#he hasn't been staged yet so if anyone could just. put some kind of good vibes into the universe for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashlie · 10 months

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You are SOOOO right about the unspoken feelings and yearning and the pining -- This is an essential stage, we cannot skip it!!!! Nol needs to marinate in his feelings and thoughts and wants and doubts and desires a little more. Sorry but it needs to happen, he hasn't been pathetic enough yet!! I guess people thought if Nol tells Shin-ae how she feels, it'll all click for her immediately, she'll reciprocate his feelings on the spot, and they'll live happily ever after. The end. But it's so much more complicated. She isn't ready. Nol is right. She needs to leave. She needs some rest and then time and space to calmly reflect on it all. Poisonheart said Shin-ae sometimes needs things spelled out for her, and maybe this applies here as well. But it's still not Nol's place to tell her. Perhaps she'll talk to Min-hyuk or Dieter, personally I'd love it if she spoke with a female character: Rika, Maya, or potentially Ms Park. It simply feels like a conversation that should happen with a woman (and I would love for her to bond with the female characters more). Maybe the "because you love him" will make a comeback and tie it all together, and the narrative will give her this neat little package labeled "WHY YOU CARE" that she gets to unpack. But either way I NEED Shin-ae to go through it all slowly, step by step. I need all those moments with Nol to haunt her, those feelings she tries to deny to not give her rest until she understands what it all really means. What she feels and why she feels it and oh no oh fuck this cannot be happening what am I gonna do now? Does he also like me like that? What if he doesn't? She is the MC this is important, give it to us we need it!!!!!

And RIGHT the realization IS scary and overwhelming! Especially when the stakes are so high! Dieter's confession is like a safety net for her. She knows that if she at some point falls for him and decides to date him, he will be there with open arms. No risks taken. It'd be so easy, so convenient, so safe. With Nol, however, she doesn't have that kind of safety. Even worse, he unintentionally sends her mixed signals, he keeps slipping through her fingers -- they have these intense moments, then he puts up his walls and pushes her away again, and she doesn't get why. He still calls her "Yoo" and won't even let her say his real name!! Is she ready for this? He will be gone in three days AND there is all the stuff with the Hiraharas and his past and so much more she doesn't know yet. It's a lot (and he knows this). Which means she can NOT be wishy-washy about it. In a way, she has already made up her mind when he decided to fight for their friendship. But this is different, this is new territory -- She needs to choose him again, consciously, fully aware of what it means! And THEN she can face him again, with an answer. It's just SCREECHES we're in for such a ride why would anyone want to skip this????

By the way you describing Dieter's POV really got to me. "because he sees the things Shinae doesn't know how to identify" THIS THOUGH. Listen. Shin-ae is so stuck in her own POV -- but if she could switch her perspective from actor to observer, she would see it for what it is and immediately get why this is not "friends". Now I also have this one fear that Shin-ae will chase after Dieter to "fix" this, and, still in her denial, blurt out something like "what makes you even think there's something between me and Yeong-gi" and hoo boy ouch yikes where would he even start.....

We are gathered here together, unified by our common need to watch a man be TOTALLY PATHETIC about the girl he has feelings for, unified by our most ardent desires to watch him bask and wallow in a bath of regret and want and desire, united in our need to watch Shinae go through the 5 stages of realizing you're in love with one of your most important friends lfkjakjfakfjaflkjafkafjaf But YEAH YEAH that's it!!!! THIS is the stuff that makes romance plots so good and worthy. Like, you ship because you want to see them together, want to shove them in each others' spaces yeah but like the most crucial part to me is watching them BE A MESS about each other. Nol in agony - because Shinae can't see it because he LITERALLY PUT THE MOVES ON HER and she's just like :)? because she denies there being anything and what if he's wrong what if she DOESN'T feel the way he thinks she does what if it's him all alone out on this limb agony because he keeps pushing her away and he doesn't know when and how to stop fighting and she's fighting for him to show himself and he can't bare himself but he's also fighting for her to understand why he matters so much to her and to use the words anD AKLFAFKAFJKAFJKJAFJKAFKJAFJA ROARS

But YES YES YES I would LOVE to see her go to Rika and Maya about it. I don't know if she would, just because I don't know if she'd feel like it's something she needs to (or should) talk out BUT. I still want it! I want her to bond with them and open up to them! There's that whole thing about how she didn't want to be a burden and it upset Maya that she never reached out or asked for help and instead relied on strangers so it would be SO satisfying for Shinae to, embarrassed shy flustered go to them. Actually, no, now that I'm thinking about it, I think it could be a by product? Like she'd go to them talking about Dieter because maybe an outsider view will give her the perspective will convince her what she's telling herself (lying about) that yeah it sounds like Dieter just needs sleep. But to talk about Dieter she has to address what he oversaw and imagining her just.... venting at them about how she doesn't get it, what does Yeonggi/Nol even MEAN? It's not like they did anything weird or secret! And in that way she tends to, just go off on the tangent, the snowball is rolling down the hill and it can't be stopped. She's talking about how it was just a dance that doesn't mean anything it's not weird to goof around finger dancing is totally normal and Rika and Maya are just.... looking at each other. ALSO IT WOULD BE SO GOOD because Maya was always trying to set Shinae up with people and saddle her with someone else lmao but for her to be showing actual concern about a boy, actual FEELINGS, for her to start off talking about Dieter but end up venting about Nol and so consumed with how annoyed she is with him and how much she cares about him and what does he mean convince me? how is friendship not enough to care about him what does he even WANT FROM ME? and the thought of Maya telling her "you LIKE this guy!" and Shinae recoiling because NO! YOU ALWAYS WANT TO SHOVE ME OFF ON PEOPLE but Rika isn't denying it either, Rika who always calls Maya off when she's being too pushy, Rika who is more level headed

GOD.

I want Shinae to figure it out on her own but if it does have to be spelled out for her, that would be SUCH a fun way for it to play out lmao just like.... Maya shocked that Shinae ACTUALLY likes someone, Shinae unable to even take her seriously because she's Always Doing This, but Rika averting her gaze and chewing her lip thoughtfully aljafkafkjafj AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Shinae just like no, no way you don't understand of course i don't of course i can't why would i? But THE FLUSTERS THE INTENSITY OF HIS GAZE THE THINGS HE MAKES HER FEEL THE WAY HER HEART RACED IN THE DARK WHEN HE GOT SO CLOSE TO HER SHE CAN'T HOLD HIS GAZE THAT SMILE /THAT SMILE/ WHEN HE WAS HUGGING THE BOYS AND HE SMILED OVER AT HER

scuttling up the walls yodeling ALFJAKFJAFKJAFKAJFLAFKAFJAF

We've been so pointedly kept outside of Shinae's mind all this time - which is so clever to deny us the gears turning in her head because the gears are NOT turning. She's exhausted, she's tired, she's been through hell, the sheer tensions of the night have drained her. I'm right there with @poisonheart too on Shinae needing to step away, eat some food, get some sleep - we keep talking about Shinae having the kind of dream that would make her face her feelings lmao something more direct than her own thoughts can be (the unhinged stalkyoo fans can has a dream kiss as a treat?) that makes her wake up and go "fuck what was that?!" but I am SO looking forward to when we DO get to see her thoughts, when we get to watch her work through it, agonize and fight through it. Frustrated because she doesn't get it, what does he mean how is "because we're friends" not good enough?! In fact, poison reblogged one of the other asks and her response is just SO good about how Shinae keeps trying to fit Nol into a Minhyuk-sized box that Nol just does NOT fit. And that's where Shinae keeps going in circles - unable to get to the real reason unable to see what Dieter saw. If I were better with words or more eloquent I'd say that there's something so fantastically similar about how Nol wore that blindfold deliberately and here is Shinae, unable to see Nol for what he is and instead try to see him through a best friend lens. She's so blind to it!

Also YES I love the dilemma of "what does this MEAN?" and the "DOES HE FEEL THE SAME WAY?" and remembering the way he looks at her and the way they interacted when they thought everyone was asleep, the way he's insistent that Dieter saw something that hurt him and how indirectly it's his way of saying it meant something to him AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH the shyness because how do you go see him after that?! how do you look at him talk to him when you now have this extra awareness when you realize it wasn't all the ramen you eat that's just your heart getting giddy about him aaaAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

pls I need to watch her unpack it and then throw it all around and then try to pack it all again and realize that it's all out of the bag it's never going back in!!!!!

I also kind of have that fear/expectation about Shinae and Dieter - it just.... feels like her, right? To be so bull-headed that she ignores Nol because he doesn't know what he's talking about why is he making such a big deal just so determined to fix t even though as readers we know it will absolutely!!!! make it worse! Especially because HE KNOWS WHAT HE SAW!!!!! She can blurt that out all she wants but he can call her out on her bluff, tell her that's not what he saw. Ngl a part of me WANTS it to happen because the narrative impact would be so delicious! Dieter, the character who always keeps it together who always comforts people who sees things but holds his tongue breaking and snapping and his hurt seeping out a little because what does Shinae take him for? For her to tell him it means nothing would hurt even more because he knows better. Even if she can't see it in that moment even if she hasn't grasped it in that moment he knows and for her to pretend otherwise hurts AND is insulting.

Also in that vein, for Dieter, it's not even that he oversaw that tender intimacy, the way they laughed together, the way Nol's gazes would fluster her. The dance? The dance with all her bright radiant joy having so much fun, laughing after such a harrowing night but the HURT that followed! That whole painful conversation of Nol pushing her away and how much it hurts her and how much she wants to see him for him to open up and he can't and why that hurts her so much that she left and Nol, standing there all alone taking off the headband admitting he doesn't want her to see him like this. It's not just the tenderness he saw - it's how strong those feelings are, the extent to which it affects both of them. It's not that Nol pushed her away for fun - Dieter could see that Nol was disappointed he actually drove her away, hurt that he managed to make himself hurt her again OH THE AGONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

For Shinae to try to insist that she doesn't like Yeonggi like that when Dieter already knows. When he can see what Shina means to Nol - and what he means to her. Why it hurts her so much. The day he and Soushi found her crying in the rain, why she was so torn up. The "Because you love him" just hanging like a banner between them, still flapping in the wind. He has seen how much she's been torn up over him this whole time.

This?

This is just overkill.

But yeah I have this fear/worry/expectation that she may try to chase after Dieter - because in her head that's the easy fix that one is much better to deal with. Nol being hot and cold? That's typical. Fix this first and then she can focus on the bigger issue but yes only making it a more painful mess ;____________;

In a way, she has already made up her mind when he decided to fight for their friendship. But this is different, this is new territory -- She needs to choose him again, consciously, fully aware of what it means! And THEN she can face him again, with an answer.

GOD I AM HOWLING I AM BARKING UP A TREE I'M CLIMBING THE WALLS AND SWINGING FROM THE RAFTERS YES YES YES /YESSSSSS/

Shinae deciding that no matter what, she'll be persistent like him, she'll find a new way to reach him, she won't give up and she'll keep fighting for him because that's how important he is was such a resolute choice grounded in her feelings and her wants. Wanting him to show himself!!! Wanting to see what he hides from everyone. Wanting him to be true with her, to be honest and real. What Shinae wants is so much deeper than merely friendship, so much deeper than just caring about a person. She wants all of him, every ugly part of him every vulnerable part of him everything that makes him who he is. She wants to be privy to all of it, and she doesn't see it!!!!! That she is acting on that love on those feelings on that need for ALL of him. GOD. But also yes, how he's so hot and cold and slips through her fingers and it confuses her!!!! He's so volatile, the stakes ARE so high! It's not just the danger by association, it's the way he hurts her when he doesn't want to/like it. It's the way he can't be as open and real and honest as she wants. But you are right, she has to choose him again, CONSCIOUSLY, knowing what it entails. GOD THAT WILL BE SO GOOD SOOOOO SATISFYING ;_____; AAAAAAHHHHHHH to make that choice knowing the stakes, knowing the feelings. To choose him.

Anon I am going to perish

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY FP #ILY Spoilers #Stalkyoo #Shinae Yoo #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #I AM HOWLING I AM SCREAMING INTO ALL OF TIME AND SPACE I AM SO UNDONE #i cannot think about these two and this arc without going feral #i tell myself i'm gonna be normal about this and then i just become SO UNHINGED

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askshivanulegacy · 1 year

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For BEST WORST HAWKBAT: 3, 4, 9, 10, 12, 20, 27, 35, 41, 46, 47, 58, 63, 71, 81, 88, 89, 109, 119, 140, 151, 179, 173

3. Does your character prefer to work in silence or with noise and of what kind?

Thirteen likes to work with some level of mundane background noise, which is good because it's very difficult for him to escape all noise in his hawkbat forms. Soft electronics or machinery is nice, but so are nature sounds like birds, wind, or rain.

He sometimes plays random background noise just to annoy Five, and then intentionally falls asleep about it.

4. Has your character ever been handcuffed or tied up?

Oh yes, hehehe. 😏

9. Could your character win an arm wrestling competition? How well would they do?

Probably, unless the competitor is some inhumanly strong alien. Thirteen is tall and slightly lanky, but he has muscles like steel cords.

10. Would your character give up the chance to come back to life as a god so that someone else could be saved?

If Thirteen could come back to life as a god, his natural assumption is that he could simply bring the other person back. But really, he has no interest in being a god, just being powerful enough to do what he wants when he wants. So, if the other person is someone he cared about, he would be satisfied letting them come back instead. Of course, this doesn't apply to just any random person.

12. Would your character marry someone their family didn’t approve of?

Oh yes. There are only a few people whose opinions Thirteen cares about, and when it comes to marrying someone, he certainly isn't going to let anyone but himself decide. He hasn't consulted with his parents/family for anything in a long time, and they've learned to let him do what he wants.

20. How self-confident is your characters?

100/10. 8)

27. Does your character know how to tie different kinds of knots?

Thirteen knows how to tie ALL the knots. Cipher training is about useful life skills after all. 8)

35. Naptime, yes or no?

ALL the naps. Thirteen likes fun as much as the next person, but also delicious, cozy sleep exists. Being a hawkbat consumes a lot of energy AND has lovely, lazy, animal naptimes built in.

41. Do other people around your character dictate their life or do they get to choose for themselves?

It's true that Five is both Thirteen's boss and Watcher, and he THINKS he dictates much of Thirteen's life while also giving him quite a bit of latitude. In reality, Thirteen is like a cat. He has ALL the latitude, because Five still has all the guilt from the flagpole incident, and also Thirteen has ten doctorates in Five Management and can maneuver his way to whatever outcome he wants.

Except, possibly and more recently, for the Enter Stage Right of his new Sith patron, which he doesn't quite know what to do with yet. But he's trying really hard. 8)

46. Does your character prefer to lead or follow?

Neither of the sort. Thirteen knows when he's the expert in something, and is quite content to take the lead at those times. However, he'd much rather act totally independently or in partnership. He does his own thing.

There are exactly TWO people he would follow, however, and one of them is his boss.

47. Has your character ever stolen anything?

Yes. Thirteen casually shoplifts the most obnoxious items for fun, but also voluntarily pays the most obnoxious prices for the most obnoxious items, for an equal amount of fun.

58. Does your character prefer the ocean or the mountains?

The OCEAN. It may be inconsistent with his hawkbat nature, but he finds it calming and beautiful and unpredictable.

