“You’re being unreasonable. “ Jaehyun says, crossing his arms.
She shrugs, “I disagree.”
He sighs, “Look your Highness-”
“Don’t call me that.” She interrupts, crossing her legs.
“Okay princess.” He drawls sarcastically, “You simply can’t refuse to have a bodyguard without a valid reason.” He sighs.
She cocks her head, raising a eyebrow, “I have a valid reason!” She assures.
“Let’s hear it.” he demands.
“I don’t like your face.” She blurts. He frowns and she crosses her arms to mimic him.
“And you think my face is going to hinder my ability to protect you?” He questions.
“It could!” She assures in a seriousness that almost makes him laugh, “What if you’re looking at your reflection in a store window or your phone screen and someone kidnaps me?” She cries.
“Trust me, they’d bring you back.” He muttered scratching his head.
“I said we’d get you back.” he enunciates, “Our job is to make sure nothing happens to you- for God’s sake I’m a trained professional you can’t just-”
“I don’t need a bodyguard. I don’t even need a guard dog, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself!” She cries in frustration, running her fingers through her hair.
To silence that follows is a mutual agreement for a break- to regroup, relax, grab a glass of water or a snack before they come back to finish the conversation. He sighs, she kicks her feet like she feels guilty for something and looks down at the table. There’s a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that sit kindly beside an economist magazine and a small receipt like checklist of everything she needs to pack.
Her fingers tap at her upper arm and she looks away to the wall to study the paint. He adjusts his suit, tugging at the collar of his shirt, “You’re stuck with me princess.” He says eventually.
Her neck snaps back to look at him. She wrinkles her nose, “Keep your distance.”
She sitting on a smooth wooden bench in the center of the Louvre. The room is empty, cleared by security for her protection and she’s staring at a painting. Its called ‘The Embarkation for Cythera’ and her chin is resting on her fist. One leg is crossed over the other and she quickly adjust the denim skirt she’s wearing. She’s got a brochure in one hand and headphones in her ears where jazz floods her senses.
Jaehyun is a few meters to her left, watching her closely as she stares curiously at the art. She yanks her headphones out, “What?” She snaps, sighing and turning to look at him.
“I didn’t say anything.” He shrugs.
She rolls her eyes, “You’re staring.”
He shrugs again, “That’s my job.”
She shakes her head, “No, your job is to protect me. You could do that from the control room or from the other side of this room but instead you’re stood as close as you can get without it being suspicious and you’re staring.” she explains.
He licks his lips and points to the painting before her, “This is one of my favourite paintings.”
She raises an eyebrow, “So you were staring at the painting?” She asks, knowing full well he wasn’t.
He nods, walking closer to sit on the bench next to her, “Not everything’s about you princess.”
They sit quietly together, neither too bothered to fill the silence. The absence of crowds who discus meaningless matters makes her feel lonely and isolated but she’s learnt to be with herself. “Why did you take this job?” She pipes up, not quite sure why she’s interested.
He cocks his head to look at the painting and licks his lips, “Patriotic duty.”
She laughs, “You’re funny.”
He turns to look at her, “You don’t believe me?”
She scoffs, “I don’t even think you believe you.”
“Okay.” He says carefully, crossing his arms, “Why do you think I took the job?”
She pauses and watches him carefully. She holds up her hand, “I have two theories.” She states.
He smirks, “I’m all ears.”
“the first-” she starts, her posture changing because she’s in her element, “Is that you were bored. You got sick and tired of foreign business men and all that bureaucracy and you heard the rumours.”
He raises an eyebrow, “What rumours?”
“The ones about me.” She says, pointing to herself. He scoffs but she continues, “You heard about the strange princess who doesn’t buy into this whole royalty thing and you were curious.”
“Curious enough to leave the KCIA and baby sit a brat?” He asks sarcastically.
She clicks her fingers, “Or you were fired. I’m still developing some more theories.” she sighs.
He scoffs a laugh, “Yeah well keep looking.”
She sighs again, turning back to the painting. The silence becomes deafening, an unbearable reminder that she’s always alone and completely segregated from the rest of society. He can see the sadness in her eyes, he saw it the moment he met her when she watched her distant family’s children dancing in the gardens of the palace. He sees it every time she has to attend some event or smile at some strangers her parents introduce her to, even sometimes when she watches students on their way to school, laughing with their friends.
“So which one is your favourite painting?” He asks quietly, trying to give her some kind of human interaction before she locks herself in her hotel room.
She swallows, scratching her head, “I hate art.”
He frowns, “Why are you here?”
She shrugs, looking around the room at the different paintings. “I wanted to feel less alone.” she says quietly.
He rolls his eyes, “Yikes, do you ever stop feeling sorry for yourself?” He asks tiredly.
