#they always look you in de eyes when doing this too

[bluvlet]

Okay, some of my rambling, first viewing impressions of Stage/Fright below the cut! (spoilers for the show!)

Always returning to that all encompassing obsession of mine when it comes to in9 - grief. The whole stage show is, effectively, a funeral service for in9.

Like 'Plodding On', it provides quick stop references to the history of in9. It's like the show's life is flashing before our eyes (christine, anyone?); off the top of my head, here are some I picked up on:

the first half is a retelling of 'Bernie Clifton's Dressing Room' (which itself is an episode about grief and looking back and catching glimpses of a beloved past).

the kidnapper's sketch is an obvious 'A Quiet Night In' reference with Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto, the outdoor lights gag, Reece + Steve's costuming looking identical to Ray and Eddie, and their briefly mentioned future job stealing a painting. There's a single black, man's shoe ('Diddle Diddle Dumpling') in a wardrobe, which is at one point enigmatically stuffed with people ('Sardines'). I also think Steve's (Len's) performance was very much giving Barry Baggs -- a fun TLOG reference. The guest that night was Dara Ó Briain, and at one point during the sketch the guys actually all broke to laugh at each other, which was hilarious.

The La Terreur De L' Asile segment reminds me a lot of 'The Trolley Problem' and 'The Riddle of The Sphinx', particularly Steve as Vince as Dr. Goudron, playing another predator who drugs and assaults vulnerable women. (I promise I still am working on my Trolley Problem and Sphinx comparison, which deals a lot with the parallels between Blake and Squires, and now probably with a tiny segment for Goudron...)

The inclusion of a horror period piece is also just like in each series of the show.

The segment with the actors of La Terreur De L' Asile was very 'Seance Time' to me: Marcus reminded me a lot of Terry, the vengeful that ghost haunts the cast, and the construction of it to conceal that the Asylum section is staged mirrors how 'Seance Time' was presented.

That section also brought 'Deadline' to mind -- especially the brilliant work with the screen and the camera and all the creeping around back stage (thinking of the camera on Reece's head during ‘Deadline’) Also the metatextual element of (fictional) Reece and Steve disturbing the peace of ghosts who died in show accidents and go on to disrupt in9 in return.

And of course there were tons of other little one-liners that instantly transport you back to an episode, or recurring jokes amongst in9 enthusiasts ('Sheridan Smith', the whole 'one of was dead the whole time' joke Reece makes after Steve dies).

The show ends with the fiction versions of Steve and Reece having died (and another callback to BCDR with their dance number). The stage show is quite literally the death of the in9 versions of the two. I'm sorry I really cannot articulate this point properly yet. The underlying emotional through line is that Steve himself is remembering Reece by imagining him still performing alongside him (another BCDR reversal like in ‘Plodding On’); by having (real) Reece performing all night, us as audience members unknowingly partake in (fictional) Steve's grief. And as it turns out, Reece has been haunting the theatre the entire time. Moreso, they point to the audience at 'laughter is my memory of you.' -- it's a memorial service for us too, from Steve and Reece's perspective. We mourn Reece and Steve as they do us, but it’s all about mourning in9. What is a ghost story if not a love story?

Another thing that strikes me is the metatextuality of it all. The show goes through every length to remind you constantly that it is a show. All of the segments take advantage of the theatre and its history and its capabilities as a space and an art form. I find it all utterly brilliant. Again, the fictional versions of R & S return, and references to Stage/Fright itself as we watch a show within a show within a show (at times) within a show. I don't have any fully formed thoughts about this yet, but I am thinking a lot about Stage/Fright's self awareness.

The whole trip was a very late present for my 19th birthday last summer from my mate, Luke (who has been mentioned on my blog before as the mind behind the interpretation of Blake being from working class roots). He's a very casual in9 fan and mostly just entertains my rantings about it, but after the end of the show he turned to me and said: 'I understand why there's RPF of them now.' I’m not into RPF but I find this genuinely hilarious.

Apologies if I've misremembered anything! I usually need 2-3 watches of things before anything properly sinks in, so you'll have to bear with my single viewing and shoddy memory.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

be my valentine? - barca boys

summary: how lamine yamal, pablo gavi, pedro gonzalez, pau cubarsi, and hector fort would ask you to be their valentine. masterlist warnings: suggestive.

You’ve been in a ‘talking stage’ with Lamine for the past two or three months. You had been friends as kids when he still lived in Rocafonda, you grew apart a little with age, but you’ve gotten closer again after starting high school.

You guys are in the same literature and mathematics classes, so you often give him notes or go to his place to help him with homework. He’s very sweet, he looks at you like you’re a beautiful girl, not some piece of meat, he’s always giving you little gifts and things too. You’ve gotten to know his mother better and met his little brother, Keyne. His papá seems to like you too on the few occasions you’ve met him.