63. How far would your character go to help those in need?

Not far. If it's SUPER convenient and he can spend a boatload of Five's money on it, he might do it for fun. If he feels obligated or responsible in some way, he might orchestrate a path forward for whoever needs help, and he expects them to put in their own work. But just generic charity is not something he does or cares about. Part of this might be his Imperial upbringing, but part is definitely himself. He has other things to do.

71. How good is your character at reading people and navigating social situations?

EXTREMELY. This is literally what Thirteen does. Every day. In his personal life. For his job. This is Thirteen boiled down to the basics except maybe when it comes to love. 8)

81. Does your character look like what others think they should from their reputation?

The pale, platinum hair, green eyes, and rather tall and lanky build is probably not what people expect when they hear about Five's best Cipher, or the "lead" of Five's Avengers. They probably also have zero concept of the supreme monster a were-hawkbat actually is.

That's the way Thirteen likes it, positive surprises all around, for everybody!

88. Are any of your characters part of a spy network?

I mean yes ofc. 8)

89. Would your character throw themselves in harms way to protect a loved one?

Yes. With a very real expectation of negating the harm, but yes.

109. Would your character blackmail a god?

Sounds like fun. Thirteen has probably enacted Five's blackmailing. 8)

119. If someone made a statue of your character, what would it look like?

There is already definitely at least one (1) very naked statue of Thirteen in all his glory, like a Greek god of passion, in Five's estate, and the person who had it made is Thirteen. 8)

There is also definitely a monster hawkbat statue, and Five had that one made. 8)

140. Can your character play an instruments?

If there was ever a band AU, or if Thirteen started a band, he would be the lead singer. But I can see him being reasonably proficient in a number of instruments, like piano, violin, and something like a flute or panpipes. He probably had training along those lines, primarily dictated by his family, before joining Intel.

151. Would your character ever go cliff diving?

If you count diving off the Kaas City skyscrapers, he's already been. XD Also, as a hawkbat, it's literally what he's made to do.

THERE IS NO 179 D:

173: How loyal is your character?

Very. Thirteen can't conceive of ever betraying the few people in his life he cares about.

They take priority over the Empire, though at this point, Thirteen can't conceive of actually defecting from the Empire.

#swtor #swtor ocs #imperial agent #cipher Thirteen #asks #answers #ty for the ask!#I'm sure there's nothing too groundbreaking in here #🤔#no readmore on mobile we die like men

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wham-bam-thank-you-jam-wrestling · 2 years

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WWE Love (Smackdown Edition)

I'm watching the June 18th episode of WWE, the one that opens with "No Chance in Hell" blasting from the arena PA system and Vince McMahon himself walking to the ring with that still all-too-familiar strut that just screams "I'm a scared little boy who has spent the past 70 odd years trying to convince myself I'm a man".

In case you've missed it, there has been a lot of drama happening in the WWE of late. I'm not going to get into any of that now, suffice to say that none of it is good.

What I am going to do right now, is zag when the rest of the world is zigging and list a bunch of aspects of the WWE product that I am really enjoying right now.

More of this sort of thing, please.

Montez Ford - Not only is he a bonafide main-eventer in waiting, but he is also going to bring something brand new to the main event scene with his combination of charisma and athleticism. The wholesale theft of The Rock's catchphrase a few months back, as well as the weak, pious-man Twitter game aside, the dude is a STAR.

Pat McAfee - this man is a pure delight. His energy, his idiosyncratic delivery, his one-liners and references. Not everything he contributes is a home run (wrong sport, I know), but he adds so much to the presentation of WWE Smackdown that I don't think I could get through the 2 hours (including commercials) without him.

Xavier Woods - I'd like to believe that this man is also on his way to the very tip-top of the card and the WWE universe. Alas, that appears extremely unlikely. If we could give him a sustained push at some point, that would be great. The New Day have remained crazy over for a long, long time despite the, at best, inconsistent booking, yet Xavier Woods is the only one of the three who still hasn't sniffed a solid singles run. And he is the best promo guy in the group! Give a him a chance WWE, just do it confidently, unlike how you treated Kofi and Big E.

Butch - the Brawling Brutes trio, as it is currently presented, is a bad idea that is going nowhere. Sheamus, despite being a big lad who can still go when given the right opponent and enough time to work, is apparently not someone WWE is going to get behind again. Ridge Holland is green, in and out of the ring, and just doesn't inspire any kind of reaction. The former Pete Dunne, however, is playing his part as well as he possibly can, given the material, and is someone I would love to see given a solid 15 minutes with a quality opponent on a premium live event

Also, a quick shout-out to Sheamus's music and entrance. I think it's great.

Sami Zayn - I'm not gonna lie, I started writing this one before he even appeared on screen. There is a guy on the other WWE show for whom you can pretty much copy and paste the next few sentences, but we'll get to him another day. In the meantime, it's been said by pretty much anyone and everyone, Sami gets it. He understands his character better than anyone, he elevates bad material, and he can tell you the story that needs telling without leaning too heavily on cliche and the standard pro-wrestling tropes. Plus, maybe not to the same level as 10 years ago, but he can still put on a banger between the ropes.

Gunther - Just don't screw it up, WWE. Keep the title on him until Wrestlemania at the very least and give him some class competition.

Brock Lesnar - Just to be clear, I am not referring to the booking on Brock Lesnar, of which I am not a fan. I get that he is a monster and needs to be booked as such, but there is a way you can accomplish this without making every other wrestler on your roster not named Roman Reigns look like a complete and utter piece of trash. But Brock has a physical charisma that is undeniable and is still, 20+ years removed from his debut, a talent you can build a company around.

That's all I've got at this stage. Let me know if you agree or disagree with any of these. Let me know if you think I've missed something. And let me know if you'd like to see more of this or if you'd like to see a little bit of WWE Hate instead.

Cheers

#wwe #wwe smackdown #brock lesnar #sami zayn #the new day #xavier woods #kofi kingston #big e #wrestling #professional wrestling #montez ford #pat mcafee #vince mcmahon

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hwrryscherry · 3 years

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The one where model Y/N is attacked in Paris.

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N are in Paris for Fashion Week 2020 earlier this year. To celebrate her first time walking for Gucci, Harry decides to take her out for a dinner date when a crazy youtube prankster attacks her while leaving the restaurant and Harry get furious as standing up to defend his girl.

word count: 3.5K

warning: rude and disrespectful attitude, invasion of personal space, violence, anxiety attack quote. DON’T read it if you feel uncomfortable.

author’s note: HIII, I know this took me a while. I was working on it when I got a cold and just couldn’t think of anything to finish writing this, but I’m much better now for god’s sake. I’d like to apologize with whoever requested this for taking such a long time to post it and say a huge thank you or requesting this too! This is completely inspired by what happened to Gigi Hadid in 2016(I guess) and I remember seeing this video and thinking why someone would do that, also, Gigi said once that the guy was lucky Zayn wasn’t with her sooooo I guess I just think Harry would be so furious because even though he’s a very chill guy, his girl safety and well being is the one thing that matters the most to him.

gigi’s video for the ones who didn’t see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjsPmjqmcvs

February 27th, 2020

Today was the first time that you ever walked for Gucci, and it was amazing, you were beyond happy because getting where you are today being a short model and only being 22 years old it's something to be proud of. It hasn't been easy all the time but you were slowly making your way to the top and that's more than enough. And you were highly grateful for Harry either, of course you walked Gucci's show because of your talent and hard working and no one doubted that, but Harry did a important role in your newest contract with Gucci because you met the team because of him and his Gucci obsession. But anyway, the fashion show was amazing, and you had Harry on the crowd cheering for you all the time and God, he was so proud! He couldn’t even handle himself. He was recording everything and even got up when you did the catwalk next to him as he kept taking multiple pictures. If you have to be real, almost 90% of those pictures looked really bad because he wasn't focusing on the phone but he also wanted to register this moment and when you'd look through them later you'd actually laugh because most of them had a very blur image.

When the fashion show ended, he had to congratulate you backstage. As you were starting to take off your outfit, you listened to your boyfriend's rough voice making you turn around to face him and see the biggest smile on his face, you could clearly see his dimples on the side of his cheek. He walked over to you instantly wrapping his strong arms around your figure hugging you so tight that you were even afraid that he would get the feat of ruining the rest of clothes you still had on.

— You were so great, I'm so pround of you! — Harry said on a low tone next to your ear before breaking the hug and looking carefully to your face. You had this crazy green eyeshadow that were halfway gone by now which caused him to chuckle — I love your eye look, it looks fabulous! — Harry said making you bend over to stare at the mirror behind you only realizing now you haven't finished taking off your makeup yet. You stand straight again giving him a mocking expression as you grabbed the makeup wipe you were using from the makeup table behind both of you.

— I know, I'm thinking about wearing this everywhere because it's just really fashion! — you ironically said taking a smirk out of him as you turned around sitting on the chair in front of the mirror so you could have a sight of how you're makeup were doing — But thank you, you know I appreciate it!

— I do! And that's why I'll congratulate you by taking you out for dinner tonight! — Harry said walking towards you resting his hands on both of your shoulders squeezing them gently as he bends over giving you a small kiss on your neck.

— Oh, like a dinner date? — You'd ask with a smirk on as you felt goosebumps on your kiss with his little kiss.

— Exactly like a dinner date! And later, we can have our own private celebration! — He'd say with a smirk on his lips as you finished taking your makeup off — What d' you think? Sounds good? — He asked you and you nodded at him and just some minutes later you both were out stage going back to your hotel in Paris. Harry called Jeff and asked him if he could make a reservation for both of you for tonight around 8 pm and he glady did, so as it was already 6 pm and as you both were probably the one couple in the world who takes the longest to get ready, you'd come back to the hotel and started getting ready already.

Jeff made an appointment for both of you to go to Le Cinq restaurant which is located near the Eiffel Tower and Arc of Triumph. You absolutely loved Paris at night, for some reason it seemed more magical and interesting to you. The weather, the lights, the fashion and the language that you learned to master well through the years warmed your heart whenever you’d go there. When you were a child, you got used to always hearing your mom tells you:’’whenever you’re in love, go to Paris’’, and for this reason Paris was one of the first places where you and Harry traveled together as couple. Harry didn’t use to travel a lot for by the way. MOst of the time, he used to travel for work, so this changed a lot since you started dating because you love to travel. You’ve always been a free spirit person, the kind of person that goes wherever the winds takes you so with the time Harry became like this too as you started taking him to do the craziest things on the craziest places around the world.

You felt the car slower it’s velocity as it got closer to the front of the restaurant, and you both could see by the window that the front was packed. As it was Paris Fashion Week, there were a lot of celebrities in the city and usually, fans settled in front of popular places around the city hoping they’d have a chance to meet their favorite celebs and even though you were already used to crowds at this point of your life, they’d still make you a little nervous, especially when it was in places not well known to you like a city you don’t live on.

— You’ll have to guide me because these shoes are really high and I don't want to step on anyone's feet — You said to Harry while putting your phone in the small black Prada bag you carried with you with your head down looking carefully to it because you’ve lost the count of how many times you thought you had put the phone inside your bag and you didn’t.

— It's alright! Hold my hand because there are a lot of people here! — Said Harry bringing his left hand up to your face to put a lock of hair of yours that fell in your face behind your ear and you nodded to him. Harry was really protective over you, and he has been that way since the beginning of your relationship. He’d always put your safety first anytime you’d go out together. When it was his about his concerts, you’d usually discuss about the fact that you want to be in the audience and he wants you to be backstage. It’d taken you a few minutes to convince him that everything was going to be fine, but it would also have days that it didn’t matter how much time you try to convince him he’d beg you to stay backstage so he could be relaxed during the performance. But you were grateful for him being that way, you were grateful that he cared so much about your well being because you know exactly how much some relationships can be destructive and you felt lucky to have someone this good in your life. Of course he wasn’t perfect, neither of you were but who is? He tried his best and that’s what matters the most.

But anyway, Harry held your hand tightly and opened the car door, immediately feeling the camera’s flashes burning your faces and listening to some fans starting to shout. Harry’s bodyguards got between both of you and the crowd guiding your way to the entrance of the restaurant and you felt the heat from the crowd instantly even though the weather in Paris was only 59°F, it’d feel lot warmer until you entered the place. And that is one special kind of a place, The decoration was perfectly splendid, gorgeous and marvelous if you must say. The touches of gold and light blue mixed with the yellow coloration of lights and the spectacular french food scent brought a cozy and elegant vibe.The restaurant was a little full, nothing out of the common and you observed the many different sizes of tables and the groups of people in it.

You both were taken to your table that was located next to the windows but wasn’t actually on the windows at it still had people outside and it feels weird to eat with people watching you. Anyway, Harry as the gentleman he is pulled the chair for you as he always did even though you had told him there’s no need for that. You both ordered glasses of your favorite white wine, neither of you were heavy drinkers but as it was a celebration it was much needed. The date happened naturally, just as all the laughing, talking and even gossips. This the casual couple gossip that you two would have, but it happened naturally. None of you ever felt like you had to pretend to be anybody else except yourself around each other.

During the night, Harry would get lost in your face admiring your features while you’re talking. He would admire the way your eyebrows move when you’d change expressions, the way your eyes would form a very tiny line when you tried to see something that was away from you, he’d admire your smile and the sound of your laugh anytime you’d remember of something funny or he’d tell you something funny and he’d think of how lucky he is to have you, because even though he knows that sometimes he can be a pain in the ass(just as you can too) , you’re very lucky to have one another and to have someone who would make you feel this great and free about who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you need to be. Of course both of you believes that changing and envolving it’s the most important thing to do and sometimes you’d be surprised to see how much you both grew from the beginning of your relationship until today and that would bring smile to your faces. He feels lucky to be able to call you his girl, and god you loved when he’d do it. You loved when he was about to present you to someone and say ‘’This is my girl Y/N’’, it’d cause you to open a big smile because it felt natural. You’re his and he’s yours, period.

When you both decided it was time to call it a night Harry paid the check against what you wanted because you wanted to pay this time. You’d honestly hate to have people paying for you, and this would usually be a point of discussion between you and Harry. You don't know why but you hate it, and it's just the gentleman in Harry wanting to spoil his girl again and again until he get tired of doing it, but he never does.

You were about to leave the restaurant when Harry slid his right hand around your waist bringing you closer to him very calmly to kiss your cheek.

— I know you want to say hi to everyone but just walk to the car, alright? — He'd lowly talk next to your ear making you look at him with a serious expression — It's for your safety, love! It's late now, and we don't know who's there. — And he was right, it was past midnight now and there were still some people out there. How can they stand there in this cold weather? But anyway, you agreed with him as you both walked your way to outside. You felt flashes again, blinding flashing lights making you look to the ground as Harry held his hand on the back of your back guiding you to the car.

As you walked towards the car, you felt a small hand touch your arm and you looked over to see a little girl with probably 12 or 13 years. She pursued tired eyes, and your heart ached with just the thought of keeping walking back to the car because you had no idea of how much time she’s been outside waiting for you so you stopped walking and bend down a little to get close to her height which made Harry stops walking immediately looking a little surprised but he understood when he saw you taking a picture with the little girl and how your face lightens up after it. You asked her what was her name and her age and she answered that her name was Lily and she was 13 she told you that she wants to be a model just like you when she grows older and that melted your heart. You smiled at her and told her that she could do whatever she wanted to and told her that when she grows up and becomes a model, you’d love to walk a show with her. When you’d stand up again you saw Harry looking at you with a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t deny he loves your kindness to every person in the world. It made his heart happy to know that he’s with someone with the same life philosophy than him. So he turned around to open the car door for you when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist lifting you up and you froze.

