#apparently the scene they filmed was much longer

[niennawept]

Release the deleted scenes of Adar and the uruks, Amazon. You cowards!

#adar #uruks #rings of power #I want to know what the rest of Magrot's funerary rites were like! #apparently the scene they filmed was much longer

[pharawee]

Yoon Phusanu my beloved never disappoints and has indeed hired a gaggle of lawyers to go up against Y.Entertainment.

You can watch his whole press conference (with English subs) here.

It includes highlights such as:

Yoon would like to be fairly compensated because he has to provide for his family. His family are seven cats. He's brought pictures.

He's now officially gone freelance and Y.Ent are no longer allowed to use his name.

Yoon hasn't been paid in a very long time, even though he's tried to negotiate and reach an agreement. He's tired of having to run after his money.

He's "only" owed about 100.000 baht (~2.555€ / 2772$ / £2,192) but Yoon's lawyer states that this is a systematic problem and lots of actors in Series Y (Thai BL) aren't fairly compensated. Several actors have reached out to him personally. He also says that he doesn't put blame on the companies because Series Y is a very competitive field. Still, young actors should be careful about who they work with and stand up for themselves if they aren't treated fairly.

They're showing pictures of Yoon's cats again. Yoon has to provide for them, after all:

Yoon doesn't have acting work lined up right now but he's actively looking for new projects and is in talks to join a new agency.

I'm not sure if this only affects Yoon or the other actors who are owed money by Y.Ent as well but apparently the cut-off date for payment was 11 March. He was offered money after that date but didn't take it because he already knew that he wanted to terminate the contract. Apparently, he had been with Y.Ent for over 4 years and the contract was supposed to be a six year contract (I'm not too sure about this one since the subs are terrible and so is my Thai lmao). Because he's been with them for so long, the whole thing pretty much blindsided him.

Yoon's mother is supportive of him acting in Y Series.

Many other Thai BL actors have talked to Yoon about being treated unfairly and he wants to spread awareness about that.

Apparently, Y.Ent never stated a reason for not paying him. They only told him that he'd be paid at a later date.

Yoon's lawyer says that he has every right to sue but for now he only wants to negotiate. He again urges young actors to thoroughly check who they're working with.

Yoon is asked if this disagreement will cause him problems with other companies down the line but he says that he doesn't believe it will negatively affect him as he's trying to solve the issue peacefully.

Yoon's lawyer again says that actors should read their contracts very carefully. Some contracts don't give the actors any rights but only duties. They might then have to hire a laywer to be able to break contract.

Yoon then says that sometimes he wasn't sent the script before filming and when arrived on set all he'd be given was an old brief that he'd already read. He was then asked (by other crew etc) if he'd practiced his lines which of course he couldn't. This embarrassed him.

The lawyer also adds that there is often a discrepancy between the number of episodes in a series and queues for a shoot. I'm guessing that he means that the actors won't realise that they actually have to work more hours for less money (since compensation seems to be based on episodes rather than hours worked?). This is very difficult to renegotiate and almost no actor in their 20s can afford to settle this in court.

This isn't the first time Yoon has spoken up against the mistreatment of himself and other Thai BL actors in the industry and I'm so glad he has the means to stand up for himself when so many other actors obviously can't.

Fans are so quick to blame bad shows and weird behind-the-scenes stuff on the actors themselves when in reality it's so often due to mismanagement and mistreatment. Imagine not even having a script on shooting day (yes, I'm aware this is common practice in soap entertainment but these are rookie actors without the experience and support that seasoned soap actors have - also in this case it seems to have surprised even the crew on set). No wonder things were akward in Unforgotten Night. Do you really think actors who don't have a script get to practice and negotiate their intimate scenes together?

And judging by what Tor Atagorn has spoken up about recently (and many other actors have alluded to in the past) this is only the very tip of the iceberg, with young and inexperienced actors deliberately trapped in contracts that they have no way of getting out of on their own.

Yoon's lawyer urged young actors to be more aware of who they're working for in order to better protect themselves. In a similar vein, BL watchers should ideally be more aware of whose shows they're watching and what companies have a shady track record.

If nothing else, do it for the cats! These actors have children they need to provide for, after all!

#yoon phusanu #thai bl #unforgotten night #for him the series #jane watches stuff #i need a tag for bl industry things #bl industry #(perhaps?) #pls assume i've been replaced if i ever NOT talk about mistreatment in the bl industry #this is so very important to me #i've seen it happen in the games industry #and we should fight and show support whenever we can #because passionate and young creatives are so easy to exploit #and most people seem to think it's okay because they like the game or series or movie they get out of it

[alocon]

Always Irresistible [3] - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

written by alocon

Summary: Despite all hope, Lando never lost his feelings for his best friend's twin sister. However, he still hadn't acted on it. Well, that was until the party, which led you two into a long-term secret relationship

Warnings and Tropes: Fluff, part 3 to the story released the other day.

[Part One Here] [Part Two Here] [Part Four Here] [Masterlist]

Always Irresistible - Ln4 x Fem!Reader

Your head leant onto your boyfriend's shoulder as you watched a film on your bed. He had basically moved all his stuff into your room by this point and was only using his room as a streaming setup. One of his arms was around your back, the other being placed gently onto your knee. 

The pair of you had been in a fair share of arguments over the time you'd been in a relationship but it didn't stop you both from making up again in the end. It was a normal thing that happened between every couple in every relationship. Arguing was completely normal.

You first felt his attention on you when a jumpscare came onto the screen. Lando would usually look away until the scene was over and then would look back, but this time you could feel like eyes burning into you. You turned to look back at him, noticing the way his eyes scanned over your face. You were pretty sure he could draw you from memory down to the placement of every single freckle on your face by the amount of time he had spent staring, however, you didn't mind. It made you feel loved, appreciated. It made you feel beautiful. “What?” You asked quietly, confused about why he was staring at you now.

“You're just.” He paused to look over your face again, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “I'm so glad we're together.” You smiled. That was sweet.

You placed a kiss on his lips. “I'm glad we are too.” Apparently, that one kiss was not enough for his liking as he leaned in again, his hands gripping your waist as you pulled you in for a longer, more intimate kiss that the peck you had given him only moments before. You, obviously, kissed back, letting him climb over you, laying you back on the bed below him. You knew where this was heading and you were all for it as he lost the shirt, it landing on the floor beside the bed. 

He had done everything in his power since you got together to make you feel like the most perfect woman in the world. It was like the two of you were made for each other, every kiss making you fall more and more in love. You adored the way he wouldn't let you go in the morning. You adored how, if he went out with his friends for the day, you would barely be able to leave his embrace because he missed you. You loved every single thing about this relationship. It was perfect. Sometimes you both wished that you could share it with the world.

“What the fuck.” You pulled away quickly from the kiss, Lando grabbing his shirt and throwing it on, over his head. You looked at the furious man in the doorway as he turned to walk away, stating that he wished to talk to Lando the kitchen. He placed another quick kiss to your lips before following the man, shutting the door behind him. 

It was silent for a moment, weirdly silent. And then, shouting. Arguing. You listened into the argument as best you could but could barely hear anything. You could only pick out a few words here and there. You sat on your bed, thinking about what to do, deciding that, if it didn't stop in a couple of minutes, you would have to go sort him out yourself. 

The arguing still hadn't stopped.

“I can't believe you'd do this. I made it very clear that she is one to fall and fall hard for someone and that she was very much off limits. I can't believe you would go behind my back to fuck with her feelings, what the hell. Seriously, what are you thinking screwing with her head like that?” Max was furious and Lando was a little anxious in that moment. He had never seen him so angry.

“I'm not, Max. I would never play with her feelings like that, don't be stupid. Why would I ever do that to her?”

Max's shouting only got louder. “Because you've done it before. How many times have you dated someone or got with them for a month or two only to turn around and change your mind and claim you can't love them like they deserve. That you love someone else and so it would be unfair to them. How do I know that you won't do the same to my sister?”

Lando's voice matched Max's now. “Because its always been her!”

Max went silent in an instant. It was Lando’s turn to rant at him, now.

“For God's Sake, Max. She is the one I've been in love with all these years. She's the one I've wanted to be with since we were 13. But I didn’t pursue a relationship because she's your sister. I would've felt bad because she's your twin. I tried to date other women to get over her. Believe me, I tried. But I couldn't, because I've never got over her. It's always been her. It will always be her.”

Max didn't know what to say. He didn't even notice your presence in the doorway. “Max, if you plan to keep shouting at my boyfriend, you need to leave.”

“Boyfriend?” Max looked between the two and saw Lando looking equally as surprised at that outburst.

You looked at Lando, stepping closer to him. “Lan he knows. Isn't it better to be fully open now?” You were speaking quietly to him. Your voice changed into a whisper. “Only if you're comfortable.”

“Yeah. I am.” You sat on the kitchen counter beside him as he spoke. He smiled at you, before turning to Max. “Yes. Boyfriend.”

“For how long?”

“July-”

“You've been dating for six months and didn't tell me?” He cut Lando off as he spoke.

“No, Max. July last year. 2023.”

“A year and six months and you didn't tell me?”

“We didn't tell most people!”

“Who knows?” He asked, looking straight at you. 

“Zak, Oscar, Alex and both Lily's. Oh, and Max and Charlie but that's only because Charles doesnt know how to knock on a door and Max is his little gossip buddy slash emotional support rival thing.”

“And Alex and Lily only found out because they walked out of the club at the party last year with us. And we only told Zak, Oscar and Lily at first to make sure no photos of us holding hands were posted. So really, you're one of the first few.”

“Still though. That's so many people you told before me!” Max was slightly raising his voice again.

“Because I knew you'd act like this,” you raised your voice back at him. He looked surprised. As did Lando. Lando had never heard you raise your voice at anyone before. You rarely did. “Stop treating me like a child, Max. I'm a grown fucking adult.”

“I can't believe you're being so selfish.” Max deadpanned as he looked at you, voice still raised. “He was my friend first.”

“This isn't a fucking competition. He can be both your friend and my boyfriend!”

“Yeah? Says who?”

“Me! P was my friend before she was your girlfriend but you don't see me out and about bitching like you do. But no, you can't handle it being the other way around because for once, your sister has decided to do something for her that makes her happy without worrying what you would think of her. For God's Sake, Max. You need to grow up.” Lando placed his hand on you as you ranted at your brother. 

“That's different. She was your best friend, Lando is my childhood best friend.”

“It's not different, you're just a fucking hypocrite.” You stood up off the counter, walking away. A few moments later, the slam of a door could be heard. 

Max turned to look at Lando. “You need to make a decision, Lando. Our friendship or your relationship.”

You sat in the bedroom, having just let a couple of tears fall from your face. You had heard Max's words. And then nothing. You heard the door open and shut. That was an hour ago and you had heard nothing from then since so, as hard as it was, you figured that he had chosen Max. It didn't surprise you. Max was his best friend, you completely got it. You dropped a text to P.

To P: Hi lovely. I just wanted to apologise for not telling you sooner about this but Lando and I are (or were) together. I didn't want to tell you because we weren't ready for Max to know and I didn't want Max to be upset with you for knowing and not telling him. Miss you lots x

From P: Hi!! Thank you for telling me. I'm glad you did. I completely understand why you didn't tell me sooner. I had my suspicions anyways. What do you mean “or were”??? 

You began to talk to P about what happened, her promising to invite you over for a binge ice cream and crying session if he does choose Max. You felt a lot better. Opting to ignore everything else and shut the world out, you rolled over and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep quite easily. 

You were awoken not too long later by the feeling of a hand on your face. You groaned softly, opening your eyes to see him crouched in front of you, eyes at the same level as you. “Hey beautiful, how long have you been asleep?”

“Not too long. I thought you went with Max.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

“About you choosing me or him? Yes.”

Lando placed a kiss on your cheek. “Oh darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I just went out to get us food for dinner so that we don't have to cook. I should've messaged. I'm so sorry.” He placed his forehead against yours, helping you sit up as you hugged him. He pulled you off of the bed, bringing you to the living room to sit beside you, food boxes in hand. You smiled. He had gone out of his way to drive to Nice to get you food from your favourite noodle place. He passed you a pair of chopsticks, grinning at you.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he responded, no hesitation. 

“So,” you said after taking a bite of your food. “What happened?”

Max turned to look at Lando. “You need to make a decision, Lando. Our friendship or your relationship.”

Lando looked at him, surprise in his face as he never thought his best friend would stoop that far. Grabbing his keys, he signalled for Max to walk out the door, him following behind as a look of triumph appeared on Max's face. The two stayed in silence until they got to the car park. That was when Lando turned to Max.

“I'm glad you came to your senses and chose me, mate.”

Lando chuckled, a bitter, annoyed chuckle. “Who said I was choosing you?”

Max looked at him, his face dropping into one of confusion. “You're out here with me.”

Lando looked at Max. “I hope, for your sake, that you will never again ask me to pick between you and my girlfriend ever again because I will choose her every single time.”

“What the hell, Lando. I've known you longer.”

Lando stepped closer, right in front of Max's face. “And she's the woman I want to marry one day. So rather than me making a choice, you get to. You should take some time to calm down and to think long and hard about whether you want this battle because, when I do marry her, it's your actions that determine whether you'll be there alongside me as my best man or not.” Lando stepped back, turning around and getting in his car. “Now if you don't mind me, I'm going to get my girlfriend and I dinner.”

-The End-

[Word Count: 2008]

Hi All, Hope you enjoyed this part, I enjoyed writing it. I wrote this at work earlier because I had nothing to do hahah. Have a good day x Alocon

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando #ln4 x reader #lando norris mclaren #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #ln4 one shot #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fanfic #ln4 mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #f1 fanfic #formula one

[moonchildstyles]

flâner

élan part four: wandering around Paris was just what y/n needed. and harry, of course.

wordcount: 11.2k+

—————

Foolishly, (Y/N) thought addressing Harry would make her less anxious to exist around him. She was proven wrong the next morning when she saw him emerging from the restroom and for her skin to feel a bit too warm. From his response, that furrowed brow and the fact that he didn't even seem to realize what she was trying to tell him flashed before her. That blank look in his gaze like he thought she was just as crazy as her father taunted her. 

After that moment, before he spotted her, she slunk back into her room. The door shutting behind her sealed her away, the air settling around her. 

That was a week ago, that first spot of him after that confrontation. Since then, with her door sealed closed, she had burrowed herself into the folds of her duvet and cushy mattress. Her pillows had been thrown askew, ruffled from her shifting in bed and tossing and turning during the hours she was able to sleep. The only times she trudged out of bed was to take a shower, or slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night for snacks. Her phone had been glued to her hand through her time, corresponding with Francesca while she refreshed her socials and news outlets as often as she could manage. 

Luckily, the 132 Gala was set around the same time as a major music festival, pushing her mess to the back burner of the media rotation after a week. Unfortunately, the event wasn't close enough to have wiped everything about the Gala from people's memories or mouths. 

The red carpet interview she gave had gone viral. Analyses of her body language, the way she looked at Harry, every tiny word she let out followed after. The most popular theory she'd seen was those assuming she was high on something while she was there, that would explain the jitters and the fact she couldn't calm down, apparently. Think pieces were posted, the vast majority citing her as the poster child for the "dark side" of the glamorous social scene. Edits were posted to video platforms, set to dramatic music as if this was supposed to be her third act low point in a film. The most traumatizing photo taken of her—her hair a mess, hand clinging to Harry's, her feet stumbling over one another with tears glittering over her face as she tried to get away—had been turned into a meme. She was nothing more than a caricature and a joke to anyone who had any idea who she was. At least the gossip from the festival was enough to push her out of the main publications, other appearances and performances garnering the public's attention for the time being. 

In anonymous blogs, it appeared outsiders had caught on to the fact she was no longer in New York. It started when she wasn't pictured at any of the afterparties, more merit given when she was noticeably missing from group outings with Francesca and the rest of the girls, articles speculating that she was in "treatment" or hiding out from the consequences of her flip out. 

Her least favorite thing was the articles popping up centering around Harry. Many dug into his background, looking into his job history, family, and small amount of social media presence he had. There was nothing to be found, nothing that could add any fuel, but that didn't stop the outlets from crafting something sensational enough to grab attention. The amount of headlines she'd seen, suggesting he was a jealous boyfriend after catching her with Barron, using a photo of him cradling her with his brow furrowed and jaw set was astounding. 

In the week since she left the country and shut herself away, her father hadn't contacted her a single time. The last thing he said to her was that she was a crazy whore, just like her mother. 

Tonight, she was doing much of the same as she had for the last week, eyes straining against her screen. If she were to peer over the top of her phone she would be able to spot the sparkling Eiffel Tower through her balcony. 

Despite doing nothing all day everyday, her body was exhausted. There was more anxiety in her system than she ever thought she could handle. Her only hopeful thought was the reminder that there would undoubtedly be something that would happen to throw her sensationalized story through the window. Someone would do something that would be more interesting, fresher, more exciting. Then, she would be off the hook. 

