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goodlucktai · 8 years

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I just read that drabble you wrote two days ago -- the one where Kitamoto gets hurt -- and and and... COULD THERE PLEASE BE A CONTINUATION?? I really want to see how Nishimura and Kitamoto react to flying on Madara and their realization that Natsume indeed can see youkai and and and I'm imagining Natsume being terrified that they'll be too scared to approach him from now on but they're just like dude, you're our friend and always will be, and it'll be Tanuma's first time flying as well and AAHHH

a continuation of this

Disappearingcats and disembodied voices are both things that Satoru was notprepared to deal with during their overnight camping trip; rightalongside his best friend breaking his wrist, and the four of themgearing up for an admittedly treacherous hike back down the mountainin the dark.

ButNatsume’s face is white with real fear, and his eyes are as dark asthey were the day Satoru met him, even if his expression doesn’treally change much. His arms are curled around his middle the waythey’d usually be curled around his cat, like a guard – as if thosefrail hands could shield him from anythingthat really wanted to hurt him – and, remarkably, Satoru can put asideeverything else that’s going on to frown at his friend.

Sure,there was a violent curl of wind and a screen of white smoke, andNyan-nyan-sensei vanished into thin air. Kitamoto stumbled back a fewsteps in alarm, but Tanuma was there to keep him steady, which leaves Satoru free to jab a finger at Natsume and snap, “You look like you’regonna pass out! Take a breath!”

Someof that awful, bleak dread in Natsume’s face recedes to make room forbewilderment instead. Satoru has that affect on people.

Andsure he’s scared, somewhere, in the back of his mind. His hands areshaking a little, so he shoves them in his pockets as he takes a fewfake-fearless steps forward, and makes sure to scowl at Natsume thesame way he always does; when Natsume won’t share the answers he gotfor their homework, or some of the tasty-looking food Touko packs inhis lunch. Like it’s everyday and normal, and Satoru’s not going to do –whatever it is Natsume is so afraid Satoru might do.

Satorudoesn’t like being on the other side of this wall Natsume puts up.He likes to think the two of them are close, these days, and hedoesn’t want to get pushed farther away.

“Iknew your ugly cat was weird,” Satoru leads with. “It cantalk, can’t it? I’ve heard it acouple of times, haven’t I?”

“Cheekybrat,” the voice of an old man grumbles from behind Natsume’sshoulder. Satoru jumps, and hears Kitamoto mutter a faint “what thehell,” but Natsume lifts a hand almost by reflex, reaching out asthough he’s patting a large animal that isn’t there. And seeing himdo that is a little disarming, like watching someone greet a faithfuldog at the front door. “If you could see my true form, you would beawed by it.”

Really,maybe it isn’t as surprising as it should be. Natsume’s always been alittle jumpy and a little odd, but once upon a time he was a quiet,brand new transfer student with reserved mannerisms and glass eyes,and Satoru yelled hurtful things at him in the library over anorigami book. Satoru never apologized for that – never explainedthat it was something dark and hateful weighing on his heart, makinghim do and say things he didn’t mean – but he had never needed to.Because Natsume seemed to understand without asking, and followedSatoru when that darkness on his heart steered him blindly into thewoods, and knew how to save him, and carried him back home on thinshoulders, in thin arms.

MaybeSatoru has been willfully blind up until now, putting weird incidentsout of his mind as they happened so Natsume’s smile would stoplooking so strained. And maybe it was a kindness then, but it feelslike a disservice now.

“Nyan-nyan-sensei?”he says carefully. “Um – sorry, I’ve never talked to a talkingcat before – uh, so, how are you? And – what areyou? And – where…” he adds, sweeping their clearing with shrewd eyes, “…areyou?”

“He’sa yokai,” Tanuma steps in. His voice is so calm andsteady that it soaks most of the tension out of the air like asponge, and his eyes are focused on Natsume, clear and bright andsupportive. “Natsume can see them. They give him a lot of troubleat times, so Ponta looks after him. Like a bodyguard.”

“That’swhy he’s always following you around,” Kitamoto says carefully. Theshock didn’t do him any favors – jumping back like that probablyjarred his arm, if the way he’s wincing is any indication – butthere’s nothing mean in his face when he looks at Natsume. Satoru hasno clue why Natsume was afraid there ever could be. “I wondered howhe always managed to tag along on our school trips.”

Natsumeis looking back and forth between the three of them slowly, frozensomewhere between disbelief and confusion. He’s digging his fingersinto fur that Satoru can’t see, clinging to his calico cat’s trueform the way Kitamoto’s little sister used to cling to their mom’ssmock when she was younger. A safety blanket, Satoru thinks, andmoves stubbornly closer. Natsume doesn’t need oneof those right now, he’s not in any danger among his best friends.

“Soyou already told Tanuma about all this?” Satoru can’t help feeling a little hurt,but he’s mostly just trying to get that look off Natsume’s face whenhe adds, “That’s not fair, I knew you first!”

Tanumasmiles kindly at Satoru, seeing right through his efforts the way healways does whenNatsume is involved. “It’s not something he talks about easily,even to me. I can sense yokai, too, but only barely. That’s why I wasso interested in meeting Natsume after I heard all those rumors abouthim. I had never met anyone else who was aware of yokai before.”

“Me,too,” Natsume offers at that point. His voice is very soft, but hepresses bravely forward anyway. “I’ve always been the only one whocan see them. And it’s dangerous, when other people get involved. So,I – I keep it a secret. I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you,I promise it’s not that. Sorry.”

Satorustares at him. The single step between them feels about a mile wide,and yawning wider.

Healways knew there had to be a reason someone like Natsume grew up sounwanted, passed from place to place, from family to family. Therehad to be a reason why people spoke so badly of him, why rumorsfloated after him at every new school he enrolled in. Rumors thatcalled him creepy, andcursed, and a liar.

Back when Natsumewas little, Satoru thinks, it probably wasn’t as easy not to flinchwhen he saw a monster in the window. It probably wasn’t as easy notto cry when something scary followed him home.

And Satoru has seenhim faint without warning in the hallway at school, and fall off abridge into the deep of the river as if he was pushed, and run awayinto the dark of the forest by himself, and shout half of a heatedargument into thin air. He comes to class with dark circles undertired eyes and a wan smile that doesn’t touch the rest of his face,only leases impersonal space with his mouth.

It’sdangerous enough that he needs a bodyguard, Satoru realizes. It’sscary enough that Tanuma always looks pale when Natsume is late forschool.

“Yeah,”Kitamoto says quietly. “I think I understand.” He’s watchingNatsume carefully, but when Natsume glances at him, Kitamoto softenswith a grin. “So can we pet him? You know Nishimura’s dying to.”

A gustof warm, musky air hits the side of Satoru’s face and rufflesNatsume’s hair – a huff of breath, followed by a disgruntled, “Doyou mistake me for a household pet?”

“Sensei,”Natsume scolds him, at the same time Tanuma says, “Mistake? Ponta,he carries you around every day like a doll.”

They do get to pethim. For all his mighty bluster, and the animated way he and Natsumebicker with each other, he subsides after a few minutes with athroaty grumble. Natsume guides Satoru’s hand to the thick of soft,downy fur, and it’s a little trippy – after all, he can’t seeanything there – but more than that, it’s really cool.

“What does helook like?” Satoru asks, trying to find Nyan-nyan-sensei’s favoritespot to be scratched behind the ear. The invisible body beneath hishand shifts, startling him for a moment, until he realizes thecat-yokai is leaning into the touch. Like a dog, he thinks again, gleefully,and finally finds a big, soft ear to scratch behind. “What color ishe? Is he really, really big? Can he really fly? Are we really goingto fly?”

When he glances up, Kitamoto and Tanuma are both smiling at him – so warm and fond that it’s a little embarrassing, so Satoru quickly looks over at Natsume instead. At Natsume, whose amber eyes are light again, and trembling wetly with something that looks like downright staggering gratitude, and jeez, he’s no better than the other two.

If he thanks me I’ll hit him, Satoru decides mulishly, even as his face burns under the combined attention. Natsume doesn’t, though. He wipes a sleeve over his face, even though he hasn’t cried, and turns to offer Kitamoto his hand.

Looking a little taller, and a little older, and a little softer in the bright moonlight as he says, “Yeah. Let me show you.”

#natsuyuu fic #my writing #prompt #anonymous #w o w this got a little long #there isn't any actual flying :') my bad #i worried as i was writing this that this sort of story is overdone #and im not sure i got everyone's voices right here #but i tried! hope you like it!!#natsuyuu #natsume yuujinchou

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lesbiandonnanoble · 3 years

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i feel like i didn’t answer that ask well enough so the reasons the war games is the best old who serial are:

it’s written and acted with much more intention than most old who is. especially if you’ve seen the rest of patrick troughton’s stories or at least a few as a lead up, you can see he’s putting more into his acting in the war games. and the character writing compliments this too and it just gives a great sense of impending dread and heartbreak before anything really bad even happens

the foreshadowing. w/o saying too much this is a story that begins with a completely unfair trial that the accused cannot defend themselves properly throughout and are given a death sentence by the end of, and ends with what is essentially the exact same thing on a much more serious level

the atmosphere/set work. i just have a huge love for the sets in this serial i think they’re all designed so extremely well and the production is good. i like it because it makes me feel like i’m watching an old war movie and then the sci fi just starts seeping through the cracks in a great unsettling way it’s fantastic

the way it uses the past serial formula to benefit it. the war games does this magnificent, magnificent thing where it plays on the formula of the past troughton serials so that, while the doctor has already realized that what’s going on is much, much more real and serious than usual, zoe and jamie are still operating within the traditional serial narrative. the doctor is trying to play along a bit because he doesn’t want to worry them but he’s getting distracted from that formula to engage with the bigger threat & it shows the audience how frightening the time lords are but also shows us how, in a small way, the serial adventures are sort of like play-adventures compared to what he’s actually scared of. and it’s just so so so so good

the sadness of it is handled very well i think. its not overdone. zoe and jamie have short, simple exit scenes that still manage to be really gutting. it’s a regen episode it’ll obviously be sad but that being said it’s probably one of the most upsetting regen stories because usually a regeneration is more or less intentional and intentionally given as a heroic act. and in the war games it’s more like he really thought he could survive right until the very end and he kept trying and kept trying to find a way out while sort of knowing in the back of his mind there wasn’t one, and then he just couldn’t. which is rough and it’s done so so well and so effectively

the costume design is banger and the doctor and jamie do a fun little bit where they pretend they have a magic trick but they actually just steal a guy’s gun and hold it on him so they can escape and it’s just so so so great. zoe smashes a vase on someone’s head

#as always i am fighting for this serial i think it’s the best on planet earth #doctor who #2 #my stuff

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herewegobacktomoon · 2 years

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mi dispiace, i have lots of question 🤧

3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 25, and 30 pleasseeee

Don't worry about it, I'm happy you asked ;)

3. I'm Italian

5. It's a little bit complicated, actually. Let's say I opened this account when I was 15 and it was one of the first time I went through some difficult things on my own, couldn't really talk about them with anyone since it was a lot and didn't want to burden them, so I opened this blog, with the idea of finally writing about it.

The name just came to me as I was thinking about something that gave me comfort, and I thought that if I could go to the moon and be away from everything, even for just one day, everything would be okay.

Basically, the moon is my clouds, I know it'll make sense to you.

6. Does overthinking count?😂

7. Yeah, I can play the piano and the guitar, and also started learning how to play the ukulele and the drums on my own, but very basic stuff on those ones😂

8. if by hobbies you mean stuff I really like doing, even when I'm clearly not good at it, a lot😂🙌🏼

Going to the gym is probably one of the most important rn, as well as soccer, but also going on walks is something I really enjoy.

Then there's art, music, cinema, and whatever makes me feel like I can express or understand myself a little bit better.

Also writing is pretty important to me, but it's more of a need than a hobby I guess.

9. I speak Italian, English, French and Spanish rn, but just because I attended a linguistic highschool😂🙌🏼

However, I'm currently working on Portuguese, cause I absolutely love it!

I'm also curious about every other language there is, even though I don't think I'll ever be able to learn all the ones I like😂

11. ahhh, hard question this one...

I have some but I'll try to stick to three.

Portrait of a lady on fire

La pazza gioia

Lazzaro Felice

(I'm suing you for this question, there's a whole list of movies currently angry at me :/ )

12. I'll be as cliche as possible with this one so...

The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo

16. Iceland and Canada.

18. you're really giving me a hard time here, hope you appreciate the effort though :)

I've been questioning myself about it for the last year and still I don't have an answer, but what I know for sure, after this year, is that doing something that only revolves "around me" is something I can't bring myself to bear.

I want to do a job where I can give effective help to people, not only with words or thoughts, I don't know if that makes sense.

What I'd really like to be able to do is work with disabled adults who are often left alone in communities or with children, who mainly are in the same situation.

Doesn't matter what I do for them or with them, I just want to give them a chance to tell their stories to someone.

19. One of my dream is to be able to go on a roadtrip, like a coast to coast or something like that, just driving across endlessly changing landscapes.

I know it's not very environment friendly, so I'll have to work on that aspect, but I've always loved the concept.

21. I don't really have any specific preference, not about physical aspects at least.

The traits in someone's personality that attract me the most are probably kindness and self confidence (don't ask me why, but to me, they're one of the sexiest thing to exist🙌🏼).

But it's not only that, as what I think is the most important thing is feeling some sort of connection.