— What the fu... — You'd shout before starting to hit him on his arms with your elbows as you'd move your legs trying to kick him with your heels. You'd feel flashes on your face and heat on your body increasing. It was the adrenaline and you were furious at this point. — Get...Off...Me — You'd shout as you'd hit his face with your elbows as well, Harry looked over to you and stormed out. He'd swear he'd never been like this in his life, he'd basically run to behind the guy's back and put his arm around his neck, Harry'd give him a punch right in the middle of his back and a slightly kick on the back of his knee to destabilise the guy which put you free by the moment he started to fall. Harry's bodyguard would hold you immediately trying to push you away from the crowd as you looked at Harry pushing the guy away from you.

— What the fuck were you doing? — Harry'd shout right into the man's face and watch as the man started to walk away from the crowd but Harry would go after him. Harry swears to god he couldn't even feel his body at the time. He was completely numb, moved by adrenaline and all he wanted to do was to beat the shit out of that man. — WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? — Harry'd shout walking after him getting no response which just made him angrier. At that time he didn't care about the cameras or whoever was watching him, he couldn't calm down when someone threated his girl safety and personal space. It didn't even need to be you. If he saw anyone threatening a woman's safety, he'd freak out in anger.

You felt the bodyguards strong hands trying to push you away from the situation because that's what Harry would want him to do. He tried walking you towards the car, but you were reluctantly screaming for Harry because he could get himself hurt if he didn't come back to the car now. The other bodyguard walked after Harry grabbing him by the arm and Harry turned over to look at him with so much anger on his look and you'd swear you never saw him like this but then he did started walking over to you again.

You finally entered the car and closed the door. You felt in panic. Basically paralyzed, you felt your anxiety attacking and your hands shaking. You could literally hear your heart beating so fast and loud that it scares you.

— Go get him! Follow him to hell. I don't care! Take him to the police office! — You'd listen to Harry talks firmly to his bodyguards as he opened the car's door and entered in it. He took a deep breath and turned his face to look at you. His heart broke at that moment. You were a mess. You couldn't even feel the tears leaving your eyes, but he did see them. He saw your hands shaking and how scared your eyes looked and at that moment all of his anger left his body — Love... — He'd sigh getting closer to you while wrapping his arms around your now-fragile figure. He could feel your entire body shaking on his arms. He caressed your hair with one of his hands as he hugged you tight to calm you down. He'd look to the driver and make a sign for him to start driving back to your hotel — Are ya okay? You're hurt? Did he hurt you? — He'd talk on a calm tone squeezing you a little on his arms. You'd lift your head up to look at him with red wet eyes shaking your head to him.

— I'm sorry! — You'd say lowly. He did tell you to walk straight to the car, and you didn't listen to him.

— It's not your fault, love! — He'd say wiping some of your tears and then carefully kissing both of cheeks — Don't worry about it, everything's gonna be fine, alright? It's okay!

You'd spent the rest of the ride in silence. A comfortable silence. You'd be laying your head on his shoulder while holding his head getting your breathing and heart back to normal and your phones would start buzzing with notifications of what happened but none of you would see it, not now.

When you got to your hotel, you'd get out of the car in the garage. You'd both walk slowly to the elevator and slowing to your room. You entered the room going directly to the king sized bed and throwing yourself in it because you felt like getting in a coma and just waking up to a time where all this drama would go away. Harry'd walk towards you and sit in bed beside you. He'd put both of his hands on your shoulders massaging them slowly.

— I'll prepare you a bath, so you can relax a little before sleeping, how's that sound? — He'd say trying to cheer you up a little bit.

— Sounds great, thank you love! — You'd turn your head to look at him with a forced smile on your lips. Harry'd bend down to kiss your hair line before leaving to the bathroom.

He'd try his best to make you feel the most comfortable to sleep tonight. He'd prepare you a bath. He'd give you a message, he'd brush your hair for you but actually, he loves to do that. He loves to brush your hair before you go to bed, it was more like a routine for you both. He loves to feel your long locks on his fingers and to feel the sweet scent of it. He'd cuddle you until you fall asleep too, he'd even be the big spoon tonight so you could sleep on his chest breathing his perfume because he hoped that'd make you have a good night of sleep.

And after you did, he'd look on the things on his phone. All the posts about you being attacked in Paris and him beating the guy who did it were just too much and he felt sorry that you'd have to see and read all of those stuff as soon as you unblock your phone. A lot of your friends texted him asking what happened and if you were ok. He'd answer the closest ones only, like his mom and Gemma, your mom, Bella and Jeff. He didn't know what you'll decide about the next fashion shows you had to walk, but he also knows that no one would blame you if you just chose to come back home in NYC.

Harry didn't sleep at that night at all, he couldn't stop looking for what happened and why it happened. The next day, it was everywhere in the media and later you'd found out that the guy was a youtuber and he was making a prank when he posted his stupid youtube vlog with "I pranked Harry Styles's girlfriend and he punched me" as a title. You'd sue him for sure. You don't like taking those kind of actions, but it was necessary, he had to understand that you cannot disrespect people like this, specially people you don't know.

After that you'd probably understand why Harry is so protective over you and Harry would actually get ten times more protective, if I had to be honest. But as the time passed by and quarantine came you both would leave it behind and move on with your life because in the end of the day you both will still have one another.

#harry styles and y/n #harry and y/n #hwrryscherry #HARRYxMODELY/N #harry x reader #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

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Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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1dfangirls35 · 3 years

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The Language of Your Soul

An enemies to lovers Ballet AU in 5 Acts

Masterlist

Act I

A/N:

First of all, thank you so much to @booksncoffee for the absolutely gorgeous banner!

I am so excited to share this story with you all! Inspired in part by a night rewatching Center Stage on Netflix and from years of ballet classes, I hope this AU brings a new twist on Harry fics (and maybe even helps you gain a new appreciation for the world of ballet). Please note, while I have used my own 10+ years of classical ballet training in addition to research on this topic to hopefully make this as realistic as possible, this is still a work of fiction- and some details may have been changed to better fit the constraints of the story. The companies mentioned in this fic are real, however this story and its characters are entirely works of fiction. On a more personal note, while I have chosen to publish this story now and believe I will be able to maintain weekly updates to its entirety, I am preparing to take my boards in less than four weeks. Should I not update as scheduled- please be patient and know that an update is only a few weeks away! :) Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: This story will contain language, mentions of emotional abuse from a parent and eating disorders. Please read at your own discretion.

Ten Weeks to Opening Night

Albert Einstein once said, "dancers are the athletes of God." Giselle Mason certainly doesn't feel like pne of God's athletes at the moment. Not with the way her muscles are screaming with every movement that she makes as she stretches before class, not with the way her right hip cracks as she lifts her leg onto the bar, and certainly not with the way her feet sting as she tapes up yet another blister on her toe before shoving her foot into her pointe shoes for another day full of torture.

Giselle stands, sticking one last bobby pin into the bun of her nearly ebony hair and finding her spot at the front of the barre in the center of the studio. She grasps the wooden cylinder with her left hand before releasing her body in a forward bend, taking a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. There is a familiar ache in her hamstrings as she begins to stretch, which loosens ever so slightly with every breath.

And so begins her daily morning routine in the studio. Fifteen minutes of stretching before company class begins. Relaxing each hamstring, hip flexor and spinal muscle until a sense of calm washes over her body. Letting her mind drift into a thoughtless focus, preparing itself for the waves of choreography that would be coming in minutes. Typically, this time is quiet; the only melody present the rhythmic breathing of company members preparing for class. But today, the studio seems to be filled with an underlying buzz. And Giselle doesn't have the slightest idea why.

"I heard he slept with the artistic director's wife, so they kicked him out of the Royal," she hears one of the new corps de ballet members murmur.

"I mean have you seen him, I don't blame her for getting her hands on a piece of him," another girl giggles.

"Did you hear, G?" Caleb, Giselle's friend, whispers as he slides into a spot on the barre behind her, adjusting the black bandana keeping his signature black curls in place across his forehead.

"Hear what?" Giselle asks, removing her leg from the bar before reaching down to adjust the black leg warmer that had fallen down her calf.

"They've hired Harry Styles- you know from the Royal," Caleb adds as if Giselle hasn't heard of Harry Styles. Everyone who was anyone in the ballet world had heard of Harry Styles. A good chunk of the non-ballet world might even be able to point him out as that 'sexy male ballet dancer' from the Sports Illustrated nude edition.

Harry Styles was a rare kind of natural talent. The type of person that was put on this earth to dance ballet. His talent had landed him the honor of being the youngest person to be named a principal in the history of the Royal Ballet. And if the rumors were true, that talent had also landed him the reputation of one of the ballet world's most arrogant. Giselle had heard several stories about how the male dancer had been a terror to work with- demanding, rude, uncooperative. Giselle didn't doubt it- people of that skill and fame rarely developed without some sense of entitlement.

"Why would we hire Harry Styles, we've already got Viktor?" Giselle questions. This isn't the first time a rumor has circulated through the American Ballet Theatre company, and it certainly won't be the last time.

"Rumor is they want Viktor to retire," Caleb shrugged before stepping back to his place behind Giselle as Mistress Ivanova claps to gain the class's attention.

Giselle couldn't believe the rumors. Viktor Dmitri retiring from ABT? He was practically the face of the company. The man had been dancing for the American Ballet Theatre for over a decade. He'd been the principal ever since Giselle had joined the company as a corps de ballet member five years ago.

Giselle knew that retirement came early for a ballet dancer. Her own mother, the famous Natalia Korsakova, had retired at the age of 33 after a knee injury. Viktor had just turned 35, but he'd shown no signs of slowing down. She refused to believe that he was calling it quits. Or to believe that the board would be stupid enough to bring in someone with Harry Styles's toxic reputation into the company.

She shoves the thought aside. Viktor is in his usual place at the back of the studio and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen. This was simply another piece of gossip threatening to distract everyone from the Swan Lake auditions tomorrow afternoon, and Giselle won't lose her focus. The auditions are too important.

Giselle Mason has dreamed of playing the role of Odette/Odile ever since she first watched her mother on stage at the age of four. It was one of her earliest memories of the theater- her mother twirling about in a bright white tutu that at that time Giselle could only dream of wearing. In fact, Giselle wasn't sure there had ever been a moment where her dream hadn't been to be a principal dancer at ABT, like her mother. She'd been in ballet shoes from the second she could walk, wore a leotard and tights more often than she'd worn pajamas, and didn't recognize herself in the mirror if her hair wasn't pulled back into a bun. She'd ate, slept and breathed the art form. But she supposed that all came with having a prima ballerina as a mother.

Natalia Korsakova was a ballet sensation. "One of the greatest to have ever danced," according to the New York Times at the time of her retirement. The world had come to watch her dance and she'd traveled it performing: Russia, Australia, London, Paris. You name the location and Natalia Korsakova had danced there.

When Giselle was growing up, she was constantly told how lucky she was to have Natalia as a mother. To have seen the shows she's seen, to have met ballet royalty, to have traveled the world. But Giselle never felt lucky. Not when she was the accident that put her mother's career on hold for almost a year. Not when her mother was gone for months at a time performing, missing recitals, parent days and school concerts. And certainly not when an injury forced her mother into retirement, shifting her focus from her own artistic talents to turning her daughter into her next protegee.

Much to her mother's dismay, Giselle was not the younger version of her mother. She was good, great even, but she was no sensation. Giselle made soloist in her fourth year at ABT, which was a feat all on its own, unless you compared it to her mother's two. Giselle lacked the raw, natural talent that her mother possessed. Instead of her mother's high arches, she had her father's averagely flat feet. Instead of her mother's uncanny ability to match the music, Giselle had spent hours counting eights in her head to get down a rhythm. Instead of looking effortless the first time she ran through a routine, Giselle spent hours in the studio after rehearsal, running through the choreography until it wasn't possible for her to get it wrong. Giselle had gotten to where she was because of her hard work, not her natural talent- something her mother would never let her forget. To Natalia Korsakova, Giselle would never measure up.

The Swan Lake auditions are Giselle's first real shot at landing a lead, especially with principal dancer Anna Elliot out with a back injury for the foreseeable future. Giselle wants this role more than anything. To prove to herself that she is capable of following in her mother's footsteps. And to prove to her mother that she is just as capable a dancer as she. For once in her life, she wants to hear her mother say not that she'd lost her spot or forgot to point her toes, but that she was proud of Giselle. Four words- that's all Giselle really wants.

"And will start first position, demi, demi, grand, demi and port de bra. Repeat in 2nd, 4th and 5th and then balance in fifth position arms in fifth," Mistress Ivanova barks, before gesturing to the pianist to begin.

Giselle focuses on her movements as the music begins. She tightens her core, elongates her neck and reaches her fingertips to the edges of her silhouette. Her legs quiver slightly as she bends her knees into the first grand plié, her mind focusing on maintaining her turnout.

"Relax that face Giselle," Mistress Ivanova corrects, as she makes her way around the room. "I don't want to see that this is work."

Giselle takes another deep breath, this time releasing her lips from their concentrated place and focusing on her breath. She lets the downtown Manhattan studio disappear from the background. Gone is the distant honking of impatient taxi drivers maneuvering their way through the New York City traffic. Gone is the light shining in from the full-length windows looking out at the city skyline- well what you could see of the skyline behind the crumbly brick building neighboring the school. There was nothing but the dancer, the barre and the music flowing gently through her veins.

"Beautiful lines Teagan, thank you," Giselle hears Mistress Ivanova say from across the room and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. Giselle has known Teagan Davidson since she was fourteen years old, when Teagan had moved from California to New York to join the ABT school. Over the course of a decade of competing for roles, partners and teacher's praises, the two had developed quite a rivalry. To Giselle, there was almost no better feeling than snagging a role that she knew Teagan also had her eyes on.

Giselle uses Teagan's praise as motivation to work harder, feeling the burn in her inner thighs as she pushes further into her grand plié in second. The role of Odette/Odile was hers, Teagan would have to settle for understudy.

The class is in the middle of their balance, Giselle's focus locked in on a spot just at the edge of the window at the rear of the studio when a loud bang reverberates through the room. Dancers drop their balance and turn their heads, looking to see who has caused such a commotion with their entrance.

"Mr. Styles, you're late," Mistress Ivanova snaps.

He is taller than Giselle imagined, and even from this distance she can see the definition in his arms through the black tank top that clings to his body. His hair is slightly disheveled, curling at the top. His face plastered into some cheeky grin, dimples present on both cheeks, like he knows exactly what he's doing, interrupting class like this. Almost like he's enjoying the attention. He throws his black messenger bag to the side before grabbing his ballet shoes and scurrying over to an open spot at the barre near the front of the studio.

"My apologies," he replies in a thick British accent. His tone sounds anything but apologetic.

"Damn, he's even better-looking in person than he is in magazines," Caleb mutters under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from Giselle.

"Well, I suppose after that entrance," Mistress Ivanova sighs, stepping to the front of the class. "Now is as good of time as any to announce that Mr. Styles will be joining our company as a principal dancer."

Gasps fill the room, and Giselle turns her head to look at Viktor, whose face is stoic after Harry's entrance. A low chatter fills the studio, everyone trying to figure out exactly what is going on. Would he get the lead in Swan Lake? Would he be understudying Viktor?