Until then, she would just be hiding under her covers and dodging Harry's presence. 

—————

(Y/N) blinked her tired eyes as she lay bundled up in her bed, the morning light a little too bright for her. She'd stayed up most of the night, scrolling through her phone mindlessly until she managed to flop asleep for a couple of hours. The sunshine woke her, the look of the stars in the night too enticing for (Y/N) to ever remember to close her drapes before the sun rose. 

It didn't make her regret it any less in this moment, though. 

Turning between her sheets, she gave her back to the open balcony doors, her eyes fluttering closed. She'll wake up a little later to eat something—hopefully, Harry would be busy elsewhere. 

A moment later, with (Y/N) on the edge of sleep, a knock rattled her French doors. On instinct, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She did her best to pretend to sleep when she heard the same door open, pacing her breathing and relaxing her features as much as she could. If only she had kept her back to the door, she would have endured another few moments of the sunshine if it would have made this moment easier. 

Harry entered her room after a beat, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. (Y/N) didn't waver in her act, keeping her eyes shut and breathing easy. 

"I know you're awake." 

She could feel her heart racing in her chest at his words. Just keep breathing, she reminded herself, keep breathing and keep her face relaxed. 

The static in the room shifted, (Y/N) assuming he stepped towards her. "(Y/N)," he said, his voice firm, "I know you're awake." 

(Y/N) stayed quiet. She could only imagine the way his lips thinned and that unimpressed gaze of his stayed stitched to her face.

"I just wanted to let you know that I found a pilates studio nearby and I booked you a spot for the morning class. It starts in a couple of hours. Shower and eat if you want, but we will be going either way." 

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) broke her act in shock. Looking up at Harry from where she was bundled in bed, her bloodshot eyes met his intense gaze.

"What?" 

Raising his brow, Harry looked a little too smug.

"I found a studio nearby for you," he started simply, the moss of his eyes stuck on hers, "They had a spot available in their morning class. I signed you up for it. 'M not going to let you miss this." 

Shifting between the sheets, she curled her fingers around the hem of her sheet. "I don't feel good, Harry," she croaked, "I don't really want to—"

"Y'can't stay in your room the whole time we're here, (Y/N). You know that. Hiding isn't going to fix anything." 

Behind her ribs, (Y/N) felt something begin to boil. "I'm not trying to fix anything. I just want to be left alone, Harry." 

"That's not going to be possible while 'm here." He matched her intensity head on, unwavering where he stood. "Now, please get up, and I will see if I can put together some breakfast for you." 

With that, Harry gave her his back as he stepped out of her room. He left the door wide open behind him, a tactic that made (Y/N)'s jaw clench and skin heat. He knew she wouldn't be able to stand having the door open, forcing her to get out of bed to close it. 

Looking at him through her wide open doors, she spotted him puttering about the kitchen without a care in the world. It pissed her off even more. 

Can't he see she's in a state of mourning? Her reputation and chunks of her self worth died that night at the Gala. She didn't need some sunshine-y pilates class, full of breathing techniques and affirmations. What she needed was her father to respect her, and everyone to leave her alone, and her head to be fucking quiet for once. 

The rage bubbling in her chest propelled her out of bed, stomping over the floor with her sheets flung behind her. She was seething as she made it to the threshold, grasping the doorknobs with her hands rolled into fists. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she just wanted him to leave her alone, understand that she was pissed off and he wasn't helping even a little. All while he was prancing around their kitchen without care in the world. 

She stopped in her tracks when she took in the fact that he really was prancing around the kitchen. As much as she wanted to be angry and seethe at him, he wasn't there without a care in the world. He was in the process of making breakfast for her. Using their limited supply of food seeing as she hadn't done any grocery shopping other than a single delivery and he didn't know his way around the city at all. He was sacrificing the little rounds of bread they had left for her. 

The bar of her shoulders loosened to a slope, her jaw unclenching. 

None of this was Harry's fault—she knew that. She was in therapy for two years for these kinds of anxiety issues, these gut feelings that made her so frustrated she was almost paralyzed. The real problem was the fact that she was scared. She didn't want to see the world, and she didn't want the world to see her. She didn't want someone to see her face and be reminded of the mascara that was pictured running down her cheeks, her cry-swollen lips, and the messy pile of hair that had been on her head. 

That was none of Harry's fault, though. He was only trying to help her. She wasn't helping anyone—especially herself—by staying cooped up in her room and running on anxiety and three sips of water. While leaving her room and doing something as annoyingly centering as pilates sounded terrible in the moment, in the long run it would help her in ways she couldn't anticipate with her brain scrambled like this.

Carefully closing the doors behind her, (Y/N) turned back to her room and set for her bathroom to get ready for the day. 

—————

Two hours away from her phone, the time filled with breathing, pushing the stretch of her muscles, and kind French women asking about her cute leggings, left (Y/N) feeling... nice. 

Sweat stuck to her skin, baby hairs clung to the outskirts of her features, and her thighs ached, but she didn't mind. She couldn't find it in herself to have a complaint. 

She stepped out of the studio, waving goodbye to the instructor with diffused red lipstick, (Y/N) faced the street to look for Harry with a soft smile on her features. She found the sedan on the curb just a handful of spots away from the entrance to the studio. Her steps were leisurely as she made her way over the concrete. 

Climbing into the passenger seat, she patiently clicked her seatbelt and waited for Harry to pull away from the curb. Maybe he would be willing to let her grab a purple smoothie from one of the cafes by the penthouse. 

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, his tone careful as he slipped into the flow of Parisian traffic. 

"Really good actually. Thank you." She didn't hesitate to flash him a soft-lipped smile. "You didn't have to do any of this for me, so it really means a lot." 

Something prideful entered his features as he listened to her. The green in his eyes sparkled as he canted his head. "Y'haven't even seen the best part, yet." 

"What do you mean?" A pinch in her brows marred her features.

"While y'were busy," he started, his hands sliding over the steering wheel as he smoothly turned at an intersection, "I was able to find one of your purple drinks at a café." 

Directing her eyes to the center console between them, (Y/N) finally spotted the clear cup with her favorite purple smoothie inside. She took in a bubbly gasp, her features blooming in excitement. 

"Harry! Thank you!" she squealed, grabbing the cup from the holder with her cardigan covered hands. 

Harry didn't say anything in response, instead allowing the closest thing she'd ever seen to a full smile on his face come to fruition. She swore she saw the ghost of a dimple on one of his cheeks. 

All it took was a single sip, the clear acid of pomegranate seeds and bright raspberry bursting over her tongue, that practically changed her entire outlook on life. 

"This is, like, the best day of my life," (Y/N) joked with a fluffy laugh, greedily fitting the straw between her lips once more. 

Harry let out just the faintest huff of air through his nose, his concentration on the road before them, as she gazed at him. The scape of Paris passed behind him, sunlight shaping his silhouette. 

She wasn't so sure she was joking about this being the best day, anymore.

—————

"You've never been to Paris before this? Not even with Camila and Monroe?" 

Swallowing down a bite of his breakfast sandwich, Harry cleared his throat as he shook his head. "No. They preferred going through the states." 

"Wow," (Y/N) sounded, slowly dragging her piece of buttery toast through the remaining hollandaise sauce on her plate. "This is your first time ever." 

"Mhm," he hummed, peeking at her through the fan of his lashes, "That's what I said." 

While (Y/N) didn't like to think of herself as spoiled or out of touch, she guessed maybe she forgot that international travel wasn't the norm for most people. Paris was like a second home to her, it was crazy to think that Harry hadn't had the joy of visiting, even if for a day.

"I have to show you around then," she mused, making the decision on her own. Seeing the Eiffel Tower from his balcony wasn't enough, she had to show him the real deal. 

Harry raised his brows, his shoulders hunching over his plate as he took another bite of his sandwich. He waited until he had swallowed before speaking. "Show me around?" 

"Yes! You need to be a tourist, a little," (Y/N) bleated, "It would be fun, don't you think? I'll show you all of the famous spots, and I can show you my favorites, too." 

Sipping his coffee, Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes on her. He seemed to have brought his observing gaze along from home. "That would be really nice, actually. Thank you, (Y/N)." 

Practically bouncing in her seat, she leant across as if sharing a secret. "Can we do it today, then? Or did you have other plans?" 

"Seeing as how 'm here with you, I think you are my only plans." 

(Y/N) didn't expect the flutter that happened in her chest. Warmth bubbled behind her cheeks when he didn't seem to be teasing her at all, instead that intensity still followed as he spoke. 

He flustered her a bit. 

"Good," she sounded, swallowing around her tongue as she disconnected their eye contact, "Finish eating, and then we'll go be tourists." 

—————

Peering down at her phone, (Y/N) did her best to be aware of her surroundings while poking at the map of Paris on her screen. 

"I think we'll start easy and see the Eiffel Tower first," (Y/N) mused, leading them in the direction of the train station that would take them to the attraction. 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, looking down at her with a small kink to his brow. 

"Mhm," she hummed happily, "It's way better up close and in person, honestly. We could go later to see it at night with all the twinkle lights, but I think I might be too excited to wait." 

That phantom smile settled on his lips for the second time. "I think we could do that, come back and see the twinkle lights. I think it would be a lot of fun." 

Eagerly nodding her head, (Y/N) couldn't wait to add the plans to the set mental itinerary she was lacing together. "If you're not too tired after the Tower, there are a few other places I wanted to visit today." 

"And, what are those?" 

(Y/N)'s babbling filled the air between them, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She had a list forming in her head, landmarks popping up as she went that she swore she needed to show him at least once before their time in Paris was over.

He didn't stop her as she bubbled on, dominating the conversation while only vaguely guiding her down the pedestrian path and keeping her out of danger. She was the one that knew the city, but it seemed she still didn't pay a whole lot of attention to her surroundings. His hand was a curling breeze over her back, palm grazing between her shoulder blades. 

Hitting the train station, Harry didn't slack on the way he herded her around, acting as a wall between herself and the public. Even with the fact that Paris was decidedly less crazy for her, less recognition and less people bold enough to approach her (she'd only seen a handful of people take photos of her even), he didn't waver on his job.

"Careful," he told her when they stepped onto the train, him just a foot behind. 

Staying quiet, (Y/N) blinked looking around the train car. It was full this morning, tourists and the like taking up each seat with others standing by the bars. She hesitated in her steps, unsure of where to go as a handful of others boarded with them. Taking over, Harry guided her inside, pushing her to an unoccupied corner by a rail. 

"Hang on," he told her, huddling her into the small space.

Instantly, she had her hand wrapped around the bar, Harry grabbing the one above their heads. He stood facing her, his back to the rest of the car while she looked up at him with her phone in her free hand. 

"Thank you," she murmured.

Harry gave her a small nod, his gaze looking out the window. 

The intercom dinged once the doors closed, a calm female voice running over the map of the next stop in French. Pulling out her phone, she reloaded the page of all the stops and the schedules. "I think we're the last stop," she told Harry, tapping at her phone distractedly. 

Suddenly, she was thrown off balance once the train shot off, the slow startup being left behind. (Y/N) stumbled, her grip on the handrail clearly not tight enough. Quick as ever, Harry stopped her with a hand on her waist, keeping her upright as her eyes widened and a gasp fell from her lips. 

Harry's voice was low as he righted her, the train steadying in speed, "I told you to be careful." 

Her hand with her phone continued to cling to his arm even when she was flat on her feet once more. 

"I guess I forgot how these are. Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her gaze from where she centered on the dip of his throat up to his face. 

Amusement laced through his features in a slight softening of the edges light in his irises. "Maybe." 

Harry didn't move his hand from her waist until he ushered her to take a vacated seat. 

—————

Walking down the uneven pathways, (Y/N) took the familiar route in stride. The train dropped them off near the Eiffel Tower, but there was still a short walk to be had. Harry was at her side as they mixed in with the flow of tourists and locals set around the area. 

Everything was much cooler here. New York was new and eccentric, full of people setting trends with others following. It was loud and brash, full to the brim with everything and anything. Paris was different. It still moved fast—it was still a major city after all—, but cooler. There was an ease about the people, the palettes, the decorum. Everything worked on the same flow as the Seine, leisurely and winding with a cigarette in hand. She tended to travel here in the summer with lavender fields blooming, but she wondered what a Parisian winter would be like. 

She imagined lots of soup and wine.

"We're almost there," she told him, casting her gaze outwards to catch the tower in the distance, "But, if we went down that way"—she pointed down another walkway—"we'd be able to see the second Statue of Liberty they have here." 

"There's another one?" Harry asked, following the direction of her pointed finger.

"Mhm," she hummed, keeping them moving forward, "I can't remember his name, but a French architect designed the statue and made two—one for us and one to keep." 

Harry took in the information in his silently observant ways, cataloguing it all to be filed away. "What else is around here?" 

(Y/N) bounced in her steps at the question, all too excited to tell him more about the city she loved. With how widespread and different Paris was depending on the section of the city you ended up in, it was easy to forget how some of the most beautiful pieces of human culture were only planted miles apart. She could be Harry's tour guide for weeks just to get through every spot in Paris. 

She took her time pointing him in every which direction, telling him more and more while glimpsing other spots she told him she wanted to stop at if they had the time. Soon enough, the Tower was before them, the lawn around the fixture lush and dotted with tourists. 

In the mid-morning light, it glimmered like the lights were blinking on, shimmering and dancing under the sun. 

"Wow," Harry murmured, almost breaking his neck as he looked up at it, his steps absently moving him closer. 

A wink of pride touched (Y/N)'s chest. She couldn't believe with how well travelled he seemed that he never had seen a place like this, but she would take the honor of being the one to show him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that she got him exiled here if she was able to share something like this.

"It's crazy, right?" she asked, her voice a breath as if to not disturb the towering structure, "I know back home has all the skyscrapers and everything, but this just feels like it's more. Don't you think?" 

"Yeah," he said, his voice floated on impressed awe. "Better than the photos, like you said." 

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw the way Harry looked up with wonder in his eyes at the Tower. She was sure he was catching every detail, ever rung, every bolt. 

"So you wouldn't want a picture with it, then?" (Y/N) teased, watching the way a pinch appeared in Harry's brow. 

"No, of course I want a picture." The slight pout to his lips had (Y/N)'s grin widening into a bubbling laugh. She wondered if he even knew he made a face like that. 

Taking his eyes off the Tower for the first time since approaching the green, he looked to her with his own lips plucking into something amused. It wasn't a full smile, not yet, but something lopsided and reserved. She spotted that phantom dimple. 

Blinking back into the moment, (Y/N) took a step back, intending to photograph Harry in front of the monument. He took his phone out from his back pocket, not even glancing at her before he was casting his gaze around elsewhere. The moment she was about to offer, reaching for his phone, he honed in on a family of tourists, the father with his own camera trained above his head as he took shot after shot of the scene. 

"Excuse me," Harry started, stepping towards them, "Would y'mind taking our photo, please?" 

The tourist agreed with a bright Sure!, taking Harry's phone from him once being instructed on how to use it. Guiding them back to where (Y/N) stood in wait, she saw as the rest of the family seemed to notice what was going on. The mother and the daughter of the group took in (Y/N)'s presence, eyes widening while the father went along oblivious. They recognized her, that much she could tell.

She didn't know what to process first, honestly. Harry wanting her to be in his picture, or the whispers that were currently being shared by the family in front of her, eyes glancing in her direction more often than not. 

"Here, alright?" Harry asked, looking down at where she stood at his side, "Or do y'want to move?" 

"Here is fine," she said, a slight smile on her features. 

"Ready?" the father asked, poising Harry's phone for the best angles.

Wordlessly, Harry offered her his arm. She hesitated for only a second, turning into him with one hand fitting into the crook of her elbow with the other on the broad of his shoulder. She couldn't help the bright grin on her features, no longer a part of the pose she was giving for the camera. The whole of his side was pressed against her, reminding her of the only bright spots she experienced during the Gala: when Harry held her. 

She happily posed beside him as the tourist tapped away at Harry's phone, changing the angles once or twice. "Are these alright?" he asked once he was finished, holding the phone out for Harry to take.

Breaking away from his side, (Y/N) lingered closer than she figured was probably normal as he flicked through the additions to his camera roll. She tried not to read too far into the slight smile on his lips as he did so. 

"These are perfect, thank you," he responded, fitting his phone back into his pocket. 

"Thank you," (Y/N) parroted, feeling the eyes of the daughter and mother on her during her brief speech. 

Pleasantries were exchanged, Harry offering to take a photo of the family that was waved off before parting ways. The daughter only glanced back at her once after. 

That bubbly feeling in (Y/N)'s stomach remained when she turned her gaze towards Harry. "Did you want one of just you, or anything?" 

Harry shook his head, curls of brown hair fluffing over his head. "'M okay," he told her, "I like these." 

