#the settings on the screen are way more glamorous and easy than what she's living now

[soupbabe]

What does Maggie lie about most?

I think Maggie will always be delusional about the whole killing and town of wax thing. Lil bit of cognitive dissonance here n there.

She absolutely knows what's going on is wrong, she tries to distance herself from it when it's happening, but also she'll always be there to display and make costumes for the victims and she has killed at least 3 people in her lifetime. Despite what she thinks, she literally cannot act as if she's still a good person and she can still be normal when she's a serial killer just like the rest of her family.

I'm planning a lil extra part of the Silver Lining series I got going on and I think it can delve a bit into this more 👀👀

[seasaltmemories]

The Weight of Living

Rating: T

Summary: Somewhere at sometime, Misty had forgotten just how much work it took to stay alive

~

Living wasn’t quite as easy as Misty remembered.

As strange as it had felt when Ccarayhua first came to rest in the back of her mind, its absence lingered with her more than its presence ever did. Existing as a dark signer had been like living in a dream. There hadn’t been any need to worry about the eating or maintaining any other bodily functions. Every possible distraction could be set aside in order to drown in her hatred to the fullest.

In contrast, the second she awoke without that dark sigil, all Misty could focus on was the incredible effort it took to simply blink. Every beat of her heart fell like a terrible crash against her ears drum, and her lungs ached from the sheer strain of inhaling and then exhaling in such quick succession. Somewhere at sometime, she had forgotten just how much work it took to stay alive.

It was hard to tell if she was the only one to make such a mistake. After all, didn’t every good parasite try to stay undetected as long as possible? If she had noticed Ccarayhua’s sway then perhaps she would have not chosen such a dark path. Still, shame wormed its way through her heart. She didn’t know it was possible for it to feel both so overwhelmed yet empty at the same time.

So rather than face it, Misty ran away. Of course she wasn’t sure if anyone else realized what she was doing. She did make it her mission to put on her best smile, find the most glamorous location, and send all the most sickening of postcards she could find. Hitting her best angles was second nature by now. There were no responsibilities to hold her down. When in a crowd, she didn’t have to consider if she had sacrificed any of them to feed Ccaryhua. For the first time in a long time, she could be the person she was before Toby was taken away from her.

She didn’t realize it was still running though until one night she found herself drunk at some hidden, hole-in-the-wall club. The dance floor was so tiny that she found herself packed like a sardine in all directions. As the bass pounded and their bodies writhed in time, a thought came to her with startling clarity.

 You’ve lived three lives and yet still nobody would notice if you disappeared.

One minute later she was in the bathroom, splashing water in her face. Ten minutes later she was hailing a cab. Half an hour later she was sprawled across her hotel bed. Five hours later she watched the night sky bleed into dawn.

 You’ve lived three lives and yet still nobody would notice if you disappeared.

Even now, Misty couldn’t deny the truth.

Mutely, she reached for her phone. There had to be somewhere else she could escape to. Somewhere more unfamiliar, farther. However, before she could pull up flight times, a notification jingled across her screen. Without even really considering where it might take her, she clicked it.

“So, so, sorry for taking so long to check in on you! I didn’t have your phone saved, and so I had to do some digging to find this email address. Sorry if that was a bit much, but I figured it would be better to at least say something than--” The email rambled on, its writer’s identity still unclear. Frustrated, Misty scrolled down to the bottom to find one “Carly Nagisa - Neo Domino News” in the signature.

Over-sized glasses and a goofy grin flashed before Misty’s eyes, yet recognition only made the email stranger. Without her, Carly never would have had to be dragged into all the Dark Signer business.

On impulse, she typed up an angry reply. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d lose this email and forget about me.”

She spent the rest of the day, wallowing in a mixture of self-pity and rage. Beyond all the swirling emotions kicked up by the email though, an older, rawer wound pulsed in time.

Toby...knowing his murderer was six feet in the ground didn’t make his absence any easier to bear.

A ring cut out through the grief. At some point the sky had darken back to its night-time black, shrouding the entire room in darkness again. The only source of light came from her phone lighting up with another emotion.

 “If you don’t want to be in contact, then this will be my last email. I’m so sorry if I was a burden to you. I’m always asking too much of others. Maybe I read too much into that night. You shouldn’t have to be responsible for me.”

Confusion bubbled to the surface. She tried sifting through her memories for what Carly could possibly be referring to but kept coming up blank. Frustrated, Misty pulled up the first email and read through it again.

 “I’ve been having these nightmares again. I tried to talk about it with my friends, but as nice as they are, it’s clear they don’t understand. It’s different when you’re the one that hurt others.”

Nightmares, there had been one night, back before she fully accepted the role, that Misty had found her wandering their base. Carl had been obviously frazzled, so rather than question things, Misty had fed her some food and stayed with her until she had fallen back asleep. Even if neither action were necessary, Misty had though the routine would have at least brought some comfort.

She hadn’t thought much of the gesture. If anything, now it seemed as just another sign manipulation and deceit. But before she could slide down another rabbit-hole of rationalization and excuses, she couldn’t but remember that self-loathing could sometimes be a form of narcissism.

Misty sighed and fell back against the bed. No matter how highly Carly spoke of her, it was hard to view herself as anything but a burden herself. Still, those elder sister instincts tugged at her heartstrings. At the very least, Carly deserved an answer of sorts.

 “I don’t know if I can help you, but please don’t think of yourself as a burden. If there’s something you feel like you can’t bring to others, then I will be there to listen.”

She must have fallen asleep not long after; even if she hadn’t done anything all day, most humans needed to sleep after being awake for over twenty-four hours. When she woke up next, it looked to be mid-morning. Considering she probably hadn’t showered in twice as long, Misty probably should have bolted straight for the bathroom. But despite herself, she reached out and pulled up her email again.

“Alright, but only if you let me lend an ear as well! Friends should be able to depend upon each other. Besides, I’d love to hear about how Paris has been!” There were plenty of sparkly and cute emojis to accompany the message, but that didn’t stop the pit of anxiety building in Misty’s stomach. For all her time away from Neo Domino, she couldn’t recall a single thing of note she had done besides feel sorry for herself.

This means you’re gonna have to actually get out there an enjoy yourself

As much as Misty wanted to find an excuse not to leave, that night together came back to her When she remembered how peaceful Carly had looked while asleep, heat rushed to her face.

 I can’t make her carry those feelings too. Not now.

Still as Misty washed up and tried to plan out a proper gossip-worthy itinerary, she couldn’t help but consider how she wanted to one day be a reason for Carly’s happiness.

A.N. This fic was for Yugioh Mini Exchange. I had some nasty writer's block and ended up drifting a bit from the prompt I was given, but I hope I still managed to do these ladies justice

[greaterawarness]

Brothers Ch. 6 "Retired Commander and Captain"

(A slow morning for Cody and Rex.)

Cody was up by 0600 like most mornings. When he was in the army, he would consider 0600 sleeping in. He supposes he’s gone a little soft since being out. His morning routine was nothing glamorous. He normally showers but today he’s skipped that step, shaves, spends a small amount of time making sure his hair is in order, then dresses in sensible clothing. Today he plans on going for a run, so he wears breathable workout clothes.

“What are you doing? Come back to bed…” A sleepy voice calls. Cody walks out of the bathroom and leans against the doorway with a smile. Obi Wan is turned on his side with their red sheets resting at his waist. His usual neat and tidy hair now sticks in every direction.

“Can’t. Promised Rex I’d kidnap him for a run.” He walks over to sit on the bed. Obi Wan reaches out to gently touch Cody’s wrist. Cody leans forward planting a gentle kiss on Obi Wan’s forehead. “Go back to sleep. I should be back before you finish getting ready.”

Obi Wan grabs his shirt when he starts to pull away. He presses his lips to Cody’s before falling back on his pillow and rolling to his side of the bed.

“Very well. Run an extra mile for me.” He yawns while pulling the sheets up to his shoulders.

“Always do.” Cody pushes himself off the bed. Before leaving their room, he walks to his closet out of habit. He checks on his Mandalorian armor making sure it was still in tip top shape as if it would change from his last inspection before bed. With there being no changes, he leaves their room.

Cody and Obi Wan live in a luxurious spacious apartment. Only riveled by Padme’s and Skywalker’s. He walks across their pristine white marble floor to their white clean kitchen. Everything is sleek and modern just how they liked it. After leaving the Jedi Order they both developed a certain taste for things. Ahsoka had called it being boujee. Whatever the hell that means. He starts the caf so it will be ready when Obi Wan wakes and for when he gets back from his run. He leaves their apartment and makes his way down to the lobby.

“Morning Wooley.” Cody says as he passes his brother behind the main desk. After Obi Wan purchased this building, he gave a few jobs to the 212th. They’re simple jobs but his men seem to enjoy it. It doesn’t hurt that they all congregate in the speakeasy in the back. Easy to make 212th meetings if you work in the building.

“Early as ever Sir. Want me to pull your speeder around?” He asks.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just call a cab.” Cody says. When he’s on the street he hails the cab while taking in the sun’s rays. Cody always loved Coruscant in the morning. Wasn’t as busy as during the day or rowdy like at night. Though, things definitely got more interesting when the sun went down. Cody sits in the back of the cab admiring the buildings as they passed. Rex didn’t live to far and he could have walked it but knowing Rex he only has a finite time to reach him before the man collapses back into deep sleep. When the cab parks in front of Rex’s building, Cody slips out and pays the man. Before walking inside, he can’t help but glance at Skywalkers building only a block further down. Most people in this area are Senators or work in high-ranking positions. Not even on the handsome funds that Cody and Obi Wan pull in from the Jinn clan could they afford a place in this area.

Cody walks through the lobby and nods at the stern man behind the front desk. He meets his eyes before looking back to his screen. Cody punches in the code that grants access to the lift and rides it up to Rex’s floor. When he approaches Rex’s front door, he can already hear the madness on the other side. Cody grins before knocking. After a few moments the door opens when a blue twi’lek girl appears.

“Good morning Luna. I’ve come to kidnap your father.” Cody says. The teenager turns her face inside.

“Dad! Uncle Cody’s here!” She yells. She steps aside so Cody can walk in. While Obi Wan and Cody preferred a modern home that mostly consists of white marble and sleek finishes, Rex liked a more rustic feel. While the wall facing outward to the city is made of almost entirely of glass the other walls are exposed brick with exposed wood beams and columns. His floors, when not covered in scattered toys or clothes, are a light hardwood. It definitely felt more homy then Cody’s.

“You off to school?” Cody asks when the door shuts behind him.

“Yeah, just waiting on the gremlin to get ready.” She says, crossing her arms.

“That’s not a nice thing to call your brother.” Cody eyes her.

“Sorry,” She nods. “I meant to say bantha.”

Cody has to hold back a laugh. Luna slides across the floor in her long school socks to retrieve her datapad. Cody almost jumps when a woman rushes down the stairs holding a human toddler in her arms. Her blonde curly hair bounces with every jerk of her head. Cody crosses his arms with a smile waiting Morrigan to notice him. Her frantic busy eyes scan the kitchen island that is cluttered in papers, cups, and toys.

“My keys… where are my keys?” She asks with her one free hand held out frustratedly. Cody takes this time to walk forward. She stares at him slightly taken off guard before calming back down.

“I believe,” Cody starts while reaching for the thing in the toddler’s hands. “I’ve found them.”

Morrigan closes her eyes relieved.

“Thank you, Cody.” She says placing a hand on his shoulder. “You must be here for Rex.”

“Yes, I had planned on kidnapping him.” Cody explains. He leans against the messy kitchen island. She gives a sarcastic eyeroll.

“Good luck. I’m afraid my nine year old has beaten you to it.” She walks over to her bag to rummage through it. As if speaking his name summoned him, Rex walks down the stairs with his son slung over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to go!” Bjorn yells but shows no real struggle. Rex lets out long sigh.

“I know,” He says while setting the boy down. Bjorn’s a spitting image of his father. Well, Cody guessed all clones really, but he was Rex’s boy through and through. “But you have to. Otherwise, mum and I are going to go to prison!”

The boy rolls his eyes. He tries to walk away but is stopped by Rex’s hand. Rex pulls out a pair of glasses and puts them on Bjorn’s face.

“But…”

“No buts. You’re wearing them.” Rex waves a finger at the boy with a stern eye. Bjorn says nothing while grabbing his school bag and walks over to his eldest sister.

“Be safe! Don’t take your eyes off each other!” Morrigan calls when the two eldest children walk towards the front door.

“We know!” They yell back before closing the door behind them. With two out of the three kids gone the adults took this moment to breathe. Rex looks to Cody for the first time.

“Sorry that you had to walk in on our hectic mornings.” Rex says looking more tired than he did when they left to go home last night.

“Don’t worry about it. Love any chance I get to see my favorite nieces and nephew.” Cody says. Morrigan shifts her daughter while slinging her bag over her other shoulder.

“Well, I’m off to work. I’m running late as it is. Cody, try not to kill my husband. I do enjoy his company.” She says walking past him. She walks for the door making Rex chuckle.

“Love?” Rex calls.

“Yes?” She turns back around.

“I’m not sure how your meeting is going to go while holding Serin.” Rex crosses his arms. Morrigan pauses realizing her daughter is still in her arms. She shuffles over and hands her to Rex before giving him a quick kiss and rushing for the door. Rex calls out “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Morrigan responds by letting out a loud and sarcastic laugh while running out the door. Rex shakes his head while smiling at Serin who is content just sitting in Rex’s arms.

“If its just you and Serin we can go for a run another day?” Cody offers. Rex lets out a tired sigh.

“Nah, we’ll bring her along.”

After getting little Serin situated in a stroller Cody and Rex do a short stretch in front of Rex’s building. After they feel warmed up, they start jogging. When Cody goes for a run with Obi Wan they usually start out much faster and go for longer but ever since becoming a dad Rex has lost a bit of his steam. They run a few blocks before stopping at a crosswalk. Rex leans over with his hands on his knees breathing heavily.

“You okay?” Cody raises a brow at him.

“Don’t judge me Cody… I’ve got three kids…” He breathes before straightening up and pushing the stroller as he continues to run. Everything is so different now then it was when they were in the army. Before he and Rex ran a tight ship. Nothing got past them, and they were constantly working to keep their bodies and minds in top physical condition. Now, they’ve learned to take it easy and take things as they come. Not that they’ve gone completely soft. Cody and Rex still pride themselves on their combat skills and marksmanship.

They decide to end their run early when Serin starts to get fussy. They now walk at a comfortable pace after stopping to buy the child a juice box. Cody and Rex drink one of their own.

“So,” Rex says after they toss their drained juice boxes. “What are we going to do about that batch of clones?”

That batch. Cody knew exactly what he was talking about. Cody lets out a sigh through his nose.

“I could use some guys like that. It’s hard to find younger clones so willing to run into battle.” Cody starts.

“True but running headfirst into danger isn’t always a good thing.” Rex says making Cody laugh.

“Ironic coming from you!” Cody says wincing when Rex elbows him.

“All I’m saying is that they seem a little to eager.”

“What do you expect? They’re too young to have seen any battle but to old to not remember life and training on Kamino. They trained for a Republic that already didn’t want them.” Cody snorts. They fall silent for a moment. Memories of the days after the war. When it first ended everyone was so happy. It may have only been one real battle but so many clones and Jedi had died. Everyone celebrated and the clones were seen as heroes. For a time. Then the Jedi who had fought beside so many of the clones turned away from them. Some completely abandoning squads on random planets trying to wrangle up any remaining separatists. The anger from those times still burns in Cody and Rex.

As they contemplated on the past, they can hear the shouting of protests. Cody and Rex exchange looks before continuing on. They find a large crowd surrounding a stage built of crates with a few clones standing on top.

“We fought their war and look how they treat us?” A clone yells. Cody stops to stare at him. He looks familiar. “Clones only earn a small percentage compared to any other species on Coruscant but we far outnumber any other species when it comes to homelessness! We’re denied basic rights!”

Cody is both surprised and pleased to see that the crowd is a good mix of nonclones and clones. Serin starts to get fussy again, so they start to walk on. As they walk away from the rally, they can hear them chanting “We fought your fight now give us rights!”all the way down the block.

They decide to take a rest on a park bench and let Serin stretch her legs.

“That was Slick up there, wasn’t it?” Rex asks. Cody nods. He holds a twig that Serin hands him before she waddles off.

“I just hope he keeps it peaceful.” Cody sighs. Rex lets out a snort.

“He’s not wrong though. Some clones are lucky and get decent jobs and live a normal life. Most aren’t. unless they want to live like us working as bounty hunters and mercenaries. We do okay but this life isn’t for everyone. It’s most certainly not one I want my children.”

Cody looks over at Rex who keeps his eyes on his daughter.

“Bjorn looks just like us. What happens when he’s older and he can’t get a job because his face resembles mine? Serin… well I tell myself she’ll do fine because she’s a girl and she takes after her mother thank the Force. But I do worry about them.” Rex scoops his daughter in his arms and holds her close. She doesn’t appreciate this and squirms out of his arms to continue playing.

“I hate to break this to you Rex old boy, but your son is probably going to become a bounty hunter just because he has your wife’s attitude.” Cody says making Rex laugh.

“Oh, don’t I know it too?” Rex shakes his head. His face settles into a sad smile. “Still… I want him to have a choice.”

Cody lets out a breath while leaning back.

“Then I guess we’ll have to hope Fox and Padme can pull through.” Cody looks up at the sky before staring at Rex when he lets out a pfft.

“Never thought you would be saying that did ya?” Rex snorts making Cody laugh.

“Fuckin’ Fox man… who knew?” Cody shakes his head. When they fall silent again Rex leans on his knees.

“So, what are we going to do about that batch?” Rex asks again. Cody leans his head back with his eyes closed.

“I don’t know…” He groans. “Wolffe has probably already recruited them but… then they have the Force sensitive ones and I’m sure Skywalker will throw a fit if he doesn’t get them.”

“Yeah, probably. He and Ahsoka were fighting about it the other night. But they were drinking so it quickly turned into who’s fault it was who crashed the last ship.” Rex says with his chin perched on his hand.

“… It was Anakin, wasn’t it?”

“It’s always Anakin.” Rex nods making Cody chuckle. They sit in silence again while watching Serin play.

“You don’t think that day we ran into that batch wasn’t a bit…”

“Perfect?” Rex finishes for him. “Yeah. I know.”

“I mean all three of us were recruited for the job and then the batch is there for no apparent reason, and they were carrying blasters which according to our research none of them can afford. Seems like that whole event was planned.” Cody watches Rex carefully. His face is unchanging but deliberately still. “It has her fingerprints all over it.”

“I know.” He says softly.

“That means those boys are probably in over their heads. It might be best if we cut off all ties with them. Save ourselves a headache.” Cody says aware of how stiff Rex is next to him. It’s so apparent that Serin walks over to try and mess with his face. He loosens up so not to bother her.

“I’ll deal with it, Cody.” He says sternly. He stands with his daughter in his arms. He puts her back in her stroller telling Cody it was time to go. Cody doesn’t push the subject any further. Rex has a complicated history after the war. It often comes back to haunt him. Cody walks beside his friend feeling bad for even bringing her up. They would have to come up with a plan for that batch another day. Today Cody was only focused on getting back to the apartment to catch Obi Wan before he left for the senate.

Read full story HERE at AO3

[probably-writing-x]

Short Distance

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by anon: heyyy I saw you're taking requests again, can I request something where the reader is in a long distance relationship with Aron Piper and she is based in Mexico City since she is Mexican and he has a listening party for the release of Sigo and she surprises him there with the help of his friends :) your writing is so good I literally go on your blog just to reread them because its that good

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“It’s all going to be fine, of course it is!” You encourage down the phone as you stir the pasta in the pot for your dinner, “You’ve planned everything, everyone’s going to be there to celebrate with you. And they’re all going to love the song, Arón.”

He groans and you can just imagine him flopping down onto the bed as he does so, “I’m just not good at stuff like this. I’m an introvert! It’s basically my personality to avoid situations like this!”

You laugh down the line and lean back against your kitchen counter, “You’re an actor! Just act like you’re comfortable and confident and people will believe you.”

“I normally have you here with me to help out, you’re better at this stuff than I am.”

This stuff was referring to the listening party for his new song that he’d been working on and perfecting for months now. Since you were still in Mexico City and he was still back in Spain, you hadn’t seen him in a few months now apart from your regular FaceTimes whenever you had the chance. It killed you that he thought you wouldn’t be there with him... but that would pass soon enough.

“I know babe, but you’ll have all of your friends there and your family.”

“I don’t want any of them,” You can instantly picture the pout on his face.

“You’re killing me Arón!” You laugh, “Now please get some sleep, it’s way too late over there and you and I both know you don’t work well on a lack of sleep.”

“Okay, I miss you,” He sighs through a stifled yawn.

“I miss you too. But it’s not long now, right?” You encourage, feeling the tug at your heart at the thought of not being able to tell him it was a lot sooner than he knew.

You say your goodbyes and hang up the call, instantly feeling the pure regret of not simply telling him that you’d be there tomorrow night. It would be a wonderful surprise, but you wanted nothing more than to ease his stress by being there for him.

It’s then that your phone starts to ring with a call from Omar.

“Honey you better be leaving your flat as we speak - that flight won’t wait for you!” He exclaims down the line, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just taking some dinner for the road,” You explain as you dish up your macaroni into a Tupperware box.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He laughs, “I’m not wasting my time on macaroni! Do you want to get to the launch party or not?”

You laugh back, “My Uber has only just arrived, I’m literally walking outside now.”

You only needed a small suitcase and your rucksack as you close up your flat and walk down towards the outside of your building where the car was waiting.

“Okay, do you have your passport? Boarding pass? Keys?”

“We’re not doing this,” You roll your eyes, “I’ve had my bags packed since this morning. I’ll get to the airport with enough time to spare, I’ll get my flight, and I’ll be in Spain with enough time that we’ll have an hour before the launch party even begins. This is going to be fine Omar.”

“I still think you should’ve got the earlier flight,” He defends, “What if your flight is delayed?”

“Positive affirmations Omar! I’ll see you soon, this is going to work out fine!” You encourage, “I’m in the car now, and I live ten minutes from the airport. I’ll text you when I’m there, I’ll keep you updated - okay?”

“Okay, okay, come and surprise your man!” You can practically imagine him grinning proudly down the phone.

- - - - - -

Only a matter of hours later, you’re through all of the typical processes of the flight and you’re just coming in to land on Spanish ground. It’s a relief, having flown through your hours of night to get here, that you were able to sleep on the journey. Thanks to the time difference between here and Mexico City, you were now landing in Spain as the sun was starting to set. It still all felt a bit confusing but the most important thing was that you were now only hours from seeing Arón.

You get through security and passport control before coming out into arrivals and instantly reaching for your phone to call Omar.

“Okay, I’m through, are you at the airport?” You ask, glancing around to search for that familiar face.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just grabbing a coffee, which side of the airport did you come through?”

“I’m right by the sunglasses shop,” You look around you, “And there’s a McDonalds here.”

“Okay, I can see you!” He hangs up instantly after that and you still search around the crowd to find him.

Right up until when he’s ten metres away and his hands stretch out to wrap you in a big hug.

“It’s been way too long!” He chuckles as you stumble back with his force.

“Way too long,” You agree, “Thank you so much for planning this with me.”

“Are you kidding? If it will stop that boy moping around about how much he misses the love of his life, Id do anything,” Omar jokes, grabbing your suitcase, “Now you’ve got a party to get to.”