"Silence!" Mistress Ivanova shouts. "This chatter can wait until after class is over!" She turns to face Harry, her lips turned into a stern frown. "If you'll find a place at the barre Mr. Styles, we will continue our class."

Giselle watches as he slides into a spot at the front of the room, shooting a grin at the young company member behind him. Giselle rolls her eyes, returning her focus to the mirror in front of her. Two minutes with the company and she was sure Harry Styles was exactly who she thought he would be.

Giselle tries to forget Harry Styles is in class with them. Instead she focuses on her breathing, her turnout, the rhythm that comes from the pianist in the corner of the room. She watches the early morning New York City sunrise reflect off of the mirrors, leaving little spots of sunlight over the gray Marley floor. Everyone else in the company could focus on Harry Styles all they want, but she is only focusing on one thing- and that is landing the role of her dreams tomorrow.

But Harry Styles wasn't the type of person whose presence could be forgotten so easily.

********

Harry Styles isn't scared of a little attention. In fact, he typically thrives on it. That's why he is a performer after all. To Harry, there is no better feeling than knowing all eyes are upon you, that you are the center of attention, the focus of the room. Maybe that is a prideful and egotistical thing to say, but it is true. Everyone wants to feel important, valued, admired- and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

But the attention Harry has been getting since he walked into the American Ballet Theatre studio a little over twelve hours ago has not been the type of attention he necessarily sought out. He knew there would be rumors, leaving the only company he had ever been a part of during his dance career was sure to draw up the best of them, but something about this felt different. It was the whispers. The stares. The way some members of the room were staring at Harry as if he was a god and a few wouldn't dare look in his direction.

Harry doesn't know what's come over him- this wavering self-confidence. Maybe it's this new place. This new country. Or maybe it's the fact that in the words of his agent, if he "doesn't get his act together" he will never dance at this level again. And if he's not dancing on the world's biggest stages, well, Harry might as well not be dancing at all.

Harry grabs his phone from the side pocket of his black messenger bag, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker he found in the corner of the studio and presses play on his hip hop playlist. He needs something to drown out his thoughts, and classical music just doesn't cut it. As the beat begins to fill the studio, Harry lets the music take over his body and begins to dance.

Giselle tries to focus on her music, but there's the noise of a pounding bass in the background interfering with concentration. She's always the only one at the studio this late at night- that's why she comes- to be alone and without distractions.

She tries to ignore it, focusing on the one and two of the music as she fouettés. One and two, three and four, five and... a boom from somewhere in the building breaks her concentration and she falls out of her turn, letting out a groan. This could not be happening to her the night before auditions, and if she found out that Teagan was here trying to interfere with her practice...

Giselle makes her way down the hall, guided by the incessant bass that sounds like it belongs in the backseat of a teenager's car and not one of the most prestigious ballet studios in the world. When she turns the corner to enter the studio, it's not Teagan she sees but Harry Styles.

But he's not dancing. He's laying on the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts that show off the god-like definition of his thighs. His signature butterfly tattoo stands out on the middle of his chest, beads of sweat dripping towards the center of his stomach, the bass vibrating the mirrors around him. He doesn't notice her at first. How could he with the music so loud?

"Excuse me," Giselle says loudly in an effort to get his attention. His body doesn't even flinch.

"Excuse me!" she yells this time.

Harry looks up. In the corner of the studio, towards the door stands a girl. Her almost black hair is pulled tightly back into a bun. Her thin arms are crossed like she's about to lecture him, and her lips are held in a tight line that looks anything but happy. The corners of Harry's mouth curve upwards in a grin, entertained by the fury that was seeming to come from her tiny body.

She taps her foot impatiently, like she's waiting for something. Harry realizes that she is- she's waiting for him to turn off his music.

He sighs, reaching over to his phone beside him and sliding one sweaty finger across the screen to bring the rhythm to a halt.

"Yes?" he asks expectantly, not bothering to move his body from his reclining position.

"Other people in this studio are trying to practice, you know. It's kinda hard to do that with this," she gestures into the air, as if trying to find an appropriate adjective to describe the torture that had been gracing her ears over the past half hour.

"Not a fan of my music?" Harry smirked.

"I'm not a fan of someone disrupting my rehearsal." Giselle spit back.

"Rehearsal? It's bloody 11pm."

"I know what time it is, and like I said, your music is interfering with my ability to practice." Giselle stares Harry right in the eyes. He doesn't intimidate her, and she's not going to back down until he agrees to turn down his music.

"Wasn't aware you were the owner of this studio," Harry taunts.

"I could say the same about you." Giselle moves her hands to her hips. Just agree to turn off the damn music, she thinks to herself, even though she knows at this point, it's not worth the time it will take to warm back up to continue practicing.

Harry sits up, grabbing a blue towel from inside his bag and wiping the sweat that remains off his forehead. "Fine, music's off. Continue your rehearsal. I'm too jet lagged for this shit," he stands, wrapping the towel around his neck.

"Thanks," Giselle says under her breath, before making her way back to her studio, where she knew she would be gathering her own belongings.

Harry groans, grabbing his bag from the floor and sliding it over his shoulder. You could travel halfway across the world and still run into the same entitled ballet brats who thought they ran the place. It's those type of people, company members and otherwise, that were precisely the reason he had left the Royal. Well, not that he had necessarily had a say in that scenario, but they had been the cause of all of his problems.

You just have to dance, Harry, he tries to tell himself. But Harry knows that as much as he tries, there's a lot more too it than that.

**********

“Gi!" Caleb exclaims, bounding down the hallway towards her without concern for anyone in his way. "Cast list is up."

Giselle gulps. She isn't sure that she is ready for this. The look of disappointment on her mother's face if she doesn't land the part. The list of corrections that her mother has come up with from watching Giselle's audition. "Now you see there, you've lost your center. You're never going to make that triple if you don't hold your center Giselle." The reminder that "you only have so many opportunities to prove your worth, before they move onto the younger, better version of you." It didn't matter to her mother if Giselle was the youngest soloist at ABT by five years. It didn't matter if nearly every other soloist had previously understudied for the role. Everything but a lead was a disappointment to Natalia Korsakova.

"C'mon," Caleb exclaims, and before Giselle has a moment to collect herself she's being pulled down the hallway by her arm.

And there it is. The thin, white piece of paper that holds the fate of her next ten weeks in its hands. When she looks at it at first, she thinks she must be dreaming. Because her name has never been on that spot on the list before. Not since she officially joined the company five years ago.

Odette/Odile- Giselle Mason

Sigfried - Harry Styles

She feels frozen. Like she's in a dream and she's paralyzed. It's what she's always wanted-this role and yet, suddenly it feels like a whole lot of pressure.

"You did it Gi," Caleb exclaims, lifting her up and spinning her around before Giselle even has a moment to look any further down the list. Giselle laughs, giddy with excitement. "New York will have never seen a more beautiful Odette."

Giselle rolls her eyes at his comment. Caleb, her friend since joining the American Ballet School at the age of six and partner for many years had always been her biggest cheerleader. In a way, he made up for what she didn't have in her mother.

"And you Caleb?" Giselle asks, realizing in her excitement that she had forgotten that her best friend also had a role in the this ballet.

"You're looking at the newest Benno," Caleb says with a grin. Giselle often wondered what it would be like to be like Caleb. To be happy with any role. To not care about his place in the company. To simply want to dance. Caleb had always been like that- relaxed, calm- the antithesis to Giselle who was always high strung and anxious. Perhaps that's why they'd always been such good friends, because they balanced each other perfectly. Giselle pushed Caleb when he needed some extra motivation and Caleb- albeit not always successful- tried his best to keep Giselle out of her own head.

Giselle watches as Teagan makes her way over to the board, her long black hair swinging from the ponytail at the crown of her head. She grins in slight satisfaction as she sees Teagan's face turn into a frown. Giselle turns and gives Caleb her best, "what did she get?" eyes. He exaggeratedly mouths, "UNDERSTUDY".

As if sensing that she is the topic of conversation, Teagan looks over at the two. "Congrats Giselle," she says, her face moving in a way that makes it seem like the words taste disgusting leaving her mouth.

"You as well," Giselle responds, to which Teagan only scoffs and storms off.

"You know she's going to make your life living hell as your understudy don't you?" Caleb said with a laugh.

"Ugh, I know," Giselle groaned.

"It will be worth it though. You are going to be dancing the role you've always dreamed of." Giselle smiled. "Plus," Caleb begins, leaning down so his mouth is next to Giselle's ear. "You get to dance with the greatest male dancer of our generation. Think of all the hours you're gonna get to spend looking at that GORGEOUS body."

Giselle groans. Her perfect moment temporarily ruined by the realization that she would have to dance with Harry Styles. Sure, he may be talented, a great dancer, and likely a great partner. But his entrance yesterday and their encounter last night told her everything she needed to know about Harry Styles. And she was sure that working with him would be anything but easy.

"That GORGEOUS body," Giselle imitates Caleb with an exaggeration of the word, "Doesn't make up for the fact that the guy's an asshole."

"Okay, okay, point taken. Now can we go get some lunch?"

Giselle nods, but she already knows she's not hungry. Instead, all she can think about is how she's going to get through the next ten weeks of rehearsals with a man she already loathes.

**********

Giselle slides into the rehearsal studio with extra joy in her step later that afternoon. She's so on Cloud 9 that she doesn't even realize Harry standing at the barre doing pliés as she hums the opening notes of Swan Lake aloud.

"Sorry didn't know anyone else was in here already," she apologizes quickly, standing and stretching out her feet.

Harry looks at her, his face hard and eyes sharp. If he recognized her as the girl who interrupted his jam session last night his face didn't show it. "And who are you?" Harry asks, his voice laced with condescendence.

"Odette," Giselle smiles, the words feeling foreign leaving her mouth.

"Obviously," Harry scoffs, and Giselle feels her confidence waver. "Who are you?"

"Giselle Mason, soloist."

"Doesn't ring a bell," the corners of Harry's mouth turn up at his comment, like he gets satisfaction out of reminding others that they aren't the household name that he is.

Giselle wants to say something back. Something sharp and witty to show him that just because he was one of the greatest dancers in the world and she was still trying to make her way into the spotlight didn't mean that he could treat her like a nobody. She was going to be his partner after all- whether he liked it or not. But then Gregory Alexander, ABT's Artistic Director, enters the room, clapping his hands and tells them they are about to begin on the Act II Pas de Deux and Giselle doesn't have a chance to say otherwise.

"As new partners you will need to put in the time to understand each other. Build trust. Anticipate the other's movement. Portray to the audience that you are a swan and a prince in love." Gregory moves his arms in the air theatrically, as if he isn't wearing a designer suit.

"Now I understand that the ten weeks we have to prepare before our season debut isn't an ideal amount of time to form a relationship with a new partner. But in this case, it simply must do." Gregory's face turned serious, the wrinkles on his forehead more defined as he furrows his eyebrows. "I expect that the two of you will put in the time outside of your scheduled rehearsals to work on this chemistry. Anna and Viktor will also be assisting with rehearsals and my hope is that they will also be able to assist the two of you with this transition."

"Gregory," Harry interrupts, then as if realizing he'd made a mistake, he corrects himself. "Sir."

Gregory nods.

"I'm not sure what the concern is. I've danced with hundreds of partners in my career, I'm not sure how the other principal's would have much more experience than me?" Giselle thinks Harry is meaning this as a question but it comes out more like a statement.

Giselle watches as Gregory's eyes narrow again. He looked irritated, and why wouldn't he be? Harry had been here all but forty-eight hours and was already questioning the artistic director's decisions.

"That may be the case, Mr. Styles," Gregory paused. "But when the two of you step onto Metropolitan Opera House stage in ten weeks, I expect the audience to believe that you two have been dancing together for years. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry nods, this time remaining quiet.

"Now then, I'd like us to start with the Act II Pas de Deux. The very beginning- with your entrance Harry."

It's an hour into rehearsals when Giselle hears the echo of heels clicking down the wooden hallways. She doesn't even have to look up when the steps stop as they reach the studio floor. She could recognize that walk anywhere.

"Aahh, Natalia!" Gregory exclaims. "So glad you could stop by," Gregory reaches over to embrace Giselle's mother, his grey hair brushing the sides of her face as he kisses each cheek.

"Mr. Styles, I'd like to introduce you to Natalia Korsakova, former ABT principal and member of our board."

Natalia Korsakova looks as put together as always. Her dark brown hair pulled tightly into a neat French twist. Her tight black dress and coordinating pumps show off every bit of the dancer's body that she still maintained. Giselle watches as her mother's mouth curves to form a polite smile.

"A ballet legend. It's an honor to meet you Madame," Harry says offering his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm so glad you are joining us here at ABT. And what a joy it will be to watch you next to my daughter," Natalia gestures towards Giselle, with a polite smile plastered on her face that was generally reserved for generous donors and patrons of the ballet. It is all a show. That's all Giselle's mother ever did was put on a production. She was a performer after all, how could anyone expect her life to be anything but a crowd-pleasing performance?

"Your daughter?" Harry turns to look at Giselle, raising an eyebrow. His eyes narrow, as if he's caught Giselle in a lie. As if she'd snuck her way into this position and was just hoping that someone wouldn't notice she wasn't the real deal. "Why that makes this even more special."

Giselle fights every urge to roll her eyes from across the room. It is clear that Harry Styles is every bit as much of a performer as her mother. Just minutes before he was looking at her as if he had been paired with an amateur and suddenly working with her is 'something special'?

"I'm going to watch rehearsal for a bit," Natalia announces, making her way over to a stool next to the pianist. "Carry on." The pit in the bottom of Giselle's stomach grows as her mother takes a seat next to Gregory in front of the mirror.

"Odette makes sense to me now," Harry whispers into Giselle's ear, as he slides behind her to resume practice. It takes everything in her to keep her face stoic as Harry's hands settle once again on her waist.

Rehearsal goes badly. Giselle can't seem to get her leg into the attitude position that Gregory wants, she losing her balance on her penchés, and Harry almost drops her on several promenades. Giselle says almost, because someone as experienced as Harry Styles would never let his partner hit the ground, but she should have, because she surely wasn't holding her weight quite right. And then there's the fact that Gregory pronounced that Giselle "looks at Harry as if he is the villain of the story instead of the prince she's fallen in love with".

Giselle wants to say that's because he is the villain. The villain of her story anyways, the person that is somehow going to turn her dream role into somewhat of a nightmare. Why couldn't she be dancing with Viktor? He was so patient and kind and he would never look at his partner as if she deserved to be in the audience instead of on stage with him.

After yet another failed run through of the first half of the pas de deux, Gregory announces that they are done for the day, but that he expects to see them in the studio bright and early tomorrow morning to work on their timing. Giselle's never been so thankful for a rehearsal to be over, and as she sits down to remove her pointe shoes, running her hands over her swollen feet, she watches Harry leave the studio without saying a word.

"I hope you realize how big of an opportunity this is Giselle. It's not one you should take lightly," her mother's voice startles her, as Giselle had almost forgotten she was there. Almost.

Natalia stands above Giselle, one hand on her hips and the other on her forehead, as if watching today's rehearsal had been exhausting for her. It probably was exhausting for her, keeping tally of all the things that Giselle had done wrong for the past two hours. Natalia's voice is shrill as she speaks again. "There are thousands of ballerinas around the world that could only dream of getting to dance with Harry Styles. And here you are dancing with him in his first show with ABT. That's an enormous responsibility, darling. This performance with him will set the stage for his entire career with our company. One that the board is hoping will last until his retirement."