(Y/N) didn't know what to say, instead allowing a small smile to settle on her lips. Redirecting her gaze to the Tower, she did her best to pretend like she wasn't hanging off of every word he was giving. 

"Can we come back?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) fell back into the moment, her eyes sweeping across the land on him. "Hm?" 

"I want to come back at night when the lights are on, if that's alright." 

This time she couldn't suppress the toothy smile that fit onto her lips.

"I think we could do that." 

Maybe they could grab another photo together, the tower shimmering behind.

—————

"Are you okay with one more stop?" 

Harry, now familiar with the route from the train station to the apartment, guided them back down the pedestrian streets. He looked down at her from where the sun was gliding over her skin, the late afternoon hours catching up with the sinking sun. 

"I think I can handle it," he mused, maneuvering her out of the way of a large group. "What did you have in mind?" 

(Y/N) perked up at his agreement. She walked with a bounce in her steps as if her muscles weren't beginning to ache from the full day of sightseeing. Despite the grumble in her stomach and her throat feeling a little too dry to be normal, she felt light. Showing Harry around and introducing him to the country's greatest landmarks was more than worth it. 

His camera roll was full of photos of the day, a good handful of them including (Y/N) after he beckoned her to join him. Even the places they didn't have time to properly visit (the Lourve being the most notable one), Harry didn't seem annoyed that she wanted to spend a moment outside, instead indulging her with taking photos and asking about her own experiences. There were separate days entirely that they planned on using to visit the vast amount of libraries and museums in the area. 

"There's a place by the apartment called the Les Duex Magots," she said, peering around the neighbourhood in hopes of catching sight of the awning. 

"And what's special about it?" 

Catching sight of it down the walkway, there was the same line down the walk that there always was at this time of day. The patio was warm and glimmering in the sunlight, tiny cups of coffee and pastries out on the tables beside people who brought their journals and laptops. Conversations in French fluttered in the wind, carrying inspiration.

"This is where a bunch of artists, and authors, and philosophers would come and sit and make some of the stuff that's now in the museums. Amazing stuff has come from here," she said, wonder in her tone. What would it have been like to be those people, scribbling away in journals or sketching on napkins unknowing of what would come later.

Looking down at her, Harry crooked an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he asked, the golden sun ferreting out the bright flecks in the moss of his eyes. 

"Mhm," she hummed, a beaming smile on her face, "It's a little bit of a tourist trap now, but I still think it's special." 

A beat passed, Harry's observant eyes grazing over the planes of her face. "Let's go then, yeah?" 

(Y/N) felt the creases beside her eyes deepen with the width of her smile. "Yeah," she repeated, her voice sounding softer than she'd ever heard without cameras present. 

Approaching the end of the line, (Y/N) could hear murmurings of the wait time. The estimates were closer to that of an hour before they would be offered a table—and that's assuming that the patio patrons don't linger. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) began inching around the line in hopes of catching a glimpse of those on shift. She played with the edges of her acrylics as she weighed her options. 

Turning back to face Harry, she started towards the front of the line. "I'll be right back." 

"Where are you going?" Harry pressed, stepping to follow her on instinct. 

"I'm just going to check on something, but wait right here. I'll be back in a second," she promised, shooting him a small smile. 

After a beat, Harry stood down. "Jus' stay where I can see you, please," he conditioned, his hands coming to clasp together at his front. 

With that, (Y/N) continued towards the front in hopes of seeing a familiar face. While there was a bit of guilt over the privilege of being recognized in places like these, special treatment coming around from certain people, there were days like these where she intended to bury it away. If being recognized and taking up favors allowed for Harry to have a special day, that's what she would do. 

That's why she didn't feel so bad when she saw the familiar face of one of the higher ups of the cafe, his brown eyes widening when he took her in through the glass entryway. 

"(Y/N), mon chéri! Bonjour, bonjour!" he bubbled off as he stepped around the awaiting patrons.  He greeted her with open arms, happily wrapping her in a hug before pressing a duo of kisses to her cheeks. 

(Y/N) fawned under the attention, "Bonjour, Benoit! Je suis si heureux de te voir! J'avais peur que tu me manques ce soir." 

Onlookers watched their interaction, none seemingly paying much attention to who (Y/N) was other than the fact she was cozying up with someone of the establishment. 

"Je ne savais même pas que tu étais à Paris, ma chérie," Benoit mused, his words tumbling over each other the way they always did with the amount of energy that seemed to always be coursing through him. He began inching her towards the entrance, soft hand on her elbow, "Je suis content que tu ne m'aies pas manqué non plus, allez allez."

"C'était un voyage de dernière minute, donc je n'ai pas eu l'occasion de le dire à beaucoup de gens," she responded, sinking her feet in before she could wander out of Harry's line of sight, "Mais, j'ai amené un ami avec moi cette fois, ça te dérange si je l'attrape d'abord?" 

Benoit dropped his hand from her, "Non, non ça ne me dérange pas!" 

He shooed her off with a flick of his wrist, expectantly waiting for her to return with her friend. 

Stepping around the line, she beckoned Harry to her with a short smile. 

"What's going on?" Harry murmured once he was close enough, head low to match his tone. 

"I know someone here, and I think he's going to get us a table early," (Y/N) mumbled, molding her features into a pleasant smile as they approached Benoit. 

(Y/N) just hoped Harry wouldn't think less of her for using this small advantage. She wanted to keep this special day going for him, even if that meant pulling a few strings so he would have a chance to eat sooner rather than later. 

Rejoining her friend, she gestured to Harry with a flourish. "Benny, c'est Harry. C'est sa première fois à Paris, alors je lui ai montré tous les meilleurs spots aujourd'hui." 

Benoit fawned under the compliments, guiding them towards the entrance as he fanned himself over his shoulder. "Oh, alors bien sûr vous l'avez amené me rencontrer. Merci ma chérie, le sentiment est réciproque." 

Letting out a peal of laughter, (Y/N) took Harry's arm in her grasp and towed him behind. Following Benoit, she indulged in his idle chatter while they meandered through the full tables. Finding their way to the back, she saw as he muttered something to one of the servers, her eyes flitting over her manager's shoulder to spot her and Harry. Benoit dropped them off at a table farther in the back, as secluded as they could get in the crowded restaurant. 

He looked at her with an arched brow as he pulled out a chair for her. "C'est parfait, mon amour!" she answered his unsaid question. 

"Magnifique!" he cheered, pushing in her chair once she was situated against the cushioned bottom, Harry across the table. "Colette s'occupera de toi, mais dis-moi si tu as besoin de quoi que ce soit, ma chérie!"

Benoit left their table in a flourish, dramatically French as always. Directing her attention back to her companion, (Y/N) found Harry looking at her with his forearms on the table and raised brows. 

She felt a bit silly now, knowing he saw the whole interaction and the specific strings she pulled to get this table. "I've known him since I started coming to Paris by myself after I turned eighteen," she started, dropping her eyes to the menu in front of her, "He would check up on me a lot and make sure I was alright. He's like my older brother." 

"That's very nice of him," Harry murmured, that arch to his brow lowering, "What was his name, again?" 

"Benoit," she answered, reading over the French script on her menu, "I kinda feel bad about letting him have us skip the line, but at the same time, I'm really hungry." 

"I don't blame you," Harry muttered, amusement tinting his tone as he looked at his own menu. 

A beat of silence passed before she heard a quiet oh from across the table. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, taking her eyes off the laminate to land on Harry. 

He had his menu flat on the table, the glimmering script taking her eyes while he read it over. He startled at her question, his gaze flicking up towards her. 

"This place is jus'... different than what I thought," he shared. 

"What do you mean?" 

Rolling his neck, his head cushioned by his shoulders, she watched as he tried to find his words. "I thought this was a café, so I don't think I was expecting everything else." 

Glancing down at her menu, trying to find what would have taken him by surprise, she found the context. She couldn't imagine he knew much French, especially with the way she took the lead today when speaking to locals and understanding directions. The only thing she could see him clearly understanding were the gilded numbers beside the items. 

Ducking her head low, she craned her neck towards him as if they could really share a secret in this crowded restaurant. 

"It's definitely overpriced," she murmured to him, flicking her eyes to the menu in his hand, "There's better stuff for cheaper around the corner, but I think it's all about the experience. We're where some of the greatest people in history have sat." 

That phantom smile reached his lips once more as he looked at her over the table, buttery golden light reaching through the windows panelling the front. "I can see that," he mused, the impression of a dimple showing for just a moment to the right of his raspberry lips. 

She matched his smile, though hers was decidedly less hidden. She lingered in that space for another moment before pulling back. "I'll take care of everything today, anyway. Don't worry about it." 

No way was she going to let him pay for himself when this entire day was her idea, she decided. She doubted Harry would want to hear that, though, considering she was beginning to see just how seriously he took his job of her wellbeing. 

When she could still feel his eyes on her, something sharper behind his usual observant gaze, she decided to ignore the protests he would give. 

"Do you know what you want?" she asked instead, not taking her eyes off of the menu. 

When he didn't immediately answer, she peeked over the edge of her menu through the fan of her lashes. He had his eyes trained on the script once more, a pinch between his brows. Harry canted his head as he read. "Everything's in French." 

"Yeah," she responded simply.

A huff of laughter left him at her answer. "Yeah." 

"Do you want me to translate anything for you?" she asked, scooting her chair in that much more as if it would make a difference. 

"That might help," he accepted, "As 'm sure y'noticed today, I don't know really any French." 

Reaching across the table, she pointed through the categories on the menu, listing them off for Harry in English. "And, there's croissants and pastries and stuff, here," she finished, circling out the final section on the page. 

Harry squinted at the page, his head canted to the side as he examined for himself. "What's that?" he asked, pointing out one of the main courses, "That's a sandwich, right?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) chirped, tipping her head to get a chance to run over the script, "It's a smoked salmon sandwich with avocado and fries, and a bunch of other yummy stuff." 

"Oh. How do you say it?"

"Club sandwich au saumon fumé 'petrossian',"(Y/N) responded simply in the French pronunciation of the meal, swirling the syllables into something fluid. Flicking her gaze up, she found his eyes trained on her.

When he was caught, he blinked down and pointed at another item on the menu. "What's that?" 

Following his direction, she told him, "Snails, but they're these really big kind, an—" 

"No, no—in French." 

"Oh," she started, a pinch appearing in her brow. Nonetheless, she repeated her words in her alternate language, "Escargots géants et sauvages de Bourgogne."

Harry's eyes lingered on her before he pointed at the menu once more, another sandwich at the end of his finger. "This?" 

Though it was clear Harry wasn't necessarily paying much attention to what she was saying, but still she humored him. "Crottin chaud sur pain Poilâne poivré—it's just goat cheese on bread." 

This time, Harry didn't even look at where his finger landed randomly on the page, his eyes fixed on her. "This?" 

She couldn't keep her laughter in this time. "Harry," she smiled, "That's a croissant." 

Blinking with a flutter of his lashes, he finally looked at where his hand was pointing. "Oh, yeah," he agreed, a huff of soft laughter falling from his lips.

Giving up on the game, (Y/N) cradled her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. "I can teach you some French if you want?" 

Looking up at her, the length of his lashes highlighted in the draping sunlight. "Yeah?" 

"Of course," she agreed with a curling smile. Tracing her eyes over the menu, she randomly picked a wine from the list. Tilting the page towards him, with her finger pointing at the name. "Do you want to try saying this?" 

"Maybe," Harry mused, squinting his eyelids to take in the diacritics over the letters. 

"Just repeat after me: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She could feel Harry's eyes on her lips, her mouth wrapping around the syllables and twirling through the accent. 

A beat passed before Harry seemed to snap into the moment. He clumsily attempted to pronounce the wine, struggling with the first word as if he hadn't just heard how to say it. 

"No, no, like this," she said, with a soft breath of laughter, "Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She emphasized the particle he stumbled over, dipping her chin and slowing her words. 

Once again, he murmured the incorrect pronunciation though he did a hair better than before. 

"Better," she praised, a caveat coming just from the tone of voice, "But try this: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune."

When he copied her once more, he somehow butchered the words that much more. (Y/N) couldn't help the peal of laughter that filled the space between them, rising over the dull roar of the restaurant. She could feel eyes flittering to her, taking in her disruptive presence with some recognizing her and others just annoyed in the most French of fashion. Though, (Y/N) didn't care. 

There was a part of her that had to know that he was playing up his inability, she liked thinking his guard might have fallen some. She remembered thinking that she couldn't imagine anything Harry couldn't handle or wasn't the best at. It wasn't much, but this was the most vulnerable she'd seen him, and all it took was a shaky accent and butchered French wine. 

"You'll get it soon," she breathed out a laugh, cradling her chin in her palm. 

"Yeah? You'll keep helping me, then?" he pressed, that ghost dimple pressing into his cheek. 

(Y/N) allowed her eyes to travel over his features. She took in the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the blonde stubble over his cheeks, the gentle lines on the corners of his eyes. If she wasn't careful, her bodyguard was going to be recruited for a runway show. 

"Of course," she confirmed, "You'll be like a local by the time we leave." 

And for a moment, she didn't find herself itching to know when that time would be.

—————

"How do y'say that?" 

"Tomate." 

"That?" 

"Carotte." 

"That?"

"Poireau." 

"That?" 

Looking up from the stall of the farmer's market (Y/N) was browsing, she looked at him with raised brows and a quiet smile. "Are you even trying to learn anymore, or are you just trying to see if I actually know French?" 

Quickly flicking his gaze up to match her own, Harry responded, "I mean, I think 'm learning." 

"Yeah?" she pressed, examining a stalk of celery from one of the stalls, "What are we making for dinner, then?" 

(Y/N) couldn't deny the tiny bit of pleasure she got over hearing him gum around the accented words she told him before they started out for the farmer's market. 

"Close!" she chirped, offering a smile to the attendant of the vegetable stall.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his features brightening from the corner of her eye. 

 "Mhm," she hummed, placing the onion, celery, and tomatoes she wanted on the checkout station at the end of the stall, "With an accent it would be gougeres and bisqué. But, we'll work on that." 

Harry left her be as she conversed with the stall worker, working out the pricing for her ingredients before moving on with the vegetables now stowed in her tote bag. 

Meandering through the stalls, Harry followed behind, diligently scanning the crowd. Even if (Y/N) had stepped out of the public eye for the time being, he didn't slack on his job. Without removing his eyes from the crowded market, he spoke to her in his smooth tone. 

"And a bisque is a soup right?" he murmured. 

(Y/N) hummed in confirmation, having led them to a further back stall with panels of ice spread out under an extensive tent. Spread across the ice was fresh seafood in the form of chilled crabs and bags of large prawns. Lobsters and whole fix were kept in the back, clams and mussels nestled in-between cubes of replenished ice. 

"Isn’t it a little... hot for soup?" Harry prodded from behind her. 

Shrugging, (Y/N) absently answered, "That's what you'd think. Then you have some soup and realize it doesn't really matter what the weather is, soup is always good." Taking a step towards the table, she looked at him, "This is the last thing we need, then we can go." 

He didn't have a chance to respond before (Y/N) was selecting seafoods to be added to their bisque, the last thing on the list before they would need to head back to the apartment. He stood back as she plucked up her ingredients and spoke to the attendant, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

With her tote now filled with her finds, the shells of the crabs pinging against the bottle of white wine beside it, she gave the worker a smile before turning to Harry. Just in time with her own departure, another patron made their move through the tent, blindly crashing into her. His head of dark hair was a flash from the corner of her eye, mumbled apologies being offered in broken French. Before (Y/N) could give much of a response, Harry was at her side. 

Positioning himself in between (Y/N) and the other man, Harry slipped into his bodyguard role, protecting her from even the smallest of accidents. He steadied her on her feet, ensuring she was balanced with a hand on her elbow and another slipping around her waist. The man who had bumped into her was blocked off, rushing away after another muttered apology with his eyes on the ground. 

"Are y'okay?" Harry murmured, towing her to one of the further corners of the tent, away from the other shoppers. 

She nodded her head, allowing him to keep his lingering hold on her before he pulled away. "I'm okay. Sorry," she told him, peering around him in hopes of finding the man to assure him it was alright. Unfortunately, he had slipped away already. Maybe it was from how quickly everything moved, the way the man appeared then seamlessly entered in with the crowd once more, but (Y/N) she recognized the flash of his features she saw. She shook her head from the though, placing her attention back on Harry. "I wasn't looking where I was going." 

His observant gaze flitted over her form, his hands drifting from her. "'S alright, as long as you're okay," he assured her, "M'job has been a lot easier here, so I don't mind stepping in if y'need." 

"Paris is always a little bit easier for me," she told him, following after him as he inched out of the seafood stall into the stream of patrons outside. "I don't think I'm that recognizable here, so that always helps after something like what happened at the Gala." 

Harry visibly tensed as he fell into step beside her. "Have y'heard from your dad at all?" he asked, his gaze cast out ahead of them. 