22. Disloyal people and meanness

25. I don't really know if by games you meant physical ones or like board games (?), Btw almost everything that can make me have a nice fun time.

30. Apart from the comments people make and that I overthink about? 😂

No, I'm kidding, I don't really have specific quotes I think about, they're usually from lyrics or films and they depend on the time, but my mantra these last years has usually been "it is what it is".

I told you, I'm not original :(

Btw, I'm sorry for these answers, I might have overdone it and I'm really sorry about it, I swear :)

Anyway, if there's something else you want to ask me, you know you're always welcomed ;)

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lyricfulloflight · 2 years

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I keep getting these ideas for fun, hopefully not very long, Joe x Nicky fics. Except my brain, being it excellent self, refuses to fill in all the details, so whenever I think I might, you know, write some of it down, nothing happens.

So I’m putting my thoughts down here. Input from others is appreciated.

Idea #1

- Joe’s POV, modern AU

- Joe has been hired at this weird, but wonderful new ‘gym’ that focuses on medieval martial arts - sword play, archery, etc.

- all he knows about Nicky is little tidbits that other people say about him. Nicky is another member of staff but they work opposite shifts and have never met

-based on all these little bits of informations, Joe has decided that either a) Nicky is a fabrication his new friends have made up to fuck with him, or b) Nicky is a cryptid and/or possibly the man of his dreams

- at some point they meet, likely not at work so Joe genuinely has no idea who he is meeting, but Nicky is real and yes he likely is a bit of a cryptid and of course he’s perfect for Joe (this is where my brain stops working on specifics)

Idea #2

- Nicky’s POV, modern AU

- Nicky is some sort of hard working professional - I was originally thinking baker but then thought it might be too overdone, but it feels right anyway

- Nicky has never met Joe but one of his colleague’s is always talking about him. I think this person will be Nile... but then I worried she wasn’t a gossip-y sort of person and the premiss of this fic is really about gossip. But then Joe could be a minor Insta celebrity type Nile follows, as opposed to a close friend she is betraying through gossip... am I overthinking this??

- Anyway, Nicky learns everything he knows about Joe through hearing stories of all his disastrous dates

- one day Joe runs into Nicky’s little bakery to escape his current horrible date and they have a fluffy meet cute

#joe x nicky #fic ideas #lyric's brain needs help #writing is hard

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holydragon2808 · 3 years

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Thoughts On Dragon Age II after Replaying (Massive Spoilers)

Hello fellow DA fans! It's been quite some time since I last posted anything here on Tumblr. Hope everyone has been safe during all of the world's craziness. Figured I'd post something to let people know I'm still alive.

Anyway, DA2 was first released back in 2011. I was 20-21 years old at the time. Back then, while I still acknowledged the lack of genuine player agency with Hawke (in comparison to the Warden before them), I did belong in the camp of people believing that people went way overboard with the DA2 critiques regarding those complaints, at least back then.

Now though? After replaying the game again a decade or so later, and also in light of the Inquisitor and DAI, I now personally believe that Hawke's story stands out as (overall), all the more unbalanced in comparison to both the Warden and Inquisitor.

Massive Spoilers for the franchise abound beyond this point. Last warning.

Despite a lot of the old critiques leveled at DA2, it isn't a 100% terrible experience, and despite the oncoming rant, I do love the game overall.

Even though I've personally always thought that DA2 story was centered around tragedy a bit TOO much, in light of the growing franchise and the directional tone of the other protagonists thus far, it unfortunately stands out even more to me, and not in a good way.

A shame really because DA2 could have been a better and interesting contrast to DAO in tone and direction had it been more balanced with meaningful successes and failures for Hawke as a character rather than veering too far over into angst and tragedy.

For example, in DAO, your Warden character is railroaded into success against the Blight no matter what. Regardless of the origin, regardless of what sort of allies you acquire, no matter if you live or die in the end or which warden gets the final blow, you succeed.

This sort of narrative framing gave the writers a much easier way to balance genuine tragedy and success throughout the journey without veering too far in one direction or the other, and also without making nearly everything the player does seem like an exercise in futility.

In other words, there were failures and successes more properly balanced throughout, from experiencing meaningful failures and heartache during the chosen origin stories, to failure at Ostagar, to having more balance with the party members and their struggles (they weren't too boring or too dysfunctional), romances that stood out as a light for the Warden amidst all the fighting and death and their massive burden, to succeeding with building the army to take on the Darkspawn, to potential personal sacrifice to save the world and so on.

The option to play a more tragic, angsty or "evil" character who alienates everyone around them and then ultimately dies in the end is there too. The point is that the game largely gave the player the reins and let THEM decide what sort of story they were interested in shaping within the confines of the narrative railroading.

This balance just isn't there with DA2 as the player progresses. Hawke is railroaded into failure in almost every way from start to finish, whether in their personal life or with the massive political struggles in Kirkwall.

I'm sure most people would have been fine with the main plot between the mages/Templars spiraling out of their control in the end (thanks Anders), the Qunari rampaging no matter what, and even the Hawke family being forcefully separated as the story progressed.

However, to me some of the railroaded bleak tragedy should have been offset by Hawke (and by extension the player) at least having the OPTION of being able to keep their family alive.

I'm fine with the tragedy of losing the whole family being ONE POSSIBLE option in the game, but when this tragedy along with the main plot failures, the dysfunctional party members that are too problematic to help ease Hawke's burdens (in fact, they all add to Hawke's worries, which if Inquisition shows anything, that it finally takes its toll on Hawke) is THE ONE AND ONLY OPTION in light of everything else wrong in Kirkwall, then that's a potential writing issue and could potentially alienate the player more than make them care about anything that happens and wonder why they aren't given the option to just nope out and leave Kirkwall to its fate.

Tragedy can be fine, don't get me wrong, but not everyone wants to role play a COMPLETE AND UTTER tragedy from start to finish with no option to deviate in any way from that narrative. Options in the way people progress (especially where people can break the story down and see the holes in the narrative where it COULD have possible but just wasn't allowed), should be presented in a ROLE PLAYING game.

I personally find it more realistic and relatable when a character experiences a nice blend of both MEANINGFUL success and failure. However, the writers seemed intent on railroading Hawke into just being at the mercy of the main plot with little to no agency.

In stark contrast to DAO, planning for the entire story in DA2 (or just in an RPG period) to end in failure no matter the player choices is already a bold enough risk on its own. It can definitely work with the proper balance of both positive and negative experiences along the way though in both the political and personal aspects of the player characters life, to keep the player actively engaged in a way that doesn't leave them thinking that their presence in the story amounts to little more than the equivalent of holding a book and simply turning the page rather than actively doing something.

But combining an already planned bleak ending with a very corrupt setting where the leaders on all sides are either completely moronic or passive, party members where the majority of them have too many burdens of their own to give Hawke a genuine sense of a reprieve from the madness even if romancing one of them (except for Varric, Aveline, and Bethany, if alive, everyone else is either a whiner or dysfunctional. It's very telling that Hawke's PET DOG gets more no strings attached visits from the party members than Hawke does. Just saying), railroading Hawke to lose the majority of their family in some way, AND having what little success and influence Hawke DOES acquire to come back and bite them in the ass in the end (Hawke struck it rich and became Champion of Kirkwall?! Awesome!.....right up until its revealed the red lyrium idol they found in the deep roads played a part in screwing up everything), then at that point, a serious argument can be made that the writers veered far too heavily into tragic overdone melodrama for some people.

How cool would it have been to be able to leave the game with "Well, okay, I couldn't do anything about the corruption in Kirkwall or the mage/Templar tensions spiraling out of control, but at least my whole family is alive and well"? There could have even been an achievement/trophy for this very outcome called "The pride of the Hawkes" or something.

Just one possible example of how the railroaded political failures could have been offset by giving Hawke, (and by extension the player), the OPTION for personal success in a more meaningful way. The option for extreme tragedy with some or even all of the Hawkes dying can still be there of course for people who want that degree of angst, but again having multiple OPTIONS is more likely to accommodate more people and their preferred play styles or stories, and thus, give more reasons to play the game multiple times.

As it stands now, sure, Hawke can save the life of one sibling, but they're still railroaded into losing one of them before the prologue is over, the other is either killed by the Blight or forced from their side in act 1 because the game said so, and the mother is forced to die in the most shock value induced way possible (nevermind not even being able to warn Leandra in act one or follow up on this quest until it's too late in act two or the guards and Templars being forcefully incompetent for this to play out like the writers want).

Those have just been my thoughts as of late. Some people argue that in a way, this is the entire point of the game. That sometimes only REALLY crappy choices exist and there may not be a third option. I agree with that to a point.

But "there might not be" and "there NEVER is" an option for an ideal third way are two very different things and IMO, DA2 suffered in veering far too heavily in the direction of the latter, often being too focused on heartbreak and shock value (looking at you "All That Remains") to really work as well as it could have.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts a decade later. Make no mistake, I still love DA2 for what it is, love the general concept and idea of DA2, just not the execution. It's just sad to me that this game could have been so much better with more development time, more options to shape Hawke's story on a more personal level (whether with an ideal outcome of everyone in the family living, or a semi tragic one where some can die depending on choices, or everyone dying), and not being railroaded into tragedy to nearly nigh ridiculous levels to the point where a giant spider nightmare residing in the Fade in a whole other game mocks Hawke for their "failure is the only option" status.

And just to further clarify my point here, true, Kirkwall was a ticking time bomb with or without Hawke being there. They made the tensions between the two factions apparent as far back as DAO. A Mage/Templar war was all but inevitable, as was Anders eventually losing himself to Justice/Vengeance and after exhausting all peaceful options, finally doing the unthinkable and "forcing everyone to choose a side". That part was fine. And it makes sense for this part of the story to remain static and unchanged no matter what (as I said before, the issue isn't necessarily that DA2 had a planned tragic ending or was framed as a set story within a story).

The issue is that, at the end of the day, regardless of whether this is framed as a recounting of events already played out, Bioware still chose to present this part of the story to the world as an RPG, not a novel. It's just too easy to pick apart the current execution of the narrative and find too many holes and inconsistencies, far too easy to see that Bioware wanted tragedy and completely railroaded the player into it regardless of whether or not it made sense to do so at times. Part of it is definitely that it was rushed, but not all of it.

" Genuine inevitable tragedy" (example: the mage/Templar rebellion) and "railroaded and just never given the option to question/change anything because the game/developers said so but still forcefully insisting and trying to frame it as an inevitable tragedy" are two very different things (outright confirming in Act 1 that the remains of the serial killer's vicitms did indeed belong to one of the missing women (Ninette's wedding ring) and he gave them white lilies but conveniently never given the option to bring any of this up to the guards/Templars or pursue the quest or warn Leandra until it's far too late). Leandra's death isn't the only example of this problem, but it definitely is one of the most prominent and IMO, takes away from the intended story of a good woman who met a bad end with their oldest son/daughter being unable to prevent it when the game failed to let them (and by extension the player) truly try.

DA2 could have been a great contrast to DAO. Rather than having the influence to shape the fate of the world like the Warden and succeed in their goal, they could have compromised in DA2 with having the fallout of the Kirkwall Chantry destruction and the rebellion still happening no matter what (i.e. Hawke "failing" to stop any of the madness and still ultimately forced to flee Kirkwall in the end after finally dragging the Amell line back into prominence) but still given the player the option to save their immediate family members across the story if certain choices were made throughout. I'm sure most people would have been fine with a more "bittersweet" option being presented for Hawke, (and by extension the player) in the game, especially where again, one can pick apart the narrative and see where it could have been an option, but just wasn't allowed for no other reason than seemingly because of the "True art is angsty" trope.

Bioware could still have their own canon (similarly to how Alistair is shown to be king in their canon no matter what as an example) of the ultimate tragedy if they wanted, but again, DA2 is still an RPG where players expect to have more meaningful choices reflected in how they progress, even with an inescapable darker and downer ending.

Complete and utter tragedy is fine, but I just don't think it was the best decision to have it as THE ONLY option in an RPG.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #marian hawke #garrett hawke #bethany hawke #varric tethras #leandra amell #leandra hawke #da inquisition #dragon age #carver hawke #dai

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not-wholly-unheroic · 4 years

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Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

#peter pan disney #disney peter pan #captain hook disney #disney captain hook #disney #disney villains #captain hook #james hook #captain james hook

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 4 years

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Downton’s Easy Company - Chapter 16

A Band of Brothers x Downton Abbey Crossover

Summary: The new generation of Downton is taking over, but just as the second world war is raging across Europe. On a cool London night, the children of the Crawleys meet the boys of the American 101st Airborne. Worlds collide and hearts are on the line.

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @purplelavalamp, @johnny-martin-is-mypeanut, @the-disassembled-boy, @tvserie-s-world, @50svibes, @cherriesx, @incognito-princess, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant, @claire-bear-1218, @goingmyway, @marv-llous, @foalystechcrew, @mother-dearest-loves-me, @dench1992, @neverendingstories00, @greenmonkeyfish, @grumpablebutloveable, @lilaxdream @iilovemusic12us If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I hope you enjoy this update! There’s a lot of letters, but I figured they were the best way to show the time passing while they’re separated, so I hope that comes across to everyone :)

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

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Chapter 16 here we go!!!

Dear George,

I’m so relieved you’re back in England. Let us know when you have some leave so we can prepare for you here at home. We miss you a great deal.