Giselle nods. That's all she can do when her mother begins one of her lectures- nod. She thought maybe this would be the time that her mother told her congratulations. The time that her mother did what she'd watched countless other mother's do during her time as a dancer, wrap their arms around their daughter and express their pride to them. But instead, today is like any other day, and even with a lead role in an ABT production, Giselle still hasn't done enough to make her mother proud.

Giselle shoves her shoes into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she stands.

"And Giselle?" her mother adds, as she makes her way towards the door.

"Yes mom?"

"Might want to hit a few more cardio classes this week too, my dear. Got to make sure you are going to be an easy dancer to partner with."

And with that comment Natalia Korsakova clicks away, leaving Giselle standing in the middle of studio wondering if her biggest dream has suddenly become her biggest nightmare.

#it's here!#let me know your thoughts #writingby1dfangirls35 #harry styles #hs #harry au #ballet harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #1dff #one direction fanfiction #harry fanfiction #enemies to lovers

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v-hope · 5 years

Text

Someone speaks badly about you on a show

—and they defend you, ofc.

Pairings: OT7 x Reader

Genre: I guess fluff for default, angst

Request by @ally22042000: "Hey, I saw that request for reactions are open. Can I have one with the boys ( just Yoongi and JK if all of them are to much), where they are at an award show or interview or something like that and someone talks disrespectfull about the reader? Thx so much💜 and have a nice day."

A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, I enjoyed writing these 💕 Also, you're an idol in a couple of them and in the rest you're not. I hope you like it!

Kim Seokjin

Your boyfriend absolutely lived for whenever he got asked to be an MC at award shows.

So, naturally, he was very hyped up once he was handed his lines and had to go up on stage with two other idols – one of them being his good friend of many years, and the other one being a new artist who had debuted last year.

It was simple. Read the cards. Just read the goddamn paper notes you had been given and that was it. But, apparently, the idol by his side was way too new to this whole thing, for instead of reading what he had been handed to, he fixed his eyes on Jin to his side.

"Thank God I got to be with the fun one of your relationship".

Seokjin's eyes went to lock with his out of instinct, having not really processed what had just happened yet.

"The fun one?" his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah" the idol nodded his head. "Y/N would've made this so boring".

Jin glanced for a brief second to his friend, as if to verify he had heard just the same and his mind wasn't making it up – his awkward expression itself doing that for him.

Nonetheless, as much as he wanted to snap at him, he decided to be the better one, maybe just because he knew he was still live and didn't want to make a scene right in front of everyone.

That didn't stop him from putting him in his place though.

"Then you clearly haven't had the pleasure to meet her and witness her high class humour" Jin spoke into the camera, later placing his eyes on his friend. "Don't you think, hyung-nim?"

"I have never laughed harder than with her, Seokjin-ssi" he replied immediately.

And then out of nowhere, Jin dug his hand in his pocket, throwing multiple heart shaped red papers that had everyone screaming in a second. "Love you, baby. Don't let anyone tell you you're not funny".

What's the saying? Kill 'em with kindness? Well, Seokjin had just slayed that poor guy's soul.

Min Yoongi

"Hey, it's BTS!" the MC greeted cheerfully once the seven guys came on the shot.

One by one, they went up to her to give her a quick hug before they took their place standing next to her.

Up until then, everything was fine, and maybe things would've remained that way if she had just said nothing after Yoongi hugged her. Instead, she laughed, catching him off guard.

"At least you are polite" she shook her head in amusement.

Yoongi pouted naturally because of his confusion. "Who of us hasn't been polite?"

"Oh, no. Not you" she shook her head one more time, only to clarify: "Your girlfriend".

"Y/N-ssi?" Hobi was the one to ask on his hyung's behalf, being just as puzzled as everyone else by that statement.

At the nod of confirmation coming from the MC, Yoongi brought the microphone up to his lips. "But you've never even met her, where'd you get that from?"

"The video of her not even looking at the paps taking pictures... when you were at the airport the other day".

Yoongi's hold on the mic tightened, suddenly becoming protective of you. "So just because she's a private person she's impolite?"

"She didn't even acknowledge your fans. Come on, that was just very–"

"She's not an idol" he cut her off. "She doesn't have to put up with all of this, especially when she's not comfortable with all the attention".

"She should've known this would happen when she decided to date you".

"Guys…" Namjoon tried to stop both of them from arguing any further, for they had apparently forgotten they were still live.

But Yoongi was already done, slightly shaking his head before he put an end to it for once and for all: "She's given up enough for me already, I'm not asking her to be all bubbly around paps or our fans when she clearly isn't comfortable with it. If that's impolite to you then go off, I guess, but I'm the one dating her and I know better".

On to the next topic now.

Jung Hoseok

"Hoseok!" the girl interviewing them read effusively on her phone.

They had been interviewed person by person that day, since a few influencers had gotten the chance to record short clips with BTS to upload to their social media. This one, so far, had been one of their favourites, for its dynamics consisted in nothing but the young woman going through her Twitter reading fan questions or just letting them know about cute comments they had made.

However, that was soon to change when she caught Hobi's attention, continuing: "I loved you in the concert last week, I got to meet Y/N and she was the cu– oh, irrelevant much?" she mumbled with a small, breathy laugh, before dismissing the topic and scrolling down in search of another tweet.

Hoseok's eyebrows knitted together. "Wha–"

"Oh, here's a good one" she smiled as if nothing had happened, as if she had not heard him; having the seven men exchange uncomfortable glances. "Jimin, you and your girlfriend are such couple goals, I can't w–"

"Um…" Hoseok cut her off, stealing a quick glance to Jimin, who looked just as out of it, before his eyes fell back on the girl's. "How come Jimin's girlfriend is worth talking of and mine isn't?"

"She's an idol" she answered as if it was evident.

His jaw tightened. "So people are only worthy when they're famous now?"

"Well, no..." she uselessly tried to fix it.

"Then I believe you should respect her enough not to call her irrelevant or skip comments at the mention of her".

"But there's nothing interesting about Y/N anyway, so…"

That was all Hobi needed to turn his head to look at his members before he shook his head in defeat. "We're done here, guys. I'm not listening to any more of this nonsense".

Neither were they, which is why they were all soon to follow your boyfriend out of there.

Kim Namjoon

"So, Namjoon-ah" the entertainer's eyes focused on him, "I watched a few pictures of you at your girlfriend's graduation the other day" he smiled. "You guys looked so cute!"

A big smile spread over Joon's lips, recalling the pride he had felt that day because of you, being the happiest to have been able to be there for you.

"Aw, thank you" he said truthfully, his dimples making their appearance. "I'm really proud of her".

"You are?" the man asked.

Now, there were two ways to say those words. One with a genuinely intrigued tone, and one that was looking to offend. In this case, given not only his tone but also the way his eyebrows had raised in impression, it had been clear to everyone present that his intention had been the latter.

"I am" he stated simply, hoping that would be as much as the host would say about the topic before he moved on to the next one.

It was not.

"Don't you ever wish you were with someone more successful though?"

Namjoon's jaw tightened visibly, his eyes turning colder. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm just saying, you're Kim Namjoon" the man shifted on his seat. "Worldwide known idol, producer, rapper… whereas she's just… ordinary".

The way he had said that last word made it seem like being like that was the worst of things, and Namjoon did not like it one bit.

"Her achievements are just as important as mine" he was fast to talk in your defence. "Just because she isn't a part of the idol industry doesn't mean her dreams and passions are any less worthy of recognition than mine".

That alone had the interviewer apologising in a second, realising then how bad he had messed up. Because, in all honesty, Namjoon couldn't really care any less about you being famous or not – he would always be proud of you and your achievements no matter what.

Park Jimin

"Ah, Park Jimin!" the host exclaimed after a picture of you had popped up on the screen in between them. "You really got lucky with this one, didn't you?"

That sure did bring a bright smile to his lips, for he absolutely lived for these moments, when people acknowledged how beautiful you were.

Nonetheless, that smile of his was soon erased when the same guy added: "You should control her more, though".

With that and a frown adorning your boyfriend's face, the picture previously displaying on the screen was gone and replaced with one of you in a night dress from two days ago instead.

"Control her more?" Jimin asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah" he nodded his head. "She has a boyfriend now, she can't go around looking that hot, it might get the wrong attention".

Now, Jimin himself hadn't really liked it when you went out dressed like that, but he was your boyfriend, so he did have some kind of right to feel a little jealous of other guys thirsting over his girlfriend when she was out alone with her friends, didn't he?

This guy, however? Neither what he said was appropriate on so many levels, nor did he have the right to talk about you and your outfit like that.

"I think you should think before you speak and induce people to have unhealthy relationships" your boyfriend spoke in a low, calm voice.

Controlling you? What kind of bullshit was that?

"Come on now, I was joking" the man brushed it off with a laugh, and a very nervous one at that.

"Were you really?" Jimin raised one of his eyebrows, not believing a word. "Even if you were" he went on before the guy could open his mouth to reply, "you should maybe reflect on yourself and, instead of telling me how to treat my girlfriend because of how provocative she looks, think of why you, a guy who's over his forties, thinks that way of someone who could easily be his daughter".

He had not been rude. He had not raised his voice. Yet he did somehow manage to look so fucking scary to the man in front.

Kim Taehyung

"Y/N?" the interviewer asked in disbelief, only to scoff after receiving a nod of confirmation from Tae. "Of course she'd end up with one of you guys".

Not only did Taehyung's eyebrows furrow in that moment, but so did everyone else's – his members exchanging dumbfounded looks as your boyfriend looked to the guy in front dead in the eye.

"One of us?"

"Mhm" the guy replied simply. "She always seems to be with whoever is the most famous at the moment, so..." he shrugged.

"She's only been with other two people?" Taehyung raised one of his eyebrows.

"Who just so happened to be the moment's sensation" he reminded him. "And now she's with you".

"You can't help who you fall for" your boyfriend's stare became colder by the second.

"She's just going to break things off with you as soon as your moment of fame passes".

That was it.

"Okay, no" his voice came out like pure venom. "If she broke up with them, it's merely because they were both complete assholes to her".

"Taehyung…" Namjoon discreetly squeezed his wrist from his side.

"No, hyung" he shook his head before fixing his enraged eyes back on the interviewer. "She's the sweetest person there is, it's not her fault us guys fall for her. And it's not her fault either to have dated guys who don't deserve her. She did well to dump them, and I know she won't leave me just because of my fame's status".

And then, as everyone in the room remained silent, being absolutely perplexed by such situation, he shook his head in disappointment once again at the sight of the guy's desperate attempt to come up with something else to say.

"You know" he beat him to it, "for such an overrated interviewer, you are so goddamn misinformed".

Good thing this would get bleeped out by the editors later, that if they ever wanted this to air at all.

Jeon Jeongguk

"It's been a while since we last were together, hasn't it?" the host spoke after they had all sat down on the sofa placed in front of her. "A lot has happened since then…" a cheeky grin curved up her lips when her eyes fell on Jeongguk, "like the maknae finally getting himself a girlfriend?"

A shy bunny smile didn't wait to part Guk's lips, meanwhile his six hyungs started being chaotic like they, by this point, always were.

"He did" Namjoon was the one to answer for him, fondly patting his shoulder.

"Well, congratulations! It was about time you got someone" the woman said with a smile. "Though I must admit I never thought I'd see you with someone like her".

Your boyfriend's previous smile was replaced by slightly parted lips. "Someone like her?"

"I mean" the woman tried to get her point across, "you've said multiple times that IU is your ideal type, and Y/N's just…" she scrunched her nose in a displeased manner, "she's not exactly…"

Oh, no. There was no way in hell Jeongguk was letting her finish that sentence; the idea itself making him mad. That was the reason his shy side was long gone, being replaced by his protective one instead, which had quickly taken over him.

"She's stunning" Guk spoke in a low, determined voice. "IU is just a celebrity crush. Y/N's the woman I am in love with" he established without hesitation. "I really don't understand why you're bringing this up".

Although taken aback by Jeongguk's sudden way with his words, not having expected such outburst coming from the quietest member when it came to interviews, the woman went on:

"I'm just sayin–"

"No" Guk cut her off, shaking his head hastily, "you have nothing to say about my preferences, you don't get a say on us".

End of conversation.

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stormtodoroki · 4 years

Text

Love Sparks

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x Reader

Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

P.O.V: Reader's

Word Count: 2,644

The knowledge about how and when Quirks came along goes far beyond my family's history, at least I think. My name is Aizawa, (f/n) and I am preparing for my UA entrance exam, thankfully my mother has allowed me to come to Japan from America for schooling. She mentioned something about being able to meet my grandparents as well as my biological father, if I get the chance. She hasn't told me much about him, every time I'd ask her she'd get really mad and tell me not to ask again, but I was persistent, I just had to know. But that's not the only thing I had to know, not only are quirks a fascinating part of our lives but so is the way we find our forever person, our body's receive a shock that courses through our bodies when we make skin to skin contact with our soulmate.

I stood at the main gates and took a few deep breaths, this was it, the beginning of my future, if I passed this entrance exam I will officially be a hero student at UA High. As I took my steps over the threshold and moved closer to the designated building I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. What if my quirk might not be good enough to get through? What if someone has a similar quirk and they have better control over it than I do? I stopped walking all together and was about to turn around when someone crashed into me.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU DAMN EXTRA! STAY OUTTA MY WAY."

I looked up to see what I could only describe as an angry porcupine, his face contorted with rage if I looked at him close enough I'd probably see steam coming out of his ears. I let out a quick apology and nodded, he tsked and walked away grumbling, boy I would hate to be in the same testing area as him, I'm just grateful that I didn't say anything back to him. I shook my head clear and walked into the building, looking for my number I sat next to a kid who looked like he was in the wrong place, he dressed a bit too formal. I wonder if he's going to take the exam in that?

I took a quick glance around and gulp, there's a lot of kids here, I knew how prestigious the school was and how low the acceptance rate was, but this was just insane. My attention was soon directed to the front where- oh my gosh it's the Pro-hero Present Mic., he's giving us the run down for the practical? This should be good.

Present Mic. walked to the middle of the stage, he turned to all of us and screamed,

"Welcome to today's live performance. Everybody say, hey!"

We were all silent. You could hear crickets chirping.

"Well, that's cool, my examinee listeners! I'm here to present the guidelines of your practical, are you ready, there was silence, yet again as he screamed, "YEAH! "

Listening to Present Mic. screaming and talking loud like he always does began to give me a headache, rubbing my temples I tried to focus on what he was saying. A few rows or so away, I heard what sounded like muttering, I quietly turned and looked towards it, there was a boy with unruly green hair next to, I can't believe it… it's the angry porcupine from earlier who knocked into me. Though he didn't seem too happy to be next to the green haired boy.

"This is how the test will go, my listeners! You'll be experiencing 10-minute-long "mock cityscape maneuvers"! Bring along whatever you want! After this presentation, each head to your assigned testing location."

"Is that so kids from the same middle school can't help each other out?"

I heard from the duo behind me, shaking my head clear I was happy that I didn't know anyone from Japan so it'd be easier for me to take the test and not worry about any of my friends who were also trying to get into UA, all I have to do is worry about myself.