A beat passed. 

"No. Have you?" 

Harry's jaw ticked at her question. "He's talked to me some, yes." 

(Y/N) left the conversation there, unwilling and uninterested in what that conversation looked like. She doubted it was positive when it came to her.

"You're ready to head back?" Harry prodded after a moment, decidedly less tense after the silence. 

"Yes, please," she answered simply. 

—————

Spreading her mail across the tiled counter, (Y/N) froze when she felt an envelope that was a little too heavy to belong amongst the thin slips. 

While she knew it was slowly beginning to leak that she had escaped to Paris, blurry photos resurfacing with people questioning if it could really be her, she figured it would be too up in the air for a letter like this to show up. 

Slipping her finger under the flap of the creamy envelope, (Y/N) couldn't help her curiosity. What kind of photos could have been obtained when she swore she didn't see a single person following her, a single professional camera aimed in her direction. Harry would have no doubt seen anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't imagine anything slipping under his watch, let alone an envelope's full. 

Taking advantage of the time she had alone, Harry using the restroom before he would be used as an extra pair of hands, she pulled out the glossy photos. 

Photos of her stepping into her apartment building greeted her first, her pilates uniform adorning her body. Harry had been cropped from the shot, but the edge of his arm could be seen from where he followed behind her. Others of her going to the studio, climbing into Harry's car, sightseeing around the city were in the bundle. There were shots of them at the Eiffel Tower, cruising the pedestrian walkways, catching dinner at the café. There were even pictures of them on the train together, close enough to capture her shock when she almost stumbled after the jolting take off. 

It was odd to say the least. Not once in any of those places—especially on the train—had she spotted a camera that could produce the kind of quality these photos possessed. 

Underneath them all was a letter. The paper was soft against the pads of her fingers, the edges of her nails catching the folded seam. She swallowed at the sight of the worn paper. 

This was the first time in at least a year that she even opened one of these envelopes, she wasn't sure she could stomach reading a letter at the same time. 

Just then, the sound of the sink running filtered into her brain. Harry would be out here soon, and he couldn't see this. 

In a split second, she collected the photos in a jumbled mess and slipped them back inside the envelope. She practically sprinted across the apartment to her room. The letter found a new home in the bottom drawer of her vanity, under a stack of eyeshadow palettes she rarely used anymore. 

She emerged from her room at the same time Harry stepped into the common room. His eyes were cast towards the kitchen where she was sure he expected to find her. 

"When do y'think dinner will be ready?" he asked, flicking his eyes towards her once he caught her leaving her room. 

Forgetting the letter in her room, the small fire she doused in the vanity drawer, she gave him a look with raised brows. "You don't think you're helping?"

—————

"Harry, just keep stirring. I promise it's almost done." 

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to see the impatient slump of his shoulders at her words. She had tasked him with watching the bisqué while she prepped the seafood that would be plopped in at the end, and infusing the butter that was to be dropped in during serving. It wasn't a hard job he was in charge of, but it was one that she would rather be delegated to him. 

"I've been stirring for thirty minutes now," he complained again, his voice closer to that of a petulant child than the calm security detail she knew him to be. 

"It's been, like, five, but okay," she bubbled back, a smile audible in her tone. 

It was almost endearing to see him like this, she thought. He'd never played with her before like this, given her this kind of leeway and release under his walls. 

"(Y/N)," he tried again, as if saying her name was enough to convince her. 

Carrying her cutting board of prepped seafood—rich crab and tiny shrimp—she came up behind him on careful steps. "Okay, okay," she relented, "We just need to put the crab and everything in, let it simmer for another five minutes since we already cooked it, and then it's done. Can you handle that?" 

"Finally," Harry sighed, acting as if pounds of weight were being lifted off of his shoulders. All because he couldn't handle stirring a soup for longer than a handful of minutes. 

Letting out a huff of laughter, she shook her head. From the corner of her eye, she definitely caught those dimples in his cheeks once more, this time a little less than those of a phantom. 

"Go deal with the gougeres, then. I'll finish the bisqué." 

"Okay," he mumbled, a little too eager to let go of the wooden spoon he had been equipped with. As he approached the cooling pan of the small savory pastries, (Y/N) could hear him attempting to pronounce the name in a proper accent. 

A grin stretched across her features at the sound. 

Soon enough, the bisqué was doled out between wide bowls, a dollop of butter dropped on top with Harry's arranged platter of gougeres in the middle. The balcony drapes were wide open, allowing a view over the city, buttery and warm under the waning light. The ladder of the Eiffel Tower glimmered like gold in the light, the green around it that much more vivid in the distance. 

(Y/N) waited to take her first bite, resisting the lumps of crab meat and spiced broth in front of her, until Harry took his spot across. She was surely a little too eager to see him take his first bite, to catch his reaction. 

"I want you to try it first," she told him once he was settled in, a toothy smile on her features. 

"Yeah?" he asked, already picking up the wide spoon she had selected for him. He flicked his gaze up to match hers with raised brows. 

(Y/N) only answered with a small nod, a little too distracted from the view of his eyes. 

He maintained that eye contact with her as he scooped up a fruitful bite, taking to heart that she wanted him to try it first in hopes of learning his reaction. She wanted to feel unnerved by it, awkward knowing that he wasn't wavering in the contact, but she couldn't find that in her when she was glancing at the bits of sunlight amongst the green. 

Taking that first bite, it took half a second before Harry was humming with his full mouth. He was impressed, that much she could tell from the reverence he gave as he looked down at his bowl. "This is good—really good." 

Practically bouncing in her seat, (Y/N) bubbled, "I told you so! All the stirring was worth it, huh?" 

Canting his head, Harry playfully contemplated her words. "I guess so," he relented with a heavy sigh. 

A lopsided smile touched at the very corner of his mouth. 

Blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) tried not to be too fixated on the half smile he was offering her. "Try it with one of the gougeres!"

Feeling vindicated, (Y/N) began her own meal, scooping up a hearty bite of the bisqué, steam rolling off the bite. She couldn't wait for it to cool, chancing that heated bite in favor of trying it sooner rather than later. 

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I have a feeling you know 'm going to say this is good, huh?" Harry teased, reaching for one of the cheese pastries from the platter. 

"Sure," she said, swallowing down the rich soup, "But, I like to hear it anyway." 

Shaking his head a little, he scooped up the bisqué with the help of the gougere. "Do you always cook like this?" he asked, allowing the tomato broth to soak the treat, "I didn't notice anything like this back in the States." 

"Sometimes," she said in-between her own bites, savoring the spice she added to the broth, "when I have the time. But I tru to make the time whenever I can. It's one of my favorite things to do." 

"Cooking?" Harry pressed, sinking into the conversation between indulgent bites of dinner. 

She nodded her head with a hum, stealing her own gougere. "It's really fun to me," she explained, "When I was little, my parents were gone a lot so I spent a lot of time with the chefs we had, so I learned a lot then. When I started at my private school, though, that's when I started making my own stuff for me and my friends. It's just been one of those things that's stuck with me." 

Harry watched her intently, soaking her in with those observant eyes. She could see him making connections in his head, fitting puzzle pieces of her in his head. The thought made (Y/N) want to squirm. At the same time she was itching to know what kind of picture he was threading of her, she dreaded to know any kind of detail. 

"What did I tell you, though?" she started, changing the subject with her gaze falling from him, "Soup is good all the time—even in the summer." 

Nodding his head, Harry pursed his lips. "Today, I will allow you to be right. Jus' today, though." 

Sinking into the moment, she allowed a peal of laughter to fall from her lips. Harry looked at her with a hidden smile. his teeth keeping him from fully grinning even if (Y/N) swore she could see that kind of amusement in his eyes. 

—————

Fran🫧

    guess what !!! 

Sipping on her purple juice, (Y/N) read her text messages before she would commit to her post-pilates shower for the morning. 

   what !!!???

A beat passed while (Y/N) swiped to another app, a video of a decadent dessert recipe on her screen. Francesca didn't wait very long to respond, the notification getting (Y/N)'s eyes to widen and her immediate rerouting to her message thread. 

Fran🫧

    im on a flight to Paris rn :) 

Sitting up straight from where she was lounging on her bed, (Y/N) typed back an immediate response. 

      are you serious right now???? 

      ur joking right 

In response, a selfie of Francesca came through, her smiling face backed by the pristine leather of her private jet with her favorite pajama set adoring her torso. 

      Francesca stop 

      youre kidding right :( 

Fran🫧

       im not joking!!!! 

       I wanted to visit you !!! its been almost a month (Y/N):( I missed you!!!! 

(Y/N) was practically thrumming with excitement. She hadn't realized how much she missed her best friend until she was presented with the opportunity to be reunited with her.

       when are you landing!!!!!! 

       if you can we need to do dinner or something! 

Fran🫧

        ofc we do ! I'll text u when I land and when I get to my place and then I'll see what im doing and if im not too jet lagged

         Emma was also thinking about coming this weekend too but last I checked she was seeing what stavros is doing 

         bc shes obsessed rn 

(Y/N) huffed out laughter at her message. She missed Emma too, more than she expected to considering Emma hadn't even known she was on her way out before she had booked her flight. 

       at least she's happy I guess sufhsufhsu 

      im so excited to see you ive miss u so much!!!!!! 

When Francesca's response bubble didn't immediately pop up, (Y/N) locked her phone, flouncing out of her room with a bubbling grin. Pulling open her bedroom door, she saw Harry cleaning up the kitchen from the morning's breakfast before her pilates class, his head whipping up to catch her emergence. 

"Harry, guess what!" 

"What?" he asked, swiping a cloth across the counter. 

"Fran is coming to visit," (Y/N) rushed out, "She's on a flight right now!" 

"Francesca?" he asked, his movements slowing as he looked at her with raised brows. 

"Yes! She just texted me," she explained, her grin sticking to her cheeks, "And, Emma might be able to come out this weekend." 

It was practically visible the way the gears in his head began turning. Apprehension appeared as he leant against the lip of the counter. "That's exciting," he granted her, "What plans do y'have with her?" 

That was her security speaking then. He was the one with thinned lips and narrow eyes. 

"I'm not sure yet," she said, gesturing with her smoothie and phone in hand, "I'm just thinking about dinner with Fran when she lands, but I'm sure if Emma's able to make it out, we'll want to go out together." 

He gave her a slow nod, things working behind the scenes as he blinked at her. "Okay." 

The longer that beat of silence rang on, (Y/N) felt unease creep in. Maybe Harry didn't trust her as much as she thought. 

She'd been doing so well since he helped her out of that rut those first few days, but maybe he worried bringing her friends back into the equation would elicit something he hoped they left back in New York. She wondered if he had those pictures of her in mind, the runny mascara and panic she had in the bathroom of the gallery. 

Leveling her energy, she made a point to meet his contemplative gaze. "I promise I'll behave. I won't cause any trouble or anything." 

Shaking his head, Harry dismissed her in a moment. "'M not worried about that, (Y/N)." 

Unable to school her features, she felt her eyes widen and posture straighten. She couldn't think of a time when she wasn't anticipated as the trouble maker. 

"You're not?" 

Blinking out of his head, Harry shook his head again, meeting her eyes with intention. "Don't worry about me, okay?" he told her, voice gentle in the space between, "Its m'job to think of all the scenarios and everything, but 's not something y'need to concern yourself with. Let me do that, you jus' have fun." 

Though she was a bit dumbstruck, unable to really understand how to move forward without that kind of expectation following her, she still nodded her head. Nonetheless, even if Harry wasn't looking for that kind of promise, she would give it to herself. She wasn't going to stir any kind of drama or trouble. 

She'd make Harry proud.

—————

Francesca, leaning over the dinner table with a makeup free face and her travel clothes on her form, gave (Y/N) a sly smile. 

"So," she started, her voice low as if Harry wasn't already two rooms away from their conversation, privacy being the only other person joining their table, "your bodyguard." 

Nodding her head, (Y/N) plucked a piece of brie from the cheese board they were sharing, "Yeah?" 

"Did something happen?" Francesca pressed, something glimmering in her eyes. 

A pinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?" 

Rolling her brown eyes, Francesca gave her an incredulous look. "Even I've seen those pics of you two at the Eiffel Tower"—honestly, (Y/N) didn't even know there were photos of them together then, having deleted her socials the day after the letter was posted to the penthouse—"and walking in here feels less like your penthouse and more like a... nest for you too. You even line your shoes up next to one another." 

Taken aback, (Y/N) could feel the way her features screwed up at Fran's remarks. "You're silly, Fran," she said, focusing on the cracker she was loading with cheese. 

Francesca shook her head and stood her ground, light amusement curling her lips. "You're lying, and you know it." 

"I'm not, though," (Y/N) countered, covering her mouth as she took a bite of the crumbly cracker. 

Shrugging, Francesca focused on her own overloaded cracker. "Maybe it's him then," she offered, looking at (Y/N) with that sly curve to her lips, "I don't know, all I'm saying is that the vibes are very different from the last time I saw you—and him. Every time he walks out here, it's like he doesn't even see me. He's only looking at you." 

"He's my bodyguard," (Y/N) stated, as if Fran could forget the fact. "He checks on me." 

"Checking you out," Francesca emphasized, hiding her teasing smile behind a sip of red wine. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes, trying her best to bite back her laughter. "You're so annoying," she teased, "I should've known you were going to say something stupid like that." 

"Whatever," Francesca dismissed, reaching for her phone, "I want to make a post on my Story with you, though. So, pose cute with your wine or something. People are going to go crazy, knowing you're alive outside of blurry pics." 

"People think I'm dead?" (Y/N) laughed, sipping from her wine before fluffing her hair.

Fran shook her head, swiping through her camera to find the right preset. "You'd be surprised how man people actually believe grocery store magazines. Even Damien Moore reached out to Toriana to see if she knew where you were, it's so weird."

"Damien?" she blanched, features screwing up at the mention of his name.

"That was my reaction too," Fran shared, waving her phone in her hand, "I was hoping we'd never have to hear from him again after what happened, but obviously he loves drama."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) couldn't agree more. Definitely the worst of the boys her father tried to set her up with.

When Francesca held her phone up, the camera facing them, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pose. She cradled her glass of wine and got in close to Fran, curling her lips into a warm smile. The buttery lighting of the apartment with the shimmering Paris night leaking in through the windows, (Y/N) felt pretty when she glanced at the reflection. 

Over the edge of Fran's phone, she could see Harry stepping out of the hallway, his steps silent. Though she tried not to pay attention, she couldn't help but to notice the way he really didn't allow his eyes to trace anywhere but her, even when they were doing something as innocent as posing for photos. 

Even when Francesca lowered her phone and went about prepping the photo for posting, Harry didn't step away too quickly. He lingered, the warmth of his gaze on her. 

Surely, he could just be checking on her, noticing how quiet the room became when they started whispering about him and going silent for the photos, but (Y/N) found herself not resenting the other option Francesca presented.

She didn't hate the idea of Harry looking at her just for the sake of looking at her. 

Whatever that was supposed to mean for her.

—————

flâner means to wander aimlessly around a city.

a little change of scenery and time together before we get into some more fun stuff! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any thoughts or ideas let me know!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard harry styles #love on tour #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #satellite

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence

Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!

---

You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel sorry for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only things in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much. 

It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.

A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.

“Are you busy?” It was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”

Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday. 

Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.  

“Oh, look at you, you poor thing. You look awful.” She clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making your nose begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”

You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare. 

“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”

“Oh my, who was he?”

“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”

“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”

You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint. 

“Okay, Carol. We should let her rest now.”

“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”

You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.

Your father was lingering. He never lingered. 

“Everything okay, dad?”

“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I've hired someone.”

“Right.”

“For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”

“A bodyguard?”

“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious. 

“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”

“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”

“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”

“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

---

You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.

Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.

“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.

“James. Nice to meet you.”

You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest. 

“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”

Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.

“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.

“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”

He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”

A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.

A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.

Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.

James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. “You not eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Someone had been talking to dad. 

You shrugged. “This morning, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”

“Thought you were gonna stay out my way?”

“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”

You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

“Deal.”

You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.

The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.

“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”

“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”

“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.

Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?

“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”

“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.

Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair. 

You didn’t need him, you could do this. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing. 

“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.

“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”

“Wait, what are you-”

You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink. 

You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.

He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”

“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”

“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”

“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”

“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”

James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.

“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, supernanny.”

He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.

Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-

“You alright?”

James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Yes.”

You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.

It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.

“Still all good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”

Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man. 

“Real funny.”

He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante. 

The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.

James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”

“I just need a minute.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”

“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”

He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”

“The whole plate.”

“Alright.” 

He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.

“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”

“Was she?”

“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”

You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”

“It was her, the daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”

“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”

“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”

“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”

He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”

“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”

“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”

“You think?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”

Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.

“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”

He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”

“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”

---

You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.

He did not.

As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.

You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“Can’t we just open a window?”