- - - - - -

It’s hardly a glamorous idea when you and Omar end up stopping at a gas station to use their toilet for you to get ready in. For the black and red dress code, you’d found the perfect outfit to match. But you didn’t have time to get to Omar’s place and get ready before going to the party - so this would have to do. You sort out your hair and general appearance, change your clothes and just about manage to look as you’d hoped you would just as Omar is finishing getting ready too.

“Let’s show that boy what he’s been missing,” Omar grins as he links arms with you and you head back to the car.

Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since you’d first landed from your flight and you were praying that Arón wasn’t suspecting anything so far. He’d sent you a few texts and you’d tried your best to reply to them like normal, eventually ending by saying you were going to work when it would’ve been your normal time to do so in Mexico City.

“God, I’m so nervous,” You admit as Omar drives the last twenty minutes to get to the venue.

You’d be there about an hour after everyone else would’ve started arriving so it would give Arón enough time to mingle with the guests before your surprise.

“It’s fine, he seems like he has no idea.”

You check your phone again to make sure that your phone location was turned off, though Arón would never be the type to check it. But it felt like one less thing to worry about if there was no way he could see where your phone was.

The screen lights up with a text from him.

‘Hey babe! It’s going well so far, hope your shift is going okay x Text me when you get the chance <3’

You smile gently at his words, loving how he’d still thought of you even on a night that was meant to solely be for him.

“Shit is that him?” Omar glances over quickly as he turns at a junction.

“Just checking I’m alright,” You shake your head, “He isn’t suspicious.”

“Ugh you guys are so sweet,” Omar rolls his eyes, “But... we are almost here!”

It’s already dark by the time you get to the venue, the large hired house that they’d booked for the evening. There were a few cars parked outside but most people had booked taxis for the event or were staying over the night - like you and Omar would be. There’s a huge garden out the back of the house that was what made Arón choose this place in the first place, instantly envisioning the idea of having everyone out there after dark like those American frat parties. From the blasting music, you could tell his dream had been made into a reality.

“(Y/n)!” Miguel yells from the door as he sees you step out of the car, he ducks his head back into the house, “Guys she’s here!”

“I did not get this girl from the airport for you to just ruin the surprise with your yelling,” Omar points at him accusingly, a smirk toying at his lips.

Miguel rolls his eyes, “Arón is out the back.”

You let him engulf you in a big hug and watch as Mina, Danna, Ester, Álvaro and Itzan all follow out behind. They greet you all with warm hugs and express how excited Arón would be to see you.

Long distance relationships were never easy, time zones were an absolute killer. But this surprise actually being pulled off would be proof to you that nothing would stand in between that bond you’d found with your boyfriend - even if he lived halfway across the world.

“Alright, what’s the plan?”

- - - - - -

In a few minutes, you’re concealed in the middle of the cast as they make their way through to the garden to find Arón. Somehow, the weird formation works as you find yourself in the middle of their bodies like they were shielding you.

“Hey! Arón!” Álvaro grins as he sees his friend and the group all come to a halt.

Arón stops his conversation with another friend and turns to make his way over, his smile faltering as he sees the weird formation of the group.

“Hey guys! What are you doing?” He laughs, “You look like you’re about to break out into song.”

You admit it to yourself when you see how attractive he looks, wearing the outfit you’d both loved most when he’d tried on the options over FaceTime.

“Just here to support you buddy,” Miguel clasps him on the shoulder, “All your favourite people.”

Arón scoffs, a gesture to himself that there was certainly someone at the top of that list that he was yet to see, “Thanks for coming guys.”

“We actually got you a little present...” Omar wiggles his brows, winking to the rest of the group as they part to reveal you.

You watch as your boyfriend dissolves into shock at the sight, “(Y/n)?”

You grin and find all words seem to fail you in that exact moment, any cute phrase you’d planned on the flight over became completely irrelevant as you became consumed by the excitement of seeing him finally.

He reaches out and grabs you into his arms, lifting you up like it would bring you impossibly closer, “What are you doing here baby?”

“I got a few days off work so I could be here for your big night,” You explain, “I couldn’t imagine missing this.”

He sets you down and glances back at the group of prying eyes, “And you all set this up?”

They grin proudly before Omar speaks up, “We’ll give you two a moment.”

And just like that, it’s the two of you. For the first time in months. His hands on your waist, his eyes focused only on you, and his lips curling into a smile that was brighter than anybody else could get out of him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He shakes his head, “I can’t believe I had no idea!”

You laugh and run your hands over the mesh material of his top, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He dips his head to kiss you firmly, a kiss that had waited for months longer than he’d ever want it to. He’d spend everyday kissing those lips if he could.

“You flew all the way over here...”

“Well, wherever you go, sigo.”

He laughs that kind of laugh that crinkles his eyes as you reference the title of his song, wrapping an arm around you firmly as he steps around to look at the growing crowd.

“How about we blow off this party huh?”

“Your own launch party?” You scoff, tugging his hand in the direction of his waiting friends, “Our after party can wait Piper...”

[langdxn]

Cody asking for the new girl Y/N in the party that the crew of AHS organized today. One of his cast friends tell to him that she just didn't come. She was a very reserved actress and was a very introvert girl, she prefer be in the comfort of her home. What she doesn't know is that Cody would leave the party only to be with her, in his very glamorous (as always) outfit and just chill out with her.

NAWWW I love this so much! Thank you anon, this was a lot of fun 💖💖💖

(gif by codyfernsource)

“She’s not here?”

Cody’s eyes swooped around the crowded room, the blur of familiar faces as he tried to avoid eye contact in case anybody caught him staring. He fiddled nervously with the zip on his striped top, wracking his brains back to the day he invited her. She knew what day and time it was, right?

“Maybe she had other plans,” Gus shrugged, downing the dwindling contents of his solo cup. “Have a drink, dude.”

“No thanks, man,” he refused calmly. “Need a clear head.”

Billie Lourd made a beeline for the duo, landing an acknowledging tickle on Cody’s waist.

“Hey baby, how are—“

“Have you seen Y/N?” Cody cut her off. “Is she here tonight?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Billie spun on her heels to check the perimeter. “Maybe she got stuck in traffic?”

“On a Wednesday night? Besides, she doesn’t live far from here, right?”

“Couple blocks,” Gus proffered. “She walks home from set every night.”

Cody’s gaze darted to the front door. He could walk to her house and be back before anybody noticed he was gone.

“You’re not honestly going out there, are you? It’s raining like hell!”

Cody raised his eyebrows.

“Honey, do you even know me? Hell is home to me!”

“You got a crush on her, Cody?” Billie giggled, an expressive hand landing on his chest.

“No, of course not,” an empty dismissal fell from Cody’s lips as he formulated a plan to leave the building without attracting too much attention. Brad Falchuk was pitched at the front door, Kathy Bates covering the patio doors leading to the pool. Luckily, the kitchen door was guarded only by the AHS camera crew. They may be the most observant creatures on set, but tonight they’re off duty and they haven’t yet noticed how many drinks Leslie Grossman has sneaked past them.

“I—I’ve gotta go,” Cody excused himself, blowing an air kiss to Billie and thrusting his half full cup into Gus’s chest. Gleefully accepted, the contents were gone in seconds.

“Tell Y/N we said hi,” Gus called over with a chuckle. Smiling to himself, Cody kept his head down as he weaved skilfully through the numbers.

———

The TV drama mumbled nonchalantly, blissfully unaware it had been reduced to background noise while you stared into the middle distance. Tucking your feet snugly into your fleecy robe, you reached for a supersized candy bar and an incredibly generous bottle of champagne. Flinging a chunk of chocolate in the direction of your wide open mouth, you nearly choked on it as you cheered your own success.

An introvert’s food-throwing Olympics is never won nor lost.

Your phone vibrated on the leather couch with an almost obscene buzz. No doubt another Instagram notification from the party, Emma Roberts looking endlessly stunning in a dress you couldn’t even imagine affording, let alone wearing.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the cast and crew’s company, quite the contrary. You just needed some me time. The wrap party was the annual ultimatum you dreaded ever since you joined the AHS realm; lighting guys making inane small talk with makeup girls, hair guys battling in vain to find something in common with the runners. You scrunched your lips together, aware of how much you were missing at the party but consoling yourself in the knowledge that the anxiety wouldn’t have paid off. Singing into a hairbrush and watching dramatisations on serial killers was a much more profitable pastime. That is, if you can find your hairbrush.

Checking the luminous screen, Cody Fern’s caller ID glared back at you.

Shit, I forgot he invited me.

The longer you left the call unanswered, the more you panicked. Tapping to answer would only lead to twenty questions about your avoidance, but you couldn’t exactly turn down a call from Cody Fern. Your finger hovered shakily over the screen, wincing in agony. Unfortunately for you, said shaking finger tapped the button for you, making you curse silently and yank the phone to your ear.

“Hey—hey Cody, what’s up?” You answered feigning cluelessness, scratching your neck nervously.

“I thought I’d find you at home! I’m outside your door,” his familiar Australian tang chirped down the line.

“Easy there, Ghostface. What happened to the party?”

“Look, if it rains on my hair I swear I will barge my way in there and soak your damn couch.” His playful tone betrayed his serious message, giving you a handful of seconds to race to the door in fear of ruining The Hair.

Swinging the door open, you both simultaneously eyed each other up and down. You in your fluffy dressing gown, plush slippers and pyjamas, Cody head to toe in some glamorous clothing brand you were far too poor to identify. You shared a nervous, mouth-covering laugh before you stepped aside and ushered him in.

“What the hell happened to your hair, Mr Fern?” He instinctively shot a hand up to touch his blonde curls, all still perfectly fixed in place like some Flavian work of art. Cody snapped around to see you grinning from ear to ear. “Got you, babe.”

“So tell me,” he boomed as he made his way to your kitchen, grabbing a glass and the already half empty champagne bottle. “What is it about this very attractive drink that’s more important than the wrap party?”

“Ooh I don’t know,” you humoured him, swaggering over to the counter mocking the clanking of his ridiculously expensive boots on your linoleum floor. “Maybe I wanted a night in with a mysterious bubbly foreigner.”

Cody’s eyebrows raised so high, they may as well merge with his hairline.

“Okay,” you huffed, “I’ll bite, just this once. I’m not a wrap party kind of girl.”

“That’s all well and good honey,” he sassed on his way to the couch, kicking off his boots en route. “But why couldn’t you tell daddy you were going to abandon him and leave him asking the rest of the cast where your pretty face was?”

“That’s my problem, baby. I’m too new, nobody would really notice I’m not there anyway.”

Sinking into your couch and making himself at home, Cody cocked his head with a smile.

“Well I noticed!”

You sighed warmly, perching beside him and whipping your robe over your legs.

“What about the party? Don’t you wanna go back? You’ve seen I’m alive in here, that’s all you wanted to know, right?”

“Screw it, there’s always next year,” Cody declared, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you dipped into his chest. “So what’re we watching?”

“Something called The Assassination of Gianni Versace.”

“Oh really?” Cody chuckled heartily. “Never seen it.”

[tomhiddleslove]

The screen and stage star is making his Broadway debut as the bottled-up husband wearing a “mask of control” in Harold Pinter’s romantic triangle.

[ By Laura Collins-Hughes

Aug. 21, 2019, 5:00 a.m. ET ]

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

That had been his idea, to slip for a few moments into the character he’s playing on Broadway, in Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”: Robert, the cheated-on husband and backstabbed best friend whose coolly proper facade is the carapace containing a crumbling man. And when Mr. Hiddleston became him, the change was instantaneous: the guarded stillness of his body, the chill reserve in his gray-blue eyes.

“It’s interesting,” Mr. Hiddleston said after a while, analyzing Robert’s expression from the inside. “It gives less away.” A pause, and then his own smile flickered back, its pleasure undisguised. “O.K.,” Mr. Hiddleston announced, himself again, “it’s not Robert anymore.”

It was late on a muggy August morning, one day before the show’s first preview at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater, and Mr. Hiddleston — the classically trained British actor best known for playing the winsomely chaotic villain Loki, god of mischief and brother of Thor, in the Marvel film franchise — had been in New York for less than a week.

He’ll be here all autumn for the limited run of the production, a hit in London earlier this year, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d settled in. “I literally have never sat in this room before,” he’d said at the top of the photo shoot, in his cramped auxiliary dressing room, next door to the similarly tiny one he had been occupying.

He’d had nothing to do with the space’s camera-ready décor. So there was no use making a metaphor of the handsome clock with its hands stopped at 12 (“Betrayal” is famous for its reverse chronology; far more apt if the clock had run backward), or of the compact stack of pristine books that looked like journals, with pretty covers and presumably empty pages: a bit off-brand for Mr. Hiddleston, who at 38 has a model-perfect exterior with quite a lot inscribed inside.

Take the matter-of-fact way he said, in explaining that he’d first encountered Pinter’s work when he studied for his A-levels in English literature, theater, Latin and Greek: “It was a real tossup between French and Spanish or Latin and Greek. I thought, I can always speak French and Spanish, I can’t always read Latin and Greek, so I’ll study that and I’ll speak the other two.”

Though, to be fair, he only said that because I’d teased him slightly about the Latin and Greek, and I’d teased him — not a recommended journalistic technique — because he was so disarmingly good-humored and resolutely down to earth, chatting away as he waited for the photographer to set up a shot. It didn’t seem like it would ruffle him. He laughed, actually.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

In this country, Mr. Hiddleston is mainly a screen star, known also for playing Jonathan Pine in the John le Carré series “The Night Manager” on AMC. There are plans, too, for him to bring Loki to Disney’s streaming service in a stand-alone series.

But at home in London, he has amassed some impressive Shakespearean credits, including the title roles in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” and Josie Rourke’s “Coriolanus,” and a turn as Cassio in Michael Grandage’s “Othello” — a production that Pinter, saw some months before he died in 2008. That was the year Mr. Hiddleston won a best newcomer Olivier Award for Cheek by Jowl’s “Cymbeline.”

Jamie Lloyd’s “Betrayal,” which has a staging to match the spareness of Pinter’s language and a roiling well of squelched emotion to feed its comedy, is Mr. Hiddleston’s Broadway debut. Likewise for his co-stars, Zawe Ashton (of Netflix’s “Velvet Buzzsaw”), who plays Emma, Robert’s wife; and Charlie Cox (of Netflix’s “Daredevil”), who plays Emma’s lover, Jerry, Robert’s oldest friend.

Beginning at what appears to be the end of Robert and Emma’s marriage, after her yearslong affair with Jerry has sputtered to a stop, it’s a drama of cascading double-crosses. First staged by Peter Hall in London in 1978 — and in 1980 on Broadway, where it starred Roy Scheider, Blythe Danner and Raul Julia — it rewinds through time to the sozzled evening when Emma and Jerry overstep the line.

The most recent Broadway revival was just six years ago, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig as Robert, Rachel Weisz as Emma and Rafe Spall as Jerry. It might seem too soon for another, let alone one with sexiness to spare — except that Mr. Lloyd’s production is also marked by a palpable hauntedness and a profound sense of loss.

Reviewing the London staging in The New York Times, Matt Wolf called it “a benchmark achievement for everyone involved,” showing the play “in a revealing, even radical, new light.” Michael Billington, in The Guardian, called Mr. Hiddleston’s performance “superb.”

What’s curious is that Mr. Hiddleston, so good at bad boys, isn’t playing Jerry, the more glamorous role: the cad, the pursuer, the best man who goes after the bride. But Mr. Lloyd said that casting him that way was never part of their discussions.

Last fall, when Mr. Lloyd persuaded Mr. Hiddleston to read a scene with Ms. Ashton for a one-night gala celebration of Pinter in London, part of the season-long Pinter at the Pinter series, there was no grand plan. Having asked Mr. Hiddleston about a possible collaboration for years, since “just before he became ridiculously famous,” Mr. Lloyd said, this was the first time he got a yes.

“I just really admired his craft of acting, the precision of his acting, as well as his real emotional depth and his real wit,” Mr. Lloyd said. “And he’s turned into what I think is the epitome of a great Pinter actor. Because if you’re in a Pinter play, you have to dig really deep and connect to terrible loss or excruciating pain, often massive volcanic emotion, and then you have to bottle it all up. You have to suppress it all.”

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

The scene Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Ashton read at the gala appears at the midpoint of “Betrayal”: Robert and Emma on vacation in Venice, at a moment that leaves their marriage with permanent damage. Within days, Mr. Hiddleston told Mr. Lloyd that he was on board for a full production.

‘What remains private’

Photos taken, back in the faintly more lived-in of his Broadway dressing rooms, Mr. Hiddleston opened the window to let in some Midtown air — and when you’re as tall as he is, 6 feet 2 inches, opening it from the top of the window frame is easy enough to do. Then, making himself an espresso with his countertop machine, he sat down to talk at length.

“I’m always curious about the presentation of a character’s external persona versus the interior,“ he said. “What remains private, hidden, concealed, protected, and what does the character allow to be seen? We all have a very complex internal world, and not all of that is on display in our external reality.”

He can tick off the ways that various characters of his conceal what’s inside: Loki, with all that rage and vulnerability “tucked away”; the ultra-proper spy Jonathan Pine, in “The Night Manager,” “hiding behind his politeness”; Robert, a lonely man wearing “a mask of control” that renders him “confident, powerful, polished,” at least as far as any onlookers can tell.

In “Betrayal,” each of the three principals has an enormous amount to hide from the people who are meant to be their closest intimates. It’s a play about power and manipulation, duplicity and misplaced trust, and what’s so threatening about it is the very ordinariness of its privileged milieu. This snug little world that once seemed so safe and ideal — the happiest of families, the oldest of friends — has long since fallen apart.

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

“The sadness in the play — it’s not only sadness; because it’s Pinter, there’s wit and levity as well — but if there is sadness in the play,” he said, “I think it comes from the fact that these betrayals render Robert, Emma and Jerry more alone than they were before.”

Trust and self-protection

One-on-one, Mr. Hiddleston was more cautious than he’d been during the photo shoot, surrounded then by a gaggle of people affiliated with the show. Still, when I asked him about betrayal, lowercase, he went straight to the condition it violates.

“To trust is a profound commitment, and to trust is to make oneself vulnerable,” he said, fidgeting with a red rubber band and choosing his words with care. “It’s such an optimistic act, because you’re putting your faith in the hands of someone or something which you expect to remain constant, even if the circumstances change.”

“I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole here,” he said, “but I think about it a lot. I think about certainty and uncertainty. Trust is a way of managing uncertainty. It’s a way of finding security in saying, ‘Perhaps all of this is uncertain, but I trust you.’ Or, ‘I trust this.’ And there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world at the moment, so it becomes harder to trust, I suppose.”

An interview itself is an act of trust, albeit often a wary one. And there was one stipulated no-go zone in this encounter, a condition mentioned by a publicist only after I’d arrived: No talk of Taylor Swift, with whom Mr. Hiddleston had a brief, intense, headline-generating romance that, post-breakup, she evidently spun into song lyrics.

That was three years ago, and I hadn’t been planning to bring her up; given the context of the play, though, make of that prohibition what you will. Mr. Hiddleston, who once had a tendency to pour his heart out to reporters, knows that he can’t stop you.

“It’s not possible, and nor should it be possible, to control what anyone thinks about you,” he said. “Especially if it’s not based in any, um —” he gave a soft, joyless laugh — “if it’s not based in any reality.”

That’s something he’s learned about navigating fame — about being put on a pedestal that’s then kicked out from under him. He knows now “to let go of the energy that comes toward me, be it good or bad,” he said. “Because naturally in the early days I took responsibility for it.”

“And yes, I’m protective about my internal world now in probably a different way,” he added, his tone as restrained as his words. He took a beat, and so much went unsaid in what he said next: “That’s because I didn’t realize it needed protecting before.”

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

And the way he treated the people around him at work — with a fundamental respect, regardless of rank, and no whiff of flattery — made him seem sincere about what he called “staying true to the part of myself that’s quite simple, that’s quite ordinary.”

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 1: The Invitation

((Hi! This is the first part of another story in what I’m calling the Traces of Silver series, a WKM Werewolf/Monster Hunter AU. This story in particular is a retelling of Who Killed Markiplier, with a few twists along the way to match the AU. And it all starts with one last job and an invitation.

The POV will swap between Abe (third person) and Y/N (first person) every couple of chapters. Oh, and if I tagged you in this and you’re not interested, or I missed your username, or you want to be tagged, or whatever, just let me know. (Edit to add: While it’s not a main focus of the story, there are definitely hints of Abe/DA.)

Warnings, mostly for later chapters: References to death and suicide (off screen for the most part), language (nothing worse than from the original videos), dark themes, and yeah, no happy ending for this particular story.))

Abe nearly missed the sound of footsteps on the dirt road under the steady whine of cicadas enjoying one of the last warm nights of the year, and if not for the cloudy night he might have been spotted before he could duck into cover behind the nearby tree. Peering out, he watched with narrowed eyes as the figure moved with purpose down the road, a long cloak hiding any of the few details he could have hoped to make out in the waning moonlight. At this hour, few would have dared to be walking alone on the road so far from the village, but he hesitated, waiting for any sign that this was the one he had been waiting for.

He couldn’t make that mistake again in one night.

For a moment, he thought the figure would continue on its way, but at the mailbox they abruptly stopped and turned toward the short drive that led up to the farmhouse on the hill. In the time it took the figure to draw back her hood, revealing pale skin and light hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and take in a deep breath, he had already cleared the distance between them.

“Excuse me, miss—”

She screamed.

Even with his hands over his ears, there was no blocking out her wail, a bright and eerie keening that sent a shiver down Abe’s spine and wrenched his heart even as it threatened to burst his ear drums.

And then, abruptly, it stopped, and he risked opening one eye to see the banshee press her hands to her mouth, face darkening with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry! You scared me!”

At least, that’s what Abe thought she said, but it took a few more seconds before the ringing started to clear up, his own voice muffled as he muttered, “We…need to talk.”

A few minutes later and Abe’s hearing was mostly back as he stood in the living room of the farmhouse, eyes darting back and forth between Farmer Jim or Joe or whatever he was and the banshee seated opposite him.

“That’s all you want?” Abe asked again, to be sure.

The banshee nodded. Here, indoors and in normal lighting, she seemed that much more ethereal and out of place, not helped by how she sat primly as though unwilling to touch anything around her. “If the farmer will keep his cows in his field, I will stop the wailing.”

“Well, you could have just said something,” the farmer muttered. “Not like that pond belongs to anyone, I don’t see what the big deal is—”

“It is not your land,” she said, again. “And I do not like the look of that brown cow, the one with the spot on its nose and the evil in its eyes.”

Abe started to point out how ridiculous that sounded, but the farmer just nodded and said, “Yeah, that’d be Abigail. Been meaning to ask Father Richard around to take a look at that one.”

“And I did try to tell you, but my kind cannot pass the wards around your land without permission, and you just kept running away at the sight of me. It was very rude.”

“Oh, and standing outside a man’s house, wailing away his death sentence is that much better?”

Abe sighed. “For the last time, a banshee’s wail isn’t fatal, it’s just a warning.”

“A portent of misfortune or death,” she added. “For the record, you may want to stop climbing on top of your house and hire someone else to fix your roof. That’s not part of the deal, just general advice.”

The farmer sighed, sinking in on himself a little. “Yeah, that’s what my daughter keeps saying. I’ll go into the village in the morning and see if I can’t find someone to fix that along with the fence. Maybe I can keep some help around for longer than a week without someone scaring them off every other night.”