"Each site is filled with 3 kinds of faux villains, points are rewarded for defeating each according to their respective difficulty levels!! Use your quirks to disable, these faux villains and earn points! That's your goal, listeners! Of course, playing the anti-hero and attacking other examinees is prohibited!"

I noticed during this part of Present Mics. explanation, the boy dressed in formal attire next to me was twitching in his seat, he waited for Present Mic. to finish talking before he up abruptly stood up with his hand and paper in the air.

"Excuse me, but if I may ask a question?!"

Oh boy, this ought to be great…

"There appear to be no fewer than 4 varieties of faux, the one on this handout, such a bland, if it is one, is highly unbecoming for you. Japan's top academy we're all here today in the hopes of being molded into model heroes."

He then turned and pointed to Green Bean.

"And you with the curly hair, you've been muttering this whole time, it's distracting if this is some sort of game to you then please leave immediately! "

He muttered, sorry and put his hands to his mouth, I covered my mouth with my hand and fought back a giggle.

"Alright, alright, examinee 7111 nice catch thanks, but the 4th faux villain variety gets you zero points this more of an obstacle, have you all played Super Mario Brothers, the old retro games?"

"It's kind of like a thwomp! Only one at each site, a "gimmick" that will rampage around in close quarters."

I heard quiet murmurs about the zero pointer all around me and just shook my head in pity, clearly this is a decoy. Yes, there may be a zero pointer but it's more likely to be the biggest one there is otherwise there'd be more stationed at each site. They expect us not to worry about said faux villain, yet it'll probably be the most important one in the whole exam, I'll have to keep an eye out for it.

"Thank you, sir, I apologize for the interruption!"

With that the formal guy next to me took a bow and sat back down.

"That's all for me, I'll leave my listeners with our school motto, the great hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said, 'true heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life!' plus ultra!! Break a leg everyone! "

With that everyone got up from their spots and filed out in search of where they were to go. As I looked around the battle center I was sent to a breathed out a sigh of relief, neither the formal dude or the hot head were in sight. I looked around for the green bean to ask him what the hot head had shoved up his butt, but to my dismay he wasn't assigned to my battle center either. Looking around I see people meditating and conversing with each other, I don't need to do either. I began walking towards the front of the crowd marveling at the city front before me. I looked around and saw Present Mic. on top of a platform and smiled up at him and waved, like a buffoon he looked and and pointed to himself in confusion then waved back before pointing to the city urgently.

I took that as my cue to go so I took a deep breath and ran in, I made in about 10 feet into the city before I heard him call out.

"What are you waiting for?! There are no timers in real battles! Begin!"

I knew if I turned around I'd see all the kids running towards me so I decided to get some air coverage. Sticking my arms and hands out to my sides I shot up into the air leaving a trail of water spiraling down below me. I landed on a high rise and looked around the city, seeing a 1 pointer and a 2 pointer approaching I summoned a ball of water into my hands and contorted it into a spear.

I began to run and jump the rooftops closer to the faux villains and replicated the spear before throwing them both at each bot, taking them down. As the bots were falling I hopped onto them and used my water to slide down to the ground. Looking around them I did a double check to make sure nobody made it this far and accidentally got crushed by a giant falling robot. After seeing it was clear I decided to make way to the center on food, as I began to jog I heard a scream from behind me. I turned to look and saw a 3 pointer ready to crush a girl with pink hair and what appears to be horns? I looked closer and saw her foot was stuck and she was trying to get out without using her quirk on herself. I definitely wouldn't make it to her by running, so I had to muster up my energy and use my quirk from afar, something I'm not too good at.

"Hey! Close your eyes!"

The girl looked at me and nodded, I then stood next to one of the fallen faux villain bots and took a stray piece in a ball of water I expanded to its size, quickly I released the piece and expanded the water ball more until it was the size of the bot. I hurled the ball of water at the bot and encased it in my water ball before throwing the water ball into the air, it disappeared from the center and past the clouds.

"Okay, I may have been a little too extreme… "

I muttered to myself, as I walked over to the girl and helped free her.

"You good?"

She nodded and thanked me.

"Don't mention it, just go get some more points for yourself. I'd hate for you not to be able to get in because you were stuck and couldn't stop thanking someone who saved you."

After taking down a few more bots and saving a few people I estimate that I have around 35 points right now which means I should be in good standing. I was so lost in thought that I bumped into someone, they sent a shock through me and I froze for a second before shaking my arm.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you with my quirk are you okay?"

'What? Wait? He hit me with his quirk?'

I cleared my head and looked at him in confusion, that wasn't just the electric shock that goes through your body when you meet your soulmate?

"Oh… uh. Don't worry about it. I'm all good."

'Lies, why would I be alright? You know damn well it wasn't your quirk.'

He gave me a look of uncertainty and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Kaminari Denki. Nice to meet you uh… what's your name?"

I scoffed internally, 'really? That's how you're gonna ask me my name? Dude just how dense are you?'

"F/n L/n. Crap, sorry. L/N, F/N. Nice to meet you as well Kaminari. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and rack up more points so if you don't mind I'll just be o-"

Kaminari cut me off by yelling.

"That's a zero pointer! No way! That thing is huge!"

Looking up I saw what he was talking about, I smirked.

"U.A. definitely lives up to its prestigious name. I am impressed. Wow. This zero pointer is glorious."

Kaminari looked at me like I was insane, as if I somehow sparked a fire in him he puffed out his chest in glee and smirked.

"All the more reason for me to prove my strength. Stand back L/N I'm gonna light this bot up."

I blinked in surprise as he ran towards the bot and he charged up- no way, he wasn't kidding. Large amounts of electricity sprayed out of his hands to the bot, it froze in place for a few moments with electricity spazzing all around the bots frame, but it didn't go down. Kaminari turned to me and gave me a thumbs up and a dumb look on his face.

"Kaminari you fool! You fried your brain with that foolish attack!"

The bot soon was out of its shocked state and raised it's foot ready to pummel the poor dunce. I quickly mustered up my strength and formed a water ball and sent it at Kaminari, once he was inside I whipped it at me. Kaminari and the water ball collided into me just as the bot stomped down where Kaminari was seconds before. I stood up and slapped Kaminari, feeling another jolt of electricity surge through me.

'Awh hell. This fool is my soulmate and he's too dense to realize it's not his quirk.'

I turned to the bot and watched it moved closer before turning back to Kaminari.

"After this exam you're taking me out for ice cream for saving your fried ass not only once but twice."

I turned back to the bot and sent two water balls towards the next spots where it would step, not satisfied with the ground I sent more until the bot stepped and sunk a few feet.

"Yes! It worked!"

I happily then made a few water spears and threw them at the bot before I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes and concentrated on a tiny ball of water in my hands, I needed to focus all my energy if I wanted to make this work. I slowly enlarged the ball in my hand and listened as it started to crackle and pop, taking another deep breath I slowly opened my eyes and smirked before shrinking the softball sized water ball and throwing it at the exposed part of the bot. Once it was a foot from contacting the bot I spread my arms out enlarging the crackling ball and watched as it downed the bot.

I looked to Kaminari and sighed. I need to get him somewhere safe until this wears off, if I leave him here he'll be an easy target for the other bots. I'm pretty sure there's five minutes left meaning I can still get a few more points if I hurry up. I took some gummies out of my pocket and threw them in my mouth, I'm lucky we were allowed to bring things in that would help us, otherwise I'd have been out for the count when I helped that pink girl. I led Kaminari to a safe area and smirked as a three pointer came out of the alley next to us, I jumped up with my water and formed water around my wrist as I plummeted down and punched the bot. It went down just as Present Mic. screeched.

"It's all over! Good job everybody!

Within moments Recovery Girl was by my side looking at Kaminari, she shook her head and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Kaminari blinked and looked around in a state of confusion before looking at me.

"Come on Kaminari, you owe me an ice cream."

I poked his cheek and was sent another shock of electricity, which he definitely would have felt as all and leaned into his ear.

"After all we are soulmates, and I just saved your butt."

I gave the shocked boy a knowing smile and grasped his hand and began leasing him away towards the exit. If we both somehow get into the hero course this was going to be one exciting year...

A/N: this is AU prompt was brought upon you thanks to the bnha discord server. You can find other works by member of the discord here:

https://liliesoftherain.tumblr.com/post/614256302090223616/mha-x-reader-discord-prompt-masterlist

#bnha au #mha kaminari #kaminari denki #x reader #denki x reader #mnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x you

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deveharrington · 6 years

Text

[12 new theories on Gillovny] Chicago panel analysis (body language and words) + Why was David so tense at the panel? My conclusion: Gillovny was definitely real. Now, Gillian has moved on but David hasn't. Could it be that he resents her for moving on? Or maybe it is not solely about closing Gillovny - maybe David just cannot put down his burdens altogether.

(Also, anons, thanks so much for the really excellent asks. They are next on my list of things to address. I just wanted to get this out there while its still fresh in my mind.)

David, I’m getting tired of you. Maybe Gillian got tired of you. Maybe she got tired of you giving nothing, just like you did at this panel.

We are poking a lot of fun and speculating at the difference in their careers right now but actually, maybe it all boils down to one fundamental difference:

Gillian can admit what she is passionate about.

David cannot.

Maybe David thinks that leaving things open all the time is giving him freedom, but it is doing the opposite. Without commitment he cannot build things up. Without understanding or at least admitting the meaning behind his actions, he cannot hope to receive a meaningful reward for his efforts.

💣 [THEORY 52] Maybe David cannot put in the work for the Gillovny relationship because he doesn't want to admit how important this relationship is to him. Maybe he is afraid of his past experiences in relationships repeating themselves. Maybe applying the label of importance would bring with it the risk of loss. And, by contrast, the “relationship” with Monique, for him, represents anti-risk.

💣 [THEORY 53] And, if Gillovny was truly over or it meant nothing for HIM, why would he still be so protective over it? The way he acted in the panel... I mean, I see him as at least a courteous guy. But he seemed so cold towards Gillian, I’m sorry, but thats my perspective. But worry not. To me, this all signifies that he (yet again) is not really able to process and express his deep feelings for Gillian.

💣 [THEORY 54] *** I just have no doubt, NO DOUBT, that, if anyone who dips a toe into the ocean of Gillovny winds up thinking bout it 24/7, those who are actually living it, meaning, DAVID AND GILLIAN are also thinking about it 24/7. I’d bet my life on it. I know it. I KNOW IT.

Their self-expressions right now are no doubt connected to their experience of coping with the closing stage of their relationship. And here’s some fun, pure trash speculation, original RPF: I wonder who is more frustrated that they failed yet AGAIN?

Now that we’ve got some video evidence, let’s analyze it until it is dead and buried!

Here is a table of contents of what I picked up on during the panel:

David could not bring himself to look at Gillian most of the time or at appropriate times.

David was giving nothing. His presence was also like nothing, like he didn’t want to instigate any conversations. He seemed on the defensive 100% of the time. [+ Theories: is he hiding something? And theory on him giving nothing.]

David was extremely suspicious of a fan who was filming while he asked a question. [+ Theory: on david’s real feelings towards social media]

David talking about acting as being “lonely”, and then backtracking himself? And what he said about solo vs communal work. [+ Theory: needing control in a relationship/in general]

David cutting Gillian off with a joke when she was talking about “spending time with your other loved ones” on set.

David avoided her gaze very obviously when they were trying to answer who has the control during sex. Like, he was completely still in the panel but when this came up he rolled his whole head away from her. lmfao.

Gillian rolled her head back when asked, “how is your relationship in real life similar to Scully and Mulder?”

David on the defensive about the msr/gillovny connection, saying its too personal (but when in the past has he ever had shame about being too personal? lmfao)

David: “if you give away the trick, it’s not magic.” And what he said about thinking too deeply.

Gillian: “did you just say great daddy-o ? lmao! oh Gillian, AWKWARD.

(1) David could not bring himself to look at Gillian.

Sorry to be sappy but its like when you can’t look at someone you can’t have or you just can’t look at something period because it hurts you.

Also, maybe we can consider this side by side with @sembell’s account of David staring at the photo of him and Gillian from 2 years ago. I mean... I just... *cries forever*.

(2) David was giving nothing. As if he didn’t want to bring attention to himself, and he seemed 100% on the defensive the whole time. I think he was really scared of certain questions coming up, or maybe scared of exposing himself through his answers.

💣 [THEORY 55] Maybe not really related, but let’s try it with Gillovny. Maybe he gives nothing not because he doesn’t care, but because he is afraid that, once he starts building something up, he risks losing more with it in contrast to situations where he keeps things light and meaningless.

Especially if he does not have complete control. And to be fair to him, Gillian has demonstrated that she herself can be a lot to handle. To him, the Gillovny relationship might look like a gamble, and what does this mean for a guy who is averse to gambling and risk?

(3) David was extremely suspicious of a fan who was filming while he was asking a question. He was pushy about why the fan was filming, for what purpose. Imagining him asking Monique these same questions just made me laugh, lmfao.

I mean? This was one of the few points in the panel where it seemed like he was actually interacting with a fan? It just raises questions. It led me to speculate:

💣 [THEORY 56] Maybe David IS aware of whats going on on social media but is actually at a loss on how to address it. Not because he can’t figure out twitter or w/e, but maybe he feels what has been seen cannot be unseen, what has been known cannot be unknown.

Maybe he fears that his reputation has been tainted AGAIN, and right now, because he doesn't have the control over his career that he wants, he can’t really defend himself fully and express himself exactly the way he wants to.

Also, this would kind of denounce my earlier theory that he is in a state of neutrality or apathy. But I am so glad to be proven wrong. Actually, David’s demeanor at the panel made me more sympathetic to him.

On the bright side, maybe he does want something? He does indeed have a passion of some form. He might want it so bad but is feeling the anxiety of not being able to achieve it?

💣 [THEORY 57] The end of his relationship with Gillian left him feeling inadequate. Hence, the power imbalance “relationship” of the present.

(4) David talked about acting as being “lonely”, then later backtracked what he said.

💣 [THEORY 58] Is something on David’s mind? Why would he specifically use the word, “lonely” if that’s not even what he means or necessarily related to the question in the first place?

As for the backtrack, why did he feel the need to backtrack? Because Gillian opposed his viewpoint? Because he realized he had slipped something he didn’t really mean to say? This moment was just odd.

Its like he felt that the word he used was too revealing. This just stood out to me because usually he says his piece and usually its open to interpretation. This was a straightforward statement, then he backtracked.

But what he said about the communal experience of being a director I thought was great. I saw it as also revealing a bit about him: that he does like control, and he justifies it with giving people their own reign within HIS control.

💣 [THEORY 59] But what he said about the communal experience of being a director I thought was great. I saw it as also revealing a bit about him: that he does like control, and he justifies it with giving people their own reign within HIS control.

Maybe his relationships are about the same things. Maybe he just values the company of others over the quality of the company.

I think for sure he also needs control. When he talked about hiring people I don’t know... it struck something in me to speculate that he is also hiring his current company. I don’t know.

💣 [THEORY 60] On the subject of control, maybe the end of Gillovny left David feeling inadequate for Gillian. Hence, his power imbalance “relationship” of the present.

(9) David: “if you give away the trick, it’s not magic.” And what he said about thinking too deeply.

“If you give away the trick, it’s not magic.” Is a wonderful, very telling statement from David.

💣 [THEORY 61] If I were to translate his statement into my interpretation of David-speak, I could imagine him saying, of himself: “If I give away my truth, I will no longer be the fantasy I envision in my head”.

