#it’s so exciting to see the movie industry properly pop back up

[nerdyenby]

Ok but we need to talk about how insane the past few days have been for trailers

I have a family event for ONE WEEKEND and we get Barbie Movie, Across the Spiderverse, Secret Invasion, Miraculous movie, AND Ninjago United trailers?!??? What is happening????? /pos

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

KAORU PERSONAL INTERVIEW SPECIAL HEADBANG VOL.27 TRANSLATION 2/2

The ideal figure that the guitarist who leads the band as a leader got while struggling, and the reason for his unstoppable pursuit. “Without ‘BLUE BLOOD’ I wouldn’t really be who I am now” “After all, I’ve always liked dark and hopeless stuff, that kind of things” “I’m the type of person who wants to be affected by cd jackets and lyrics” "Sometimes I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere"

Notes before reading: This is the second part of the personal interview of Kaoru from the magazine Headbang Vol.27 released on 18th August 2020.  The interview is 11 pages long and this part covers the last 5 pages.  As Toshiya and Die’s interviews, 2nd part is focused on his roots as a guitarist.

You can get the magazine at Amazon Japan or CDJapan. Read Toshiya’s interview here Read Die’s interview here

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated :) ----- Text by: Yohsuke Hayakawa (First part here) “Without “BLUE BLOOD” I wouldn’t really be who I am now” -Then, the topic of the talk changes from here.  I would like to ask you about the story behind the 20 albums that you selected regardless of era or reasons but, you chose 10 albums from Japan and 10 foreign albums.

K: Is that true? (laughs). It's a coincidence, but it was very difficult to narrow down when it came to choose again. So, I chose mainly the ones I listened to a lot before I started the band and when I started doing it. They are just albums that influenced me. -I have the impression that Japanese music was a kids who read WeROCK’s thing. K:  Hahaha. Yes (laughs). -First of all…. COLOR's mini album "FOOLS! GET LUCKY !!" (1989) is also included. I have to ask about why you picked this one. K: Well, I really love it (laughs). Even though it was "X in the east, COLOR in the west"*, I was really into it, so I went to see their live performance. I like their punkish songs and they have many fast songs. At that time, if a song wasn’t  fast, it was a “no” for me. I also liked ROSE ROSE. *(This makes reference to X Japan being from the Kanto region (East) and COLOR being from Kansai (West) as both band emerged around the same time.) -Then D'ERLANGER. DIR EN GREY participated in D'ERLANGER's tribute (announced in 2017 ‘D'ERLANGER TRIBUTE ALBUM  ~ Stairway to Heaven~ "). Was the album "LA VIE EN ROSE" (1989) a shock for you?

K: That’s right, “LA VIE EN ROSE” too but also CIPHER (G) himself. Well, I think it was at ”BURNN! JAPAN”, CIPHER appeared in a solo photo on one page in colour.

-Oh, it’s a shot in which you can see him standing with a flashy Les Paul guitar. It was before kyo (D’ERLANGER vocalist) became a member. K: That’s right.  I though “What on earth is this person?” After that, they were releasing a CD ("LA VIE EN ROSE") , so I made a I made a reservation right away.

-Also, a band you can't miss from those times is DEAD END. It never gets old because it’s respected across generations. K: I chose "Shambara" (1988), well, it's a masterpiece. Just listening to the opening song "EMBRYO BURNING" made me sick. When I first started listening to metal music, I was a bit reluctant but with DEAD END, the melody that MORRIE sung got me very quickly, I got into them without any resistance. I didn’t have the impression that DEAD END was so-called “metal”. Since I started playing in bands, I was overwhelmed by the seriousness of YOU’s guitar technique. - Next is ZI: KILL is "ROCKET" (1993). Initially, the dark positive punk style was strong but with that last album, their musicality expanded dramatically and there are even piano jazz songs. K: It’s an album that feels like something has been reached. I got into ZI:KILL since the early albums and after making their major debut, I got the impression that their albums got milder. However, when I listened to "ROCKET", it seemed like an insanely cool album. I still listen to it. -Including a horn in their arrangements was ground-breaking. K: Yes, at first I hated it! But somehow, I didn’t care about it at all. Still, TUSK (Vo) lyrics and the songs were addictive. It made a deep impression on me, that’s why I read ZI:KILL lyrics carefully as well.

-Do you care about the lyrics when it comes to Japanese artists? K: I check the booklets properly. After all, the lyrics reach my ears at the point in which the words make you feel something.

- And, needless to say, you also chose X's "BLUE BLOOD" (1989). At the Vol. 20 of this magazine, you chose it as a “metal album that changed your life”. So, as expected, if you choose an album from X japan, would be this one? K: Without this album, I wouldn't really be who I am now.

-You were influenced by everything, both the music and the guitar play….is that so? K: The guitar too, right? Well, it’s not at that level anymore.

-Ah, that’s not the level (laughs) K: I was just listening to it earnestly and thinking “amazing!”, it just something that I like, there is no particular reason (laughs).

“Western music  (I listened to) was also greatly influenced by HIDE. That’s why everything it’s related to HIDE (laughs)”

- On the other hand, Tsuyoshi Nagabuchi and Cocco are also included. K: I've always liked Nagabuchi. Like "Tonbo" (1988), there was a tv drama about that. *(”Tonbo” (Dragonfly) was also a tv drama  in which Tsuyoshi Nagabuchi played a member of a yakuza gang  who is trapped in a violent existence.)

- Oh, after that was "Shabontama" (1991). K: I also like the movie "Orgel" (1989), I was really into Nagabuchi at that time. The "Showa" (1989) album I chose this time is the album that got me hooked. The masterpiece "Gekiai" which is my favourite song was recorded around that time.

-You liked Nagabuchi’s drama series. K: Yes, they are rather dark series. I don’t know much about the brighter/cheerful ones.

-The ones like "Family Game" (1983)? K: That's right. Those are not the ones that I prefer. After all, I’ve always liked dark and hopeless stuff, that kind of things. -(Laughs) However, the radical portrayal of Nagabuchi’s drama shocked your heart as a young boy. Probably such a drama couldn’t be made in this era. K: Yes, you can’t. There isn’t even a rebroadcast of these ones.

-Certainly.  Also, I remember that Cocco was around in the scene at the same time than HIDE (g). K: Yes. When I listened to her album, it didn’t feel like I was listening to a Japanese cd. I felt like it was a western heavy band, so I got into it with that kind of image.

-I feel that foreign music, the alternative vibe is overall stronger, but do you like that? K: After all, HIDE’s influence in foreign music (I listened to) is huge. At that time, I was buying various magazines and looking for some more, I checked the names that appeared in HIDE’s articles and I’ve been listening to the ones I liked all the time.

- I have the impression that HIDE had a great influence on you listening to bands like Jane's Addiction at that time. What about Vanessa Paradis and Japan ( English new wave band)? K: That was also due to the influence of HIDE. That’s why almost everything is related to HIDE (laughs). Also, this album of hers (released in 1992, “Vanessa Paradis”) was produced by Lenny Kravitz, who liked to go to her lives.  She's still good, but I especially like her early days, I'm attracted to that voice.

“I’m the type of person who wants to be affected by cd jackets and lyrics”

- So that's it. The only work related to HIDE that you chose was with X Japan but, what about his solo works? K: Well, of course I like his solo, but in my case, I like HIDE in X Japan the most.

-Other than that, I can tell that you like strong sounds, heavy riffs and industrial. K: That’s right. As I was always seeking fierce things, I came to like strong riffs such as Pantera and Ministry.

-What about the so-called European German metal? K: Especially at that time, it wasn’t my cup of tea (laughs) - Then, some of the foreign music you chose…. "Psalm 69: The Way To Succeed And The Way To Suck Eggs" (1992) by Ministry. This album was already mentioned in this magazine before as an important metal album for you. K:  At that time, there was a foreign-related CD shop called WAVE at  Umeda Loft in Osaka. I think that I found it there and listened to it. I was like “what the hell?”, so I bought it right away. I listened to it at home again. That night I went to a acquaintance’s house and I said “Listen to this!”, and I forced him to listen (laughs). -I can tell your excitement (laughs) K: Then I listened to all the other albums. Above all, I like this one the most.  -And you also mentioned Nine Inch Nails. K: The first thing I heard from them was a single or something. At that time, I thought, "Wow, that's amazing," but when I listened to the songs on that album, I felt like I was listening to something I had never heard before. It's dark, but it sounds very aggressive. But it’s not like european music dark feeling.At that time, I wasn't sure if  they were a band or not (laughs).  -You wondered if it was a one-person band. K: That’s right. I was like “Is the same person doing everything?”, “Is he playing drums too?”. Everything was a mystery. Information was not available as soon as it does now, so I was wondering “Who is this person?”. I also wondered if the cd jacket had something to grasp, like it was a cd jacket that I didn’t really understand. Like the logo. It was all mysterious and addictive. I myself am the type who wants to be influenced/affected by cd jackets and lyrics, so I look at every corner. Everything up to the back of the wrapping. Then, when I looked at the back, I thought, "Isn't there anything attached?" (Laughs).  -(Laughs)There are many things that are totally attractive, including elaborate art books.  K: Yes. Especially for Nine Inch Nails, I went looking for some place that sell T-shirts of them.  "Sometimes I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere"  -Among these works, isn't there any in particular that has an easy-to-understand influence on the songs that you make with DIR EN GREY? K: Well, I don't know that .  - Some of the works you chose this time have a strong melody…. For example, on a 2017 tour focused in “MACABRE" (2000), you played “Taijou no ao” for the first time in a while. I mentioned in this magazine before that "If you change the arrangement of a song to your current style, you can still play it ", but is there a desire to make a song with that kind of melody now? K: I don’t have a particular desire to do it. I think that it feels like something from that time, it’s an image that doesn’t make me feel excited now.  -By the way, do you usually listen to music with melodies like that? K: I do, I do.  Rather, I’ve been listening to pop music all the time lately.  I am not listening noisy bands at all.  -Noisy ones (laughs). K: Hahaha. -However, it's a little hard to think that you are going to make songs like that. K: Yeah, it doesn't happen very often sometimes, but there are times when I can do it. A song with a very pop and bright atmosphere. So, when I tried to start to work on songs, one turns out like “this is what I have done”. But maybe then I think that it’s a little different from what I do with DIR EN GREY, so I have to mess with it, fix it or just store it. - Eh! Do you make that kind of songs? I would like to hear a song like that from you now. That’s why the melody of “Taijou no Ao” that I mentioned as an example is not only pop but also suffocating. Faintly scented lyrics. I wonder if that it’s your true self. K: That's right.The first thing that influenced me was  the New Wave*. Pet Shop Boys and so, I liked that kinds of thing. That’s why there is a bit of that “kind of atmosphere” sometimes. It's not just pop. *(New wave is a broad music genre that encompasses numerous pop-oriented styles from the late 1970s and the 1980s) -There is also a sorrowful side. K: So, if I had to pick one, Europe is better in that than America. Well, when it comes to the songs I make, I’d like to make them more interesting, but I don’t feel like doing something that is off the point/wrong.  -I have to ask you about the melody part now. K: If you have any concerns, I will answer them…  - What if there is something clear for you like, “this song has this kind of image”? K: After that, Kyo has several ways to sing so I will combine them in my own way and propose new melodies. Like “I think in this way would be cool”.   -Oh, that’s how you do it. In any case, now I'm looking forward to the day when I can listen to a new song again. Will the album be completed in 2021? K: That's right.  -By the way, Kaoru-san's hard disk has already material for the new album…. K: Well, there's something for the album……there is, but it’s still not the whole thing at all (laughs).

[bopbopstyles]

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.  

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit  @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo​ 

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: sebastian is a bit of a prick in this one

A/N: uni is now at home, nothing do, cleaned to whole room three times and watched my guilty pleasure movie rock of ages. so i decided to write some fanfic about it. hope you enjoy it x

Next Chapter

It had been the most prolonged four hours of her whole life. Between crying children to the man sat next to her, always trying his luck, Y/N had started to completely lose her sanity. Luckily for her, she now had her feet down on the ground, LA ground much to her excitement. She had finally managed to get her first interview with someone who was pretty much considered a rock god for most people with the magazine she’d grown up reading.

However, after standing outside the famous Vixen Bar for almost 3 hours in a memorable LA freezing night, she was starting to wonder if her editor in chief had just played a cruel joke on her. It wouldn’t be the first time Jason had sent her out to catch imaginary stories.

  - Excuse me. - she tapped the shoulder of one of the bouncer’s who made her jump once he turned to face her. He was tall enough to crush her with just one hand and the courage she had gathered to complain about her situation vanished. - I’m ... I’m with ...

 - Rolling Stone. - he said pointing at the lanyard she had around her neck with her carrying her Rolling Stone press pass. His face softened, which made her breath calm down significantly. - Why didn’t you say so, Miss ...

 - Wiley, Y/N Wiley. - she extender her hand to him, trying to be the most professional she could. She could do this, she was a good writer, she could write an article, she could do this. - I’m afraid it’s my first time ... here.

 - First time in LA? - he guided her onto the inside of the club, which was a drastic change from the outside. It was sweating hot inside without any sort of heating, people were clustered and bumping against each other, some even behind the bar, and the music was overwhelming. She could see the spirit bottles on the shelves moving and trembling due to how loud it was. Everywhere she looked, there were people dancing and people doing things which she would never dream of doing in public. The odd smell of smoke and MJ, along with sweat, seemed to be the only thing that her senses could pick up. This was definitely different from what she knew.

The bouncer guided her to the back where a few girls along with a man were clustered outside a wooden door with a red star that seemed to have slowly faded over time turning into a mix of wood and red colouring. The bouncer told her to wait where she was as he went to speak to the man in the middle of all the girls. He was short and chubby with a head of hair that seemed to be receding and balding on the top and a sense of style that looked taken straight of Hugh Hefner’s wardrobe.

 - Jeff Williams, mam. - he presented himself, giving her a toot aching smile and extending his hand which she shook. - Where’s Margaret?

 - Uhm Margaret is not coming. I’m Y/N Wiley, my editor sent me here to interview ...

 - Another new girl. - he rolled his eyes, turning on his back to walk to the red star door, giving it a few harsh knocks before popping his head in. The bouncer gestured her to come closer to the door, which was now fully open. She walked inside what looked like a fresher’s university room filled with empty bottles of whiskey, rum and beer along with bits of rolling tobacco sprinkled in some areas of the floor and some girls by the minibar. The man who had spoken to her before walked to the couch where a man was laying down, hat on top of his head seemingly sleeping. How was he sleeping in the middle of such a messy atmosphere she didn’t know, what she did know was that all of this was a far cry from what she had envisioned a rock star’s room to look like. After all, he certainly could afford to have someone at least vacuum the room. - Seb, Rolling Stone is here.

- You can’t just fucking leave me alone, can you? - he lazily pushed the hat off his face, locking eyes with Y/N. He had shoulder-length shaggier hair, much longer than what she had seen in old magazines, with dark bags under his electric blue eyes which seemed to want her more dead than alive. - Where’s Margaret? 

- They sent her they say her name is Wavey .. Whinney?

- Wiley. - Y/N cleared her throat, trying to gain as much courage as she possibly could. - My name’s Y/N Wiley, I was sent here by my editor to talk about your departure from Fever. 

- Well, I’ll leave you two to it. - Jeff turned to Sebastian, pointing the finger at him as to intimidate him, but it looked to have no effect. The man seemed to either not care or just fully drunk on what she guessed were the many empty bottles on the floor. - Play nice. 

He walked off the room, calling for the girls who whined as they followed the chubby man waving their goodbyes to the man standing in front of her. The door forcibly shut, making her hold onto her pad and recorder even tighter. She kept trying to tell herself she could do this, she had graduated top of her close, she was a good writer, and good writers can interview and write about everyone.

 - You’re too young to be a senior writer, who did you have to suck off to get this job? - he sat back on the couch, grabbing a half-empty bottle of what seemed to be rum. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to process if what she heard was what he had said. - Are you gonna be standing up all time?