“Thank you,” the banshee said, springing up as though eager to leave. “I am glad to hear the others will not have to get involved.”

The farmer paled slightly, looking from her to Abe. “Wait, what others?”

She just smiled, which did little to set him at ease and probably explained the gratitude in the farmer’s voice as he turned to Abe and shook his hand.

“Thank you, hunter. I’m…not sure where I would be without your help. God, it’s going to be good to get some sleep again. How can I possibly repay you?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a cure for lycanthropy hanging around, would you?” Abe asked. “Maybe know anyone around who…”

He stopped when he saw the look the old farmer and even the banshee gave him and coughed.

“Or money. That works too.”

Outside, Abe felt the weight of the farmer’s money in his pocket and the stare of the banshee, who followed him to the road before speaking again.

“Thank you from me as well, hunter.”

“It was just a job,” Abe said with a shrug. Not a typical one, he’d admit, but these days he wasn’t sure what counted as ‘typical’ anymore. “I didn’t even have to do that much, but don’t tell him that.”

“Still, I apologize for wailing at you earlier. I know that it is not a pleasant sound, but…” She paused, her inhuman eyes staring a little too intently into Abe’s face for his liking. “Death seems to shadow your steps, hunter, even if it never seems to touch you.”

“Yeah, like this is the first time I’ve heard that one.” Abe tried to sound nonchalant, despite the pang at her words. She couldn’t know how true they felt some days.

“I feel I should warn you to be careful. There is something terrible coming, if you stay on your current path.”

“Do you mean the road back to the village, or…?”

Abe was only half joking, but the banshee just stared at him with something that looked close to sadness before turning and walking away.

He thought he would have preferred it if she just stuck to the wailing, all things considered.

Back at the cheap room he’d rented in the village, Abe took off his coat and hat, tossing both aside with a groan before sitting down on the foot of the narrow, rickety bed which gave a groan of its own. He stretched and hissed at a few aches and pains from his other recent jobs which hadn’t been as simple as standing around in a field to arrange a meeting. There was the griffin in the clocktower, that basilisk down by the coast—or had that been the circus who thought they could actually hire him to get their selkie back? It all started to blend together, the utter nonsense of it all, mixed with the rare moment when he would be pulled in to deal with a real monster, that exhilarating blend of terror and the thrill of the hunt.

A thrill that soon faded, leaving him here in a room identical to all the others, along with his pain and a paycheck. And so very, very tired.

Abe sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hand, and looked for the bottle he had left himself earlier only for his eyes to land on the elaborate invitation resting on top of its envelope where he had tossed it aside.

You’ve been cordially invited to Poker Night at Markiplier Manor.

Just a small get together, Mark had insisted the other night when he pressed the invitation into Abe’s hand. Dinner and some games with his most trusted friends, and Abe had barely managed to keep a straight face at being described like that before telling Mark he had another client already lined up and waiting for him. This close to the city, to the memories of what happened the last time he was here, left him wanting to get out before he did something stupid. Like give too much thought to how easy it would be to stop by their office, check in and see how they were doing this close to the full moon—

“Oh, come on, Abe,” Mark had said, his tone wheedling. “I know the life of a monster hunter is busy and no doubt glamorous, but perhaps you could spare a day or two for some time off and, dare I say it, a bit of fun? Life is for the living, so live a little!”

Abe had brushed him off with a noncommittal “see what I can do,” but now, sitting here and looking at the invitation with the banshee’s words still in his head, the thought of stepping away from it all and taking some time to relax and unwind sounded more than a little tempting.

Maybe a party was just the thing he needed.

((End of Part 1. Hoping to post a chapter a day until it’s done, but we’ll see.

Link to Part 2.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

[jovialyouthmusic]

Special Delivery

I make plans to take in a lodger, and we discuss living arrangements. Ginger chafes at being kept inside.

Word Count 2839

A/N no warnings, just fluff and a little frisson of excitement. No under 18s please

6 Working things out

It was the day I had booked the removal company to move my belongings to my new home, and take some other items back to my terraced house ready to rent out in a month or two. I also had to put Ginger in his cat basket and take him there. The house had a porch, and the main door lead into the kitchen with the dining room just off it. There was a hall beyond the kitchen, with stairs leading to the first floor. The lounge was to the right of the kitchen, and to the left there was the bathroom and a good sized downstairs room that could be a study, but which I had decided would be Fabio’s bedroom. Upstairs there were two more rooms, one of which was to be my bedroom, and the other I would use as a box room or study. There was a tiny ensuite bathroom for my use.

Ginger was confined to the upstairs spare bedroom while the removal men brought in the furniture. I planned to keep him inside for a week before being allowed the freedom of the garden and the fields beyond, so he knew it was his new home and wouldn’t try to find his way back. I felt sure he would be very happy with the countryside behind the house and wouldn’t stray, but thought it best to get him familiar with the inside of the house.

The day was difficult, directing the men as to what went where, and making sure Ginger was safe and undisturbed upstairs. We all stopped for a lunch break and I took a look at my phone for missed messages, which I had put on airplane mode. I stared at the number of text messages from Fabio, and opened the first.

Lisa, I was bad last night

Are you busy? Call me?

Please answer, I’m sorry

I dialled his number straight away, and it was answered in a flash

‘Fabio, it’s me…’

‘Senora – Lisa’ his voice was raw. ‘I was bad, I drank too much…I didn’t go to the gym’ I interrupted before he got any further

‘Fabio, all you did was throw stones at my window’

‘I’m sorry’ he said faintly

‘It’s fine, we all make mistakes. I told you to go home, that’s all’

‘What did I say to you, senora?’

‘Just that you think about me a lot’ He was silent for a moment

‘I do. I’m sorry Lisa, I can stay in my flat, you don’t have to have me at your house’

‘It’s fine, really’ I assured him. ‘Look Fabio, I’m still busy, but when I’m settled you can come and see me and we’ll talk. Is that okay?’

‘Yes. Thankyou, you are kind’

‘Do you have a hangover?’

‘My head hurt. I’m better now.’

‘Good.’ I answered ‘Next time we get drunk together.’ At last I heard him chuckle

‘Perhaps. We talk later, yes?’

‘Yes, I promise.’ I rang off, and took a deep breath. It would be a good idea to lay some ground rules with my new lodger – presuming that we went ahead with him moving in. I wanted him to come, of course, who wouldn’t? He was my Instagram crush made flesh. But meeting him in person was different. He was genuine, inquisitive, and funny, and I enjoyed his company. I knew he wouldn’t be around for long, so I was going to take things as they came.

‘Hey – Miss?’ The removal foreman was trying to get my attention. ‘We’re good to go now – what next?’

-------

By the time I had everything where I wanted it, checked on Ginger and had something to eat, I knew Fabio was working, and I was exhausted. I made sure all the windows were closed and the door locked, and let the cat investigate the house. He was hesitant at first, and went round sniffing everything. He wolfed down his kitty kibble when he saw it, and cast a disdainful eye over his litter tray. I was too tired to do anything but go to bed, so that’s what I did, leaving the door open so Ginger could join me if he wanted. Before I put my head on the pillow I sent a text to Fabio.

All moved now. Tired, will call you tomorrow.

You don’t want to order pizza?’

Not now thanks, going to bed.

Sweet dreams senora x

I stared at the little kiss at the end of his message, and found myself kissing my fingertips and placing them on the screen before I put the phone by the side of the bed and laid my head on the pillow. Ginger jumped up on the bed and nestled into the crook of my knees again as I drifted off to sleep.

-------

The next day dawned with sunlight creeping around the edges of the curtains. I had slept well as it was so much quieter. That would be different in the spring and summer when the dawn chorus was at its height, but in late autumn it wasn’t light until a decent time anyway. Ginger raced in from whatever place he had moved to and butted his head against me to tell me his dish was empty.

‘Okay Ginge, breakfast it is. Do you like your new home?’ He wound round my legs as I pulled my dressing gown on, and yowled at me to hurry up. As I sat in the dining room eating toast he jumped up onto the windowsill and chittered at the birds outside.

‘Not yet, Ginger.’ I told him. ‘you’ll have to stay inside a week or two, can’t have you going back to Jackson Street.’ I scratched his head and he huffed at me in surprise before breaking into a purr. I looked at the time and thought that perhaps he would be up and about after a long night shift.

Morning Fabio

He didn’t answer straight away, so I went outside, making sure Ginger was shut out of the kitchen, effectively meaning he couldn’t slip outside when I went back in the house, which didn’t please him at all. I hated being unkind to him but it was for his own good. My phone rang and I sat on a bench looking over the lawn, still neat from Martin’s good deed the other day. It felt strange to think it was my home now.

‘Buenos dias senora.’ His voice was sleepy.

‘Oh, I’m sorry did I wake you?’

‘Yes, but is okay.’ I wondered if he was still in bed, and thoughts of his toned and bare chest and belly filled my mind. ‘It went well?’

‘Yes, all to plan. We should meet up and talk about things.’

‘Si, si – ah yes. We go for coffee after the gym?’

‘Yes, where would you like to go?’

‘You choose, senora – somewhere English.’ 

‘Okay. How about the coffee shop under the town hall – Suzie’s Pantry?’

‘I find it – I call you after the gym?

‘Okay, see you later.’

As promised, I arrived not much later than I had planned, to find him sitting waiting with a cup of black coffee. He got up and greeted me with his usual kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.

‘Hola Lisa’ he said ‘Tell me, what would an Englishman have for a late breakfast?’

‘How hungry are you?’ I asked.

‘Not too much’ he replied. ‘I know about your ‘full English’

‘You could perhaps have a bacon butty if the full English is too much’ I suggested. Typically, the full English breakfast was a bit of a belly filler, consisting of bacon, sausage, egg, and other things such as baked beans, tomatoes and black pudding depending on where in the country you were and what was on hand. He raised his eyebrows in query ‘a buttered bread roll with bacon inside’ I explained ‘and you can have sauce – you know, like we had with chips – ketchup or brown sauce’ He nodded, and I called the waitress over to order.

‘I pay’ he offered ‘you are hungry?’

‘It’s a little early for lunch but I’ll have the same as you.’ I called the waitress over to order, and she went off behind the counter to talk to the cook.

‘I am embarrassed, Lisa.’ he said as she disappeared. ‘I came to your house and threw stones at the window. I think I only wanted to talk – but it was wrong of me. Can you forgive me for being stupid and drunk?’

‘Of course I can, Fabio.’ I said gently ‘But I came here to talk about you moving in with me.’

‘You don’t want.’ he said sadly. ‘I understand.’

‘’No, it’s okay. We should just probably set a few ground rules.’ He looked puzzled again, and I thought perhaps that wouldn’t translate properly. ‘What I mean is, decide how much you pay, how much you help in the house, that sort of thing.’

‘You want me to move in?’ he asked.

‘Yes Fabio, I do.’ He reached across the table and took my hand in his, his gaze intense.

‘Eso es muy, muy bueno - maravilloso – it’s good.’ he said earnestly. ‘I tell you now, the person below me, he called me bad names. Is not a good place.’

‘Oh Fabio, why didn’t you tell me?’ He shrugged.

‘It is no big deal, but I want good memories of England. Staying with you will…’ he smiled at me ‘I will remember it well’ I noted that he had not said like a brother again, and drew a shaky breath. The waitress brought our order, and I asked for more coffee. Fabio put sauce in his bacon butty and tucked into it with relish. I smiled and took my time with my butty. The window seat we had was good for watching people outside walking from shop to shop in the autumn sunshine.

‘I try to get some modelling work.’ he said ‘Fly from Newcastle or Glasgow to Germany or Spain.’ I quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘Is easy, no? I go and work for a week, come back here, rest, another shoot until I have money for the flight to Argentina and more.’ I shifted uneasily in my seat. The idea that I could lend him the money to go home was at the back of my mind, but the truth was that I didn’t want him to leave – not yet.

‘People think the life of a model is glamorous.’ he went on, taking another sip of his coffee. I carried on munching my food. ‘I told you – there is much waiting around, sitting in makeup, waiting for the right light if you’re outside. The pay sometimes is not good, but if I don’t work, people don’t see me and it’s hard to get more work. So this winter I look in Europe for the summer shoots. If I am lucky, it will still be summer when I go back to Argentina, and then I work there.’ He grinned ‘Some times I don’t know if it’s summer or winter. I model winter clothes in summer too, that is hot work’ Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief that I had not offered to help him pay as evidently he had been expecting to spend some months in Europe anyway.

‘Your Instagram account must help raise your profile.’ I commented.

‘Yes, I must take some more photos soon. Perhaps I drink tea in your garden.’

‘If you like, you can move in tomorrow on your day off. How about you pay half the rent you’re paying now, and do some work in the garden – and maybe some housework – washing up and so on? You don’t have to give me any money until you’re settled up with your landlord.’

‘Yes. I like. We should write it down.’ His face brightened ‘I can cook for you – my paella is muy bueno’ He made a gesture with his fingers, pressing them together with his thumb, kissing his fingers and gesturing upward with his hand.

‘You might struggle to find good ingredients. We can go shopping and take a look in the supermarket.’ Something struck me just then as he went back to finishing off the muffin.

‘I have a bicycle in the shed. You could use that to get to work – I don’t have to drive back and forth, you don’t have to wait for the bus or call a taxi – and you keep fit.’

‘Marveloso!’ he grinned. ‘I ride your bike to work.’

‘It’ll be easy going in.’ I remarked. ‘It’s all downhill, but coming back will be hard in the dark, and if it rains…’

‘There is an English saying for this – we cross the bridge when we reach it?’ I smiled.

‘Well done - we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ I corrected him. He had a good vocabulary, only the word order and some tenses were not quite right, but I reminded myself again that I would do no better with a foreign language. Besides, it was adorable and added to his charm. I suspected that unless one learned a language very early on in life, you would be unlikely to be fluent, and the matter of accents added to the complexity of language.

I decided we should go back to the house to take a look and see if he needed anything else and work out a few details, so Fabio paid and we walked to the car and drove straight there. Once there I greeted Ginger again, who baulked for a moment at Fabio, then remembered who he was and rolled over to show his belly, stretching luxuriously before leaping up and rubbing round his ankles for a head scratch. I showed my guest the downstairs room and its layout and briefly showed him the two upstairs rooms.

‘If you have the downstairs room, I’ll have these.’ I explained. ‘And we can share the other downstairs rooms – lounge, kitchen, dining room.’ I had my own tiny ensuite bathroom upstairs with a shower and toilet, and the downstairs bathroom had a bath with shower over it. He was happy with the room, and we sat down and wrote out a rough agreement.

After that, we went outside to the shed, which was full of gardening tools, the lawnmower and various DIY tools that my father had used in the past. Fabio helped clear a way to get the bicycle and took it out onto the lawn to check it over and give it a test run while I lingered in the shed and smiled fondly, remembering my father showing me how to saw wood or hammer in a nail. I was an only child, so he had no sons to pass his skills on to, but he taught me all the same.

After making adjustments to the saddle and checking the brakes and tyres, Fabio declared that the bike was roadworthy. However, if he was going to ride it after dark he would need lights, and I made a note to visit a bike shop in town to get them.

‘You offered to make paella some time’ I reminded him ‘I need to do some food shopping, so we can go and see what the fish counter at the supermarket is like’

‘But yes.’ he grinned. ‘We go now?’

‘Sure, we just need to put the bike away and get some bags and we’re good to go.’

‘Good to go.’ He gave me a thumbs up ‘I know this one.’

‘Great – you see to the bike and I’ll lock up the house.’

-------

A little while later, I dropped Fabio off at his flat. He had decided to get fresh ingredients when he cooked, which wouldn’t be for the next couple of days, and I had done some food shopping for the next week or so. Once home, I had pasta with pesto, and a glass of white wine. We had agreed that he would move in the next day, as Mario had allowed him to quit the flat straight away – Fabio thought he had a couple of tenants waiting and would be glad of the income. It did mean he lost his deposit, but he thought it was a price worth paying, and he said he was looking forward to sleeping somewhere quiet with plenty of fresh air and outdoor space. I could understand that, as it was a major reason for me quitting the other house.

I went to bed after washing the few dishes I had used, realising that I’d have to tell Martin at some point what I had done. He would probably give me more dire warnings, but I was happy with things as they were – or would soon be. Everything had happened so fast, but then, I told myself as Ginger snuggled up behind my knees that I deserved some excitement and romance.

[insanityclause]

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

That had been his idea, to slip for a few moments into the character he’s playing on Broadway, in Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”: Robert, the cheated-on husband and backstabbed best friend whose coolly proper facade is the carapace containing a crumbling man. And when Mr. Hiddleston became him, the change was instantaneous: the guarded stillness of his body, the chill reserve in his gray-blue eyes.

“It’s interesting,” Mr. Hiddleston said after a while, analyzing Robert’s expression from the inside. “It gives less away.” A pause, and then his own smile flickered back, its pleasure undisguised. “O.K.,” Mr. Hiddleston announced, himself again, “it’s not Robert anymore.”

It was late on a muggy August morning, one day before the show’s first preview at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater, and Mr. Hiddleston — the classically trained British actor best known for playing the winsomely chaotic villain Loki, god of mischief and brother of Thor, in the Marvel film franchise — had been in New York for less than a week.

He’ll be here all autumn for the limited run of the production, a hit in London earlier this year, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d settled in. “I literally have never sat in this room before,” he’d said at the top of the photo shoot, in his cramped auxiliary dressing room, next door to the similarly tiny one he had been occupying.

He’d had nothing to do with the space’s camera-ready décor. So there was no use making a metaphor of the handsome clock with its hands stopped at 12 (“Betrayal” is famous for its reverse chronology; far more apt if the clock had run backward), or of the compact stack of pristine books that looked like journals, with pretty covers and presumably empty pages: a bit off-brand for Mr. Hiddleston, who at 38 has a model-perfect exterior with quite a lot inscribed inside.

Take the matter-of-fact way he said, in explaining that he’d first encountered Pinter’s work when he studied for his A-levels in English literature, theater, Latin and Greek: “It was a real tossup between French and Spanish or Latin and Greek. I thought, I can always speak French and Spanish, I can’t always read Latin and Greek, so I’ll study that and I’ll speak the other two.”

Though, to be fair, he only said that because I’d teased him slightly about the Latin and Greek, and I’d teased him — not a recommended journalistic technique — because he was so disarmingly good-humored and resolutely down to earth, chatting away as he waited for the photographer to set up a shot. It didn’t seem like it would ruffle him. He laughed, actually.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

In this country, Mr. Hiddleston is mainly a screen star, known also for playing Jonathan Pine in the John le Carré series “The Night Manager” on AMC. There are plans, too, for him to bring Loki to Disney’s streaming service in a stand-alone series.

But at home in London, he has amassed some impressive Shakespearean credits, including the title roles in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” and Josie Rourke’s “Coriolanus,” and a turn as Cassio in Michael Grandage’s “Othello” — a production that Pinter, saw some months before he died in 2008. That was the year Mr. Hiddleston won a best newcomer Olivier Award for Cheek by Jowl’s “Cymbeline.”

Jamie Lloyd’s “Betrayal,” which has a staging to match the spareness of Pinter’s language and a roiling well of squelched emotion to feed its comedy, is Mr. Hiddleston’s Broadway debut. Likewise for his co-stars, Zawe Ashton (of Netflix’s “Velvet Buzzsaw”), who plays Emma, Robert’s wife; and Charlie Cox (of Netflix’s “Daredevil”), who plays Emma’s lover, Jerry, Robert’s oldest friend.

Beginning at what appears to be the end of Robert and Emma’s marriage, after her yearslong affair with Jerry has sputtered to a stop, it’s a drama of cascading double-crosses. First staged by Peter Hall in London in 1978 — and in 1980 on Broadway, where it starred Roy Scheider, Blythe Danner and Raul Julia — it rewinds through time to the sozzled evening when Emma and Jerry overstep the line.

The most recent Broadway revival was just six years ago, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig as Robert, Rachel Weisz as Emma and Rafe Spall as Jerry. It might seem too soon for another, let alone one with sexiness to spare — except that Mr. Lloyd’s production is also marked by a palpable hauntedness and a profound sense of loss.

Reviewing the London staging in The New York Times, Matt Wolf called it ��a benchmark achievement for everyone involved,” showing the play “in a revealing, even radical, new light.” Michael Billington, in The Guardian, called Mr. Hiddleston’s performance “superb.”

What’s curious is that Mr. Hiddleston, so good at bad boys, isn’t playing Jerry, the more glamorous role: the cad, the pursuer, the best man who goes after the bride. But Mr. Lloyd said that casting him that way was never part of their discussions.

Last fall, when Mr. Lloyd persuaded Mr. Hiddleston to read a scene with Ms. Ashton for a one-night gala celebration of Pinter in London, part of the season-long Pinter at the Pinter series, there was no grand plan. Having asked Mr. Hiddleston about a possible collaboration for years, since “just before he became ridiculously famous,” Mr. Lloyd said, this was the first time he got a yes.

“I just really admired his craft of acting, the precision of his acting, as well as his real emotional depth and his real wit,” Mr. Lloyd said. “And he’s turned into what I think is the epitome of a great Pinter actor. Because if you’re in a Pinter play, you have to dig really deep and connect to terrible loss or excruciating pain, often massive volcanic emotion, and then you have to bottle it all up. You have to suppress it all.”

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

The scene Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Ashton read at the gala appears at the midpoint of “Betrayal”: Robert and Emma on vacation in Venice, at a moment that leaves their marriage with permanent damage. Within days, Mr. Hiddleston told Mr. Lloyd that he was on board for a full production.

‘What remains private’

Photos taken, back in the faintly more lived-in of his Broadway dressing rooms, Mr. Hiddleston opened the window to let in some Midtown air — and when you’re as tall as he is, 6 feet 2 inches, opening it from the top of the window frame is easy enough to do. Then, making himself an espresso with his countertop machine, he sat down to talk at length.

“I’m always curious about the presentation of a character’s external persona versus the interior,“ he said. “What remains private, hidden, concealed, protected, and what does the character allow to be seen? We all have a very complex internal world, and not all of that is on display in our external reality.”

He can tick off the ways that various characters of his conceal what’s inside: Loki, with all that rage and vulnerability “tucked away”; the ultra-proper spy Jonathan Pine, in “The Night Manager,” “hiding behind his politeness”; Robert, a lonely man wearing “a mask of control” that renders him “confident, powerful, polished,” at least as far as any onlookers can tell.

In “Betrayal,” each of the three principals has an enormous amount to hide from the people who are meant to be their closest intimates. It’s a play about power and manipulation, duplicity and misplaced trust, and what’s so threatening about it is the very ordinariness of its privileged milieu. This snug little world that once seemed so safe and ideal — the happiest of families, the oldest of friends — has long since fallen apart.

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

“The sadness in the play — it’s not only sadness; because it’s Pinter, there’s wit and levity as well — but if there is sadness in the play,” he said, “I think it comes from the fact that these betrayals render Robert, Emma and Jerry more alone than they were before.”

Trust and self-protection

One-on-one, Mr. Hiddleston was more cautious than he’d been during the photo shoot, surrounded then by a gaggle of people affiliated with the show. Still, when I asked him about betrayal, lowercase, he went straight to the condition it violates.

“To trust is a profound commitment, and to trust is to make oneself vulnerable,” he said, fidgeting with a red rubber band and choosing his words with care. “It’s such an optimistic act, because you’re putting your faith in the hands of someone or something which you expect to remain constant, even if the circumstances change.”