She glares, “Fuck you.”
He shakes his head, “There are many ways to feel less alone, like hookers.” he suggests.
She tries to stay angry but her lips threaten a smile and she looks down at her hands, “You’re funny.” she states once more, but this time he doesn’t think it’s sarcastic.
He points, “You should smile more.”
She waves him off even though he looks smug because he can see her trying not to grin, “Shut up.”
She’s curled against the window with a book half open in her hands and her legs bent against her body. Jaehyun’s sitting in a leather chair nearby, looking around the room while his fingers tap anxiously against the arm of the seat. He sighs loudly, “How long are we going to be here?” he asks.
“How long is a rope?” she retorts, not testing her eyes from the book.
“Long enough to hang myself with.” He replies.
“Oh, boo-hoo, your life is so miserable.” She says sarcastically, turning a page.
He sighs again, glancing around the room. The building has high ceilings with shelves the reach as high as they can. Books are in piles on coffee table before leather chairs and large windows let in light to show dust over some of them. He pushes some aside with his feet, distantly curious but barely caring enough to sit up properly. He glances at her, “What are you reading?” He asks in an attempt to appease his boredom.
She sighs, “It’s called Man’s Search For Meaning.”
He cocks his head, “Is it a self help book?” He mocks.
She scoffs, “You’re an idiot.”
He rolls his eyes, “You’re mean.” he points out.
“No.” She begins, “I dislike persistent human interaction, something I cannot get away from as long as you continue to be present in my life because your contract says you need to shadow me 24/7” she hisses.
There’s a pause and he points to her, “Mean.” He repeats.
She rolls her eyes.
He watches her read, the light from the window falling on her face like she’s waking up from a dream and her hair is tucked behind her ear. She flicks through the book like she’s hungry for some kind of intellect she can’t find in her everyday world and she bites her lip when she concentrates. “You’re staring again.” She states, not looking up from the pages.
He clicks his tongue, “I like the view.”
She looks up and raises and eyebrow, “Excuse me?”
He points to the window that overlooks le canal saint martin where trees grow along the pavement and provide shade to couples who sit on benches and watch the water flow. “Paris is beautiful.” He states with a smirk.
She rolls her eyes, “It’s famous for that.”
He cocks his head, “So are you.”
She sighs loudly and lays the book down against her lap. “Are you flirting with me?” She asks carefully.
He shrugs, “You’re pretty, we’re in Paris, might as well make the most of a bad situation.” he crosses his arms.
She shakes her head, “Your job is to protect me, not take me out.”
He sighs loudly, a grunt emitting from his throat, “Buzzkill.”
She stares at him a little longer, “You’re so unprofessional, there is no way you can protect me more than I can myself.”
“Wanna bet?” He replies without a beat.
“Do I get to go back to reading if I agree?” she says tiredly, rubbing her eyes.
He nods, “Pinky promise.”
She smirks slightly, “What’s the bet?”
He points to her, “You get a point every time you don’t need me, I get a point every time you do.”
She smiles, “You’re on.”
They’re sitting in a red leather booth by the window. The floor is tiled black and white and there’s a rainbow coloured juke box in a corner where a Beatles song is playing over the speakers. She’s scarfing down a burger and the fluorescent lighting from the diner stings her eyes, it’s a contrast from the darkness outside. Jaehyun sits opposition her with his arms crossed to match the boredom on his face.
she glances at him, “Don’t look so glum.” she giggles with a childlike grin.
“You’re drunk.” he points out.
She giggles again, slurping from her milkshake and crossing a leg over the other. She’s wearing his jacket because she didn’t have one of her own and the velvet dress was too thin to keep any heat in. “You’re a buzzkill.” she retorts.
He purses his lips, “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m a princess.” She reminds, wagging her finger back and forth.
He rolls his eyes, “You snuck out and went clubbing.”
She shrugs, “I like the music.” But her lip lifts into a smirk and he knows she’s still sober enough to be herself.
“You can’t ditch your security.” He repeats for what feels like the hundredth time.
She shakes her head, “I think you’ll find that I can, and I did.”
“It’s dangerous.” He enunciates, leaning forward.
She scoffs and waves him off, “The only dangerous thing about tonight is the blister on my foot.”
“Or-” he Interrupts, snatching her milkshake and taking a gulp, “The guy who followed you to the club, the one who nearly slipped something into your drink and the one who tried to hit on you.”
She frowns, “You’re the one who followed me to the club, you’re saying I was in danger of you?”
He pauses, narrowing his eyes, “You knew?” He asks.
She breathes a laugh, “Of course I knew, and what was wrong with the guy who tried to hit on me?” she adds absentmindedly, finally finishing off her burger.