“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”

“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”

You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right. 

He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.

Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing. 

The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open. 

“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”

You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”

You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.

---

Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those. 

Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking. 

You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.

To your great disappointment, he did not. 

“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”

“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”

“Do you know which agency he’s with?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”

“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”

“I see.”

You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you. 

“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”

You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.” 

She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing. 

“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.” 

“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”

“Well, the doctor said-”

“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.” 

“Right…”

“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”

You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.

“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”

The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”

Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense. 

After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name. 

Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”

“That was amazing.”

“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”

“You can ban her?”

“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re my new favourite person.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.

Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.

“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”

“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”

“She won't be bothering you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

---

A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood. 

Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend. 

Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment. 

Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him. 

He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.

Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way. 

You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges. 

“You okay?”

Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.

“Mhmm.”

“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”

“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”

He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.

“Maybe this was too soon.”

“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”

“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”

He seemed angry, but not at you. 

“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”

“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”

You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard. 

He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack. 

He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.

“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”

“Shut up, you look great.”

“For a three-week-old corpse.”

“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”

“Damn right you are.”

You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.

“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”

“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”

“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”

“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”

“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”

“Me too.” 

You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, I could just use a break.”

“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered. 

The two of you held that position for what felt like an age. 

Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I-”

“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”

“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”

You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime. 

Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere. 

He never even said goodbye.

---

You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry. 

So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.

You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.

You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.

Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over. 

So your plan was fucked, then. 

Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.

“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”

“Oh, really?” 

You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father. 

“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.” 

Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first. 

“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you. 

“Can we talk?”

You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."

“In private?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”

“Sorry.” 

He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen. 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”

“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”

“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”

He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever. 

All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”

“Lovely.”

He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.” 

“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”

You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult. 

You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke. 

“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Huh?”

“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”

“Sucking face?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”

“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”

A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”

“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.

“Might be a bad decision.”

“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”

“You can say that again.”

Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.

Now this was a kiss worth being fired for. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”

“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”

“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”

“You sneaky fucker.”

“You know it.”

---

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[marlinspirkhall]

I watched the unaired Selection pilots so you don't have to

But, if you want to, you can do so here, and here (password: “selection”), credit to Media Garage on YouTube

Edit: links no longer active

The Selection (2012)

Strong Hunger Games vibes throughout, the plain-text opening screen isn't helping

Stock-footage of rolling hills gets replayed way too much

ETHAN PECK?

Unlike in the books, America only finds out she's been entered into The Selection after she gets selected, so the plot point about the photoshoot & her radiant smile being the thing which gets her selected no longer applies, I guess

Everyone in the YouTube comments was saying that Aspen and Maxon were miscast & the actors' roles should have been swapped (... No comment. I believe in you, Mr Peck)

This castle is looks too small to fit 24 TV show contestants in it

Fiona, unprompted: “Can you keep a secret, America?”

America: “I have been known to”

Fiona: “I play the violin”

Okay? (This is actually a very sweet moment and, again, Fiona may be the best actress in this)

This episode covered a significant portion of the first book, out of order, which makes me wonder if the intention was to cover all 3 books in one series.

This almost feels like half of a film, making me wonder if someone adapted a film spec script into a tv show spec script

Apparently, Fiona has a secret child and Celeste knows about it, causing Fiona to drop out on day one and tearfully warn America to “trust no one, there's no such thing as friends here”- which is a fucking wild thing to say when she's probably the only contestant who's been nice to America so far & Celeste didn't even need to get to know her to know her secrets because she has spies anyway 😭

It's worth reminding you that they have been at the palace for one entire day total

You think Queen Amberly is being fleshed out in this version but... Hmm

Amberly appears to be the one pulling the strings from behind the scenes (she confronts Celeste about extorting Fiona, tells her "she would have gone home in due time" and to "leave America to me. Anything we do to try and separate them [her and Maxom] will only make him want her more")

Again: IT HAS BEEN A DAY

America sees her servant gathering all her dresses (none of which she has used yet, bar the yellow and green ones) including the iconic blue one from the book cover. America asks what's happening and the servant replies: “Prince Maxom's orders”

Cut to America's family. They open a box with a glittering pair of high heels inside. I guess this is supposed to mirror the part of the book where Maxom cuts off the stipend for 2's and 3's who are in the selection?

If you think this version feels unfaithful to the book, just wait until you see The CW's pilot

IT HAS BEEN ONE DAY

Runtime: one day 45 minutes

Final rating: 5/10, kinda long and stiff in places and the set design was all over the place. Felt like a Hallmark movie (the set design didn't help). Probably would watch another episode of this if it was a full series or a limited series of 3-6 episodes. A little script-doctoring and a better set would work wonders.

The Selection (2013)

I cannot stress enough: this version begins with a sex scene between Maxom and a servant

Okay, I got ahead of myself; it actually begins with another hunger-games-esque black screen with text on it, text which reads “Someday, in the future”, which is read aloud by a woman's voice.

We zoom in on a much roomier-looking castle on a hill, as a random whip sound effect plays (leading into the sex scene, in which no whips are present)

All the female servants in the palace are dressed in sexy maid costumes and I wish I was kidding

The world map explaining the history of Illea is CONFUSING AS HELL, but maybe they hadn't nailed down all the details yet. I'm genuinely not sure

ANTONY HEAD?

Aspen is introduced tied to a St Andrew's cross and being watched over by a guard. America asks the guard to free him, he chases her through the streets, she circles back and cuts Aspen down

America's selection is similar to the 2012 pilot, except Aspen is present. America asks her mom why she'd enter her into the selection when “You know I'm with Aspen”, so uh, I guess they're not keeping it a secret here.

There's also no mention of Aspen being of a lower caste than her, nor of America having a job other than the vague title of "laboring class" which hangs over them all, vaguely

This is a masterclass in editing and pacing. The dialogue is okay, but the added geopolitics make no sense. Any issues with this are smoothed over by the fact that the plot keeps moving forwards at a breakneck pace to keep you distracted.

The lack of breathing room would probably be too confusing for an audience who wasn't already familiar with The Selection

The set here is absolutely beautiful but unfortunately it gives me Merlin vibes, and casting Antony Head as the king does not help with this.

Maxon attempts to pull a Mr Darcy. He then tells America that if she runs away with Aspen, the guards will beat him to a pulp and they'll both spend the rest of their lives in prison. America suggests that she make the monarchy look good so the working class don't side with the rebels. Looks like we're going full Hunger Games.

Celeste's handmaiden seems way too devoted to her; they turn out to be lovers

Just when you think Maxon might start redeeming himself, we see the palace guards swarm Aspen and kicking him. Maxom stands nearby on his horse overseeing this so there's no question of whether he did it or not

Final rating: 6/10, I would absolutely watch another episode of this. It was an absolute mess, but I've seen teen wolf, so I'm not gonna pretend I'm above it.

This feels like the kind of pilot which would get greenlit just to attract hateviewers.

Summary:

Neither protagonist had red hair and neither adaptation was trying particularly hard to give it to her (2012: dark red box dye. 2013: blonde!)

These actors are doing their best and some of them even seem to be having fun (good for them)

In the 2013 pilot, the writers lampshade America running around “like an action hero”, but she promptly forgets how to do that by the midpoint of the episode, so w/e

It feels like the 2013 pilot was a reworking of the 2012 pilot, because there were too many similarities carried over from one script to another which weren't present in the original book, like Fiona having a secret relationship.

I forgot to mention that Aspen has a brother in the 2013 pilot. He seems to be adapted from the palace guard who has a relationship with one of the contestants in a later book.

I can't get over how fucking weird of a decision it is to make the kind and likeable love interest into a power-corrupt despot, but it does feel more true to an actual monarchy. I assume they were trying to give Maxon a bad-boy vibe, which doesn't make much sense because that's supposed to be Aspen's whole deal.

There was a whole subplot in both pilots where an advisor character is revealed to be working with the rebels at the end of the episode

Extremely funny to me that the 2012 pilot makes a point of mentioning that sex before marriage is illegal and the 2013 pilot opens with premarital sex with the prince regent

#The Selection series #The Selection #Kiera Cass #Anthony Head #Ethan Peck #dystopian fiction #YA fiction #undescribed #America Singer #Prince Maxon #long post

[foxy-eva]

Just an Act

Summary: Reader is an actress who did a movie with a lot of spicy scenes - Spencer wants to watch it with her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) discussions of sex scenes in a movie, mild jealousy (Spencer), possessiveness, unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: I wrote this as a standalone but it could be read as a sequel to Daring & Decent

Request by anon: I had an idea with your fic where the reader is an actress and I was thinking what if you made like a filler or a pt 2 where Spencer and reader watch her spicy scenes for the first time together 

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

Dating as an actress could be a little bit tricky sometimes. From complicated schedules to filming at distant locations or certain scenes I’d have to do – all that had been issues in the past. 

With Spencer everything seemed so uncomplicated for once. 

He was understanding and respected my wish for him not to watch any of my works – just because I thought it was a little awkward. However, once he found out about a particular movie I starred in, he had a hard time talking about anything else. 

Curiosity over what all the fuss was about seemed to really affect him. I thought that telling him about what was happening in the movie in detail might help but it only seemed to make it worse. Sometimes it only took seconds for him to get visibly aroused when I described a particularly raunchy scene I did. 

There was something about the idea of seeing me naked on the big screen that really intrigued him. 

If he was aware of how much fun I had with teasing him about that I couldn’t tell. To end his suffering at last, I decided to ask him if he wanted to watch the movie after all. He agreed before I even had the chance to finish my sentence.  

That was how we ended up sitting beside each other on my couch on a Sunday afternoon, my spiciest movie playing on the TV. I took more interest in watching his reactions than the film itself. 

The first impure scene was of my character pleasuring herself. 

I noticed how Spencer’s pupils dilated and his cheeks began glowing when he witnessed that. He licked his lips once the room filled with the sounds of my fake moans and I wondered if he could tell the difference between real ones. 

When he caught me staring at him, he cleared his throat, obviously searching for the right words to ask what he really wanted to know. 

“Is that… uhm…,” he muttered, “...How you actually do it? In real life I mean?” 

“I guess you’ll have to watch me sometime to find out,” I teased. 

His eyes widened at my words, the poor boy apparently too stumped to find his voice. I placed a soft kiss on his burning cheek and encouraged him to focus back on the movie. As a scene of a heavy make-out session with my character’s love interest came on, I noticed how Spencer kept shifting in his seat, almost as if watching me acting in a love scene made him nervous. 

Once things took a spicy turn, his demeanor changed. Suddenly he became cocky, huffing at what he was seeing on screen. 

“That’s not how you touch a woman,” he scoffed. “What is he even doing?”

“He’s following the script,” I reminded him. 

It was as if he tried to mock the other actor when he said, “You don’t even like that position.” 

“It’s just an act, Spencer.” 

When my character got closer to her breaking point on screen, words seemed to suddenly fail Spencer again. It was all the confirmation I needed to know that my acting was in fact very convincing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re jealous or turned on,” I snickered. 

He took a moment to answer me, sighing dramatically before mumbling, “A little bit of both.” 

My eyes fell to his lap, noticing the growing bulge straining against his pants the longer he watched the scene. I couldn’t help but tease him some more. 

“Don’t you think my boobs look amazing in that scene?”

He looked at me with a confused expression on his face, stating, “They always look amazing.”

“Are you sure?” I purred as I took my shirt and bra off to reveal myself to him. “Even in this lighting?” 

For a brief moment he couldn’t decide whether to look at my bare figure on screen or in front of him but kept his eyes on me eventually. 

With a smug grin painted over his face he chuckled, “Actually, I think they’d look better with my hands on them.” 

I pointed at the actor on TV and giggled, “Even better than his hands?” 

That was what made him snap as he harshly grabbed my waist to pull me into his lap. His mouth and hands were on my chest in a matter of seconds, caressing me with more enthusiasm than I had expected. I began rocking against the hardness in his pants once he focussed his attention to the peaks of my breasts. The moans falling from my lips weren’t unlike what we heard before but everything else was completely different. 

Spencer noticed that, too. 

“He’s a fool. He wouldn’t know how to please you,” he breathed against my skin. 

It was as if he tried to claim back his territory by letting his hands greedily roam over my body, shedding every piece of fabric that got in the way. I moved with him and mirrored his actions until our bodies could touch without any barriers. I sat on his lap like a queen on a throne, looking at the only admirer I’ll ever need. 

“I bet so many men wished to have you when they saw that movie,” he whispered into my ear before kissing down my neck. “But you’re mine.” 

With my hands cupping his face I guided his lips to meet mine, capturing them in a desperate kiss. His hand slipped between our bodies, finding me already aroused and waiting for his touch. 

“I need to have you,” he groaned. “Now.” 

“Take me,” I demanded.  

He guided his erection to my entrance and I sank down on him slowly. He buried his fingertips into my hips and began bucking upwards while pushing me down on him. I swung my arms around his shoulders and found him in a kiss that kept getting interrupted by the moans and sighs escaping my throat. 

We both became desperate to find relief quickly, moving against each other with more force than we usually would. It didn’t take long for us to fall over the edge together, every throbbing of his length answered by me pulsating around him. With heaving chests and heated cheeks we lingered in this position for a few more moments. 

The movie was still playing in the background while we tried catching our breaths. When we heard my character’s love interest talking again, Spencer chuckled, “He could never fuck you like I can.” 

“Never,” I agreed. “I’m yours.” 

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid  @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @airconsbeswag @conniesanchor @jordierama @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @sweetannanas @feltonswifesworld87 @snowsnow27 @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @l-e-n-a @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[vidavalor]

Do you think Aziraphale has a raging praise kink in addition to his 'food' and 'Crowley watching him do stuff' kinks? *hands you a box of spiced apple muffins, along with the recipe: https://www.hairybikers.com/recipes/view/spiced-apple-muffins*

Hi @jotun-philosopher! A recipe!!! I'm so excited. The website you shared is quite interesting. I'll have to make these on the other side of my holiday food as they look delicious. Do I think Aziraphale has a raging praise kink? Oh, yeah. Raging might be an understatement lol.

Praise kink and trauma thoughts under the cut.

In S2, we go from Lord Beezlebub paralleling Aziraphale, missing their Crowley (Gabriel) while in Hell, and musing that it'd be nice if someone ever told them they were doing a good job over to Aziraphale doing some difficult trauma work in Edinburgh and calling Crowley to talk to him about it. What goes a little undersung here, imo, is the way this is filmed and how Aziraphale can't stop talking about 1827 to a point that Crowley actually has to prompt him into telling him what he learned at the pub about Gabriel. This is because while Aziraphale-- who really didn't need to go to this cemetery at all for any reason related to figuring out what happened to Gabriel-- has been back to Edinburgh since 1827 (Crowley mentions him going to Edinburgh "for the festival" in 1.01), he's never been back to this spot since the night Crowley was yanked to Hell in front of him.

When we come in on Aziraphale at the cemetery, it's right off of that scene in the 1827 flashback and then we watch Aziraphale turn around again, now in the present, right? It's that he does have to turn around that's pretty significant. It says that he's not here because he thought maybe seeing Gabriel's statue again might give him some random insight as to what's happening to Gabriel in the present. He wasn't looking at the statue at first-- we come in on him looking at the spot where Crowley was taken.

Crowley and Aziraphale are in a place between S1 and S2 where Armageddon: Round Two could theoretically happen at any time. They have no idea if it's happening in five years or next Thursday or in an hour, really, and that's made the fact that Aziraphale has really never gotten over 1827 worse for him, to a point that it now bothers him to be away from Crowley for any significant length of time, especially if they've been arguing, because he's always worried that something will happen while they're apart and he'll never see him again. He spent almost a month (estimated by the dates in his diary) in 1827 thinking that had happened. He does some work on that in Edinburgh by deciding to go to the spot again and, when he does, he has to magically get the nearest cell phone so he can talk to Crowley from the spot because he knows that hearing his voice will help.

By telling Crowley that he's looking at the statue of Gabriel, we get in his knowledge that Crowley will understand the significance of this (and in Crowley's response indicating that he does) that they've talked about this at some point. There are other suggestions of that in the season (like the "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own" moment) but this phone conversation says that Aziraphale has verbalized to Crowley at some point how much 1827 still bothers him and Crowley understands that Aziraphale is telling him that he's taking a step towards trying to deal with it more.

(This is also an example of Aziraphale having done something clever and needing to call Crowley to tell him about it before he pops lol, which he's apparently been doing a lot lately since he no longer can get a pat on the back from Heaven, not that he ever did much, which is part of the whole damn problem. One could then perhaps presume that Crowley's been doling out a lot of praise over the phone of late, in addition to in person.)

So Crowley responds to Aziraphale telling him that he's in the cemetery in Edinburgh and looking at the Gabriel statue/trying to deal with 1827 by doing what they do sometimes-- cheer each other up from some depressing stuff about the past with a little of some of each other's favorite sexy chat.