“I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole here,” he said, “but I think about it a lot. I think about certainty and uncertainty. Trust is a way of managing uncertainty. It’s a way of finding security in saying, ‘Perhaps all of this is uncertain, but I trust you.’ Or, ‘I trust this.’ And there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world at the moment, so it becomes harder to trust, I suppose.”

An interview itself is an act of trust, albeit often a wary one. And there was one stipulated no-go zone in this encounter, a condition mentioned by a publicist only after I’d arrived: No talk of Taylor Swift, with whom Mr. Hiddleston had a brief, intense, headline-generating romance that, post-breakup, she evidently spun into song lyrics.

That was three years ago, and I hadn’t been planning to bring her up; given the context of the play, though, make of that prohibition what you will. Mr. Hiddleston, who once had a tendency to pour his heart out to reporters, knows that he can’t stop you.

“It’s not possible, and nor should it be possible, to control what anyone thinks about you,” he said. “Especially if it’s not based in any, um —” he gave a soft, joyless laugh — “if it’s not based in any reality.”

That’s something he’s learned about navigating fame — about being put on a pedestal that’s then kicked out from under him. He knows now “to let go of the energy that comes toward me, be it good or bad,” he said. “Because naturally in the early days I took responsibility for it.”

“And yes, I’m protective about my internal world now in probably a different way,” he added, his tone as restrained as his words. He took a beat, and so much went unsaid in what he said next: “That’s because I didn’t realize it needed protecting before.”

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

And the way he treated the people around him at work — with a fundamental respect, regardless of rank, and no whiff of flattery — made him seem sincere about what he called “staying true to the part of myself that’s quite simple, that’s quite ordinary.”

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

[maryxglz]

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

That had been his idea, to slip for a few moments into the character he’s playing on Broadway, in Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”: Robert, the cheated-on husband and backstabbed best friend whose coolly proper facade is the carapace containing a crumbling man. And when Mr. Hiddleston became him, the change was instantaneous: the guarded stillness of his body, the chill reserve in his gray-blue eyes.

“It’s interesting,” Mr. Hiddleston said after a while, analyzing Robert’s expression from the inside. “It gives less away.” A pause, and then his own smile flickered back, its pleasure undisguised. “O.K.,” Mr. Hiddleston announced, himself again, “it’s not Robert anymore.”

It was late on a muggy August morning, one day before the show’s first preview at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater, and Mr. Hiddleston — the classically trained British actor best known for playing the winsomely chaotic villain Loki, god of mischief and brother of Thor, in the Marvel film franchise — had been in New York for less than a week.

He’ll be here all autumn for the limited run of the production, a hit in London earlier this year, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d settled in. “I literally have never sat in this room before,” he’d said at the top of the photo shoot, in his cramped auxiliary dressing room, next door to the similarly tiny one he had been occupying.

He’d had nothing to do with the space’s camera-ready décor. So there was no use making a metaphor of the handsome clock with its hands stopped at 12 (“Betrayal” is famous for its reverse chronology; far more apt if the clock had run backward), or of the compact stack of pristine books that looked like journals, with pretty covers and presumably empty pages: a bit off-brand for Mr. Hiddleston, who at 38 has a model-perfect exterior with quite a lot inscribed inside.

Take the matter-of-fact way he said, in explaining that he’d first encountered Pinter’s work when he studied for his A-levels in English literature, theater, Latin and Greek: “It was a real tossup between French and Spanish or Latin and Greek. I thought, I can always speak French and Spanish, I can’t always read Latin and Greek, so I’ll study that and I’ll speak the other two.”

Though, to be fair, he only said that because I’d teased him slightly about the Latin and Greek, and I’d teased him — not a recommended journalistic technique — because he was so disarmingly good-humored and resolutely down to earth, chatting away as he waited for the photographer to set up a shot. It didn’t seem like it would ruffle him. He laughed, actually.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

In this country, Mr. Hiddleston is mainly a screen star, known also for playing Jonathan Pine in the John le Carré series “The Night Manager” on AMC. There are plans, too, for him to bring Loki to Disney’s streaming service in a stand-alone series.

But at home in London, he has amassed some impressive Shakespearean credits, including the title roles in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” and Josie Rourke’s “Coriolanus,” and a turn as Cassio in Michael Grandage’s “Othello” — a production that Pinter, saw some months before he died in 2008. That was the year Mr. Hiddleston won a best newcomer Olivier Award for Cheek by Jowl’s “Cymbeline.”

Jamie Lloyd’s “Betrayal,” which has a staging to match the spareness of Pinter’s language and a roiling well of squelched emotion to feed its comedy, is Mr. Hiddleston’s Broadway debut. Likewise for his co-stars, Zawe Ashton (of Netflix’s “Velvet Buzzsaw”), who plays Emma, Robert’s wife; and Charlie Cox (of Netflix’s “Daredevil”), who plays Emma’s lover, Jerry, Robert’s oldest friend.

Beginning at what appears to be the end of Robert and Emma’s marriage, after her yearslong affair with Jerry has sputtered to a stop, it’s a drama of cascading double-crosses. First staged by Peter Hall in London in 1978 — and in 1980 on Broadway, where it starred Roy Scheider, Blythe Danner and Raul Julia — it rewinds through time to the sozzled evening when Emma and Jerry overstep the line.

The most recent Broadway revival was just six years ago, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig as Robert, Rachel Weisz as Emma and Rafe Spall as Jerry. It might seem too soon for another, let alone one with sexiness to spare — except that Mr. Lloyd’s production is also marked by a palpable hauntedness and a profound sense of loss.

Reviewing the London staging in The New York Times, Matt Wolf called it “a benchmark achievement for everyone involved,” showing the play “in a revealing, even radical, new light.” Michael Billington, in The Guardian, called Mr. Hiddleston’s performance “superb.”

What’s curious is that Mr. Hiddleston, so good at bad boys, isn’t playing Jerry, the more glamorous role: the cad, the pursuer, the best man who goes after the bride. But Mr. Lloyd said that casting him that way was never part of their discussions.

Last fall, when Mr. Lloyd persuaded Mr. Hiddleston to read a scene with Ms. Ashton for a one-night gala celebration of Pinter in London, part of the season-long Pinter at the Pinter series, there was no grand plan. Having asked Mr. Hiddleston about a possible collaboration for years, since “just before he became ridiculously famous,” Mr. Lloyd said, this was the first time he got a yes.

“I just really admired his craft of acting, the precision of his acting, as well as his real emotional depth and his real wit,” Mr. Lloyd said. “And he’s turned into what I think is the epitome of a great Pinter actor. Because if you’re in a Pinter play, you have to dig really deep and connect to terrible loss or excruciating pain, often massive volcanic emotion, and then you have to bottle it all up. You have to suppress it all.”

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

The scene Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Ashton read at the gala appears at the midpoint of “Betrayal”: Robert and Emma on vacation in Venice, at a moment that leaves their marriage with permanent damage. Within days, Mr. Hiddleston told Mr. Lloyd that he was on board for a full production.

‘What remains private’

Photos taken, back in the faintly more lived-in of his Broadway dressing rooms, Mr. Hiddleston opened the window to let in some Midtown air — and when you’re as tall as he is, 6 feet 2 inches, opening it from the top of the window frame is easy enough to do. Then, making himself an espresso with his countertop machine, he sat down to talk at length.

“I’m always curious about the presentation of a character’s external persona versus the interior,“ he said. “What remains private, hidden, concealed, protected, and what does the character allow to be seen? We all have a very complex internal world, and not all of that is on display in our external reality.”

He can tick off the ways that various characters of his conceal what’s inside: Loki, with all that rage and vulnerability “tucked away”; the ultra-proper spy Jonathan Pine, in “The Night Manager,” “hiding behind his politeness”; Robert, a lonely man wearing “a mask of control” that renders him “confident, powerful, polished,” at least as far as any onlookers can tell.

In “Betrayal,” each of the three principals has an enormous amount to hide from the people who are meant to be their closest intimates. It’s a play about power and manipulation, duplicity and misplaced trust, and what’s so threatening about it is the very ordinariness of its privileged milieu. This snug little world that once seemed so safe and ideal — the happiest of families, the oldest of friends — has long since fallen apart.

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

“The sadness in the play — it’s not only sadness; because it’s Pinter, there’s wit and levity as well — but if there is sadness in the play,” he said, “I think it comes from the fact that these betrayals render Robert, Emma and Jerry more alone than they were before.”

Trust and self-protection

One-on-one, Mr. Hiddleston was more cautious than he’d been during the photo shoot, surrounded then by a gaggle of people affiliated with the show. Still, when I asked him about betrayal, lowercase, he went straight to the condition it violates.

“To trust is a profound commitment, and to trust is to make oneself vulnerable,” he said, fidgeting with a red rubber band and choosing his words with care. “It’s such an optimistic act, because you’re putting your faith in the hands of someone or something which you expect to remain constant, even if the circumstances change.”

“I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole here,” he said, “but I think about it a lot. I think about certainty and uncertainty. Trust is a way of managing uncertainty. It’s a way of finding security in saying, ‘Perhaps all of this is uncertain, but I trust you.’ Or, ‘I trust this.’ And there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world at the moment, so it becomes harder to trust, I suppose.”

An interview itself is an act of trust, albeit often a wary one. And there was one stipulated no-go zone in this encounter, a condition mentioned by a publicist only after I’d arrived: No talk of Taylor Swift, with whom Mr. Hiddleston had a brief, intense, headline-generating romance that, post-breakup, she evidently spun into song lyrics.

That was three years ago, and I hadn’t been planning to bring her up; given the context of the play, though, make of that prohibition what you will. Mr. Hiddleston, who once had a tendency to pour his heart out to reporters, knows that he can’t stop you.

“It’s not possible, and nor should it be possible, to control what anyone thinks about you,” he said. “Especially if it’s not based in any, um —” he gave a soft, joyless laugh — “if it’s not based in any reality.”

That’s something he’s learned about navigating fame — about being put on a pedestal that’s then kicked out from under him. He knows now “to let go of the energy that comes toward me, be it good or bad,” he said. “Because naturally in the early days I took responsibility for it.”

“And yes, I’m protective about my internal world now in probably a different way,” he added, his tone as restrained as his words. He took a beat, and so much went unsaid in what he said next: “That’s because I didn’t realize it needed protecting before.”

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

And the way he treated the people around him at work — with a fundamental respect, regardless of rank, and no whiff of flattery — made him seem sincere about what he called “staying true to the part of myself that’s quite simple, that’s quite ordinary.”

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

[pearlplusau]

Pearl Plus AU- The bright light part 2

Amethyst 8XWJ was one of the earliest to pop up from the Earth’s crust. When she first emerged off the kindergarten walls, she face-planted on the hard ground and was immediately greeted by a fellow quartz soldier, 8XWI. All gems she emerged with were great and fun, but 8XWI was special. When she saw others summoning their weapons, she was able to conjure her own with just one attempt. When she was taught about the Great Diamond authority and how the system works, she immediately adapted to the idea of higher power and understood her purpose of serving to live, living to serve. She was skilled, she was talented, she was… listening and attentive.

“What’s holding you back?” Holly asked in a sympathetic tone, her face twitched from calm to manic. “No idea where My Diamond’s pool is?” She brings back the whip once more, grinning to herself, “Shocker! (pun intended)”

She gripped the handle tighter, amplifying the static and electric current, causing an ear-splitting buzz to ring around the area, and flunged it towards 8XWJ’s arm. “Huh?” before she was able to react, electricity coursed from the handle to the tip and zapped her whole without warning, “Ahhhhh!” she screamed and trashed, but the whip won’t let go!

She kneeled down, and tried to resist! But it was too much, she thought of her comrades, her fellow amethysts losing the battle on Earth! Never will she be able to see them again! She didn’t want to give in, but…her form begged to differ.

The surge of destruction was too much! Being weak from her previous punishment, she couldn’t hold much longer, and…

Poof!

A purple quartz gem clinked as it landed on the platform, clattering as it stayed on its spot. 8XWJ was poofed and retreated into her gem.

Holly Blue Agate was smiling as she set her weapon down and thought to herself. ‘Finally, took care of the annoying purple upper-crust.’

“That takes care of that!” She claimed out loud as she dusted her arms off, and glared to the other gems gasping around her.

“Was that really necessary Holly?” Aquamarine questioned in annoyance, “Poofing gems in the open wide would be lead to…” She held her thought and snapped her fingers, realising her true intentions, “Ohhhh, I get it, you want us to report your little crime to the diamonds so you’ll be able to deliver the message, clever…”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get your hopes up, I know the rules around here.” Holly replied as she slipped the purple gem into her front pocket.

A loud voice boomed from all around the area, “HOLLY BLUE AGATE FACET 2D CUT-22! YOU HAVE BEEN SEEN TO HAVE TEMPORARILY DISABLED AN AMETHYST, PLEASE REPORT TO THE HALL ROOM IMMEDIATELY! YOUR CONSEQUENCES FOR YOUR ACTIONS WILL BE JUDGED BY THE GREAT DIAMOND AUTHORITY. HOLLY BLUE AGATE FACET 2D CUT-22! YOU HAVE BEEN SEEN…” the voice repeated the same statement until the blue gem found her way to the hall room.

As she leaves, she glanced at the surrounding gems as they muttered their predictions, different coloured sapphires glanced around nervously and whisper information among themselves, but Holly took no interest in what the future holds, her plan of meeting the Diamonds will be worth all the negative impact on her image.

She went in search of a warp pad, the fastest way to the Diamonds, a white pearl was at the control panel and stated her crimes,

“Holly Blue Agate, you have been reported of dismantling an amethyst out on the open. As you know, you will be sent to the judgement hall and be set on trial by the Great Diamond Authority! Any last words dear?” The pearl asked before giving the confirmation code on the warp pad.

“Why yes Pearl! I look forward to be in the presence of the powerful Yellow Diamond, AND my glimmering diamond of course! This judgement will be a little talk between us don’t you worry.”

“We’ll see about that…” The pearl thought while typing in the code.

Holly was cuffed in glowing white shackles by two Topazes, her eyes widen as this is something unexpected.

“What is this? Handcuffs? Is this really nessasar-” Before she could finish her question, the shackles glowed and bounded Holly in a white bubble. Frozen in time, she was unable to finish her statement, her mouth was wide open but her facial expression remained annoyed.

“Huhu! This new law implemented is really rather convenient for us, don’t you think so Topaz?” The pearl had a smug face of enjoying these minor “punishments” while the topazes were unfazed with the statement. They proceeded by raising a control panel that resembles a joystick and monitored the bubble by sending it to the designated location.

Inside the orb, Holly could still see, but she could not speak, she could not move. The only sense she could control was her sight, but all she saw was the orb heading to somewhere no agate had been before. Her white boots were in uneven positions, this frustrated her, but she cannot do anything about it, she simply stayed frozen,

It was a long journey, but Holly can make out the structures and buildings leading to the black coloured cubed Courtroom. As she gets closer, she realised there’s still a chance the diamonds won’t even attend the trial for a Quartz soldier, she tried to have cold feet as she felt nervous but the atmosphere wouldn’t allow it!

The orb came to a halt, the front of the orb scanned the building’s wall, taking a sample of the colour to match the Courtroom building. The colour dripped down from the top like a small current of black ink being poured over. When the orb was fully covered in Black, it slightly floated up and went through the wall with the sound of electric current zipping through the air.

The black orb enters a dark room, where it finally dissipated away in a cloud of back dust.

“-ary…” She finally finished her sentence hung over her mouth during the entire trip. She sighed and readied herself, wanting to look as best as she could be for the Great Diamond Authority.

The wall opened up a door sized hole, a tense, anxious blue zircon came in mumbling with floating screens around her, she was just a bit shorter but also belonging to Blue’s court by her colouring. She looked around the room and spotted the blue agate, her face contorted in  bewilderment and confusion.

“YOU’RE the one on trial? But you’re an Agate! When the files came in it says two quartz soldiers “roughhousing” in front of the Great Ballroom!” She examined the tall gem and retrieved a hologram picture from her monocle, it shows a purple gem being violently taken hold by the blue gem.

“Why yes! I did took advantage of that amethyst, you see, she had vital information about an issue of a colonisation process and asked me to inform the diamonds!” Holly tried to explain her actions, but Zircon just looked mortified while taking in the information given, she pulled out another hologram screen and typed in the new info.

“The door to the trial room will be accessible any second, do you have any more information to give before we proceed matters and actions to the diamonds?” The lawyer gem urged as she readied her equipment.

“That will be all, surely the diamonds would listen to what I have to say before deciding what to do with me!” Holly spoke with a dab of uncertainty.

The door to the courtroom opened up.

“Let’s go.” Blue Zircon led the way with Holly trudging behind her.

In the dark room, Holly stood on a glowing platform, waiting for the arrival of the three diamonds. A yellow zircon warped to the left of Holly, she took one look at her opponent lawyer and smirked, “New to this huh? First job and you get to defend an abuser? Isn’t that a bit, anticlimactic?”

“Being my first assignment, no, it’s not thanks for asking.” The tone in her reply was not at all thankful nor sincere, but before she could finish, two pearls warped into the room in front of them.

Yellow Pearl was the first to speak, “All rise for the luminous Yellow Diamond!” Yellow warped in and proceed to her throne with an expression of annoyance.

Blue Pearl continued, “The lustrous Blue Diamond.” Blue warped in and slumped into her throne in…. anger?

Both pearls synchronise for the last diamond, “And the Great, Magnificent, Brilliant White Diamond!” The brightest diamond warped in and shone the room so bright Holly was blinded for a moment, until the diamond dimmed her light and proceed to the throne in the midst of Blue and Yellow.

“Let’s just finish this so we can go back to our duties.” Stated White diamond before starting the trial.

Having the three diamonds present was not as glamorous as expected, in fact, it was intimidating.

The three diamonds stared down at the accused with annoyance and little patience.

It was VERY intimidating.

The yellow Zircon initiated the trial by stating the situation and the actions committed.

“…And so, here we are, at the end of this trial our great leaders will decide the fate of this Agate and end this case.” Yellow Zircon was about to proceed to her points and arguments but the diamonds up there were not at peace with each other.

“Is everything all right my Diamonds?” The lawyer asked with her arms saluting.

But the diamonds took no notice, Blue and Yellow Diamond were silently arguing about the topic beforehand, while White looked like she wants to just zap the accused and get things over with.

“This does not look good….” Blue Zircon whispered to Holly, “Why don’t you just admit your bad choice of actions and get it over with?” She suggested.

“Never! What I did to that gem was for a reason, and that reason will not be wasted from the inconvenience of the diamonds.” Holly protested but took one more glance at the diamonds, Blue diamond looked more unhappy and upset than usual, she looks like she’s trying very hard to hold in her sadness and frustration, Yellow diamond has her outfit to be slightly ruff and off placed, with her electric current leaking from her finger tips, not being her usual strict self. As for White Diamond, She just looked as same as before, her face says, “It would be so much easier to just blast this gem with my powers and have this all done immediately!” And it looks like she’s not having the patience to handle the current situation.

“Fine! Just because this trials wasting out leaders’ time, I’ll just present the information, but not without evidence.” Holly glanced at her pocket and checked the purple gem in place, and went into the confession.

“My Diamonds!” Holly saluted while addressing the leaders, “There is something I would like to confess.”

The diamonds paid little to no attention to the Agate, as they were occupied with their own matters.

Holly could hear some words mumbling amongst them, but could only pick up Pink Diamond’s name and nothing more.

Yellow spoke with a slightly louder voice, loud enough for Holly to get the picture.

“Blue, this is not the time to defend pink and her failing colony! You of all gems should have known her failure was inevitable, why struggle now to try and help her when you could help me convince this to White?” Yellow Diamond whispered, sounding infuriated but also trying her best to lower her voice for the sake of their reputation.

“This is the exact type of behaviour that will led her thinking we don’t trust her! You gave her a chance to prove herself, so you must stick with it!” Blue snapped at Yellow louder than she should, which tipped White into snapping back,

“Enough!” She demanded and glared, both diamonds froze and sat back down.

“Proceed this trivial little judgement so we can get it over with!” The diamond commanded.

“Yess of course My Diamond!” Blue Zircon saluted and summon some holographic files, she fuddled a bit, tried to pull the right file, but ended up dropping them to the floor like paper scattering around everywhere, but worse.

“Deepest apologise, I’ll just….uhhh…” Blue Zircon was dripping more tears than sweat, she tried to collect herself and the files, but she could feel the stares of the three powerful diamonds looming over, her anxiety is building up, it’s reaching the limit, she wasn’t ready for this!

She took on a desperate glance at Holly, hoping someone would help her out, but Holly had other plans in mind.

“My Diamonds!” Holly stood up, addressed and saluted in a clear, articulated voice.

The diamonds glared daggers at her for disrupting the defendant, but it was clear that she had caught their attention.

“I understand that this trial has interrupted your daily schedule, and I know you are all in a hurry of getting back to more important matters, I will be able to speed up this trial if you generously allow me to speak freely for just mere minutes. Hopefully, this can all be resolved as soon as it can be.” Holly explained to the diamonds and hoped that they would agree with her.

The three diamonds exchanged looks of uncertainty, but they also wished to get back to more pressing matters.

Finally White Diamond spoke, “Very well, you are given 5 minutes to prepare your explanation that will be brief and informative, no stuttering and mumbling will be tolerated and if so, you will be executed immediately! We shall have a short recess, Dismissed!”

Everyone retreated into their own rooms.

(First of all, i would like to thank @marzipanotaku16 for her amazing points and criticisms for making this work better than anticipated, we’ve known each other online and through the magic of steven universe. She’s also the friend that encouraged me to start a blog and share the writing for everyone to read, this blog wouldn’t be here without her.

Anyways, this story took longer to write and it would be concluded at part 3, I have some plans and ideas for more stories that may intrigued y’all but haven't really started drafting yet, so that’s gonna take a while to finish up.

And I would like to remind y’all that this is not completely a pink pearl oriented story, this blog is for me to express my ideas through the power of writing and the internet (lame lol) 

This tells me you read the whole thing, so thank you, dear reader, and have a splendid day, happy reading and enjoy! )

[shadowsof-thenight]

Fictober day 17: Matchmaking

Promptnumber: 10 “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.” Fandom: MCU Characters: Sam Wilson x Reader, many other avengers make an appearance. Warnings: some light angst, mostly fluff Words: 2816 Summary: Tony is throwing a halloween themed party and Natasha decided to play matchmaker for her friends.

A/n: before this challenge I had never written anything for Sam, so I can only hope that these quickly written stories do him justice. I do want to write more for him now.

Matchmaking

“Ugh, I can’t believe we’ll miss the party,” Sam whined a little as he stared pout of the window with binoculars.

The two of you had been on surveillance for two weeks now and not much had come of it. Aggravating as it was, this wasn’t new to either one. Every now and again tips simply turned out to be wrong or fake. It was only natural and everyone on the team was used to it. 
However the prospect of missing one of Tony’s extravagant parties, for the sake of such a misdirection, soured the mood considerably.

Sam and you both loved to party, he even more so than you. He loved the way Tony would go all out for these nights and this time the theme was Halloween, since it was held the weekend before. Dressing up always made the entire atmosphere a little lighter. It really was the party of the year. You were bummed, but knew neither one of you would leave the confines of this small apartment until Fury allowed it. That wasn’t likely to happen at this point.

You sighed, not bothering to vocalise your agreement to his statement, he knew already. Instead you leaned your back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and hoping it would suddenly show you something new or different than you had in the past few weeks. You didn’t.