He raises an eyebrow, “Really?” She just stares so he sighs and points to his wrist, “Gang tat on his arm.”
“Oh, a bad boy.” She giggled again, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
“A very bad boy.” He reminds.
She smiles like he’s the funniest guy on earth and he tries his best not to stare too long because she really is very beautiful. She picks up the menu again, scanning through the options, glancing at him every few seconds. She hesitates, opens her mouth a few times but doesn’t say anything.
She folds the menu and puts it down, “I have another theory.” She states.
He narrows his eyes, “Alright.” He nods.
She licks her lips and crosses her arms “You’re running away from something.”
He cocks his head and she thinks she’s getting somewhere, “Continue.”
She shrugs, “That’s all I’ve got. Maybe you fucked up, hurt someone or got hurt- I’ve seen the scar on your hip.”
His arms instinctively tighten together and he wrinkles his nose, “You been checking me out?” He smirks, trying to deflect.
She shrugs again, “I like the view.”
“Now princess, are you flirting with me?” he questions, leaning forward in his seat and pressing his forearms into the table.
He’s got this smile on his face like he knows what she’s going to say. She smiles back, like they’re drunk idiots at 4am eating junk food somewhere in the middle of new York. She wipes her lip with her thumb and rest her elbows on the table, her head resting in her hands. They’re close enough that she’s pretty sure he can heart her heart slamming against her rib cage, “You’re beautiful.” She murmurs.
He cocks his head, his hand reaching out and pushing the hair away from her face. He tucks it behind her ear and she sighs, closing her eyes, “You’re drunk.” He says sadly.
She giggles, only making everything crash down around them much faster, “‘Yes I’m drunk, and you’re beautiful. And tomorrow I’ll be sober-’”
“‘And you’ll still be beautiful.’” he finishes. He sighs, letting his hand drop, “Its late princess, let’s get you home.”
She smiles again when she sees his cheeks flushed red and as he leads her out of the diner, his hand is on the small of her back, trying to keep her steady. He tries his best not to touch her for too long in case he kisses her but he helps her climb into the car and she holds onto his hand a little too tight like she doesn’t want to let go of him.
She’s panting, sweat dripping down her forehead and her shirt clings to her body. She takes a swig of her water bottle and wipes her cheek, trying to cool herself down. She looks over the cliff, staring down into what seems like the abyss and smiles. She’s trekked all this distance, wading through the dirt and gravel and the grass that scratches her ankles while the sun beat down on her skin.
“I didn’t take you for a hiking person.” Jaehyun huffs out.
She chugs a gulp of water and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “I wanted to try something new.”
He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, knowing full well she did it to get some space and, and sighs, “Right.”
“Anyway-” She shrugs, stepping over a rock, “This is fun.”
“Oh yeah, 1000° of fun.” he mocks sarcastically, wiping his forehead.
She scoffs, “I didn’t take you for a whiner.” She mutters.
He smirks, “Sexually or just in general?”
“You’re hilarious.” She says breathlessly, placing her hands on her hips as she stands straight, trying to get some air into her lungs. He keeps walking as she looks at the distant view of the city.
“You need to stop princess?” Jaehyun calls from ahead.
She swallows, looking up at him and shakes her head with a grin, “Not a chance.” She assures, jogging to catch up with him.
He’s not in his suit for once. They’re both in workout gear, trainers and T-shirts and sweat all over their bodies but they’re both smiling at each other as they continue to hike up the sandy hill. “I have a question.” he breathes heavily.
She keeps walking, “Okay.”
He takes a gulp of water, “Why are you off gallivanting the world with no specific purpose?”
“I have a purpose.” She points out nonchalantly.
“Care to share?” he asks curiously.
She shrugs, “I want to gallivant the world.”
He nods, “That’s a good argument.” He points out, almost impressed.
But he’s got this tone to his voice that makes her eyes narrow, “But you don’t believe me.” She states, wiping the sweat from her forehead again.
He smirks, “I don’t even think you believe you.”
She shrugs and keeps walking, “Okay, what do you think my purpose for doing all of this is?” she asks tiredly.
He follows after her, still sweating from everywhere, “I have one theory.” He states.
“Only one?” She replies, raising an eyebrow.
He sighs disappointingly, “Yes sorry, only one.”
She smiles softly, “Let’s hear it.” She orders.
He stops, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips. He pants through his words and she stops next to him. “I think you’re running away from something.”
He waits for a reaction that never comes, she just keeps panting, stays silent and tries to regain her breath. She swallows, hands on her knees and shakes her head, “Aren’t we all?” She responds, standing upright and staring at him. “And that’s not a very original theory, I seem to remember using it myself.” She reminds.
He cocks his head, “And now you’re deflecting.”