For example, you could apply this statement to the “relationship” M*nique, as in, he is basically lying about his intentions to her. I think you could also apply this to a number of his actions and maybe even the direction his life is going in. It’s like he’s drawn to fantasy. More evidence: all of his very ambitious projects. Good for him for having goals, I just wish him the best in being able to balance his fantasy WITH reality.

💣 [THEORY 62] And David said that it simply makes him depressed to think too hard. If that isn’t revealing then I don’t know what is.

(Also, I can completely relate, I am depressing the hell out of myself with my own theories. BUT I also know that, on the other side of facing those tough facts, is the enlightenment that I seek. It is necessary to work for your own truth. And your truth must in turn guide your actions.)

With David, I noticed he seems to avoid facing the meaning of his actions altogether.

Maybe to David, he knows what when he sees all the connections between his emotions, actions, self-expressions, ambitions, etc. he also sees all his flaws and his past mistakes also contributing to the way he creates his present situation.

I can understand the senseless action as a coping mechanism. However, in situations where you must genuinely connect with another human being, for example: Gillovny, you cannot afford not to be honest, not to be fully involved. You cannot afford to build that relationship on something false.

** I don’t think David would do that but I'm also speculating that maybe he didn’t really express his true feelings to Gillian as he was feeling them when they were together? Like, he or both of them were just treating it as a light relationship when it actually had a deep meaning for both of them? Is that why, perhaps, in the end she could not trust him completely?

💣 [THEORY 63] I’m starting to think the issue is that he is carrying around his burdens. He is allowing his past to dictate the future. He does not see that he DOES have control over his own future.

Maybe if he feels like he cannot control his future due to his reputation, this leads him to wanting control (even if it is bought or exploitative control) in his relationships with others?

Again, I relate it to the trauma of Gillovny ending. His past, in this situation, ended up affecting Gillian as well. Maybe to the point where her suspicions of him (due to their history and his reputation) could have been the source of their breakup. This is an example of his past affecting a relationship he genuinely cared about.

Hence, the current overcompensation with his need to control things. Notice how a lot of his projects that get cancelled were proposed with him being in the top position of power? For example, he wanted to be the producer of a show right off the bat, but overlooked the fact that, in reality, he would have to climb his way up to that position.

In short, his need for control right now might actually be hindering his career.

As always, I went way overboard. Thanks to anyone who reads this!

#Thank you!#David Duchovny #Gillian Anderson #Gillovny

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theclaravoyant · 7 years

Note

High school AU: popular Bobbi has a crush on adorkable Jemma. Only problem is that Jemma hasn't realized she's gay yet.

AN ~ This was so much fun! I hope you like it.

Rated T for some sexual references, but it’s mostly fluff & mutual (& eventually resolved) pining

Currently accepting Pride prompts! here’s my askbox.

Read on AO3 (~3500wd)

Suddenly I See

“Shh – it’s Jemma’s turn.”

At Stanley High, the word of Bobbi Morse was law, so the students around her hushed. Bobbi leaned forward a little in her seat as Jemma Simmons, in jeans and an unassuming pale-pink t-shirt, stood and stepped up to perform. She laid a copy of the play from which she was reciting at the front of the stage, but of course, she didn’t need to double-check it. Katherine’s monologue from The Taming of the Shrew spilled from her lips in a lilting chant, word-perfect and faithfully emphatic. When she ended it on her knees with her hands raised up to an imaginary Petruchio, a murmur went around the room and the class halfheartedly applauded, as they had done for everyone else.

Well, most of the class applauded. Bobbi didn’t even clap once, though one hand absently drifted in an attempt to do so. The other one was too busy digging into the material of the seat, reminding her to be cool.

Lincoln elbowed Bobbi.

“Shut up, Campbell,” she muttered.

“Mr Campbell,” called the teacher in a crisp tone. “Perhaps you have something you’d like to share with the class?”

Raising his eyebrows at Bobbi mockingly, Lincoln obediently got out of his seat and jogged down the stairs, turning to bow up at her just as mockingly, before nodding a noncommittal apology toward the teacher and taking to the stage for his rendition of Mercutio from Romeo and Juliet. His monologue was a bit more bumbling than Jemma’s, in terms of word-perfection, but it was delivered emotively nonetheless, and Lincoln was her friend, so Bobbi applauded properly at the end of it - even if her eyes did keep drifting down to Jemma all the while.

While Bobbi was thus distracted, the gangly form of Antoine Triplett climbed over the row of seats that had separated them, and dropped down into Lincoln’s now-empty place.

“Hey now, what’s that face?” he wondered, prodding Bobbi with a finger.

“I’m going to do it,” Bobbi swore, her eyes fixed on Jemma. The bell rang – she was running out of time – she twisted in her seat. “I’m going to tell her how good she was.”

“Was she good though,” Trip mused, “or just English?”

“I don’t know,” Bobbi retorted. “Was your Othello good, or just Black?”

“Damn, jumping out of the gate fast with that one!” Trip exclaimed. “I’m just looking out for my girl! What’s the first rule, Bobbi? Your first rule? Never fall for the straight ones.”

“She’s not –“

Bobbi cut herself off. Her heart sunk. It was all well and good to imagine, but Jemma wasn’t out and in fact, as far as Bobbi could tell, hadn’t even thought to question the idea that she could be anything other than straight. In terms of her actual sexuality, that didn’t mean much, but in terms of Bobbi’s dating prospects, it meant a lot. It was an elephant in the room that would be incredibly poor form for her to point out. She’d helped many a fledgling gain their little gay wings, but the beginning of the journey was a path Jemma’s own feet would have to find.

Bobbi told herself this whenever she was overcome with the desire to grab Jemma and make out with her against a locker.

It was becoming less and less effective.

In fact, Bobbi was even starting to weave a story in her own head of a queer Jemma, based on their interactions, and the things that Bobbi had seen and imagined; nebulous possibilities fuelled by subtext. She was, more and more, getting her hopes up, and her first rule was collapsing under the weight of a crush with such potential that she had not even realised how far she had taken it until now. Until this moment. Until she watched Jemma, laughing and content with Fitz and Daisy down the front of class, utterly unburdened by this crush, or by the tumultuous self-inspection that came with questioning oneself intimately. She was happy, and Bobbi was happy, but also frustrated, because she couldn’t tell Trip that she hadn’t broken her first rule after all.

(Well. She couldn’t tell him yet.)

They hurried to next period in their own groups, and sat apart, like they always had, until the teacher rearranged them.

“Jemma Simmons – Bobbi Morse.”

Jemma squirmed with glee, and packed to change desks so hurriedly she almost dropped everything before she pulled her head in. Of course, in that moment, even she was not sure why she was so excited to be partnered with Bobbi. It was not as if they had not worked together before. It was not as if there were not half a dozen people of comparable ability in their class (though, she would argue, none on the same par of neatness or commitment as the two of them were). It was not as though Bobbi would consider it a memorable experience, either; in fact, Jemma found herself rather nervous that it would go badly. For all her intelligence and general likeability, she had a penchant for being blunt and, when she tried to steer away from that, “off-putting” or “suffocating.” It was a balance she had always struggled with but one that, for some reason, seemed especially important today. She must refrain from putting her foot in her mouth for the course of this two-week assignment. She could manage that, right? Yes. She and Bobbi would be friends, if it killed her.

(Friends. Later, she’d laugh about that.)

Friends could admire the way Bobbi seemed to look like a professional in the school-issue lab coats, right? It was purely aspirational. The rest of their class tended to look like bumbling children in oversized, overly generic white jackets. Bobbi looked like a proper Doctor, and one that Jemma would trust with her life. In a totally platonic, professional-admiration-based kind of way.

Friends could admire Bobbi’s handwriting too, of course, and smile at the little loops it made, right? Jemma wondered: how did she have time to write like that? Had it been bred into her? Genetically engineered? It wasn’t as if Jemma had the most chicken-scratchiest penmanship, of course, but when Bobbi wrote, she oozed perfection and Jemma couldn’t entirely quantify what it was. It just felt like anyone who could write both that level of content quality, and aesthetic quality, was worth mooning over.

Friends could admire the way Bobbi’s eyes looked, too. Couldn’t they? Of course they could. It was a matter of objectivity. Not only were they bright and intelligent, but they were an unusual and pleasant shade of blue: it was only natural to find them attractive. Bobbi’s face was made of bold shapes, with a strong jaw-line and cheekbones, and her eyes stood out. Her face was aesthetically pleasing. That was just a fact.

Right?

Not for the first time, Jemma’s eyes trailed down to the rainbow Pride flag pin that Bobbi kept on her pencil case. She herself had always admired Bobbi’s – well, her pride, Jemma supposed. Her out-ness, her confidence with it, and the way the school seemed not to mind about it all that much. No doubt she’d faced her fair share of demons, probably, but Bobbi was one of the popular girls here – even amongst guys, which Jemma found fascinating… had found fascinating… now was starting to find fascinating in a whole new light. Bobbi, everything Bobbi, had seemed unattainable just a few days before, but unattainable in a conceptual, personality-trait kind of way. Like the kind of person who had her life way too together to be real. But now, once it had entered her mind, another thought lodged in Jemma’s brain that maybe, her fascination had been related to the fact that Bobbi had been unattainable in other ways, too. Surrounded by her clique, and so high-achieving and beloved and athletic at the same time, and a social butterfly on top of that – Bobbi was enviable in her own right. But smart, fit, charming? Were those not all desirable traits too?

Jemma shook her head and twirled her pencil between her fingers, trying to draw herself back to the task at hand with a few rapid-fire conclusions. She had dated boys. Quite liked a few of them, and quite liked their advances too. She had never dated girls, or looked at one sexually really, except for objectively, but everyone did that, probably. She had a few female celebrity crushes, but didn’t everybody? So she wasn’t gay. Ipso facto, she didn’t have a crush on Bobbi and never had and never would and all that unattainability rubbish was just her getting up in her own head again. Damn psychology.

(Fortunately for her, Jemma would later recount, it is not that easy to kill an idea.)

Jemma shoved her eyes back to the board somewhat forcefully and Bobbi lowered her own, twirling a pencil absently as she stared. She sighed. She had been hoping, always hoping, and though somewhat prepared to be let down, it still hurt a little each time it happened. Each time Jemma looked, and then looked away; each time it seemed like there was a question, or even just a breath, on the tip of her tongue, and she did not let it fall. Bobbi was frustratingly sure now, that she was not imagining things, but Jemma seemed just as frustratingly sure to keep said things to herself. Sometimes, Bobbi daydreamed up a collection of haphazard, farcical scenarios designed to trigger in Jemma a rom-com-like revelation, but the thought of forcing it – whether she was imagining things or not – made Bobbi feel predatory and wrong. There was nothing to do but wait it out and see how things developed. Her crush was her own problem, not Jemma’s. And besides, Jemma clearly had enough of her own stuff to sort out.

Even if she was taking so long about it, and dancing so painstaking close to the truth, that Bobbi wanted to snap a pencil.

It wasn’t all frustrations though. Bobbi did allow herself some pleasantries in her own head, and complex bundle of attractions aside, Jemma was great to hang out with. She was smart, in lots of ways and on lots of topics, and she was energetic and kind for the most part, and she loved to talk. She was honest, about the good and the bad, and sometimes she was blunt to the point of rudeness to which Bobbi, though she’d struggle to admit it, could relate. Bobbi loved her, in ways that could not clearly be divided into friendship and romance. She loved the way Jemma’s eyes lit up when she got excited, because it was beautiful, but also because it meant she was happy. She loved the way Jemma tucked her hair behind her ears, both at the same time, whenever she was nervous or needed to concentrate. It just felt very her. Bobbi loved the care and enthusiasm with which Jemma distributed cupcakes to Bobbi’s group one lunchtime. Half of them were made with applesauce instead of butter, Jemma told her. Fitz had bet her they wouldn’t taste as good, so she wanted a blind test. Scientifically rigorous; fluffy and adorable. The eternal dichotomy of Jemma Simmons.

(The cupcake test was definitely not, Jemma maintained, an excuse to spend more of the day with Bobbi. And she definitely did not, she insisted, spend the rest of the day thinking about the way Bobbi had licked the soft pink icing off her lips, or how much Jemma wished those lips had been her own.)

Bobbi, of course, swiftly resigned herself to daydreaming alone about that icing and how good it would taste on Jemma’s lips. She dreamed about how Jemma’s pupils had dilated at the sight of it, and how much more it would’ve taken – not much more - to make her weak at the knees. She dreamed about spending a lazy morning baking with Jemma, dancing around in their pyjamas and making a mess of a fantasy kitchen she must have pulled from a movie or advertisement she’d since forgotten. Sometimes they had a dog, for some reason. She didn’t question it. It was only a daydream, after all. A stockpile of fuel for her unquenchable crush - not that she was trying that hard to quench it: if she only had two weeks, she was going to make it count.

But as those two weeks came to an end, Bobbi gathered her dreams and fantasies to one side, and committed herself to enjoying their last few days together for the fun and challenging assignment and vibrant friendship that it was. When the night of the science fair came at last, and it was time to present their project, it all flew by, flawless and fast. Too fast. Afterward, when the gravel crunched under her tyres as she pulled into Jemma’s drive to drop her home, Bobbi held her breath.

“Well… thanks for the lift,” Jemma said.

Her voice sounded a little shaky and wistful, but maybe that was just an effect of the silence, and Bobbi’s own mind. Or maybe she could feel it too – that slight ache that was now making a home in Bobbi’s chest. An ache full of the knowledge that they could have had so much more and that they were about to watch it slip away. Tomorrow, they’d return to their normal seats in biology. They’d return to their regular groups at lunch, and to sitting on opposite sides of the theatre in drama, and to their pre-This patterns of after school lives and extra curriculars. They’d return to how it was, which had been fine, but hadn’t been all it could be.

Still, Bobbi smiled.

“No problem,” she said, but the words left her lips just as Jemma took in a rush of air and blurted:

“How did you know?”

Jemma startled herself when the question came out, but her fingers refused to reach for the door handle and her body seemed determined to hold her here until she’d got some kind of response. First, Bobbi took a moment of silence to turn the car’s engine off (and to lock away her crush; it was not the time or the place for it). Then she looked back at Jemma with more longing than she meant to, and with a smile.

“Know about what?” she asked, because know about me, or know about you? felt like it would send Jemma running.

“Know about –“ Jemma stumbled through it. “You know, that you liked girls. How did you know? And, when? Why? What does it feel like?”

Not the questions of somebody curious, or looking for a thread to pull. No. These were questions Bobbi herself had asked, on more than one occasion, and they made her smile deepen.

“It feels amazing, first of all,” she said. “Although, there’s a lot of doubt involved too. I’m working on it, but sometimes it feels like there’s something to prove.”

Jemma felt her heart swell and shrink again, in a moment. Bobbi had answered a question she hadn’t thought to ask, and Jemma knew in that moment that Bobbi had seen through her. Strangely enough, though, it didn’t make her want to run. Rather, she felt like reaching down into herself and pulling out more of herself, of her soul, to show Bobbi. She listened instead.