Katrine seems sweet enough, though she is rather private. Her boy has made himself quite comfortable, especially with Mama and Papa. We offered to hire a nanny, but Katrine wouldn’t hear of it. It seems an odd way to raise a child to me, but I suppose it comes from her own upbringing.

You’re right about the boy being bright. Papa and I have taken initiative and are looking into some schools close by. He’s too young to enroll just yet, but we had a tutor evaluate him, and the report was quite promising.

I do wish you’d tell me how you came by these two. I know you said they helped you when you were trapped in Holland, but I’d like the full story. Perhaps when you come home next, you and I can have a long discussion about it, and the possibilities for the Mondeels here in Yorkshire.

On an unrelated note, have you heard anything from Caroline? We haven’t seen her since before Christmas, and she has not been answering my letters. Have we done something to upset her? If you have any information, do share.

I hope you’re well, my darling.

Love,

Mother.

***

Dear Ron,

I can’t tell you how good it was to hear from you after all those weeks of silence. I’m also glad you’re out of danger (mostly) and can correspond again. I’ve missed you, as weak as it sounds to admit it.

Baby and I are doing just fine. I am starting to show more now. So much so that I’m finally making use of the maternity clothes Victoria brought me. I’ve had them tailored so that they’re more modern - not that fashion matters much in times like this - but it does make me feel better.

I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t been in touch with my family. Just Marigold, Sybbie, Victoria, and George. There isn’t much to tell them except the one thing I know I can’t tell them. As I told you, it doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you put in a letter. Do you think I should grit my teeth and bear it? Or can I put it off a little longer? I’m really beginning to miss my mother, whose presence would be much appreciated by her frightened daughter.

I must make another admission. I am scared of this. Of the birth, yes, but mostly what comes after. We are going to be responsible for a life. It’s completely overwhelming. Not that I want to bog you down, you’ve got plenty to worry about where you are, but do you ever think of such things? How do you feel about a nanny? I had one growing up, but I understand you likely did not. Was it helpful to you? There’s so much to consider.

I’m also trying to come up with names. I like plenty of boy’s names, but I am starting to wonder if we should have a girl name picked out as well, just in case. I really do think it’s a boy, but one can never be too prepared.

Here are the names I like so far:

Robert (after my grandfather)

Phillip

Theodore (Ted for short)

Wesley

Charles

Let me know your opinion on these. Keep in mind, his middle name should be Ronald, after you, as is tradition. Do you do that in America?

If you’ve got any girl names, send them along. I really do think we should decide on one of each.

Be careful, love.

Your Caroline

***

Caroline,

Glad everything’s alright. I’m doing fine. I’d tell you more details, but they’d be redacted anyway, so what’s the point?

You tell your family only when you’re ready. Don’t worry about them. Focus on staying healthy. That’s the only priority right now. If you really need your mom, reach out. She might not like it, but she is still your mother.

Nobody’s ever really ready for parenthood. Just remember that we are adults and it’s a baby. It doesn’t know how to do anything. We can handle this.

I did not have a nanny, but depending on how the war goes, you might need the help. Let’s play that one by ear. Don’t overthink it.

Girls' names are irrelevant, we’re not having a girl.

As for the names you’ve chosen, here are my thoughts.

Robert is a no go. That’s Colonel Sink’s name and I don’t want to give him a big head.

Phillip is a possibility.

No to Theodore/Ted. Much too old sounding.

Wesley can stay in the running.

I don’t like Charles.

Now, for your consideration, here are names that I like:

James

Thomas

Leo

Haven’t been able to think of much more. But let me know what you think.

Ron

***

Ron,

You are truly a stubborn arse. All the more shame on me for falling for you, I suppose.

In spite of all that, I thank you for your reassurance. I will wait some more before telling my family. Marigold and Victoria are doing a very good job of caring for me.

If you refuse to acknowledge the possibility of a girl, I will simply choose a name myself and you will just have to live with it. I like Violet, after my great-grandmother.

As for the boy names you picked out, I have to say no to Thomas. My uncle is Tom Branson, and then we have our butler Thomas Barrow, and I should hate for our child’s name to be confused with those two. I don’t mean that in a bad way, they’re two of my favorite people, but to have three Tom/Thomas’s in my heart would only get confusing.

The other two names I very much like. So our list is now down to:

Phillip

Wesley

James

Leo

(and Violet)

We can narrow it down further at a later date. I’m afraid I have to cut this letter short as I have a doctor’s appointment.

Stay safe, love.

Your Caroline

Speirs wrinkled his nose at the latest letter. It may have also been because of the dank smell of Haguenau, but he preferred to blame Caroline. Truly, he was fond of the final list of names. He stared at the last one that she scratched out and turned it over in his mind.

“Violet?” he murmured.

“Sir?” questioned Lipton from his spot on the couch.

Speirs looked at the sergeant. “What do you think of the name Violet?”

Lipton’s brow furrowed. Before he could answer, he coughed, a small rattle still in his chest, though he was doing much better than before.

“Violet?” he asked. “For what, like a cat?”

“No, like a baby,” Speirs said.

He still had not told any of his men about Caroline’s pregnancy. He considered telling Lipton now, just to have someone around he could consult on these matters, but thought better of it. Enough people knew as it was and Caroline was not around to give her permission.

“Ah, I see,” Lip replied. “I think it’s sweet. Traditional, but not overdone.”

Speirs was surprised that Lip did not challenge a baby name inquiry at a time like this. That was Lip, though. All support, no questions asked. Speirs took a deep breath.

“What do you think of Phillip?”

***

Dear Joe,

I hope I haven’t offended you somehow. It’s been weeks with no word from you. And the girls have received letters from others in your company, so I can’t help feeling like it’s personal. If something has changed between us, I hope you will share that with me. Just give me some clarity, please.

Love,

Victoria

Joe sighed, struggling to put the letter into his pocket with the truck rocking through the countryside. Eventually, he tucked it away and buttoned his pocket over it. Webster watched Joe with keen interest. Especially since Joe’s face looked so pained as he read.

“Everything alright?” Webster asked.

“What’s it to you?” Joe returned.

Webster shrugged. “Alright, I’ll mind my business.”

He returned to his journal. Joe chewed his cheek and glowered out at the scenery.

“It’s Victoria,” he admitted.

He needed to talk to someone about it. Why not Web?

Webster looked up curiously. “What about her?”

“I think I gotta break up with her,” Joe said. “We’re just...too different.”

“Is that so bad?” Webster wondered. “Maybe you can balance each other out.”

“Nah, I think we want different things,” Joe insisted. “I love the girl, but I can’t ask her to give up everything for me, y’know?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the situation,” Webster said. “But I understand what you’re saying. Either way you go, one of you will be making a huge sacrifice. What you have to decide is if it’s worth it.”

Joe heaved another sigh. “I don’t know…”

“I think you have your answer then,” Webster said.

With that, he started writing again and left Joe to his thoughts. Joe considered that. He wasn’t totally sure about Victoria. If he was, shouldn’t he be willing to sacrifice? But he thought of her sweet smile and the tenderness of her heart, and he felt weak. He was lucky Victoria wanted to be with him, wanted to compromise with him. He had to think about it some more. He needed to decide what he really wanted out of life. But what were the possibilities? They were heading into Germany, but the war was not over yet.

***

Dear Dick,

Paris is settling down and beginning to feel like the place I left years ago. It’s been fun to take Victoria and Caroline around. Caroline is getting bigger every day it seems, but she’s very healthy. Incredibly, I felt the child kick, and I daresay it made me rather emotional. I feel my cousin is hardly out of her own childhood, and now she is bringing new life into the world.

It reminds me of my own mother. I wish I could confide this in Caroline, but I feel it isn’t really my story to tell. I’m a key player in it, of course, but obviously my mother’s privacy comes first. Thank you again for your own discretion.

Seeing Caroline become a mother has also put thoughts of my own future into perspective. After everything I’ve been through, I want very much to live simply. Because of my parentage, I can never really belong in the world my family exists in. I don’t think it’s what I want anyway. I just want a peaceful, quiet place to raise a family and perhaps write a novel. How do you picture your life after the war? I don’t believe we’ve discussed it before. I do hope I am somewhere in your imaginings. You are certainly in mine.

You are also in my thoughts and prayers. Do take care of yourself.

Love,

Marigold

Dick read over Marigold’s words, touched. She said exactly the things he was hoping she would. They were heading in the same direction, with the same goals. It was a relief to him. It was easy to picture Marigold as his wife, at his side. He admired her, respected her, and loved her.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Nixon teased.

Dick shook his head. “Nothing. Just something nice Marigold wrote.”

“Oh?” Nix returned, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I think it’s time to talk about something more serious between us.”

Nix smirked. “Should I say congratulations now or wait until after the ceremony?”

Dick rolled his eyes.

***

Dear Marigold,

It might sound silly, but I made a promise to myself after D-Day that should I survive the war, I’d find myself somewhere quiet to live out my life in peace. And you are absolutely a part of that picture. You have belonged there since that fateful day in the elevator.

I’m glad to hear Caroline is doing alright with the baby. I would like to check on Speirs, but it feels like an awkward thing to ask about. So I’m afraid I don’t have any updates on him, though I’m sure he’s in contact with Caroline.

Germany is surprisingly nice. Maybe it’s the warm weather or the lack of artillery, but we’re enjoying it here. The war should be over soon. So I’m happy to begin planning that future with you if that’s what you want. That obviously includes an offer I’d rather make in person, and we can have that conversation the next time I see you. Hopefully, that won’t be too long.

I love you and miss you.

Yours,

Dick

***

Dear Gene,

Bill and Joe are doing alright. They’ll be heading home soon, and selfish as it is, I will miss them terribly. They’re truly the most entertaining patients I’ve ever had, especially Bill. But of course you’re familiar with his personality.

I hope I’m able to get to Paris soon to be with Caroline. She has asked me to be there to be an advocate for her for something big coming up. Really big. I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly what it is, as it’s just a bit scandalous. But she’s made some wishes known to me. That sounds ominous, but everything is going well so far.

I hope you’re doing well. With spring’s arrival, there must be a bit of a reprieve if you’re outdoors. Do you have a comfortable place to sleep at least? Lord knows you and your men have earned it.

As for myself, I’ve applied to a university in Dublin, to attend in the fall (if the war is over, and it looks like it may be soon). I think it’s high time I experienced my Irish heritage and I want more for myself. I love being a nurse, but I want to explore all my options. I haven’t told anyone in the family yet. I’m going to Downton soon and will talk it over with George (he’s home on leave), but I wanted to tell you first. I could use additional hopes for my acceptance.

Look after yourself. Get some rest. Don’t forget to eat.

All my love,

Sybbie

Eugene tried not to be dismayed at the news. He wanted Sybbie to do what was best for her, but it dashed his hopes of asking her to come back to Louisiana with him. Not permanently - at least not right away - but to see a bit of his world. The way he had seen hers at Downton Abbey. He supposed it was still possible, but there was no guarantee of when the war would be over and their timeframe depended entirely on that.

Even if she was able to visit, how could they progress together - if that was even what they were - with her in Dublin and him at home? He tried to picture himself staying in Europe, but he hated the idea. He missed home too much. He did not feel he belonged in Europe, nor did he particularly want to. For the first time, they weren’t on the same page.

***

Dear Sybbie,

Thanks for all the updates on Guarnere and Toye. We’re all worried about them, and your letters put our minds at ease. I know those two appreciated your help too, and they’ll miss you back in the states.

It sounds awfully suspicious about Caroline. I trust you though. And she must too if she’s asking you to join her in Paris.

Good news, I am sleeping in a bed most nights. You’re so sweet to worry about things like that for me.

I’m proud of you for taking a chance and applying to school. Not a lot of girls have the courage to do that, even if they want to. But you’re spirited enough. I have no doubt you’ll get in. You’re a brilliant nurse, and even if you aren’t accepted, you’ll have a great career ahead of you.

You should tell your father you applied. I think it’ll make him really happy that you’re interested in Ireland. And you’ll have his hopes in your corner as well.

I know it’s unlikely, but I hope I’ll get to see you before you go.

Take care of yourself,

Eugene

***

Dear Caroline,

I’m home again on leave, and I still haven’t confessed my feelings to Kat or to Mother. Do you think me a dreadful coward? I’m beginning to think it of myself. In fairness, Mother hardly lets me alone when I’m at home, so Kat and I barely get time together for me to be able to have any sort of real discussion with her. I have bought a ring, though, and enclosed the catalog I purchased it from for your approval. You have very fine taste, and I trust you.

How are you doing? The arrival should be soon, right? Spring is fully upon us now - truly a good time for welcoming something new. I hope it all goes smoothly and you come out of it feeling as strong as I know you to be. I’m looking forward to your return to Downton.

Stay safe.

Your brother,

George

Caroline rubbed her swollen belly as she read George’s letter, her back aching. Her cousins were around her, Sybbie finally having arrived at last. The baby was due soon. May snuck up on her so quickly, she wondered where the time went. Nerves began to eat at her the closer she got, especially since she still had not told the rest of the family. She took Ron’s words to heart. She would only tell them when she was good and ready.

She decided also to get the birth over with before telling them. Perhaps they would be charmed by how cute it would be - which she was certain of - and would be more forgiving. It was always harder to be honest to someone’s face, especially a baby’s, and Caroline was banking on that. Plus, she wanted to arrange for George to be with her when she told them. She hoped he would wait on proposing to Kat. The ring he chose was stunning, and she made a mental note to tell him so.

