath a painstakingly crafted balcony, that she found Harry already immersed in his role, his eyes distant yet filled with an intense purpose.

As makeup artists fluttered around them like attentive sprites, dusting their faces with powder and painting their lips, the boundary between Harry and Romeo, Colette and Juliet blurred seamlessly. The director—a wiry man with a penchant for perfection—guided them through their positions with an authoritarian yet oddly paternal touch.

"Remember," he said, his voice low and urgent as if conveying a secret, "this kiss isn’t just about passion. It’s about discovery, wonderment. You’re unveiling layers of your soul to one another."

Taking their places, Harry extended his hand with a gallantry that could either be attributed to him or to Romeo—it was hard to tell at this juncture. As Colette placed her hand in his, their fingers tentatively entwining, she wondered if he felt the same electric surge that ran up her arm.

The cameras rolled silently, capturing every nuanced expression. Around them, the crew faded into obscurity; it was just Harry and Colette, Romeo and Juliet. As Harry spoke his lines—the words Shakespeare penned centuries ago—his voice wove around her heart like a tender vine. His gaze held hers captive and in that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless unseen spectators both present and future, fiction turned into a palpable reality.

With the gentlest of motions indicative of both apprehension and certainty, Harry drew closer. His breath mingled with hers—a sweet prelude to the imminent ballet of their lips. When their lips finally met in an embrace as old as time yet fresh like dew on morning leaves, there was a hush on set so profound that even the rustle of fabric seemed sacrilege.

The kiss deepened not out of direction but from an intrinsic need to explore the burgeoning emotion that had started off as an onscreen farce but had bloomed into something indefinably real. They existed in the breath between lines; in the silence between words—their world distilled into the small space between their intertwined fingers and mingling breaths.

As they parted—an infinity encapsulated in seconds—their gazes lingered longingly; not solely because the script demanded it but because their souls hesitated to disentangle.

"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the thick curtain of emotion, abrupt yet not unkind.

Applause broke out among the crew, bringing Harry and Colette back from Verona to the soundstage. Yet something lingered in their shared glance, a spark that neither the stark lights of the studio nor the return to their own separate lives could dim. As they stepped away from each other, there was an awkward moment of hesitation, a mutual recognition of something undefined and new swirling between them.

The rest of the day passed in a daze of repeated scenes and whispered lines. Colette found herself more aware of Harry's presence, every look and every touch magnified under the scrutinizing lens of her newfound feelings. Off-camera, they joked and laughed, but there was an unspoken agreement in their smiles, a secret tucked away behind their lighthearted banter.

When filming wrapped for the day, Colette felt the exhaustion from emotional strain more than from physical demand. The carousel of her thoughts kept spinning as she drove home, the ghost of Harry’s touch lingering like a promise on her skin.

Back at her apartment, she knew she ought to eat something or perhaps review scripts for tomorrow's shoot. Instead, she found herself at her window, gazing out into the twilight cityscape, her mind replaying every encounter with Harry. It wasn't just their characters who had discovered new emotional landscapes; Colette feared she was standing on the precipice of a revelation herself.

Her phone rang, slicing through her silence. She hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was Harry. It was her agent instead.

"Colette! Todays news came in; you were absolutely sublime! Everyone’s buzzing about the chemistry between you and Harry," her agent enthused over the line. Though meant as praise, each word weighed heavy on her soul like stones filling her pockets.

"Thanks," Colette managed to say, her voice a mere whisper against the storm inside her. "That means a lot."

"Listen," her agent continued, oblivious to Colette's turmoil, "There’s talk already about future projects for you two—maybe even some endorsements together. This could be huge for your career."

Her career. Right. That’s what mattered. Yet as Colette ended the call and sat back against the soft cushions of her couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time, something else mattered more.

She finally allowed herself to consider the possibility that what was scripted for Romeo and Juliet might have woven itself into the fabric of reality for Harry and herself. Could life imitate art to such a degree? Or was it merely caught up in the whirlwind of creating something beautiful together?

The night deepened around Colette as she sat alone with her thoughts. She knew decisions lay ahead, decisions about how far she should let this potential off-screen relationship develop amidst their on-screen romance. Tonight though, she would allow herself one certainty: that in all her roles, both lived and acted, nothing had ever felt quite as dangerous or as genuine as whatever was unfolding with Harry.

The room dimmed further as the last strains of sunlight vanished, leaving only the flickering shadows cast by the streetlamps outside. Colette's mind, a whirlpool of longing and rationality, began to conjure vivid scenes of Harry reciting lines from their recent scenes. Each word, artfully delivered with his rich, emotive voice, seemed to echo through her now quiet apartment, filling the spaces between her scattered thoughts.

He had stood there on stage, beneath the opulent glow of the set lights, his eyes finding hers in the scripted moments that felt all too real. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Harry's voice had quivered slightly with a passion that transcended performance. Colette remembered how her heart had leapt at those words, how the scripted distance between them seemed to collapse in a singularity of shared emotion.

As Romeo, he had been impetuous yet earnest, his every motion weaving a spell of youthful ardor and desperate love. And now, alone, she let her mind replay those scenes—his beseeching gaze, his hands reaching not just for Juliet but for Colette herself. Could it be that each line he delivered was an arrow aimed directly at her heart? The balcony scene unfolded again in her thoughts: Harry's silhouette framed by the mock Verona backdrop they had on set. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," he had declared fervently.

Could stony limits hold her emotions at bay? Her career had always been a fortress of sorts—a necessity to keep vulnerability at bay. But Harry’s portrayal of Romeo dismantled her defenses brick by brick, not through sheer force but through the tender strength of shared vulnerability.

In her mind's eye, Colette wandered back to a moment during rehearsals when Harry had improvised—off-script yet profoundly resonant—speaking directly to her soul beyond the bounds of their characters. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." How his eyes had held hers, unwavering!

The thought brought an unexpected tear to Colette's eye—a tear for the uncertain future, for the potential hardships they might face together or apart, but also a tear for the beauty of a connection that might just transcend the ephemeral world of acting.

Colette rose from the couch and moved towards her window. Gazing out into the starlit cityscape, she pondered over these newly tapped depths within her heart. Perhaps tomorrow she would make decisions with consequences she couldn't yet foresee. But tonight belonged to dreams and whispered lines—a night where Harry's recitations from Romeo and Juliet swirled around her heart like a sweet yet potent incantation. Tonight was not about contracts or cameras. It was about understanding that what they might share could be as profound and real as any love story ever penned—an ode not written by Shakespeare but lived by two hearts daring enough to explore it.

As the hours ticked by, the city outside her window slowly transformed. The glaring neon signs dimmed to a soft glow, and the relentless honking of cars turned into a distant murmur, as if even New York herself had decided to catch her breath. In that serene quietude, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirping of a late-night bird, Colette's mind kept returning to Harry—to his eyes, his voice, his surprisingly delicate touch on stage.

She tried reading a book, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes as her thoughts danced back to those moments onstage when the air between them seemed charged with an electric intensity. It was in those moments when Harry's voice would deepen just so, casting out lines like spells that wrapped around her heart, binding it inexplicably to him.

Restlessness finally got the better of Colette. With a sigh, she set aside her book and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Harry's contact—for a moment she hesitated—but then, driven by an impulse she neither questioned nor understood fully, she pressed call.

The phone rang briefly before Harry's familiar voice filled the line. "Colette? Is everything alright?"

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed softly, the words feeling both foolish and necessary.

There was a pause—a thoughtful silence—and then Harry’s voice came again, quietly intense. "Come over, then. I’ve been trying to distract myself with scripts and lyrics, but it seems tonight is bent on being restless."

A small smile touched her lips; relief washed through her in gentle waves. "Give me twenty minutes?"

"Take your time," he replied with such warmth that it felt like a hug through the phone.

When Colette arrived at Harry’s apartment—a modest yet cozy space filled with stacks of books and paintings that spilled from every corner—she found him sitting on the balcony overlooking the twinkling skyline. He had two cups of tea steaming gently on a small table between them.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, he rose to greet her with an ease that belied his earlier restlessness. They didn’t speak much initially; words seemed superfluous as they sipped their tea and let the city’s nocturnal symphony envelop them.

It was only after both cups were emptied that Harry spoke again, his voice soft but clear against the backdrop of whispering winds. "You know," he began hesitantly, "tonight reminds me of our final act last week—the way Juliet looks at Romeo with such... such unguarded hope.”

"Yes," Colette whispered back, feeling that familiar pull in her chest—the inexplicable connection that seemed to thrive in shared silences and stolen glances rather than grand declarations.

"Sometimes," Harry continued, turning to face her more fully now, "I wonder whether we’re more than just actors playing parts—whether some scenes bleed into reality without us even noticing."

Colette reached out then, touching his hand lightly. "Maybe they do," she said simply. And for a long while after that, they sat there together—two figures etched against a sprawling cityscape—finding solace in each other's presence and in the quiet conviction that tonight was not merely about roles or rehearsals; it was about discovering truths hidden within lines delivered.

As the night deepened and the city's sounds ebbed into a lulling quiet, the conversation between Harry and Colette drifted from their characters' tragic romance to their own realities—careers that were as dazzling as they were demanding, personal lives constantly scrutinized by the public eye, and futures uncertain but full of potential.

"Sometimes I think about stepping away," Harry admitted, his gaze locked on the distant lights. "From the music, from the films—just to see who I am when the lights go off."

Colette nodded. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with her own unspoken fears. "It's as though we're constantly wearing masks, isn't it? Onstage or off, it's hard to tell where the character ends and where we begin."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Tonight though, being here with you—it feels real. No scripts, no audience." His eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.

She smiled, feeling a sense of kinship forge deeper between them. "No masks," she whispered.

They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in contemplation of the rare simplicity this evening had brought them—a stark contrast to their everyday chaos. Harry eventually stood up, stretching his arms towards the starry sky before offering his hand to her. "Come on, let’s take a walk. The night’s too beautiful to spend it all sitting down."

Reluctantly leaving their secluded spot, they wandered down quiet streets lined with barely lit cafes and closed bookstores, their steps synchronized in comfortable silence. Every so often, Harry would point out an old theater or a quaint little art gallery he’d visited during his tours. Colette listened intently, her heart swelling with an affection that was new and yet profoundly familiar.