She smirks, “Well aren’t you a smart one.” She says sarcastically with no tone of anger in her voice which tells him she’s not upset he’s starting to figure her out, maybe because she doesn’t think he’ll get very far.
“I think you don’t want to be queen, or princess even.” He adds, “I think this is your way of experiencing life outside of that.”
She almost rolls her eyes, “A child could have diagnosed that.” she starts to walk up the hill again, lugging her body up the steep slope.
He raises an eyebrow, “Diagnosed?” He calls after her.
“Yeah” she calls back, “It’s called the grass is always greener on the other side or um… wanting what you can’t have?” but there’s a hint of bitterness to her voice and he knows she’s annoyed.
“And what you want is a normal life.” He states.
She narrows her eyes and stops walking, her hands on her hips. She takes a deep breath and sighs. She hesitates telling him, she’s not the kind to complain but she feels like he needs to understand her. She swallows, “You’ve seen my life; the glitz and glam and everything that goes on behind it. I was never in line for the throne so for a while, I knew what it was like to have none of that. I went to school, I was a bartender i…” She pauses, her eyebrows furrowed like she really needs an honest answer. “I never wanted to be princess, and then suddenly my uncle dies and my mum becomes… I’m thrown into this limelight, I had no choice in that!” She says louder, like she’s getting riled up, “I thought I could get used to it, if I pretend enough it’ll become reality right?” She takes a breath, looking away from him and watching the birds fly over the distant cliffs, “But I know this isn’t where I’m supposed to be.” she mutters.
He cocks his head, “You’re thinking about this the wrong way.” He points out, moving to stand closer to her. “We’re in the 21st century, you can be anything you want. You can be princess and have a job, you can go to school and rule a country. The possibilities are limitless! You could buy your own bar and work for yourself.” He pauses, “People look up to you princess. Show them what you got.”
She smiles softly, feeling uplifted into a new realm of thought. But she doesn’t tell him, only shoves him away with a giggle and takes off running towards the summit of the cliff- “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” she cries behind her.
Jae smiles softly and shakes his head, this girl.
(She beats him, she thinks that deserves a point no matter what)
The Blue Pool (1911). Augustus Edwin John (Welsh, 1878-1961). Oil on panel. Aberdeen Art Gallery & Museums.
“Augustus was celebrated first for his brilliant figure drawings, and then for a new technique of oil sketching. His work was favourably compared in London with that of Gauguin and Matisse. He then developed a style of portraiture that was imaginative and often extravagant, catching an instantaneous attitude in his subjects.”
They laid face to face in the bed, sheets twisted mostly around her ankles, his body bare to her. A knee drawn up. His arm extended towards her so that his fingers played with the ends of her hair. Brushing the strands against the tops of her breasts as he talked.
“I got turned around,” he was saying. His face was so animated when he was honest with her. “I’m better with words-” Here he chuffed at himself, shrugged in the bed. “-obviously, I am, twenty-six bestsellers, but I mean, when I’m told, with words, point blank, no beating around the bush.”
“Direct,” she supplied. “I’m - that’s what I suck at. According to my therapist.”
He laughed, and she stiffened, but his knee came up and knocked into hers. “According to everyone, Beckett, you suck at being direct with your emotions. I believe Espo has called it ‘close to the vest.’”
“How kind,” she muttered.
“But you’re talking to me now.” Her hair was brushed against her chin; he was grinning. “You’re ridiculously in love with me.”
She laughed, but her cheeks were burning. She caught his hand and tugged, but all she managed was to drag herself forward into him.
“I’m not wrong,” he said, grumbling a little but his eyes were still amused. Kind. He had such a beautiful smile when it was real; she hadn’t often seen it these days.
“Missed your smile,” she sighed, touching his lips with two fingers. The heat in her face burned higher. “Stupid. Never mind-”
“I got turned around,” he husked. His hand curved around hers, hung on. “I got twisted up, Kate.”
“No, don’t just… talk to me.”
She let out a shaky breath, curling her hand into the protection of his. “I wasn’t. I’m not. I mean, I can talk to you. I am talking. I promise.”
“I thought we said,” she choked out. “I thought it was clear. We talked that day at the swings and you came back.”
“I know,” he sighed.
“I was just trying to - be more than this, wanted to be more than busted up and walled off before we… but I’m sorry, you’re stuck with my neurotic fucked up-”
“When I said talk,” he interrupted, so grave, “I didn’t mean you could talk like that about yourself.”
She stared at him, too astonished to go on.
“If I made you feel that, I’m sorry. Neurotic? You?”
“Com-complicated,” she whispered.
His face blanked. But she knew him now; she had seen his face when he loved her, and this was panic in love.
“She messaged you at breakfast,” Kate added weakly.