On the morning of May 8, Caroline enjoyed breakfast with Sybbie and Victoria while Marigold went down to get a newspaper. Caroline sipped her tea and hoped there would be some good news at last.

“Why don’t you just turn on the radio?” Victoria wondered.

“Because it’s ghastly noise,” Caroline said. “Mornings are meant for quietly reading the newspaper like sensible people.”

Victoria laughed and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, Marigold burst into the room, looking winded and completely shell shocked. She’d clearly run all the way up from the lobby.

“Goodness, Marigold, what is it?” Sybbie asked.

“The war is over,” Marigold blurted out, holding out the day’s newspaper.

They all saw the VE-Day headline, though they couldn’t quite believe it. After all these years at war, it had become the new normal. The send offs, the letters, the telegrams, the sleepless nights. It was all over. No more fighting. No more death. No more.

“Good God in heaven,” Caroline breathed out. “Can it really be true?”

“It’s right there in black and white,” Marigold said, staring at the paper as if it were a bomb that might take her hand off any second.

They all feared this was a dream they might wake up from. Slowly, Sybbie rose from her chair, tears filling her eyes. She gazed at each of her cousins, who she truly regarded more as sisters now, and she reached for their hands. She took hold of Caroline’s, Caroline took hold of Victoria’s, Victoria took Marigold’s, and then Marigold and Sybbie completed the circle.

“We made it, girls,” Sybbie said. “And so did our men.”

Caroline blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. She took a deep breath and blinked the rest away.

“What are we blubbering about?” she joked. “This calls for a celebration! We should be ordering champagne not crying like babies!”

They all laughed and agreed, fighting the lumps in their throats and the mist in their eyes. And they did order champagne. Together, they shared a toast to the end of the war, and the start of their new lives.

***

Dear Marigold,

I’ve talked things over with Colonel Sink, and he’s agreed to have you all join us in Zell am Zee, Austria. Our lodgings will suit you well, I think. Plus, I know Ron is anxious to be present when Caroline gives birth. Hopefully, it hasn’t already happened. If you can clear it with her doctor to travel, let me know when we can expect you.

Looking forward to your answer.

Yours,

Dick

#band of brothers #downton abbey #ron speirs #caroline talbot #dick winters #marigold crawley #sybbie branson #eugene roe #victoria aldridge #joe liebgott #Easy Company #downton's easy company series

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mcyt-kalopsia · 3 years

Text

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐'𝚜 𝚅𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗 - 𝟷𝟶𝟶 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

Theme: Technoblade is the king!!! This was just something I thought of while listening to my friend play the violin.

Characters: Technoblade, Dream, Wilbur, Tommy... I think that’s it.

Warnings: bit of language from Tommy at the end but I think that’s it! Lemme know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2774

A/N: listen I was super descriptive in the beginning and it dropped off at the end forgive meeee ;;; but also enjoy!

It had taken Technoblade a while to get accustomed to living in the Overworld, but even longer to get accustomed to being a king. Thoughts of being back home often plagued his mind, regardless of where home really was. This - the castle full of echoing hallways and paintings that did no sort of talking back - was not it. Maybe home was back with the piglins in the Nether, or maybe it was in the little cottage that was essentially just a shell now… but again, it wasn’t in the castle.

The hybrid’s days consisted of small-talk with aforementioned unresponsive paintings, practicing his archery out in the area he’d designated for such sport, accidentally making promises he couldn’t keep to the people under his rule, and playing the violin with what little spare time he had left after anything else unmentioned. He enjoyed the violin, and at the very least he was glad that the castle was good for carrying the sound.

Sometimes, Wilbur came to visit and would bring his guitar. They would play music with each other until one or the other was dragged back to their duties. Wilbur was free in Techno’s eyes, but Wilbur in his own eyes was almost literally shackled to the life he had made for himself and couldn’t seem to change. Life was just cruel, and the two of them knew that stopping it was out of the question, lest they be punished further.

Tommy was another story. Tommy led his days with as much joy as he could, which made appearances at the castle even more scarce than Wilbur’s. When he did visit, the entire castle almost seemed more like home. On more than one occasion, Techno would offer Tommy residence in the space, but it was always turned down. It was understandable, really, but Techno would offer each visit anyway.

As for Phil… well, he would send letters, but that was all that Techno got from his father. Any family further than immediate wasn’t big on communicating with him either, and they normally only reached out when they needed something from him. Talk was talk to him though, and whatever they needed was swiftly provided albeit how out of greed the communication was.

“Your Majesty,” The advisor spoke softly from the doorway to the king’s chambers, startling the half-piglin from his thoughts. The pink-haired male looked over to the source of the voice, giving a soft smile in his direction. “A letter from your father.” To prove this, he held up a neatly sealed envelope, the crest on the wax the same as it had been when Phil himself was king. Techno waved the other male in to set it at the desk.

“Anything from Tommy or Wilbur recently?” Techno moved his braid to lay against his back, looking up at the elder, who shook his head. “I see. I suppose I'll have to write something to them. Tommy’s birthday is soon, so I figured I could round the two up here and make a day of it.” Smiling fondly, he moves his inkwell closer to him.

“That’s a wonderful idea, I just hope that there’s not too much trouble involved.” The older man waves a finger as he places the envelope of well-wishes on the desk.

“Ever since becoming king, there’s never been a day of trouble. It’s quite exhausting knowing that I had to grow up so quickly,” Techno bites back bitterly. He missed the days when he was uncaged and hardly had a responsibility to name. Now here he was, sole ruler of a kingdom he hadn’t given a second thought back when he was younger.

For a while, his royal advisor stayed quiet. Though he didn’t enjoy the attitude from the king, he understood that the younger male had been forced to rule and wasn’t really here voluntarily. He did note, however, that for someone who had been left the kingdom unwillingly, he did a fine job of ruling it. “Also, the invitations have been sent out, your Majesty.”

Right. Invitations. Damnit. “I wish you could have just forgotten about the whole thing,” Techno complained, dipping his pen into the ink and putting the end to the paper. He loved to write letters, they were his favourite. He was rather proud of his penmanship, so that made them all the easier for him. Then again… how would he write it? He didn’t want to be too formal, since these were for his brothers, but he had to keep some kind of proper to his words. He’d fallen so far out of it with his brothers that he didn’t know how to talk to them anymore, and he felt pretty pathetic for it.

He ended up thinking so long about it that it left a puddle of ink in the middle of the paper. Now he needed a new paper.

“I told you that I would hold you to it, so I simply made and handed out the invitations by myself.” The advisor chuckles softly, letting a hand rest on Techno’s shoulder, before he exits the room and leaves Techno to his thoughts again. Once Techno got a different paper, he slowly started writing how he thought it would sound best, although it sounded awkward. He hadn’t intended on it being awkward really, but it came out that way and he figured it sounded best like he would sound around his brothers. He made a separate one for the other, then sealed them both up, after neatly and precisely folding them to nestle into the envelopes with no issue.

He was starting to think a lot about those invitations. It felt sort of like a betrayal, having the advisor do all of that without notice after Techno made wise cracks about having a royal ball to find someone to marry and have rule alongside him. It felt too cliche, like it had been done one too many times before. He knew he’d heard about other kingdoms doing the same thing, and it just felt… overdone. It didn't matter too much, since he figured he wouldn’t find someone he would like right off the bat, but it still bothered him that he hadn’t been informed of the finalcy of actual planning.

Techno looked over to the envelope from his father, the seal a bright blue in contrast to the dark red that Techno used when sealing his own envelopes. He couldn’t remember off the top of his head which kingdom usually used blue for their seals, but Techno figured that’s where Phil was at the time of writing the letter and sending it off. He picked the envelope up and examined it, then carefully opened it to retrieve the letter from inside. He put down the envelope and unfolded the letter, reading the words until his eyes went blurry.

Dear Techno,

I was surprised to see when young women started receiving invitations here and in other areas, and even more surprised to find it was from you. Or, well, the advisor! I figured he’d be retired by now, but when I saw him here, I obviously had to ask about him, and you.

I know how you’re feeling about this whole thing - trust me, I do. Just know that I gave one female in particular an invitation. I’m not telling you who, but I promise that you’re very likely to be interested in getting to know her!

Besides this whole ball situation, I hope you’ve been well and not giving your brothers too much grief when they stop by. I worry about you three a lot, so it would be nice if you could all see each other and get along more often. If you three manage to meet up for Tommy’s birthday or plan to, let me know beforehand so I can possibly show up as well.

We miss you, Techno.

- Dad

After Techno had taken in all of the information and wishes of wellness, his first initial thought was, ‘of course he would say he might be able to show up’. Though not meant in a bitter way, it came out bitter. He had his reasons for bitterness, though. Almost every letter he receives from Phil has some version of the same line, but never once had the older male appeared. Sure, there were times when Phil was busy, but Techno knew he wasn’t busy all the time. No one person could be busy all the time. Not even him, and he was ruling an entire kingdom.

There came a sharp knocking on the doorframe, so Techno turned in his seat. Dream stood there, adorned in his usual attire of light armour and emerald-coloured clothing underneath, with the additional smirk on his lips. “Your Majesty,” He said dramatically, bowing as far as he could, then straightening back up.

“You could have warned me of your arrival, so maybe then I could evacuate,” Techno replied jokingly, motioning with one hand to enter the room. Dream strode in, looking around. “So, what brings you here? How’s living out in the forests going for you and your friends?”

Dream shrugged his shoulders, sitting at the edge of the king’s bed and sighing. “Well, living out there has been great, although Sapnap and George could always use a little separation since they argue a lot.” He laughed quietly, a small smile replacing earlier’s smirk. “They’re both great though. I couldn’t be happier in this life.”

Dream’s wording sounded a bit weird to Techno, but he didn’t ask questions. “Anyway, why are you here?”

“Oh!” The green-donned male went through his bag and fished out an apple - a golden one, the colour shining where the light from the window hit it - and set it on the desk that the king still sat at. “This is for you. You know how hard those are to get, so be grateful.”

“If I accept this, will I be indebted to you?”

“No, of course not! It’s just a friendly gesture, since you’ve been so much help to me in the past. Just keep it, okay? I have to go.” Dream patted Techno’s shoulder, then quickly made his way out of the room. Techno was alone once more.

Putting the apple with the rest of the golden apples in his collection, he let out a heavy sigh and looked to the clock. It was already past noon. Lunch would be soon, but Techno’s appetite had left long ago, so he figured he could skip it. Lunch was a rather unimportant meal in his day, and he wanted to replace that time with something more fun.

Finally, he stood, looking toward the violin case that rested on the window seat. A little bit more practice couldn’t hurt.

The sun had set in the distance, sinking below the horizon and giving way to the night in it’s dark glory, stars covering the blanketed sky and twinkling in such a familiar way that Techno could have sworn they felt like friends. The stars had seen every bit of his life in the Overworld, and had never said a harsh word or judged him based on what he did and didn’t do. Although he had friends that spoke to him sometimes, they weren’t the same. Stars were judgement-free. Stars were always there for him, even if he couldn’t see them.

He sat on the balcony leading to his chambers, looking up into the star-speckled sky, thinking about the events of the day. After that bit more of violin practice, he had been forced to eat even a little, then was sent out to talk to some of the people in the kingdom. Though mostly uneventful, the day had been sprinkled with some interesting events.

He had seen a child dressed in a miniature-sized cape that resembled his own, with a blue painted cardboard sword and a crown of the same material, who said he wanted to be like Techno when he grew up. The king had stayed to talk with the little boy for a bit longer, before his father came out to get him for dinner.

He’d also seen a proposal right in the square, which he had congratulated after the ‘yes’. He didn’t really see the appeal of love and marriage, but they were happy, and that was enough for him. He still didn’t see him getting into a relationship of such a kind in the future, though.

He got up from the balcony’s bench, then went back inside. The day had worn him out thoroughly, so he was ready for it to be over finally. He changed into his nightclothes, putting the ones from the day into a basket near his door for collection. He had insisted on doing his own laundry in the past, but the staff would have him do no such thing. Sometimes, though, Techno was able to do it in secret. He wanted some semblance to his old life, even if it meant sneaking around to do his own laundry once in a great while.

Techno made his way over to his bed while undoing his braid, a soft yawn escaping his mouth before he finally settled in for the night. It didn’t take long for the room to go quiet, save for the soft snoring of the king as he slept.

Morning crept it’s way slowly into the window, the light filtering through the curtains and painting the large room in a warm glow. The sunlight left even the sleeping king in a heavenly glow, and slowly his ruby eyes fluttered open. Sitting up, Techno rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes, then stretched his arms high above his head. There was faint birdsong from outside, and it was a comfort in the loneliness that was the castle.

The half-piglin threw the covers off, then stepped out of bed and stretched again, before heading to the wardrobe and choosing an outfit for the day. Most of said wardrobe consisted of ruffled shirts and black pants, which was only a slight upgrade from what he wore back before his ruling, as well as a couple of nice jackets that he saved for colder weather. After putting his sleeping clothes into the basket, he runs a brush through his long, pink hair, putting it up into the usual braid. His mind was still too sleep-clouded to make a coherent thought, so he made his way to the dining room, the smell of breakfast like a lure to his grumbling stomach.

“Good morning, your Majesty.” The main chef pulls the male’s chair out, setting a plate of food in front of him. “I hope you slept well.” The woman leaves a gentle pat on Techno’s forearm, then scurries back to the kitchen. Techno picks up his fork and knife, working on cleaning off the plate so he could go start on the day’s activities.