As they turned back towards Harry's apartment, he stopped suddenly under a streetlamp’s soft glow. "I haven't felt this... peaceful in months," he confessed, looking at her with an earnestness that made her heart skip.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Neither have I," she said. "It’s easy to forget what quiet feels like when your life is full of noise."

Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "Do you think it's possible? To find peace amidst all the turmoil?"

"I think," she started, pausing to gather her thoughts under his attentive gaze, "it's about finding the right person to share in those quiet moments—the ones who hear the music in your silences."

A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he drew her closer. Underneath that streetlamp, amid the sleeping city and beneath an audience of stars, they found a momentary escape—not as Romeo and Juliet caught in Shakespearean tragedy nor as celebrities shadowed by fames relentless spotlight—but simply as Harry and Colette discovering solace within each other's company.

As they slowly headed back to his apartment, hands entwined with silent promises of more shared nights like this one, both understood that while their careers might pull them in different directions come morning, tonight was theirs—a night marked not by dialogues written by playwrights long gone but by honest words exchanged between two souls navigating through life’s vast stage together.

She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the roughness of his skin against her own soft palm, sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, taking in the way he moved, so confident and yet so gentle at the same time. Colette couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and occasional howl of a lonesome siren. As they turned into an alleyway, she breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the stale smoke from a cigarette butt left behind by some passerby. The stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across a midnight sky, their light guiding them home.

They walked hand in hand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, casting shadows on the brick wall behind them as they stepped forward. The rhythm of their stride became synced, almost like they were dancing to an unknown melody. Every now and then, Harry would point out constellations he recognized or make up stories about the ones he didn't, his voice deep and soothing like velvet caressing her ears. His laughter rang out when she teased him about his astronomical knowledge—or lack thereof—and she loved how genuine it sounded despite everything that surrounded them.

Colette paused for a moment to look at a painting on an old doorstep; it was beautifully executed yet marred by graffiti tags that told stories of love lost and hearts broken. Harry stood beside her, looking over her shoulder as if seeing it for the first time too. She noticed how his presence made even this decrepit alleyway seem somehow beautiful.

They continued walking, their steps echoing softly against the pavement as they neared Harry's apartment building. As they reached the front door, he stopped and with a flourish produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The metal jangled softly against each other as he unlocked it, and then they stepped inside out of the cool night air into the warmth of his cozy living room. Setting down her purse, Colette looked around at the familiar surroundings - the worn sofa, the bookshelf filled with favorite novels and framed photographs from past adventures, and the unlit fireplace waiting for winter evenings. The musty smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchenette.

"Well," Harry began as he shut the door behind them, "I guess this is where our little adventure ends."

Colette's heart sank at his words but she forced a smile anyway. "Yeah... it was fun while it lasted."

"It always is," he agreed quietly, moving towards her and giving her one last hug before gently pushing her towards the door. "You should get some sleep though, early morning meeting tomorrow."

With one final wave goodnight, Colette slipped through the door and into the hallway, hearing it click shut behind her. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of the cool night air and felt a slight shiver run down her spine as reality came crashing back in - work in the morning with its emails and deadlines and office politics. But for now, she allowed herself to linger on the memory of their night together: The taste of wine on her tongue still lingering; the soft buzz from alcohol fading; Harry's touch still lingering on her skin like tiny electric shocks.

As Colette closed the door behind her, she could hear the familiar clicking sound filling her with a sense of finality. The night air was crisp against her skin, carrying with it a chill that sent shivers down her spine as she took in deep breaths of the city outside. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening; it had been an unforgettable journey into a world she never imagined existed. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and now she found herself standing on the sidewalk once more, back in reality. The neon lights from nearby stores cast an artificial glow upon the pavement as she stepped away from Harry's cozy apartment and began to walk towards home. The sound of footsteps echoed on concrete as cars honked their horns in the distance, creating a symphony of urban noise that surrounded her.

She could still feel Harry's embrace pressing against her back as if he were wrapping his arms around hers again, sending tingles up and down her spine with each step she took away from him. She could still taste the sweetness of red wine dancing on her tongue - its tartness mixing with the lingering taste of their passionate kisses as if it were a bitter-sweet symphony only they shared. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the starry sky above; the sight always managed to calm her nerves but tonight it only served as a reminder that their time together was over.

The streets were empty save for a few late-night stragglers making their way home from parties or bars, their laughter and music fading into nothingness as Colette walked further down the block. A soft breeze rustled through trees lining the sidewalk, leaves whispering secrets only they knew while carrying with them.

Once Colette made it home she brushed her teeth and went into her cozy bed wrapped around in her favorite cotton pajamas, snuggling deep into the softness of her sheets. She reached over to her phone on the bedside table and saw Harry's name still glowing on the screen. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their last goodbye

As she drifted off, Colette imagines walking through Central Park once more. The crisp air rustled through trees, carrying with it the scent of autumn - earthy and musky. She could hear the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and see birds flitting from branch to branch overhead. They sat together on a bench, leaning against one another as they watched nature's greatest show for free. He held her hand closely, lacing fingers between hers as if they were always meant to be entwined like that. And then she felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another one on her cheek. They both laughed as they ran hand in hand towards his apartment; their shoes splashing through puddles left behind by an unexpected shower that cloud-covered sky promised earlier in the day.

Colette woke up with that same coolness brushing against her face but found herself alone in bed instead of curled up with Harry. The memory lingered like a fond dream but faded away with each blink until all that was left was reality.

Colette got ready and made her way over to the studio, today was the last day of scenes, and the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet their demise.

As she entered the bustling set, the weight of the final day pressed on her shoulders like a heavy curtain about to fall for the last time. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and melancholy, as everyone from the crew to the cast moved with a purposeful urgency, aware that this chapter was closing. Colette brushed past the props and costume racks, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Harry and the night that they had spent wrapped in each other’s company.

She found herself in front of her dressing room mirror, staring at her own reflection as she slipped into Juliet's intricate gown. Each layer of fabric seemed to wrap her tighter, not just in character but also in the realization that soon she would have to strip away this identity that had become a second skin over months of filming.

"Knock knock," came a familiar voice from the door. It was Harry, leaning against the frame with that charming smile that always seemed to disarm her.

"Hey," Colette replied, her heart skipping a beat. "Ready for the grand finale?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, stepping inside and helping adjust a loose strand of her hair. "It’s surreal, isn’t it? Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first lines together and today we die together."

Colette nodded, feeling the corners of her eyes moisten. "I'm going to miss us—this."

Harry took her hand gently, squeezing it reassuringly. "The end of one story, Colette. Not the end of everything."

Together, they walked onto the set where the final scene awaited them—a beautifully tragic conclusion to Shakespeare’s timeless tale. The set was a somber array of shadows and light, perfectly crafting an ambiance befitting their last moment as Romeo and Juliet.

As they stepped into their marks, silence enveloped the set. The director called for quiet on set and slowly, every surrounding noise dulled into obscurity until there was nothing but the fictional world they were anchored in.

"Action!" came the resolute call.

The scene unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the raw emotions both Harry and Colette felt. They delivered their lines with a palpable passion, their voices laced with the poignant realization of both the characters' and their own impending separation. As Romeo, Harry took a vial of poison, his hands trembling slightly—a detail that added a layer of desperate realism to his performance. Colette, as Juliet, lay motionless on the stone-cold crypt, her chest rising and falling subtly, awaiting her final cue.

When it came time for Juliet to awaken, Colette's eyes fluttered open to meet Harry's gaze one last time. The sorrow in his eyes was reflected in hers; no longer just acting, they were living their characters' tragedy. As she spoke her last lines, a tear escaped down her cheek, blurring the boundary between performance and reality.

The potent mix of fiction and their personal goodbye charged through their final kiss, drawing a silent gasp from the crew around them. As Juliet drove Romeo's dagger into her chest, Colette collapsed beside Harry with a grace that spoke volumes of the artistry she had poured into her role.

For a few heartbeats after the director called "Cut!" nobody moved. The echo of their lines lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. It was only when the applause broke out that Harry and Colette were pulled back from Verona to the stark reality of the studio set.

Still lying beside each other on the cold ground of the set crypt, they turned to look at each other one last time. The clapping around them faded into a distant murmur as Harry reached out to brush away another tear from Colette’s cheek.

“That was...” Harry started but seemed unable to find the right words.

“Beautiful,” Colette finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And absolutely fucking heartbreaking.”

They helped each other up and took a bow to the crew whose cheers had now filled up space like light flooding into dark corners. It was over — their journey as star-crossed lovers had come to an end on screen.

Just then, the director, a tall figure with a rumpled look that spoke of endless days and sleepless nights, stepped into the circle of light. He adjusted his glasses, looking from Harry to Colette with an expression torn between admiration and the perpetual dissatisfaction of a perfectionist.

"Truly magnificent," he pronounced, though his voice carried a but that hung in the air unspoken. The crew quieted, sensing there was more to come. "However," he continued, casting a quick glance at the cameraman who nodded sheepishly, "we had a slight glitch with the lighting. One of our key lights flickered out right at the crucial moment."

A collective sigh rippled through the team, mixed with a few suppressed groans. Yet no one protested— they all knew the importance of getting it just right.

"We need to go for another take," the director declared firmly. The disappointment was palpable, but so was the resolve to perfect the art they were all crafting together.

Harry and Colette exchanged a look of weary determination. Without a word, they moved back to their starting positions beside the stone altar that served as Juliet's final resting place.

As the crew reset their equipment, Harry glanced around at the towering set pieces that recreated Verona's gothic splendor. Artificial moonlight streamed through stained glass windows crafted from gel and plastic but beautiful nonetheless. Shadows danced along walls textured to look like ancient stone, casting eerie patterns that whispered of old secrets and timeless tragedies.

Colette smoothed her velvet gown—a rich crimson that pooled around her like spilled wine—and repositioned her hairpiece, tucking a stray lock behind her ear before she lay down once more on the cold faux-marble slab.

The props master darted forward to adjust the placement of the dagger—a replica so finely crafted it seemed as sharp as truth itself—before scurrying away as silently as he had arrived.

"Places everyone!" called the assistant director, a sprightly woman whose energy seemed inexhaustible. Her voice cut through the murmured conversations and last-minute adjustments, snapping everyone back to attention.

As silence reclaimed the set, encapsulating it in a tense bubble of anticipation, the director looked over his tableau one last time. Satisfied, he lifted his hand high then brought it down sharply.