 - I’m an intern. - she said sternly, taking place on a chair by a table full of more empty bottles. - However, Mr Stan, this interview is about you not about me.

 - 5 minutes. - he replied, eyes lingering over at his watch.

 - Sorry, what? - she opened her pad and pressed record on her recorder. He had to be joking.

 - You’re losing time, sweetheart. 

 - Right. - she looked over at the notes she had taken about him before it. Her hands were shaking and what she was once proud of calling her organised notes looked like pure rubbish to her now. - You ... you are one of the most famous figures in contemporary rock music, writing big hits which went on to sell millions of copies, why ... why did you decide to become a musician?

 - Felt like it. - he shrugged, taking another sip from his rum bottle. - Do you always dress like a child or ...

 - With such success with a band, why are you leaving now when the group is doing better than before? - she ignored his previous judgment, skipping ahead so she would have enough material to write about him when all she wanted to do is brand him as a cocky god complex owning idiot. 

 - Well, you see ... - he cleared his throat, grabbing the recorder from the table where it stood. - I think due to the constant change within the music industry, the difference in cultural trends and when you think of blah blah blah and blah blah blah ... Four minutes.

He broke into laughter, staring at her as if expecting her to laugh right back or rush out of the door, but she stood there. She stood there, holding onto her pass as if she wanted to rip it and strangle him with it.

 - You know, sweetheart, you are not good at this writing thing. 

 - You know, sweetheart ... - she mocked his tone. - Some people have said that you’ve become quite challenging to work with. That you’re consistently late, you’re reclusive, sometimes even nonsensical. 

 - And who are those people who are speaking about and what do they know about me?

 - Well, I’m talking about your band.

 - Let me tell you something, Miss Wiley. I know me better than anybody else. Better than my group, better than the media and much better than those stupid notes you have with you. I know me because I am me. Three minutes. 

- Do you think that because you’re shut off so many people in your life and avoided changing your behaviour that your only choice is to go solo? - she switched into attack mode which seemed to surprise the man standing next to her who placed the bottle right down with enough force to break it.

 - Is your daddy rich, is this why they gave you the job?

 - Right ... - she grounded herself once more, not expecting her very first job to be this harsh but understanding why no one else had tried to steal her place to interview Sebastian Stan. - You were born in Romania raised by a single mother. Dropped out of high school at 17. When you were 19 you met your ...

 - Time. - he looked at the clock, getting up from his seat. 

 - When you met your bandmates in this very club ...

 - I said time. - he stopped the recorder. He gestured the men who were guarding the door to open it. - You can go now and next time don’t dress like a school teacher. 

 - Final question. - Y/N got up following him as he walked to the bar to grab another bottle of the millions he had. He turned to face her, a red bottle in hand along with a look of pure carelessness. - What happens when you realise that you have become a joke for new coming artists?

 - You have no idea what’s it like to be me, Miss Wiley. - he snapped the cap of the bottle, pouring himself a shot and downing it in record time. She had to give it to him, it was a rather exciting time. 

 - Well then here’s your chance. What’s it like to be THE Sebastian Stan?

 - I don’t know honey, maybe you should check your notes or call someone who can do this job properly. 

At this moment the chubby man from before made a bee-line towards the two of them which were ready to start a brawl, except one of them was way too professional to do something.

 - Right, I hope you got everything you wanted you can ... - the man was interrupted by Y/N stepping forward, nerves straight off the window.

 - You are not misunderstood at all.

 - Why don’t you tell me what I am then? - he raised his brow at her, a smug smile on his face.

 - You’re a man-child stuck in a rut who refuses to acknowledge the fact that he lost his career due to careless behaviour.

 - I love it when you talk dirty.

 - You know Sebastian, you used to be great. All the musicians I know wanted to be you, but whatever made you great is far far gone. 

 - That’s right, give it to me rough. - he chuckled at her, not caring about anything of what she was saying.

 - Now you are just another rocker asleep at the wheel, singing the same songs you wrote years ago. And as long as you have this team that keeps supplying you with alcohol and girls, they’re gonna keep you asleep, and you’ll eventually drive off a cliff and be removed from music history.

 - Line crossed. - the chubby man grabbed her arm. - Time to go, Miss Wiley.

 - Don’t touch me. - she shook her arm away from him. - You used to write great songs, you used to be great ... What happened?

 - You know what, I’m calling your editor. - Jeff grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialling his number. - Jason, great guy, we’re friends. I’ll fix this for you, Sebastian. 

 - Get out. - he spoke in an almost whisper-like tone, eyes glued to hers virtually as if he didn’t dare to blink. 

 - My words exactly, mate. This interview is over. - Jeff put his hand over the phone, gesturing at one of the guards to come and grab her.

 - No, no, no. Not her. - he pointed at Jeff. - You. All of you.

 - Copy that. Everybody out. - he gave her an almost death threatening look as even the guards left the room, leaving the two of them completely alone. Sebastian scanned through his drink cabinet, grabbing a bottle and pouring two shots, sending one her way.

 - I don’t drink, thank you. - she pushed it right back to him, hearing him mutter ‘have it your way’ before downing both of them. - Are you gonna answer any of my questions or ... 

 - Off the record, you’d make an excellent groupie. - he said and like that the straw finally broke her back and she turned on her heels and stormed off the room. 

 - Wait ... Wiley ... - he followed her until the door. - WILEY! Come back tomorrow.

 - I’d rather not. - she turned on her heel, knowing precisely what to write once she got back to the hotel.

 - Promise it’ll be worth your while and maybe you’ll impress your editor. 

 - You’re a drunk, why should I trust you?

 - Because you’re an intern who wants to be a senior writer.

[redantsunderneath]

VAL and BILLIE EILISH: THE WORLD'S A LITTLE BLURRY

I shouldn’t be allowed to watch documentaries. All that any documentary seems to be about (at this point, to me) is the relationship between itself and the truth. I don’t know if it’s 2000's reality TV or that one time I watched Capturing the Friedman’s and Waco: The Rules of Engagement back to back that broke me, but what interests me isn’t the subject matter but standpoint epistemology of the thing. These two docs are very different, diametrically opposed in almost every way, but both are defined by the ways in which the text struggles against reality. Val is about an old man who used cameras (himself) to capture his entire life as he pretended to be someone else on film. He is infirm, occluding his laryngotomy tube to talk, and his handlers try to manage his naps around meet and greets where he sells the shell of the person he once was for the fans who still care. It’s forbears are archeological dead celebrity docs that try to find the elusive star at the center (Robin Williams, Heath Ledger, Amy Winehouse) and those about reclaiming memory (Alzheimer Project, Waltz with Bashir) but it’s just… he’s the cameraman and he’s still shuffling around. Closest comparison (minus the age part) is probably Kid 90, which was being cut at the same time. This doesn’t get at how weird this is, though. He used to make movies with his brother, who drowned during a seizure and haunts the movie (he would put up his brother’s drawings in shots on film sets, the talks about or around the event constantly). He often hands off the camera to people so he can be seen in his world with complex instructions (when I walk off, focus in on that speaker so when I go onstage you will hear my first line) and when the camera hits a mirror he lingers (as in the video of his newborn baby). He seems to always be performing, an aspect of life we are all familiar with by now but less common when this footage was taken. His wife is uncomfortable on camera, usually mugging or hiding, and you get the feeling the distancing from his life is intentional as he focuses on internal transformation away from ego resolution, but he still needs to be seen, his sense of self tied up in an object permanence issue. The movie is structured as someone trying to sort through memories of their life and come to terms with them, although the memories in this case is a small warehouse full of video tapes and film canisters. In his current life he can only communicate with difficulty and tries to convey reaction with meaningful-but-of-what glances and gestures. Effacement by time and looming death drench the whole enterprise - when his brother dies he says his father “lost his charisma” (just contemplate that). His current simulacra of celebrity makes him feel like a ghost, signing “you can be my wingman anytime” multiple times for people who this means something to. So he brings up the footage and tries to reconstruct his life (his credit as cinematographer is both funny, touching, and chilling). This thing is full of interesting moments. He is doing a line reading of Hamlet at Juilliard and Peter Kass stops him to ask where the performance is coming from. He responds that he has never considered killing himself which causes Kass to explode, insisting that no-one in the history of the world has not had that thought. This seems to rob us and him of a potentially revelatory moment as Kilmer seems different, spiritual in an unusual way… maybe the reason why he never thought of that was more interesting than that point. His entreaty to Marlon Brando to tell him what his earliest childhood memory is is responded to by Brando asking for him to rock his hammock with repetition of the question only yielding feedback on the rocking until neonatal-fat Brando’s satisfaction at being rocked seems like an answer. The argument with John Frankenheimer who does not want to be filmed is something else. The major things going on are here are being haunted vs feeling like a ghost and an arrested Lacanian mirror phase that complicates his intersubjective context, with the karmic

self-assessment of who he is trying to chill in the middle. The filmmaking knows this and orients itself as a process of evaluating memory where what is true seems elusive, heavily edited, and hall-of-mirrors-like. The question of what is performance is a subconscious struggle. Conspicuous in their absence are his own feelings on his decline beyond the fact that he “doesn’t believe in death,” real insight into his marriage (and breakup, other than an allusion to his method acting Jim Morrison being a problem) and relationship with his kids (who are around all the time, but seem like Sixth Sense characters), and the fact that he’s a legendary asshole on set. This last is, like, the one thing everyone knows about him. But you can sort of sense this stuff secondarily, right off the edge of the screen and in him relentlessly projecting onto his parents. The real crux is the study of a man who never feels seen, but tries to become so by disappearing into someone else, who needs recording devices so that he can capture himself properly, all controlled performance; someone unaware of his own loneliness brought about by not being very good at making himself available because his “self” is externally resolved and constant inner transformation masks the unformed nature of his ego at rest. The film accomplishes this by allowing him to reveal what is absent by his preoccupations and bearing witness to his deflection mechanisms, so that he is no closer to knowing himself but, by being manipulated in a way we can see the frame of, we kind of get a glimpse. Good experience, wish there was more Christian Scientist material (that seems like an angle of understanding the film wasn’t interested in). Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry is about a young girl who is followed by cameras capturing her entire life as she pretends to be herself on stage. She has a Simone Biles flavored psycho-physical compromise that everyone tries to “handle” while she sells herself as the person she isn’t to fans who care, at least right now. This is in the tradition of Truth or Dare mimics that seem de rigueur for female pop stars. Closest comparison is Miss Americana. This movie feels made by spreadsheet to contain scenes to develop the official narrative of an in-her-brother’s-room, in her suburban parent’s house, sui generis composite genius who is on the edge of mental unfitness trying to be as normal as she can in this crazy merry go round called fame. The obviousness of the put on is diffused by the relative lameness of the pieces. In some respects this is the typical documentary “look for the cracks for insight” play, but it is consciously using that as a tool too and doing it badly - the manufactured insight escape moments largely ring false. This comes off as a Zoom background era counterfeit, a series of YouTube clips where Markeplier or whoever lets the mask slip a little in the most forced bit of unbiddenness possible. There is a boyfriend who feels like a story mandated version of “from Canada.” But the interesting thing is the way it recapitulates the way modern pop is put together, not by writing, not by spontaneous “feel your way,” but by putting bits of ideas together and trying to emulate form. There are a lot of moments in the film that feel like they could have been real, but the non-actors were asked to do another take and can’t quite nail it. It actually has such a boner for produced casual that it is pretty much allergic to authenticity, which is quite a thing for a documentary. The major things going on are here are grappling with whether she brings anything musically to the table (the brother seems like the musical force, she’s afraid her voice is bad, they make a point to show her idea notebooks as work product), her wish to only perform if she can give the fans her best show (possibly her version of just wanting to call in sick, understandable) is at odds with her being the center of a machine that has to move, her as a product of a not entirely with it older parents who gave their kids an open creative runway

and now are instrumental in managing her as a resource that is tricky to work with, the work being her and her brother dicking around and making magic happen, and an attempt to paint her as a Beleiber who now is on the the other side of the fan dichotomy. Development of her style, arguably her #1 thing, is sort of left as her telling a video director “I drew this bleeding eye woman, can we do something like this?” and sort of suggesting through letting her point around that she is a de facto co director. At times, it feels like a try at icon forging that someone wanted to fail, but it is probably just the high school conception-to-production level tat ultimately comes off as a larger indictment of making a movie like you make modern pop music - overdetermined manipulation of flimsy elements without a satisfying ethos, that looks too be an insubstantial assemblage of spliced pieces that live of die by their stickiness. But it begins to feel, more and more, that it’s about how non-exciting pop stars can be as people and that a narrative that people respond to can kind of die if you show that’s it’s just work and somewhat normal people trying to be a piece of an illusion. It’s this partitioning away of the hyperreality and an attempt to show the official story acted by the sausage makers trying to pretend the banality is just crazy man. Where Val is a simulation of an habitual performer considering who they actually are selectively sorting their life and failing to confront the loneliness of age and death (more elusive to them than us), this is obvious hoax unintentionally (?) revealing the fabricated nature of the image-music industry by way of demonstrating the strangely normie creatives, green-yellow ombre or no, can’t be arsed to summon a proper freakout (the whining seems authentic, though). Music videos may lie to you, but the official story is strangely correct - kids living in mom’s house cobble together catchy stuff and pull off pop stardom due to social media age production savvy and a little zeitgeisty imagery, it’s just everyone is well adjusted if stressed and someone’s only donning the costume of the online archetype of a specific kind of girl. Val uses the constructed nature of these narratives as a tool wielded in the open to suggest the inner working of a mind failing to be honest with itself while the other is interesting in its transparency and failure to convince us of the loosely conceived fiction, leaving reality apparent as bong resin. Baudrillard would have liked this one more, probably.

[cuddlepilefics]

2.   Candles

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Youngjae

Caregiver: GOT6

 Jinyoung’s POV.:

With the start of December, we had decided to get into the Christmas spirit by decorating the dorm. Honestly, we didn’t really have much Christmas decoration to begin with, since most of us usually went home to our respective families to celebrate. Besides, decorating plus having everything twinkle was a bit cheesy anyways and we usually just didn’t have the time. This year however we had decided to spend some quality time together as a group, decorating, listening to Christmas music and singing along. Bambam, Yugyeom and I had already started hanging up all the fairylights we could find around the dorm, the maknae’s height coming in handy. Mark and Jaebeom had gone out to buy some candles and whatever else they’d find. Jackson and Youngjae had found two boxes containing old decorations at the back of a closet and were currently detangling garlands and ornaments. I had no idea where that stuff had come from but most likely it was just us collecting it bit by bit over the years.

With our Christmas playlist playing in the background, we finished hanging up the fairylights and Bambam and Yugyeom joined Jackson and Youngjae sitting on the ground and working the knots out of a garland, while I went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate for everyone since Jaebeom had texted me that they were already on their way home. I could hear my members bickering in the living room with Jackson whining frustratedly because he couldn’t remove a knot. Smiling to myself, I stirred the heating milk before slowly adding some chopped chocolate. I was very glad to have this day off and to spend it with the crackheads that were my members. When I shortly popped my head into the living room to check on them, Youngjae was belting out the chorus of ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ while dancing lewdly with Yugyeom. I couldn’t help but laugh at their silliness but quickly hid back in the kitchen to avoid them pulling me into their mess, besides the milk had almost boiled and I had to remove it from the stove.

Just when the dancing couple struck their ending pose, the door opened and our two oldest members stepped in carrying large shopping bags. They had clearly gotten carried away, since they had only planned to buy some candles but had returned with much more. I yelled a greeting from my spot in the kitchen while pouring the hot chocolate into cups before calling the others to take a break. When everyone had collected their cup from the kitchen, we sat around the dining table discussing the rest of the day. We wanted to have all the decorations up by lunchtime so we could watch some movies after lunch. Our maknae-line plus Jackson were the most excited, enjoying themselves like little children. Christmastime had barely begun but we were all in a joyous mood already, fighting over which seasonal movie was the best. While Youngjae and Bambam strongly defended the 2000version of ‘The Grinch’, Mark stood his ground praising ‘Home alone’. When we had emptied our cups, Jaebeom washed them before helping me with the kimchi stew I was cooking for lunch. Having finally detangled the remaining decoration, Mark and Jackson hung them up, stretching from one side of the living room to the other. Youngjae had gathered his favorite ornaments and considering the lack of a Christmas tree, was taping them to cabinets and shelves, including a huge glittery star which now adorned our fridge. It really warmed my heart to see my entire group in such high spirits, forgetting about the pressure we would never get rid of in the industry we worked in.