Once he finishes his breakfast, he pops into the kitchen to thank all the chefs, then grabs his bow and shoulder bag with his arrows, striding toward the part of the yard with the targets laid out. His mind had become clear, the tired grey clouds having gone when he was eating.

He took a stance a handful of feet away from one of the targets, pulling an arrow from the back and knocking it. He pulled back the string with the arrow, lining it up to hopefully get a bullseye. Letting go, he watched the arrow miss the middle and hit the second outermost circle. Something was on his mind, and that made focusing on the target a bit more difficult. Maybe… maybe the ball was a bigger deal to him than he thought.

“You’ve gotten rusty, Techno!” A hand comes down on his shoulder, causing him to jump and look over. It was Wilbur! “Woah, man. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughs, then gives his brother a side hug. Suddenly, every other thought vanishes, and things feel a lot lighter.

“I didn’t think you would actually come here.” Techno gives a half-smile, patting Wilbur’s back. Suddenly, another familiar voice rings out.

“I’m here too, fuckhead! Wilbur just needs to learn how to wait up.” Tommy bounds up to the two, grinning from ear to ear and making everything even brighter. If Techno was being honest, this was the first time the three of them had been together since the crowning.

#mcyt writing #dsmp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #technoblade writing #techno

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illfoandillfie · 5 years

Text

5 Simple Rules for a Successful Fake Relationship: One Small Hitch

READ PART 1

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

summery: You and Ben have your first official date and settle into your "relationship". But, with filming coming to a close, you'll need to be more committed to the act than before, especially when Ben's keeping secrets.

Warnings: Again, nothing much. Some language. Drinking. Nothing else I can think of.

Words: 8355

AN: Chapter 2 is finally here! Sorry for the delay but hopefully the next part will be up faster. I'm really really enjoying writing this series and I am so very excited about what's coming! The song mentioned is Reckless Serenade by Arctic Monkeys. Sidenote: Can anyone work out the theme of the chapter titles?

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

“I’ve got something for you,” you half shouted at Ben when you saw him walking towards you from across the field you were filming in. You shuffled your shitty takeaway coffee into your other hand so you could reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper folded in half. He took it and pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Funny cause I have something for you too,” Ben said as he let you go, reaching into his backpack and handing you a magazine, “Oh, shit, it’s our rules. You want page 15 by the way.” “Figured you’d want a record of them. What exactly am I looking f-” you let the word hang as you found the right page. It was decorated with a photo of you and Ben kissing on his doorstep, his hand around your back, the shirt you’d borrowed riding up just enough that it was clear you didn’t have shorts on underneath as you clutched at him. There was some text beside it, mentions of your most notable roles and his, a brief description of the movie you were in the process of making, and some speculatory remarks with a couple of innuendos thrown in. The usual gossip mag fare. On the other side of the paragraph was another photo, both of you leaving set the previous Friday, hand in hand and smiling. “We look pretty good together,” you laughed, getting only a noncommittal grunt in return. He’d suddenly become very interested in the sheet you’d handed him, staring at it like he hadn’t been there when it was written. You reread the brief article, trying not to gawk at the photographs. It certainly looked believable. “I’ve had about four people wish us well this morning,” Ben suddenly said, seemingly pulling himself together, folding up the rules and shoving them into his back pocket, “and I’ve not been here long. It’s kinda weird having everyone know we’re together. Or think we’re together,” he quickly corrected himself. “Yeah, Mel kept asking me questions about it while she was doing my makeup this morning, so I hope she took my awkwardness as me wanting to keep things private and not me not knowing how to answer some of them.” Ben chuckled, “yeah, Gail gave me a bit of a grilling too. I just told her we’d been sort of seeing each other for a few weeks and had only just like made it official or whatever and she seemed to buy it.” “Good, I told Mel the same sort of thing. Hopefully that’s enough for them.” “I’m more concerned with what my friends are going to say. I don’t think any of them read Heat though so hopefully it doesn’t come up any time soon,” “Lucky. My friend Felicity has the dumb site bookmarked. Checks it religiously. Bloody miracle she hasn’t called yet.” “Better turn of your phone then,” “And come back to a full voicemail and about a hundred texts demanding to know why I’m ghosting her?” “Tell her you were filming. I do it all the time,” he was grinning at you and you couldn’t help but grin back as you pulled your phone out and shut it off, “atta girl,” he pulled you into his side and gave you an affectionate squeeze that you leaned into , fully aware of how many people were around you, potentially watching. It was a feeling that didn’t really let up. You knew, rationally, that everyone there was focused on their jobs, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were constantly being scrutinised, and not just for your acting. It didn’t help when Seth had to stop recording to fix a problem with the boom mic and, good-humouredly, said, “don’t worry lovebirds, we’ll have her running in a second.” Or that one of the ADs delivered your call sheets for the next day with a, “I always thought you’d be cute together.” And it certainly didn’t help when you turned your phone on at the end of the day to find a series of texts from Felicity each with more exclamation points and capital letters than the last, and a missed call from Mary. “Better call her back,” Ben said, following you towards the carpark. You rolled your eyes, already holding the phone up to your ear listening to it ring. “Y/N, I was just about to try you again,” “Sorry, Mary, I had my phone off while we were recording, what’s the matter?” “Are you free this weekend?” “Um yeah, I think so, why?” “We’d like for you and Ben to go on a date this weekend. Somewhere in London preferably but it’s up to you. You saw the article in Heat? It seems to be going well. The hits your names have got on google have increased and there have been a few tweets about it. Nothing huge, you’re not trending or anything but you’re still relatively unknown so we weren’t expecting that to happen, certainly not overnight. But we think if we get a date story out quickly it’ll really help get people interested.” You rubbed your temple as you tried to process everything she’d just said, “Okay, I’ll talk to him and we’ll organise something. I’ll text you the details once I have them.” “Okay, let me know as soon as you can though. And send Peter the info too.” “Will do. See ya Mary.” “Was that about me?” Ben asked, smiling as he leaned against your car. “You up for a date this weekend? Apparently the first story went well and they want a follow up ASAP.” “Sure, where are we going?” “I don’t know, somewhere around London would apparently be best, but we get to choose. Any thoughts?” He thought for a moment, “This isn’t our first date is it? Like, we’ve said we’ve been on others before, right?” “Yeah, why?” “Well normally for a first date I take girls out for dinner and then, depending on the girl and how the dinner went, either a quiet drink or like a romantic as fuck walk in the park or something.” “That’s pretty standard stuff, Ben,” “Yeah, but in the fiction of us as a couple, this isn’t our first date. This’d be, what?” “Fifth maybe?” “Fifth. So I’m still trying to impress you a bit, but it’s like, more relaxed. We’ve done the dinner date, we’ve done coffee and a movie, we’ve even done the Museum. Now we’re getting into the fun shit.” “Museums don’t count as fun shit?” you chuckled, not sure where his train of thought was taking you. “It’s a bit overdone is all.” “What do you have in mind then?” “There’s this place that runs art classes during the day, right? Life drawing or like painting for beginner's type stuff. But a couple of nights a week they run these art and wine nights. They’ll give you a canvas or a ceramic figure or something like that and some paints and you can have a few drinks and do something arty. I did it with some mates a while ago, had heaps of fun. Seemed like the sort of thing yo- a girl might like to do on a date.” “That definitely sound fun.” “Really? You’re into it?” “Yeah, for sure.” “Okay,” Ben pulled out his phone and began typing, “shall I book us in for the Saturday night ceramics session?” “Go ahead. What time was that, so I can let Mary and Peter know.” “Seven thirty. If we get a cab in a little earlier we can grab something to eat on our way.” “Cool, okay I’ll text them. Is it BYO?” “Yeah. They do sell some stuff but it’s a pretty small selection.” “Okay, well that’s something to look forward to. Anyway, I should be going since I have about a million texts to sort through, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wait, one thing,” Ben said before you could open your car door, “There’s a few people coming off set now so I’m going to kiss you, okay?” “Thanks for the heads up,” “No worries,” he stepped closer, his hand rising to cup your cheek as he kissed you softly. He took longer to break away than you’d expected, letting the kiss deepen instead, but you didn’t mind too much. It was a good kiss. And if it hadn’t been for Ben and the movie, you would have been severely lacking them recently. Which explained the vague feeling of disappointment that hit you when he did step back.

On your way home your phone beeped with another text from Felicity but you ignored it until you were inside and changed into the comfiest clothes you could find, flopping down on your bed to scroll through what she’d written. They varied from, “omg why didn’t you tell me about this Ben guy?” to “Y/N!!! Answer my texts!!!” all the way up to, “BITCH!!! CALL ME!!!!” She picked up on the first ring. “Where the fuck have you been all day?” “Some of us don’t have office jobs we hate,” you laughed, “I actually had to work, funnily enough, and because we were on location I had to keep my phone off while we recorded.” “Well I’ve been going crazy over here. Imagine my shock when I boot up my computer and open Heat and see your fucking arse being grabbed by your co-star.” “He was not grabbing my arse.” “Close enough. You didn’t tell me how fucking gorgeous he is.” “No, well, I don’t usually think about the people I work with like that, do I?” “Which is why I was so surprised to see you’ve shacked up with one of them.” “It’s not quite that serious.” “One night stands aren’t your usual thing. Definitely not with guys you work with anyway.” “I never said it was a one night stand, just that it wasn’t super serious!” “How many times then?” “We’ve been on like four dates.” “You fuckhead! You mean to tell me you’re actually dating this guy, who by the way looks like he could be a fucking underwear model, and you didn’t think to tell me? No so much as a I got dicked down by a total babe aren’t you jealous message?” “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it if it wasn’t going to go anywhere.” “But still, I’m your best friend, I tell you about every shag I have.” “In graphic detail,” “Exactly.” “Look it’s just a bit weird still. Neither of us have really hooked up with a co-star before and we didn’t want to say anything until we worked out what was happening.” “I guess that makes sense,” you could tell she didn’t mean it, “But, now that it’s out you owe me. I want to hear all about it.” “There’s not much to tell. We became quite good friends during all the pre-production stuff when we were rehearsing and all that. Our director wanted to make sure we clicked and had the right chemistry and stuff, since it’s a romcom and our characters get engaged in the first scene, so we hung out a lot. And then just before filming started he asked me out. Took me to this nice Chinese restaurant. It was fun so we agreed to go out again and it’s sort of just kept going.” “Those photos, was that the first time you’d stayed over at his?” “Second. First time was a couple of weeks ago. The night that led to the photos was just a few drinks after work with some of the others and we ended up ducking out a bit early and wound up at his.” “And?” “And what?” You had a hard time not laughing when you heard her groan. Her eagerness to know every sordid detail made her easy to fuck with, and that made the whole business of being secretive a lot more fun. “And, how was he?” “I mean…y’know,” “Y/N, I swear to god,” “He was good, okay? Really good,” you remembered what Ben had told you to say, trying not to laugh too much while you repeated it, “like, three orgasms good.” “Shit, really?” “Uhuh. And then another in the morning.” Felicity replied with a long whistle, “shit, girl, hold onto that one then. That’s definitely worth any trouble working together could cause." “Believe me, I know. We’re going out again this weekend.” It was surprisingly easy to lie about dating Ben. Though, of course, you weren’t technically lying since you would be going on a date. “Shit man, date five. That’s serious shit. You better tell me everything, in graphic detail.”

When you told Ben about the conversation the next day, admitting you’d spent ages praising his sexual prowess, he laughed and then thanked you, pulling you into a tight bear hug. You thought it was a slight overreaction considering he’d been the one to tell you what to say but his happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than normal as you hung out between scenes. An attitude which could only help your performance, making people more ready to believe you were a couple. His easy laughter and bright smiles continued until the afternoon when you were telling him more about Felicity and what you’d talked about. “She thinks you’re a keeper and kept telling me not to let you go.” “Your friend knows what she’s talking about.” “Lucky for you I can’t let you go since it’s all written up in a contract,” Ben laughed but when you glanced at him his smile seemed to falter. “You okay?” “Brilliant. Just had a bit of a late night and it’s catching up on me. Think I might try to have a quick nap before we’re needed again.” “I was thinking of grabbing another coffee if you want one?” “Thanks Y/N but I think the nap will do me more good.” “Probably better people don’t see us heading off to a trailer together anyway or they’ll suspect we’re getting up to mischief.” “Very true. I’ll see you a bit later.” “Sleep well!” Ben turned to leave, his smile seeming more forced than earlier. You would have worried except he seemed to be back to normal when he was called for your next scene. And it continued on through the week, his happiness only getting more pronounced the closer it got to the weekend.

You couldn’t quite match his energy on Friday, anxiety over your date getting stronger the closer you got to it. Hanging out at his place had been easy, even if it did include leaving half dressed. All you’d had to do was kiss him which you’d done enough times during filming that it was no longer too odd. But a proper date was something else. It was going to be the first real test you faced, the first time you’d really have to sell yourselves to the public as more than co-stars and more than a hook-up. “Hey are you okay?” “Huh?” “Your jiggling your leg a lot which you only do when something’s worrying you, what is it?” “Oh,” you forced your leg to stop moving, “nothing,” “Is it about our date tonight?” “What if it’s bad? What if we don’t look like we’re actually together and Mary and Pete have to cancel the whole thing?” “I’d get a decent night sleep not thinking about us,” he muttered. “What?” “I’ve been worried about it too,” he said louder, “but I think we’ll be okay. It’s not like we’ll be starved for conversation and we’ll have the paint and the wine and we’ll be fine. Plus, weren’t you the one who said this would be easy?” “Yeah I was,” you said sheepishly, “but -” “No buts. It’ll be a piece of cake. We go and have a good time painting a couple of plates or bowls or whatever, and then hold hands while we head home. They’ll get whatever shots they get, and they’ll spin it so we look like a couple.” “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” “It’s okay,” he reached out to rub the back of your hand, smiling softly at you, “the nerves might actually help you look like you’re legit. And worst comes to worst we can always run lines. I’m honestly so much more nervous about shooting that scene tomorrow.” “The one where we’re playing matchmaker?” “Yes! Have you seen how many names are in there?” “Theres like six, Ben,” “Yeah but they’re all repeated, and I know I’m going to get the order wrong,” You giggled and shook your head, “You’re unbelievable,” “Oh whatever,” he pushed your shoulder almost making you overbalance, “Just cos you know the lines already.”