"And... action!"

In a haunting moment, Colette delved deeper into her character, her eyes brimming with an unfathomable anguish originating not in physical torment but in the profound intertwining of loss and love. As she enacted plunging the steel through heart and bone with tragic precision, Harry’s response mirrored her intensity—his visage a masterful portrayal of despair and utter helplessness.

Silently, the cameras rolled, capturing each subtle nuance: the taut muscles beneath Juliet's delicate makeup; Romeo's trembling fingertips reaching across unseen barriers; Colette's quivering shoulders as she drew breaths heavy with sorrow. When she crumpled beside Harry once more, her descent seemed like a graceful surrender—a fragile leaf succumbing to its inevitable fall.

The seconds stretched endlessly until once again the director called out "Cut!" His voice broke through Colette’s final shuddering breaths and this time when he spoke there was no hiding his satisfaction. "Perfect," he said simply, nodding with fervor.

The applause that erupted was spontaneous and heartfelt, echoing around the cavernous studio like waves crashing against a shore. Crew members wiped away tears, caught in the emotional riptide of the scene they had just witnessed.

Harry and Colette, still entangled on the ground, finally allowed themselves a small smile—exhausted, relieved, and a little incredulous at the magic they had managed to recreate. As they stood up, their faces glistening with sweat and theatrical tears, they were enveloped in a series of eager hugs and congratulations from everyone around them.

The makeup artists hurried over with their kits ready to do touch-ups, but for a moment nobody touched Harry or Colette; it was as if their looks were sacred, perfectly capturing the essence of the poignant tragedy they had just embodied. The director approached them, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Colette on both cheeks.

"I couldn't have asked for more," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You both brought Juliet and Romeo to life in a way I never could have envisioned when we first started this project."

Harry, catching his breath, nodded appreciatively. "It felt right," he admitted, looking down at his costume, stained with artificial blood that somehow felt all too real at that moment.

Colette brushed a tear from her cheek and laughed lightly. "I think I'm going to miss her," she confessed, referring to Juliet. "It's strange how a character can become a part of you."

As they made their way off the set, passing through the constructed archways and past the fabricated stone tombs, there was a collective sense of completion but also of loss; the world they had created was temporary, its dissolution inevitable now that the film was wrapped.

The wrap party later that evening was a lively affair held at a local venue adorned with replicas of props and costumes from the film. The mood was buoyant yet bittersweet as cast and crew mingled, sharing memories from months of hard work.

Colette found herself standing by a balcony overlooking the city lights, a glass of champagne in hand. Harry joined her soon after.

"It's going to be odd not seeing everyone tomorrow," he said, leaning against the railing beside her.

"Yeah," Colette agreed softly. "It's like saying goodbye to family."

They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again.

"What’s next for you?" he asked curiously.

Colette shrugged slightly. "A few scripts to read; maybe some time off. And you?"

"Same," Harry replied. "Though it'll be hard to top this experience."

They smiled at each other, sharing an unspoken acknowledgement of the journey they had shared. The night grew deeper around them as words gave way to shared glances and laughter from inside reached their ears—a soundtrack to endings and new beginnings alike.

“Why don’t we get out of here, go to my place for a while.” Harry said while looking over at Colette.

Colette glanced up at the stars twinkling above, considering his invitation. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the distant sounds of celebration from inside. It felt like the perfect end to an intense and transformative day.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a smile that matched the lightness in her heart.

They excused themselves from the party, slipping away unnoticed among the throngs of well-wishers and fellow revelers. The city's streets were quiet as they walked side by side, their footsteps syncing in a comfortable rhythm.

Arriving at Harry's place, he unlocked the door and let them into his warmly lit apartment. Colette really examined the place. The space was tastefully decorated with various mementos from his travels and projects, each piece telling a story of its own. Colette wandered over to a shelf displaying several old cameras and script binders.

"This place has character," she commented, picking up a vintage camera and examining it closely.

"Thanks," Harry said as he went to fix them some drinks in the kitchen. "It's my little sanctuary away from all the chaos."

Returning with two glasses of wine, he joined her by a large window overlooking the cityscape. They talked for hours about everything—from their fears and dreams to trivial stories from set—each conversation thread drawing them closer, weaving a new layer into their friendship.

As dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft glow on the horizon, Harry poured them each another glass of wine. "To new beginnings?" he proposed, raising his glass slightly.

"To new beginnings," Colette echoed, clinking her glass against his. They sipped their wine in serene silence, watching as the city slowly came to life.

Harry's heart raced as he leaned in closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered urgently, desperation lacing his words. Colette's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, giving him permission to continue. And with that, Harry pressed his lips hungrily against hers, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the passionate kiss. Electricity crackled between them as their bodies molded together, fueling the intensity of their connection. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the taste of each other on their lips and the overwhelming need driving them both.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we filmed that scene.”

Colette's breath hitched at Harry’s admission. "That scene?" she inquired, her voice trembling with a heady cocktail of nerves and anticipation. He traced his thumb across the contour of her lips, nodding before reclaiming them with a renewed intensity that left no room for doubt.

"That damn scene," he murmured against the luscious curve of her mouth, his hot whispers making her shiver in response. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him against the softness of her body.

Colette's heart pounded in her chest as Harry's thumb traced the contours of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. His hot whispers sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

"That scene," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire, "made me want you even more." With that, he claimed her lips once again, his tongue diving deep into her mouth as his hands found their way up underneath her shirt. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of her breasts.

His touch sent electric shockwaves through her body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. She whimpered softly against his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he teased her nipples through her bra. "Harry," she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want this," he growled lowly, eyes dark and intense as they bore into hers. Colette swallowed hard before nodding frantically. "I do," she whispered back in a voice that shook with need.

Without further hesitation, Harry scooped Colette up into his strong arms and carried her over to the nearby bed. He set her down gently before kneeling down between her spread legs and gazing up at her with a hungry glint in his eyes. "You are so so fucking beautiful," he murmured approvingly as he ran his roughened hands up along the insides of her thighs until they reached their final destination: the lace-covered mound of between them.

Groaning lowly, Harry pressed his fingers against the damp material covering Colette's core and pushed them through the fabric to slide along her wet folds. She cried out softly as sensations she hadn't felt since that fateful day on set washed over her once again—sensations that only seemed to intensify now that they were alone together like this .

Harry's fingers slid deeper into Colette's wet folds, finding her swollen clit and circling it gently. She moaned loudly, arching her back as the sensations overwhelmed her. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh god yes," she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, Harry. I need you."

He pulled his fingers away from her core and stood up, pulling her with him. She stumbled to her feet, feeling unsteady from the intense pleasure he'd just given her. He backed her up against the wall, their bodies flush from chest to thighs. His hard cock pressed against her stomach, making her even wetter.

"You are so pretty, love.," he murmured again, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little hole. "I want you to feel every inch of me inside you."

Colette shuddered at his words, imagining how good it would feel to be filled up by him. She reached down between them and took hold of his cock through his pants, stroking it slowly as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered again.

Harry groaned deeply and grabbed hold of her wrists, lifting them above her head and pinning them against the wall next to her head. His other hand slid down between their bodies once more, pushing aside the fabric of their clothes until he could position his cockhead at her entrance. He looked into her eyes for permission before thrusting forward powerfully into her tight heat.

She cried out in shock and pleasure as he filled her completely in one swift motion. He began to move inside her slowly at first, watching as she adjusted to his size. But soon enough he picked up speed, slamming into her over and over again with a roughness that made Colette's legs shake uncontrollably beneath him."Fuck yes!" she screamed breathlessly as he took control of their coupling completely."

She could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling her while also leaving her wanting more. His grip on her waist tightened as he picked up speed, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook beneath them.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.

"God yes!" she moaned back, arching her back to meet each of his thrusts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. He reached down between them and rubbed circles around her clit with his fingers, sending shudders of delight through her entire being.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted, leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard. The sensation sent electric shocks straight to her groin, making her even wetter for him. She cried out his name as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, causing an explosive wave of pleasure that left her breathless.

Colette found herself begging for release as he continued to thrust into her unmercifully. "Please... I need you to cum with me!" She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the brink but didn't want it without him by her side. In response, he picked up the pace even more, driving deeper than ever before as they both neared their climaxes together.

Their bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Colette felt the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensations Harry was eliciting from her.

Just as she thought she could take no more, Harry’s movements became even more purposeful, his strokes deepening, each pushing her further towards that edge. His mouth left her nipple with a wet pop, traveling up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. His hot breath against her ear sent another shiver down her spine as he whispered, "Let go for me, love. I’ve got you."

And with those words, Colette felt the dam break. A powerful orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure pulsating through her as she cried out his name, her body trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed soon after, his own climax overtaking him with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering against hers.

As they both regained their breath, Harry slowly pulled back to look at Colette, his eyes soft now with a tender glow. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before easing out of her and helping her lay down on the bed. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in his warmth.

They lay there in silence for a moment, neither needing words to express what had just transpired between them. Finally, Colette turned to look at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “That was…” she started but seemed lost for words.

“Everything,” Harry finished for her, smiling back. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. “You were everything, my Juliet.”

Colette snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over her. What had started as an undeniable attraction had blossomed into something far deeper in these moments alone together. They both knew that what was happening between them wasn’t just fleeting passion; it was something that might just redefine their understanding of connection and desire.

As the night deepened, outside the confines of their intimate world, the city's sounds blended into a distant hum, almost like a lullaby meant to soothe them in their post-climactic serenity. Harry lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Colette's breathing against him, his thoughts meandering through the events that had led to this moment.

After what felt like an eternity bathed in silence and warmth, Colette stirred slightly, breaking the magical spell that had enveloped them. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability. "Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quietude. "What does this mean for us? For tomorrow?"

Harry’s heart tightened at her words. Tomorrow. With their lives so deeply entrenched in public scrutiny and their careers always on the line, the weight of reality began to dawn on him. Yet looking into Colette's hopeful eyes, all he wanted was to delay those worries, to live in this bubble for as long as they could.

He brushed his lips against her forehead softly, choosing his words with care. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet," he murmured softly. "Tonight, it’s just you and me. No labels, no expectations. Just... us."

Colette nodded slowly, nestling back into his chest. "Just us," she echoed, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of his promise.

They stayed like that for a while longer until sleep began to claim them, their bodies entwined in a quiet promise of the now with thoughts of tomorrow held at bay.