The apartment consisted of two room; an open plan living room and kitchen, although kitchen was perhaps a big word for the small counter and two pitter to cook on. To the side was a small bedroom with adjoining bathroom, which was about as small as the kitchen was. The entire place was very sparsely furnished. A small couch and table in the living room and a simple but rather comfortable bed in the bedroom. The place didn’t leave much room for privacy and it was slowly wearing you down.

Sam was a good roommate, but everyone needed some alone time every now and then. Unfortunately due to the nature of your job, the bedroom door was never closed and the apartment was too small to really retreat anywhere else. The bathroom was the only place of solace and it really wasn’t much.

It also didn’t help that you had caught a glimpse of Sam’s half naked body more than once. Glistening with droplets that remained of his shower. The sight didn’t leave you unaffected and it was getting harder to hide that. By now you were certain that he was catching on to you liking him as more than a friend.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts and you glanced down to see Natasha’s name pop up. Opening the text, you smiled while reading. For all her tough notoriety, she was incredibly sweet. She offered to arrange costumes for the two of you, just in case you managed to make it back in time for the party. With the smile still on your face, you turned the screen towards your teammate, allowing him to read it too, before you answered. He smiled and nodded eagerly, holding out hope that he would get to wear whatever she picked for him.

“Nothing weird or stupid,” he mentioned and you chuckled, knowing that if you put any restrictions on the widow’s help that she would make you regret it. She loved pranks and it would not be in your favour. So you neglected to repeat his message back to her, instead thanking her for the offer and taking her up on it.

“You never know with Nat,” you told Sam honestly, shrugging it off with a chuckle and Sam could only agree with you.

He turned his attention back to the garage you were surveilling, some added spunk to his stature again. You smiled, feeling it too even though there was no inclination that you would get home in time. And all too soon, the glee of hope had left you both, as the monotonous nature of this assignment settled in again. It made the apartment appear even smaller than it already was. The two of you switched places every few hours, catching up on sleep every so often. This wasn’t the first time you worked together and it went quite seamlessly. He really was easy to get along with, even with your crush often making it unnecessarily complicated and at times even awkward.

Sam was usually teamed up with Bucky, if a duo was required, but much to his own despair Bucky was stuck in the hospital wing when this assignment came in. He had been nursing a badly broken leg and though he healed faster than most, the break was complicated enough to require pins to keep it in place. It had angered the soldier greatly. To ease the pain, at least he knew for certain that he would attend the part, you thought to yourself, slightly more bitter than you had intended.

Two more days were spend in a similar fashion before director Fury finally deemed the tip null and void, allowing you to come back to the compound. Elated you packed your bag and left the horrible apartment, practically racing towards the airport where Fury had arranged a plan to meet you. You’d arrive home in the nick of time for the party, mostly likely dead on your feet, but nothing was going to stop you from going.

****

A few hours later you were standing in your bedroom, looking at the outfit splayed on your bed. You had managed a few hours of sleep, before Natasha had come to wake you. A shower had removed the last remnants of sleep and you were excited again. That was until she had shown you your costume and confusion had taken over.

“Who am I supposed to be?” You asked as you assessed the outfit. It was reminiscent of the late twenties, early thirties of the twentieth century and you tried to grasp who it would be, drawing a blank.

“Bonnie…” Natasha hesitantly stated, drawing out the name. You kinked your eyebrow, hoping to prompt her into an explanation. Bonnie who? If she meant Bonnie Parker, you were missing half of a duo. And if she meant any other Bonnie, you didn’t have a clue.

“Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me,” she finally stated and you chuckled, wondering just what she had planned. Still too happy that you had managed to make it back in time, you decided not to fight her over the lack of information. You simply put the outfit on and let her help you with your hair. She managed to create a beautiful up-do that appeared quite glamorous.

“What about you?” You finally asked, glancing at her through the large mirror. She was wearing a read sleek sweater and a long black skirt. Her hair was hidden underneath a black wig.

“Olive” she stated simply and suddenly the look clicked, she really did look the part.

“So does that make Steve Brutus or Popeye?” You joked and she shook her head with a smile.

“Popeye of course, her one true love,” she then countered with a wink.

“Oh barf,” you joked, earning a laugh from your friend. You stood from your seat and smoothed out your skirt before linking your arm through Natasha’s and leaving your room. It was time to party.

Happily chatting the two of you made your wait to the elevators, only to be interrupted by an angrily stomping Bucky. He seemed annoyed with her and as he held up his costume you burst out laughing, understanding his annoyance completely.
 “Nat! What is this?” He asked, holding up an orange spotted pelt, a blue tie and a fake wooden bat.

He glared your way upon your laughter and you tried to keep it in as you looked to Natasha for an explanation. He wasn’t going to accept his costume as readily as you had.

“Fred!” Natasha answered with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes. She was up to something.

“Who the fuck is Fred?” He growled, looking very much like a tantrum throwing toddler. All he was missing was a stomping foot.

“Flintstone, from tv, from the stone-age,” you finally burst out laughing, joined by Natasha.

“Don’t pout, I thought it was a nice fit” Natasha smiled angelically and you laughed loudly as Bucky grumbled and walked away. He had limited choices with the party having already started downstairs. He either refused to wear his costume, which Tony frowned upon, or he sucked it up. Third option, improvising something with his own clothes. Either way he had to decide fast.

“I’ve got a surprise for him, if he puts that on, but I’m not telling him just yet,” Natasha whispered as the soldier had walked back into his room at the end of the hall.

You shook your head with a smile, there was one thing Natasha loved to do more than anything during these parties and that is set people up. You could only wonder who would be dressed as Wilma Flintstone tonight. And while this was funny to imagine, you also knew that a similar fate was probably waiting for you. Stepping into the elevator, it dawned on you that someone down there would be dressed as Clyde and you had no idea who it was.

A few moments later you entered the large room, marvelling at the decorations and looking around to find Pepper and congratulate her on a job well done. The room was decorated in everything and anything halloween themed. There were plastic spiders in sticky webs, pumpkins, witch hats and brooms. The punch had eyeball shaped ice cubes in it and all cocktails had special names, such as witches brew, Carrie’s revenge and screamers. It looked absolutely amazing.

When you finally found Pepper, dressed as a vampire bride, she was surrounded by the waiters who she was giving directions. You waited a moment for her to finish and then stepped forward, telling her how amazing you thought everything was and that it was time for her to relax and enjoy the party she so magnificently put together. Humble as she was, she tried to tell you that it was all Tony, but you both knew that it was merely his idea and that she had given it life. As always, though Tony often helped where he could. They made a good team, balancing each other out, for she would have never thought up some his extravagant ideas.

Dracula Tony finally came to sweep her off her feet and bring her to the dance floor, where they soon caught the eye of everyone with their effortless dancing. They were always a stunning couple, even decked out as bloody vampires, and they looked so happy.

You smiled as you watched them sway to the tunes, accepting the cocktail that Natasha handed you. You couldn’t decipher what was in this witches brew, but it tasted rather good and you were drinking it down as lemonade. It was yet to be seen if this was a good think. It probably wasn’t.

You were standing silently next to your friend, drinking in the room and all the costumes, when you saw something that had you choking on your drink. You slapped Natasha and she smiled sweetly, knowing exactly what you saw. She rubbed your back as you tried to stop coughing. You’d finally found your Clyde. Natasha had made use of your crush, which she had figured out long ago and she had made Sam wear the accompanying costume. Unwittingly making the two of you a pair.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as Morticia Addams handed you a glass of water. You smiled gratefully as you swallowed it down, feeling calmer almost instantly. Wanda always had that effect on you. As you were catching your breath, you saw the meaningful glances shared between the two temporary black haired women and wondered if they had worked together. Upon asking them bluntly, they answered honestly, confirming your suspicions. They had thought it would be a great way to break the proverbial ice between you and Sam.

You silently cursed them, but held it in as Sam was coming your way now. Your coughing fit had probably alerted him to your presence and it wasn’t hard to figure out that you were his match, even if he might not fully understand Natasha’s intentions.

“We match,” Sam said, grasping for your hand and twirling you in place. You smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Care for a dance?” He asked then and despite the want to say yes, you wavered for a moment. Finally you figured you might as well use this moment and accepted him hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor where many other people were already dancing. By now the blush on your cheeks was tenacious and you could only hope that he would assume that it meant you were tipsy. There was no hiding it now and you didn’t want to back out of the dance either.

He had one hand carefully splayed on your back and the other was wrapped around your hand as he spun you around the room, moving to the loud beats of the music. Sam was a good dancer, able to lead someone, which came in handy since you were to shaken with your current state to be of much use. All you could do really, was follow his lead. His close proximity was slowly depriving you of all rational thought.

“Why do you think Nat would put us together?” Sam asked, his lips close to your ear and his breath fanning your neck. The blush intensified and spread, reaching well below your neck now. You tried to find a way to answer him honestly, without putting yourself on blast. It wasn’t easy, with the cocktails you had already consumed. Part of you just wanted to tell him that you liked him. However, the fear of rejection held you back.

“She thinks she’s a matchmaker,” you finally said, your voice a little raspy with emotion. His face was still far too close to relax.

You turned your head, to catch your breath, and glanced at the other people on the dance floor. Steve and Nat were wild as they moved around the space, laughing loudly and whispering to one another. You could tell that it wouldn’t be long before they would slip out. They never did manage to reach the end of a party, simply too engrossed in each other. They made a cute couple, a cute and powerful couple that was.

“Is she?” Sam brought your attention back to him. His voice has been soft, sultry and again entirely too close for comfort.

Shocked by the interruption of your thoughts you turned your head back swiftly, your lips suddenly mere inches away from his. Your breath got caught in your throat and you blinked rapidly, glancing from his eyes to his lips repeatedly. Heat was slowly taking a hold your whole body and the blush must now have reached your toes.

“Usually,” you whispered, biting your lower lip as the tension between you build and build. You hoped you had understood his question correctly. Sam didn’t reply immediately, holding you closer still, staring deep into your eyes as he let your words sink in.

“Want to get some air?” His voice matched your tone and volume, rendering you speechless and you could only nod, allowing him to lead you out of the room and down the hall.

The hall greeted you with a deafening silence and a chill in the air as you hastily stepped through it. Though before you got very far, Sam pulled you into an empty office. You felt restless as the door closed behind you and anxious for what would happen. You couldn’t be reading his intentions wrong, could you? Had he brought you here for a kiss?

Your eyes were still trying to adjust to the lack of light in the room when Sam pushed you up against the wall, his hands travelling over your sides and coming to rest on your hips. He pressed himself against you, hovering his lips over yours.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his breathing slightly irregular as he seemingly forced his hands to stay still, gripping you tightly.  

You took a deep breath, smiled and whispered your affirmation, not daring to speak louder as if it would break the spell you were under. Sam returned the smile briefly, before crashing his lips on yours. He pushed up against you and your hands moved over his muscular arms, one hand finally resting on his cheek and the other nestled in his neck, effectively keeping his in place. Not that the situation required that, he wasn’t planning on moving away any time soon.

***

Fictober19 Masterlist

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel: 'I Wanted To Be Whitney Houston'

Jessica Biel gets a lot of attention for her relationship with “Mr. SexyBack,” but she’s a lot more than Justin Timberlake’s girlfriend. Since her primetime stint on 7th Heaven, the box office beauty has co-starred with Oscar winners Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti. Now you can catch her acting (and singing) in the big-screen version of Noel Coward’s Easy Virtue.

The actress also reveals how important it is to have a life outside of Hollywood and why Justin isn’t the only one in their relationship with a gifted voice.   Could there be a movie with her boyfriend in the future? “If it was the right thing, yeah. I would love to co-star with Justin. I just don’t know what the right thing is, though. ”   As for talking about their relationship. “I think you have to be really careful. Once you start to go there you really are opening your life which is already so open. Anyway, we don’t do much of anything. We certainly don’t do anything interesting. We just hang out at home. You have to have a real life because of the kind of crazy Hollywood stuff that you can get wrapped up in. It’s so important to have hobbies and girlfriends, and not know people that work in Hollywood. It’s a sanity thing; it keeps you sane. I was playing soccer and I joined a kickball league. That’s way more interesting to me than going to some party.”   Why she’s a 21st century woman. “Doing Easy Virtue about London in the ’20s was fun. We had a fabulous time because you got to dress up in beautiful, glamorous, incredible clothes and have beautiful parties. But behind the fun and frivolity, life was clearly very difficult back then. There were so many restrictions, especially for women. It was so difficult to do what you want and have a career. I much prefer to live now.”   Connecting with an American girl among the Brits. “I related to that kind of fish out of water feel that she had. I think I’ve always felt that way growing up, just in general. I went to a lot of different schools, so I was always the new kid. Then, you’re on television and you go to college, and you’re the kid that everybody knows and you don’t know anybody. So I really connected with her stoic ‘I’m going to survive in this situation’ attitude. What was very different for me to really grasp was her wit and cleverness. I wish I was like that. I’m just a little too nice. It’s so boring.”     Getting to belt out a ballad. “That just sort of happened in the middle of shooting. The director, who I guess heard me humming or singing along with something, said ‘You have such a great voice. We want to do ‘Mad About the Boy,’ and you should perform it.’ I hadn’t planned on it, but it was just such a treat because I know nobody really knows this about me, but I really started in musical theater doing Annie and The Sound of Music. I wanted to be Whitney Houston. That was my dream.”   Now, it’s show time. “I auditioned for a summer production of Guys and Dolls at the Hollywood Bowl. I thought, ‘Well, I’m not a soprano anymore, but I guess I’ll go in for it.’ I literally walked in and said, ‘I can do this song but we’re going to have to drop it down a few notes.’ Actually, I did pretty well and I got the part of Sandy, which I’ll be performing later this summer.   Working with Patrick Swayze in Powder Blue. “He is beloved by everyone, including me. I grew up watching Dirty Dancing. I watched it every day after school. Every day. I’ve seen it probably 80 times or more, no joke. Patrick was wonderful and full of energy. He was involved in the process and literally coming to the set even when he wasn’t even working  and saying, ‘Here’s my idea for that scene tomorrow.'”

Maybe you’ll see less of her sexy bod in future films. “I was looking at this script for a Robert DeNiro film and there was so much nudity in it. I just was like, ‘I can’t do it. Damn!’ It took me a long time to really finally say no to that one.”   What’s driving her. “I am constantly searching for roles that are hard, that are going to literally scare me to death. But it’s tough to get them. Sometimes I can’t even get in the room to audition. I want my time in court to be able to go, ‘This is what I’ve got. You don’t want it? Fine, that’s cool. I understand that. But at least let me have a shot.'”

Source: Parade, May 2009

[questingtheworld]

Living The Fantasy - Chapter One

AO3 Link

Summary: Meeting royalty, falling in love, and living happy ever after were the things Hollywood movies were made of…or happened only to the Meghan Markle and Daniel Westling’s of the world. Rylie Martin was neither made for the silver screen nor one of the lucky one percent—that is, until a bachelor party entered the bar she worked at one fateful night. Even after a magical meeting and love in the air, Rylie knew getting that fairytale ending wouldn’t be easy. But nothing could have prepared her for what awaited her in Cordonia.

Pairing: Liam x MC

Chapter Title Inspiration: Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

Word Count: 10,769

A/N: I've only recently discovered Choices (where has it been all my life!) and TRR was my first book, and it has just completely captured my heart. So much so that I decided to try and expand on the universe that they gave us.

It will mostly be from Rylie's (MC) point of view, but I do plan on having some "intermission" chapters where I explore some "behind the scenes" moments from another character's POV. Warnings and tags to be added as the story continues.

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

* ~ * ~ *

Chapter One: I Met You in the Dark

I met you in the dark, you lit me up

You made me feel as though I was enough

 As Rylie heaved two large bags of trash up so they weren’t dragging on the ground as she brought them to the dumpster, her mind wandered as it usually did when performing such glamorous tasks, especially when she was on her second of a back-to-back shift and was basically just running on fumes by that point. 

Often her thoughts drifted to alternate universes where she was holding up a plate of decadent pastries instead of rancid garbage or wearing a form-flattering designer dress instead of an ill-fitting, alcohol-stained waitress uniform and pretend the pitter-patter of what she hoped weren’t rats were instead the footsteps of an elegant ballroom dance.

(Not that she even knew a single one, but hey, this was a fantasy, not reality. Speaking of reality, Rylie could distantly hear her co-worker Daniel’s yelp and tug on her arm, threatening to pull her from her daydream and back to the present where those sounds were rats. Not wanting to low-key freak out with him, Rylie delved deeper into her fictional other life.)

Maybe she could have a job where the words, “it’s five o’clock somewhere,” wasn’t a daily utterance, or maybe she could win the lottery and never have to work at all ever again. Or maybe, just maybe, she could be someone who was treated equally and with respect instead of--

“Hey! Rylie, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!”

--Well, that .

And she was so close to reaching the ‘prince charming’ and ‘happily ever after’ portion of her fantasy, too.

With a sigh, Rylie turned to face their manager, Kevin, as Daniel let go of her arm. “You told us to take out the garbage.” Rylie wasn’t usually the type to talk back to her bosses, but there was only so much belittling someone could take before they snapped and Rylie knew that her manager knew that he wouldn’t be able to replace her so easily if he fired her.

Unfortunately, her manager also knew that if she didn’t need the job so badly she would’ve quit by now, which always left him with the upper hand. “I didn’t expect you maggots to take it literally and throw yourselves out with it. Now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. So chop chop!”

Forced to take the loss, Rylie bristled as Kevin smiled smugly before turning to head back into the bar.

“If bullying us is the only thing that makes him happy in life, I think we’re the ones winning in the long run, Rylie,” Daniel said in an attempt to placate her, and after a moment Rylie let out a long breath, expelling all her tension and anger.

“That’s true,” she conceded as they hurried to toss the remaining garbage bags into the dumpster. “That doesn’t make it right, but I’m not going to let him take up any more brain power. Let’s go check out the damage of this bachelor party.”

Heading back inside, the two of them peeked from around the corner of the Employee Only entrance at the back, eyeing the trio of males that waited at the front to be seated. A tanned man in a dark grey suit called out to Traci, one of the other waitresses, as she passed by with a pitcher of water for one of her tables.

“Waitress, there you are. We need your best table!” the man in the suit said.

“Forget the table,” one of the other men said, dressed on the complete opposite spectrum of his friend, with a button-opened long sleeve denim shirt over a plain white t-shirt and jeans. “Just bring us your whiskey, and lots of it.”

“Maybe the one in the suit is the one getting hitched?” Rylie theorized as she continued to peer out at them, watching as Traci assured them that someone would be out to seat them shortly and left to attend to her customers. Guessing what everyone’s story was for them to walk into a barely ‘Grade A’ bar was a thing they did to pass the time. “Do you think they’re bar-hopping, or that this is the pre-game?” she asked, turning to look back at Daniel to find that he was already looking at her with a sad puppy expression, hands clasped in the universal sign of begging. She could already guess what it was he was going to request of her. “Oh, no, Daniel…”

“Rylie, please take this one. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’ll never make it out of here in time…”

While it was only a group of three—smaller than the huge bachelor party they were expecting—alcohol always made things more unpredictable. “Why do I get all the rowdy tables?” Rylie half-complained, though she already knew she was going to do it for her friend.

“Because you’re a saint with a heart of gold and patience a mile wide?” Daniel buttered her up.

Rylie hummed noncommittally, but her poker face cracked as Daniel jutted out his bottom lip more and she threw her hands up in defeat. “Oh, you know I’ve got your back. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do tonight…and they’re kinda hot…and the tips should be good…” Rylie listed, trying to make herself feel better about accepting and make Daniel feel less guilty for asking.

“Oh, thank you, thank you! I owe you one. You’re the best!” Daniel gushed as he hugged her, and she laughed and hugged him back.

“Just have enough fun for the both of us. I wanna hear all about it tomorrow!”

Unfortunately, their manager chose that exact moment to walk in on them. “Are you two still talking? I’ve seated them already. Now get over there before I dock your pay!”

Rolling her eyes as Kevin left again—maybe if they weren’t so short-staffed he wouldn’t have to do some actual work like seating customers, the horror!—Rylie waved bye to Daniel before straightening her uniform and plastering the friendliest smile she could muster as she walked over to where the party was seated, grabbing three menus as she went. Rylie bowed her head apologetically for interrupting their conversation; it sounded like they had some sort of European accent. “Hello, gentlemen!” she greeted as she placed menus down in front of them. “Sorry for the wait. My name’s Rylie and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

Before she could ask for their drink order, the third man that was in a crisp black shirt spoke first. “Waitress, steaks for the table.”

I have a name…and I just gave it to you! Rylie screamed internally, but her countenance betrayed nothing. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d been defined solely as her occupation instead of as a person. She opened her mouth to respond, but the suspected-groom-to-be beat her to it.

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a béarnaise sauce?”

Does this man think he’s at a five-star restaurant? He was certainly dressed like it, but even she could appreciate someone who wanted to look good wherever they went. The smile remained on Rylie’s face despite her thoughts. “The closest thing we have to ‘filet mignon’ is the deluxe burger.”

Suit man made a face as if the word ‘burger’ itself was beneath him. “Dare I ask for your wine list?”

“We’ve got an excellent vintage house red…”

“ House red?! ”

“It also comes in white if that’s more to your taste.”

That only seemed to cause more terror in the man. “My taste ? Why, I never …”

“Sir, this is a Wendy’s,” Rylie said in a flat voice, unable to help herself when the man set it up so nicely. When silence followed instead of laughter, she shifted awkwardly. Tough crowd. She watched as the eyebrows of the man in the suit furrowed together, and she could already imagine him demanding for her manager and Kevin having the satisfaction of firing her. The man’s mouth opened, and Rylie held her breath.

“But…that’s not what the sign in front of this establishment said—”

A sharp gasp interrupted suit guy, and Rylie returned her gaze to the one in the black shirt. “Oh. My. God. I’ve read about this meme online but I never thought I’d witness it in person! Do me, do me!”

“Err…” That didn’t go the way she was expecting. It was a good thing, don’t get her wrong, but it was still throwing her for a loop. Who were these people and where did they come from? Rylie looked at denim dude, hoping he was the only sane one among them.

Denim man sighed as if wordlessly saying ‘this is why we can’t have nice things.’ “We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey...and four deluxe burgers.”

Rylie nodded, mentally taking down their order as she retrieved the unopened menus from the table but pausing when she realized he ordered one more than there were in their group. S he locked eyes with denim man to double check the quantity. “Four, sir?”

The man nodded behind her, and Rylie turned and came face to face with someone’s chest. “Oh!” Rylie let out in shock, taking a step back reflexively. Slowly, her eyes trailed up from the layered clothing (less formal than the suit man but more dressy than the other two), taking in his gel-styled black hair to his facial features that seemed Asian mixed with something before locking eyes with him. Whoa, he’s really cute.

“Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer apologized to his friends, though his gaze was still on her. “Thank you for your patience, Miss…?”

It took Rylie a moment to realize he was talking to her this time. “Uh, Rylie,” she answered less gracefully than she had hoped. Wonderful first impression there, Rylie.

The man smiled, though whether it was because he was being polite or because he actually found her sudden dimness adorable was unknown (Rylie’s inner voice was lamenting that it was the former). “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Rylie.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Rylie replied dreamily before stiffening when her brain caught up to what her mouth said. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you.” Smooth recovery. “Let me go put your order in. Be right back!”

Fleeing the scene with what was left of her dignity, Rylie sped walked to the kitchen and put in their food order. She took a brief moment to knock her head against the wall a couple times for her embarrassing display before she took a deep breath and headed for the bar to get their drinks.