“She did?” His surprise was organic, and he actually reached past her to pluck his phone off the bedside table.
He saw her face and dropped his phone. “Oh. That’s. Oh.”
Wide eyes. “I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to-” He closed his mouth, stared at her.
“You hurt my feelings,” she growled.
He laughed, a little plosive from his lips, but he was shaking his head and reaching in to snag her by the arm before she could climb out of bed. “No, not - I’m just surprised, pleasantly surprised by the fact that you just told me. Words. Like I said, right, telling me directly.”
Her nostrils flared; she gave a half-hearted struggle.
“Kate. I’m sorry. My intention was not to hurt your feelings. It was thoughtless. I was only - she borrowed my car. We didn’t have sex. It was just-” He stopped, watching her. A helplessness in his face.
She tried to think, not react, not be so - so messed up. “Don’t apologize for her,” she said finally. “I’m not - that’s… God, Rick, if we have to go back and start enumerating our sins, I’m gonna be here all week confessing.” She tried to make that all of it. She had made mistakes too; she had lost the faith. But it burst out of her mouth in a rush. “But why would you answer her text in bed with me?”
His hands caught hers even as she tried to hide her face. Pulled her arms down, hands clasped between his. “Because you’ve made me confident in you,” he said. He kissed her knuckles, the impression of his lips to her fingers. “Because it’s obvious I love you, it’s all over my face, it’s pressed into your body from mine, it’s in the space between us that isn’t space any longer.” His kiss trailed to her wrist, lingering, before his head lifted to give her his undivided attention. “Because what can possibly compare to you?”
She still felt the burn of his lips at her wrist where her heart was doing its mad and desperate pulse.
Summary: Feelings are revealed when Jack and (Y/N) spend the weekend at her others house back in the countryside.
Dedicated too: The anon who requested this, it was so so fun to write so thank you so much xo
“Have you finished your vlog yet, love?” (Y/N) asks quietly as Jack walks into the living room. She stands up and walks toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head onto his chest as he brushes his hand down her hair and tilts her head up. Their eyes meet and she smiles adoringly, counting the colours of his eyes. “Hi.”
He tilts his head to the side and smiles, leaning down to press his lips against hers for a few seconds before pulling away away and pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes. “Hi.”
“Did you remember to finish your vlog?” She asks again, her voice softer than usual as she tried to keep the atmosphere as relaxing as possible. Being loud seemed unnatural in that moment, so the words they shared were lulling and quiet.
They were spending the weekend at (Y/N)’s mums house, and Jack had decided that since you were gonna be showing him around the place you grew up and he was seeing everything form your past for the first time, that he wanted to document it all. That day, she’d taken him to see her old secondary school, and gone on to show him all of her hiding spots where she and her friends would stay if they wanted to bunk classes. It’d been a day full of laughs and Jack teasing her about how much of a ‘bad girl’ she used to be; but now it was almost eleven pm and they were both beginning to get sleepy.
When he nods, she smiles and entwines their hands, taking a step back and tugging him along with her. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”
Jack frowns in confusion but allows her to tug him up the stairs toward her bedroom, his eyes flicking from the photographs on the walls to the shelves of trophies and medals. She lets their hands fall apart and nods toward the window with a small smirk. “How good are you at climbing?”
His eyes wander to the large window that she was stood beside, and he scrunches up his face nervously. “If I say I’m shit, will I not have to do it?”
“That isn’t how it works.” She grins, holding out her hand and nodding toward the window. “Come on, I promise that once we’re up there you won’t regret it.”
And she was right. After following her lead and managing to climb onto the roof without an issue, the view was beautiful. One of the perks of living in the country side was the fact that there was hardly any light pollution during the night, barely anything compared to London: and so the stars were visible in the sky and the moon was their only source of light.
They sit with (Y/N) between Jack’s legs and her head resting on his chest, simply inhaling the fresh air and basking in the scent of freshly cut grass. The small lights from surrounding houses were comforting, and the way Jack’s arms wrapped themselves around her waist made her sink into him with a happy sigh. “You know, I used to spend hours up here when I was younger. Used to lock my bedroom door so my mum couldn’t walk in and realise I wasn’t there.” She purses her lips and smiles. “God, I drank my first bottle of vodka up here.”
Jack chuckles, resting his chin on the tip of her head and running his hands up and down her sides. “You really were a rebel, huh?”
She giggles and throws her head back, closing her eyes when he places a chaste kiss on her lips and sighing happily thereafter. “One day, I want to move back here. Maybe once I’ve got a family, and I’ll have a huge dog and two kids and maybe I’ll have stables a-”
“We’ll.” Jack interrupts, causing her eyes to flutter open in confusion. “When we have a family, when we have a big dog and two two kids and stables for our horses and a lock on every single window so that our kids can’t sneak onto the roof and drink vodka like their badass mum used to.”