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bodyswap005 · 2 months ago

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"Switching Roles" Kevin Alvarez and Timothee Chalamet

Kevin Álvarez’s Perspective:

I’ve always dreamed of being an actor. Since I was a kid, I spent hours in front of the TV, mimicking my idols and imagining the bright lights of Hollywood. However, life took me down a different path: football. Now, with Club América, I’ve achieved something many consider a dream, but deep down, there’s always been a yearning for the cinema.

I remember the day it was announced that Timothée Chalamet would be coming to Mexico to promote "Dune: Part II." My excitement was palpable. Here was a talented young star, acclaimed for his acting, while I was just an emerging footballer, longing to be like him. I spent the days leading up to the match thinking about what I would say if I ever had the chance to meet him. But football was my reality, and for now, it was my priority.

On match night, the stadium was packed. The atmosphere was electric, and adrenaline coursed through my veins. As I ran across the field, I felt alive. Yet in the back of my mind, that voice kept dreaming of acting, of being part of stories larger than myself.

Then, everything changed in an instant. A ball, struck with force, flew into the stands and hit me. When I regained consciousness, I wasn’t on the pitch anymore; I was in an unfamiliar locker room, staring at a mirror that reflected Timothée Chalamet. Confusion and panic overwhelmed me. What had happened? How was it possible that I was in his body?

Facing life as an actor was terrifying. The cameras, the lights, the pressure of being in the spotlight… it wasn’t easy. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw someone I had always admired, but now I had to live that reality. I had to attend meetings and auditions, and while I initially felt like a fish out of water, I soon began to find my footing.

It was incredible to be in his world, surrounded by writers and directors, but I also felt out of place. The pressure to meet expectations was overwhelming. Sometimes, I wished to return to the pitch, where my skills were clear, and the thrill of the game filled me with life.

Yet there was something magical about the world of cinema. I learned to appreciate the art of storytelling and the dedication each performance requires. In one of those meetings, I remembered why I loved acting and how it had always been a part of me. So, I started to immerse myself in roles, to feel the emotions of characters, and to channel my own dreams through them.

Meanwhile, Timothée, in my body, was discovering the world of football. I could see his excitement and struggle. He trained hard, trying to understand the game and meet the expectations of being a professional athlete. With each match, I felt his desire to succeed and his respect for the sport. That made me realize how much love is needed in both disciplines.

The climax arrived during a crucial match. Timothée had to take a decisive penalty kick, and as I watched him, I felt a mix of nerves and pride. When he scored, a wave of happiness washed over me. In that moment, I understood that although we were in different bodies, we shared the same desire: to be the best at what we love.

Finally, fate brought us together again. In a strange connection, we returned to our original bodies. It was as if an invisible thread had pulled us back, giving us a new perspective on what it means to be an actor and an athlete.

Today, as I look to the future, I know I won’t abandon my dream of acting. I’ve learned to value every part of my journey, to embrace both football and cinema. Timothée and I shared an experience that bonded us in a unique way. Life is a stage, and I’m ready to shine on it, whether with a ball at my feet or on the big screen.

Part two here:

#body switch #male body swap #celebrity tf

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bengiyo · 5 months ago

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My Love Mix Up TH: The Adaptation Changes to the Class Play

I’m generally in favor of the cross-cultural adaptations of BL. I am on record saying plainly that I think the Thai version of Cherry Magic is the best version of the story we’ve seen brought to screen. However, I do not like what’s happening in My Love Mix Up and I need to talk about it. I’ve been thinking about the class play storyline since last Friday, and it bothers me because they fundamentally changed the messaging and themes around that sequence.

I want to take the time to compare and contrast both versions of this because after two episodes, the Thai version is basically in the same place as the beginning of episode 3 of the Japanese live action.

Kieta Hatsukoi’s Take

We begin episode 2 with Aoki sorting the love triangle he’s suddenly found himself in, before committing to helping Hashimoto connect with Ida even if he confused Ida by claiming the eraser was his.

Seeing an opportunity, Aoki accidentally signs himself up alongside Ida to help on stage setup.

Before our complications ensue, there’s only 1 day left before they put on the show.

I’ll skip over the portion where they’re working on the stage stuff for brevity.

The next day, the leads reveal that they can’t perform because they got sick, and so the class has to scramble, and pragmatically decide that the stage design team doesn’t have any other responsibilities during the play and have the time to fill in the role. The class suggests Hashimoto but she’s clearly nervous.

Aoki, wanting to help her, volunteers to play Cinderella.

The class decides to let him play and agrees as a group.

Aida suggests Ida play the prince.

The class rallies to prep cue cards quickly so they can still do the play.

Aoki is not a great actor, but he commits to the bit and is willing to wear the drag required for the role.

Ida is also not that great of an actor, but he looks good!

After the play, Aoki has changed back into his uniform during the class party, but Ida is still taking pictures with people at the class’s request.

The class president starts a celebration of Aoki and Ida, but then the jokes take a turn and make Aoki uncomfortable.

The teacher, Aida, and Ida are uncomfortable about this.

Ida chides the class for teasing Aoki, reminds them that he did it for their sake, and leaves an uncomfortable silence. Aoki breaks the tension with a joke about himself, and the teacher shuffles the class out.

Finally, Ida checks on Aoki.

The My Love Mix Up TH Take

The Thai version opens directly with the class play organization before doing a simplified voiceover to check in with Atom, who says he wants to help them.

I’ll skip over the same stage prep stuff, and the leads calling in. The class suggests Mudmee play the role, but she is nervous about being on stage.

Atom tries to volunteer instead, and is immediately shot down for gendered reasons by the female director and then the rest of the class.

Half encourages them to select Kongthap as the Prince because he says Atom gets tongue-tied when he’s nervous.

We aren’t given a sense of the timeline, but it feels like they have a few days to work on this since Mudmee leaves rehearsal.

Atom then stays behind to help Kongthap on his practice.

The day of the play, Mudmee’s stage fright gets the better of her, and so Atom takes the stage on his own.

The class rolls with it, and then two fill-in actors (one of which wasn’t recommended as an option because he gets too nervous and tongue tied) go on to nail three musical numbers that also include a dance.

Afterwards, Mudmee apologizes, and the female director says it was the class’s fault, so now is the time to celebrate.

Next, three boys begin to tease Atom in a most homophobic way.

Atom is uncomfortable, and Kongthap gets angry on Atom’s behalf. He chides them for teasing Atom who saved the class.

The female director then comes back, tells Kongthap he spoke well, and then kicks out the other three boys and their ‘toxic masculinity.’

After an awkward pause, the class is shuffled out for fireworks by another student, and Atom checks on Kongthap.

Why Point Out These Changes?

The reason why I’m so bothered about these changes is that it removes the collective responsibility from the story.

In the Japanese version, Aoki volunteers and the class agrees to support his choice. It then requires them to work together to scramble and make sure the play is as much of a success as it can be with two unprepared actors in the lead roles. It also means that Aoki and Ida aren’t actually great at either role, but Ida is attractive in his prince outfit, while Aoki is funny in his drag. The play is a success! However, it is also the class that begins to collectively tease Aoki in a somewhat homophobic way. The teacher looks on, uncertain, and it’s Ida who chides the class for giving Aoki a hard time after doing something to help them.

The fact that the whole class signed on to make Aoki Cinderella, and then teased him for playing an apparent queer role as a class matters! This works as a commentary about how we don’t mind enjoying queerness as entertainment, but then make fun of people for actually doing it. This lands especially hard because Aoki did this for Hashimoto’s sake, and he’s going through his own queer awakening. The role of collective homophobia, and how he is incapable of really hiding anything about himself, is a critical piece of the story to come.

In the Thai version, the class explicitly rejects Atom and highlights his faults for why he isn’t a good choice. He then goes on to defy them, I guess, to help Mudmee anyway? It ends up not working for me because I don’t see what the point of Atom being secretly good at acting and singing contributes here when the play is just an activity they’re doing for their class. I don’t know what role exceptionalism is meant to play here because he ends up defying the class to help them instead. Moreover, the play has been the most well-funded and stylish part of the show so far, and felt out of place for a small class production.

Perhaps I’m overthinking it. Because these are the leads from My School President, and GMMTV has concerts to put on, they need to amplify these school play scenes to sell tickets later. Is the brand management around Fourth the reason they didn’t have the class sign on because then they would have to put him in drag? Director Au was an AD and performer on Bad Buddy where they decided to do an m/m version of a classic play. Why not do the same here?

I also find it disingenuous that the female director is the first person to shoot down Atom for not being a girl as Cinderella, and then is the one to kick out the three boys for their apparent toxic masculinity. I think by making it Atom’s choice to take the stage, the boys’ choice to troll Atom, and the director’s choice to get rid of them, it reduces the social politics of socialized homophobia down to an individual problem. By removing the collective role of the class in this situation, the show loses the potency of the role we all play in the consumption and production of queer media and the tension between wanting these shows for entertainment while holding homophobic viewpoints.

I have other issues with this episode as an adaptation, but I wanted to focus on the big writing changes here. It’s frustrating because in a side by side comparison, the Thai show hits many of the same moments as the source material and the Japanese live action, but then it goes on to change and add things that generally confuse the story, and I wonder if that’s what contributed to some of the confusion in scenes I’m seeing from the actors in some of the new content (who I actually think are doing fine to good with the content). I also worry that removing some of the collectivist messaging and the supervisory role of a teacher is going to weaken a key storyline that should be coming in the future.

#Ben writes #my love mix up #my love mix up th #kieta hatsukoi spoilers #thai bl #bl series #long post #bl meta

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stuff-diary · 11 months ago

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Monster

Movies watched in 2024

Monster (2023, Japan)

Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda

Writer: Yuji Sakamoto

Mini-review:

Monster is the type of movie-magic that only happens when the very best talents in each field come together. We have Hirozaku Kore-eda's masterful directing, Yuji Sakamoto's humane and intelligent writing, Ryuichi Sakamoto's magical score, and brilliant performances from some of the best actors in the world. And I'm not referring only to legends like Sakura Ando, Eita Nagayama and Yuko Tanaka, whose work here is as incredible as expected. In fact, newcomers Soya Kurokawa and Hinata Hiiragi are the ones who truly carry the movie, giving two of the best child performances I've ever seen. No other filmmaker in the world can choose and direct child actors like Kore-eda, and he proves it once again here. Beyond that, Sakamoto's script displays the beautiful complexity that characterizes his writing. He builds this haunting, heart-tugging mystery piece by piece, in a way that only he could. Tbh, I accidentally discovered the big twist when the film premiered at Cannes. But, while I believe the twist would have floored me in the best of ways if I had watched it without knowing anything, I still found myself enthralled while seeing the story unfurl. That being said, I still recommend not reading anything about the movie before watching it. To sum up, I thank the universe for gathering all these incredible people so they could make something as special as Monster.