Bambam had unpacked the shopping bags and was setting up a few candles on the coffee table while Yugyeom put the stock of remaining candles away. “Guys, this one smells like cinnamon!”, he exclaimed excitedly, immediately lighting said candle. “I knew they’d like it”, Jaebeom chuckled next to me and I smiled at him. I walked into the living room, taking in the sight of all the decorations hung up. Frankly, it just looked amazing, yeah a bit cheesy maybe but hey, that’s okay sometimes.

 Jackson’s POV.:

We had just finished decorating the living room when Jinyoung called us to have lunch. I was really proud of how the dorm looked now. It had never bothered me that we didn’t decorate, only today did I realize what we were missing out on. The mood hadn’t been that light in quite some time and seeing my members so joyous really warmed my heart. The candle Bambam had light was filling the room with a subtle cinnamon scent, making me feel nostalgic. On our way to the dining table, I passed Yugyeom, ruffling the maknae’s hair and earning loud complaints from him for doing so. Youngjae cheered loudly when he realized that Jinyoung had prepared kimchi stew, a dish that fit the season perfectly. We enjoyed our meal, praising Jinyoung for his skills in the kitchen. When we were done we cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen together. Though in this household that never works out without trouble and Jaebeom soon threw the soapy sponge at a hysterically laughing Youngjae. These dorks…

With all our fooling around, the cleaning took some time but when it was done, we collected some blankets and got comfy in front of the TV. Since there was no way we would agree on one movie to watch, we were preparing to have a movie marathon till late into the night. We were only fifteen minutes into the first movie when Youngjae on the other side of the couch sneezed loudly. Personally, I didn’t think much of it, my donsaeng has a quite sensitive nose and is sneezing pretty often. Ten minutes later, Jaebeom paused the movie, by now Youngjae was sneezing frequently and nobody could really focus on the screen in front of us. “Are you ok?”, Jinyoung frowned at the other. “Sorry, I-I dod’t k-kdow hwAAcho *sniff* w-what got idto me *sniff*”, the younger was barely able to speak properly with how much his breath was hitching. I was growing concerned, he looked sick with his nostrils bright red and his eyes watering irritatedly. He looked perfectly fine earlier and the only illness I could think of that comes on that fast is the flu. I got up and went to the other side of the couch pressing my head to Youngjae’s forehead. To my surprise, his temperature felt perfectly normal. “H-hyug, I’b f-fide”, he pushed my hand off, sniffling wetly. “You’re not fine but at least you don’t have a fever”, I commented, looking at Jaebeom since I was at a loss because my suspicion was wrong. hhuaACHOOOO!!! hAKsshhu! *sniff* “Bless you”, Bambam yelled from the bathroom, returning soon after with a box of tissues. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”, He asked carefully, knowing Youngjae always hated to admit he was sick. “Dod’t feel sick”, came the congested reply before Youngjae turned away to muffle two more sneezes into a handful tissues, trying to blow his nose afterwards but failing as it just set him off again. “Is it allergies?”, Jinyoung questioned, the gears turning in his head, and earning a short nod. “Yugyeom blow out the candle!”, Jinyoung ordered, being the first to grasp the situation. The maknae complied, not questioning it once.

While JJParents dragged the still sniffling vocalist to the bathroom, I opened all the windows and replaced the candle with an unscented one. Probably I should have guessed it was the artificial fragrance setting him off. Shortly after JJP returned to the living room, we heard the shower running. “The fragrance is probably still stuck in our clothes, so everyone go get changed please”, Jaebeom announced, collecting the blankets to wash them too. On the way to our room, Mark and I closed the windows again and to make the most of the situation, we called an ugly-sweater-contest. When everyone gathered in the living room again, including Youngjae, his hair damp, eyes and nose a decent shade of pink, the group broke into fits of giggles, seeing that we were truly some fashion disasters. Since all the blankets were in the wash, we just dragged our duvets into the living room and continued our movie marathon. Having taken an antihistamine, Youngjae sneezed less frequently but didn’t even make it through the first movie before nodding off. It’s not like we’d mind re-watching them with him though….

[hoodedsuns]

Aftertaste of Cherry | Ten

Genre: Street Racer!AU, Fluff & a hint of Angst

Summary: Ten wasn’t one to go on late night adventures. He wasn’t really a risk taker and would much rather prefer being curled up in bed watching a movie. And yet he still somehow manages to end up at a very illegal street race, where he met you.   

Word Count: 2.1K

“Tell me again why you dragged me all the way here in the middle of the night?” Ten couldn’t help but huff out as he glared grumpily at a way too cheery Johnny, eyebrows raised as he silently questioned whether or not his precious free time was worth being sacrificed for whatever spontaneous adventure his roomate had once again decided to drag him into. Ten had been lounging on the couch in his faded black hoodie, mindlessly scrolling through instagram while waiting for his cup noodle to finish cooking so that he could officially start his netflix binge, when Johnny suddenly busted in through the front door with a smile that Ten had learned to associate with less than pleasant ideas.   

“Don’t be such a downer, you need some excitement in your life once in awhile!” Ten sneered at the implications behind Johnny’s words, hands wrapping themselves around Johnny’s neck as he faked strangling him, trying hard to suppress his amused grin when the older boy dramatically chocked before “passing out” by crumbling to the floor. Admittedly, he does spend most of his time in the dance room, but it wasn’t as though he was purposely cooping himself up in there. He just couldn’t help but accidently lose track of time and all sense of reality. “No but seriously, what are we here for?” The once miniscule bubble of anxiety that resided in Ten’s heart couldn’t help but expand and burst as the words “street racing” left Johnny’s mischievously quirked lips. 

Ten’s eyes darted around his surroundings, only now noticing the crowds of rather sketchy looking people who were dressed in all black, each of them easily blending into the darkness of the barely lit industrial road, the only real indicator of a human’s presence being the bitter smoke that would occasionally escape someone’s parted lips. He unconsciously wrinkled his nose in disdain at the thought of breathing in all that second-hand smoke that filled the air before he turned back to Johnny, hands gesturing around panickedly. “Isn’t this illegal?” It was a rhetorical question that Ten already knew the answer to but he still couldn’t help but ask, holding onto the futile hope that maybe whoever was in-charge of this race really did have the permission to legally use this scrappy looking place that they were currently standing in. In the event that the cops choose to visit on this very night, Ten knew that there was no way that he would be swift enough to escape the jaws of the law considering that this was their first time here which meant that they weren’t really familiar with this place, and Ten really wasn’t keen on having to explain to his parents why he was here in the dead of the night instead of being back in his dorm studying. Granted, he wouldn’t be studying right now even if he was back in bed but he’s confident they’d agree that it was a significantly better option than whatever was going on here.

“Don’t worry too much about it, what are the odds that the police will come,” Johnny attempted giving Ten a comforting smile but judging from how the latter was fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie anxiously, it was safe to say that he didn’t feel very comforted. “Look, I’m only here because my friend knows one of the racers and I just couldn’t turn down his invitation so since we’re already here just try to relax and have some fun tonight alright?”

Questions about this mysterious friend and his potentially dangerous racer friend immediately replaced Ten’s thoughts of murdering Johnny for being so nonchalant about this whole situation but before he could get any of them out, the sudden cheers and whistles of the people around him had caused him to lose his train of thought as he instinctively turned his head to where everyone else was facing. And that’s when he saw you in all your skin tight leather glory, a wild sort of beauty that he hadn’t ever experienced before. You stepped out of an expensive looking midnight blue car along with a purple haired male, rolling the stick of a pink coloured lollipop between your fingers before popping it into your mouth. You both sized up the crowd for a moment before the male’s eyes locked onto the tall giant that he was looking for, completely destroying any assumptions that Ten had about his personality as he bounded over to Johnny like an excited puppy with you trailing not far behind.

“You really came!” Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle as Yuta grinned at him, arms curling around Johnny’s figure in a hug as he gave him a firm pat on his back. “Oh, who is this next to you?” Ten’s brain had registered the fact that Yuta was referring to him and although he was already mentally reciting his introduction, the physical him didn’t respond, nor did he make any attempts to face him. He was staring at you unabashedly, eyes unable to leave your figure. It was as though you had caught him in a trance.

“This is Ten, hope you don’t mind that I brought him along, he really needed a change of scenery.” Ten finally snapped out of his stupor when Johnny placed a hand on his shoulder while simultaneously pushing him closer to Yuta. Ten stuck his hands out to initiate a handshake but to his surprise, Yuta stuck his fist out instead in order to fistbump him. Everything happened so quickly yet also in slow motion. With Ten still being slightly out of it, he didn’t have enough time to process the situation which led to him just awkwardly patting Yuta’s fist, causing you to burst out laughing in amusement. 

“Ah I haven’t introduced her yet, she’s one of the racers,” you took a step closer to the group wiggling your fingers in a cheeky wave. “You can just call her The Lion since that’s what everyone here-” with a rather loud slap to his back, you smiled in satisfaction as Yuta finally got the hint to stop talking about your embarrassing title in front of his really attractive friends before you do something worse. “Ignore that last part, its just some dumb nickname that the regulars here came up with and they refuse to stop calling me that no matter how many times I’ve told them not to,” you groaned while removing your lollipop from your mouth with a small pop. 

Despite that nickname sounding like something that would circulate around an elementary school full of toddlers instead of an illegal street race full of adults, Ten couldn’t help but agree with how well that nickname fitted you as you had an undeniably feral aura about you. Maybe it was the confident way you carried yourself, or the way your unruly hair framed your face, or maybe it was the way you observed everyone with the sharp eyes of a carnivore. When you had first made eye contact with him after stepping out of your car, he couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine as he felt your eyes rake up and down his body with a lazy smirk. He felt like a vulnerable prey cowering under the gaze of an unpredictable predator.  

“You don’t look too happy to be here, what’s up?” You shifted yourself to stand next to Ten, the both of you having been abandoned by your friends right after your introductions as the pair immediately ran off to who knows where, lead by a hyper Yuta who probably just couldn’t wait to show Johnny some secret hideout he found. “Not much, just a little mad that Johnny kidnapped me here only to leave me for his friend without hesitation.” Chuckling at his usage of words, you hummed in thought to yourself as you silently looked him over properly. He was really cute.

“What did your friend mean by you needing a change of scenery, you having an argument with your girlfriend or something?” Ten shook his head with a small smile, arms rubbing away the goosebumps that had risen on his skin from a particularly chilly breeze and from the way your piercing eyes seemed to be analysing his every move. “The only thing I’m in a committed relationship with is dance.” Ten could’ve sworn that he saw your smirk grow into a smile at his reply but chalked it up to his habit of overthinking things. “Maybe I would have a girlfriend if I wasn’t so boring.” Widening his eyes at his own stupidity, Ten chuckled uneasily, not having meant to let his self deprecating thoughts be exposed to a stranger he had just met.

Sure, people complimented him on his dancing all the time, some even going as far as to call him a genius at it. But outside of dance, Ten wasn’t exactly the most interesting person. He didn’t go to parties, didn’t flirt with anyone, didn’t get up to any mildly illegal antics (until now) that young adults should be experiencing before they are fully shackled down by society. If you had asked the rather tiny group of people who knew of his existence for one word to describe him, chances were that most of the answers would be words like ‘dull, average, normal’, or any other synonyms for the word ‘uninteresting’ that they could think of.

“I think it’s pretty cool that you do what you want to do, even if it might be considered boring in someone else’s eyes.” Now that was a first. People usually told him that he needed to change into someone more exciting and that he needed to get out more. “You live your life for yourself so I don’t see any problems with doing what you enjoy doing. Afterall, if you enjoyed your time, it means that it was time well spent.”  

“Thank you…that means more to me than you can imagine.” You nodded your head at him with a genuine smile plastered on your lips and for a second, Ten swore that you looked like an angel. Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air to have someone tell him that being boring was okay, that he didn’t need to feel guilty for it.

“Hey what flavour is your lollipop?” You crunched on the hard candy with your teeth, breaking it off the white plastic stick that it was once stuck on, rolling the sweet shards around your mouth with your tongue.

“Why don’t you taste it for yourself.” Was the last thing that Ten’s brain processed before he felt your lips moving against his, slowly prying his lips open with your tongue and pushing bits of the broken lollipop into his mouth, the sugary taste of artificial cherry invading his sense of taste. Although his thoughts were having a hard time catching up to what was happening, his body had no problems with moving as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He felt his heart speed up as the familiar feeling of butterflies that always went wild in his stomach before a performance chose to visit him once again but instead of feeling like vomiting out whatever he had for the day, it was an empowering sort of feeling, it felt like he was on the top of the world.

“The race is starting soon, stop sucking on your boy’s face and get your ass over here!” You groaned in disappointment as you pulled away from Ten, turning around to face the brazen-faced announcer who was smirking knowingly at the two of you. 

Ten felt his heart slowly sink as you started heading towards your car without a single goodbye or mention of your previous actions. Not to mention that he was starting to feel really self conscious under the scrutinizing gaze of the people around him who were curious as to who you had been with. Mentally cursing himself for getting his hopes up and for thinking that someone like you would be interested in someone like him, Ten looked around the parking lot for Johnny, desperately wanting to go home so that he could wallow in his disappointment in the privacy of his dorm room. That was until, you shouted to him from across the parking lot. 

“Hey! If I win this race it means you owe me a date alright?” Ten already knew that if Johnny was watching the exchange from some hidden spot, he was going to tease him for how quickly he transitioned from looking like a kicked puppy to a child in a candy store, but Ten couldn’t stop himself from nodding enthusiastically at you. He was confident that you were going to win, and you did, and he was once again left with the sweet aftertaste of cherry.  

[h-styles-babes]

hiiii can you do a blurb based on the dodgeball episode where y/n on michelle’s team and harry and y/n hit it off pretty well

“Is it weird that they have five players and we have six?” Y/N asked as she sat in her chair, the Late Late Show’s hair stylist teasing the crown of her hair in order to put it into a bouncy pony tail for the sketch.

“I asked James if he wanted to add someone else to his team, and he said it was fine,” Michelle shrugged.

Y/N still couldn’t believe that this was where she was. When she’d begun her acting career alongside the amazing Mila Kunis when she was but a spry thirteen year old, she never anticipated everything blowing up like this. Working alongside someone she’d seen in her favorite show growing up was one thing, but getting to do what she loved with people that she admired was something completely beyond what she could have ever imagined. And now she was sitting alongside former First Lady Michelle Obama, about to play dodgeball with her now-good friend and sort of mentor, Mila, as well as the hilarious Melissa McCarthy, Kate Hudson, and Allison Janney. Not to mention she was facing off against James, Benedict Cumberbatch, John Bradley, Reggie Watts, and none other than Harry Styles.

Where was Y/N to start with Harry Styles? He was only a year older than her, and she’d technically popped up in the mainstream media before he had, but he was undoubtedly the bigger star. Not to mention Y/N had been a pretty big One Direction fan when they’d been popular when she was in high school. She’d of course followed his solo career so far, and she was honestly really surprised that their paths hadn’t crossed before then. Not that she had many connections to the music industry, but she’d definitely attended a lot of the same award shows and events that he had over the years. She had friends that knew him a little more personally, and while she was a bit jealous, she never wanted to force a meeting between them. She was a fan, but she didn’t want to come across as obsessed or demanding of his attention.

So she sat in her little corner of the room, allowing the makeup artists and hair dressers do their thing, checking emails on her phone and having a light chat with the women on her team, sneaking inconspicuous glances at Harry across the room. He was effortlessly attractive and put together, joking and messing around with his own teammates. She’d always heard stories both in the industry and from fans about the magnetism that Harry naturally exuded, and she could finally attest to it first hand. Even though they were clear across the room from each other, she could feel his eccentricity and charisma. It was a little annoying in that way that she was mad that she didn’t get to experience that sort of thing on the regular.