Ben’s efforts to calm you down worked and you got through the rest of the workday without a hitch. Though your stomach was once again tight with nerves in the hours before the date. You spent a solid half hour standing in front of your wardrobe, freshly washed hair slowly dripping down the back of the towel you had wrapped around you, trying to settle on what to wear. When you were finally dressed you checked and rechecked the contents of your purse, and, in a moment of panic, you grabbed the heavily highlighted and notated script pages with the matchmaker scene and shoved them in beside your lipstick and bank card. By the time Ben arrived in an Uber to pick you up, ushering you into the backseat with a kiss on the cheek and a complement about how lovely you looked, you felt like you were on the verge of throwing up. But, once again, Ben’s natural charm eased your mind. The way he talked to you and smiled constantly had your heart rate slowing and your stomach settling within minutes. Even the way he squeezed your hand when he helped you out of the car, and the way he laced his fingers with yours as he led you towards your destination were welcome comforts. “D’you wanna grab something to eat?” Ben asked, stopping on a corner and looking around, annoyed people passing by on both sides. “Uhh, s’pose so.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re indecisive?” “I swear I’m not normally.” “Oh? Do I make you nervous, snookum?” he asked, playfully. “No, you git,” you laughed back, though you found it hard to meet his eyes, “I just don’t know I’m that hungry.” “Well, keep in mind there’ll be wine drinking. Don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.” “Valid argument. What’s nearby?” After some wandering you ended up in a McDonalds, Ben wolfing down a burger while you picked at the fries, not quite certain you’d be able to keep your food down. It was when you were coming out of a bottle shop, Ben holding the wine you’d agreed on, that you spotted the photographer. It was the same one who’d been outside Ben’s house when you stayed over, camera aimed at the two of you. Quietly you nudged Ben. He just wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as you walked. You struggled to not watch the photographer as he followed you towards the art studio, having to keep reminding yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. “Relax,” Ben said softly in your ear, “He’s not important.” You nodded, afraid if you said anything you’d lose the meagre dinner you’d had. Ben’s thumb rubbing over your own gave you something else to focus on, counting each soft, smooth stroke, until you reached the right place.

You weren’t the only couple there, far from it. Most of the claimed tables were taken by pairs sitting close together, hands clasped or laying on thighs as they talked. A few tables held larger groups, double dates maybe or perhaps just friends. You felt a few eyes on you as you found a table close to the clear glass of the shopfront, but they turned away again quickly, more interested in their own little bubbles than yours. You glanced outside to check if the photographer was still there but couldn’t see much more than the reflection of you and Ben. His knee bumped yours under the table as he leaned toward you, pressing a finger to your jaw to turn your head towards him. “Forget the photographer. Forget Mary and Peter. Forget our arrangement. We're just two friends having a fun night out, okay?” “Okay,” “Okay. So what are you thinking of painting then?” He unscrewed the bottle of wine and grabbed one of the glasses you’d been handed on arrival. “Well what are my options?” “Well there’s your classic teacup, mug or plate options. There’s a couple of different jewellery boxes, I think. And then there are the statues, ummm, fairy, dragon, alien. Maybe a princess one, I can’t remember.” “More than I thought there’d be. What were you thinking?” “I did a dragon last time I was here. But I think I’m going to do a mug this time. Need some extras if you’re gonna be staying over more often.” “Maybe we should both do mugs, then? Something we can use at each other’s places.” “Alright, deal. But we can’t look at what the other is painting until they’re done.” “That’s going to be so hard!” you laughed, feeling properly relaxed for the first time all night. “Yeah but it’ll be fun though. Wait here, I’ll go grab us the mugs.” You took the opportunity to look around the room, trying to think of what Ben might like on a mug. There was art everywhere – paintings hanging on walls, examples of what the classes could teach you, decorated ceramics lining windowsills and shelves. Judging by the wildly differing levels of talent displayed, you assumed at least some of them were left behind and never claimed. There were plates decorated with fruit trees and ocean scenes, jugs covered in splatters of different colours, aliens in shimmery blue and princesses with green hair and orange dresses. But nothing that sparked your imagination. The noise of the room was steadily growing as everyone got stuck into their creations. Ben sat down, took a drink and got to work mixing colours. “You know what you’re going to do then?” “I have an idea. But I will warn you I’m not a particularly good artist so it might not look anything like what it’s meant to.” You picked up your blank mug and put it down again, tapping the end of a paintbrush against the table as you tried to come up with an idea. What did Ben like? He liked coffee. And dogs. And his guitar. More than once he’d brought it to set, playing it in his downtime. He’d been embarrassed the first time you mentioned overhearing him as you passed by his trailer, but you’d assured him you’d liked listening to him. You’d had the song stuck in your head for a week afterwards. “Made up your mind, have you?” Ben asked, glancing up from his handiwork as you mixed a pale peach colour. “No peeking,” “I wasn’t peeking. If I’d been peeking, I would have done this,” Ben craned his neck, leaning over to where your mug was. You laughed and pulled the mug closer to you, pushing him away with your other hand. He caught it in his own, taking the paintbrush from you, “Oi, careful with that.” “Oops, sorry,” Ben laughed and kissed your palm before letting you have your hand back, “No harm done. But y’know if you splattered me I’d have no choice but to get payback.” There was no need to reach for the script you’d brought as you and Ben fell into conversation while you painted. He asked if you’d had any more awkward phone calls with your friends and told you about what had happened when his mates had found out. Nothing like the conversation you’d endured, though there’d been plenty of teasing. You had to admonish him for nearly getting paint on your work when he began using the largest brush he had to artistically spray drops of paint over his mug. And then he’d laughed when you paused, admitting out loud that you weren’t actually sure how to paint the thing you’d planned on painting. He’d promised not to peek while you whipped out your phone to look up a reference image, going to far as to cover his eyes just to make sure. Once you gave him the okay he went back to painting, switching to a thinner brush and shushing you so he could concentrate. It was ridiculous how cute he looked, tongue between his teeth, bent over the mug as he slowly outlined the design. You shook your head to clear the thought and went back to your own work.

“Okay, I’m done. You wanna see now?” “Yes, absolutely. Unless you think we should wait until after they’ve been glazed?” “Fuck that, we can’t pick them up for a couple of days, I wanna show you now.” “Alright, show me then,” you put down your brush, focusing all your attention onto the mug in Ben’s hands. The base coat was a light purple, with splatters of darker purple over top. Slowly he turned the mug to show you the design on the front. It bore a slightly wonky engagement ring, similar to the one his character gave yours in the movie. On either side of the ring, in thin, not quite straight lettering, was the words we’re really good at this dating thing. You smiled as soon as you read the quote from the script, “I love it, Ben” “Thought it was kind of fitting,” he chuckled, “plus it’ll be a nice little souvenir once the movie wraps.” “That was a fun scene to shoot. Best proposal I’ve ever had.” Ben smiled and carefully turned his mug back towards him, “Best proposal I’ve ever given,” He seemed to be about to say something but stopped himself, shaking his head. You lowered your voice, “Promise I’ll get to keep it after we break up?” “Promise,” Ben said, matching your level and leaning in close, “Until then maybe you can use it as a reminder whenever you feel anxious about this whole dating thing.” “Thanks, I will.” You were suddenly very aware of how softly you were speaking, how close you were sitting, leaning in to hear each other over the rest of the room, and for a split second you thought he was going to kiss you again. But then the moment passed, the noise of the room intruding as Ben leaned back in his seat, “So do I get to see mine?” “Uh, it’s not quite done,” you said, picking up your brush again, the moment gone, “give me another couple of minutes.” “Masterpieces take time, I get it,” “This is by no stretch a masterpiece,” “I’ll be the judge of that thanks very much,” Ben turned to look out over the room while you tried to finish your painting without smudging anything, occasionally making comments about other people there or the art that decorated the room. You took one last look at what you’d painted, the guitar with the words stun gun lullaby written in cursive beside it, “Alright, I’m done now, you can look. Careful, some of it’s still wet.” Ben gently took hold of the handle and turned the mug so the design faced him. He broke out into a grin and you felt relieved that he liked it. “It’s definitely a masterpiece. For someone who didn’t know how to draw a guitar you’ve done an incredible job. And how did you know that’s one of my favourite songs?” “Is it? It's just the song I overheard you playing that one time. I thought that line was a good one for a mug. Nice and short so I didn’t have to paint too much.” “This is definitely my new favourite mug.” “Oh stop it.” “And hey, they kind of match.” You laughed when he pointed out the similarities, “Guess they do. Y’know that’d make a pretty cute Instagram post.” “You going to tag me as my mug?” “Of course. You could post a photo and tag me in it too,” “I don’t know. I don’t really post much personal stuff online.” “Well at least comment on mine,” “I can do that.”

After you’d taken a decent photo and posted it online you cleaned up, handed your mugs over to the woman running the night’s activity and stepped back out into the night. There was no sign of the photographer anywhere and you supposed he’d got what he needed and then left. Still, Ben grabbed your hand as you walked back up the street, just in case you’d missed the photographer in the crowd. “Guess that means we don’t have to worry about going home together,” you said, nudging Ben. “Guess not,” his lips quirked down in a soft frown.” “What is it?” “Nothing, nothing, just...feels kind of weird to just end the date here, I guess,” he scratched the back of his head and laughed, “Normally I’d offer to give you a lift home. Or at least give you a good night kiss, but I guess that’s not really needed now.” “Well, it’s like you said, we’re just friends having a fun night out. We could share a ride home though, if you wanted. You live near enough to mine it wouldn’t matter.” “Nah, don’t worry about it. I actually might go grab something to eat, don’t think that burger was quite enough. See you on Monday?” “Oh, yeah, okay, see you Monday.” There was a pause, both of you hesitating and then Ben gave you a much too quick hug before he walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You sighed and hailed a passing cab, spending the whole ride home wondering what the hell had just happened. But you pushed it from your mind once you were home, going through your usual nightly routine and very deliberately thinking of anything other than Ben. It didn’t help much. You still dreamt about him. Dreamt about the goodnight kiss you’d missed out on.

When you woke you had to laugh at yourself. You were sure that, had you binged a few episodes of a tv show or read something before you’d gone to bed you would have dreamt about it instead. Brains were suggestable like that. When you felt awake enough you rolled over and grabbed your phone finding a text from Ben and one from Felicity and an email from Mary. You opened Mary’s first, skimming over it and vowing to look at it properly once you had a coffee in your system. Ben’s was much easier to understand, a short message to say he had fun last night and that he’d pick the mugs up on his way to work on Monday. Felicity’s was just a series of question marks. You sent back a short response saying the date had been a lot of fun. It wasn’t enough and she was bound to come back at you asking for more details, but it would have to satisfy her. Slowly you got out of bed and made yourself a coffee, setting your laptop up next to you at the kitchen counter so you could try to read Mary’s email again. There was some information about some scripts she was going to send you, a couple of potential future roles, but the majority of the email was about you and Ben. She’d already seen the photos, apparently, and some of them would be run in the coming week’s magazine while others were being put online. She’d also seen the Instagram post and commended you for thinking of it. Another date would have to be organised, but it was better to wait until the next weekend or even the one after, so as not to fatigue the public.

So you and Ben fell into the routine of it. An email from one or other of your agents sometimes as vague as just telling you to organise a date, sometimes much more specific in what they wanted you to be doing, then the date itself, and in between work where you played up the romance as much as possible. You got good at pretending to stay over at each other's places, often just hanging out watching TV or running lines until the photographer called it a night and you were free to leave. Once or twice you’d opted to sleep in your own bed but get up early and head over to Ben’s for the required morning after shots but that process got old very quickly so you ended up actually staying over more and more. There was one day when your period came unexpectedly while you were at Ben’s. You were halfway through asking him to take you home when he offered to run to the store for you instead. “No, no, you don’t have to go out of your way like that, I’ve got plenty at home I just didn’t think I’d need any today.” “Y/N, I promise, it’s no trouble. I feel bad I don’t have anything here for you already. Been a while since I’ve lived with a girl and it didn’t even cross my mind. Seriously, it’ll take me two minutes.” When you still weren’t convinced he continued, “Plus, if I go we won’t ruin Peter and Mary’s plan for today. And the Paps can get a shot of me staring at boxes of tampons like a good caring boyfriend. It’ll help our image.” “Oh alright, as long as you don’t mind.” He was out the door a second later and back within ten minutes, though you did get a call from him at the shop, asking what brand you preferred. Once he was home, he made you a cup of tea, gave you a painkiller and, after checking you didn’t mind, cuddled up with you on the couch, teasingly calling you his cuddle bunny as he pulled you back against his chest. You almost complained, almost cited Rule 5, but it wasn’t so bad. Some might even go so far as to call it cute. It was better than snookum at any rate.