Tonight, you’ve come over to help him with some of the literature homework. You’re laying on his bed, paper and books in front of you as you explain the concept it as best you can, when his mamá, Sheila, puts her head in the door, speaking to you with a warm, motherly smile.

“Hola, Y/N. ¿Te gustaría quedarte a cenar (would you like to stay for dinner)?” Lamine watches you intently, waiting for your reply, almost as if this was planned… although, you didn’t notice that. “Sí, Le enviaré un mensaje de texto a mi mamá y le preguntaré. Gracias señorita Ebana (yes, i’ll text my mamá and ask. thank you miss ebana).” you smile back. Sheila nods and leaves the room again, shutting the door. 

You and Lamine go back to doing the homework, although he seems more nervous and less focused than before. “Are you alright?” you frown, noticing that he has been staring at your face and not the book for the past two minutes. He blinks and looks away, a little flushed. “Sí, sí, sorry. I just… zoned out.” You give him a sceptical look but nod. “Vale. Now, back to page 167 (okay)…”

The two of you continue reading and writing until Sheila comes back to say dinner’s ready. When you get to the table, Lamine makes sure to pull your chair out for you and hand you your plate first. Sheila giggles behind her hand as she watches her son, clearly in on something you’re not, so you’re confused for a moment, but then move on. The table is fairly quiet, aside from Keyne chattering away in his high chair. With no siblings at home, you find it very entertaining and help him with a few spoonfuls of the spiced and seasoned rice, watching and laughing at him as he goes. Sheila watches on with a smile, grinning at the secret plan Lamine had made with her, but also at you and Keyne interacting. 

After dinner, you help to clear the table and do a few of the dishes with Sheila, Lamine watching on with love in his eyes from the living room floor as he half plays with Keyne, and half admires you and how well you and his mamá are getting on. Once the dishes are done, you go and sit next to Lamine on the floor again.

“You wanna keep going on the homework?” he asks. You nod and head back to his bedroom. He tells you that he needs the bathroom and that he’ll be in in a minute. When he reenters, you’re sitting on his bed, and he has his hands behind his back, holding something. You frown in confusion and laugh, watching him as he smiles back nervously at you. “What?” you laugh. Lamine takes a deep breath and moves his hands from behind his back. In one hand is a bouquet of long-stem red roses, and in the other, is a small, navy-blue, velvet box. Your eyebrows immediately rise in surprise and your eyes go from the roses to his anxious, but hopeful face. When you don’t immediately take them, he pushes them towards you a little more, you snap out of the haze that is those beautiful brown eyes of his and take the flowers and jewellery box.

You smile at him before opening the box, inside is one of the most beautiful necklaces you’ve ever seen. It’s (gold/silver) the colour he knows you prefer, a small iridescent opal pendant hanging from it. Inside the box, is also a small note.

“Be my valentine?” in Lamine’s signature neat, although slightly crooked, handwriting.

You laugh shakily and cover your mouth, staring at it for a second before putting the bouquet and necklace down on the bed and standing up to hug him. You rest your head on your shoulder, and whisper out your answer. “Yes, yes of course I’ll be your valentine.” he grins and tilts your head up. “¿Puedo besarte (can i kiss you)?” you nod, and a few moments later, those gorgeous plush lips of his are on yours. You pull away a few seconds later and laugh, still close, your forehead resting against his, looking into his eyes once more.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?” “Saying yes.” the taller boy smiles. You laugh, shaking your head slightly, “Of course I said yes. I’d be an idiot not to.”

Lamine pulls away and reaches for the box on the bed once more, he takes it out and gestures for you to turn it around. You feel the cool, delicate (gold/silver) on your neck and his fingers carefully doing up the clasp behind you. 

That night, you have your first sleepover together, and cuddle in bed most of the night, deciding homework can wait until tomorrow.

You’ve never had a Valentine before. Yep, 20 years old and not a single Valentine. So it’s kind of crazy that you’re first ever one will be the Pablo Gavi. 

You didn’t think he’d ask you, considering you were dating and it was probably just assumed, but alas, you arrived home from the grocery shopping to find a whole display of flowers, balloons and various other things on the dining room table, a proud Pablo standing next to it. 

You laugh in shock, almost dropping the grocery bag in surprise. Instead, you deposit it onto the kitchen counter and go over to him. Grinning his usual wide smile, he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you passionately for a good while, but when he gets distracted and his kisses start trailing down your neck, you laugh and pull away, bringing his head back up again. “Save that for later, amor.” He chuckles and presents the table to you properly. You take a closer look and there are multiple bottles of your favourite perfume and skincare products. There’s no makeup as always as Pablo refuses to buy it for you because he thinks you look even prettier without it. Dotted around are multiple bags, Dior, Mercadona, Victoria’s Secret (you can hardly imagine what he’s picked out from there), shoes, and a new dress, with flowers all around the place, and a big sign in the middle of the table. 