This is basically a mirror in reverse of the scene in S1 in the car on the way to Tadfield where Crowley tells Aziraphale more about the antichrist baby swap and how it went wrong. Crowley was feeling depressed about the whole mess and how Armageddon was imminent now as a result of it and Aziraphale's response was to pivot to what was, effectively, dirty talking him in blasphemous Bible speak euphemisms in a dry-as-all-fuck, combination Pompous Angel/mildly soft dom tone because Crowley's sooooo weak for that lol. (I'm talking about the "seeds of destruction" scene, the dirtiness of which is probably a whole other meta, since we're mostly talking about Aziraphale here.)

Aziraphale's version of that is a massive praise kink. He looooves being told he's good at something or he did a good job or really just anything related to him and goodness, since Heaven's done a number on him and he struggles sometimes to fundamentally believe that he is good, which is lunacy but so are negative thought cycles in the first place. The praise thing with Crowley isn't unhealthy-- I'm not suggesting that. Aziraphale's negative thought cycle is unhealthy, obviously, but the praise kink thing with Crowley is actually not a terrible counter to it. It's obviously not the entire solution to dealing with Heaven's abuse of him but it is also doesn't hurt that Aziraphale believes Crowley and values what he thinks, which can help break up negative thoughts.

It exists both in and out of bed and Crowley was intentionally blending that over the phone in the Edinburgh scene by responding to Aziraphale being like I did the really hard trauma work thing we were talking about today and I'm still here go me with the kind of praise you'd give someone for doing something that was tough ("good job") but delivered low and with the little "mmrmm" before it, which was to associate it with, uh, other kinds of praise Aziraphale has elicited from Crowley before, by way of also invoking Aziraphale's Assorted Rumbly Crowley Sounds Kink as well.

Aziraphale undoubtedly heard it and replied around it, like he was doing with most of Crowley's flirting with him in S2, because driving Crowley slowly insane is also Aziraphale's favorite past time. It was made funnier by the fact that he left Crowley in London to get The Shop Lesbians together, explain The Vavoom to a memory-wiped Jimbriel, answer any questions about love for the Inspector Constable angel Heaven sent to spy on them, and fix Shax's "hot water boiler" so The Love Doctor was in and getting no love himself lol. Crowley's comment wasn't meant to go anywhere anyway, really-- Gabriel was literally five feet away at the time, which was probably also amusing Crowley-- but yeah, I think the conscious, intentional way Crowley phrased that is meant to suggest that Aziraphale not only likes positive reinforcement in life in general but has a bit of a raging praise kink in bed, with which Crowley is very familiar.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens 2 #aziracrow

[dweemeister]

Instant reactions to the 96th Academy Awards

A rough night for me. But there have been rougher ones before. I imagine most of my comments put me in a very lonely minority, as has been apparent the last few months.

But here goes:

For all intents and purposes, yours truly was on the Killers of the Flower Moon train. An extraordinary crime epic from Scorsese, with astounding craftsmanship and fantastic performance from Lily Gladstone. More than what I previously believed possible, a major studio production went out of its way to make sure that its Indigenous American representation on-screen was as genuine as it could possibly be (still imperfect, as the film acknowledges, but what an effort). And yet, KOTFM goes 0/10. I've never had a favored Best Picture nominee be shut out in such a way before. And I'm not surprised at all by it. It was clear that non-American and non-Canadian audiences didn't get the context to the film (a criticism I understand, given the screenplay) and, in other quarters, folks thought it was too long (I admittedly have a higher tolerance for longer movies) and others have said something akin to the fact that they are getting tired over "racial guilt" movies from America. I'm not in the mood to respond to the last one. I think it deserved better tonight. I particularly think Lily Gladstone deserved better tonight.

Stat upheld: two non-white actresses have never won on the same night in Oscar history. History, in and of itself, was always against Gladstone.

Oppenheimer winning? Fine, I guess. It was my #4 choice of the ten Best Picture nominees. I guess Christopher Nolan was overdue, but I have always been a Nolan skeptic. The film certainly is his most humanistic, and I appreciate that. As for the narrative organization and editing trickery? It mostly serves to take me out of the movie. And I don't think Nolan truly understands what thematic film music can accomplish for his movies. I think RDJ should have had much more competition all season long, but he did not. Most people are gonna say this is the return of the Academy's favorite subgenre... the Great Man Biopic. But in composition and structure, Oppenheimer (and even Maestro) resembles very little of the past Great Man Biopics. It'll be interesting to see how history treats this movie.

I disliked Poor Things. I didn't care for its sense of humor, didn't agree with many folks' opinions that it was a magnum opus of female empowerment. I thought it was incredibly male gaze-y and troublingly sanitized its scenes of sex work. Jerskin Fendrix's score was unlistenable outside the context of the film and distracting within it. But it has four Academy Awards and people love this movie, so my opinion can go to heck?

Well done Da'Vine Joy Randolph for her win as Supporting Actress for The Holdovers. I truly hope this opens up a lot more new opportunities for her going for! Wonderful speech.

And speaking of wonderful speeches, both documentary winners got me very emotional. The Last Repair Shop is on YouTube for American and Canadian viewers, and it's simply wonderful. Perhaps the happiest I was all night long! And then came Mstyslav Chernov's speech after winning for 20 Days in Mariupol. Chernov had, arguably, the speech of the night. And I agree with him. I, too, wish he never had to make his film and that he never won this Oscar. But he did his job to document what happened in Mariupol. And for that he (and the Ukrainians suffering and dying in their war versus Russia) deserves our plaudits and support.

Once more, Hayao Miyazaki cannot be bothered to show up to an awards ceremony. It's hilarious! I would have voted Robot Dreams, but The Boy and the Heron is not a winner to sniff at. Spider-Verse will have one more shot.... whenever the third movie comes out?

Good lord, they selected the worst possible winner in Animated Short with War Is Over!. There's an unwritten rule that the Academy, among the fifteen nominated shorts, must select one which will piss me the hell off. And for the second straight year in Animated Short, they have done exactly that, choosing something akin to a soft drink commercial.

Billie Eilish and Finneas are now the youngest and second-youngest ever to win two Oscars, after Luise Rainer (Best Actress for 1936's The Great Ziegfeld and 1937's The Good Earth). That feels very, very weird. In both cases of this record.

The "I'm Just Ken" performance? Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (Like Ken)??? Busby Berkeley choreography? What do the kids say? Inject that straight into my veins? It was wonderful.

And speaking of nods to cinema history, I'm so glad they led off the stunt performers tribute with Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. :,)

And congratulations to Godzilla Minus One and its Best Visual Effects win! After seventy years, Godzilla is now an Oscar-winning franchise, and its win percentage is 100%! Simply wonderful!

I think the moral of the story is that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) has been gradually internationalizing over the last decade. And the results of that were very clear tonight. Does that mean I'm too provincial in my tastes? I don't know. But wins such as Emma Stone's, Anatomy of a Fall, The Boy and the Heron, and Godzilla are demonstrative of that.

I'm glad this season is over. I certainly hope that Killers of the Flower Moon will be looked upon more kindly by history and time, without the bells and whistles of awards campaigning and a fuller understanding of why it was made the way it was.

This month has been fun! But now it's time to see movies again without the lens of awards for a long, long while.

#Oscars #96th Academy Awards #Oppenheimer #Killers of the Flower Moon #Poor Things #The Holdovers #The Last Repair Shop #20 Days in Mariupol #Robot Dreams #The Boy and the Heron #War is Over! #Billie Eilish #Finneas #Godzilla Minus One #Christopher Nolan #Martin Scorsese #Yorgos Lanthimos #Emma Stone #Lily Gladstone #31 Days of Oscar

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

I think my personal view on Padme is that she was introduced as a really interesting character who then sort-of got swallowed by the romance and Anakin's story taking more and more precedence over her own development. Lucas said a few times that TPM is, in many ways, Padme's story more than anybody else's. Which is cool, but it means that when she sort-of disappears into being nothing more than a catalyst for Anakin's fall and Luke/Leia's incubator, it feels a little strange and jarring. The Padme of ROTS no longer feels like the interesting character we had in TPM. Even in AOTC, most of her interesting character development scenes (like meeting her family, her speech about the war, even just the extended arrival on Naboo where she talks about how she set aside her dreams of a family to continue a career of service) got cut in favor of (presumably) focusing more on the romance and how that affects Anakin.

Padme is someone who got introduced in TPM as a person who wanted to avoid violence as much as possible, she tends to play things safe because she believes it's the better political choice to make, but by the end of the movie she's learned that sometimes she just has to trust her instincts and do what she believes is right (this is the whole point of her being on Tatooine with Qui-Gon and seeing him insist on continuing with the podrace idea and the way this works out for him leading to Padme then choosing to approach the Gungans for aid in taking her planet back by force, a plan NOBODY ELSE believes in but her). So they take Padme on this journey where she becomes someone who trust herself and her instincts above anyone else, but who also deeply cares about doing the right thing to help the most people which is why she's in politics at all.

When we get to AOTC, she's continued that into her senator years and apparently only gotten even more reckless with age. But when her feelings for Anakin come into conflict with what she knows to be her duty, she has to make a choice. Does she "follow her instincts" and do what she wants, or does she continue to make that sacrifice because it's the right thing to do? And in the end, she makes the selfish choice.

My problem with what happens in AOTC is two fold. For one, I don't think it does NEARLY enough to convince me about why Padme likes Anakin enough to throw away her morals for him. The overall journey Padme is taking in this film I think is fine, but I don't think the chemistry between them works and I think the romance has aged like milk, which leaves me just kind-of wondering why Padme would risk SO MUCH for... a dude who can't even be considerate enough to respect her boundaries and who she believes makes jokes about fascism and dictatorships (or more accurately, who she has to CONVINCE HERSELF would make jokes about fascism and dictatorship so that she doesn't have to come up against the much more uncomfortable truth that it's not a joke to him at all). Anakin is creepy, insensitive, and sometimes almost unkind to Padme all throughout AOTC, when I THINK he's intended to come off as awkward but charming, enough to make Padme feel sort-of "young again" (I know she's only 24 in this movie, but she hasn't allowed herself to really ACT young for probably about 10 years) in a way that sweeps her off her feet a little. The romance doesn't work, it just doesn't, and I think a LOT of people would agree with me that it doesn't work even if we might not all agree on why that is. The editing isn't good, the dialogue is clunky, the chemistry is practically nonexistent. So when Padme makes her big declaration about how she loves him so much and then marries him, I find it hard to believe, and that is a problem for the rest of the narrative of the Prequel Trilogy.

The other problem I have with AOTC is that Padme is told to us to be a very MORAL person, someone who believes very deeply in doing the right thing and gets righteously upset at people being mistreated. She's someone who ends up seeing Jar Jar more kindly than almost anyone else and is capable of extending that experience with him to the rest of his people enough that she goes to make a deal with them that allows the Gungans better representation and treatment. She gets upset when she realizes slavery still exists on Tatooine and always treats Anakin and Shmi very kindly. She is incredibly upset by the possibility that her people on Naboo could be suffering and dying at the hands of the Trade Federation, enough that she ultimately decides to leave the Senate behind and find her own solution. She barely is willing to leave Coruscant in AOTC for her own protection because she doesn't want to leave before the big vote about whether they're going to go to war against the Separatists or not. And so I have a hard time reconciling that person with the person in AOTC who hears Anakin advocate for a dictatorship and chooses to laugh it off, or the person who hears Anakin say he murdered an entire village of Tuskens and not only chooses to COMFORT HIM about it, but basically CONDONES what he's done by saying it's only human, and then MARRIES HIM. The moral Padme who cares deeply about people seems incongruous with the one who falls in love with and marries Anakin. Fewer people might agree with me on this one since it requires being critical of Anakin, but I think there'd still be a solid group of people who'd agree that this just doesn't seem to match up.

So by the time those two things come together, that interesting journey of this person who wanted to avoid violence as much as possible but had to learn to follow her instincts if she wanted to get anything done starting to give in to selfish desires because she's sacrificed most of her life to serving her people kind-of... disappears. Because I don't understand why she even HAS desires for Anakin, selfish or otherwise, and loving Anakin by the end of AOTC requires her to be so immoral that it feels out of character for her. I don't think the romance INHERENTLY ruined Padme's character at all, but I do think it was mishandled and ended up causing some unfortunate implications about her with the contradictions that exist due to it being a badly written romance.

I like that Padme is, in some ways, almost equally as selfish as Anakin is. She's giving up her morals to marry him just like she is, her job makes this relationship just as forbidden as his does (more so almost, since the Jedi clearly KNOW about the relationship to some degree and don't do anything to actually break them up until Clovis happens and Obi-Wan feels the need to step in a little more and even with THAT they clearly are still aware of the relationship having continued and don't do anything about it, while Padme believes that if the Queen found out about her pregnancy in ROTS that she wouldn't be allowed to serve on the Senate). I like the idea of Padme paralleling Anakin in this, that she starts off such a moral person and that it isn't Anakin himself who causes her to start veering towards selfishness, but the invasion of Naboo and the corruption of the Senate leaving her feeling like she has no choice but to do what SHE believes to be right. And she IS right in that instance, but the implication we get in AOTC is that she's kind-of gotten... worse since then. She follows her instincts no matter what and it leads her to reckless places, up to and including a marriage to a Jedi that is forbidden to her. I even like that Padme is SO selfishly invested in this relationship that she's willing to lie to Obi-Wan to protect Anakin from committing a genocide and then begging him to run away with her so he can escape justice rather than facing the possibility that this is WHO HE IS and she's just been able to ignore it up until now.

I actually like that and think that that's interesting as a character, this... devolution that she has throughout the trilogy in parallel to Anakin and the Senate themselves. She's an immensely flawed person and her connections to the other narratives about how good things go bad can't be a coincidence.

But what sucks is that, over time, Padme has kind-of ended up getting interpreted as this person who was above those kinds of flaws, who wasn't selfish, who WOULD put her duty over her desires. People see Padme as this person who did everything RIGHT and just ended up an unfortunate tragic victim of it like the Jedi when that just... isn't true. And I think it's a reaction to how contradictory Padme's actions (especially in AOTC) seem to be to her character from TPM to just defend her as being RIGHT to be in a relationship with the person she loved despite the reasons for it being forbidden, as being RIGHT to defend Anakin against Obi-Wan's accusations in ROTS, as being RIGHT to prioritize Anakin's comfort instead of condemning what he did to the Tuskens in AOTC. But it misses that Padme isn't just the catalyst for Anakin's choices, she's not just this perfect thing he couldn't live without, she's someone who ENABLED those choices by being selfish herself. She's ALSO someone who started off with such good intentions, such lofty ideals, and was brought low by greed and selfishness and an unwillingness to be mindful about herself and her own desires. Padme might not have ultimately caused a genocide as a result of her selfishness, but it doesn't mean she WASN'T selfish in her choices and that her selfishness helped lead Anakin down a bad path just as much as Palpatine's machinations did. Anakin's choices are obviously still his own and not Padme's FAULT, but I find it frustrating when people try to exonerate Padme of all responsibility for what ultimately happened and pretend like she never did anything wrong in this story, that her love was pure and selfless and free of any attachment.

So on paper, I LIKE Padme's arc and I find it fascinating and the romance is necessary for that arc, but I do think the romance part of it was mishandled badly to the point that it makes Padme feel contradictory and incomplete and underdeveloped. Like if I'm supposed to believe Padme is willing to set aside jokes about dictatorship and the massacre of an entire village of Tuskens when I've been repeatedly told that she's a moral person who cares about humanitarian issues above anything else, I need more than just "this pretty boy is kinda dorky and sweet sometimes." I need know what would DRIVE her to pursue a relationship she knows is forbidden for a reason with a man who is pretty clearly unstable and almost dangerously obsessed with her. What insecurity is making a relationship with Anakin seem so immensely compelling to her, let alone a MARRIAGE.

So either I think the romance needed to be a little more... romantic and eliminate the things like the jokes about dictatorships and the Tusken massacre so Padme doesn't seem like a complete idiot who believes it's okay to murder people so long as those people are Tuskens, or Padme needed to be more explicitly someone who was a little corrupt herself so that Padme being okay with murdering Tuskens and jokes about dictatorship doesn't feel so out of character for her. Or both, maybe a little of both. She's corrupt enough to enter into a relationship with someone she knows she shouldn't without giving up her position as a senator because it's what gives her power, but she's not SO corrupt that murder of an entire village down to the last child is okay so perhaps leave that bit out.

Padme is a character I REALLY loved as a kid when I first watched the Prequels (which were the first Star Wars films I EVER saw) and so I still really like her generally due to pure nostalgia, but my feelings on her have gotten far more complex as I think about her and her narrative more critically.