“Let’s see, whiskey, whiskey…” she murmured to herself as she looked over their stock of liquor. In her haste to leave before she made even more of a fool of herself in front of the bachelor party, she didn’t ask for what specific whiskey they wanted. What kind of whiskey people were they? Rylie discreetly glanced back at the bachelor party’s table, analyzing them. Bourbon seemed a little tame for them, but she believed the only one of the four who could handle a single malt scotch was the one in denim. Deciding it was best if they chose, Rylie picked up three different kinds and put them on a tray along with four empty glasses.

“Hello again, gentlemen,” Rylie greeted. “Your food’s in the works. I’ve got your drink order here, but since the type of whiskey wasn’t specified I figured you guys can pick your poison.”

“Poison? You’re asking us to choose how you’re going to kill us?” the tanned man gasped as he watched Rylie place three bottles of whiskey in the middle of the table before distributing glasses to everyone.

“It’s a figure of speech, Tariq,” denim man explained, eyeing the three bottles in turn before looking up at her. His expression was hard to read, but Rylie knew she was about to be tested. “What’re our choices?”

Rylie straightened under his gaze, firm and ready with no sign of weakness; if he thought he was the first man to question her knowledge of liquor when she literally worked in a bar he would be solely mistaken. “If this is your pre-game, or if you’re new to the world of whiskey, I recommend Four Roses. It’s smooth while having none of the bite of other whiskey.”

The man in black perked up at the term he didn’t recognize. “What’s a pre-game?”

“Like a pit stop before the real party begins,” Rylie answered with a wink before continuing. “If you’re feeling a little adventurous but don’t want to jump off the deep end quite yet, there’s Johnnie Walker. It’s a blended scotch and is a nice middle road between bourbon and a single malt whiskey, like the Macallan here. Choose this if you think you can handle a real kick to your taste buds.”

Rylie gave denim dude a look, who crossed his arms and nodded appreciatively; it looked like she passed.

“What would you go with?” the cute latecomer asked her.

She tapped Johnnie Walker. “It’s the best of both worlds. But it really depends on you—”

“We’ll take it!” the hyper man in black said before anyone else could say otherwise, though no one moved to object his decision.

“Excellent choice,” Rylie said dutifully, though she couldn’t suppress the tiny bit of pride that welled up inside her for the party to trust her word enough to go with her pick. After opening the bottle for them and filling their glasses three quarters of the way full, Rylie left the bottle in the middle of the table for them to refill at their leisure and collected the other two that weren’t chosen, placing them back on the tray. “If you’d like that on the rocks, let me know, though I do think it will dilute the taste.”

The latecomer smiled that million watt smile again. “No rocks, then.”

He could light up the world with that smile , Rylie thought wistfully. “I’ll be right back with your burgers.”

As Rylie walked back to the bar to return the other two bottles her manager suddenly appeared beside her. “Johnnie Walker, Rylie, really? Why didn’t you give them the Macallan when you know it costs more?” Kevin hissed at her.

“The customer chose,” Rylie said through gritted teeth as she kept a smile on her face on in case anyone was looking, “and haven’t you heard that the customer is always right?”

“I know for a fact that they asked for your opinion. You could’ve lied to sell the more expensive one. They clearly don’t know any better and they would’ve been too drunk by the end of the night to notice the bill.”

Her manager was actually the worst. Rylie pointedly refused to look at him or even give that ridiculous statement a response as she put the bottles away. A server’s word meant something to her, at least, and she wasn’t going to lie just to cheat the customer. It probably made her the worst employee in terms of selling unwanted things to customers but her integrity mattered more to her. It was another one of those things that probably should’ve gotten her fired a long time go…

“You’re just lucky that the price difference isn’t too much; less money I’m going to take out from your paycheck.”

…But then Kevin got back at her by doing things like that.

Rylie finally turned to face her manager as she clutched the now empty tray in her hand tightly. “You can’t do that!”

Kevin smirked at her. “I just did. Now you better grab their food before it gets cold and I’ll be forced to take their meal out of your paycheck too when they inevitably walk out.” He made a ‘shooing’ motion with his hand and Rylie had no choice but to do as he said, even if she was going to do it anyway.

The rest of the night was generally normal, with Kevin’s yelling at her and her co-workers normal background noise by now and the one sleazy man (there was always one) who was constantly calling her over for something just to keep her in his presence. Surprisingly, the bachelor party never got rowdy, though they certainly kept the rest of her shift interesting in the way the man in the black shirt was constantly trying to talk about pop culture with her and how Tariq (if she remembered what the one in denim called the one in the suit’s name was correctly) actually tried to eat his burger with a knife and fork.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” Rylie asked politely as she cleared the empty plates off of their table. She didn’t want to rush them but closing time was in a couple of minutes, and after spending 16 hours at work she was ready to book it out of there.

“Just a glass of water,” the man in denim asked as the cute latecomer slid out of the booth to let the one in black out; him and Rylie locked eyes and shared a smile as he sat back down.

“For the table?” she asked for clarification.

The latecomer looked down at his watch as he sat back down and frowned slightly before looking up at Tariq, who nodded. He sighed softly. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he said apologetically.

Well, there went her chances of leaving on time. Still, she couldn’t look at his handsome face and feel anything but a flutter in her heart. “Not at all.”

After delivering their water, Rylie started cleaning the rest of the tables so that she’d have less to do when the bachelor party was done. As she was finishing up wiping down the bar, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see the man she had been eyeing all night. “Hey! Do you guys need a refill?”

The Asian man smiled. “Actually, I think we’re about ready to head out. I just wanted to thank you...and apologize. I know we kept you late, and my friends can be...demanding.”

Was that why he was frowning at his watch when I brought the water earlier? I thought they were running late for something. Did he know what time we closed? The possibility that that thought might’ve been true left her breathless at how thoughtful that would’ve been if it was. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rylie assured him. She’d definitely handled worst tables than his before.

His eyes seemed to search her face for any hint of a lie before he smiled. “I got the feeling that you could take care of yourself.”

Rylie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, what gave it away?”

“I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…your features are soft, but sometimes they betray your fiery spirit within,” he answered genuinely before his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. “Plus I can imagine it’s not easy to work here...”

“..And that’d require some backbone?” Rylie finished for him, laughing when he seemed even more embarrassed by his insinuation. Before her mind can catch up to her body, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm to comfort him, and she felt him relax under her touch. “I’m not mad, just curious as to what made you think that. You’re not wrong, and I do have a baby face; trips people up all the time.”

Realizing she was still holding onto him (it just felt so natural ), Rylie quickly let go and cleared her own throat. “It was kind of you to come over and apologize. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it. If you guys are heading out now, I hope you guys enjoy the rest of the bachelor party!”

The man took another step forward as Rylie began to turn away to get back to work. “That wasn’t the only reason I came by. As… unnecessary as it may be in your opinion, I still have an invitation I’d wish to extend to you to make up for things. If you don’t have any other plans tonight, maybe I can buy you a drink. We’re about to go to a club.”

Well, this wasn’t how Rylie was expecting her night to go, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Maybe taking the party table would reap more benefits than she originally thought. “Oh? Which one?”

“We were hoping you might have some advice about that,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not from around here.”

Rylie smiled coyly before mimicking his earlier action by searching his face for a lie and saying, “I got the feeling that you guys weren’t native New Yorkers.”

The man realized what she was doing almost immediately and decided to play along in this sudden role reversal of theirs. “Oh, what gave it away?” he said, eyebrows raised.

A grin spread across Rylie’s face before she tried to school them into a more serious expression. “No offense but I’ve never met anyone quite like you since I’ve gotten to this city, and that’s a good thing, trust me. Plus the accents were a bit of a giveaway, though what really sold it was how your friends acted. No chill whatsoever.”

“No offense taken. I’ll humbly accept the first part as a compliment. As for the rest, we’re not exactly used to…all of this,” he waved his hand out vaguely in front of him.

“New York can be pretty overwhelming for those not used to a big city.” The man looked like he wanted to protest but decided against it, so Rylie continued. “Hmm, well, if you really want to let loose, I’ve heard Kismet is the hottest club in town at the moment.”

“That sounds perfect. I know the guys want to go crazy tonight! So, does that mean you’ll join us…?” he trailed off hopefully.

“Under one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“You tell me your name. I’m not in the habit of leaving with complete strangers,” Rylie said with a smile.

The man winced slightly, and Rylie believed if he had less restraint he would’ve smacked a hand against his forehead. “Where are my manners? My name is Liam. I’ll introduce my friends once we’re outside.”

“Trust me, Liam, you have more manners in your pinky than most people do in their entire being. And that sounds like a plan! Just let me finish up here and I’ll meet you out front.”

“You’re too kind, Rylie,” Liam said, then bowed slightly before heading towards the exit.

“And you’re too modest!” Rylie called after him, cherishing the chuckle that she heard before she headed for their table to clear it. She noticed an envelope under their bill and read the neat note written on the front. “Thank you for your service tonight. This is your tip: open once you arrive safely home,” Rylie read aloud to herself before turning the sealed packet in her hands. It felt like it had some thickness to it, but it could’ve just been a bunch of dollar bills. Were they embarrassed? It wasn’t like it mattered, especially since it seemed like she was going to get a drink out of it.

“Who even puts tips in an envelope anyway?” Rylie asked herself. They continued to surprise her with their quirkiness. Shrugging, she stuffed the envelope in her apron pocket and quickly finished her closing duties before heading into the breakroom to change. I am so ready to get out of this uniform… Rylie thought as she began to change into a pair of dark denim skinny jeans, a chic berry purple short sleeved shirt that complimented the tone of her medium brown skin, and accessorized with a faux gold chain and black ankle boots.

Pulling at the hair tie that kept her hair up revealed that while the top half of her hair was a dark brown, from the middle down to the tips was a dark pink ombre colour, otherwise hidden by the way she had styled her up do. Rylie finger combed her hair, trying to get that sultry messy wave and parting it on her right side. With that done, she donned a black leather jacket and checked herself out in the mirror.

Perfect.

Grabbing her bag, Rylie clocked out, waved by to any of her lingering co-workers and avoided her manager like the plague as she made her way outside, finding Liam and his friends waiting for her.

The guy in denim was the first to notice her as he looked up from his phone, and he did a double take as he saw her approach. “Wow,” he breathed out as his eyes subtly raked up her form until he locked eyes with her.

“Wow?” Rylie repeated as she stopped in front of him.

“I...almost didn’t recognize you,” he tried to elaborate, still at a loss for words.

“That uniform wasn’t doing you justice,” Tariq agreed with denim man’s disjointed appraisal, also eyeing her with an approving gaze.

The one in the black shirt joined his friends in crowding her, unabashedly checking her out. “Yeah, the waitress is hot.”

Rylie let out a laugh, trying to figure out if she was amused, flattered, or upset by the attention and comments. They acted as if they had never seen a woman in skinny jeans before, and while it was really nice to be seen as attractive it was also a little objectifying.

Before she could decide, there were footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Liam giving his friends a stern look. “Ahem. Her name is Rylie, and I doubt she appreciates you talking about her like that.”

She hummed, unsure. “The jury’s still out on that one.”

Denim man bowed his head in silent apology, while Tariq looked taken aback as he seemed to be the whole night she was waiting on them. “Are we on trial?”

“Still a figure of speech, Tariq,” denim man said.

“I would appreciate being called by my name, though,” Rylie added, looking at Liam gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Right. Sorry, Rylie. I meant to say, you look lovely,” the one in the black shirt said sincerely, folding his right arm across his stomach and bending slightly at the hip rather regally before standing up and clapping his hands together. “Now let’s get this party going!”

“Before we go, I did promise to introduce you to everyone. This is Drake,” Liam named as he gestured towards the man in denim, “Maxwell,” the one in the black shirt gave a wave, “and Tariq,” Liam finished as he gave the one in the suit a pat on the shoulder.

Rylie gave a wave back to the group. “Nice to meet you all, officially.”

Drake crossed his arms, eyeing her with a more calculating look than before. “So she’s our tour guide now?”

Rylie frowned slightly. Well, isn’t he a ray of sunshine. Liam had made it sound like everyone was on board with her coming along. If that wasn’t the case she wasn’t going to insert herself into their bachelor party. “It’s okay, I can go. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

“Please stay,” Liam beseeched her softly before facing Drake squarely. “Rylie was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favour, so play nice.”

The two of them held gazes for a while, having some sort of silent conversation before Drake looked away mumbling something that sounded like ‘masochist’. “Don’t go,” Drake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’d be grateful for your assistance.”

“Apology accepted,” Rylie said, smiling innocently when Drake’s head snapped towards her.

“I didn’t apologize—”

She began going up and down the balls of her feet and batting her eyes at him sweetly, beaming as Drake realized he couldn’t argue with her. With a grumble, he turned and walked away with Tariq and Maxwell following after him, the latter’s laugh reaching her ears.

“Well since the plan is still a go, I’ll just order us an Uber—” Rylie started as she pulled out her phone.

“Actually,” Liam said, gently placing a hand atop hers that was holding the phone, “we already have a ride.”

He motioned her forwards, and Rylie walked towards the direction the others had gone to see a limo waiting around the corner. “Wow,” Rylie said with a whistle. “You guys really went all out for this bachelor party, eh?”

She missed Liam’s grimace, only turning when his fingers lightly touched her elbow in order to get her attention. “The guys wouldn’t have it any other way. If you could tell me where the club is, I’ll inform the driver.”

After showing the driver the location from the map off her phone, Liam and Rylie climbed into the back with the others before the driver closed the door behind them and got into the front seat.

“So…” Rylie began a few minutes into the drive. “What made you guys choose New York for your bachelor party instead of like…Las Vegas?”

Drake frowned. “Too crowded.”

“Too hot.” Tariq needlessly adjusted his suit.

“Too tempting. We’d definitely get into some sort of trouble there,” Maxwell shivered as scenarios went through his head.

“‘ We ’?” Drake raised an eyebrow at him.

“You guys do seem the type that’ll somehow recreate ‘The Hangover’,” Rylie mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“‘ You guys ’?” Drake repeated again, as if to stress that he wasn’t going to be sucked into their hypothetical mess.

Maxwell nodded at Rylie, ignoring Drake. “Right?! Besides, it was Liam’s idea to come to this city.”

Rylie moved her gaze to him, curious, and Liam chuckled good-naturedly. “I was afraid that what happens in Vegas may not stay in Vegas,” he half-joked. There was a moment of hesitation as he glanced at his friends before he leaned in towards Rylie slightly. “Besides, we never would have met if we hadn’t come to New York. Perhaps it’s—.”

“Kismet,” the driver announced as the limo slowed to a stop, and Rylie felt her face heat up at the perfect timing and double meaning of the word.

Liam seemed to flush as well, but his gaze was still steady on her as he whispered, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Rylie swallowed. “I never took you to be a pun guy,” she said, playing on how ‘pun’ and ‘fun’ sounded alike, and willed her heart to slow. She was not going to fall for someone she’d never see again. Don’t do it Rylie.

“It seems like we have that in common,” Liam observed as the door opened and his friends piled out. Liam got out as well before bending down to look at her, holding a hand out. “Shall we?”

Smiling, Rylie accepted his help out of the limo, and the group made their way to the back of the line into the club as the limo drove away to park until called upon again. It was perhaps only a ten minute wait, but she could hear snippets of Maxwell, Tariq and Drake going back and forth about ‘waiting’ and being able to ‘skip the line’ and something about ‘stop being babies’ the whole time.

Unsurprisingly to Rylie, once they got to the front of the line she was carded, as was Maxwell, and the group laughed as Tariq insisted that his ID be checked as well. As soon as they were inside, though, the guys immediately headed for the dance floor like the music was a siren song calling to them.

“Time to party!” Maxwell yelled as he shimmed to the middle of the action.

“No one wants to see your running man, Maxwell,” Drake teased as even he seemed to loosen up with the beat.

“You there! Who do we talk to for bottle service?” Tariq called out to a passing server.

“Yeah, sure, we’ll get a table for the group, you’re welcome!” Rylie called after them as Liam chuckled beside her.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” Liam said as they were seated at a table on the sidelines of the dance floor. “Looks like the guys are having fun already.”

There was something about how Liam said it that drew Rylie’s attention to him. He looked content, but it seemed that it was more out of his friends’ happiness than his own. She returned her gaze to his friends on the dance floor. “I bet you’re used to putting everyone else first.”

Liam turned towards her, startled. “And why would you say that?”

Rylie shrugged nonchalantly, but she chose her words carefully in case he took it the wrong way. “I can tell. I’m good at reading people.” She could see him patiently looking at her from the corner of her eye, expecting her to elaborate. She took a deep breath and plunged in. “You said ‘the guys are having fun’, which suggests that you don’t consider yourself a part of said group that’s having a blast. Plus, you are here instead of out there on the dance floor with them.” Rylie turned towards him, relieved that he didn’t seem upset by what she said. “So, forget about your friends for a minute. What about you ? Do you like it here?”

To her surprise, Liam actually gave her question some thought. “What I’m enjoying most is the company. And I believe I owe you a drink...So what’ll the lady have?”

Rylie gave him a look that said that she was not impressed by his deflection. “So that’s a no,” she answered directly for him, but smiled at the implication that she was a part of making it worthwhile for him. “But I’m glad I make up for it.” Rylie picked up the drink menu and looked through it. “Hmm, I think I’ll have a flaming cocktail.”

“Let’s make that two,” Liam said as he lifted a hand to signal for service.

A few minutes later their drinks were delivered, and Liam carefully handed Rylie a drink before picking up his own. “Careful. We’re playing with fire here…” Liam warned.

Part of Rylie wondered if Liam meant more than just the drinks, and figured she was overthinking things. “That’s what makes it fun!” Rylie said as she raised her glass. “To enjoying company.”

Liam smiled as he also lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses together before they both blew out the fire from their drinks and drank.

“Mmmm, this is good. Thank you, Liam. I guess this makes us even.”

Liam stilled for a moment before he looked down, thinking. “Hmm…you’re right. Now I’ll have to find some other excuse to get you to stay.”

Rylie felt her face heat up again and she reached over to place a hand on Liam’s knee so he’d see it and look up at her. “You don’t need an excuse. Turns out...I’m having fun. Clubs aren’t really my scene, and I thought I’d be dead tired after a 16 hour shift but you, and your friends…it’s like you give me energy, give me life.” She laughed at how cheesy that must’ve sounded, but it did finally make Liam look up at her. Her eyes sparkled with how in awe he was, inadvertently proving her point. “I guess there is something to having good company that could make anything better.”

“I’m very happy to hear that.” Liam laughed as Rylie tried to wave off his comment, squeezing the hand that was still on his knee. “Honestly. Well, not about you working for 16 hours, that seems…excessive, but…Hanging out with you is the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.”

“Yikes! I mean, that’s sweet of you to say, but as amazing as I am I think that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much if I’m the highlight of your trip.”

Liam let out a sigh, sitting back in his seat as he gently swirled his glass, contemplatively watching the liquid swish in a circular motion. “It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do one thing in particular while I was here…”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s...well...” Liam laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Rylie remembered him doing it back at the bar, too; it seemed to be something he did when he was embarrassed. “You’re probably going to think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty...It wasn’t really in the guys’ plan, so we just never got around to it. And now it’s my last day here...I don’t mean to sound so ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelor party. They’ve done their best, but I’m not in the mood to celebrate.”

Rylie froze in shock as the entirety of what Liam had said hit her. She must’ve stayed that way for some time, because after a while Liam looked up from his drink and leaned forward in his seat towards her, a worried expression on his face. “Rylie?”

Rylie blinked and looked at him, attempting to smile. “Yeah, no, hi, I’m here. Sorry. There’s just… a lot to unpack in what you said. I…didn’t realize this is your bachelor party.” Aside from the fact that she had assumed the husband-to-be was Tariq, with the way Liam had been acting towards her she thought… But maybe it was all in my head. Still, she shouldn’t have been surprised; it should’ve been obvious that someone as great as Liam was already taken. Besides, she told herself not to fall for him, and now she had a really good reason not to.

Nothing’s changed.

The next time Rylie smiled, it was more genuine. “Congratulations.”

It was Liam’s turn to fail miserably at looking happy. “If you knew the whole story, you might not congratulate me so quickly.”

Rylie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Oh?”

“I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet...only that I’ll have to pick my fiancée by the end of the year.”

“Okay…” Rylie said slowly. “What does that even mean? This sounds like a cross between an arranged marriage and ‘The Bachelor’.”

Liam seemed to struggle internally over something before he said, “The truth is, Rylie...I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

Rylie choked on the drink she had just taken a sip of. “You’re a prince ?” she coughed out. “Am I being Punk’d right now?”

“I’m unsure of what a ‘Punk’d’ is but I can assure you that I’m telling you the truth.”

“Like you’ve been telling the truth up until now?” Rylie retorted, but her voice had less of a bite than it could have as she was distracted by the first part of what Liam had said. “But…it all makes sense now. The pop culture references and the wine, the way you guys act and the reaction to my clothes…all sort of fits with the sheltered court life, right? I believe you, Liam…if that is your real name,” Rylie joked lightly, a small smile on her face.

Liam let out a sigh of relief that she not only believed him, but wasn’t terribly mad at him, too. “It is, I promise.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, if you didn’t trust me or thought I was a threat you wouldn’t have invited me out with you guys in the first place. Or why tell me at all? You could’ve gone back to… Cordonia?” At Liam’s nod, Rylie continued, “And I would be none the wiser. Just…why?”

Liam clasped his hands together and looked down at them as he tried to find the words to explain. “I do trust you, which is crazy and scary and right all at once. That’s why I told you; I felt you deserved the truth, especially since you also put your trust in me by being here. As for why I wasn’t more upfront with you…” Liam moved his gaze back to her.

“I’m not normally allowed to go around without the Royal Guard, and I was only allowed out on the condition that I kept my identity a secret. But perhaps more than that, just for one day, I wanted to be free. I’m very aware that I have a duty to the monarchy. I’ve never known anything else.”

“Oh, Liam, I’m so sorry.” Rylie reached out and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. “Your secret is safe with me. I guess living the fairy tale life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?” As she pulled away, she gasped. “And I gravely underestimated you putting other people first; you literally put an entire country of people before yourself.”

Liam laughed softly. “Being royal isn’t as bad as I just made it sound, it’s just not as devoid of responsibilities or one party after another like people think it is. But I wouldn’t trade it in for anything in the world.”

“Spoken like a true prince,” Rylie teased.

Liam smiled. “But what about you? You could be anything, do anything. What drives you, Rylie?”

“Being a peasant is not a walk in the park either, or have you forgotten my 16 hour shift? But…I’m sort of doing what I want now, in a way. I want to see the world. Cover the earth before it covers me, you know?”

“Where have you been so far?”

“Here.” At Liam’s confused look, Rylie laughed. “You’re not the only one who isn’t a native New Yorker. I’m actually from Canada. I went to university here and then once I graduated I just…never left. I’m saving up, and one day I’m going to see everything. The Northern Lights, the Eiffel Tower, Machu Picchu…there’s so many different people to meet, different cultures to immerse myself in...”

The look Liam got sometimes when he looked at her was back again, like he couldn’t believe she was real. “That’s beautiful, Rylie.”

Suddenly, Maxwell’s voice drifted over to them from the dance floor, and they spotted the guys still out there, now mingling with the other club-goers. “Come on, Drake. Show off those moves!”

“Another bottle of champagne!” Tariq yelled. “Who knew we’d find a decent vintage here?”