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 5 months ago

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PHIA SABAN PHOTOGRAPHED IN NEW YORK BY JULIA SARIY FOR ROSE & IVY MAGAZINE.

HOW HAS THE ANTICIPATION BEEN LEADING UP TO THE RELEASE OF SEASON TWO?

"It's funny because in order to make the show with any integrity, you cannot think about the scale of it at all. It has to be about the moment you're trying to make special and doing justice to the reality of the reality. I mean, it’s a show about dragons (laughs). I hope people will find it's a family drama and the dynamics are very human."

"You almost can't focus on what a big thing it is, but there's nothing like doing a press tour and going to New York, Paris, and London. You realize it is bigger than the soundstage in Watford (laughs). I guess the answer to your question is trying not to anticipate anything."

"That’s the other thing, it's fantastic when things are amazingly received especially since it has such a built-in fan base. People love it almost before it even exists, which is fantastic. It's been very warm and lovely how everybody has received us."

HAS THE EXCITEMENT AROUND THE PROJECT SUNK IN YET?

"When I watched the first episode, 90% of me thought, this is really cool—cool because I was watching my friends on TV. But 10% of me thought that's the way I've done it; it’s permanent and that represents me now and that’s quite hard. It's easy to feel a bit existential about it, especially when you've started with theater and went to drama school."

"There's something amazingly ephemeral about theater and the fact that it doesn't exist anymore once it's happened."

"When you have something with a big budget and loads of people working on it who really believe in it, everyone is so engaged in how to serve the story best, but it's not the same as theater. When you wrap that's the scene."

"It doesn’t have anything to do with me anymore, and it's going to be made into something else."

"During a play, the only people who shared the moment was me and everyone else in the room, and then it goes out into the ether. I am on the journey of finding that on the screen because it's not the same."

ABSOLUTELY, IT’S A LITTLE BIGGER OF AN AUDIENCE—IT’S INSIDE PEOPLE’S HOME, BUT TIMES MILLIONS AND MILLIONS!

"Exactly—that's a nice way of thinking of it, that it is still being shared. With a show that comes out with one episode a week, there's something communal about that. It can be a talking point at the pub or work, which I really like. When Succession came out weekly, I was like, I'm so glad I'm alive to watch this week by week (laughs)."

YOU MENTIONED YOU GRADUATED FROM DRAMA SCHOOL, AND THIS WAS ONE OF YOUR FIRST ROLES.

"I did have one part before, The Last Kingdom, a Netflix show, which is about Vikings and Saxons. I was in my third year of school, and it was during that third year Covid came. So we were all sent home and we didn't ever have that closure."

"But also, you're doing an acting degree and you think, the thing I'm in denial about is that this might not even happen for me. Then suddenly theater doesn't exist and you're back in your childhood bedroom. I mean, worse things were going on in the world, but I think that when I got that part in The Last Kingdom, it felt like magic. I couldn't believe it."

"I got to go out to Budapest for eight months. The cast was so warm and welcoming. I got the House of the Dragon job while I was on that job. I had a bit of time to wait in between them, but it was time I could obsess about the scripts that I did have and all my ideas about her."

CAN YOU WALK ME BACK TO WHEN YOU ACTUALLY GOT THE PART?

"It did take a long time before I finally got the part of Helaena. They were using dummy sides from a scene of Arya’s from Game of Thrones. I did it and thought it was a long shot because every actor my age in the world was probably taping for that part. I knew it was good to be seen by the casting director, Kate Rhodes James. I didn't hear anything for a very long seven months."

"In Budapest, there were whispers that some of the actors were getting auditions for it. I didn’t think it was going to come through for me."

"Eventually, I got a notice saying, they didn’t want me for that part, but to audition for the part of Helaena. When I came home for Christmas, I did the tape. It's so rare when you do a tape where you think, that's a bit of me and I really want to do this. Then I was back in Budapest and I got a text that said they wanted to meet on Zoom."

"So I met with the casting director and the two showrunners, and that just went by in a complete blur. After, I felt like an alien a few days (laughs). I kept having to put myself to sleep in order to not feel worried. One day I woke up from one of those naps and I had a text that said, you've got the part."

YOU GET TEXTED THAT INFORMATION–THEY DON'T CALL YOU! AT LEAST A TEXT CAN BE PRINTED AND GO IN THE MUSEUM ARCHIVE. YOU CAN CREATE SOME MEMORABILIA!

"That's true. I think either way it would've gone, it would have been just me blacking out."

CAN YOU SHARE MORE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER, HELAENA?

"What's interesting for me about Helaena is that she's in this unique situation. She's in the royal family and married to her brother, which she’s done for the family. It is a personal sacrifice."

"She's uncomfortable with what's expected of her. She doesn't like wearing those clothes. She doesn't like standing up there in front of the people and doesn't like being a figurehead or being projected on. She's got her own stuff that makes her feel safe and she wants to be in her own world."

"So we leave her growing up in a level of discomfort. For this season, I would describe it as a reckoning of what she's willing to accept and how far is too far. It's about family dynamics, inherited trauma, and the quest for us to understand each other."

IT MUST BE PRETTY FUN TO FILM THE SHOW ON THAT SET. ARE THERE ANY COOL MOMENTS THAT STAND OUT?

"The sets by set designer Jim Clay are incredible. They have built a castle inside the studios. I can walk into my bedroom, look around my bedroom, walk out, walk downstairs, the grand hall, go into my mother's bedroom, go upstairs, and go to the study."

"In a way, it's like a lazy actor's dream because you just look at something and it's real."

"My favorite moment of this year was when I got my first scenes that are properly in Helaena’s bedroom."

"She has this special interest in her insects and there are cabinets and cabinets filled with the most beautiful bugs and incredible things that had been designed to look like something that she would've sewn."

"She’s written notes all over her desk and dreams all over the wall along with these amazing drawings. I'm trying to think of the perfect way to describe it, but it was as imaginary as if somebody had created a child's imaginary world for them in real life."

WHAT ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF FROM YOUR WORK ON THE SERIES?

"That's a really big question. I'm proud I made a choice about this character and have stayed true to her. I try to make choices that are through the lens of specificity of this person."

"It's not even so much something to be proud of, but it's more like a gift that I'm in this position because you don't always get to play someone so particular. It's really exciting to get to make all of those choices for yourself."

SINCE YOU ARE THE START OF YOUR CAREER, ARE YOU SOMEBODY WHO HAS A VISION BOARD OF WHAT YOU'D LIKE TO ACHIEVE IN THE FUTURE?

"I go to the theater twice a week, so I almost see that as manifesting, just in that I put so much thought and energy into appreciating plays that I like. I'm letting it rub off on me."

"I'm also someone, who every time I watch a film, see a performance, or go and see a play I'm interested in, I log it somewhere. It’s a nice notch on the climbing ladder and helps in developing a strong sense of taste."

GROWING UP, WAS THERE SOMETHING THAT LEFT AN IMPRESSION ON YOU THAT INSPIRED YOU TO PURSUE ACTING?

"I was a kid who watched a lot of TV and films. I was really into Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I also did a huge amount of Shakespeare because nearby there was a small children's company that put on plays in the summer."

"I also had a crush on James Dean in films like East of Eden, but I also wanted to be Buffy."

"When you are in a small school and you're objectively the keenest person in the class, you get to play cool characters, parts that I would never play now in a million years. So I think of it all as influential."

IT’S SO INTERESTING WHEN SOMEONE HAS THAT FIRE FROM A YOUNG AGE AND THEN THEY PURSUE IT TO THE BIG LEAGUES.

"It's also about the positive energy of the people you have around you."

"I have had very supportive parents and teachers, so it didn't seem as much of an obstacle, but that's not the case for everyone."

DO YOU HAVE ANY FUN PLANS FOR THE SUMMER?

"I'm going to the End of the Road festival—I went last year for the first time and it was such a beautiful festival."

"I think I am going to go to Naples but I also hope I'm going to be doing a job."

"As an actor, you want to make these plans, but you also think, I could just stay home and wait by the phone instead and not do anything."

"But it's important to make the plans, but I kind of hope that something gets in the way."

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s2 #tv shows #team green #phia saban #queen helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen #helaena the dreamer #photoshoot #ny #interview #magazine

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haveyouplayedthisttrpg · 1 month ago

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Have you played THEY CAME FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE ?

By Onyx Path Publishing

The era of Hays Code compliant horror movies is over. No more black & white films of screaming women with beehive hairdos and scientists in tucked in button ups fighting Shark people in bad rubber suits. It’s the age of full color movies of cool cats in bell bottom jeans and foxy mamas with Afros visiting haunted castles and coming face to face with The Devil Himself. Based off late 60’s and 70’s low budget exploitation horror movies, players are actors playing characters based off common character archetypes from the genre. The dupe who wandered into the hotel full of serial killers by coincidence. The mystic who receives cryptic visions from seeing zombies rise from the grave. The Hunter who knows how to fight a werewolf with their own hands and other classic horror movie characters are playable. With the GM as the director to this splatterfest, prepare to tackle horrors in the 70’s and even the late 1800’s as you flash back to play as your past lives in a different era of horror. Stories could crossover between the two centuries as you can learn why the vampire who owns the discotheque has sworn to kill you in revenge for what your great, great grandfather did to him. Classic movie tropes, bad one liners and movie editing magic are your arsenal in this game. Can you fight and survive the undead and damned and make a cult classic?

#ttrpg #tabletop rpg #poll #poll time #usa #2020s #they came from beyond the grave

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positivelyholland · 6 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write something with Sebastian Stan x Daughter!Reader where Sebastian brings her to work with him

Magic of Movies

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x teen!daughter!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: i suck at summaries but its just exactly what the request says lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bright Los Angeles sun is already high in the sky when your dad drives through the studio gates. The bustling world of a movie set awaits you, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness.