James came up to her as the hair dresser deemed her finished.

“Have you met everyone here, Y/N?” he asked. She hadn’t been able to make it to the scripted rehearsal the day before due to some previous obligations, so she hadn’t been there to be introduced properly to everyone. She obviously knew everyone on her own team already, and she’d met John at premieres, Reggie on the show, and Benedict from a World War II movie they’d done together a few years before. The only one she didn’t know was the one that was most friendly with James Corden, and it was a tad intimidating.

“Everyone except Harry Styles,” she confirmed, trying not to give away that she was really anxious to meet him.

“Well, we start filming in twenty, so let’s get that sorted,” James decided, already turning to look around for his friend. When he spotted him, he gave a low whistle, immediately catching Harry’s attention. James beckoned him over with a wave, and Harry politely departed his previous conversation.

He gave a slight jog up to where James stood with Y/N, who popped out of her seat so she wouldn’t be sitting when she introduced herself to him. Seemed a bit rude, honestly. And she was already having to pretend not to have a little bit of a freak out internally, so she figured giving herself the distraction of having to stay standing would be a good idea.

“Hey, don’t think we’ve met before,” Harry greeted her, reaching his hand out.

Y/N accepted it, a little overwhelmed by the warmth of his skin and the way his hand nearly completely engulfed her own.

“No, I don’t think we have. I’m Y/N.” She was honestly surprised she was able to get the words out so easily and sound like an actual functioning human adult.

“Harry,” he reciprocated, flashing her one of those lopsided smiles she’d seen a lot on the red carpet and in magazines. It was a little disarming, in all honesty, now that she was close to it and all it’s cheeky glory.

“I know it’s like two years late, but I really love your album.” Y/N couldn’t help but gush just a little bit. She was a fan and there was no reason to hide it completely. She’d just have to tamp it down a little bit.

The smile on his face widened into a full blown grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Thanks! Thank you so much. That means a lot.”

“Get friendly. We’re gonna start pelting each other with rubber balls in twenty minutes,” James told them, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he passed by to go talk to someone else.

“Yeh know, I really loved that movie you just did with Chris Evans,” Harry told her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the makeup table their artist had set up. “Actually, I think I’ve loved every movie yeh’ve ever done. I’m kinda actually a really big fan. Mates make fun of me for ownin’ all your movies and watchin’ all your interviews.”

Y/N felt herself flushing, but she was pleasantly surprised to see that a bit of red was tinging the tips of his ears as he bent his head, that cute little smile on his face, looking a little embarrassed. She couldn’t hold back the excited little giggle that escaped her mouth at his adorable behavior.

“That’s really sweet, Harry. And tell your friends to get off your back. My friends used to make fun of me for liking One Direction. Look who’s laughing now.”

Harry laughed. He looked back up at her, and she noticed him biting down on the tip of his tongue with his back teeth. When she was a teenager, and Harry was a teenager, that look used to drive her crazy. Now that they were both adults, the look was one hundred times worse, and Y/N had to physically swallow to control her reaction. Lord help her.

Y/N and Harry chatted about mundane industry things for a few minutes, waiting out the time until they were due to start filming. Y/N found that Harry was just as charming and adorable as he’d always come across in interviews and videos. He was a bit more willing to answer her questions than he was in answering interview questions. And he was really funny in that dorky way that would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so willing to embarrass himself.

James finally called everyone to order, and the next thirty minutes could only be described as absolute annihilation. The UK tried to make their comeback in the second round, America crushed them in the third. While Y/N was celebrating with her teammates and playfully making fun of the Brits for their loss, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. She turned to look down at the hand and noticed the rings adorning the long fingers of the hand. Trailing up the arms, she took stock of all the tattoos and knew immediately who it was.

“Congrats on the win,” Harry told her, a broad smirk stretching across his face.

Y/N bowed her head mock seriously. “Thank you, sir. You were a noble opponent. Honestly, you and Cumberbatch carried the team. Don’t tell James that.”

Harry placed a hand over his heart. “Thank you, that means a lot. And I won’t tell, promise.”

Y/N smiled at him but she wasn’t really sure what else she was supposed to say to him. They were on friendly terms now, but she was still a little nervous around him.

Harry apparently sensed her unease or was a bit uneasy himself, so he spoke after a few seconds of silence had passed between them. Although she was more surprised by what he said than she was uncomfortable by the silence.

“Do you wanna go out sometime? Grab coffee or have lunch or something?”

Y/N’s mouth popped open just a little bit in shock. Was Harry Styles actually asking her out? Asking to spend time with her outside of work?

“Uh…y-yeah, that sounds great,” she agreed quicker than she thought she was capable of at that moment. It was good to know she was able to actually still function under high stress situations.

“Great,” Harry responded, his face brightening. “Should I get your email or something? So we can set a time. Are you in London long?”

“I just landed a show here, so I’ll be in London for the foreseeable future,” she said, already feeling the hope of this lasting longer than one meeting flourishing in her stomach. “But is there something wrong with exchanging phone numbers?” She can’t say she’d ever swapped emails with people as opposed to cell numbers. Emails were for work appointments and contract drafts. Not casual conversations and dates.

Harry awkwardly chuckled and wiped at his nose with the broad part of his first finger. “I uh—I didn’t wanna be presumptuous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and put her hand out. “Give me your phone, Styles.”

He smirked at her. “Bossy, are yeh?”

“I prefer authoritative and decisive.”

His smirk softened into a smile. “I like that.”

[tcm]

Interview with Mark A. Vieira, author of Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934)

Mark A. Vieira is an acclaimed film historian, writer and photographer. His most recent book, Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934): When Sin Ruled the Movies is now available from TCM and Running Press.

Raquel Stecher: Twenty years ago you wrote Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood for Harry N. Abrams. Why did you decide to revisit the pre-Code era with your new TCM-Running Press book Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: That’s a good question, Raquel. There were three reasons. First, Sin in Soft Focus had gone out of print, and copies were fetching high prices on eBay and AbeBooks. Second, the book was being used in classes at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. Third, Jeff Mantor of Larry Edmunds Cinema Book Shop told me that his customers were asking if I could do a follow-up to the 1999 book, which had gotten a good New York Times review and gone into a second printing. So I wrote a book proposal, citing all the discoveries I’d made since the first book. This is what happens when you write a book; information keeps coming for years after you publish it, and you want to share that new information. Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood told the story of the Code from an industry standpoint. Forbidden Hollywood has that, but it also has the audience’s point of view. After all, a grassroots movement forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code.

Raquel Stecher: Forbidden Hollywood includes reproduced images from the pre-Code era and early film history. How did you curate these images and what were your criteria for including a particular photograph?

Mark A. Vieira: The text suggests what image should be placed on a page or on succeeding pages. Readers wonder what Jason Joy looked like or what was so scandalous about CALL HER SAVAGE (’32), so I have to show them. But I can’t put just any picture on the page, especially to illustrate a well-known film. My readers own film books and look at Hollywood photos on the Internet. I have to find a photo that they haven’t seen. It has to be in mint condition because Running Press’s reproduction quality is so good. The image has to be arresting, a photo that is worthy in its own right, powerfully composed and beautifully lit—not just a “representative” photo from a pre-Code film. It also has to work with the other photos on that page or on the next page, in terms of composition, tone and theme. That’s what people liked about Sin in Soft Focus. It had sections that were like rooms in a museum or gallery, where each grouping worked on several levels. In Forbidden Hollywood, I’m going for a different effect. The photo choices and groupings give a feeling of movement, a dynamic affect. In this one, the pictures jump off the page.

Raquel Stecher: Why did you decide on a coffee table art book style format?

Mark A. Vieira: Movies are made of images. Sexy images dominated pre-Code. To tell the story properly, you have to show those images. Movie stills in the pre-Code era were shot with 8x10 view cameras. The quality of those big negatives is ideal for a fine-art volume. And film fans know the artistry of the Hollywood photographers of that era: Fred Archer, Milton Brown, William Walling, Bert Longworth, Clarence Bull, Ernest Bachrach and George Hurrell. They’re all represented—and credited—in Forbidden Hollywood.

Raquel Stecher: What was the research process like for Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: I started at the University of Southern California, where I studied film 40 years ago. I sat down with Ned Comstock, the Senior Library Assistant, and mapped out a plan. USC has scripts from MGM, Universal and the Fox Film Corporation. The Academy Library has files from the Production Code Administration. I viewed DVDs and 16mm prints from my collection. I reviewed books on the Code by Thomas Doherty and other scholars. I jumped into the trade magazines of the period using the Media History Digital Library online. I created a file folder for each film of the era. It’s like detective work. It’s tedious—until it gets exciting.

Raquel Stecher: How does pre-Code differ from other film genres?

Mark A. Vieira: Well, pre-Code is not a genre like Westerns or musicals. It’s a rediscovered element of film history. It was named in retrospect, like film noir, but unlike film noir, pre-Code has lines of demarcation—March 1930 through June 1934—the four-year period before the Production Code was strengthened and enforced. When Mae West made I’M NO ANGEL (’33), she had no idea she was making a pre-Code movie. The pre-Code tag came later, when scholars realized that these films shared a time, a place and an attitude. There was a Code from 1930 on, but the studios negotiated with it, bypassed it or just plain ignored it, making movies that were irreverent and sexy. Modern viewers say, “I’ve never seen that in an old Hollywood movie!” This spree came to an end in 1934, when a Catholic-led boycott forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code. It was administered for 20 years by Joseph Breen, so pre-Code is really pre-Breen.

Raquel Stecher: What are a few pre-Code films that you believe defined the era?

Mark A. Vieira: That question has popped up repeatedly since I wrote Sin in Soft Focus, so I decided which films had led to the reconstituted Code, and I gave them their own chapters. To qualify for that status, a film had to meet these standards: (1) They were adapted from proscribed books or plays; (2) They were widely seen; (3) They were attacked in the press; (4) They were heavily cut by the state or local boards; (5) They were banned in states, territories or entire countries; and (6) They were condemned in the Catholic Press and by the Legion of Decency. To name the most controversial: THE COCK-EYED WORLD (’29) (off-color dialogue); THE DIVORCEE (’30) (the first film to challenge the Code); FRANKENSTEIN (’31) (horror); SCARFACE (’32) (gang violence); RED-HEADED WOMAN (’32) (an unrepentant homewrecker); and CALL HER SAVAGE (’32) (the pre-Code film that manages to violate every prohibition of the Code). My big discovery was THE SIGN OF THE CROSS (’32). This Cecil B. DeMille epic showed the excesses of ancient Rome in such lurid detail that it offended Catholic filmgoers, thus setting off the so-called “Catholic Crusade.”

Raquel Stecher: It’s fascinating to read correspondence, interviews and reviews that react to the perceived immorality of these movies. How does including these conversations give your readers context about the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: Like some film noir scholars, I could tell you how I feel about the film, what it means, the significance of its themes. So what? Those are opinions. My readers deserve facts. Those can only come from documents of the period: letters, memos, contracts, news articles. These are the voices of the era, the voices of history. A 100-year-old person might misremember what happened. A document doesn’t misremember. It tells the tale. My task is to present a balanced selection of these documents so as not to stack the deck in favor of one side or the other.

Raquel Stecher: In your book you discuss the attempts made to censor movies from state and federal government regulation to the creation of the MPPDA to the involvement of key figures like Joseph Breen and Will H. Hays. What is the biggest misconception about the Production Code?

Mark A. Vieira: There are a number of misconceptions. I label them and counter them: (1) “Silent films are not “pre-Code films.” (2) Not every pre-Code film was a low-budget shocker but made with integrity and artistry; most were big-budget star vehicles. (3) The pre-Code censorship agency was the SRC (Studio Relations Committee), part of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA)—not the MPPA, which did not exist until the 1960s! (4) The Code did not mandate separate beds for married couples. (5) Joseph Breen was not a lifelong anti-Semite, second only to Hitler. He ended his long career with the respect and affection of his Jewish colleagues.

Raquel Stecher: How did the silent movie era and the Great Depression have an impact on the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: The silent era allowed the studios the freedom to show nudity and to write sexy intertitles, but the local censors cut those elements from release prints, costing the studios a lot of money, which in part led to the 1930 Code. The Great Depression emptied the theaters (or closed them), so producers used sexy films to lure filmgoers back to the theaters.

Raquel Stecher: TCM viewers love pre-Codes. What do you think it is about movies from several decades ago that still speak to contemporary audiences?

Mark A. Vieira: You’re right. Because we can see these films so readily, we forget that eight decades have passed since they premiered. We don’t listen to music of such a distant time, so how can we enjoy the art of a period in which community standards were so different from what they are now? After all, this was the tail end of the Victorian era, and the term “sex” was not used in polite society. How did it get into films like MIDNIGHT MARY (’33) and SEARCH FOR BEAUTY (’34)? There were protests against such films, and there were also millions of people enjoying them. What they enjoyed is what TCM viewers enjoy—frankness, honesty, risqué humor, beautiful bodies and adult-themed stories.

Raquel Stecher: What do you hope readers take away from your book?

Mark A. Vieira: One thing struck me as I wove the letters of just plain citizens into the tapestry of this story. Americans of the 1930s wrote articulate, heartfelt letters. One can only assume that these people were well educated and that they did a lot of reading—and letter writing. I want my readers to read the entire text of Forbidden Hollywood. I worked to make it accurate, suspenseful and funny. There are episodes in it that are hilarious. These people were witty! So I hope you’ll enjoy the pictures, but more so that you’ll dive into the story and let it carry you along. Here’s a quote about SO THIS IS AFRICA (‘33) from a theater owner: “I played it to adults only (over 15 years old). Kids who have been 12 for the last 10 years aged rapidly on their way to our box office.”

[dearest-alexander]

You Are The Reason Chapter III (Tom Holland x Reader fanfiction)

Summary: "I could be anything in the world, yet I wanted to be yours. But you don’t love me yet…or do you?“ The whole world thought you’re together but something’s stopping you, something’s stopping him.

Summary Chapter:  Volunteering for a good cause had never been this rewarding and humbling yet.. 

YOUR POV

I’ve been friends with Gabrielle ever since I could remember. My early childhood pictures were not complete without her in it . She was also with me during the funeral of my grandfather. I remember how her small chubby  hands tightly meshed with mine as they lower down his coffin. Even at such a young age, she was intuitive, benevolent and selfless. Whenever I fell down and scratched my knee, she will rub my back to soothe me until our moms came hand in hand with the first aid kit.  Those were the very reasons I knew why she’s gonna be a brilliant doctor. We remained in contact even after I migrated to London with my parents..

WhenI got my big break for a movie project, we celebrated together all night, just the two of us, drinking red wine straight from the bottle on her rented spacious one-bedroom studio. When I mentioned to her that I’ll be coming in the States from time to time to fulfill a handful of job offers, she was over the moon, and so am I. She drove me on my US auditions, lingered in the waiting room until I was finished for day . That’s where she met Harrison and Tom who I’ve been friends with already.

Living alone in an almost foreign soil, even just for a few months, made me miss my England even more. Hotel rooms weren’t envisaging homeliness. Back then, Gabby’s still living an hour away from me, a moderate distance from where she’s finishing her studies. After 6 months however, she was designated here in the city for her residency. I begged her to stay with me since we’re practically in each other’s presence whenever none of us were occupied. She happily settled on the spare ample space beneath my bedroom and was in charge when I’ll be flying back home to St. James’

When I earned enough money for a semi-permanent place here in LA, we roamed the city by ourselves. The need to prove myself  that I could do one adult thing in my life simmered intently on my bones. I good-heartedly declined offers, no special treatments from anyone on my team which they respected . She, who without doubt, the more “grown up” one between the two of us, would take a step in front of me whenever she felt like agents, realtors and sellers were being greedy and pushy.. I was gullible to such sly advancements, therefore on the third day, Gabby insisted that I should just let her negotiate since she knew how Americans think nowadays and I’m basically an alien.  Therefore, under the blistering Californian sun, Gabby and I wandered and ended up on an empty yet maintained and recently sold loft in this part of the city.  