“Looks like your friends are having fun,” Rylie commented.

“Good. I’m happy for them. They deserve to have fun... Tomorrow, it’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season.” Liam looked about as somber as he sounded.

Rylie frowned. She had no idea what Cordonia’s social season consisted of, but she was pretty sure what Liam would be going through would be worse than his friends. After all, he was the one that seemed to have a deadline for a marriage to someone he didn’t even know yet. If anyone deserves to have fun on their final night of freedom, it’s Liam. And she was going to give it to him. A plan was already forming in her mind. “But it’s not tomorrow yet…”

It was almost as if Liam could hear that she was up to something from the tone of her voice. “What are you suggesting?” he asked, equal parts intrigued and dubious.

“You said you wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. Let’s do it! I know a place where we can catch a boat tour. Best view in town.”

“Right now?” Liam checked his wristwatch. “But it’s way past midnight. Won’t all the tours be closed?”

Rylie picked up her phone to also check the time. “Oh...right. I forgot how late it’s gotten.” She paused only for a second before she unlocked her phone and began texting someone. “In that case...you’re lucky I can cash in a favour.”

“A favour?” Liam repeated as she watched her work, noise chiming from her phone every few seconds. “And just like that, you can get us on a tour boat after midnight to see the Statue of Liberty?”

“Well, maybe a few favours, actually, but I have some friends who owe me. It won’t be easy, but I know this is important to you, so...” With a flourish of taps, Rylie lowered her phone and grinned at him. “Let’s go!”

Liam blinked and looked up as Rylie got to her feet. “Right now?” he said again, still thrown over the fact that she would go through all this trouble just for him.

“It’s only getting later every minute we wait. Besides,” Rylie glanced back at the dance floor and his friends who were still partying hard. “It looks like the guys are busy enough. I bet they won’t even notice you’re gone; they haven’t come by our table since we got here.”

Liam seemed to mull over that fact for a bit, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he kept his eyes on her. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Nope,” Rylie said, popping the ‘p’.

With a nod, Liam got to his feet. “Then I happily surrender to your demands.”

“Wait, really?” It was Rylie’s turn to be shocked as she looked up at him. She had hoped he would agree, but after hearing all the limitations he had she wasn’t sure he could.

Liam laughed at her surprised reaction. “Well, I will have to let the guys know that we’re going, but I can do that after we’ve already left. Besides, I’m finding it hard to say no to you, but even more than that, I’m finding that I don’t want to.”

Rylie’s heart swelled and she knew she was a goner no matter how much her brain was trying to tell her not to. Scratch that, everything’s changed. She was going to be heartbroken in the morning, but that was a problem for her future self. She was going to enjoy this moment right now until her proverbial carriage turned into a pumpkin. “Then let’s get going.”

After settling their tab, Rylie took Liam’s hand and led the way out of the club. “Now,” she started to explain as they walked, “we will have to take an Uber this time, but that’s only so that the limo’s free if your friends want to come get you. We’ll tell your driver where we’re going so he’ll know where to bring them.”

As they stopped by the curbside, Liam squeezed her hand. “Rylie, that’s so incredibly thoughtful of you.” Rylie shrugged as if it was nothing even though it meant so much to him.

“I’m not here to cause an international incident,” she teased. “Just let your driver know it’ll be at the corner of Old Fulton and Furman Street. I’ll order the Uber now.”

Not long after Liam had called to tell his driver the plan and texted his friends where he had gone and instructions on how to reach him, their Uber arrived and a short ride later they were getting out at the intersection she had mentioned. It was a short walk from there to the docks, the twinkling lights from Manhattan greeting them across the water from where they stood.

“…And here we wait,” Rylie said as she folded her arms atop the wooden railing that lined the docks.

Liam mimicked her movements as he stood beside her, his arms just a few inches from touching her own. “For?”

“For the magical boat I’ve summoned just for you.”

“No magic carpet tonight?”

“I’m afraid my monkey’s currently taking it for a joy ride.”

The two of them looked at each other and laughed, though while Rylie returned her gaze to the skyline Liam kept his eyes on her. “Not a bad view…” he murmured, tracing every line of her face as if to commit her vision to memory.

“Yeah, I like how—” Rylie stopped as she turned back towards Liam and found him still staring at her. “Oh, that’s so cheesy,” she teased.

Liam smiled, unashamed that he was caught looking. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Feeling a blush creep up her cheeks, Rylie elbowed him lightly. “I’d say the same but I feel like you hear that from enough people already. Don’t want your head getting too big for your crown.”

Liam laughed before he shrugged. “Perhaps, but it’s an empty compliment coming from them. I feel like it’d actually be true, actually mean something, if it came from you.”

Rylie swallowed. “Then…I think I have the best view in the whole city right now.” He smiled, and she thought she had gone blind for a second. “You could definitely light up all of New York with that smile for sure. I’ve been thinking that all night.”

It was Liam’s turn to blush, and he ducked his head down as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I…thank you, Rylie.”

“Y-yeah, of course, no problem.” Rylie cleared her throat before spinning around so that her back was leaning against the railing instead. “Now, I’m dying to know why you’re so eager to see the Statue of Liberty.”

He lifted his head to look at her again. “Can’t you guess?”

She knew what the Statue of Liberty was supposed to mean, and though she never thought it’d apply to him, it also did in the most basic way. “…Because she symbolizes freedom.”

Liam nodded before he looked out towards Manhattan. “Freedom is something that I’ve always wanted. But I’ve always known that my role would require me to give up much of what I desire.”

It was one thing to see this dilemma in movies, where it was only a speedbump in the overall story and things eventually all worked out by the end credits, but it was another to actually know someone in real life going through the exact same issues and not being able to just circumvent it as easily because real lives were at stake. Still, Rylie couldn’t help but wish there was something Liam could do about his situation. “But you’re the prince. Can’t you do what you want, at least some of the time?”

Liam let out a hollow laugh and shook his head. “As a member of the royal family, my actions reflect on my house and all of Cordonia. It’s something I’ve never been allowed to forget. No matter how badly I might want to.” He looked back at her for one long moment before turning away again.

Rylie’s heart ached for him. She hated seeing others in pain and not being able to help them. “Liam…”

She reached out to touch his arm, but before she could there was a loud blast of a horn. They both looked out across the water and noticed a tour boat pulling up.

“There’s our ride,” Rylie announced, glancing back at Liam to check if he was okay. He gave her a weak smile and a nod and she led them down the ramp to where the boat was waiting.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” the man tying the boat to shore said as he caught sight of Rylie.

Rylie grinned and gave him a tight hug. “Paul, long time no see! And Chris, miss you!” She waved at the captain who stood by the steering wheel, waving back. “Spending all your time out on the water instead of on land, it’s no wonder I never see you.”

“You only have yourself to blame for that. I wouldn’t even have this gig if it weren’t for you.”

“And soon we’ll have a boat thanks to you, too,” Chris yelled from the bridge.

“Really? They agreed to sell it to you guys? That’s fantastic!”

“Hell yeah! But we could be here ‘till the sun rises catching up, and that’s not what you’re here for.” Paul not-so-subtlety raised his eyebrows towards Liam.

“Ah, that’s right! Paul, Chris, this is Liam. Liam, Paul and Chris.” Rylie introduced, taking a step back as the men waved and shook hands and exchanged ‘nice to meet you’.

“You must be something special if Rylie’s going all out on a first date,” Paul commented as he moved to guide him on board but Liam waved him off, expertly getting on before turning to offer a hand to help Rylie.

“We’re not—”

“I’m not—”

Rylie and Liam looked at each other as they spoke at the same time before laughing.

“Well, he is special,” Rylie said as she took Liam’s hand and stepped onto the boat.

“You’re still too kind,” Liam insisted.

“And you’re still too modest,” Rylie countered, and Paul laughed at their antics.

“You two are so cute. Now, I would be a horrible tour operator if I didn’t offer commentary during our trip, if you are so inclined to accept.”

Liam and Rylie glanced at each other and she shrugged. “It’s your call.”

“The boat ride alone is already so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more,” Liam declined politely.

“Besides, I didn’t cash in all my favours just to owe you one,” Rylie joked, trying to help Liam feel less guilty.

“It would’ve been on the house, thank you very much, but I can tell when people are trying to get rid of me for some alone time,” Paul winked before he clapped to signal Chris. “We’ll be heading off shortly, enjoy your trip!”

“Thank you,” Liam and Rylie chorused together even as Rylie rolled her eyes at the ‘alone time’ comment.

“Shall we?” she said to Liam before leading the way towards the starboard side of the ship where the Statue of Liberty would be seen.

As they settled into a spot and the boat began moving, Liam spoke. “As bad as this is going to sound, a part of me didn’t think you’d pull this off.”

Rylie laughed. It did sound a little bad, but she wasn’t too surprised. If she didn’t know herself she’d have thought the same thing. “Oh, savage! You just don’t know me very well.”

“You’re right,” Liam admitted earnestly, turning towards her, “But I’d like to fix that. You’re fascinating, Rylie. Why are you doing this for me?”

“You seemed like you needed it,” Rylie said simply, as if she hadn’t just moved heaven and earth to make sure he saw the Statue in the last few hours he had left in the country. But for her, it was that simple. Liam was someone in need, she had the means to help him, so she did.

“That’s... so sweet of you. To be honest, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

“Really?” Rylie snorted. “Come on, you’re a prince. I bet people do things for you all the time.”

“I know what you’re thinking; I do get all the perks that come with being royalty. But it’s a lot like their compliments, given in hopes of getting something else in return because they see my crown before they see the person beneath it. No one’s ever seen me as just... me . No one’s ever listened to me the way you do. No one’s ever come up with a spur-of-the-moment plan to make my dreams come true.”

“Liam...how could I not see you? How can I not see the man who was first to call me by my name instead of by my job description? Or the man who personally came to apologize on behalf of his friends and then goes and puts said friends’ wants above his own at his own bachelor party? Those qualities are what makes you amazing, Liam, not your crown, and that’s someone who deserves happiness just like everyone else.”

“Rylie…”

“So, what else do you dream about? Maybe I can go two for two.”

Liam smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved his gaze back towards the swirling mist around them. “Finding someone. Someone who can be the queen that Cordonia needs.”

“And...also someone you fall in love with, right?” Rylie added when it became obvious he wasn’t going to.

Liam was actively trying not to look at her now. “That’s never been part of the criteria that the Cordonian Council uses.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t have both, Liam.”

“...Love is one luxury I cannot afford, especially as a prince,” he whispered, so low that Rylie wasn’t even sure he had said anything.

Before she could ask him, they felt the boat slow down and the mists dramatically begin to part revealing the Statue of Liberty. Liam made a noise that suspiciously sounded like a gasp at the site of it, and Rylie found herself more captivated watching his reaction to that Statue than the Statue itself (and not only because she’d seen it thousands of times already). “So, what do you think?”

Liam’s eyes were alit with wonder. “ Magnificent. I’ve heard that art has meaning because of what it makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you.”

“And?”

“And right now, looking at this view with you, I feel like anything is possible.” He finally looked back at her, practically glowing from the inside out. “Thank you for this moment, Rylie. This feeling...this means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Liam…”

“I want you to know that I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart.”

It hurt to hear how resigned he sounded about his situation and she mourned how it sounded like he was saying goodbye not only to her, but to this part of him that was able to be free for just a few hours. A lack of privacy, a lack of freedom...being born royal came at such a high cost without the chance to decide if you even wanted it. But surely not being able to choose that one person you can be you with, having to kill a part of yourself to live that life...that was too much of a sacrifice.“You can live that way too.” Rylie hoped speaking it out into the universe would make it real.

Liam shook his head sadly. “If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia.”

If this was the last moment Liam was going to have as a free man, it was going to end on a high note. “Well, we’re not in Cordonia now…” 

Rylie looked up and locked eyes with him and Liam felt himself being drawn down towards her, helpless as he surrendered to her gravitational pull. There was only a moment of hesitation as their lips hovered over one another before they kissed deeply. Her hands clutched desperately to the front of his jacket as both of his hands cupped her face, one hand eventually drifting down to the small of her back to press her closer towards him as they continued to kiss. 

As the need for oxygen began to make itself known Rylie pulled away, but Liam, unable or unwilling to part from her, stayed close by, leaning his forehead against hers as they both gasped for air.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Liam said breathlessly, still recovering.

“I try,” Rylie said with just as much difficulty.

Liam closed his eyes and gently rubbed his nose against hers in an eskimo kiss. “I’m glad to have met you, Rylie,” he spoke against her lips. “I’ll never forget this night…”

Rylie gave him a small smile. “Even when you’re surrounded by beautiful women going on group dates to private beaches?”

“Especially then,” he promised before pulling back to look at her properly. “How did you…?”

“I did watch one season of ‘The Bachelor’; figured it was close enough to whatever you’ll be doing,” she joked.

Liam chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she rested her head against his shoulder. He placed a kiss atop her head, and together they enjoyed the rest of the boat ride in comfortable silence, basking in each other’s company until they were once again back at shore.

“All right lovebirds! That concludes our tour. I hope you enjoyed the ride,” Paul said as the two of them approached him by the edge of the boat as he secured it to the docks.

“It was everything I could have ever dreamed of and more,” Liam praised, shaking his hand. “Thank you.”

“We really appreciate it,” Rylie started, but Paul raised a hand up to stop her from continuing.

“Don’t mention it. What’re friends for? Just don’t be a stranger no more!”

Rylie smiled at Paul before giving him another hug. “I won’t.”

After Liam climbed out of the boat he helped Rylie up, and with their hands intertwined they made their way through the docks and along the sidewalk towards the street.

“Liam!”

Ahead, at the corner where they had told the driver to drop the guys off, was Drake, who had both hands cupping his mouth to amplify his voice and was now lowering them as he saw he had grabbed their attention. Close behind him stood Maxwell, who raised a hand to wave. Tariq stood by the waiting limo, one hand braced against the side as he leaned on it.

Liam and Rylie waved back with their free hand before slowing to a stop a small distance away so they could have some privacy.

“Looks like your ride is here,” Rylie said.

“You mean our ride. We can drop you off—” At the shake of Rylie’s head, Liam stopped speaking.

“I think it’s best if we parted ways here,” she said as she let go of his hand, feeling empty and cold the moment she did.

“Rylie—”

“It’d be suspicious if I got dropped off by a limo in my neighbourhood.”

“Who’s going to see at this time of night?”

“New York’s the city that never sleeps, remember? Do you really want to risk it?”

Liam did, Rylie could tell from the look in his eyes, but she could also see the internal struggle going on in his head between the logic of her words and what his heart wanted to do. She pushed further, knowing it was in his best interest to let her go.

“I can handle myself, remember? Besides, I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about than me.”

“A prince can multi-task, you know.” Despite his argument Liam sighed, conceding as he always seemed to do with her. “But at the risk of me not only underestimating you yet again but also being called a liar, I trust you to get home safely.”

“You too.”

Liam nodded, knowing she meant Cordonia and not his hotel room.

“And I want you to know that I’m glad I met you too, Liam. I’ll never forget you .” Rylie couldn’t help but laugh at how she was mimicking the words he had told her on the boat, mirroring the way they had copied each other back at the bar. That felt like ages ago. At Liam’s small smile, she knew he was making the connection too. “And hey, if you televise your wedding like all the other popular royals do I will definitely tune in.”

That made Liam laugh, and he shook his head at her ability to do that even now. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Please tell your friends that it was nice meeting them.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

“I dunno, Grumpy Cat might be a tough sell.”

Confused, Liam turned around at Rylie’s head nod to see Drake frowning at them now and he had to stifle another laugh. “I don’t think that nickname will help you.”

“I said what I said. Oh! Tell Maxwell I said that, he’ll be sad he missed it.”

“I will.” His smile faded, and he was somber once more. “Goodbye, Rylie.”

Rylie hated goodbyes so instead she said, “Take care, Liam.”

Liam bowed his head and made his way towards his friends. She waved as each of them got into the limo, lowering her hand to wrap her arms around herself as they drove away. She stood there until she could no longer see their taillights, just as a tower bell in the distance rang, signaling a new hour, the end of their fairytale night.

Rylie let out a breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding.

“I hope you find your happily ever after.”

[ktbensondc]

Film Studies The Basics by Amy Villarejo Pages 4 - 53

Villarejo remarks of cinema that if the images it presents ‘delight or thrill, agitate or unnerve’ then these images ‘offer themselves for analysis’. She further challenges the reader to take notice of ‘what we take to be given true’ - i.e. the run time, the tie-ins, the visual style - to make accurate judgement and analysis on any specific film.

Film Language

To make accurate analyses of a film, it’s imperative to first understand its language. As Villarejo muses ‘Film is structured like a language. Or is it?’. Every film is undoubtedly composed of ‘fundamental units’ called shots, and every film relies on edits to join each shot together into longer strings called ‘sequences’. Villarejo likens this to the way words are stringed together to create sentences. Therefore, the conventions of cinema act as a form of ‘grammar’ for film.

In regards to editing, Villarejo notes that flashbacks or ‘temporal ellipses’ are signalled with a ‘dissolve’. This is a convention of film. Another example is the edit ‘iris’ which the author suggests has in recent years come to ‘signify “old-fashioned”’ due to its association with silent narrative cinema and ‘Looney Tunes’. 

The way films use editing or conventions or story structures can change the form of the film. Villarejo notes that some films are 

‘like stories, others more like novels or serials. Some films seem poetic; others, striving perhaps toward profundity, seem simply nonsensical. Some documentary films want their language to seem transparent, as much of the language of journalism aspiers to be, while other films want us to do nothing more than to notice their language, as with filmic explorations of the avant-garde and other experimental makers.’

Screen duration is an important factor of film and aids, much like everything else that comes together to create a film, in the language. Films will ‘cut out and rearrange time as they unfold in time’ and this is to ‘enlist our sensations, perceptions and responses’ as the movie unfolds. Films play on what the audience already knows, their own personal experiences to ‘become part’ of the individual’s history as they appeal to the audience’s linguistic being. Villarejo suggests that an individual’s experience may ‘originate in our linguistic habits and expectations’. For example, a person may quote famous movie lines to offer insight to their own emotions. Films bear a universal understanding and audiences can cherry pick lines to use in their own lives and situational experiences so that others will understand their personal feelings. 

Villarejo states that the cinema endures because it appeals to the way ‘we move through the world’ and she remarks that ‘cinema’s reach is everywhere’. She remarks how cinema ‘bridges the gap’ between what the audience knows from their experiences, to what they will never know, ‘between invention and repetition’. Cinema imprints itself onto the audience and as a result, the audience will ‘feel through the language of cinema’ - through the ‘bone-chilling effects of the thriller’ or through crying at particularly poignant or powerful moments. 

In terms of film analysis, Villarejo demands the reader to constantly ask of their work ‘”so what?”’. Ask about the function of each element that is brought into the analysis, what results from the choices the films makes, why does one element create a particular emotion, or how does another convince the audience of its realism.

Mise-en-scène

The mise-en-scène is everything that is ‘encompassed’ by the frame. Within the mise-en-scène, Villarejo describes that this is where the ‘”world of the film”’ is manifested - ‘its feel, its attitude toward detail, its sense of its own reality against which we can measure its representation’. (Villarejo reminds that reality in this context refers to the ‘functions’ of the mise-en-scène, rather than how comparable an element is to a ‘presumed “real world”’. While Spadoni pointed to four components of the mise-en-scène, Villarejo discusses six: setting (set and props), lighting, costume, hair, make-up, and figure behaviour.

Setting and Props

A setting ‘needn’t be constructed’ and filmmakers can use readily available sets by shooting on location.However, just because the film uses settings found in the real world, ‘does not mean that the world of the film thus created is not constructed or is simply “realistic”’. Shooting on location requires ‘deliberate choices’. 

Another option is to use a sound stage - this is usually reserved for films with ‘significant budgets’ as it gives the ability to control the lighting and sound more accurately.

Settings can therefore ‘blend’ found and constructed elements. Props help to ‘amplify a mood’ and can give ‘further definition’ to a setting or ‘call attention to detail within a larger scene’. Props can ‘serve an overt narrative function’ such as implying something relating to a theme of the film, or what a particular moment may signify. However, props may also serve ‘less overt narrative functions’ by condensing meaning without declaring it boldly.

Lighting

Lighting, similar to props, can establish a ‘mood’ and can ‘direct attention to detail’. For example, in a film noir (which translates to dark film), the genre is descriptive of its settings, its theme of mystery, and ‘figuratively of its investigations of shady lives and dark themes inaugurating the post-war landscape’.

Villarejo describes lighting as an ‘illusion’ which can go seemingly unnoticed by the audience for either they know little about lighting, or filmmakers can masterfully manipulate it. Therefore, lighting becomes easily overlooked despite it taking a lot of work. The author goes on to describe the three-point lighting system, which is still popular in modern films. This systems relies on ‘a key light, a fill light, and a backlight’ to balance the lighting and create a naturalistic effect. The key light ‘provides the primary or key light source’. This light illuminates the shot’s subject most strongly and will cast the strongest shadows. A fill light will be positioned near the camera ‘roughly 120°’ from the key light. This light fills in the shadows caused by the key light, softening the harsher shadows on the subject and its surroundings. The backlight ‘comes from behind the subject’ to counterbalance the brightness of the key light. Varying lighting through intensity and direction, filmmakers are able to ‘achieve outstanding variety of effect’. High-key lighting is frequently used in horror and mystery films for its high contrast.

In the former case, the high-key style contributes to a worldview that values transparency, clarity, intelligibility; the most extreme example of high-key lighting is the television situation comedy. In the latter case, lighting helps to gesture toward the underworld, the shadowy world, uncertainty, fear, or evil.

Lighting can also be used to suggest a character’s motives, emotions, morals, how the audience should feel when they see the character. Underlighting (putting a light beneath a person’s face) will create a ‘spooky or sinister effect’ while back lighting (putting the light behind someone) will create a ‘halo around the hair, suggesting the character’s saintliness’. A kicker (backlighting on the subject’s temple) ‘reveals chiselled cheekbones’ and an eye light (lighting from the front, a light placed on the camera) ‘creates a glamorous twinkle’.

Costume and Hair

Genre, as described by Villarejo, offers an ‘easy inroad to constuming’. Genres provide categories for films that share in on very specific conventions of that specific genre and this makes costuming a key element in understanding a film. Genre is an ‘effect of repetition’. The audience learns the ‘codes’ and therefore they can easily understand the type of story that will play out.

Costumes can signify a character’s personality, or their role in the story (if they are the villain, or hero for example). They can also be used to suggest their mental state. Hair styling can also do this.

The details that go into costume and hair add to the ‘believability of a film’s world’. However, good costume design, Villarejo points out, is not based solely on historical accuracy.

Make-up

Make-up is an element of the ‘larger effect of glamor’, an effect that remains concealed as a process and as labour. The use of make-up in film often portrays the actors to look ‘”naturally”’ better than people from real life. The hard work of creating and keeping up this appearance is ‘rendered invisible’ through the ‘mechanics of film stardom’. 

Actors are also selected for their looks to portray specific characters. Make-up can aid in perfecting the type of look filmmakers want for their characters. Actors ‘communicate powerfully through their screen presence’. Villarejo quotes Robert Towne:

For gifted movie actors affect us most, I believe, not by talking, fighting, fucking, killing, cursing or cross dressing. They do it by being photographed... Great movie actors have features that are ruthlessly efficient... The point is that a fine actor on screen conveys a staggering amount of information before he ever opens his mouth.