As you pull up to the lot, you notice a mix of trailers, equipment trucks, and crew members moving purposefully around. The air buzzes with energy and anticipation. Sebastian parks the car and turns to you, a warm smile on his face.

“You ready for this, kiddo?” he asks, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

You nod eagerly. “Definitely. This is so cool, Dad!”

He laughs and ruffles your hair. “I’m glad you think so. Just remember, it can get a bit chaotic, but it’s all part of the magic.”

You step out of the car and follow him, taking in everything around you. The set is like a miniature city, with people rushing to and fro, each person focused on their specific task. You see camera crews setting up equipment, costume designers fussing over outfits, and actors going over their lines. It’s a whirlwind of activity, and you’re fascinated by every detail.

Sebastian leads you through the maze of trailers and set pieces, greeting various crew members along the way. Everyone seems to know him, and it’s clear he’s well-liked. You feel a surge of pride knowing your dad is such an integral part of this world.

As you walk, he points out different aspects of the set, explaining their purpose. “That’s the director’s tent,” he says, gesturing to a large structure with monitors and equipment. “They’ll be watching everything from there, making sure the shots look good.”

You nod, trying to absorb as much information as possible.

As you reach a large soundstage, Sebastian leads you inside. The transition from the bright sunlight to the dimly lit interior is jarring, but your eyes quickly adjust. The space is filled with elaborate sets that transport you into another world. You can hardly believe this is where the magic happens.

“Wow,” you whisper, looking around in awe. “This is amazing.”

Sebastian grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I knew you’d like it. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people.”

“Hey, everyone,” Sebastian calls out, drawing their attention. “This is my daughter, Y/N. She’s visiting the set today.”

The actors turn to you, their expressions friendly and welcoming. You feel a little shy under their scrutiny, but you manage a smile and a wave.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” one of them says, extending a hand. “I’m Jack. Your dad’s told us a lot about you.”

You shake his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. “Nice to meet you too. It’s so cool to see everything up close.”

The others introduce themselves, and you find yourself relaxing more and more. They treat you like one of their own, making jokes and sharing stories about working with your dad. You can’t help but feel like you’re part of this big, extended family.

After a while, Sebastian takes you over to the director, a woman with a kind smile and an intense focus. She’s surrounded by monitors, watching the latest takes with a critical eye.

“Hey, Sarah,” Sebastian says, tapping her on the shoulder. “I want you to meet my daughter, Y/N."

Sarah turns and smiles warmly at you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Your dad’s a great guy, and an amazing actor. We’re lucky to have him.”

You blush, feeling proud. “Thanks. It’s really cool to see everything you do here. I’ve always wondered what it’s like behind the scenes.”

Sarah nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a lot of hard work, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. There’s nothing quite like seeing a story come to life.”

You spend the next few hours exploring the set with your dad, meeting more people and learning about their roles. You even get to watch a few scenes being filmed, and you’re amazed by how much effort goes into each shot. Every detail, from the lighting to the sound, is meticulously crafted to create the perfect scene.

At one point, you find yourself alone with your dad, sitting in a quiet corner of the set. He looks at you with a smile, a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“I think it’s incredible,” you reply, your eyes wide with excitement. “I had no idea how much work goes into making a movie. It’s like a whole different world.”

Sebastian nods, his expression thoughtful. “It is. And it’s a world I’m really passionate about. I’m glad you got to see it firsthand.”

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth and connection with your dad. “Me too. Thanks for bringing me here, Dad. It means a lot.”

He reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Of course, kiddo. I’m glad you’re here. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll be part of this world too.”

You feel a spark of excitement at the thought. “Maybe. I think I’d like that.”

The day continues, and you find yourself immersed in the magic of filmmaking. You watch as your dad transforms into his character. You see the work between the cast and crew, the way they support each other and work together to create something amazing.

As the day comes to an end, you find yourself feeling a little sad to leave. You’ve fallen in love with the world of movies, and you’re already looking forward to your next visit.

On the drive home, you and your dad talk about the day’s events, sharing your favorite moments and memories. You feel a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity to see your dad in his element, and for the chance to be part of something so special.

“Dad,” you say quietly, looking over at him. “I had an amazing time today. Thank you for bringing me.”

Sebastian smiles, his eyes filled with pride and love. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Y/N/N. You’re always welcome on set. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one behind the camera one day.”

You smile, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought. “Maybe. I think I’d like that.”

As you pull into the driveway, you feel a sense of contentment and joy. Today was a day you’ll never forget, a day that brought you closer to your dad and opened your eyes to a world of possibilities.

You know that whatever path you choose, you’ll have the love and support of your dad, and that’s all you need to face whatever comes your way.

As you head inside, you can’t help but smile. You know for a fact that with your dad by your side, you’re ready for anything.

#sebastian stan x daughter!reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #x daughter!reader #positively holland #stan!reader #sebastian stan daughter

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unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year ago

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𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑃𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠

A/N: I feel like this sucks but it would still do, I hope yall like it! This is also like the story of how director!reader and Ben got together in my "Shadow and Bone Chronicles AU" but could still be read seperately.

Taggings: @augustwithquills @idohknow @bloody-mf-bsc

Today will be hard, was his first thought when Ben woke up and started getting ready for the "hangout" you planned. It had been a long time since you two actually talked yet alone go to a place together. Between presses and shooting, the only form of communication between you two was texting and occasionally video calling.

And even they weren't able to fully ease his painfully beating heart.

He had stopped seeing a friend in you a long time ago. To him, it was way past that point. With your childish side coming out with him, showing your love through your sarcasm and bullying which made everyone laugh as he flushed, trusting him so much to the point you slept in his house whenever it became late, and how you always magically knew something was wrong with him and offered everything possible just to see him crack a smile...

It was the little things, the way you silently cared for him and did little things that made him fall for you.

Hard.

He paced around his room as he looked for his outfit, anxiously looking at his reflection in the mirror. Did he look fine? He wasn't too much, was he? Was he underdressed? He should have asked what you were going to wear-

"You aren't turning back to your anxious and weirdly worried self, are you?"

Jack's voice shook him from the deep turmoil he was close to putting himself in as Ben looked at him with an annoyed yet affectionate look at his brother who was leaning over his door. "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you don't overthink." He huffed out a laugh as Ben grabbed his phone and wallet and brushed past him, letting out a laugh as his brother swatted his back and followed him. Being back at his parents' house, alongside his brother, had been the best decision he had ever made. Between shooting, going on stages to sing and doing press, he was exhausted and he rewarded himself with a month of full rest and just being Ben.

Not Ben Barnes, the actor the world knew.

He smiled softly to himself as he got out of the house, almost with a skip to his steps and trekked towards where you would be waiting for him. Though the sunny weather eased his mind and brought warmth in him, there was this... Disturbing ache and beating of his heart.

And the voice that always told him something was wrong, even in his best days.

Good guys never get the girl, don't get your hopes up...

That thought suddenly made him halt, close his eyes thightly and continue walking. His heart felt heavy at that unspoken fact, squeezing and contrasting painfully. That was something he was used to experience, it always happened to him anyways, leaving hım heartbroken.

And he really didn't understand why women tended to go after men, rather boys, that could never treat them right.

But deep down, all this worry and negative voice was because of... His feelings for you.

He wanted to confess, to tell you that he liked you for a long time now, wanted to wrap his arms around you as he inhaled your smell and savored your warmth and love. He wanted to sway you to a song only you two heard, cook with you and then perhaps throw flour at each other like in those cliche romcoms.

He wanted to tell you about his day, talk to you, call you freely without worrying about anything, call you sweet names, share his life with you and talk about it as you both laid on your beds, crack jokes to make you laugh as he would bask in the sound of its melody...

Yes, he was a hopeless romantic but it had always been like that anyways.

He was just good at hiding those intentions behind care and flirting. But it was perhaps obvious in the way that he had been acting, that he was searching for a commitment and serious love, that he thought about settling down with the woman of his life.

But could he really do that? He didn't even know if you felt the same, would it really be worth risking your friendship? Besides, there were other things to worry about as well. He wouldn't be there all the time for you and you for him even if he wanted, and you two would have to rely on the net while missing each other... And perhaps, you would get tired of him and this constant time of being away, want to find someone who could actually take time for you and give you everything you deserved and made you happy-

But just as when his thoughts started to slightly overwhelm him, he heard your voice steadily coming closer to where he was waiting for you... Alongside with the hard "pat!" sounds your shoes made against the pavement.

"Hello,Ben! I'm sorry I was late, I had to run here..." You panted and came to a stop when you reached his figure that was looking at you with worry as he helped you straighten up. His hand rubbed your back and he widened his eyes at how hard and fast your heart was beating, so much so that he could feel it through layers of clothes and skin.

"But why did you run, Y/N? Your heart beats like crazy, let's sit down a bit-"

"Because you were waiting... I didn't want to make you wait."

And it always does that flips whenever I'm near anyway

He widened his eyes at what you said, and couldn't help but let his heart make those flips too as he slightly blushed. You panted harshly to get more air into your lungs after running for 15 minutes straight. It wasn't your fault that the bus you took broke down in the middle of the road, but perhaps remembering sometimes, that you were also a famous who had her own car would help.

"So... Let me give a big hug to my favourite actor and friend! You were so good as the Darkling and excuse you, how dare you make me like him..." You got up with a wide smile, arms wide open as you rambled about his latest work and gushed out because God knew what those costumes and raspy voice of his did to you. This was perhaps the most futile attempt you had ever done, trying to conceal your feelings for the kind man before you.

You always knew Ben was handsome, charming and everything a woman could ever want in a man. He was kind, generous, cute and excited like a puppy most of the time and they were all the reasons you fell for him.

A grave mistake on your end, because he could never like you in that way. Why would he, when he could have anyone, when there were many who wanted him?

But as you gushed and buried your apparent affections for the man before you, you didn't realize how his smile slightly faltered and dropped, his eyes casting down with thight and pained lips as he bit them, hands thightening inside his pocket.

Of course, you didn't see him that way...

Against all odds, Ben let himself believe that Jack and pretty much everyone was right about his feelings and that you returned them.

What a fool he could be...

Maybe he was supposed to be more direct? Like a dinner date and not a hang out? But yet again, you were the one who prepared this and specifically called it a "hangout", not a date.

If he was in his house, he was sure he would have thrown a book or two at the wall angrily and eat himself up as he sat on his couch.