The dates themselves got easier after the first. You knew what to expect now so it wasn’t as nerve wracking as before. And Ben was always fun to be around, your list of inside jokes steadily growing as he became the one person you spent the most time with. You let yourselves relax a bit. On your third date Ben’s arm stayed glued around your waist as you walked around the zoo, only losing contact when a lemur jumped on his shoulder and you stepped back to take a photo. It wasn’t low enough to violate the rules you’d put in place but his hand was dangerously close to falling below your belt, and it was definitely something you would have put a stop to when you first started the charade. The Instagram posts had got more frequent too, though Ben still refused to post anything to his own profile. But he commented on everything you posted whether it involved him or not. And people were buying it. You’d been moved from page 15 to page 13 and then to page 10 in the magazines. You both picked up more followers online as your photos were shared across Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr. There were some downsides like rude comments and nasty messages but mostly they were easy to ignore. Worse were the phone calls and messages from family members and friends asking when they’d get to meet Ben. He’d had to fend off his own family as well, but you both stuck to Rule 4, making up excuses and promising it would happen eventually, but it just wasn’t possible right now. But your biggest problem was the issue of intimacy. It wasn’t the lack of sex itself, that was easily managed. It was that Ben had started to intrude on your fantasies. You’d be there with your fingers or your toys and suddenly it was Ben’s voice you were thinking of, Ben’s hands, Ben’s teeth and tongue and chest. Ben’s name falling from your lips. And you knew it was just because you were pretending to date him, on and off set. It was the dumb suggestable brain thing again. The thoughts were only there because you were pretending to be in love with him and usually sex was tied up with love or at least relationships. And really, you hadn’t been attracted to anyone much lately because you hadn’t been looking because you’d been pretending to be attracted to Ben so it’s really no wonder you’re brain got all confused and mixed him into those other thoughts. The first time you saw him after it first happened you wondered if he could tell, a slightly flustered awkwardness hanging over you. But it wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone. You just vowed to push him out of your mind as much as you could.

Nearly two months later you found yourselves back in the office where the idea of pretending to date was first floated. With filming drawing to a close Mary and Peter were keen to check in with you. The first thing either of them said when you and Ben turned up is how well the story was going. “Projections have the sales for this movie increased by five percent, just because of your relationship and that number is expected to grow as we get closer to release,” Mary spoke fast though whether that was excitement at the boosted numbers or just a busy schedule rushing her along you weren’t sure. “What happens now?” Ben asked, “I mean, since we won’t be filming together anymore after this week,” “That’s exactly why we wanted to talk with you both today,” Peter opened a pocket notebook and thumbed through a couple of pages, “so not much will change but we may occasionally need to balance out the loss of on set photos with shots of you out and about together. Nothing stressful and all very easily staged. You probably wouldn’t even need to be out for more than an hour or so at a time. People have been loving the domestic sort of photos you’ve been putting online, Y/N, that one of you using the coffee mugs you painted was especially good. So we’d like a few more of those sorts of moments. The two of you grocery shopping or walking a dog, do either of you have a dog? No? Hmmm, we could hire a dog and write a story about you sitting for a friend. We’ll put a pin in that for now. But yes, just some candid shots of you walking around London and doing regular everyday things together.” “We’ll also need to schedule the argument soon. We’re thinking somewhere within the first two weeks of filming being over. It means we can run speculation about whether the relationship is on the rocks now that you aren’t working together anymore. We’ll see how things go this week and make some decisions later, but we’ll give you plenty of warning before you have to perform it. Obviously, it has to be scheduled so we can guarantee someone will get photos but we need it to seem as natual as possible so we’ll leave the specifics of the argument up to you.” You nodded along but Ben had more questions. “What does this mean for any jobs we might be looking at taking after this movie wraps?” “You can still take on whatever roles you want provided they’re filming here. It’s harder to keep you in the public eye if you’re separated and while the drama of a long-distance relationship might be interesting at first, it’s not sustainable.” “If it was filming somewhere else in the UK we could maybe organise something. We’d have to look into it and see if it was possible to stick to our same plan but just shift the location. Maybe have a weekend visit angle to it, Y/N flies out to see Ben, Ben comes home to see Y/N, that kind of thing.” “Leave it with us Ben and we’ll get back to you on the logistics of it all.” “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t have anything set in stone, I was just curious.” “Is there anything else you have questions about?” “No, I don’t think so,” He looked towards you. “No, I’m all good.” “Okay, well, if you think of anything you can message us any time.” “Really, though, this is going very well. It’s already paying off but we need to keep the momentum during the post-production phase, so we need you both to be committed to this.” “We are.” “Unbelievably committed,” Ben added.

You and Ben left the meeting joking about potential arguments you could have and for the rest of the day, whenever you passed each other in the halls or had a moment alone you’d try to one up each other's suggestions. It was a good way to keep your spirits up even though the end of filming was fast approaching. One by one each cast member recorded their last scenes, saying an emotional thank you to the crew when the director called cut. You and Ben were the last to finish since you were the leads. A small pillow talk scene that you could do in your sleep. It was a nice way to end it, lying in bed with Ben’s arms around you, even with the heat of the studio lights. While you were waiting for the cameras to be positioned you and Ben joked around with the crew that were flitting around angling mics and adjusting set decorations. “Hey, Seth,” Ben said suddenly, “can you pass me my phone. I think we need to document this moment. What d’you say, cuddle bunny?” You laughed and poked him in the side but agreed. Ben stuck his arm straight up into the air, trying to angle the camera just right but he couldn’t quite get the photo to take without blurring. Seth took pity on you and offered to take the photo himself, allowing you and Ben to snuggle in close. “If you post it on Insta you better credit me,” Set laughed, turning it round to show you. “I’ll do that,” He said with a smile, “It’s pretty cute, I think I have to post it.” “Really?” you asked, surprised he’d volunteer to do such a thing. Ben didn’t have a chance to respond because everything was ready to go. Seth put the phone back away so you could film the scene, laughing in between takes until everyone was satisfied. “That’s a wrap on Ben Hardy and Y/N Y/L/N everybody,” A round of applause started as you pushed yourself to sit up, trying to stop yourself from welling up. “And that’s a wrap on The Perfect Match.” The applause continued and Ben pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You had to say a few words but you managed to get through it, and Ben’s little speech, without completely losing it. Afterwards, as people packed up the equipment and you headed back to your trailers to change, Ben pulled out his phone again. “I guess I should post that photo now, how’s this caption,” he said each word slowly as he typed it out, “Thank you Y/N for being the perfect Edith to my Andy. And thank you @theperfectmatchmovie for finding me my perfect match.” “Did you tag me?” “Of course,” “Did you tag Seth?” “Uhhhh, camera emoji by @seththesoundman. Now I have,” “Then it’s perfect. Little bit cheesy but I’ll let it slide.” “I’ll post another lot of photos with everyone else later and write a longer thing about how much fun this movie was and all of that, but I think this’ll do for the minute. Mary and Peter better fucking appreciate it.”

That evening most of the cast and crew headed out for drinks at the local pub. The official party would come later but everyone needed to get out and celebrate for an evening. You and Ben stayed for a few hours, Ben getting a little more clingy with each drink he finished. You limited yourself to only a couple. Ben wasn’t going to be able to drive so you decided to fall on that sword, switching to water quite early on. When he reached the point of intoxication that had him constantly complementing everyone you decided to call it a night, taking a final lap to say goodnight to everyone. There were a few wolf whistles and slurred comments about getting some as you left, Ben’s arm around your waist and his laugh in your ear, but you waved them off and led Ben out to your car. “C’mon Benny boy, I’ll drop you home.” “What about my car?” “Well you’ll have to come get it in the morning, won’t you.” He hummed and lay his head against the back of the seat, chatting animatedly as you made the trip to his. You wished him goodnight as he got out of the car and watched him make his way up to his front door. There he paused, patting his pockets. “Everything alright? You called out to him. “I don’t have any keys,” he laughed, turning around to come back to the car. “You fucking goon, did you leave them at the pub?” “Guess so,” he shrugged, “Can I crash at yours?” “Get in,” “Thanks cuddle bunny, you’re the best” You rolled your eyes, “Guess this means I’ll be your taxi tomorrow, running you around to find your keys and your car,” “That’s what girlfriends are for,” “If you say so.”

Once at yours you headed to the kitchen to make tea, Ben following to grab a glass of water and a snack. He knew where you kept everything by now, making himself a sandwich with whatever he found in your fridge, and then carrying it out to the couch. By the time the teas were made Ben already had Netflix queued up, ready to play the next episode of the series you’d started watching together. Nearly Twenty minutes into the episode Ben’s phone dinged. “Ah shit,” he said as he glanced at it, “forgot I said I’d call Joe. Do you mind if we pause the ep? We’re trying to organise travel stuff for him and it’s easier if we talk it through rather than texting it all.” “Sure,” “I promise I won’t be long.” “Take your time, it’s fine,” you were already reaching for your laptop. Ben smiled at you before ducking out of the room. You head him walking down the hall, footsteps fading as he got further away. For a while you just enjoyed the quiet as you checked your emails and social media profiles but after commenting on the photo Ben had posted and replying to a few messages from people you knew there wasn’t really much left to do. You drummed your fingers on your keyboard trying to think of another website you could visit. There was still no sign of Ben and you didn’t want to continue the show without him so you stood up, stretched, and headed back to the kitchen to grab some chocolate from the stash you kept. You were just about to shut the fridge when you heard Ben’s voice coming from the other side of the wall. Your spare room where he’d clearly gone to make his phone call. “Yeah, Joe, I fucking know. But I don’t have much choice.” He sounded more sober than he had when he’d got up. There was a pause as Joe spoke and then you heard Ben again. “I don’t know what I was thinking getting into this mess…..Yeah maybe. Doesn’t really matter though now does it…. What’s that supposed to mean? I can’t just call it quits now, the story is doing too well and Peter has assured me that the numbers are promising or whatever I don’t really know how they measure it. All I know is that people are going to see the movie because of us.” There was a long pause. You quietly shut the fridge and took a step back towards the doorway. This was not a conversation you should be listening in to. But then Ben spoke again, and curiosity got the better of you. “It doesn’t matter Joe. It doesn’t matter how I feel.” He laughed but it was completely devoid of humour, “Of course it sucks. It’s fucking shit, man. I just keep waiting for her to tell me she feels the same but it’s not happening…... No, I know it’s completely one sided…..No, I don’t think she knows. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it in the first place if she knew…. I just wish things were different. I love being around her and being able to hold her and kiss her but it fucking sucks that it’s only in public….. I don’t know. Maybe not filming together will ma-” You could feel your cheeks burning as you tiptoed back towards the lounge room, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You paced back and forth for a moment before deciding to go to the bathroom, at least then Ben couldn’t walk in on you as you tried to process it. You let the door shut loudly behind you, hoping that if Ben had heard movement he’d think you’d just got up to use the loo. He couldn’t know you’d overheard him. You leaned against the sink and tried to make sense of what you’d heard. Ben couldn’t have a crush on you, he just couldn’t. But it was the only thing he could have been talking about. What the fuck did that mean for your arrangement? What the fuck were you meant to do now?

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ahhhhhhh #ya'll im so excited about this series #i have all the chapters planned out #i have all the titles planned out #i wrote a short synopsis of the film they're making #so that i can reference it throughout the fic and be consistent in what the scenes might be #god can ben please just make a romcom now #i want it more than anything in the world

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sparklydreamies · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (1) Bang Chan: Perfection

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,300+

Summary: Bang Chan can’t afford to take breaks in this industry.

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: This is the beginning of an 8 part Stray Kids hurt/comfort series!! I hope that you will all enjoy this a lot :) also writing this sort of theme about Chan absolutely killed me because this man deserves the entire world ;-;

TW: This story contains a descriptive anxiety attack.

Through the blurry, sleepy view his eyes gave him, Bang Chan could barely make out the small, digital clock on his desk that read 3:14. He groaned softly as he resumed his work on what was soon to be Stray Kids’ next title track.

Normally, Chan considers himself a person who is able to work fast and diligently at the same time, which often comes in handy in an industry that demands perfection. Yet, as he sat slouched in his desk chair, fiddling with his laptop to try and create a proper bass line, he began to feel pressured.

For a producing idol, having writer’s block was a death sentence. Nothing had the power to overwhelm Chan with the heavy feeling of anxiety like a deadline for a demo due at the end of the week which has barely been started.

It’s not that the song hasn’t been started, it’s that it has been started and restarted too many times to count after Chan deemed the previous draft unacceptable. Chan’s standards for himself might seem overkill to some people, but Chan calls it being a perfectionist.

Everyone, including Bang Chan knows that real perfection was not possible for a man to achieve, however that didn’t stop Chan from striving for it. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. Being a perfectionist meant that Chan was never finished with anything until he was one hundred percent proud of it. This demo was not an exception.

As Chan listened to the basic beats he had recorded already, he began to drift out of consciousness.

He had to finish the track. He was so tired. Maybe if he took a twenty minute nap he would feel better. No, he would just end up sleeping all night. Wake up. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

He was yanked out of his dreamy state by the harsh sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. He took a second to gather his surroundings before checking the text message sent to him.

Changbinnie: Where are you?