Make-up emphasises the features required for the purposes of photography.

Figure Behaviour

Figure behaviour describes the ‘movement, expressions, or actions’ of the actors within the mise-en-scène (whether human or otherwise). Villarejo notes that most analyses actors focuses on the ‘placement’ of actors within a frame and the narrative motivation for a character’s expression.

Cinematography

Villarejo states that to notice an element of the mise-en-scène is to ‘notice an element of cinematography’ as everything put in to a shot is recorded by a camera. Anything to do with the camera ‘belongs to the realm of cinematography’. The camera is specifically placed to include certain elements and to exclude others. What the camera excludes is just as important as what the camera includes. These choices involve the ‘act of framing the profilmic event’ or whatever lies in front of the camera. Films rely on ‘inclusion and exclusion for every frame’.

The camera records a shot from a specific ‘camera distance’ and can record the action through a ‘changing camera angle’. Villarejo notes that stationary cameras may offer a way to direct the audience’s eye by changing focus to ‘emphasise a particular plane or planes within the camera’s depth of field’. Moreover, the camera’s angle and distance may not remain constant throughout a shot and may change with the ‘camera’s movement’.

The author states about framing that it is ‘one of the most important elements of cinema’ going on to quote Gilles Deleuze:

the frame teaches us that the image is not just given to us to be seen. It is legible as well as visible

Moreover, Villarejo goes on to include Ronald Bogue’s summary of five elements of framing, used to explore framing’s function:

The frame ‘provides information’. The image becomes ‘”saturated”’ the more information fills the frame, and it becomes ‘”rarefied”’ the less information fills the frame.

The frame is a limiting border and can function ‘geometrically or dynamically’. Elements in a frame are organised in a ‘fixed compositional grid’ of horizontal, vertical, and diagonal lines. This is the frame’s geometric function and may use ‘canted framing’ (in which the horizontal axis appears tilted) to indicate something is “off”. 

The frame ‘both separates and unites’ individual elements. Parts can be related geometrically or dynamically. Having the horizon constantly on display is a form of relating elements geometrically, whereas ‘images of fog or shadows provide movement which can unite’ the elements in the frame dynamically.

‘Every frame implies an “angle of framing” or implicit point of view’ and the point of view may have narrative motivation, or it may be something for the audience to wonder about. The idea is to question from whose point of view and from what position is the frame being presented.

The frame both ‘includes and excludes’. Every frame ‘determines an “out of field” beyond the framed image’ and Villarejo points to the work of Noel Burch to explain. Burch notes six axes in the out of field: ‘above or below the frame, to the right or left, in depth away from the camera or toward and beyond it’ while also recognising Deleuze’s proposal of an ‘absolute out of field of durée , or duration’ in addition to the spatial out of field.

However, framing depends on other cinematography choices as well. ‘Every placement of the camera can be analyzed’ particularly in reference to the distance between the camera and its subject. By referencing how the human body is framed, there are several reference points for a shot:

‘the extreme long shot’ - the full human figure is very far away and ‘barely’ distinguishable

‘the long shot’ - the full human figure is more distinguishable but remains in the background

‘the medium long shot’ - the human is framed from the knees up

‘the medium shot’ - the human is framed from the waist up

‘the medium close-up’ - the human is framed from the chest up

‘the close-up’ - the camera ‘isolates’ a portion of a person - typically their face

‘the extreme close-up’ - only a portion of the face is framed (i.e. an eye)

These descriptions of shots do not have to include a human, this is simply how the language of film analysis has evolved.

What is seen of a subject or subjects in a shot is also dependent on the ‘manipulation of light and of focus’. This relies on the specific selection of a ‘camera lens’ and the ‘film stock for its sensitivity to light’. Camera lens come in various ‘focal lengths’ which have the ability to alter or distort perceptions of depth and scale:

shot focus / wide angle lens - exaggerate depth by bending straight lines at the fringes of the frame to create distortions such as the ‘”fishbowl”’ effect

middle focal length lens - avoid distortion and reproduce Renaissance perspective

long focal length / telephoto lens - flatten depth and magnify events at a distance, allowing the audience to see details from very far away

These lenses have ‘fixed focal length’ (called prime lenses) which is unlike a ‘zoom lens’ which allows the change of ‘focal length’ over the ‘course of a single shot’. ‘Racking’ (changing) focus over the duration of a shot can ‘simulate camera movement’ whereby the camera appears to be closer to the subject than it really is, changing from a medium long shot to a close-up while the camera remains stationary. 

Film stocks ‘vary as to their responsiveness’ to the amount and type of light source - ‘exposure’ depends on the ‘calibration of light source, stock, and aperture’. This controls the amount of light the film is exposed and determines the ‘depth of field’ of the planes in a shot that remain in sharp focus.

There are many forms of camera movement and many ways for cameras to be used to simulate specific types of movement (handheld, for example, which requires the ‘complicated scaffold’ of Steadicam to give ‘operators minute control and balance’). Types of camera movement include:

Panning - the camera rotates on a vertical axis; the camera remains in a stationary position but rotates left to right

Tilting - the camera rotates on a horizontal axis; the camera remains in a stationary positions but rotates up and down

‘Traveling’ (the american spelling) - the camera is not in a stationary position and ‘reframes’ as it moves. Dollying is the same camera movement for instead the camera is on a dolly or another wheeled ‘contraption’

Tracking - when the dolly travels on tracks to capture a shot

Trucking - the camera travels on a truck or other vehicle on the ground

Craning - when the camera leaves the ground, usually by crane

Camera movement can move in any direction - forward, back, left, right, up, and down, or in circular motions, and these movements can vary in ‘speed’.

‘Shot duration’, Villarejo explains, ‘becomes an important companion to mobile framing’ and can influence the relationship between the audience and the specific shot.

The ‘process shot’ (sometimes known as the composite shot) are created through special effects by layering multiple images into a single shot. This effect can be made in the camera by exposing a single strip of film multiple times, thereby ‘creating the effect of superimposition’. This kind of effect can be used to create ghosts or Predator’s invisibility for example. ‘Rear projection’ and ‘frontal projection’ became a common practice in the 1920′s for films with low budgets. Rear projection required the use of a ‘translucent screen’ where location footage would be projected and actors would carry out the scene in front. 

‘Matte shots’ is another way of combining multiple images into a single shot. A matte painting, or a blue screen will replace a section of the frame where an ‘imaginary world’ would be ‘superimposed’ onto it. ‘Within a single shot, world combine’.

Editing

Editing is the term for the technique and logic of ‘joining shots together into larger strings or sequences’.Most Hollywood films ‘employ shots fewer than ten second in duration’ according to Villarejo, and this value changes depending on country. In total, there are five different types of edit:

Cut - this is the most common and is where the first shot ‘clearly ends’ where the second shot begins

Dissolve - joins two shots together by ‘blending’ them. The end of the first shot, and the beginning of the second are ‘superimposed upon the screen’

Fade - works in two ways - Fade-in lightens the shot from a black or other colour and a Fade-out darkens to black. Fades are recognised as opening or closing a film

Wipe - a ‘boundary line’ replaces the first shot with the second. This line can be vertical, horizontal, or any other ‘sort of whimsical graphic’

Iris - an opening or closing of the screen to a circle or other geometric

Shots tend to have rhythmic, spatial, temporal, and/or graphic relationships between them. These provide the ‘framework’ for how filmmakers shape sequences. Different types of movies use these styles of editing differently. For example, most films join shots of different lengths together but other films will create a pattern out of the temporal relationship to create a rhythmic effect. ‘Foreshortening shots can build momentum or suspense, for instance while lengthening them can allow for release, meditation, or contemplation’. 

Abstract films will tend to rely more on rhythmic and graphic editing to ‘build their temporal and spatial worlds’. Narrative films will rarely rely on graphic editing, but Villarejo reminds that the ‘juxtaposition of one image to another creates a graphic relationship between them’. A graphic basis that is dominant in narrative films is the ‘graphic match’. This is where the graphic similarities in two shots provide the edit’s justification. In the TV show The Punisher for example, a character jumps from a plane, this cuts directly to tomato sauce being squirted onto a plate, indicating the character’s fate. Narrative films will typically rely more on the temporal and spatial logics of combination. This being because these types of film ‘build imaginary worlds that are more or less coherent in space and time’. 

While the mise-en-scène and cinematography contribute to the ‘sense’ of a film’s world, Villarejo states that it is spatial editing that ‘literally constructs film space’ for the audience. Films join shots together that may have been recorded in completely different places. The continuity is ‘produced by and through film itself’ which Villarejo refers to as an ‘illusion’. Take, for example, the TV show Friends in which a New York apartment complex is shown, and the next shot shows the inside of Monica’s apartment. The apartment is a built set. It is not actually one of the apartments inside the building shown in the first shot. However, the relationship between these two shots will suggest, in the plot of the show, that the apartment is within that building.

Villarejo refers to the ‘”Kuleshov effect”’ as a way to show how spatial editing works. The relationship between shots is inferred by the audience who ‘create connections and combinations from fragments,’ thus generating cause and effect logics or explanations where there is none.

Showing multiple different shots of subjects or setting space to infer they are within one location is an example of ‘establishment, breakdown, re-establishment’. The film offers a space in which the action will take place, and will then break down the space into ‘component parts’. It then re-establishes the location before moving on to a different space.

Another pattern used to show simultaneous action in different spaces is ‘cross-cutting, or parallel editing’ in which the action is one space cuts directly to the action in another, and the scene goes on back and forth. This type of editing is typically used to create ‘suspense’. Villarejo explains cross-cutting as the ‘visual equivalent of “meanwhile”’.

Spatial editing can also ‘embed’ temporal relationships which are made greater by editing that ‘deliberately orients’ its audience into the film world’s time. Narrative films, as Villarejo states, will present stories that take place over centuries, decades, years, months, weeks, days, or even hours. However, it’s rare for a film to ‘unwind in real time’ where screen time ‘corresponds precisely to plot and story time’.

Screen time will typically condense story time, so that the film’s plot ‘cuts out huge swaths of the film’s story’. The “swaths” that are cut out ‘constitute’ temporal ellipses, which is controlled by temporal editing. Temporal editing is what makes the plot time ‘intelligible’ for the audience. It is not always about the ordering of events in the plot, although filmmakers must make decisions about this, i.e. the use of flashbacks or flashforwards. Temporal editing ‘invokes exciting questions’ about ‘inclusion and exclusion, about what kind of cut in time the film seeks to make’.

Most narrative films rely on ‘very explicit beginnings, middles, and ends’ and therefore they ‘obey’ certain conventions to keep the audience oriented in the time and space so the narrative may unfold without distraction. ‘Continuity editing’ is a system of editing where these conventions are ‘solidified over time’. Rules of continuity editing include:

Axis of action - the line drawn through a setting, this is where the action is filmed from

180° rule - where a line is drawn through a setting and the filming takes place on one side of the line thereby keeping the viewer oriented

30° rule - suggests that changes in camera ‘ought to be greater than 30°’ otherwise a cut between angles that is too similar will result in a ‘jump cut’

Shot - reverse shot - the ‘pattern of breaking down space, conversation between characters follow patterns’. Two characters will appear in a shot together before the editor alternates between the individuals, returning every so often to the two shot. This shows the spectator that the characters occupy the same space. This also works through telephone conversations which use cross-cutting. 

Match on action - expands screen space by following a character’s action into a new space, thus preventing any discontinuity that may distract the audience

Eyeline match - when a character looks towards a space that is offscreen, the next shot will be what the character is looking at, ‘uniting expanding screen space and locating characters within it simultaneously’

These rules allow editors to preserve spatial continuity as they rely on patterns (such as the establishment, breakdown, re-establishment mentioned earlier). However, they also ‘build spatial relationships through maintenance of perspective on the action’ as it unfolds. These editing rules preserve the spectator’s understanding of ‘screen direction’.

Continuity editing can work to ‘dispel worries about temporal ellipses’ as explicit cues signal shifts in time. For example, flashbacks may involve a dissolve or graphic matches (a setting in the present, suddenly cuts to the exact same setting now in the past), it may require type on screen to explain explicitly the length of time that has passed. Cuts will tend to suggest ‘continuous linear action’ unfolding in time, while fades will ‘more dramatically’ move the audience from one part in time to the next (from the evening to the morning). Props can also be used to influence the passage of time, as the camera stays still on one moving object. 

Another way to ‘condense time’ is to edit together shots with ‘sufficient similarity’ to create a ‘sense of repetition’ over time. This is known as a ‘montage sequence’ - i.e. a series of news headlines. Montage sequences ‘efficiently compress story time’ while using very little screen time.

Filmmakers consciously decide the best way to show the passage of time, depending on the purposes or what is required of the film.

Sound

Sound functions in more ways than simply ‘accompaniment to the image’. Sound ‘actively shapes how we perceive and interpret the image’. Moreover, sound can ‘direct’ the attention of the audience to what the film wants them to see, or pay attention to, it ‘cues’ the audience to form expectations.

Similar to how elements within the image can ‘function’ as motifs, elements or types of sound can do this as well. Elements or types of sound can extend themselves to clichés: like the crack of thunder signalling a storm, the heightened orchestral music to alert of a villain’s presence. 

Within film analysis there are three types of sound:

Speech

Music

Noise (effects)

Speech can refer to dialogue which Villarejo states is ‘one of narrative film’s most compelling devices’ as it renders a character ‘knowable’ through the actor’s voice and delivery. However speech can ‘serve other masters’ than naturalism, as Villarejo points to V. I. Pudovkin who believed sound may ‘offer a counterpart rather than an accompaniment’ to an image, a ‘subjective route to understand an objective visual presentation’.

Villarejo goes to express that speech brings the audience closer to the ‘subtlety of emotion’, referencing ‘acoustic close-ups’ of particular dialogue to emphasise emotion. This is a post production effect, but the actor’s delivery is also important to recognise.

Typically speech will be given by onscreen characters, therefore it is ‘most frequently diegetic sound’. Speech that would be classed as non-diegetic would be the ‘voice-over commentary’. Non-diegetic sound may also include music that accompanies the image but is understood the belong to a source outside of the onscreen world - the characters cannot hear it. Noises may be placed on the soundtrack for the audience to hear, and not the characters.

Recognising the difference between non-diegetic and diegetic sound in film helps ‘us to understand how sound in narrative film are motivated, how the sound design is constructed’.

Sometimes films can use music in a way that leads the audience to believe it is non-diegetic, but may be revealed later to come from a radio within the narrative world, therefore it is actually diegetic sound. Music, similar to speech, can ‘cue us to emotion’ and can also become a  cliché. However, some films may use music to complicate a film’s narrative, and others may have a musical ‘score’ that can ‘stand on its own’. Villarejo directs attention to Sidney Lumet who believed, generally, that a film score should ‘serve a picture’. Lumet recognises how carefully constructed sound is in film, but sometimes ‘sound and image don’t work together’.

Noise ‘encompasses a world of sound beyond these sounds we think of as “special” effects’. Villarejo states that the world of noise is ‘an intricately built scaffold’ that supports the ‘broader feel of a film’s world’. Every single sound in a film is engineered in order to produce an ‘acoustic landscape’ within a film. Not a ‘single element of noise is simply natural or given’. When the audience can hear the central character’s talking but cannot hear the many conversations of those in the background, it is because they must focus on the central characters in spite of it not being “realistic”. 

Film analysis has terms to ‘characterize variations in acoustic properties’ common to speech, music, and noise:

Loudness - changes in volume, sometimes ‘indicated by the perceived distance’ of the sound source

Pitch - the ‘perceived “highness” or “lowness”’ of a sound

Timbre - the ‘texture’ or ‘feel’ of a sound, i.e. a ‘”nasal”’ or ‘”whiny”’ quality of a voice

Rhythm - ‘beat, pulse, pace, tempo, or pattern of accents’

Fidelity - the extent to which film sound is ‘faithful’ according to the audience’s conventional expectations to its source

Space - not so much whether sound is diegetic or non-diegetic but how it ‘shapes the space’ of what is filmed, how sound ‘creates and defines’ spaces

Sound designers and editors manipulate all of these dimensions of film sound through ‘selection, combination, and alteration’. 

Conclusion

The language of film analysis, Villarejo acknowledges, ‘aids in our understanding’ of watching films closely to notice their ‘construction’.

We may isolate six elements of what is “put in” to a given shot, or of mise-en-scène: setting, lighting, costume, hair, make-up, and figure behaviour. Cinematography encompasses all that is to do with the camera framing, angle, focus, movement, and compositing. The five types of edits (cuts, dissolve, fade, wipe, and iris) serve different functions in different contexts whether within the system of continuity editing associated with the narrative form of classical Hollywood cinema or other cinematic contexts. Finally, the three types of sound (speech, music, and noise) actively shape how we work with images. 

Glossary

Chiaroscuro - in reference to lighting - ‘bold contrasts between light and dark’ Diegetic Sound - ‘sound whose source belongs to the imaginative world of the film’, ‘sound that is understood to issue from that world rather than ours’. Dissolve - an edit that joins two shots by having the first ‘fading while the second gradually appears’ Flashbacks - events that took place in the plot past are interwoven with those of the plot present Flashforwards - the opposite of a flashback Frame - the ‘bounded axes of the image’ Genre - ‘designating films of a common type’ Iris - ‘a round mask that closes to black or that opens to begin a sequence, or that encircles an important detail’ Jump cut - a character appears to jump slightly in the frame Narrative - ‘a chain of events in a cause-effect relationship’ Plot - the events the film presents in the order that is presented Screen Direction - ‘what’s left, what’s right, who’s who in the space, and who’s heading in what direction’ Sequences - ‘a series of shots united in time and space’ Shooting on Location - filming in settings ‘found in the world rather than constructed in the studio’ Shots - ‘fundamental units’ that make a film Sound Stage - a ‘built locale in which every variable of light and sound can be calculated to simulate whatever environment a filmmaker wishes to create’ Story - ‘the whole world of the film, involving events both given and implied’ Voice-over - ‘commentary that issues from another world than that depicted on the screen’

[ander-chey]

American McGee’s Alice Analysis

American McGee's Alice, or simply Alice, is a third-person psychological horror action-adventure game developed by Rogue Entertainment and published by Electronic Arts. It was released on October 6, 2000 for PC and on July 20, 2001 for Mac. A sequel set directly after the events of Alice, titled Alice: Madness Returns was released in June 2011 for the PC, Playstation 3 and Xbox 360.

Designed by American McGee, Alice acts as a macabre and twisted unauthorized sequel to Lewis Carroll's novels, Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, featuring elements from shooter, platformer and horror game genres to give the story a dark yet fun twist. It boasts an unapologetically gory aesthetic, fully realized with graphics well beyond those of competing games at the time.

Alice revolves around the titular character from Carroll’s beloved books as she struggles with mental illness, survivor’s guilt and post-traumatic stress disorder after being the only survivor of a house fire that claimed the lives of her family, leaving her in a mental asylum for ten years. Alice’s madness takes the form of Wonderland, which she had visited twice prior, but now is a twisted and grim caricature of what was previously a delightful nonsense-filled escape from reality and has become rotten and macabre in nature.

American McGee doesn’t romanticize mental illness as other works tend to do, here it’s portrayed as horrific and tragic. The journey Alice takes is that of recovery, something she’s unable to do in the real world - being set in the 1900’s, the treatment for Alice’s condition is poor and unhelpful, with others seeking to manipulate her while she’s in her current state for their own personal gain rather than actually trying to help her. For Alice, Wonderland is an escape, and the fantastic areas within the game are corrupted as a direct result of her own faltering grip on reality.

Alice’s controls are like that of a third-person shooter game due to the engine; Alice always faces forward to where the camera is pointed in and there is a ‘target reticle’ in the center of the screen.

Throughout the game, Alice may collect ten weapons to fight with and has to slay enemies in the corrupted Wonderland in order to fight her way to the Queen of Hearts, who is the main antagonist and the source of the corruption other than Alice’s own insanity. There are also four difficulty modes - Easy, Medium, Hard and Nightmare - and the setting of this is impossible to change after selection, so the player must be certain of their choice.

Alice also has two vital statistics, ‘Will’ and ‘Sanity’. Sanity is the red bar located on the left side of the screen and represents Alice’s (mental) health - when she gains damage she loses sanity and when she loses it all she collapses, resulting in ‘game over’. The blue bar located on the right side of the screen is Alice’s ‘Strength of Will’ and is the fuel/ammunition for most weapons other than the Vorpal Blade (the weakest weapon) and the Croquet Mallet, which doesn’t use Will.

Alice may also find ‘Power-Up’ items throughout the game that can change her form and grant her special abilities for a limited amount of time. There is the ‘Grasshopper Tea’ which allows Alice to jump higher and run faster, the ‘Looking Glass’, which turns her invisible so she can bypass enemies or pull sneak attacks on them and lastly there is the ‘Rage Box’ which makes Alice stronger and able to deal more damage.

American McGee's Alice received mostly positive reviews from critics, and the graphics and music were well-praised for its time. Some of the positive reviews were Metacritic's 85/100 review score, GameSpot's 7.3/10, and IGN's 9.4/10. The game was a success and is considered a cult classic. The most common criticisms included clunky, awkward, and slippery controls. Alice has little "weight" to her and if she is attacked by a monster while jumping, it is common for her to be flung off the level and into pits, leading to many deaths. Some players also felt the combat was loose, unsatisfying, frustrating, and tedious at times, despite the different difficulty settings. The game was also criticized for a lack of unlockables and it is very much a "one and done" game. In his playthrough of the game, American McGee criticized some strange design elements:

Alice is supposed to dive into the water to reach the next area, although it merely looks like a puddle

Difficult and hard to navigate platforming areas

A spawn spot which only gives the player a second to react before they die

Letting the player continue the game without getting an important weapon which is technically optional (the Ice Wand)

Fake doors

American McGee's Alice, as a video game, is most notable for its representation and portrayal of mental health issues, and possibly is one of the first (or the first) video game to respectfully portray victims of poor mental health without portraying them in a negative way, such as "psychopathic crazy murderers who want to kill everyone and eat their faces just because they're insane" which are considered harmful stereotypes. American McGee's Alice also does not portray Alice's mental illness as a joke, nor does he needlessly romanticize it, and takes it seriously from start to finish. American McGee's Alice allows players to walk in the shoes and explore the demented mind of a fragile and vulnerable catatonia victim and sufferer, showing that the mentally ill could be intelligent and creative, and that those who suffer from mental illness also have their own mental battles to fight and that it is a long and arduous journey for them. The game also doesn't glamorize mental illness or promote it, instead showing the horrors of dealing with it and the toll it’s taken on Alice’s psyche. Alice is portrayed as lonely, sad, miserable, depressed, damaged, traumatized, tortured, emotionally and mentally unstable and suicidal protagonist. She is constantly haunted by the memories of the fire that claimed the lives of her parents (and her sister mentioned in the sequel), causing her to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and survivor's guilt as a result, which can manifest into extreme self-loathing and suicidal tendencies. During the game, Alice reveals she is not afraid of death because she has wished for it at times, and questions the point in living if she is only going to hurt others. It is also implied Alice cut her wrists in an attempt at suicide, as seen in some artworks of the game. Despite this, Alice is also treated with sympathy, dignity, and respect.

American McGee’s Alice was an interesting and fun game to play; the journey through her corrupted world was a thrilling and intense experience which can then be revisited in the sequel. This game offered a modern and unique twist to the age-old novel Alice in Wonderland and has been well-received by critics and fans alike since its’ release.