“Will you be my Valentine?” 

You laugh, just taking it all in. “What kind of question is that? Who else’s would I be?”

He shrugs and kisses you again. “Is that a yes then?” you roll your eyes and laugh for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Of course, mi amor. Siempre, sí (forever, yes).”

Once more, that cheeky grin appears on his face. You squeak when you’re lifted up the waist, legs automatically wrapping around his waist. As he carries you past the table, he picks up the Victoria’s Secret bag, making a beeline for the bedroom.

You met when you were seven, while playing football out in the schoolyard on one of your first days at your new school in Tegueste, after moving from Lanzarote, another Canarian Island, the closest one to Spain. You were quite a good wee player, but were met with the ground after being tripped by another boy, who looked about your age. Your bottom lip had wobbled as you looked at your now-skinned hands. The boy, looking as guilty as if he’d killed you, crouched down in front of you.

“Lo siento mucho. Lo prometo, no fue mi intención. ¿Estás bien (i’m so sorry. i promise i didn’t mean to. are you okay)?” he had asked tentatively. You sniffed and nodded. Your eyes had gone back to his face, and he had spoken up again.

“Puedo besarlo mejor por ti. Eso es lo que hace mi mamá cada vez que me lastimo (i can kiss it better for you. that's what my mami does whenever i get hurt).” Almost immediately, you nodded once more and held your hands out to him. The boy had pressed a small kiss to each of your palms.

“¿Está todo mejor ahora (is it all better now)?” “En realidad no, pero duele menos. Quizás seas mágico (not really, but it hurts less. maybe you’re magic).”

“Tal vez (maybe),” he smiled and helped you up, “Soy Pedri. Bueno, Pedro, pero todos me dicen Pedri porque soy pequeño y el otro Pedro es grande (i'm pedri. well, pedro, but everyone calls me pedri because i'm little, and other pedro is big).” he introduced, gesturing to a much larger boy across the yard. “¿Cómo te llamas (what’s your name)?” Pedri asked as he helped you up from the floor. “Y/N. ¿Quieres que seamos amigos? Soy nuevo y no tengo ninguno (do you want to be friends? i'm new, and i don't have any).” He nodded and you guys wandered off, back towards the classroom, as the bell had gone. 

And that’s how you met your boyfriend, best friend, and love of your life. 

Having been there for each other through the highs and lows, you two are closer than anyone else either of you know. No longer seven and clueless, the pair of you are curled up in bed, the rain pouring outside, you reading, Pedri on his phone beside you. There was a peaceful silence, besides the sound of rain on the windows and the occasional paper sound coming from your book. 

You turn the page and something falls out, sliding into your lap. Confused, you pick it up, what is it but a pressed white rose and a note? “Be my valentine?” you laugh and look up at Pedri, who’s watching you with a raised eyebrow, waiting. Grinning, you lean across the bed a little, connecting, before pulling away and murmuring against his lips, “Most certainly, I’ll be your Valentine. Considering you’ve been asking since we were 15, do you really even have to ask anymore.” “Yes, I do, because I know it makes you feel special, it makes me feel important, and it actually improves the general romantic-ness of our relationship,” he says firmly, but with a soft, signature Pedri smile.

“Woah, alright. And thank you, it’s very sweet.” you press another kiss to his lips, expecting just a peck, but very quickly, his tongue is in your mouth and you’ve been pulled to straddle his lap. “I have a few more Valentine’s gifts for you, don’t worry.” Pedri says with a smirk and hungry glint in his eye. You know you’re in for a long night, but aren’t at all mad about it.

You had been sitting in second-period Science, right before lunch, when one of the receptionists from the front office came into the classroom, asking you to pack up your things and come with her. Confused, you did so, trailing behind the older woman, back to the main office. Standing there in the office is a faux-distraught-looking Pau, claiming to be your cousin, needing to pick you up early as there’s been a family emergency. Behind her back, you cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

A few minutes later, and you’re all signed out and walking out to the carpark with Pau. “You know, you can’t just pull me out of school whenever you want, right? Our ‘grandma’ can only die so many times.” you laugh. He just shrugs and intertwines his hand with yours. “Oh well. I’m taking you on a date.” “A date? At 11.45 in the morning?” “Sí. We’re having a picnic on the beach,” he announces proudly. “On the beach, huh? So all the sand can get in our food? Delightful.” you laugh, he whacks your arm.