Ahsoka I think works fine right up until you get to the Ahsoka show where she's just blatantly and wildly out of character and completely flat at the same time. There's things I wish were done a little differently in TCW for my own personal taste, but I think that generally the idea of Ahsoka as someone who only really knew Anakin through the context of war and as a child actually does work. Some of his more violent outbursts can be more easily explained away through the context of the situation as well as a child's sort-of more naive outlook on the adults around them. Ahsoka also never sees him do anything as heinous as the Tusken massacre or make jokes about dictatorships (at least none that I can remember), so unlike Padme, she's not ever blatantly ignoring anything that should be a massive fucking red flag. Well, there's the abusive training from TOTJ, if we choose to consider that canon, which I think Filoni was technically on the fence about. But even that is something that seems to not cause any long-term damage and that Anakin tells her is for her own protection, so it's easier to set aside perhaps than the massacre of an entire village down to the last child.

What makes the Ahsoka show frustrating is that it doesn't ALLOW HER to have an adult perspective on it where she looks back and sees all of the things her child self wouldn't have been able to notice. She never looks back and sees the outbursts of violence or some of his more unorthodox comments about the Jedi as the warning signals that they were. She elects instead to IGNORE everything that he's done in order to double down on the opinion she'd held as a child (and that she'd been able to KEEP up until Malachor) that Anakin was a genuinely good person overall rather than acknowledging that while Anakin had good MOMENTS, he was in fact a bad person and a bad teacher, and she can only move forward if she LETS HIM GO. Ahsoka deserved that and now she'll never get it and it sucks.

Obi-Wan I sort-of disagree with you on in that I don't think Obi-Wan's ever BLIND to his faults. I think this is part of a major misconception of his character that a lot of people seem to share. But Obi-Wan spends like all of AOTC being VERY aware of Anakin's faults and has to figure out how to let go of his worries in order to have faith that Anakin has learned enough to fix and learn from his own mistakes. So by ROTS, it's not that he's blind to Anakin's faults at all, he's just chosen to have faith that even when Anakin stumbles, he'll always pick himself back up again. We see this most evidently in his reaction to Anakin's temper tantrum in the Council chambers about not being made a master where he's clearly disappointed in Anakin's behavior, but he later tells Anakin that despite that, he's still ON HIS SIDE and tries to give Anakin guidance on the situation. He takes Anakin's apology later as a sign that Anakin is sort-of figuring things out a little more, but he is uh. Wrong. Anakin's apology is sort-of half-assed AT BEST, but I can see where Obi-Wan would at least see it as good first step in the right direction. But I don't see Obi-Wan's faith in this film (or in TCW) as a flaw or a blindness because he cares too much about Anakin. It's his STRENGTH. Much like the Jedi themselves, just because his faith was betrayed and misplaced doesn't mean that he was wrong to decide to have faith in the first place. It was STILL the right, healthy choice to make.

The guilt we see him have in the Kenobi show is more a product of the uncertainty surrounding why Anakin did what he did than it is about Obi-Wan caring too much about Anakin to handle what he did. I think if Obi-Wan had KNOWN about Palpatine, and Padme, and the visions, and how all of those things came together, he might've had an easier time of it. But he knows VERY VERY LITTLE about why Anakin is making the choices he's making, and in that uncertainty, the easiest thing to do is blame HIMSELF. Especially since, at the beginning of the show, he believes Anakin to be dead. In some ways, it might feel easier to blame himself than it is to blame Anakin or even Palpatine. And this ISN'T healthy, but I don't think it's necessarily a problem because he blinds himself to Anakin's faults. His journey at the end is about accepting that he may NEVER know why Anakin did what he did, that there might not have BEEN anything he could've done differently or better to cause a different outcome, and that there is likely nothing he CAN DO to keep Luke and Leia from going down the same path. All he can do is have faith again, faith that he did the right thing by giving Luke and Leia to the Larses and Organas, faith that the Larses and Organas will raise Luke and Leia well, faith that Luke and Leia will not be like Anakin and repeat his mistakes.

Rex is definitely just a product of not knowing the truth. I imagine he'd have a LOT less positive gushy things to say about Anakin if he knew Anakin was the one who betrayed them all and became Darth Vader. I'm STILL waiting for someone to show us Rex's reaction to that because I would maybe DIE to see Rex react to finally discovering that particular truth. With what we do have though, I think Rex is mostly come to peace with what's happened to him. I don't think it's that he's choosing to ignore the things that hurt so much as that he's gotten himself to a place where he CAN just... let himself remember good moments with people he'd cared about. The end of it sucked and there were moments in the middle that sucked, too, but there are still a lot of good memories acquired during the war, good people he'd met, good lessons learned. Rex seems like he's in a pretty healthy place by Rebels, having had to live with the truth about the chips for a while and do what he can to live his life as happily as possible with what's left of his family. He can't do anything to change what happened, so he's let it go. He obviously does still have some PTSD from the war, that's always going to be true, but he genuinely seems like one of the most healthy characters in Rebels despite how shit his life has been.

#star wars #padme amidala #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #anidala critical #padme critical #padme amidala critical #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #ahsoka critical #ahsoka tano critical #anti ahsoka show #ahsoka show critical #kenobi show #long post #this got VERY long since there were a lot of characters to discuss

[ebenelephant]

I feel like the movies had a lot to do with the whole "Snape is creepy" thing. Not just because they miss a lot of detail and add the bit about Snape cradling her body, but also because, in that scene which is so prevalent in people's minds, they look so much older? In the films, Lily appears to be in her thirties, and even aged down a bit Snape is still I would say thirties/forties. They're well into adulthood, creeping up on middle age – the age where highschool friendships should be well out of mind. To be still apparently hung up on adolescent relationships at that age is, to many, weird.

However, in the book timeline they are only 21. They were friends for longer than they were estranged – about ¼ of their lives. If people saw a smooth faced 21 year old, still barely able to drink in the US (where so many of the most influential voices of the HP fandom are situated) and obviously distraught, would they have the same reaction? I don't think so.

#guys im so sleepy #severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #pro severus snape #lily evans #lily evans potter #snily is my brotp #mine

[thethirdromana]

Dracula's roommates, in gifs

All gifs by talented tumblr gif-makers, commentary by me. I haven't seen most of the films so all commentary is on vibes alone.

Dracula (1931)

Full marks for spookiness, and here we have a book-accurate two brunettes and a blonde. I'm impressed by the amount of fabric that these ladies are collectively wearing, especially given that the front hem of their dresses is longer than floor-length. I wonder how many takes they had where they just tripped up and faceplanted the spooky stone floor?

Brides of Dracula (1960)

There are only two brides in this, as part of the plot is the acquisition of a third bride. The main vibe these two give me are of a sleepover just as the edibles are kicking in. They seem very friendly. Might get the munchies later though.

Dracula (1968)

It's hard to tell from the gif, but this is what Wikipedia claims to be the only version where one of the brides of Dracula is black (on the left, played by Nina Baden-Semper). I'm surprised more adaptations don't do this, given the physical description we get only requires that two are dark and one fair. Sadly they don't get any dialogue in this, just some expressive hand-movements.

Count Dracula (1977)

Dear lord, could this be more 70s?? The hair, the dresses, the makeup, even what I assume is a cod-medieval tapestry could only be from one decade. I don't much like the kind of brattish submissiveness happening in this gif (ymmv, of course). But apparently one of them is French, which is fun.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

Interesting how much more active the brides become as the years go on. I mean, the lip-licking is right there in the text, but this feels very full on compared with the coquettish earlier brides. They do look fabulous though - so fabulous that all other brides follow the same model from this point onwards.

Dracula 2000 (2000, unsurprisingly)

A modern-day Dracula provides us with some modern-day brides, though in essence they're much the same as the 1992 ones. I have never seen anyone on Tumblr ever mention this film, which makes me suspect that it's atrocious.

Van Helsing (2004)

Dracula starts off with three brides in Van Helsing but if I remember correctly, they don't appear on screen at the same time (if they do, I couldn't find a gif of it). I kind of wish they'd gone for the period-ish costumes of the ballroom scene for the brides, but instead we get 1992 again, in both costume and general red-lipped vampishness.

#dracula daily #may 16 #brides of dracula

[writersdare]

All Too Well | Calum Hood

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (she/her)

Summary: It's the first time ever when Calum and Y/N didn't need to be apart, as they were going on tour together. However, things could never just be perfect, could they?

Warning: angst, fluff, a bit of cursing

Word Count: 1 725

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: This was the one I worked really hard to make it softer than it initially was. It'd say it's more of an angst story still, however, not too heavy, and there are sweet moments, too ♡ Inspired by Taylor Swift's short film "All Too Well". I hope you'll like it!

It almost felt like Christmas, when Y/N and Calum took a seat next to each other in the plane. It was the first time when the girl was going on tour with him, and both were very excited.

Cal was really glad they finally managed to go together, they didn’t need to be separated for so long again. 

Y/N could compare it with a miracle, truly. The last month was very stressful, as she had to do a lot at work before getting a remote project. At some point Y/N even doubted she was going to finish everything in time. However, there she was, holding a hand in Calum’s, while he was quietly sleeping on her shoulder. There was no need to be homesick, because Cal’s home was right next to him. And Y/N didn’t need to learn how to live alone again, because she was in the company of a loved one.

Sometimes “too perfect” could bring unexpected problems. It couldn’t all go smoothly. The musician wasn’t exactly a pessimist, but he always agreed with that way of Y/N’s thinking. 

However, Calum didn’t exactly expect his girl to blow up easily only because he didn’t pay much of attention to her after a concert. For Cal it wasn’t a big deal. Once they finished the performance, everyone went to have dinner in their dressing room, not being able to wait for any longer and go to some restaurant nearby. It was a usual evening, chatting with the bandmates and discussing how good the concert was. Y/N was happy that fans were welcoming and active during the whole show, and of course, she could share the joy of her boyfriend, but it still felt slightly uncomfortable. Even though they started dating a while ago, Y/N didn’t know Calum’s friends well. She surely didn’t mind him spending time with them, but the girl hoped for some little reassurance here and there; after all, it was the first time, when she went on tour. Few attempts to join the conversation were interrupted by her own boyfriend, and Y/N’s mood went down completely. Yet, she stayed polite and kept smiling lightly, ignoring unpleasant feelings inside. The girl didn’t ask for much, she only hoped Cal would stop making her feel that dumb, would stop as if reminding her that she didn’t belong there. As if she wasn’t there at all, even when Y/N tried to touch Calum’s palm. She wasn’t begging for attention, the girl only thought that as she came with him, they’d spend more time together. Wasn’t it the point? All of sudden Y/N felt like a mannequin which Cal would look at only when he needed it. 

“You just walked in the room and behaved as if I wasn’t there!”

Y/N tried. She really tired. The girl promised herself she wouldn’t make a scene, she wouldn’t argue, because it was a very wrong place and time. However, Calum brought up the topic himself, saying she was “hell annoying” and looked “weirdly upset.”

“I was fucking tired! Exhausted, Y/N! I didn’t mean anything, I was just hanging out with my friends!” Cal blew up immediately, although by nature he was pretty calm. “I’d look at you if you’d jump around, sing for few hours, Y/N. Would you have powers for anything else after it?” the guy run a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, apparently analysing what he had just said.

Calum used to say he valued words a lot, the musician hated when people would tell things they didn’t actually mean. He never rushed up to answer on the interviews; Cal liked to think first, before saying anything, completely anything. Perhaps, that’s why sudden accusations shocked Y/N that much. If he said it, he probably really meant it, and that was quite upsetting. The girl never even dared to think that Calum wasn’t a hard worker or that his job wasn’t difficult. Of course, it was, and she knew it very well. That’s why Y/N was always there, supporting him no matter what. And yet, she couldn’t get the connection between him acting like a moron during the dinner and blaming her for saying he wasn’t tired. She never even said it.

“You know what? Back off," after a short pause Y/N realised that she was too overwhelmed to continue arguing. These past days were rather exhausting, the trip, so far, was very stressful as there were too many unknown faces, and Cal’s words didn’t exactly make the girl feel any better.

“Y/N…”

“No, Cal, you’re right," she nodded, being dangerously calm.

The girl grabbed a bag and threw a phone in there. Y/N wasn’t going to leave, it’d be too immature of her, but she desperately needed fresh air and time alone at that moment. Lately it was getting harder to breathe, and she finally admitted that she was simply choking. Being busy with tour and job issues the girl didn’t have time to check on herself. For some reason, Calum didn’t see it either, apparently, he was busy working, as well. She knew how it could be, so the girl wasn’t blaming him. At times Cal couldn’t take care even of himself. 

"How would I know? You’re the only one who works hard," Y/N snapped, regretting she took that hell of a project at first place just to be closer to Cal. What for? Surely, emotions were speaking at that moment, and sometimes it was very hard to gain control of them. Suddenly nothing was working anymore, their relationship included.

“I didn’t mean it this way," Calum’s voice became small, too. He gently touched the girl’s wrist with his fingers, and felt a little relief, as Y/N didn’t attempt to break the touch. However, her eyes didn’t give him any hope.

“No, you did.”

“No, I didn’t," he hurried up to deny. "Look, I’m just stressed, I swear I…" her hand slipped through his fingers, and Y/N headed to the exit of the dressing room. "I know you’re… Y/N, c’mon! Don’t do this right now!" Cal outraged. "We’re trying to talk, and you’re running away again!"

"It’s you, who is trying to talk, Calum!" the girl turned around quickly, hoping her body wouldn't betray, and salty tears wouldn’t flow down the cheeks. "You can’t even understand me! I worked as hard as you to get here at first place! I don’t mind you hang out with friends and have a rest after the concerts, but since the day one of the tour you’ve never asked how I was feeling! I don’t even know these people! They are total strangers to me," she finally broke in tears. Cal didn’t dare to touch her and only watched from the distance. "And this evening I only asked for a small reassurance, I wanted to feel that you’re here with me, because I don’t feel damn comfortable here, I need time! And now you make me feel like a total dickhead for asking that, because you are damn tired, because you had a show to perform! Maybe it was a bad idea to come with you at first place. It could have been totally different," she shook the head and looked down, wiping the tears with her fingers quickly.

A storm was attacking inside, Cal wanted to say a lot, but words got stuck in his throat.

"I had no idea," he finally mumbled, feeling rather ashamed. "This tour… is really important to me," the musician continued, even though everything didn’t seem to have any sense once he spoke it out loud. "I was too focused on work, but it doesn’t mean I forgot about you, Y/N," Cal made a step forward and reached out to her uncertainly. The fingertips didn’t touch hers, he was waiting for the girl to do it instead, if she wanted to. Or waiting to give him a sign that he was allowed to.

The girl closed the eyes for a moment and shook the head negatively. She touched a handle of the bag to avoid Calum’s sudden affection. 

"I know it’s hard for both of us," she spoke up quietly. "But we need to learn how to understand each other, and I’m tired of being the only one who is trying to do that. Relationships don’t work this way."

"I know. I fucking know," he lost it, made a step forward and squeezed Y/N in his arms, resting a head on her shoulder. For that Cal had to bend down a little, but it was worth it. "I’m sorry."

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s lips. She looked up on the ceiling, hoping to stop herself from crying again. Just some time ago Calum was behaving like a sick superstar, and now he was asking for forgiveness. Why was it always like a seesaw with him? And why did she still love him?

The girl closed the eyes and tilted her head to touch the top of his with a tip of a nose. Cal smelled with berries – a shampoo she bought him few days before the very first tour. Since that time she was always doing it, and Calum was always taking the black jar with blueberries on the cover with him. Funny, that smell reminded him of her. And to Y/N that smell reminded her of them. Them, being together, happy, in love.

"I love you," she whispered, feeling that sudden wave of affection after a long day and bitter argument that left a small but still a wound on the heart.

"I love you more," he whispered back and hid the face in a crotch of her neck, leaving then a short kiss on her skin. 

The touch was too familiar to give up on everything they went through. Calum knew he needed to keep in mind that the tour was going to be be different, as his girl was there. He needed to give Y/N time, as it wasn’t normal for her as for him, who has been performing since a young age.

"I know I didn’t give you the best tour experience so far," Cal whispered in her ear after a long silence. "But, please, let me try again."

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, found the 1st one here @uservalentine & the 2nd one here @carriedawayfromhome –

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

#calum hood #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos #5sos angst #calum hood imagine #5sos x reader #5sos fic #Calum Hood angst #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood x y/n #Calum 5 seconds of summer #Calum 5sos #Calum 5sauce #writersdare #writersdare Calum 5sos #calum hood fluff

[david-talks-sw]

Why do a lot of SW fans dislike the Prequel Jedi?

This was going to be the conclusion to this answer about "why a lot of people dislike Mace"... but it's just too long, so I decided to make it a post in its own right.

So why is Mace-- scratch that, why are the Prequel Jedi considered to be "unlikable" by a big chunk of the fandom? Especially when compared to Anakin "I killed a group of children twice" Skywalker.

Overall... I'd say it's three things.