The apartment’s high ceiling drew the illusion of expansiveness. Her mom being an owner of an Interior Design firm in San Diego, arranged the place to complement our boho chic and industrial design preference. The kitchen, with its wooden paneled cabinets and marble countertop  contrasted with the interior’s  black hardwood floors. The 360view of the city windows allowed natural light to seep through the crack in the grey curtains and when the night time comes, we could properly see the vibrant spectacles of the city.  The formerly study area was converted as Gabby’s room and the loft bedroom with black-framed floor to ceiling glass walls remained as my room. The stark white and soundproof walls proved to be more useful especially to the foul noises coming from the living room.

“Die, Die! Die! You bastard!” I stood up, shouted aggressively as I pressed my fingers harder on the console with obvious determination.

“Ohh! Such profanity! You kiss your mum with that mouth?” Tom retorted back below me, his ambidextrous fingers made hurried clicking noises with his as well. He’s leaning his elbows on his denim-covered knees, both of us transfixed on the television and the joysticks in between our resolute hands.

“Oh, piss off!” I responded pointedly, resuming my seat beside him.

It’s not unusual for Tom and Harrison  to be here early in the morning. Our days wasted away like this every single time we’re not working. They’ll  show up a minute after 8 am and sometimes with a sprightly Tessa. On a number of circumstances, when either men are too exhausted and drowsy to drive  we just let them crash in the couch. Tom at least. Below him would be Tessa on the extra dog bed I purchased just for her. Most times, my dog betrayed me and joined them downstairs, not wanting to part with his playmates.

Therefore, on this  humid Sunday morning, two weeks since the awards night, we’re indulging in  a video game he just bought, a game we’ve both been dying to get. I lost track of the time after Tom’s second win. I don’t usually mind losing, but with him, it’s  a whole different story.

Unbeknownst to the unlocking sound of the entrance door, we sat on the edge of our seats occasionally throwing in congenial insults to each other, someone entered the premise. An ineffable thing you learn when you live with someone, you can actually tell when they arrived by the sound of their footsteps or by the sound of their sighs when they breathe. A set of keys jangled into the plate that says “Keys” on the foyer table. Both our dogs, who were resting underneath the coffee table at the center of the room, rushed to the door. Four greeting barks.

Gabby entered with both her hands bearing two brown grocery bags and lightly slammed the door with her foot. I couldn’t see her but that’s what I was imagining her doing.  

“Hey guys!” we could hear her shout breathily  from the kitchen. “Hey doggos! You want cookies?”

Tom and I answered with an absentminded “Hey!” Our laser focused attention not wavering off from the game.

“There’s a minor collision five streets away, that’s why we took a little longer than usual.” I heard her opened  the jar of cookies for the dogs then cans and bags of chips hit the marbled countertop of our kitchen.

“Uh-huh.” I said lazily, biting my lip as I try to come up with a strategy to my game.

“Where’s Harrison?” Tom slightly turned his body towards her voice, his eyes remained in front.  Her response drifted off as I saw Tom’s team finally found my troop’s headquarters, guns and bombs on hand.

“Why do you  make it so easy? Might as well give me that 50 right now.” I could hear the complacence in his voice. He slanted his body as he stirred his avatar’s car to the left and get out of it.

“You wish, Holland.”

“.... Speaking of which, you guys better be rea........ oh cmon!” Gabby continued. I heard the soft patters of her socked feet against the unblemished hardwood floors to where Tom and I were currently and comfortably lounging. A bowl of half-finished dry cheerios and four empty cans of juice on the wooden coffee table. The dogs had resumed their last position all the while staring at Gabby, waiting for another set of cookies.

“Really? For four hours now?” she breathed incredulously. Her arms folded impatiently on her chest.  I could feel the deathly glares on the back of our heads, I can’t risk confirming it by looking back. Tom’s avatar was circling back around the curb, right where I want him. I pressed a few buttons as I choose my killing weapon.

“You even haven’t taken a bath yet!!!” Her remark barely passing my ears as I quickly press the buttons of the joystick. She rounded from our backs to get a good look at our impaled positions on the sofa... or for us to take her disapproving annoyance.

“ I already did! Leave me alone!” Tom sounded like a teenager scolded by his mom for not cleaning his room. He was dressed effortlessly in his plain black shirt, jeans and his dark sneakers by the door, the curls on his head untamed.

“I’m not talking to you, idiot.” I could feel the penetrating and accusatory daggers she’s sending my way..

“C’mon guys, the program is in--- she glanced down at her watch—two hours. We have to drive there for an hour. Who knows if it’s gonna be totally jammed right now.” She demanded and stood by the accent chairs on our right side. Gabby doesn’t like being late.

As a favour to Harrison, Tom and I had agreed to join both of them in Gabby’s  hospitals’ feeding program, where she is currently a third year resident. Although her hospital’s a few blocks from here, the program will take place on the outskirts of the city, right where impoverished  US citizens are deprived. They needed extra pairs of volunteering hands as it was said to be a big annual event. Harrison popped the question while we’re all having dinner, because, even through the years of our friendship, he and Gabby were reluctant to take advantage of their status with that being close friends with Tom and I. They never asked us for help with anything hence, Tom and I were absolutely delighted to oblige.

“5 minutes, Gabs.” I promised half- heartedly, getting excited to rub  my brewing win to Tom’s smug face. “Besides I could get ready in like... ten minutes.” I  confidently reasoned back, still not looking her way. She exhaled and strode in front of us, blocking our view from the television mounted on the wall, her diminutive hands on her hips. Tom and I moved our heads synchronously on either side of her to watch the penultimate team battle with which we’re both engaged in.

“Look, thank you so much for doing this thing with me, and I love you both even more for it, but you’ve been playing since this morning.” She’s eyeing me heavily. Gabby did sound reasonable. As always. I hate it sometimes.

Tom’s persistent hands on his console receded, letting Gabby’s words sink in. His  attention affected from Gabby’s reason. With a gruff, “Tell me again, why am I going.” We stretched our necks, trying to find a better angle from Gabby’s impeding and unwavering authoritative stance in front.

“....Because you’re a good human being and you’re eternally grateful for Gabby’s existence and her relationship with your best mate that ended all those gay rumours a few years ago?” I stated in monotonous voice.

“On point.” Without taking our eyes off of the screen and for a second of truce, he raised his right hand to give me a high five, I struck it with my left.

We heard another commotion by the door and the dogs, once again, addressed the newcomer.

“Don’t tell me you idiots are still playing, we have to leave in 15 minutes! And it’s been two hours since we left!” Harrison reprimanded softly  and stopped at the back of the couch.. He then leaned  his elbows on the cushion behind and in between Tom and I. He too, tries to get a decent view of the LCD.

“So..who’s winning?” he excitedly added. If Gabby is the austere mom, Harrison is the fun dad, whereas Tom and I are the juvenile delinquents. I smiled despite myself, inching my way to the right end of the sofa, Tom doing the same thing on his left.

“Harrison!” Gabby all but shrieked at Harrison who chuckled.

“Right, right. Sorry babe.” He cleared his throat and I saw Gabby nod before Harrison walked out of the room.  Or so I thought.

“I’m coming for you Holla---hey! Hey! What are you doing!”

In a flush of movements, Harrison’s tall stature was in front of me, his forearms going under my leggings as he hauled me over his right shoulder like a sack of flour. Earning an adamant and incredulous protest from me.I saw  Tom’s right hand halted on his controller, his hands splayed out for a second of discombobulation as to why his opponent’s avatar suddenly stopped firing in the middle of the game, and then he noticed the hilarity of my position on his bestfriend’s shoulder. Instantly, he grabbed his phone on the carpeted floor of the living room, joystick laid on the table.

“Hey! Put me down jerk!! Harrison! Put me down this instant!” I ejaculated, pouncing on his broad back in futile attempts. He walked over and gave a peck to a smiling and proud Gabby. ‘Thanks babe.”

I groaned. “Tom! Help me!” Harrison gripped my shins together to stop me from squirming.  I cried out from my mortifying situation to Tom who completely abandoned the game I was wining. He positioned himself into a more comfortable way on the sofa, one of his foot under thigh and in both of his hands, his camera phone shook with laughter. My dog stood, confused and followed  Harrison’s shoulder. He placed his two front paws on Harrison’s back, making sure I wasn’t in trouble of any kind then back down on all fours again. Gabby stepped behind him, giving my dog a loving pat on the head.

The phone on Tom’s hand followed our movements as Harrison started to move away to literally drag my ass up to, I presume, Gabby and mine’s shared bathroom across to the kitchen.

“Sorry mate, he’s a.. um... a bit tall!” his hand tried to hold his phone while he continues to howl and shake in laughter. I slumped and pressed down my reddening face on Harrison’s back, defeated.

“This is absurd, you’re dead Harrison! You all are! I’m gonna kick you once I’m down from here. “ I looked up from Harrison’s Latissimus Dorsi  to threaten Tom and Gabby who were now practically skipping very much alike Snow White’s seven dwarves.

“Oh, wow, you really can be feisty. A few more minutes into that game and you’ll be saying the F word. “ I felt Harrison’s amused laugh from behind his nape which I’m currently glaring at.

“Told yah!” Tom interjected, chuckling before putting down his phone and barging in the kitchen.

Harrison dropped me with ease outside the bathroom door. He gave me an apologizing yet humorous smirk. I scowled at him.

“Hey! I’m just doing what she told me to!” He argued, his palms in mock surrender.

“Nah, you’re just a sap when it comes to my bestfriend. “ I replied with a chuckle as He took two steps into the open kitchen to resume helping Gabby who was already unpacking the rest of the items on our countertop, her back to us.

“And proud to be......not very unlike yourself. “He jokingly winked back at me, the last part barely a whisper. His head turned back to where Tom was pand my eyes took a cautious glimpse as he lingered by the opened fridge, humming to himself while he looked for a lunch snack, too concentrated on the task at hand to hear us. Our dogs, on their tails behind him. Harrison’s smile couldn’t get any nastier when he followed my eyes.. He reached out and ruffled my hair like an annoying big brother would.  I swatted his hand away. Gabby turned around at the sound of my groan, oblivious to me and her boyfriend’s silent exchange.

“What are you still standing there for? “ she asked rhetorically. With this, Tom looked at our direction and regarded us with a suspicious look, two greek yogurts on his hands.

“Your robe’s already inside. 10 minutes.” Gabby pointed to the bathroom subsequently unloading the last items inside the brown bag and stacking them into the customized Pantry cabinet under the staircase.

“Urgh. Yes Mum.” With a roll my eyes, I dragged my feet and closed the door behind an amused Harrison and bossy Gabby, and hungry Tom.

I put my hand under the running shower, testing the temperature first before going under. Not long did the rapid stream of lukewarm water drowned out the voices from the other side of the room and I was made aware of my solitude.

The past weeks regressed  to our normal mundane routine. Everyone has work for a few more weeks, til we fly back home to England with the exception of Gabby. Tom, Harrison and I hang out during the day, if we’re all unoccupied, doing chores or anything to keep ourselves amused.  Gabby will join us later in the afternoon or early in the evening, depending on her shift.

My mind drifted back to the brunet on the other side of the wall. He must be halfway through his-my- greek yogurt by now.

I caught the upward motion of my lips as I recall the ease that re-settled over us after the revel weeks ago.

I nervously threaded my fingers through my hair as Gabby and I sauntered to where Tom was animatedly chatting with Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield backstage. His team including Harrison was already there. Gabby gave me a sideway smirk. “What?”

Tobey and Andrew gave Tom one-armed hug as they said their goodbyes. When both gentlemen were out of sight, Gabby pulled Tom’s head under and between her armpits and messed his hair. “How dare you make me cry Holland!” Instinctively, Harrison caught the carved bronze sculpture that Tom is giving him. Gabby’s headlock never loosened . He could easily remove himself from the situation yet chosen not to.

When she let him go, Tom stretched his suit. “Crybaby.” He sneered at Gabby who poked out her tongue on him. Tom stepped into my open arms as I engulfed him in another congratulatory hug again.

“Was I ok?” he whispered against my naked shoulder, the contact made tiny tsunamis on my stomach.

Still within his embrace, “You were more than that.” I breathed to his ear. Then in a nescient and brazen move, I pressed a long kiss to the chiseled cheek I could reach.

I switched off the shower’s knob and coiled my hair in the towel I used for drying myself. I put my robe on and wiped the fog that clouded the mirror. I stared at my mouth as I recite the following words:

Tom and I are good friends. Just that. I don’t need to overthink it.  Stop overthinking it, alright?!” My reflection nodded and smiled.

Albeit, in the deepest and unexplored corner of my mind, a prisoner impatiently and furiously banged on the metal bars holding her captive.

The jazz music loomed over the ubiquitous speakers of the entire flat. The boys were in the kitchen, leaning on the countertop, heels crossed with each other. Their reflex turned to the opening creaks of the bathroom door; Harrison’s spoon and Tom’s doughnut halfway to their mouths. Tom immediately turned his back the other way while Harrison, nonchalantly looked down and continued to eat his food. Head bobbing in tune with the music. Tom elbowed him and he protested a “Bruv?” yogurt still on his tongue.

The dogs chased me as I ran up to my room, thinking I was in a gaming mood. I dressed myself in a button down long sleeves and tucked it in my best fitted jeans. I grabbed the small backpack on the floor before barging down the stairs. I’m anew and ready to go.

“I kept my word, 10 minutes!” Two men looked up from their phones for a minute and muttered a small and deadpanned “Yey!” I jogged down the stairs with two dogs right behind me. Gabby was nowhere in sight. I plopped down on the three-seater-couch beside Tom who was reading something on his phone. His dog nudged her head on his knees and took a seat beside his feet. She lie down on her back as his human started rubbing his socked feet on her warm belly. Though his face remained in a determined concentration, he clasped his free hand on my ankle when I pulled it up over his thighs naturally.

My flatmate must have cleaned the table while I was in the bath. Everything was in orderly fashion again like some page from an Interior Design magazine. The decorative vignettes that I removed on the table while I was playing with Tom was reinstated. Which made me look for the video game console strewn  under the 64 inches television.

“Oi! Where did our game go?” I exhorted at the two men beside me.

“Gabby confiscated them and locked it in her room. Apparently, she can’t trust me and Tom with it.” Harrison supplied, dropping his phone on the coffee table. “Which reminds me... I need a favour from you. Both of you.”  He uttered in an undertone.  

With this, Me and Tom edged our bodies closer to where Harrison was sitting but Tom still holding on to both my feet.

“I don’t wanna kick you out of your own house mate, but um.. Can me and Gabby have this place for tonight? She doesn’t know but I planned something for her.” He confessed in a timid voice that I can’t help but smile.

“What? What did you plan to do?” Tom queried, excitement in his tone.

“Git! Don’t ask that! Don’t tell us!” I lightly smacked Tom’s head and frowned at him.

“Why do you always assume that I’m gonna do something promiscuous?” Glaring at Tom’s sheepish grin.

“Well, aren’t you gonna? “ we both raised our eyebrows at him.

“No! Well, yeah maybe....I got her a necklace, that’s all. And I planned to cook for her tonight. “ Harrison explained bashfully.

“What’s wrong with our place?” Tom chided, sounding butt-hurt

“Well, do we have a perfectly functioning oven?” Harrison accused

“Um.. no..” Tom grumbled.

“Do we have, I don’t know romantic high ceilings?” Harrison gestured dramatically over the modern drop lights above our 4-seater dining table.

“Well, no.”

“Is our flat clean?”

“Absolutely not.” Tom jested, Harrison’s facts dawning on him.

“Harrison, I got you. Let me grab an overnight bag.” I winked at him, stood up and shuffled his blonde hair.

“Thank you!!! You can sleep in my room.”  He smiled up at me.