She sits up on her knees and turns to face him, still between his legs as she furrows her eyebrows in confusion but can’t keep the overjoyed smile off of her face. “You want that- with me, I mean?”
He nods, a look of disbelief on his face as he cups her cheeks in his hands. “You thought I didn’t?”
She shrugs and shakes her head, glancing down and blinking quickly to keep her emotional tears at bay. “You grew up in Brighton, and you adore London. I can’t take you away from that.”
“Baby, you wouldn’t be 'taking me away’. You’d be giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. A family, and beautiful kids who’ll have the most amazing, fun parents possible.”
She sniffs and wipes a stray tear away from her cheek, laughing a little and staring at him with a smile. “Fuck, do you have any idea how much I love you?”
Wiping her eyes with her thumbs, he watches in adoration as she leans into his touch and pulls her lips between her teeth, a habit she’d picked up after him do it whenever he was happy about something. This was the girl he’d fallen for; her face free from any trace of makeup and his clothes hanging loosely on her significantly smaller frame. Her hair was in two loose French plaits and she had dark circles beneath her eyes due to the fact that they’d stayed up until three am the previous night; but she was still the most beautiful human being he’d ever played eyes upon.
“Enough to marry me?”
Her eyes widen and her breath gets caught in her throat, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “Jack-”
“I know it’s not ideal, this isn’t how I wanted to ask you; but this is perfect. We’re gonna have a family, a future together; and I can’t imagine not being married to you when that time comes.” He says, looking down for a second before looking back up into her tear flooded eyes and smiling softly. “Be my wife?”
“As if I’d ever say no,” she says, her voice cracking midway through as she flung herself into his arms and presses her lips against his, laughing against them when he got thrown back against the roof with a crash.
This was their future: and they could hardly wait to see what surprises it’d bring.
how does reading London Spy compare to watching it?
Oh my gosh, it’s so much more. Most scripts, especially screenplays, have a little more information in them to help contextualize scenes. Like they’ll have a little bit of description to the action (”ANNE smiles, pained”) or a line about the setting (”A mid-town highrise, dawn. Taxis can be heard in the distance”). Sometimes they’ll even carry context in the way lines are written that is meant to influence how the line is said (”ANNE pauses. If you like. (beat) That is to say…. [she trails off, flustered]”).
By comparison, TRS has no chill. You get background descriptions of how Danny is basically a gay club socialite who can skip the line at clubs and not even the people in line care. Danny has to dig through the drugs bag in his cigarette wrapper before he can find his crumpled half cigarette. Alex knows Danny is high af when they meet and doesn’t judge, just gives him his sports drink so he won’t die. In one of the (six) forewords, TRS says he’s lived with these characters and he’ll miss them, and you can really feel how much thought has gone into every single second of every scene. There’s more story, more character, more everything in the spaces between the lines even than the lines themselves show.
TRS is a writer first and foremost: it’s all there in the script, to the point that you don’t even need the film or tv show at all.
“Augustus was celebrated first for his brilliant figure drawings, and then for a new technique of oil sketching. His work was favourably compared in London with that of Gauguin and Matisse. He then developed a style of portraiture that was imaginative and often extravagant, catching an instantaneous attitude in his subjects.”
CBC: In minds of Virtue and Moir, Olympics have already begun
Scott Moir used to be able to blend in during wing night at your typical Ilderton, Ont., establishment. But when the three-time world ice dance champion was back in his hometown a couple of weeks ago, everyone wanted to talk figure skating.
Five months out from the Pyeongchang Games, Moir said he can already feel the Olympic buzz.
Moir and partner Tessa Virtue look to reclaim Olympic gold in February in South Korea in one final season before they retire. The veterans attended Skate Canada’s traditional season-opening high performance camp on Wednesday, and talked about the immense Olympic hype that’s waits just around the corner.
“We’re in a pressure-filled sport for sure, but anything in an Olympic season is heightened, the highs are higher and the lows are lower, and everything just takes on grander proportions,” Virtue said. “So we have to be ready for that, and I think experience will serve us well, but it’s about managing that energy, and managing expectations, both outside and even more so what we want of ourselves.”
“And that’s where it comes from… the expectations you have on yourself in an Olympic year, the highs are so high and the lows are the end of the world,” Moir added.
The two captured gold at the 2010 Vancouver Games but had to settle for silver in 2014, and after a two-year competitive hiatus, returned with a vengeance last season hell-bent on reclaiming the top spot on the podium. Virtue and Moir went undefeated last season, capturing their third world title in Helsinki in March.
The Canadians will compete with a bull’s-eye on their back, but it’s a target they welcome.