“Calla, it’s meant to be romantic (shut up).” Pau teases back, unlocking his car and opening the passenger door for you. “Princesa.” You roll your eyes at the nickname. Most boyfriends would use it in a cute way, their “princesa,” but no, not your boyfriend. Pau just uses it to tease you. He makes a dramatic gesture of it, helping you in by taking your hand and everything. You keep forgetting he has free reign to drive you guys anywhere now. So maybe random Friday lunch dates after a long week will become a more regular occurrence.

 The drive to the beach is fairly short, and most of the way there, you just give Pau the rundown on this week’s school gossip. It’s sunny and warm today, good weather for a picnic. Turns out, Pau’s version of a picnic is a salad and water for him, a sandwich and a lemonade for you, eaten on the tailgate of the car, however, to look out onto the beach while you eat, the car has to be reverse parked.

Pau is awful at reverse/parallel parking, and only just barely passed it on his test, so, while it is a little illegal, you always do it for him. It’s funny, you’re only studying, don’t even have your proper license, and can drive a lot better than him in many ways. Once the car is successfully parked, you both get out, opening the boot and sitting in it, cuddling close to each other.

You both sit in silence for a while, eating and drinking, until Pau randomly speaks up once more. 

“You know how you left your phone at mine the other day?”

You suddenly feel a little nervous. “Yeah..?”

Pau grins. “Wanna explain why you have over 500 saved edits of me on TikTok?” 

You’re quite tempted to die of embarrassment. Literally, mortified. He takes immense pleasure in your pink face. 

“We can do it like that… if you want to.”

You almost don’t want to ask. “Do what like what?” “Do you want it from the back, with your face in the pillow so you can yell as loud as you want to?” He says with a suggestive smirk, quoting the audio of the most recent edit you’ve saved, knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, slumping down further. But he doesn’t shut up. Doesn’t even think about it, and 20 minutes later, you find yourself topless, laying in the boot of the car, Pau having put the backseats down for a rather messy makeout, like the good, horny teenagers you are. He lays next to you, both of you breathless. For a good few moments, the only sound that is heard in the car is both of you panting. “You know, I actually brought us out here for the ‘romantic’ date to ask you to be my Valentine,” he says. “Really? Well, the answer is yes.” you chuckle breathily, sitting up.

“How am I meant to go back to school, looking live I’ve been mauled by a dog after going to ‘say goodbye to our grandma with my cousin.’?” casually, you laugh, but Pau’s face is far from amused. “No way in hell are you going back to school. We’re going straight to my bed, mi amor.” You giggle and he finally laughs too. “Alright. Maybe we should try your suggestion from earlier.”

His grin only grows.

Right now, you’re laying on your boyfriend of three years after yet another long day of uni. The silence had been comfortable as he gently scratched his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead over and over again, in fact, you were almost asleep. But your half-dozed-off state is interrupted when Héctor speaks up.

“Can you look at my foot?” “What?” “My foot.” you just stare at him for a moment.

“Your foot?” you repeat, slower. He nods as if that was a perfectly normal request. 

“Why exactly?” “Because it hurts and you’re training to become a physio.” After staring at him for a moment longer, you sigh and relent, moving to crouch at the end the chaise of the couch, pulling off his sock. “Do you not have professional physios for this?” “Yeah, but I like you better.” Inspecting his foot, you frown. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” “Yes, because it’s the other one.” You pull off his right sock instead, and your eyes widen.

“Héctor Fort García, what did you do?!” you gasp, glancing up to his face, which had the biggest grin on it. On the inside of his right foot, are your initials and birthday, as well as your anniversary date, all written in your handwriting. 

“Got another tattoo.” “I can see that. Why that, and why there?”

“Because that’s the foot I score goals with. So now, every goal I score, every pass, every tackle, every run, is dedicated to you, like you’re there helping me kick, in thought, of course.”

You watch him in surprise for a moment before laughing in disbelief and coming back up to kiss him and give him a hug.

“Estás loco (you’re crazy).”

“Sólo para ti, mi amor (only for you, my love).” he laughs back, pressing yet another kiss to your nose. 

You lay together in silence for a moment, before Héctor speaks up again.

“If you couldn’t tell, this was a very long way of asking you to be my Valentine?”

“Yeah, alright.” you laugh. You two are always laughing when you’re together, because there’s always something to laugh about. Whether it be Héctor messing up an English word, or you spilling something all over yourself, you both find humour in everything. 

“Just, ‘alright’?” he sniggers, shoving you a little.

“What would you prefer I say then, hm?”

“How about a ‘Yes, please, dear boyfriend that just got my name and birthday permanently tattooed on his body.’?” “Mmmm… I think I’ll stick with ‘Yeah, alright.’” you tease, which earns his fingers under your arms, tickling you until you slide off the couch and are crying tears of laughter.

a/n: i wanted to do one for marc, but it was last and i genuinely had no ideas 😭 so i'd be happy to add it later if anyone has some requests or suggestions?

[m-eowdy]