I was rounding the dining table when I heard Tom complained,

“Uh no way man, We don’t know what kinds of shit are in your room. She’ll sleep in mine and I’ll sleep in yours.” Tom disclosed, laying his entire body on the spot I just vacated.  Harrison threw a nearby pillow on his face.

I packed lightly, just a two sets of clothes for later when I shower and for tomorrow. Gabby reemerged for her room, wearing a plain white deep v-neck shirt, jeans and ankle boots.

“What are you doing with an overnight bag?” She asked, noticing the duffle bag on my shoulder. Before I could lie,

“We’ll continue our game at me and Harrison’s place tonight.” Tom shuffled from the hall, wiping his hands with the dish towel and I could see the dogs bent over two food bowls in the kitchen.

“Why can’t you do it here?”

“Because, you’re gonna be here. We can’t concentrate if you’re just gonna peek out and shout from  your room every now and then. And you have work tomorrow.” Tom shrugged.

“Good point.” Gabby frowned in agreement.

“Oh and I’m gonna bring my baby too. The vet said that I should keep an eye on him." That part was wholly true. I stretched an elbow on Tom’s shoulders and stared back at Gabby, acting natural as possible. Which is funny, considering Tom and I were such professional liars.

“Ok fine.  Guys, Listen up. This is the plan.” She clapped her hands, the action reminded me of a soccer coach about to give his students a pep talk before a big game.

“It’s 12:14, we have be at the tents by 2pm. We’re gonna load those boxes on the car, Harrison would drive. We’re gonna drop the dogs to your apartment, 10 blocks away, maybe it'll take just 10 minutes tops and off we go. Capisce?” she said in one breath.

“Maam, yes, maam!”

[blazerina]

Real (Matt x MC)

[A little note: I am still in decision mode about the LI my MC Veronica will pursue in Red Carpet Diaries (RCD). This is a little idea that popped into my mind after playing last week’s chapter. I really do love both Matt and Seth (and Seth does make a little appearance in the story too). I was unsure about writing this and I’m trying something new, so here goes nothing!]

[Summary: After their first “date” to dinner, Veronica and Matt reflect on the lives they live in Hollywood and what the other might be thinking about them right now.]

[Word Count: 1723]

Veronica’s hands were shaking as she tried to unlock the door to her apartment.  She couldn’t wait to get inside and take a deep breath.  Was she really just on a date with Matt Rodriguez? No way. She was dreaming.  She had to be dreaming. Things like this don’t happen to people from Iowa. Especially not people like her from Iowa.

She wanted to shriek and jump up and down on her bed, dance to a Taylor Swift song and paint her nails bright pink. She suddenly felt like she was in high school again and the captain of the football team, the student body president, the guy everyone loved, had chosen her. She still just couldn’t believe it. Could this really be happening?

She fumbled with her keys, having trouble with the lock. She learned early on that there was a special trick, a way to hold the key just right in order to make it work.

“What did Seth say?” She asked out loud.  

Veronica crinkled her brow in a show of frustration mixed with deep thought. She had called upon her neighbor and first-ever-LA-friend to help her with her keys and the lock on her door, quite frequently as of late. He had shown her time and time again how to do it, but she could never remember.

“Righty tight-y…?” Veronica whispered, staring at the lock, hoping her gaze would help it to function properly.  She fiddled with it for a few more minutes before shouting out in aggravation.

“Whoa there, Iowa, it’s gonna be okay…” Seth appeared in the hallway, carrying two paper bags of groceries, and laughing at his friend.

“Do you have any of that slippery stuff? The stuff that makes things move easier?” She wined, holding up her key.

“WD 40?” Seth suggested, raising an eyebrow and staring at Veronica as if she was an alien.

“Whatever it’s called.” She sighed.

“You don’t need that.” He explained, setting his grocery bags on the floor, just outside his apartment.

“Left-y loose-y. Remember?” Seth took the key from her and popped it easily into the lock, turning the key to the left and opening the door effortlessly.

“How did you? But I swear I tried that!” Veronica protested.

“Face it, Ronnie.  You need me.” He laughed.  “How could you even make it in this place without a helper? You know, I’m always on the hunt for a new job. If you need someone to follow you around and open doors for you all day, I’m your man.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She rolled her eyes and stepped inside her apartment. “And with that, I bid you, goodnight.” She exaggerated a deep curtsey as she held onto either side of the door frame, giggling a little bit.

As she rose again into the upright position, she saw Rocket out of the corner of her eye, digging through one of the toppled over grocery bags outside Seth’s apartment.

“Looks like you’re not all alone tonight, for once!” She joked, pointing at the raccoon.

Seth whirled around on his heel and tried immediately to spread his body out among the width of the hallway to stop Rocket from escaping.

“Good one.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.  

He tried to hide the fact the he thought, more often than he cared to admit, about Veronica and her jokes. Was that Veronica’s attempt to flirt with him? Or was she just really friendly? He was thankful for her and felt less lonely since she appeared on his doorstep, but he had no idea what she thought of him. He hoped one day he’d have the guts to find out, but that definitely wasn’t happening tonight while he tried once again to chase down a raccoon.

“Rocket! You little thief…”

Seth headed for the fire escape to chase Rocket as Veronica called out to him, “Enjoy your night, you two!”

She closed the door quickly and locked it immediately with a heavy sigh.  That brief distraction could not take away her pure delight.  What a great day! She nailed her audition AND got to spend serious one-on-one time with a mega super huge movie star.  Never in her wildest dreams did she think this could happen to her.

However, it only took a brief few minutes for her inner-critic to suddenly take over.  Could she really trust Matt? Why did he ask her of all people, to dinner tonight? Surely he wouldn’t want to be seen with a nobody from nowhere like her, right? He could have anyone he wanted at any time – why did he all of a sudden decided he wanted her?

She was proud of herself for not letting him kiss her.  The time at the park cuddling on the bench was even more romantic and beautiful than any movie scene a script could depict.  But was it real?

Veronica made herself a cup of tea and curled up on the couch in her tiny little home. It was quiet. No television or music in the background for noise.  Only the faint hum of traffic nearby and the occasional siren. As she sipped her tea, her thoughts volleyed back and forth between dreams and reality.

She wanted to be strong and not let her insecurities take over. The voice of her mother echoed in her head about not letting Tinsel Town change her. Her mom made her promise to always be the same sweet, thoughtful, compassionate Veronica Jean Morgan she had raised her to be. She knew she had to be careful and not let Matt get into her psyche too much, but just for tonight, she thought it was okay.  She could be giddy and excited.  She was allowed.

Matt appeared to be the man of her dreams and everything anyone in Hollywood could ever want – a talented, well-liked, hunk who drives a Toyota? Who’s interested in me? Veronica dramatically swooned and fell backward onto the couch so that she was now laying down, tea still in hand, as she spoke it out into the universe.  

A plea, a hope, a prayer:

I really hope he likes me for me.

I hope it’s real.

Please.

Let it be real.

***

Matt wasn’t ready to go home just yet.  Whenever he had a lot to think about, his instinct was to drive.

After dropping Veronica off at her apartment, he headed toward a road he knew well. It would take him a while to get there and back, which was perfect because he had a lot on his mind.

Veronica was completely different from the girls he usually pursued.  What was it about her that made her stand out? He knew he had not spent a ton of time with her, but he also knew enough about her already to know that her small town charm, and big heart, was incredibly endearing in a place like this.

The way she had so confidently helped him outrun the press – he actually had fun.  And the little acting job she did to get that fan to leave them alone made him laugh.  He had never been able to feel so natural, so much himself, with a person.

LA was so full of fakers. People who tried way too hard to say and do what everyone else wanted them to say and do. It was refreshing to be with someone who seemed to be so sure of who she was. Matt didn’t have to work at getting to know her, or put on a show to really impress her.  

As he turned down his favorite stretch of the long winding road, he swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his chest.  He gripped the steering wheel firmly while his mind raced.

What if she doesn’t like the real me? What if she wants the Matt Rodriquez people read about in the magazines and see on screen? What if my Toyota is a turn off because I’m not as “sexy” in person as she expected?

He told himself he was stupid for thinking that way. He had women practically throwing themselves at him, why would Veronica be any different? Surely he had this in the bag…

But he hadn’t kissed her yet.  She didn’t try to kiss him.

He remembered wistfully, sitting on the bench in front of the fountain. The quiet peaceful scene in front of them and around them was incredibly romantic. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, stroking her arm with his fingertips every now and then. Her head was resting on his shoulder, neither one of them saying a word.

That felt so right. So real. So…normal…

He had reached the end of the road and needed to turn around.  While he made his way back to the posh area of town where he resided, he couldn’t help but focus again on the time he spent with Veronica. He knew that his career in the movie industry was his choice. He had chosen a profession focused on looks, and pretending to be someone you aren’t.

But as he pulled into his driveway and walked into his huge, empty house, he realized how alone he truly was. He was good at acting, or at least in the big muscle-y action-type flicks. He was hoping Tender Nothings might change the way that society perceived him, but that remained to be seen.

Now in the kitchen, he reached for a beer in the fridge and cracked it open; the noise echoing against his stained concrete floors and marble countertops.  Sighing heavily, he took a long sip and then looked around.  

The only actual thing I have to offer her is myself. This other stuff is just…crap…fancy cars, big houses, crazy parties…that can’t be what she’s after…can it? Please let her be different. Let her be deep enough to see past the façade and the sham of this awful town. I hope I can convince her to love the real me.

***

In their vastly different parts of the city, two people from drastically different walks of life thought to themselves about the other, and the time they had just spent together.  One worried this was the beginning of a relationship built on false pretenses and another worried that what was actually beneath the glitz and glamour of a tempting life, would never be enough.

[charlieharry1]

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are inbound links the most crucial a part of your search engine optimization marketing campaign? In the event that they’re now not the most vital, they’re genuinely one of the satisfactory search engine optimization techniques out there. That’s due to the fact back-links inform google you’re an authoritative supply. When google bots crawl net pages, they discover extraordinary hyperlinks in the content material. The more your content is linked, the better your net pages will seem on search engine consequences. This helps enhance both your area and page authority. Area authority is your internet site’s relevance in serps, particularly in a positive topic or niche. Page authority is how properly a selected web web page ranks on seek engine results. Inbound links not handiest improve the connected page’s authority however also can improve your ordinary domain authority. One-way links have even greater benefits. For instance, they help increase website site visitors. If a person is reading a weblog and your web page is connected, the reader would possibly click on to your website’s hyperlink. Are one-way links the maximum crucial component of seo? One-way links can offer many benefits in your seo performance. But are they the most crucial device on your seo method? No longer exactly. Many factors make contributions to linkable content material. These encompass amazing content and a incredible internet site. Similarly, these factors additionally improve your seo scores on my own, assisting attract even extra backlinking possibilities. Here’s greater data at the exclusive search engine optimization techniques you must additionally use. Create first-rate content material

Read Also:-  Top 12 free SEO audit report tools you must have to try

even as this looks like an apparent strategy, growing exquisite content is the most important key for your backlinking success. Web sites need to link to instructional and exciting content. Even if you’re now not a huge call on your industry, publishing precise content will appeal to other web sites for your area of interest and could locate your content material. Google’s bots are also getting smarter. They are able to perceive websites that keyword stuff and use different awful search engine optimization tactics, so it is able to be vital to paintings with an seo organisation. Instead, consciousness on writing herbal and conversational content material as a way to entice an target market. The use of media also entices your target audience and serves as linkable content. Movies, pix, and infographics are especially popular — it’s recommended you upload this media into your blog posts. The subject you cowl will even make an impact and you’ll see the best effects when you create and post unique content. This includes writing opinions, engaging in interviews with other enterprise leaders, hold a case take a look at, and cover any industry events and conventions. So long as the topic is relevant in your target audience, you’ll fast establish your self as an enterprise leader. Technical search engine optimization

whilst content material is king, technical seo is the inspiration of a incredible seo method. Google may also penalize your internet site for technical issues, together with net web page errors and interstitial pop-ups. Similarly, google bots can without problems move slowly titles, meta descriptions, and headers to higher rank your website. Internet ux and cellular design

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despite the significance of content and internet site overall performance, many businesses hold to spend money on black hat seo. Their links seem on spammy web sites, causing a discount in seo overall performance. In case you acquire too many horrific inbound links, your website might be eliminated from search consequences altogether (seek engine magazine). In addition, google is usually releasing algorithm updates to higher catch spamming back links and different harmful seo techniques. In addition they began implementing human evaluations that manually penalizes terrible websites. If you’ve been doing this you will virtually want an search engine optimization agency to help locate and disavow spammy backlinks. How do you become aware of a awful one-way link? This is more difficult than you think. First, the website will have a very low area score or authority. However this isn’t the only signal of sketchy one way links. Other signs and symptoms consist of numerous websites connected in the same content, web sites related unnaturally, horrific web page format, and mirrored pages. Frequently to discover these spammy oneway links you need to apply a aggregate of gear like google webmasters, semrush, and/or ahrefs. Other backlinking elements to take into account

even as backlinking continues to be vital for search engine optimization, backlinking success depends on a variety of things — greater than simply the range of backlinks you receive and the supply of the website. Here’s what to realize. Overall oneway links

the entire backlinks don’t always imply you always need a variety of one-way links, however the back-links you want to rank relying at the keywords you operate. A few key phrases are notably aggressive and require numerous oneway links, even as a few nichey key phrases are simpler to rank for. Total follow oneway links

in case you best have a few brilliant websites linking for your net web page, your search engine optimization performance could be better than if several toxic hyperlinks have been linking for your content material. You’ll need inbound links from “comply with” websites, now not “no comply with” web sites. A way to improve your search engine optimization with out buying oneway links? Absolute confidence one-way links will remain an critical recognition of every seo marketing campaign, and it’s actual they will help your website rank better. After all, it’s regularly said that one way links are the maximum vital component of top notch search engine optimization ratings. At the same time as exceptional oneway links can enhance your search engine optimization effects, spammy inbound links can most effective hurt your seo overall performance and can even take away your website from  Digital Marketing Company Bournemouth seek engine consequences. For this reason, if you have to now not buy one-way links what must you do? At the same time as achieving awesome back links is the preferred aim, consciousness on developing incredible content material, and having a high-quality internet site. A linkable website with a few first rate organic oneway links built through the years is higher than several poisonous one way links pointing to a low-quality internet site. Are you continue to suffering to attain seo consequences? We will help. Need to recognize how lengthy search engine optimization takes?

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[jinjikook]

she’s so nice (M)

word count: 2.7k

genre: mild smut + angst ; asshole!hyungwon

pairing: reader/hyungwon (side reader/namjoon for a hot second)

summary: hyungwon’s in a local band and he gets all the girls, including yourself. the thing is, you know he’s shit but you’re just too nice to stop fooling around with him.

warning(s)/kink(s): oral sex, dirty talk, mild degradation, semi-abusive relationship, no strings attached relationship, basically hyungwon is an ass and he’s not afraid to show it don’t say i didn’t warn you

a/n: this is my entry/participation for mxwriter’s songfic project. the song i semi-quoted and used for inspiration is Pink Guy’s She’s So Nice. let me warn you, it is a very explicit song and i don’t agree with everything he says in it but i like it as a parody/joke song but it truly is really filthy-dirty-terrible and i no way condone the treatment he’s expressing in it but this is all fiction and i mean no harm in listening to it and writing this fic. i’ve sufficiently warned you so don’t come to me bitching about how this triggered you. thank you.

music: pink guy - she’s so nice

masterlist

gif credit

Being nice has its faults.

For starters, it’s how you got where you were right now:

On your knees sucking off the lead bassist and backup singer of the local hit band of your miniscule town.

They were well known in the area, halfway due to the fact that your grand little town’s population is a whopping number of 1,212, allowed just about everyone to see one of their performances at least once in their boring ass lives. It was one of the few highlights in this barren wasteland, you unfortunately had to say.

No one ever really stays here, it’s boring and most kids grow out of its minimal charms well past the time they hit puberty. So it’s no surprise that you only find entertainment in a few things; one of which was music so you always attended every show the group, No Mercy, performed. You were a known “groupie” of the band, along with the lead rapper’s girlfriend and the lead singer’s little brother.