“We like that challenge, it’s been a big motivator for us,” Moir said. “We know how hard it is to win after we’ve won, and it’s been a good motivator this year. (But) we don’t need motivation, this Olympic season we’re just trying to control our emotions more so than find motivation. We’re thinking about it every day and that’s already started, it’s so funny how quick you’re going to bed every night dreaming of the Olympics, it’s already begun.”
While the temperature climbed to 25 C outside Mississauga’s Hershey Centre on Wednesday, it might as well have been winter inside as the Canadian team skated their programs under the discerning eyes of judges and coaches.
Virtue and Moir are excited to unveil their free dance to music from Baz Luhrmann’s “Moulin Rouge,” the 2001 movie starring Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor.
It was one of the rare times the ice dancers insisted on a particular piece of music. Virtue said there was “no other option.”
“We knew that we felt this so much and loved this so much, that was nothing that could compare,” said the London, Ont., native.
“We really love it, and skating to it feels special. I don’t know what it will look like, might be a complete mess,” Moir laughed. “But I can tell you that we’re having a blast while we do it, and we feel a special connection to it and hopefully that will show through.”
Cathedrals typically take a long time to build. Notre Dame de Paris took about 80 years, St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome about 120 years, and St. Paul’s in London a comparatively brisk 35 years. Impressively, Hagia Sophia was completed within 5 years.
The HC behind it is that William lost his “virginity” to a girl (a female reaper, she was a sweetheart.) when he was sent to the French Reaper Dispatch in Paris in 1806. Compared to the London Division where the reaping retrieval employees are males, the French Dispatch consists of female Reapers mostly. They had serious issues with understaffing due to the Wars of Coalition against Napoleon’s French Empire which killed up to 2 million people in Austria, Great Britain, France and Germany.
William was sent to the Division because he was considered to be the only one capable enough for the task. He lived in Paris for 4 years to take the lead for the French Management Division after the former chef unfortunately got attacked and killed by demons.
Her name was Desiree Lefevre, a Reaper from the Retrieval Division of Paris. She was a professional, responsible soul collector, wearing thick white rimmed glasses and wielded a jig saw death scythe. William somehow admired her. They were slightly drunk when they had sex and they both were missing their beloved ones in other Divisions. William didn’t think too much about it, he and Grell were not in a relationship anyway at this time and he actually considered this first experience as helpful for later when he wanted to date Grell for real. It gave him more self-confidence.
In these 4 years it was fairly obvious that William and Grell never had any serious dates because of their jobs, lack of time and his position as supervisor. They saw each other once when Grell visited him in Paris for a week, but she soon noticed that William didn’t really focus on her and his thoughts were always absent. Grell is clever enough to realize when William has internal struggles, and she started to talk to him about what bothered him so much. Grell found out the truth about William and Desiree and left Paris the next day with a broken heart.
It was clear that working as a Reaper during war times like these is just plain hard and exhausting. Both physically and mentally and this brought William and Desiree together for a while. More for relaxation, to clear their minds, than for personal benefits.
He went back after the third War of Coalition was over. Desiree encouraged William to date Grell for serious, that he should show her how much he wants her, because the red Reaper had been his only one and true love. Always.
America’s Lost City — Cahokia and the Mound Builders
Long before Europeans first explored and settled the new world, what is now the United States was a host to a wide variety of rich, sophisticated, and vibrant cultures. One of the most interesting were the Mississippian Mound builders, a culture that stretched from Illinois and Indiana, throughout the Mississippi River region, and as far south as the Gulf Coast. Unlike most native cultures of the US and Canada, the Mississippians were unique in that they developed a society governed by centralized authority (a king or chief), built large cities and population centers, and conducted large scale engineering and agriculture. The center of Mississippian culture revolves around mound building. Usually the center of a Mississippian town or city was a large earthwork pyramid or platform which served as a religious and governmental center.
Of all Mississippian population centers, the largest was a city called Cahokia, located in southern Illinois across the Mississippi River from St. Louis, MI. Settled around 600 AD, the city covered 6 square miles and featured 120 mounds of various sizes and shapes. The largest is “Monks Mound”, a large terraced earthwork 100 feet high and with a base similar in size to the Great Pyramid of Giza (13.1 acres).
At its height around 1200 AD, Cahokia is estimated to have had a population of around 40,000 making it one of the largest cities in the world. At that time Cahokia was comparable in population to London (40,000) and Venice (45,000), while Rome (20,000) was significantly smaller.
Like Ancient Rome, Cahokia is special in that all roads, or perhaps I should say rivers, led to it. From 900 to 1200 AD Cahokia served as a primary trading center in what is now the United States. As a result Cahokian trade goods can be found all over the Central United States. Some of the most popular goods traded were metal goods, as Cahokia was one of the few cultures north of Meso-America to practice the art and science of metal working. Most Cahokian metal work consists of copper items, many of which show incredible artistry and craftsmanship.