Contrary to what people believed hım to be, an effortless flirt, he wasn't. Not when it came to genuine feelings he had been harbouring for such a long time. He had dated before, obviously, and though he used to felt a spark to the women he dated... All of them went away after some time. He never felt that dizzying feeling whenever he was near them, or wanted to spend every waking hour with them, to know and listen to how they are, to be there for them in any way possible and shoulder their weights like it was his own...

He never felt that desperate for a girl before and this enough told him that his feelings were going to get even deeper as more time passes, and not go away.

Besides, he wouldn't be able to do so for so long since you always found a way to be there for him and surprise him, making it near impossible to stay away from you as he would always grin widely in response.

Such as his birthday, when you suddenly appeared from inside the box with a huge cake between your hands, obviously getting into it with the help of his castmates even if you were "supposed" to be working away from him but came here just for him anyways, a decision he had come to realize that brought tears to his eyes and squeezed at his chest.

You were effortlessly kind and considerate, and he really wanted to be mad at you for making hım feel like that, be vulnerable at your presence so much but he also knew that you had nothing to do with the way his heart felt about you and your stupid smile.

And he can't, he just can't hate you, be mad at you. He is rather mad at himself, for not listening to his friends who always said good guys never win, he is mad at himself for imagining things, dreaming of you and him together so much that he thought they could come true.

But what if...

He was about to cry tears of frustration every time he backed away from letting his intrusive thoughts win and just scoop you in a bear hug, kissing all over your face.

Such as right now, as you were trying to pinch his cheeks cutely, unaware of what you were doing to the poor man who was sure to smoke at this point.

"you are cute whenever you have that look on your face..." You giggled at his pouting and crimson face as he tried to cover it up by coughing and offered you his arm as you both walked together silently, acting like having you pressed to his body wasn't affecting him, making him almost loose his balance with tripping on his own feet.

As your eyes were glued to the road ahead of you, you didn't realize his focused gaze on you while he looked at your face secretly. There were eyebags under your eyes, something you were insecure about it sometimes but he found them adorable.

Especially when you smiled and alongside your cheeks, they made your eyes almost disappear by how big of a smile you had.

You got more skinny, perhaps a result of working too much. He knew your tandency of overworking yourself and forgetting to eat, since he had to force you eat many times as you would blush and admit your mistake with cheeks full of his food.

But there were some pleasant changes with you too. First, your hair which was a different color that suited you better and they framed your face perfectly. Then the change in style came too. You always used to dress more comfortable and sporty, refusing to show your curves or skin even though many complimented you when you showed them...

And now... you were more confident with everything about you and he couldn't be happier at seeing you love your own body.

He didn't actually know if that was a good change because many people were already looking at you up and down with eyes that definetly wasn't friendly which made his blood boil inside him...

And as you dragged him to the Lego shop, he knew that he would still have all of you and fight whoever dared to wipe that wide smile on your pretty face.

"Please, please, please! Look, I'm telling you, this one is expensive, I'm not gonna lie." You stopped Ben from saying anything with defensive hands to his way, standing behind the huge Hogwart's building lego set and made your best impression of puppy eyes, begging him while he was looking at you with teasing eyes, lips drawn up softly as he eyed the many items behind you.

As soon as you both entered, you disappeared from Ben's sight and he was left shocked behind you as he ran after you, wondering how you could be that fast. He chuckled under his breath at your excitement and it soon turned to full laughter when he found you looking at the lego set with heart eyes, with your hand clasped together and he had to refrain from buying it.

He coughed once, twice to cover his flushed cheeks and tried to make the best impression of being serious.

"Don't you think It's a bit expensive?" His eyes softened when you pouted and turned to look at the price tag, and he already knew that he would buy whatever it is that you wanted to have just to have your smile.

"But... We can split? This one is soooo big anyways, and I don't have enough room in my home." You laughed giddily, trying your chances with him as you showed how big it was like a child being asked how much do you love me and Ben smiled at you, standing next to you as he took a look at the box. He had to admit, that one looked... Way too good to not to buy, just like you insisted.

But he has to be stern! He wasn't as much of a simp as his brother and pretty much everyone pointed hım out to be!

"Don't you already have enough Lego sets in your house, love?" He turned his eyes to you, not realizing the sweet nickname that passed his lips as you blushed and stared at his soft and kind dark brown eyes with a stuttered breath. He leant over to you with his hot breath over your face, his stubbled and handsome face making your heart flip as the way he thightened his jaw sent you in a frenzy.

Suddenly, the air had gotten hotter and you had to fan yourself and take a step back from him before you did something you might regret later... Like jumping on him right there and there.

"I do? My mom keeps telling me to get rid of a few of them, asking how I live in there.... And besides, look! " You took a box that held the Funko POP figure of Sirius Black and showed it to him, in which he playfully raised a brow at, chuckling at your childish side that came out whenever you two hang out together and took the box from you. He already knew that he would buy whatever you wanted as soon as he saw how excited you were but it didn't hurt to tease, right?

"This one is you, in another universe, begging you to buy him~"

you shook it from side to side with a cute pout and came closer to him with small steps, peeking around the tiny corner of the box as he giggled at your antics.

"I haven't played Sirius Black yet, love..." he pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing, but it made you gasp dramatically and look at the box and then at him and back to his amused face with an offended gasp.

"But you ARE the Sirius BLACK?" you raised your brow in the Rock way, giggling when he shoved you away gently and shook his head at you. You were a big Harry Potter fan and openly, very openly indeed, fangirled after Sirius Black at any chance.

There were times he caught you watching edits of Marauders and cry, which he couldn't lie that was cute, and often comforted you.

He had to admit fans had some real talent with making edits that real.

And also, these would be one of those times that you swore you would one day make the Marauders TV series a reality and him as Sirius. He would chuckle and agree, if you ever decide to do that for real, and though he tried not to show his enthusiasm, you knew he was also excited at that idea but didn't tell outright to not put a weight on your shoulders.

Another reason to love him and also make this shit real.

"If you buy me this... Who knows, maybe a big surprise will be waiting for you at home~"

He was a damn almost-40 man, did you really think you could deceive him with such thing?

How old was he? Five?

But...

"Oh? Are you bribing me with a surprise?" He couldn't help but give only one fast glance at what you were holding and... He was so close to caving in, calling it a day and buy whatever you wished to buy.

Life was short, you gotta have fun, right?

Besides, you were using that puppy eyes and please you always cutely did with the battings of your lashes and pout, and he was a complete sucker, weak at the knees for the combination of the two cutest thing on the lovely face of the most adorable person he knew.

"Because it's working!"

You cheered loudly with a clap of your hands and a quick twirl, sprinting to the shelves in a hurry. You seriously thought he was gonna say no, by the hard look on his face and squeezed eyes he often did whenever he either thought about something or was getting ready to refuse an offer.

What can you say? He was a damn good actor, one hell of a kind even.

After you both were finally able to wrap everything up, and you forced him to make lego versions of each other which he was reluctant first but soon found himself making little versions of his friends and family too much to your enjoyment as he had the most gleeful look, you finally pulled him to where you could finally pay for everything.

Even though you had to hold the neck of his sweater and force him, much like a mama cat.

But now, you had to distract him someway because... Well, you forgot that half of the things were actually his birthday surprises, unknowing to him, and you had to pay for them before he did.

"Hey Ben..." He hummed at you when you tugged on his coat and looked down from sideways. His handsome face was full on display, the sharpness of his jaw making your knees turn to jelly momentarily before you pulled yourself together and smiled at his grinning face, eyes twinkling in happiness as a little strand of his hair escaped from the beanie he wore.

"Did you know you can make legos for your animals too?"

"You can?! Why didn't you tell me this before! I'll be quick, just wait a few minutes, okay?" You laughed as he hurriedly got out of the line, all the while sprouting I'm sorry's to the people left and right while momentarily holding their shoulders to not to bump into them harshly.

Another fact about him that was so loveable.

You sighed lovingly after his back, watching him miss the first turn and then flusteredly look at you as he turned back to the right one and smile. You giggled at his silliness and shook your head.

For an adult, he surely didn't act like one.

"Hmm, what a lovely couple you are... It's been so long since seeing two people so in love."

You slowly turned back to see a short, old woman holding her grandson's hand while they too waited in line, all the while smiling kindly and staring knowingly with a mirth of a future-mother-in-law type of way at you.

"Did you," you pointed between you and Ben at a distance coming over to you fast, with a shocked face as he watched you with red cheeks, smiling bashfully at the older woman's soft yet teasing eyes.

Oh, shit... He heard her, oh my God this is so awkward!

"... mean us? Pftt, no ma'am, we aren't dating, we are friends. He is just buying me the gift he couldn't buy."

Even though I wish he was something more...

You waved her off as if it was no big deal, trying and probably failing to conceal your flustered state as if being mistaken as a couple bu ithers didn't make your heart launch at your throat.

The older lady, who came with her grandchildren, only hummed in thought and nodded and you swore you saw the playfulness that came with youth in her eyes for a second. "Well, that young man doesn't look at you like a friend."

And as if she didn't just drop the biggest bomb at you, she took a hold of her grandchildren's hand and let them guide her away in yet another shelf after they left the toys near the cash.

You gazed after the woman with a slacked jaw and couldn't help but think about her words.

What did she meant by "He isn't looking at you like a friend does."?

What do I not see? Had I been... Blinded by my insecurities?

No, that was impossible. Because come on, it was obvious that he had a type in woman and you definetly didn't suit that. Besides, it wasn't like Ben to shy away from confessing or telling you about his feelings so, there was literally no reason for him to hide if he liked you back.

You weren't the Boogeyman, right?

You were silently, and slowly, drowning in these thoughts when a thoughtful-looking Ben came back with three more lego sets for the animals he knew and loved and you couldn't help but worry about him.

"Ben? Are you okay? You were fine like 15 minutes ago..."

"Yes, I am fine... Have you payed for everything?" His eyes slowly drifted towards your hands that was full of the sets, nodding your head at hım as he hummed and went to pay for the other three he got while you were left dumbfounded at his... Sudden lack of excitement.

He was just fine as he went to that shelves, what happened in just 15 minutes I wasn't there?