Chan groaned. Changbin has been on his ass all week about taking care of himself as if he was made of glass. Changbin should know that this was how Chan worked. He always pushes himself to his breaking point and faces the brink of exhaustion in order to create the best music he could. There was no other way for him to make music.

Channie: Studio

Chan cracked his back against his chair before getting back to work. It was only three in the morning, which was hardly late enough for Chan to admit defeat and give into his drooping eyelids.

He didn’t get it. Music always came so easily to him. All of the lyrics he tried to write sounded too awkward for his liking. All of the beats were too overdone and basic. He was frustrated and tired, and far too busy to deal with Changbin’s nagging.

Sure, Chan hasn’t been around for many meals during the past few days. Lord knows he hasn’t seen the inside of the dorm in three days straight unless it was to shower and change. Chan scoffed thinking of how he would react if it was one of the other members working to this extent. He would physically restrain them to their beds if that was necessary. He was different, though. He was the leader and the eldest. He didn’t have the time to worry about himself. He was responsible for all of their careers. He could handle a little bit of extra work.

His hands were shaking slightly as he recorded another chord progression for the pre-chorus. At this point, Chan didn’t even know if they were shaking from exhaustion or from the sheer amount of caffeine he had coursing through his system.

Chan let out another exasperated noise of defeat as he listened to the choppy way the verse led into the pre-chorus. He felt the frustration take right to his heart. His head was pounding, and he gripped the strands of his hair to ground himself.

He was okay. He had pulled songs out of his ass before, he could do it now. It was going to be fine. Maybe if he added a lead-up sound into the pre-chorus, things would flow nicer.

Why did he feel his eyes filling up with tears? He had no time to feel sorry for himself. Nothing was working out, and crying about it wouldn’t change the fact that his head was completely empty of original song ideas.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before focusing again on the track in front of him.

He hadn’t even started on the lyrics.

The sense of panic was far too strong, and his mind was screaming for him to buck up, focus harder, create something that was acceptable.

He was pulled out of his thoughts again by the sound of his studio door opening.

“You’re going to kill yourself, I hope you know,” Changbin said quietly as he made his way over to his usual chair beside Chan.

Chan tried to give a somewhat interested look to the younger rapper, but all he could manage was a slight head nod. He was still focused on the colourful lines of beats and chords on his laptop. He refrained from looking directly at the younger boy, not wanting to show any signs of the intense feelings that crushed his chest.

“Jesus christ, you actually look like shit,” Changbin grabbed Chan’s chin gently and brought his gaze towards away from the track which was causing so much grief, “why are you doing this?” Chan’s gaze remained unfocused, looking at nothing in particular.

Chan took a second to process what he was saying. Why was he doing this? Because it was his job. Because the company, the members and the fans were all waiting for him to do his job properly.

He wanted to say all of that, but what came out from his lips was “I have to”.

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said, “I’ve been warning you about taking care of yourself-- Chan you’re shaking”. He moved to grab a hold of Chan’s trembling fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, you are a shell of yourself, and for what?”

“For our jobs, Binnie” Chan pulled his hands away from the other boy, turning himself back towards the screen. He didn’t want the younger to see the fresh pool of salty tears threatening to fall down his cheeks without consent.

Changbin sighed. “You’re more important than a deadline. You know that, right?”

“What do you want me to do?” Chan asked, “I'm okay”. His voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper.

Chan didn’t need to look over to know that Changbin was thoroughly upset. Whether it was with him or the company, Chan didn’t know. All he knew was that when something upset Changbin, the aura of the room shifted. The air felt heavy and thick.

“I’m worried about you,” Changbin said, placing his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The older boy involuntarily flinched at the unexpected contact. “I woke up in the middle of the night to see that you aren’t in your bed again, and I just don’t know what to do anymore,”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be worried about me,” Chan swiveled in his chair to finally meet Changbin’s gaze for the first time that night, “it’s not your issue,” He was expecting frustration, anger or fury, but he was startled when all he could read in his brother’s eyes was shock and sadness.

“You don’t...” he trailed off, “you don’t sound like yourself...” Changbin slowly raised himself out of his chair. He was avoiding Chan’s eyes.

“All you’re doing is distracting me,” Chan accused, “I can handle myself, I don’t need you worrying about me like my mother,”

Changbin’s entire body was stiff. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but couldn’t.

Why couldn’t he see that this was what Chan needed? Why couldn’t he see that this was best? Why did he have to stick his nose in everybody’s business like he has any say in their activities?

“You should leave now,” Chan said coldly, “I have to get back to work,”

Changbin hesitated for a moment, seemingly mulling over what his next words should be.

“You’re upset that you are having trouble with a song... Big deal,” Changbin said, still quietly, but with so much more bite to his tone, which shocked Chan. “We have an entire group of kids at home who need their leader. You think that they don’t feel anxious these days? We all feel stressed, Chan”

“Bin-”

“These children look up to you because you’re a damn good leader,” Changbin began moving anxiously around the room, “they see their... role model throwing his health away for a song, and they think that should be the standard. It is sick, and it shouldn’t have to go that far,”

Chan felt the pressure in his head return at the words Changbin was saying. “You don’t have any right to bring them into this--”

“You know I found out Jeongin’s been skipping meals?” Changbin’s voice was steadily rising. His face was darkening with frustration that was hidden earlier.

Chan sat in stunned silence. Jeongin has been skipping meals? For how long? Why didn’t Chan realize this before? Was he sick? Did he need a councelor? Was he self conscious?

Before Chan got a chance to ask any of these questions, Changbin continued on his rant.

“All of the kids are stressed because that’s what happens before a comeback! I don’t give a damn if you want to ruin yourself for your music, because I get it. I do too. But I am not going to let you create a bad example for the kids. I can’t and I won’t,”

Chan finally found the strength in his legs to stand up and look at Changbin face to face. He could see that Changbin was furious by the fire in his eyes and the red colour that was taking over his skin.

“You have no right how to tell me to live, you don’t know what being the leader is like!” Chan snapped, shoving his finger into Changbin’s rapidly rising and falling chest, “I am doing this for the kids, okay?”

“If you honestly cared about them,” Changbin shoved Chan back away from him, causing the leader to stumble before gaining his balance on his desk chair, “you would make sure that they knew their health always comes first. This is a dangerous game, Chan! And sooner or later you are going to lose,”

“I think you should leave,” Chan said for the second time that night. He had enough. This was all so that Stray Kids could be the best group they can be, yet Changbin is acting like Chan is a maniac for being a perfectionist.

Changbin was stunned. “Be that way.” he mumbled before ultimately leaving the studio. Before ultimately leaving Chan alone.

The moment the door clicked shut behind the younger boy, Chan muffled his screams of frustration with his hands. The tears that have been on edge for a while now began streaming down his face, making tracks that felt like they burned the soft skin.

He was mad. No, mad was an understatement. He was upset. Furious. Angry. Pissed off. Hysterical. Any of those synonyms could describe the feelings that Chan felt. His head was pounding, and the pressure was back worse than ever.

He felt guilty because Changbin was right. He didn’t even notice that Jeongin wasn’t eating. He didn’t deserve to be a leader. He should quit. He should go to the company and tell them he failed.

Chan began pacing around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were too small.

His gaze fell on the small, white laptop that was causing his pain, and he felt white hot anger and frustration. With a cry of anguish, he slammed the screen shut.

He pulled at his hair so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped from his scalp. His chest felt so tight.

The laptop. He shut it so hard... What if he shattered the screen? With a whimper, he raised the screen up to see that it was still in good condition. The contents of the screen however, were not.

Chan felt the air leave his lungs when he saw he got bounced out of the software. He felt like his world was crashing down around him.

With shaky hands, he moved the mouse to open the software again. Chan prayed to whatever deity there was up there that he didn’t just lose all of the progress that he most definitely didn’t press save for.

The one attempt of a song that Chan didn’t hate ended up deleting from his laptop, never to fully develop into a proper song.

That was the final straw for Chan.

All at once, it seemed like the Earth’s supply of oxygen vanished. His hands flew desperately to his hair in an attempt to pull himself out of the spiral he was in.

He was full on sobbing, clutching his knees to his chest once his legs gave out from under him. He struggled for breath on his studio floor. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so bad.

It felt like his body was being compressed, and he didn’t know how to save himself. He felt hopeless and weak, crying over some stupid lost progress. His world was shattering.

Your work is gone.

Changbin hates you.

Jeongin isn’t eating because of you.

The members don’t want you as their leader.

The fans know you’re a fraud.

You’re a horrible idol.

You don’t deserve to be here.

These thoughts were ringing in Chan’s ears, bouncing around his skull. Chan cried out again, burying his face into the carpet, trying to breathe.

He needs help, but he doesn’t deserve it. He brought this on himself, and now he’s actually compelled to inconvenience another person with this. The track was gone, his members hated him, and he was broken.

Chan’s entire forehead was slick with sweat, and he felt his body tremble. He was a weak, worthless fool. He was clawing at any part of him that he could. He felt so weak and alone, sobbing his heart out on the floor.

He didn’t know exactly how long he spent curled up in a ball beside his desk before he was able to calm his heart rate down enough to process thoughts. He needed someone. He needed someone badly, but the weight of shame kept him seated against the wall.

He wanted to call Changbin and apologize so badly, but with how immature and selfish he had been acting, Chan didn’t deserve the kindness and support the younger boy would inevitably give him. The guilt of how he treated the other boy began to eat away at the shame.

With a spinning head, Chan hoisted himself upwards enough to grab his phone from the top of his desk. The time on the screen read 4:53, and Chan desperately hoped that Changbin was still awake.

Without hesitating enough to psyche himself out, Chan pressed the “call” icon, and waited. He tried to slow down his breathing enough so that Changbin wouldn’t know he was crying.

“What do you want?”

Chan was startled at Changbin’s greeting, almost stuttering his response. “I... I’m sorry,” was all that Chan could manage to say.

“You should be,”

Chan cringed at the bitterness in the other’s voice, but remained calm. “Can you come?” Chan’s voice was shaking slightly, and there was a beat of silence from the other end of the line.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Chan denied, biting down on his closed fist in a sad attempt to stifle the sounds that were threatening to escape from his throat.

“Are you okay? Fuck I was almost home, but I’m coming back, okay? Just wait for me,”

Chan felt another set of hot tears trail down his cheeks, which sucked because he thought he didn’t have any more tears left in him. He wanted Changbin to come back to him, but not because he was afraid that Chan couldn’t handle simple emotions. “Okay,” he answered, and as soon as he felt the tightness in his throat, he hung up the call. Changbin didn’t need to hear him sob.

Chan felt himself start to slip into his spiral again, and slapped himself in the cheeks. He needed it to ground himself.

Just breathe.

Chan counted all of the breaths that he took until Changbin came. He tensed up once he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and a face next to his. He was expecting Changbin to be mad, however the boy keeps surprising him.

There were faint wrinkles of worry on Changbin’s forehead as he held a serious gaze with the blubbering boy in front of him. His touch was irritating to Chan, who shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Changbin whispered, trying to meet Chan’s eyes.

Chan raised his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his abused and stinging eyes. Changbin didn’t have anything to apologize for; it was Chan who was stupidly self-destructive.

Changbin moved so that he was sitting beside Chan, his back against the studio wall. “I was too harsh. I should have been more patient, I know you’re stressed,” he sighed. Of course Changbin had to be an angel.

“You... you were right,” Chan admitted.

“Bang Chan? Admitting I’m right?” Changbin teased, “that’s a first,”

Chan playfully shoved Changbin, and then moved to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. The atmosphere was lighter now that Changbin was there to relieve the pain.

“I should have been a better leader,” Chan whispered, “I’m sorry,”

Changbin surely didn’t miss the way his voice faltered at the end of his statement. Chan felt his eyes get heavier, the post-panic attack fatigue getting to him.

“You’re a fucking amazing leader,” Changbin replied, “I’m sorry for being harsh. Although I am not sorry about telling you off for setting a bad example because I know that you can do better,”

“’S fair,” Chan slurred.

“Look at me,” Chan gave a half-hearted, half-interested moan, “Christopher, I said look at me,” Changbin commanded, grabbing Chan’s chin and bringing it to his face, “You are perfect.”

Chan searched Changbin’s eyes for lies, but was met with nothing but the sincerity of a best friend.

“You are perfection. And I know that whatever you end up doing is going to be perfect,”

Chan smiled at his friend. Even though he could be annoying and naggy, Changbin was always there to pick him up. He was always able to wipe the dirt off of your face when you fell from the high. He didn’t pass judgments.

Chan was stuck in his thoughts until the realization of his reality hit him like a freight train. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled his face away.

“What?”

“The song...” he said, grasping at his desk until he was in a standing position and opening his laptop again.

Changbin stood up too and sighed. “I thought you were going to take it easier from now on,” he whined.

“Fuck no, Changbin,” he said, tiredness still evident in his tone, “it’s gone,”

“It’s gone?” Changbin pulled his seat beside Chan, focusing on the newly opened blank track Chan started.

Chan just nodded as he tried to remember how the song goes. Okay, it was 120bpm tempo... What were the chords that made up the verse? What was the instrument? How did the beat go?

Chan groaned in frustration as he racked his brain.

“We’ve done this before,” Changbin shoved Chan so that he could get a better view of the laptop.

“Huh?”

“You, me and Jisung,” Changbin looked concentrated, “we’ve produced songs in hours. I’m sure we could get something done if we worked together,”

Chan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “I would like that a lot,” he said gratefully.

It was then that Chan realized that maybe some some people could be perfect after all.

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