The decline of Cahokia began around 1,300. Historians cite a number of reasons for the decline, including climate change, the use of unsustainable agricultural methods, poor waste disposal systems, political instability, famine, disease, and warfare. As Cahokia declined so too did the culture of the Mississippian mound builders. By the time Columbus “discovered” America, the city was abandoned. The Mississippian culture itself broke down, its people forming the many tribes that inhabit the south such as the Alabama, Apalachee, Caddo, Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Muscogee, Creek, Guale, Hitchiti, Houma, Kansa, Missouria, Mobilian, Natchez, Osage, Quapaw, Seminole, Tunica-Biloxi,Yamasee, and Yuchi.
Today Cahokia is a National Historic Landmark, Illinois State Historic Site, and one of 21 UN World Heritage Sites in the United States.
So today I paid a cheeky (free!) visit to the Natural History Museum (perks of living in London) and loved looking at the hugely diverse range of skeletons displayed in the natural world. Having spent the past few weeks hunched over my anatomy book it was great to get out and have a look at how the skeletons of dogs, sheep, pigs, horses and cows relate to that of dinosaurs, tortoises, crocodiles and other crazy critters.
One of our tutorials over the anatomy topic was about comparing the skeletal anatomy of a bird to that of a dog. It was really interesting so I thought I’d share with you a few of the differences in their skeletal make-up and why this has occurred. Have a look at the pictures before you read on and come up with a few ideas yourself. There are so many differences but I’ll outline a few key ones.
Bird have more cervical (neck) vertebrae. This gives them a long, mobile neck to aid with balance and help keep an eye out for predators. Almost all mammals have only 7 cervical vertebrae.
Birds have an extremely large sternum. This provides a large attachment site for muscles involved in flight.
Birds have less bones than dogs as many of them have fused. This gives the bird a more lightweight skeleton perfect for flight. They also have pneumatic (hollow) bones. Fused bones include their phalanges (if you look, you can see at the end of the dog’s limbs they have lots of ‘fingers’ whereas the birds forelimb does not) as well as the vertebrae around their trunk and hips. They also possess a beak instead of a jaw. This again is more lightweight lacking teeth. A bird’s skull represents less than 1% of it’s overall body weight! A dog’s jaw is strong with large teeth for grabbing prey, tearing meat and crushing bones.
If you look closely at the bird’s ribs you’ll not only notice they have less (again making them lighter), but also they have bony sections protruding from them, almost joining them together. This gives extra protection and strength during flight, as a lot of force reaches the fragile bones.
The bird’s pelvis has a different anatomical arrangement, presumably for egg laying.
The digits of the bird’s hind limb are arranged differently to enable perching.
A dog has a long tail which aids balance when chasing prey. The bird has a shortened tail bone helping feathers act as a rudder during flight due to the way they attach.
Dogs no longer have a clavicle (collar bone). Some breeds still possess one but it is hugely reduced and vestigial (useless). Birds have a clavicle (also referred to as a wishbone) which braces the wings apart and is another site for muscle and tissue attachment.
You may notice the dog and bird shoulder blades (scapulas) look very different. The dog’s has a spine for muscle attachment that aid the locomotion of the forelimb. A bird’s scapula is orientated differently and extends down the body, as the limbs are orientated differently too.
You said "simply makes sense to be happy when you’re close to the one you love" and that is the pure truth. Many don't want to see it in Jamie's case because of Dakota but if they think objectively the truth is right there. If they don't want to compare London to LA then they can do it with Ireland which again proves your point. Most of the times Jamie is there he seems happy & relaxed, that is because he is in a healthy environment with people he likes being around, even if those are only fans
So true. His ‘Ireland’ pics are awesome. Plain facts, and as you said ‘objectively’.
Wherever you feel great and at ease, is home to you.
I felt the need to bring up David Bowie in my conversation with Chris back when I met him in 2013 . Regarding the glam side of IAMX ,the glitter , the makeup and how it all reminded me of the early Ziggy Stardust era . He smiled and kind of agreed with all I was stating…. but we quickly moved on to Prince ( lol)
Anyway next to Chris , David was it for me. He inspired my art , shaped my fashion and taught me all I know about music and surprisingly film ….
Physically , in certain angles and light , I have always seen a resemblance between Bowie and Corner. From their sharp jaw lines to their thin crooked smiles. Not to mention the similarities between their glamorous fashion , extravagant make up and androgynous style . As for the music they are both unique in their own ways.
Regardless of past interviews the early Bowie years had a huge effect on Chris and his art there is no denying that .