As you trailed close behind him, since that man was tall and his steps were bigger than yours, Ben was thinking back to what had happened in the store. How that old lady called you "his lover" and how he grinned like a kid being given his favourite toy at a Christmas day. He was beaming with joy inside at seeing other people being able to witness the traces if love in his actions, face and gestures since this, was the kind of man he was.

Proud to show off his loved ones as long as they deemed it okay and safe.

But the bitter pang of you refusing it so blatantly and quickly squeezed his poor heart harshly.

Why did you always look like it was such an absurd think to be seen as his girlfriend?

Before this day, he would have thought that it might have gone as far as disgusting you. But soon, he realized that it was far beyond that after he saw you blushing and loosing track of what you were gonna say or do whenever he leant a bit closer, or hugged you thightly.

Both different from how you used to act with him before.

Yet, he didn't want to get his hopes up only to crush when you rejected... That is, until that lady in the store came and literally knocked some sense to his "thick" head.

That girl is madly in love but doesn't know you also are, even a half-blind old geezer like me can see it!

That was exactly her words.

At first, he tried to go back against her words, telling her how wrong she was... Then he noticed what she said first and now, he was a mess.

What is he supposed to do now?!l

"Hey, Ben? There is actually something I want to talk to you..."

Now, that was the most couregous shit you were about to do in your whole life besides choosing your line of profession and that one time you decided to cross roads without holding your parents' hands.

Ben isn't the kind of man to throw someone aside for such thing, is what you thought as you took deep breaths to calm yourself down and stared at his lips as his nervous eyes found yours. You hated to be the cause of that, especially after such a fun day out, but... If you didn't do this, it would haunt you even in your dreams and regrets would wash over you for the rest of your days.

"Sure, of course... Look, if It's about-" he started with a dejected sigh, full on expecting you to tell him that the idea of being together or anyone entertaining such idea was wrong and stupid.

"I have had feelings for you for a long time!"

Yeah, no he was hearing voices that wasn't actually-Wait, what?

You rushed the words out in one breath, fearing that if you waited even a second, you would loose all your courage. That short time of your adrenaline rush was soon over, and you were left as a jittery mess before his shocked eyes as he tried to understand the situation he suddenly found himself in.

A situation that seemed like it was out of his dreams.

"Y-You... You have what?"

You groaned in embrassment while avoiding looking up, knowing the look of rejection even without doing so.

Oh, only had you done it... You would have seen the bright red face he supported with the cutest, boyish smile ever.

"Look, I know you don't feel the same but do you really have to-"

"Who said I don't?"

This time, it was your turn to become the shocked Pikachu but Ben wasn't done yet.

"This... Do you know how long I've been waiting for this moment?"

Double shocked Pikachu.

Your brain was turned into a putty, short curcuiting every second as it tried to understand what it was hearing. Maybe it was the cold weather? Maybe you brain froze and now was replaying the recent pleasing dream-

"I-I... You have?" You asked with a weak voice, hope lacing every single part of you as your eyes shone with love and expectations. His eyes softened at how fragile you looked, so dependant on what was going to leave his lips. He knew you tried to avoid confrontation as much as possible, especially when you weren't sure about the outcome.

This must be already hard for you to do and here he was, being all silent and staring at you which was probably even more nerve-wracking.

But you just seemed so cute, so adorable with that cute pink over your cheeks all the while looking up to him! He was just dreaming about how soft your cheeks must be, so squishy and warm because of the cool wind-

"Are you gonna say something?" You pouted at his face, still staring at you with a stupid smile as he let out a soft chuckle at your angry face, feet stomping like a bunny.

You didn't understand what was taking hım so long just to form a simple sentence. Yes or no, simple! You were the one who made leap of faith, the one who was close to having a heart attack and he was just grinning, shuffling on his feet excitedly-

"I love you too..."

You laughed out in glee at it, like a kid being given a hefty amount of chocolate and jumped up happily. At moments of pure excitement, humans lost track of what they did and that was exactly what happened as you moved to kiss his cheek but ınstead landed a smooch on the corner of his lips.

You kissed the corner of his lips...

You... Kissed... The corner... Of his mouth...

He slowly covered back from the shock as he watched you, a hand on his lips while disbelief was written all over his face and eyes. The epiphany od the moment nearly blinded him and he was sure his heart literally dropped but was them set aflame wildly.

Upon realizing what you had done,you stood there with your hands still on his chest to balance yourself... But when you came back to your senses, you left the bags between his hands and ran away with flaming cheeks, leaving an utterly bewildered, shocked yet happly in love man in the middle of the pavement as he stared longingly after you, already planning the next 100 dates ahead.

Dinner at Barnes' household was never quiet.

It was walmost tradition at this point, Ben and Jack bickering with each other go the last bite of the meal or one of them talking about their job as the parents listened...

But never in like 40 years that it had been that silent. And Tricia had a very good guess as to why with just one simple glance at her blushing eldest son who very much so resembled the kid he once was.

Tricia, as the observant mother she was, just stared at her eldest son eating... Like a proper human being for the first time with a small smile, and chuckled to herself. Ahh, what love does to people...

Hearing their mother sigh deeply, both Ben and Jack looked at her weirdly as they stopped eating. They stared at each other as if asking what the other did, nudging each other, even if they were literal adults, but in the end, Ben was the only one able to ask her as he gulped down his food.

"Mum, what's wrong?"

"You're in love and didn't tell me."

A snort left Jack as he tried to hold himself back from full on cackling as Ben shot him a look and turned to his mother with slightly blushing cheeks, eyes wide and full of wonder at how she was able to know this.

Did she really have eyes at the back of her head?

He really hoped and tried his best at hiding what just happened to him a few hours ago, even though the blush on his cheeks and the heavy shopping bags full of gifts made it pretty obvious.

"Where... where did you get this idea from?"

But he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day and Ben wasn't going to make today his last day of peace. Because he knew...

He knew his whole family, down to the very end of both his parents' side, would tease him endlessly for his "obvious" crush on you, especially more than usual if they heard you and him were finally together.

But unforfunately, he was the one getting caught of guard when his mum noncholantly shrugged her shoulders and continued to eat as normal, looking at him above her glasses with a happy grin.

" Because, you finally eat without smacking your lips. Someone finally was able to chip that habit away... Which only a woman would be able to do."

"More specifically... A pretty co-worker of yours who goes by Y/N~"

Ben was left absolutely in shock with his mouth hang open at the way his own mum understood what was going on with him, his raging crush, as Jack choked on his own food and his dad looked between him and his wife with a grin that matched the one as hers. "So, he really grew enough balls to confess?"

"Dad!"

"It seems so, honey. Finally, the days he mops all around has ended!" She enthusiasticly replied him without glancing at her offended yet happy son as they both looked at him happily. After all, they have been rooting for you and him to get together for ages. You were a very kind soul, always offering your help even if you were at the other side of the planet and being Tricia's best gossip partner. She still remembered how you called her and told her your plan to surprise Ben in the middle of his shootings for his brithday and how it had to stay hidden as you prepared everything.

That was when she knew it was you for her son.

If her son hadn't done a move already, she was about to take the matters into her hands just to officially make you family.

But yet again... She was unsure if it was really her son who did it first.

"So... Who confessed first, son?"

"I bet my arse it was her!" Jack yelled out as a blush appeared on Ben's face at remembering what happened before he came back home, how your slightly chapped but still soft lips felt against his own skin,and that was enough to throw them into a frenzy as Jack cheered loudly for him while his father also joined.

But his mother, seeing the embrassment on her eldest's face, tried to shush them. But of course, as the men of the house were quite loud, it was near impossible with being the only female.

Another reason for you to join the family.

"Jack, no cursing at dinner!"

"Okay, I'm out. I don't want to listen to your teasings..." Ben slapped his knees as he got up and walked towards his room in his parents' house, his heart thundering inside his chest as his hand got clammy with anxiety.

He still couldn't believe how today turned out, how you told him you loved him for a while but wasn't sure if it was one-sided or not, that this was actually a date... Which he found absolutely ridiculous because he thought he was being very obvious, and then kissed him as if those words leaving your words weren't already enough for him to be sent into a cardiatic operation.

"Yeah, go and talk with your girlfriend~"

"Jack, stop making fun of your brother!"

But when he went up to his very much so enormous amount of gifts at the corner of his house, not caring about how his family suddenly turned silent as they watched him secretly from the corner, a note attached to the biggest set caught his eye and he softly took it between his hands and couldn't help but tear up at what was written in your handwriting.

Thank you for being exactly who you are and offering me a chance I never imagined that would be mine, something I didn't know I need my whole life... Happy belated birthday, Ben :)

"Oh my God... Is he crying-"

"MUM, BEN IS CRYING BECAUSE OF HIS GIRL!"

And he couldn't help but chuckle when he sat down and looked at the post and later story you shared, reading all the excited and shocked comments, feeling grateful for taking that old woman's suggestion seriously and rolling with it.

Because now, after years of pining, he finally had what he wanted and the voice that whispered to him was now... Silent.

Good guys indeed get the girl in the end, and he got his.

His lego piece.

Liked by freddycarter1, blakelively, benbarnes and 5,456,132 others

Y/N Y/L/N: Anything to see this wide smile...Even though it costed more than 10,000 Sterlins

View 453,623 comments

User1: WHEN IS IT GONNA BE MY TIME? BEN BARNES YOU LUCKY-

User5: GIRL WHAT DID YOU BUY?!

Y/N Y/L/N: nothing much really. The Hogwarts Building, 12 Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts Express, Gryffindor House, the Quidditch Trunk and Sirius Black POP Figure... It was the food that costed more.

User5: YOU CALL THIS "NOT SO MUCH"?! GIRL HOW RICH ARE YOU?!

User7: and do you accept any other sugar baby?

User3: guys there is a more important question to ask... Are they together finally? Because there are photos of them being all cute together and kissing sweetly and if that shit is right, I can't breathe...

User7: I say Ben Barnes finally found someone to babygirlify hım😌 as he should be

User7: Hear me out, whoever is reading this between you two, if you prove us that you are fucking together finally... I'll start to sing a song for this specific ship and upload it on Twitter

User6: THE BET IS A BIG ONE, COME ON NOW Y/N WE ONLY EXCEPT ONE SIGN

User12: OMG GUYS CHECK HER STORY RIGHT NOW WE DID IT, OUR SHIP HAS SAILED😭😭🥹 AND DAMN BEN BARNES YOU KNOW HOW HOT YOU ARE IN SWEATERS😭🫦