1) Some fans had different expectations.

I touched on this in a recent post: older fans, who are now at least in their 40s, grew up seeing Luke as the ultimate Jedi.

He's Campbell's Hero With A Thousand Faces, up there with King Arthur and Superman. He's, for lack of a better term, the chosen one.

So when the Prequels were announced and they knew they'd get to see the Jedi Knights in their heyday, they expected to see something like the Knights of the Round Table.

A collective of errant warriors who go on exciting adventures, providing aid from place to place. Like Luke Skywalker.

Instead, they got this:

"A bunch of monk/diplomats who sit around talking about taxations and trading routes and measure the Force based on cell organisms."

"They're nothing like Luke Skywalker! What the hell?" (I address why this is inaccurate here)

Then the second film comes out:

"Wait, Jedi can't get married now? So were all those EU books about Luke and Mara Jade bullshit?" (also addressed in above link)

Then the third film comes out:

"Palpatine is right there, why can't they sense him or read his mind? They're Jedi!" (explanation why here)

Also Luke is no longer the Chosen One apparently? Anakin is? How does that work?

Plus, the way they speak, their jargon, is waaaaay too formal, gone are the OT characters talking informal English with American accents and quips. Even the way these new characters speak - and not just the Jedi, the Queen too - seems detached from reality and makes them harder to relate to. (but we're talking about diplomats and royalty, so how else would they be talking?)

2) How adult audiences perceive "morally pure" characters.

Even if one didn't have the pre-concieved notions about the Jedi... they don't seem to impact the adult viewers the right way.

Then again... neither does Barney the Dinosaur.

Many are the conspiracy theories and negative discourse surrounding him (there's even an upcoming documentary about it). You know why? Because he's not meant to be a character for adults, who have outgrown morally black or white characters and are unable to relate to them... his target demographic is children.

They see him and go "I love you, you love me". We see him and go "What the fuck is this guy hiding? What darkness lies beneath that mask of optimism and joy?"

Same goes for the Jedi.

So I'd say what we have, here, is a similar situation as the one in the recent Rick and Morty episode, "Juricksic Mort".

In the episode, a bunch of dinosaurs return to Earth and it turns out they're incredibly selfless, diplomatic, moral and spiritually advanced (kinda like the Jedi!)

Rick's reaction is - you guessed it - "what the fuck are they hiding?"

The dinosaurs turn Earth into a utopia, ending all wars, removing all conflict, bringing about world peace and giving everyone the chance to go on vacation... and everybody hates them for it and eventually wants to see them fail and step down from their pedestal.

The writing emphasizes their superior virtue so much that they actually come across as uptight and patronizing. This is done intentionally, so that it's difficult to find them likeable out-of-universe, and we relate to the earthlings in-universe who react the same way.

Why do the audience and the characters react this way to characters who - again - are good and moral?

Because as Moriarty says in Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows... hidden within the unconscious is an insatiable desire for conflict.

It's why the presence of conflict is so crucial in storytelling.

It's why every scene in good movies presents some form of internal, external or philosophical conflict.

It's why protagonists need flaws to be interesting and relatable. Because we're flawed as well.

Also, the protagonist will eventually have overcome their flaws through an arc.

More importantly, the basis of all conflict, in storytelling, comes from something being out of balance.

And the Jedi are trained to not be that :D !

So on the one hand we have Anakin, a flawed, conflicted character who struggles with his inner balance, and on the other we have the Jedi, who are essentially presented as flawless and balanced.

What will a chunk of the audience do? They:

Won't like the Jedi.

Will project a flaw onto them (more on that in the next section).

Side with Anakin, the one that's as imperfect as the audience is.

Sometimes all of the above.

But the thing is, though... the Jedi we see in the Prequels are not flawless or perfect.

They are, for the most part, characters who have already completed their character arcs, characters who have already confronted their own inner flaws and overcome them.

And whenever these flaws resurface? Well, they've conquered them once, and they have the training, so they do it again.

Example, here's Yoda confronting and overcoming his hubris and inner fears:

Has he done it before, in his almost 900 years? Probably, yeah. But it's not a one-and-done sort of thing.

But the Prequels are not their movies. They're about Anakin.

He's meant to be the more interesting character. And they're meant to be the ones with less flaws, because they're mentor archetypes and the Prequels show an interesting situation wherein the protagonist fails to listen to the mentors and fails to overcome his own flaws, which leads him to - instead - be doomed by them.

3) Issues with the writing.

So, for the people who didn't like the changes but want to like the Prequels, there's a headcanon that seemingly fixes everything:

"The Prequel Jedi... are intentionally written as arrogant, hypocritical moralists. They are meant to come across as dispassionate. I mean, isn’t that what being a Jedi is, apparently? You purge yourself of attachments aka emotions, and act only logically (which was typically-encouraged behavior for a long time, in the US). They've become too systemic and lost their way." And guess what? With this interpretation, "Luke is special again! He's like Qui-Gon in that he found a middle ground between the unfeeling Jedi and the Sith, who have become slaves to their emotions. Like, sure, Anakin can be THE Chosen One, whatever, but Luke? Luke has found the balance, he succeeded where Obi-Wan, Yoda (who wanted Vader dead instead of believing he could be redeemed) and the other Jedi failed. So that's what the Prequels are about: the Jedi's failure."

The issue is, though... it doesn't align with what George intended. (as explained here and here).

But it does use most of the ingredients the films give us. Which - short of unleashing a barrage of George Lucas quotes, interviews and videos - makes it hard to disprove.

Because - seeing as the films aren't about the Jedi, they're about Anakin and his own inner demons - we don't see enough of the Jedi's culture and lifestyle and day-to-day unless it directly relates to Anakin.

So George's very clear idea of how awesome the Jedi are is never truly conveyed or fleshed out and as a result they feel like a group of people who always say "no" to the protagonist. The flawed, passionate and more relatable (by contrast) protagonist.

We get glimpses of it in The Clone Wars, but then it's tarnished by the fact that the Jedi are at war.

Then there's the reads that could easily be disproved... had George been more explicit about what he was going for.

"The Jedi Council bully a 9-year-old." This read could've been avoided had the scene ended with the Jedi telling Anakin that being afraid is normal, but his fear must be conquered otherwise it'll lead to the Dark Side. Which, they do, but in a vague way rather one with a kind empathetic smile.

"Obi-Wan is always berating Anakin, their relationship is tense." The whole movie partially features an arc where their relationship is on the rocks, so removing the tension isn't an option. However, the interpretation that it's been like this for a decade (rather than recently because Anakin reunited with Padmé) could've been avoided if, instead of just a minute-long elevator scene, we maybe saw a set-piece of them on a mission, maybe showing them working in tandem and joking as they escape that nest of gundarks.

More could've been done to frame the Jedi in the positive light thy were meant to be seen under. But again: the movies aren't meant to be about the Jedi.

Though it seems that a lot of people wanted them to be. And maybe that explains the hate re: the Jedi.

Older audiences wanted to see Campbell's Hero they grew up with again, they had a preconceived notion that the Jedi would be wandering, exciting adventurers... instead they got a bunch of "stale" diplomats whose whole job is to avoid conflict and adventure.

So instead of taking the story for what it was - a movie for kids - they projected a "morally gray" narrative that said these characters were flawed and weren't how they were supposed to be in-universe, when the truth is they weren't happy with the characters they witnessed out-of-universe.

#long post #in defense of the jedi #jedi order #meta #star wars #sw meta #prequel trilogy #star wars analysis #also holy shit this is my 300th post apparently :D

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

There's been talk about another hostage deal. I don't refer to that much, because so much of it is happening behind the scenes, is not being reported on, or is deliberately lied about to put pressure on one of the factors in the equation, I don't see a point in talking about it unless there's confirmation that there is a deal. That's what I did before, that's what I'll continue to do.

There's more than enough proof that Hamas used the hospitals in Gaza as bases for their terrorist activity, I've written about it multiple times, and yet the lie that Hamas did no such thing is SO big, and SO many people and organizations, which are considered reputable, were complicit in covering for Hamas' crimes, that every additional piece of evidence matters. Now we have the confession of a Gaza hospital director, who admits that he not only collaborated with Hamas' terrorist usage of his hospital, he actually joined Hamas, and was a member of this terrorist organization himself. He also testifies that Hamas used hospitals, because it considered them safe places (meaning, they knew the IDF is NOT going to attack there).

I mentioned in my daily post yesterday, that the Houthis' attempt at blockading Israel has become a threat to global economy. Today, the US has accordingly announced an international coalition of 10 countries so far (officially, it's reported that some countries will participate anonymously) to combat this terrorist threat from Yemen, funded by Iran. There's at least one Arab country that officially joined this coalition, Bahrain (one of the Arab countries that Israel has peace with). This reminds me once again of the First Gulf War. World order in regards to Iran is taking shape in front of our eyes. This is important stuff, with consequences much bigger and longer lasting than the war in Gaza, though very much connected to it (even if we won't feel them immediately).

Another drone from Lebanon infiltrated Israel's north today, it was intercepted by the IDF. I'll also take this opportunity for a reminder that rocket fire into Israel continues, even if I don't mention it in every update post. In the last 24 hours, many rockets were fired into Tel Aviv and central Israel.

A Hamas money launderer, in charge of transferring money from Iran and other countries to Hamas, money which fuels the organization's terrorist activities and fighting, has been killed in Gaza.

Actor Alec Baldwin was stopped by anti-Israel protesters, when he happened to pass by them in NYC. They demanded he condemn Israel, because apparently if you're a celebrity, you HAVE to have an opinion about every political subject in the world, and it's okay to harass you about it in your private time. That's not bullying if you're famous. But what's even more infuriating, is that the protesters implied Baldwin wouldn't condemn the Jewish state, because he works in Hollywood, meaning they repeated the age old antisemitic trope that Jews control the American film industry. These are the same people who make it unsafe for Jews to leave council meetings that discuss the war, without police protection. At what point do we call out this violent, bullying behavior, harming regular people, as an illegitimate form of protesting?

These are Amiram Cooper, Yoram Metzger and Chaim Perry. All of them are in their 80's.

They've been kidnapped by Hamas, which released a vid of them in captivity. The vid has not been published in Israeli media, as seems to have been the general policy when it comes to this part of Hamas' psychological warfare. I heard the familiy members (who obviously were shown the vid) of two of these kidnapped men. Both relatives said that all three men (who are from the same community) don't look like themselves, that they lost a lot of weight and seem to be in a bad shape.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

[lotusparadisaea]

I keep thinking about how Only Friends would've benefited from a longer run-time and how some specific things of the show could've been handled a lot better if that were the case so I'm writing them down to have them all out there.

Giving Top a personality.

I think one of my many grievances with the show (despite the fact that I like it a lot) it’s the fact that unlike other characters, Top doesn’t seem to have much development outside of his relationship with Mew. We get to learn a little about all these characters episode from episode, yet all we know about Top are throwaway things that are almost never mentioned again or instantly resolved, or don’t carry throughout the show.

For example, his drug use. We learn about his drug use and apparently, it’s immediately resolved once Mew offers to sleep with him to make him stop. He can, it seems, stop cold turkey. Although he seems to be a very “sentimental” user (he talks about being high when he’s alone or to have fun). This is never brought up again, not even when Mew starts using. Which I found weird? I thought maybe he would get back to it after he ended his relationship with Mew, or at least have a harder time deciding not to take it, yet his drug use was mentioned once, resolved instantly, never brought up again.

Then, the sleeping pills and his trauma, we get to learn why he uses him, his trauma around sleeping alone, yet we never really see him struggling with that, in that same scene Mew agrees to sleep with him, and then we see him deciding not to take them, calling Boeing instead. Yet. We never really see him struggle with not being able to sleep otherwise. He has PTSD about a traumatic event on his childhood and I think he, as a character, would’ve benefited from a scene where, after breaking up with Mew, and before calling Boeing, he tries to sleep alone and isn’t able to, maybe showing his discomfort, an anxiety episode or something similar. The worst thing is this scene exists, where he decides to take someone else home after he sees Mew and Ray but fails, he can’t have sex with them, he CRIES and has to tell them to go away, and YET THE SCENE WAS DELETED.

Just learn more things about him in general. We know Nick’s dreams of animation and Boston’s photography, we know Sand wants to travel the world and go to music festivals, damn, we even know Cheum’s girlfriend, April, who only shows up for like three episodes is going to film school and makes confusing indie short films, yet we don’t seem to know much about Top’s aspirations, dreams, likes and dislikes, other than the fact that he used to sleep around and now he’s in love with Mew.

Boeing showing up sooner.

Had Only Friends been a longer show not being cut short by the typical run-time of your average GMMTV BL, and it had, let’s say, 18 episodes (like other gmmtv shows such as PSIHY), Boeing’s appearance in the last stretch of the show could’ve been less rushed. He could’ve showed around episode 12 and still make chaos and ruin relationships for six episodes, instead of three episodes where we barely get to learn anything about him other than he deeply dislikes Top for having dumped him. Like, why is he trying to get on with everybody? What are his motivations? Does he just like the drama? Does he have an actual plan? Like I could say: Boeing deeply regrets leaving Sand for Top, he realizes he made a mistake as soon as Top dumps him, and since then he plans to get Sand back and ruin Top’s life. That could be a motive. But we don’t know much about him, not really.

And also, sooner as in: we should’ve had flashbacks of his and Sand and Top’s relationships. I know that would’ve ruined the reveal of the actor, but I think there are clever ways to show flashbacks of a relationship without showing the actor’s face if the reveal was so important. Right now, we see Sand being awkward around Boeing but never straight up saying no, why is he so hesitant? The whole show we’ve seen him being in love with Ray, what was his relationship with Boeing like? Why did it make him hate Top so much to enact a revenge plan on him, even knowing he could hurt the person he currently likes? Were things really that insane? We know they had plans together but that’s because we were told this episode, it would’ve been so much better if the change we see Sand have in Boeing’s presence had much more context.

Exploring more the different relationship and dynamics

Okay, I think the show does a great job at this but there are things that seem so out there, that aren’t really developed or that could’ve use deeper approaches.

The group friend: why are they even friends? Did they met in university and found out they were all queer and banded together? Why, if both Cheum and Mew find Boston’s sexual life so awful they stick around him? Why did Cheum act like Ray was the only one at fault in the whole raymew debacle when they’ve always known he has substance abuse problems and he’s in love with Mew? Why does she says Ray never cares about them and yet the first scene of the show it’s them poking fun at Ray for always telling them he loves them while he’s drunk and he’s drunk all the time? The whole friend group should’ve had a deeper approach, imho.

Ray and Mew: okay, so Ray is in love with Mew. Mew knows this. We know Mew stopped Ray from committing suicide and that deepen their vow. We know Mew chose to be with Ray because he wanted to hurt Top. We know Ray couldn’t say no to Mew, even though by that point he already liked Sand. Yet we barely have any scenes of them together. We hear from their friends that their relationship was a mess, as short as it was, but we only really get one episode showing it. The next episode they broke up and are really mature about it, which? Okay, fair, but what was really their relationship like? We had glimpses of it.

Cheum and literally anyone else other than Mew: she’s Mew’s ride or die apparently, but she’s supposed to be friends with all of them. She even says if she weren’t a lesbian she would choose Ray, yet we never see her being a good friend to any of them. She’s literally a better friend to Top that she ever was to both Ray and Boston.

No half-assed plots

Sometimes it feels like the show is trying to do too much and it isn't able to. Specially these last episodes. The whole Atom/Boston debacle could've been better if it had taken more episodes to develop. We don't see his "friends" ostracizing him other than the first confrontation, but like, they literally threw him off their thesis project, even if Boston is leaving, i think he would've been at least a little worried about not being able to graduate. Atom hasn't gotten any consequences, Cheum and Mew have not apologized. I feel like this plot should've been better executed.

Same thing goes for Mew's little "Reputation" era.

And other plot points like, apparently Sand and Ray were sleeping together all the time when Ray and Mew were together? But this was never shown, in fact, it was implied Sand was keeping his distance, trying his shot with Freddie #2, telling Ray he wasn't his rebound or second option ALL THAT WHILE STILL SLEEPING REGULARLY WITH HIM?? There's a lot of "tell and don't show" in the series and it falls flat because of it.

The things they did show are good, for example, Ray's drinking problem. When we finally reach the rehab plot it doesn't feel rushed or out of nowhere because we've seen Ray drink all the show.

More development for the main couples.

This is self-explanatory, but like Jojo himself said they had to cut scenes for ALL of them because of the run time. I feel like for a relationship/character driven show, sometimes it really seems affected for the short run time. There are scenes we see in previews we don’t get, scenes that are released ON TWITTER because they didn’t make it to the show and a lot more of depth in the book that in the show and if that’s not a clear sign that the show should’ve been longer idk what it is.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #sandray #topmew #bostonnick #needed to get this out of my head to study so here goes nothing