“I guess I’d say I knew,” Bobbi continued, “a long time ago. Well, not that long. Middle school. My first kiss was a girl, even though my prom date was a guy. He dumped me the day before the dance, and my friend found me alone outside ‘coz I’d still gone for some reason, and we ended up kissing. Just a little peck on the lips, really, but it was a kiss. I was twelve. It opened up a door for me, I guess, and I went exploring through it, and here I am. But not everybody knows that young. And not everybody knows with a kiss. Sometimes it’s a lot more conceptual and harder to figure out. It’s like, you think you want that girl’s dress, you know, but then actually it’s more like… you want that girl’s dress on your bedroom floor.”

She laughed, and Jemma found herself laughing too. She’d been expecting this conversation to be a lot heavier, and while it certainly felt significant, with every piece of advice Bobbi offered, her heart felt lighter and lighter. Bobbi didn’t ask her to share her own feelings and talk through them – for which Jemma was grateful, although she did offer the occasional tidbit – but they talked for a long time about the nature of different forms of attraction and the complexity of figuring it all out. It seemed simple and complex both at once, Jemma thought to herself, and as Bobbi talked her through some of the labels – the complexities - she felt the acceptance – the simplicity – settle in the back of her heart and her mind.

I like girls.

I like Bobbi.

I like girls.

I like Bobbi.

Does she like me?

“…and – oh, shit,” Bobbi cursed. “I’ve got to be home by midnight. Sorry to kick you out, but I’ve gotta go.”

“It’s no problem,” Jemma assured her. “I should be getting inside too. Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime.”

“But- um, don’t tell anyone at school about it, okay? I’m still thinking through it.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.”

Jemma sighed, relieved and satisfied, and got out of the car, gathered her books, and strode up the drive with a spring in her step and a grin on her face. Bobbi grinned after her as she started up the car, and tried not to fist-pump the air as she drove away.

It didn’t go back to the way it was before – not quite. How could it, why would it, after that? Jemma did go back to spending more time with Fitz and Daisy, but she smiled at Bobbi when they passed in the hall, or sat across the room from each other. Bobbi put in the Good Word of a Popular Girl on Jemma’s behalf when she wanted something, and helped pull sway in the Student Council elections – in return, she jested, for some more of those applesauce cupcakes, which Jemma was happy to provide. They danced around each other for a while, a pleasant equilibrium of mutual crushing, while Jemma sorted herself out. Bobbi slipped her resources and kept her secrets. Jemma told Fitz and Daisy, and when she was ready, came to school with three little star badges in a row on her pencil case: one pink, one purple, one blue.

At a gesture from Jemma, Bobbi took the seat beside her instead of her usual in biology. Their partners swapped without a word, if perhaps a bit of a grin. Nobody questioned the ways of Bobbi Morse, but the rumour mill was in full swing by now. This bit of gossip was one of the juicier ones in the saga so far. Watching the other students murmur excitedly, Jemma tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. Bobbi shook her head.

“Ignore them,” she said, and nodded at the stars. “You figured something out?”

Jemma beamed, and felt her chest expand a little.

“I’m still tossing up between yellow and purple,” she said, “but it’s early days, so I’m happy.”

“Well, that’s good.” Bobbi found herself blushing, cheeks burning with the question she’d been hanging onto for so long. Instead, she asked: “What’d you get for production? Happy with that too?”

“Lead.” Jemma grinned smugly.

“Of course,” Bobbi agreed. “I’m stage manager.”

“Well, you know what that means.”

Jemma’s tone was laden with possibilities that captured Bobbi’s attention like the smell of freshly baked goods on a windowsill. She almost laughed at Bobbi’s expression as she expanded on her offer:

“Lots of after-school stays… Long rehearsal hours together - I’ll be called a lot, after all. And I might need a ride. A few rides, in fact.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow, and Bobbi caught on.

“Some of those rehearsals go to six, seven o’clock,” Bobbi mused. “We might have to get dinner together sometime.”

“That we might.”

“I guess it’s settled, then, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

“How are you feeling?”

Bobbi laughed a little, watching the blush creep up Jemma’s cheeks instead of a verbal answer. That dizzying validation: Bobbi remembered it well, so instead of probing Jemma further, she intertwined their fingers together below the desk. Their hands hung together until the teacher walked in, when they reluctantly crept apart and back to work. A few of the students behind them snickered with laughter, but this time Jemma didn’t seem bothered. She sat taller, as attentive as ever, and the class launched onward, with the pleasant pressure of Bobbi’s grasp still tingling in her fingertips.

#simmorse #simmorsefic #aosfemslash #aospositivitynet #aosficnet2 #happy pride!#prompt me stuff #clara's fic tag #Anonymous

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auskultu · 7 years

Conversation

Yardbird Jimmy Page says, 'Open Your Mind'

Hit Parader magazine: WHEN YOU were a session man, were you playing bass or lead guitar?

Jim: Lead guitar.

HP: Was it difficult to switch to bass when you joined the Yardbirds?

Jim: It was at first because I tended to play it like a guitar. With the bass you just play a sort of root thing. I was just leaping around all over the place with great speed and I had to stop doing that. I managed to simplify it. But at first I was playing far too quickly.

HP: I read somewhere that you were going to play lead soon?

Jim: I already have because Jeff was taken ill. Chris took over bass.

HP: Who were some of the other people you have accompanied?

Jim: Them, the Kinks, Georgie Fame, I did some stuff for the Rolling Stones. Actually, we just did a lot of things for fun for Andrew Oldham. In fact, it really was good fun. But I've never been on any of their records. I was on the Who stuff. Petula Clark, P.J. Proby. Nearly everybody who didn't have their own backup group.

HP: How would you describe your style of guitar playing?

Jim: My style has always been very similar to Jeff Beck's. We knew each other for about 9 years. We've always liked the same music and we had the same tastes. As a result, it's been quite easy to fill in for him. When we get the two lead guitars going, it should be pretty good. Because it'll be like two identical people playing together.

HP: What's your opinion of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band?

Jim: I haven't seen them live. But their album is pretty good. As a harp player, Butterfield is really great. He's better than anybody in England. Lots of people speak of Mike Bloomfield, but there are a lot of guys in England who play that stuff.

HP: Beck is an excellent guitarist, but why isn't more of his solo work heard on records?

Jim: How far can you go? We've been told our latest album is too far advanced. There's too much electronic stuff on it. But I think it's all basic. We cut a single with Jeff. It's a Bolero thing. It's very exciting and strange. It's either going to be a monster or a bomb. It's an instrumental based on the classical Bolero piece. Beck's guitar-playing is exploited quite a bit there. But how much can you do that the public will accept? You either make a commercial record or a musicians' record. You've got to draw the line somewhere.

HP: Are there some good blues bands in England?

Jim: There's one called John Mayall's Blues Breakers. Mayall himself is terrible. And then Eric Clapton is good, but he's in the Mike Bloomfield bag, and that's that. And there are lots of good guitarists in minor bands.

HP: Would you say blues is still a big rage in England?

Jim: No, not really. It's still got a market; it's the same thing as in America.

HP: Are you basically a blues guitarist?

Jim: Before the Indian thing was exploited, everyone said I played like an Indian. Mainly because I was interested in the music so many years back. I had the albums and I sent to India for a sitar. I had one long before George Harrison. I tried to learn the actual classical music. It's very difficult. There are so many sides to it. I tried to adapt that to my guitar playing.

HP: Why have musicians latched on to these Indian sounds?

Jim: Because it's so esoteric. Everybody thinks they understand. They get a new sound and they say this is it. But really, they don't know what's going on, I'm sure. I've heard people in groups playing sitars and they don't know what's going on. They don't even tune them up right. Apparently, George Harrison has become deeply interested in it. He plays a sitar on their new album and he was getting along very well. People like Brian Jones just got it for the one record and I doubt if they'll ever use it again.

HP: There are a lot of Indians living in London, aren't there?

Jim: Yes, there are quite a few. Strangely enough, when you speak to them of Indian music, they don't seem to know anything about it. The only thing they know is the western music or the Indian film music, which is completely different from the classical. When you ask them about it, they recommend you to the Asian society or something. I met Ravi Shankar and that's how I got my information on how to tune up the sitar.

HP: Will you be writing material for the Yardbirds now?

Jim: With them, not for them. When one of us has an idea, we all chip in on it until it's finished. I wasn't on the last two, but 'Shapes of Things' and 'Over, Under, Sideways, Down' were all made up in the studio.

HP: What kind of equipment do you use?

Jim: When Chris is on rhythm guitar, we use any old amplifier because it isn't that important, but on bass we have a big set-up with 2 or 3 speakers.

On this tour, we've been given Jordan equipment. It's all transistorized equipment. We're sort of experimenting with it. It hasn't worked out properly on the lead guitars. But it's been sufficient on the bass. On bass, we've got 6 speakers to 8 speakers. In England I've been using a Showman Fender amplifier. And a Fender concert amp which is a smaller one with 4 ten-inch speakers. I link them up together so I get double the power. Through one you get the bass frequencies and through the other I use feedback and the treble frequencies. This is about the best set-up I've had so far. But Jordan is working on some new equipment which should prove to be great. I play a Gibson Les Paul guitar, Chris has an Epiphone bass and there's another Gibson floating around. Eventually, it will be all Gibson because we bought them and never bothered to change them. They're quite adequate.

HP: How did you finally end up with the equipment you've got now?

Jim: We just worked on it. I've been playing guitar for a few years now and I just work on this certain line. You do as best you can. The only problem being we blow up quite a few amps. We did one show and I had 4 amplifiers all linked up. It must have been about 400 watts all together. Those were Vox amps. They just can't take the volume. The speakers blow and then you don't get any sound at all. The Jordan ones didn't blow up, but they don't have enough volume. I've never broken a guitar, but I've been through nearly every make. I've never found a guitar which is exactly what I want. At the moment, I'm happy with this Gibson. I've also got a Fender Telecaster. I find every guitar's got a sound of its own and you can use them all and get something out of them. I haven't used the Telecaster on stage yet. Actually, all my guitars are in England because I came over playing bass. I switched to Jeff's guitar. His is very close to mine because they're both Les Paul models. Normally, we all travel by plane and the equipment goes by van. We have two road managers, one for the equipment and one for us.

HP: Have you found a big difference in British youth and American youth?

Jim: The Americans are a little more narrow-minded. The English, at the moment, are completely broad-minded. This wasn't the original concept of the English, was it? You can shock people in America very easily. If people are shocked, that's their bad luck. They should open their minds. In England, you could walk around in the nude and you wouldn't shock anyone. They'd think you should be put away, but they wouldn't beat the guts out of you. Also, the age of consent is 16. You can marry at 16. The attitude over there is completely free, just like the attitude toward clothes.

HP: Are you really that concerned about how you look?

Jim: I'm not really concerned with clothes. People put that on my shoulders. In actual fact, I'm pleased to see people walking around in outrageous things. They're throwing off the chains of a society that was. It's probably making England completely decadent, but so what. Billy Graham was just over there in England and if you walked around with him, you'd have seen it look all pretty decadent. I'd have to agree. He didn't make any impact at all. Actually, it's a forecast of the end of society. But I don't care because I'll be dead before it ends. If we've come this far in five years, it should really be something in another five. I'd like the new society to be a peaceful one but it won't be, because violence seems to be the answer to every problem. Every fringe society must be experiencing this. We walk around with long hair and someone shouts something, so you give them an answer back which is a little sharp and which they don't quite expect. Then they can't give you an answer, so they come to fists. What sort of mentality is that? I can't argue with a person like that.

It must be terrible for someone to have to fight in a war. I haven't had to think about wars. It's just something I haven't had to contend with, really, I hadn't realized what a big problem it is. I've just seen the horrors of it.

HP: Well, England doesn't have any big thing going now.

Jim: No, this is it. We have no conscription whatsoever. I'll never be drafted or anything.

HP: They won't send you over to Africa to beat up some people or anything?

Jim: Well, they don't do this. People wouldn't do this. If they had a mass conscription now, I dread thinking how many people would go. Because it would only be 40% of those who would have gone before they dropped conscription. People don't want to know about it anymore. They think, well, why should I waste two years of my life and probably lose my life in the process. They just don't want to know anymore.

They've got a regular army where you join and you jet paid every week for doing it. And you just do maneuvers and things.

HP: They have that here, too!

Jim: Yeah, sure, but yours is more of a reality because they get drafted over to Viet Nam. Basically, I must be a coward, but I just couldn't shoot someone. I guess it's different if they're looking at you with a gun and you're looking at them with a gun. You'd have to do it, though. I'd just be violently sick afterwards. I'd never forgive myself, anyway. I'm not the sort of person who's the violent type. I've never never had a fight in my life. I've never put my fists up to anybody. I've never needed to. Only, as I say, through the long hair problem people have said things. But it's never developed. Even if you say come on then, they still won't do anything. Basically, they've still got no guts. But even if they did, I'd run a mile. It's funny because you think, well, what are they going to do, and they don't do anything. So they just wasted the whole time laughing at you. Perhaps they just laugh to reassure their own masculinity.

HP: Why do you think there's such a big concern with clothes?

Jim: I don't know. It's a projection of one's character, I suppose.

HP: Is Carnaby Street a real madhouse?

Jim: It's so easy to send that Carnaby Street thing up. It really is. It's really a street with lots and lots of clothing shops. It's quite a revelation if you've never seen anything like it before, and I'm sure nobody over here has. There's nothing like that. It's just teen-age fashions, bizarre styles. You go there on a Saturday and the kids are there spending money. This is all part of the game, I suppose. Yeah, they spend a fortune on clothes. I don't know where some of the young ones get it from. You see them walking around and they must have spent twice what they've earned.

HP: Do they have things like charge accounts over there?

Jim: No. Not on Carnaby Street, anyway. They won't take checks or anything, not from the kids. Not unless they know you. But there is a big leaning towards clothes and fashions. It's an extension of their character. People have become more aware of the fact that, if they dress up and they look really elegant, I'm not saying Carnaby Street, but if they've got a very clean-cut suit on and still look pretty hip with it and not just sort of middle class, it has the affect on a girl.

HP: What's the biggest thing you dislike about America?

Jim: You see, the only thing that I've seen is violence, but I've only been doing concerts. I don't get out to walk around and meet people very often. If I was walking around the street, I probably wouldn't see any violence whatsoever. So, it's difficult. You see, I haven't seen much of America on this tour. But, when I had my holidays before in Hollywood, I enjoyed it. I thought it was great.

HP: You spent your holiday in Los Angeles?

Jim: Before I joined the group, I spent my holidays for the last couple of years in Hollywood.

HP: What are some of the things you enjoyed in Hollywood?

Jim: The weather. The weather's pretty bad in England. I met quite a few people and made some good friends. I liked the Sunset Strip; there's quite a bit happening there. I got to see groups I could never see in England.

HP: If you had a choice, where would you like to live?

Jim: Miles away from anybody. That's what I'm going to do when I get back. I'm buying a house. It's about a half a mile from anybody else. It's got a river, five bedrooms. That's for when the group slows down a bit. But we'll be working hard for the next year. There's so many things I'd like to do that I don't have the time for now. Things which are very important to me, like painting. But it's best to work now and make all the money I can.

HP: What kind of books do you like to read?

Jim: I used to study religion when I was in art school. But I stopped.

HP: Was that how you got interested in Indian music?

Jim: It may have been subconsciously. But I didn't just read about it and then go onto it. At the moment, I read sort of very strange things like I, Jan Cramer. Things which are a social comment. This Cramer is a beat painter in Holland. I like Henry Miller, too.

#yardbirds #jimmy page #hit parader #1967 #1960s #sixties #60s

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