The other?

Well, it was exactly what you were doing.

No better way to kill time than to fool around, right?

Hyungwon tugged at your hair, making you pull off him completely. He forced you to look up at him, lips slick and shiny in the low lights from being backstage. He smirked, loving how debauched you looked and he made quick remedy of his lapse in action by reattaching your mouth to his length. As your lips slid lower he groaned, letting his head roll back and fingers card into your hair deeper, keeping you at his base for a couple of seconds. While it burned your lungs due to the lack of airflow getting to you, it was Hyungwon’s favorite so you braced yourself to put up with it.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Hyungwon drawled, easily aroused from just the sight of you on your knees, let alone with his entire dick inside your velvet-hot mouth. “Mmm, never met such a nice girl before…”

You see, Hyungwon wasn’t from this town originally.

He’d grown up in the big city, somewhere far away where movie stars and Broadway singers were born; nothing like the sad sack that was your own hometown. He came here his freshman year of high school because of his parents, something about his father getting the unfortunate transfer to this town. So he made due with what cards he was dealt, having been born with the blessing of a pretty face and a sharp enough tongue to keep himself afloat among the bullies and predators alike.

Luckily for his (current) bandmates, he had a knack for music so he was quickly welcomed by the young and hormonal teens that were the origins of No Mercy. Gunhee had thought Hyungwon was only a pretty face but Kihyun was sure they could make use of him, even if that was all he could bring to the table. Turns out they lucked out when Hyungwon got his hands on his uncle’s old bass and revealed what his nimble hands, elephant memory and innate ability to catch on quickly could manage.

He was secured a spot in the “exclusive” band that was guaranteed to get him some serious pussy. Their words, not yours.

They weren’t wrong though.

Being in the band, like you said, was a highlight. It meant you were special; different. Girls wanted that small sense of importance of going out or fucking a celebrity, albeit a local one. Anything to get a spark of adventure from an otherwise drab lifestyle.

These guys were the ones dads warned their daughters about, the ones that other guys fantasized being. In this town, they were the guys that trashed hotel rooms and had their faces on the news more times than you could count.

In this town, that counted for something.

“So fuckin’ nice, let me use you all I want,” Hyungwon continued, hips pumping forward in their own rhythm, slightly erratic and off-tempo which wasn’t usual for the otherwise musical male. He was probably close and you thought about pulling off and finishing him with your hand. But he had a thing for facials and you knew that’d be too damning since there was no way you’d get it all off before needed to head to a restroom to properly clean it off.

So you just sucked hard, brought your other hand up to rub his balls until you felt them tighten up and his fingers followed suit, keeping an iron grip in your hair as he emptied himself into your throat. It was slick and you nearly choked on it but you breathed through your nose and waited for the burn to die down before swallowing. Hyungwon groaned once more, a little too loud for your tastes, before finally letting go of you and you nearly fell back on your haunches from the recoil as his grip loosened.

He barely gave you enough time to swallow and wipe the excess spit and come around your mouth with the back of your hand by the time he was already zipped back up in his pants.

“Sweetheart, you’re the best stress reliever, you know that? Gotta head on stage now though, don’t wait up.” He was already up and out the door and you meekly waved goodbye, a gesture he’d probably never return.

You were just too nice to do anything or say anything about it. So that’s how it worked between you two. He’d want you to suck his dick or a quick fuck in the closest janitor’s closet you could find before a gig. And you’d let him. Every damn time.

○ ◐ ●

“Wasn’t that just incredible?” Eunwoo began, her eyes lit up like Christmas lights that were strung up too soon in the excitement of the now-tainted holiday. “It has to be one of their best shows! I can’t believe Kihyun and Wonho kissed onstage! We knew they had to be dating, they can’t deny it now!” Not like they were hiding it in the first place, they were practically giving people mono just from staring at their blatant PDA.

You nodded and let Eunwoo have her fun, knowing she was one of those girls that glamorized everything No Mercy did, whether it was good or bad or illegal or just downright wrong. She still can’t believe you’ve had Hyungwon inside you on multiple occasions, though she always seems to phrase it as if you two were some thing. As if it was more than just quick fucks on Monday mornings or him needing to taste you after fucking some brainless chick at an after party.

She had been so sure that Hyungwon looked at you during one of their more sensual songs, the slow lick of his bass making tingles rise up your spine as you watched what his deft fingers were capable of; more than just playing a bass, that’s for sure. But Hyungwon was definitely not looking at you, his eyes were on the girl who just turned 18 and was celebrating her birthday at this club, barely there tits popping out of her three-sizes-too-tight dress and making Hyungwon feel like he was a freshman all over again.

You knew you’d never get anything real out of Hyungwon, not like it’s something to be desired anyways. He’s a nobody when you get down to it, a one-hit-wonder in the industry of music. He’d probably never get out of this wormhole now, while you at least had a semblance of a chance to escape. He’d stay here and age terribly and watch as some new youngsters come in and steal his legacy and probably his bass too because no doubt they’ll be little criminals like themselves.

That’s the only way you can get through all this torture, you just had to convince yourself that you’ll get out eventually and he’ll just be a stamp in your passport; long forgotten and worn down by the time you actually do remember to look back at it.

Sighing, you let her believe whatever the fuck she wants as you downed the rest of your lukewarm beer, ignoring the disgusting taste that resembles the bitterness of your own apathy and the dewy condensation that clung to your fingertips.

○ ◐ ●

You were backstage, as usual, and the two main singers were already up to bat with their excessive displays of affection.

“Ki, could you at least wait until the rest of us leave before you shove your tongue down Hoseok’s throat?” You groaned as you literally watched their mouths break with a line of saliva between their lips, something straight out of a B-list porno or some shitty yaoi anime.

“Y/N, you need to get some dick man. Hyungwon might be available after he finishes giving that birthday girl her gift,” Kihyun joked, trying to give you a sly smile but getting intercepted by a sharp jab of Hoseok’s elbow against his ribcage.

“Don’t listen to him. I heard the bartender here is actually a pretty cool guy, if you wanna go see him?” Hoseok sweetly pieced his words together carefully, knowing he was already treading on a sensitive topic that his boyfriend so barbarically threw himself into. Hoseok hated what you got up to with Hyungwon, because he knew it was pointless; a hollow relationship at best.

Give it to Hoseok to always look out for you, like an older brother you never asked for but are happy to have been graced with anyways. You thanked him and allowed them to get back to their dirty antics while you scouted out this so-called cool bartender.

Seeing him still stationed at the bar, you perched upon the stool furthest from the stage, where a little light made you less washed out and the sounds of Kihyun and Hoseok making out were less audible.

Up strolled the bartender, right on cue, with a soft smile and warm brown eyes. When he grinned, little dimples toyed on his cheeks and you fought the urge to dip your digits into them just to see if they were as deep as they looked.

“Hey there gorgeous, what’re you craving?” His name tag read ‘Namjoon’ and you met his smile with your own, the feeling of the edges of your mouth tipping up feeling foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’d been so long since you’d smiled so grand, so genuinely.

This was what nice felt like.

“Well, I’m feeling particularly thirsty, so… maybe you?” You giggled—you never giggle, what was happening?—and Namjoon mirrored it with his own small laugh, something that was a lot higher-pitched and cuter than you would’ve pegged for such a strapping man like himself. It was fitting though, how warm his laugh sprouted from him, like he laughs every day, like clockwork; the sun coming up and descending with his chuckles. You wished you could be that happy.

“That was smooth, I’ll give you that. A round on me?” Namjoon offered, already holding up the bottle of brown liquor that you’re sure is either cinnamon or vanilla laced, the smell already so strong from where he held the bottle upright. You nodded and let the amber liquid fill the small glass he had in his other hand, momentarily letting your fingers graze his own when he handed it over.

“I’m not actually supposed to drink on the job, but I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like yourself to be drinking all by herself so,” He poured himself a glass and raised it to signal a toast, the sound of your glasses clinking resounding in your ears. It felt like New Year’s Eve, the impending countdown making you itch to reach over and kiss the closest person next to you. Which happened to be Namjoon, what a coincidence.

A few more drinks in, and you two were bantering like nothing. It turns out Namjoon is not only a great conversationalist, but he also an aspiring musician himself. He likes to listen in on the local talent, thinking about becoming a producer and maybe making songs for them to perform. It was a great dream to pursue, certainly more tasteful than Hyungwon’s own ‘I want to fuck a girl in every venue I ever perform in’ fantasy.

You looked down at your phone and realized that you’d been talking for nearly an hour, the time whirring past so fast because of how easy conversation between the two of you came. You were ready to ask Namjoon the golden question, the whole reason why you approached him in the first place. You leaned forward, letting your biggest puppy dog eyes come into play and you made sure to use your signature move of gently stroking Namjoon’s arm as you spoke.

“So, I was thinking if maybe you and I could—”

“Really Y/N? Already trying to find someone else all because I was busy?” Hyungwon came up from behind you, reaching for the remainder of your drink and downing the rest of it. He slammed the glass down harshly, making you worry that the glass might’ve cracked from the force. You flinched at the sound, Namjoon’s expression molding to one of confusion as his eyes skipped back and forth between Hyungwon and yourself.

“Listen, now you could stick with this chump and he might reward you with whatever shitty tips he made tonight or you could score with a real rock star and actually get to come tonight.” He pursed his lips and tapped his talented but most likely dirty fingers on the countertop of the bar. With one eyebrow cocked, he eyed you up and down before realizing you weren’t making a move to leave with him.

Fuck Hyungwon, you were having a perfectly nice time here with Namjoon. He knew how to respect you and treat you right and make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and—

“I see how it is. Well, in that case,” Hyungwon was clearly unhappy, and it’s because he’s grown up as a spoiled brat. He always got what he wanted, including you. Partly because you were too damn nice to say no and partly because Hyungwon, as much as it pained you to admit, was a pretty good lay. He turned to Namjoon and gave him a sneer. “When you go down on her, tell me how my motherfucking dick tastes.” He chuckled and left without another word, leaving Namjoon gaping from his statement and you flushed out of embarrassment and maybe slight arousal.

It was because your body was nice too, that’s all.

“Man, am I sorry you have to deal with that prick. Just like the rest of them, gets discovered on a minor scale and they still get the biggest heads.” Namjoon reached for your hand and stroked the top with his thumb as he spoke in soft syllables. “Listen, I’d love to take you out sometime. I have to finish my shift and I’m working late tonight but,” He handed you a napkin with his number scrawled on it, just barely legible. “Call me sometime, okay? Don’t let guys like that,” He points his chin in Hyungwon’s direction as he’s seen chasing another skirt. “Get to you.”

You nodded and politely smiled before excusing yourself, heading to the back of the stage where you’d no doubt meet with any of the members that still remained before heading to whatever after party they’ve delegated they’ll appear at.

You’re met with an empty area, the boys already cleared out and having long forgotten you. It had been an hour and you were clearly getting along well with Namjoon, they probably assumed you’d be going home with him or he’d at least give you a ride to your own apartment. The only reason one member remained was because he was too busy fucking some girl in the less-than-hygienic bathroom here at the club.

“Well, well, well. It looks like someone struck out,” Hyungwon drawled from behind you, already snaking his arm around your waist. You tensed for a moment, feeling like prey trapped in the corner as the predator watches hungrily at their dinner helpless and at their disposal. “Guess you’ll have to come with me then.” He murmured into your ear, the feeling of his liquor laced breath warm against the shell of your ear. It wasn’t the warmth you felt with Namjoon, but you slowly began to realize something as Hyungwon led you away.

That kind of warmth doesn’t happen for people like yourself. Because you’re just too nice to give into that selfish feeling.

Looks like Hyungwon gets what he wants, like always.

[blog-researchblog]

A Frame by Frame Look at the Life of an Animator

Casey Stoneback

The Seven Questions

Growing up I’ve been asked what I want to do when I grow up. It’s the age old question many children have been asked growing up: what do you want your career to be? I’ve had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do with my life since I was in high school, but the article “7 Powerful Questions To Find Out What You Want To Do With Your Life,” helped me narrow down the type of life I want to live as an adult, beyond what career I want to have. 

Not all the questions were easy to answer, and some were honestly no help at all, but the first question was very easy to answer. What am I passionate about? The one thing that I’ve been consistently passionate about my entire life is art. I didn’t really consider it as it being a legitimate career until I was in high school, but I have been making art since I was a child. Art is still a very broad field, but I can still easily narrow down what subcategory of art I’m most interested in. I’m interested in the field of animation and/or visual storytelling. Animated TV shows and movies are really important to a lot of people, including myself. I strive to be part of that process and make something that’s important to someone, which answers one of the other questions in the article: What are my goals in life?

One of my main goals related to my career is to do something with art, and more specifically make art that impacts people’s lives. Like I said earlier, I want to use animation and visual storytelling to make that impact. Moving on to smaller life goals, I want to live in a city or very close to a city, because I really want to live in a diverse area. Diversity is really important to me, and living in an urban place will put me in an area with so many people with all different types of backgrounds and stories. Some other goals are wanting to be able to travel a lot, and try working both freelance and for a studio/company just to see what both are like. These are all things I really really want to do, but leaves the question: what don’t I want to do? The last question in the article that I felt was truly insightful and important for me to answer was along those lines. What do I not like to do? I feel like this is really relevant to my career, because I know myself and I know I have zero motivation and interest in things I’m not passionate about. I really could not sustain a career outside of art, I just don’t have the drive for that. Any other field would bore, exhaust, or just plain confuse me. I know I have no choice but to give it my best shot in the animation industry, since that’s what I’m most passionate about. 

With these questions and answers in mind, I wanted to know how attainable they are in the field of work I want to go into. To find out more information, I consulted the Occupational Outlook Handbook.

Outlook Handbook

According to the Occupational Outlook Handbook entitled  “Multimedia Artists and Animators,” a short summary of the field says, “Multimedia artists and animators create images that appear to move and visual effects for various forms of media and entertainment.” The site also listed some specific parts of the field, and stated that most artists in it stay within one certain medium (TV, movies, games, etc). Another thing to note about this career is the work environment. In addition to that, for the most part they work normal hours, but may have to work overtime when deadlines for projects are approaching. Most artists either work in an office, or from home. 

The employment of multimedia artists/animators is expected to grow by 4% between 2018 and 2028, which is the average growth for all careers. This projection is due to the fact that the demand for animation across many platforms including TV, movies, video games, etc. keeps going up and is expected to continue to rise.  To be able to get a job in the field, most jobs require a portfolio to represent the artist’s work (in this case it would be mostly digital pieces), and usually at least a bachelor's degree in some sort of digital art major. Self study is also an important part of this process for artist’s to better themselves and get more experience. The handbook also lists these qualities that are essential to this career: artistic talent, communication skills, computer skills, and creativity. While this information is helpful and insightful, it isn’t very personal. I wanted to know more about the first person point of view as an animator. 

An Animator’s POV

To find out more, I did an interview with my animation professor from last semester, Professor Elizabeth Schnieder. For my first question, I started with asking her what got her interested in animation, since seeing something that inspired me was a big part of me picking this career path. She said she saw the work of William Kentridge as MASS MOCA, and “fell in love with the idea of creating moving artwork.” After looking into his name, he’s an artist that specializes in prints, drawings, and animated films. I found this interesting because this is different to the inspiration I had. She had a more traditional “fine” artist that inspired her, while my inspiration was a cartoon I grew up with.

My next question felt very important to me, since it’s something I struggle with even as a student: How do you avoid burnout? She recommended planning, consistent working every day, and setting goals. She also said stepping away and coming back to look at a project with fresh eyes helped. I also asked what she does on a regular basis, and she said “I always have a cup of coffee every night at 7 pm,” (which made me laugh because I do the same thing), “and sit down to work on my personal animations for two hours at least.” This is a little bit different than what someone actively working for a studio would do, but 2 hours is still a lot of time on top of being a professor.

Another question I asked that felt important to me personally was if she had time to make art for herself, to which she simply said, “I always make time!” I really like this answer because it’s so short and simple, yet so important. I think I’ll be keeping these words in mind for awhile.

I also asked was what she felt  was a major issue in the field today. Her answer was sexism. She ended it on a lighthearted note though, and said she felt optimistic that the next generation behind her will have a more inclusive workplace. She said “I’m excited to see more content from female animators, writers, and directors.” I agree with this because I’m also excited to see what productions from women will come out in the future, and as a woman I hope to be a part of an inclusive production like that someday.

The last question I asked her what current events are related to this field, and I found her answer interesting and honestly inspiring. She said “the thing about animation is that you can talk about anything and everything, so all current events can inspire your stories and content.” This precise thing is one of the reasons I’m interested in animation in the first place. I want to tell stories that are important to the world, that will make a difference in someone’s life. 

A Current Event Across the World

While I felt this interview was extremely insightful, I still wanted to know more about what’s going on in the field. To see what’s going on in the world of animation, I looked for a current event within the field. One subject that kept popping up no matter what I searched was the poor working conditions and poor pay for animators in Japan’s animation industry. The article I found to be the most useful was Younger Animators Still Struggling Amid Anime Boom. This article goes over the research done by the Japan Animation Creators Association (JAniCA), which is a non-profit organization that documents and hopes to improve the working conditions in the anime industry. It also goes over some of the thoughts and solutions that Yasuhiro Irie, the Representative Director of JAniCA and an anime director himself, and Daisuke Okeda, the auditor and lawyer of JAniCA.

As the anime industry gets bigger, the profits seem to only be benefiting middle aged veteran animators, and newer/younger animators are not also being properly compensated. Workers have faced unpaid overtime, and some have even been hospitalized from being overworked. 

Animators in Japan can usually be broken down into two categories: people that draw genga and dōga. Genga are the keyframe in an animation (the most important frames in a story), and dōga are the frames in between keyframes to make an animation more smooth and fluid. Dōga work is given to newcomers, and as they improve and gain experience, they should move up to working on genga. The current issue with this system, is that the newer animators may quit before getting to move up in the industry simply because they don’t make enough money to survive. According to the most recent JAniCA report, the average monthly income for animators between the age of 20-24 is only ¥128,000 (1,168.47 US dollars). 

In the article, Irie and Okeda gave their thoughts on possible solutions to solve this problem. One of their ideas was for studios to negotiate with more sponsors in order to get the money to pay animators properly. Here’s how they explained it:

“Companies should also look outside Japan, to sponsors like Netflix or those in China, he adds. It’s still too early to tell whether such nontraditional sponsors will truly make a difference, says Okeda, but he notes that since last year, when multiple animation companies began working with firms like Netflix and Amazon, ‘many titles with good budgets have emerged. In terms of A-tier titles, the average budget has increased by over 30 percent.’”

One of their other ideas was more government assistance within the field. They argue that while it’s not huge, since anime is consumed globally it does bring in a significant amount of money into the country, so the industry should be compensated for that. Another solution in addition to that is moving studios outside of Tokyo where the cost of living is lower. Two successful examples of this are Kyoto Animation, located in Kyoto, and P.A. Works, located in Tomoya. While it took years for the studios to reach the successfulness they’re at now, Irie says that “‘if new studios learn from such examples, they may be able to get a head start and improve more quickly.’” 

One last solution is that a might help, but unions are usually formed to negotiate with one big cooperation, and in the case of anime, it’s broken up into many smaller production companies. These are just a couple ideas to solve the issue of animators being underpaid, because there's no one single way to solve it with the snap of a finger. Irie believes that hopefully, things will change soon since more and more headlines about the poor working conditions animators work in are being published. Hopefully these issues being brought to light will push companies to change and improve.

The reason I picked this article in the first place is when I was looking for articles about news in the animation industry, the poor working conditions and pay in Japan specifically were what almost every search result was about. I’ve also heard about this problem before, so I wanted to learn more about it anyways. One reason I picked this article specifically, is because I know of one of the studios mentioned, Kyoto Animation. Not only have I seen some of the things they’ve produced, but about a month after the article was published, which was only less than a year ago, it was all over the news and internet that Kyoto Animation went through a huge deadly arson attack (due to the studio’s success, it was luckily able to recover through donations and is still open). 

I feel as if this article is relevant to the career I’m going to into, because while it’s not about America and it’s highly unlikely I’d move to Japan to become an animator, it’s still a relevant story in the world of animation. It’s important to know what’s going on in your field of work, even in different countries. I already had a vague understanding of the issues in the anime industry, but from this article I’ve learned the specifics of the issue. I had no idea the pay there was that low. What I’d still like to know is how the working conditions in Japan compare to working conditions in America (within animation). I’m curious to know if American animators are also underpaid, even if it’s not to the extreme that Japan is going through right now. 

[geeksfromfuture-blog]

Can Technology Save Actors?

How can technology save the career of an actor or actress? It is possible if the technology is applied correctly. But if not, a career as an actor or actress might not be saved at all. Actors and actresses often find themselves in a downward spiral. Their pay is low and they often have to give up acting as a career. At the same time, there are new media tools, which can also affect their livelihood. The movies have been making some changes. Gone are the old favorites like Rocky, The Dark Knight and The Matrix. These movies used to lure younger people and they make a big difference in a person's life. If one of these movie stars is to be revived and make it big, he or she needs the backing of an established studio. In the old days, even if a movie star succeeded, his or her name would remain on a poster and there would not be an easy way to sell them. However, today with the internet, these movies can be made for less and with a higher budget. New technologies in drama schools can also help. They can teach aspiring actors and actresses how to use these computers properly and also how to create fan clubs. By fan clubs, I mean a group of people who are interested in watching a particular star's work. This is useful for an actor or actress because a fan club can help her or him get more exposure in the public eye. There are several other ways to gain exposure. You can always go on stage and do live readings and performances. A professional actor can also start a website where he can interact with the audience and help them learn what he is talking about. By interacting with fans, he or she can present himself in a better light. In fact, there are a lot of people who just like to talk about something and then ask for a question or comment. So, by chatting online with them, an actor or actress can give an insight into his or her personality. A good website will also help you gain more exposure by providing you with information about your career at home. This will also allow you to connect with others and build relationships. At the same time, this will allow you to explore your talent and find out what you like about performing and interacting with other people. An actor or actress should be able to find out where her talents lie and where they can be used. No one can force you to stay where you are but at the same time, you should be able to find out where you belong. If you think you can be successful in the industry, you must find out what you really like and what you enjoy doing. Nowadays, everything is different and the old way of doing things has been forgotten. Once, people used to rely on acting schools or old books to help them find their career. Today, we are surrounded by information that helps us find our careers and dreams. If you think that new technology can help you save your career as an actor or actress, think again. Just because something is new does not mean that it is right for you. So, before you use a new technology to make a fortune, do some research first.

Will Technology Save Actors?

While we know that technological advancement is helping us with productivity, what is the future of acting and entertainment? The prospect of not having to physically get dressed or perform daily routines is exciting. But how will that affect the kind of acting that is required? Will technology save actors? We are used to the fact that our fave movie theater seats are actually in theaters. We drive in, sit and wait in front of a flat screen TV set. We listen to what the cast and crew say as they all step onto the stage, point their phones at us and most importantly show off their best lamer moments. But what if we could get back to watching the action in front of a big screen LCD TV? What if the audience really had the chance to see the talent on the screen instead of us? While some studios are jumping on the bandwagon with big screens in their movie theaters and big TV sets in their homes, not all TV shows and movies have these amenities. Some movies are shown at small theaters, while some are shown at the theaters. What if you could watch TV shows and movies the way you would have watched them just a few years ago, if not longer? What if you could actually interact with the talented people who were working so hard for hours each day? You might think that theaters would have the upper hand in this battle, but there is technology being created that will allow you to interact with the actors that you are watching. In fact, in this new era of acting as entertainment, you can view the talent interact with the viewer. You will be able to check out what the actresses are doing, and you will even be able to see the reactions of the fans. This is definitely going to help with quality acting, but there are many benefits of this new era of acting as entertainment. With the move towards interaction, we will even be able to get to know our favorite celebrities better, without having to hang out with them and give them a hug. While the hug and the handshake are popular, the real chance to get to know a celebrity has been lost in the shuffle. With interacting, you will get to know a person in their own individual way. This new trend in technology will also allow for some great things in the entertainment industry. Imagine being able to tune into your favorite actor's interview after they have done a live interview. Or if you are a fan of a music group, you will be able to see what they are doing live as they play on stage. These new eras in the entertainment industry will allow the performer to interact with their fans, and vice versa. You will get to see your favorite stars interact live, and all you will have to do is pay a small fee to get the opportunity. With technology such as this, we will truly be able to have more interaction with the artists on the screen. It will open up all kinds of possibilities for TV and movies. Once you can see an actor interacts with his or her fans interact with them, you can imagine how digital technology can also improve the acting. Think about how much better you would be able to get the words out of your mouth. Instead of just seeing a beautiful face or body and acting like it was the greatest performance of his or her life, you will be able to get real feelings and reactions out of actors as they perform. And with technology such as that, you can also expect a real acting style. You will not have to go from picture to picture, or to the lip sync for you to get real acting style in your favorite actors. For many people, watching or reading a written story, no matter how entertaining the book is, can be boring. Watching an actor perform is another matter entirely. No longer are you stuck being glued to the TV with a quiet barf bag, waiting for your favorite star to pop out and say something, we can be able to see the talents on the big screen and, in some cases, hear them at the same time. Not only can you experience a very good acting from your favorite actor, but now you can actually enjoy watching the performance live as well. along with them.

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[kaliiwashere]

Marvel Movies

Need to purchase X-Men t-shirts online? Whether or not you could have a love for The Avengers, Incredible 4, Thor, or X-Men there are lots or t-shirts and other merchandise to own. My childhood included a love for 60s and 70s Marvel and DC comics, and my ability to draw originates partly from finding out the tales I learn in those days. We worked for a year together on the piece to plan and draw it. Toy corporations like Hasbro and Kenner used to supply hundreds of Batman motion figure than is launched yearly with some variation in it. Transformers 2, the science-fiction film is the latest sensation, and is probably the most awaited film of the year. Let's take the movie Avatar for instance. From time to time I went back to the sport to take a couple of extra screenshots to increase a plot. Inside a few minutes, I started making comedian strips. Unlike his other comic strips, in Battling Boy, the hero is a child, who is on a mission to save lots of town.

In truth, the other sequence of battling boy grew to become common. To conclude on this topic, I think it's an awesome idea to provide our children the funny comics created way-back-when, comics out of your and my childhood. To learn a story in adventurous manner is kind of exciting for all the children. You may have to beat the constraints of speech bubbles and the issue of telling a story frame by body. Admit it you've gotten! I’m positive you will have heard this popular on-line retailer. Since Children's Graphic Novels are actually just an outdated idea with a fancy new name, why shouldn't you discover taking outdated successful comicbook ideas and reinventing them for a new era? The idea was to convey the same which means with words that I urged by colours, textures and images. Well-liked Online Comics solidify a that means of a phrase as a result of footage support meaning to words. The nomination was a major achievement for an artist who had - quite actually -started out small, drawing Submit-it note sized comics and hiding them in different people’s work in bookshops. The first comedian strips appeared in Germany in 1865. It was about two boys who are getting punished for at all times moving into mischief.

Furthermore, if we are trustworthy with ourselves, we all know that a lot of mischief is downright humorous. Why are previous coins worth greater than today's coins? Complete collections will fetch a lot greater than random particular person comics. Our aim is to give our readers a good piece of entertaining and educational comics on which will grow up not one among the future generations. These blockbuster motion pictures plays a very important function within the comeback of comics. Individuals who wish to cherish their childhood recollections with the comics; they will easily discover cheap comics to start their comedian collection. In today of "I would like the newest and newest," we actually find that a few of the true treasures are things of outdated. Comedian books are detailed stories. Aside from conventions, yard sales and used guide shops will also be extremely value effective sources for collectible comedian books. A comedian e book adaption as well as a novel publication is being accomplished for the movie's promotion. That assumption is unsuitable and is an insult to the complete comedian e-book group.

These comedian guides give you the type of data you need like the Disney Mulan 2020 place to get the rare and beneficial comics and where you may get first issue comics as nicely as the back problem ones as well. By selling and buying and selling comics you will be there were the artwork work is most loved and valued. Moreover, that is where you get the meet fellow fans and catch up on the latest in the comic books world; data that can show invaluable. Some comic books editions are collector's objects and if preserved in mint high quality condition. Books are restricted as a result of the reader can not physically see what the writer envisions. Are these behaviors to be condoned? Eyes turn into circles or dots, mouths are diminished to curved traces, and noses or ft are triangles. Get the most recent information. Those who already consider extensive abilities of our web site, confess that it is absolutely the most convenient and straightforward method to be in contact with the latest improvements of the world of comics.

Properly aware of the advantages that come from studying comics. Which Marvel comics do you have to read earlier than (or after) Captain Marvel? Repetition. Go back to your daily newspaper and look at the comics’ web page. The cartoonist is utilizing repetition to establish the character. Due to this fact, we could say that it has nothing to do with a changing tendencies, whatever is new and trendy, photo to pop art print remains in the midst of its known usability in discipline of artwork. I looked, and there earlier than me was a pale horse! There actually is something for everybody. Cosplay additionally means costume play and the fans usually come to the comic conventions dressed in costumes. Eight delectable Expansions that adopted added to the joy of the game play. Then by all means, use it. Through the use of these exaggerations, it doesn’t matter what other particulars I embody. The possessed doll first hit the screens in the 1988 horror basic 'Child's Play'. Corey Haim, the lead of the unique horror film, and Corey Feldman, the 2 Coreys, reprise their original roles. Nonetheless, in 2003 Hasbro would relinquish management to Batman's rights to Mattel. You also get preferential treatment in some cases and entry to particular events and performances. A Possible Alternate Future to the Comic Book Industry

It may haven't been planned quite a few this week's comics occur to take care of fathers and sons. That might not sound strange however when you think about classic comics there are few prominent father figures. Some of the most prominent super heroes do not have dads. Superman's father is dead, ditto for Batman, Uncle Ben could be the closest thing with a dad Peter Parker ever had and that we are all aware so what happened to him. I'm not even going to go near Silk Spectre's daddy issues. Is there an underlying reasons why most superheroes will also be orphans? Superhero costumes are as countless because amount of superheroes themselves. However, some are definitely more convenient than these. For example, an outfit for Kratos, the flesh-rendering character through the iconic game God of War, is certainly easier to dress up than the Mjolnir suits from Halo, or perhaps the Iron Man suit. The former only mandates that you have very good condition, and have sufficiently huge amounts of body paint available. Meanwhile, an intricate Iron Man suit doesn't only set you back several hundred, otherwise several thousand dollars, it is usually extremely bothersome to put on and remove.

Immediately after newspaper comic strips like Mutt and Jeff was reprinted as books and the publishers did start to experiment with periodic books, which were sold for 10 cents with the newsstands. The pre-superhero comic strips was mainly pulp stories of detectives, adventure, criminals and exotic travel. The very first costumed hero ended up The Phantom, which became available in 1936 wearing black mask plus a purple costume.

Nor is independent comics only for novices. Longtime creators including Mark Waid and Paolo Rivera supply before year announced their want to start working on creator-owned titles, though not every one of them will do independent work exclusively. The independent world allows all creators the choice to profit or fail using their characters. Robert Kirkman believes the longer term is based on some sort of where comic strip creators utilize the Big Two being a professional step, a learning center to practice their talent before switching towards the (possibly) more profitable opportunities in neuro-scientific independent comics owned by creators. As the indie market grows, we are able to determine if his vision becomes the industry standard. 22. Black Bolt: One from the strongest beings in the Marvel Universe and yet he never uses his true power for concern with the destruction it could unleash. The merest whisper from Black Bolt could level a mountain therefore the ruler in the Inhumans has imposed upon himself a moratorium on speaking. Black Bolt still gets angry. The reader is aware that solutions that he wants to yell but he doesn't. The self-control that it takes for Black Bolt to stay silent only makes him seem more noble