life's so fun !

Anastasia (1997) dir. Don Bluth & Gary Goldman

All eyes were on the pair as they made their way to where they would be spending their evening. Some gave respectful looks to their leader while others called not so respectful things towards Winnie. Björn made no move to try and speak over them and reassure Winnie that it would not happen again, he did not see the point. Her future would partially stem from moments like this and moments where she needed to decide to behave or rebel. Once they reached the home he claimed as his for their stay he opened the door and waved her inside, waving a hand at his kin to signal his retreat for the night before stepping inside and shutting the door. He didn't bother locking it, there would be individuals guarding the building all night. A small fire burned in the hearth to keep the place warm while Björn shed his mantle and tossed it to a nearby chair. "You don't need to look so fearful, Winnie, you look like an animal who knows they're about to be traded. I have no plans on doing that to you anytime soon."

she trails dutifully next to him, head held high and eyes glued to the road ahead of them. ironically enough she feels most at home here: glaring eyes traveling after her, raised voices of outrage at the sight of her. this is nothing new. what is new is that there are no hungry hands attempting to claim a piece of her and it occurs to her that perhaps she will be safe from that by björn's side. though this also means that no one will keep her safe from him. she can only hope he proves to be the lesser of two evils. she steps into the home, legs trembling slightly as her eyes dart over the interior. « forgive me. i am attempting to gauge whether that is a good thing or not, » she states, turning to face him. it is unwise to keep challenging him this way, but she hopes it will make her undesirable. it is not lost on her that they are to spend the night here, together. she knows what that entails, has offered her body for less. « whether i'd be safe by your side. from you. »

he is deeply, hopelessly in love with winnie. it’s a truth he has known for so long that he’s brushed aside every match his parents have ever placed before him. samuel will not marry. he will not marry unless it is to winnie. but how can he bring her into such a cruel world? a world where whispers would follow her wherever her graceful footsteps carried her? and yet, how can he live with himself knowing that the cruel hands of fate ( or of men ) still have their grasp on her? the bruises that scatter her body a painful reminder of the devastation winnie endures daily. and, oh, how he desires winnie. wishes he could write poetry on her skin with the brush of his lips, but he cannot treat her the way other men do. he must be honorable ( no matter how much his body aches to betray him ). as she joins him on the bed, samuel feels his heart race - - a rhythm winnie wrote for him when their eyes first met. sorrow fills brown eyes when he sees the purple on her fair skin, “oh, love. can i…can i make you a cold compress?” could he erase time, rewrite history, and save her? “i enjoy my conversations with you. i find myself looking forward to them,” he smiles ear to ear. and - - before samuel can blink, her hand is on his chest and he feels time stop. can she feel how fast his heart is pounding fiercely beneath her touch? “then i shall stay,” he murmurs, his gaze finding winnie’s and refusing to waver. something bold unfurls within him. “might i kiss you, winnie?” warmth rushes to his cheeks, and for a moment, he feels almost shy.

SHE KNOWS BETTER THAN to feel sorry for herself. she has already spent far too many years cursing her own existence, watching those far better off than her walk in and out of this establishment, knowing she will never be fortunate enough to leave. it is foolish to hold onto hope otherwise, and yet hope is the one thing that keeps her going: the hope that samuel may visit again, that he may stay longer this time, that he'll think of her when he leaves. everything else has been a rather small price to pay since he started coming around to her chambers, staying long into the morning hours — or at the very least until her next visitor arrives. she is always shameful when she watches him leave, knowing she will never fit into that world. and even if she did, he is young and handsome, and she has no doubts that women far superior to her already have their heart set on him. to them she is not competition. to them she may not even exist at all. « there is no use, my lord. he will be back in the morrow, » she counters sadly, but offers him a reassuring smile, the beating of his heart beneath her touch grounding her in this very moment. his question catches her off guard — no one has ever asked her this before. for a moment all she can do is stare incredulously, mouth slightly agape, before she melts completely by this request. it is becoming increasingly harder to believe he holds no affection for her, but it is also hopeless to believe he does. « nothing would please me more, my lord, » she beams at him, turning to face him completely. « you may always kiss me. whenever it pleases you. »

LOVE BETWEEN LINES 軋戲 (2026) — What are you doing out here by yourself? There's too many people inside. It's stuffy.

⏤ The Map That Leads To You

look,  she's  not  going  to  outright  call  him  a  loser  —  but  henry  is  certainly  a  bit  more  rigid  than  she's  used  to.  uptight  at  a  glance,  which  equated  to  boring  in  kaia's  faulty  judgment.  "well,  don't  sound  so  touchy  already,"  she  mumbles,  crossing  her  arms.  kaia  almost  wonders  how  wrong  it  would  be  position  him  directly  in  their  families'  line  of  sight  while  she  makes  a  run  for  it.  but  it  occurs  to  her,  mostly  due  to  his  own  lingering  gaze,  that  he  doesn't  want  to  be  here  either.  at  least  they  have  that  much  in  common,  even  if  it  seems  to  be  the  only  thing.  while  he's  standing  up  straight,  she's  half  slouching  over,  heaving  on  the  bartop  with  one  palm  to  the  cheek.  "oh  god,  but  what  if  i  die  of  boredom?  i  mean  ...  no  offense.  you  seem  like  a  nice  guy.  but  you  could  at  least  have  a  drink.  it'll  do  wonders  for  those  knots  in  your  shoulders,"  she  points,  ever  so  eloquent,  dangling  her  glass  in  front  of  him.

AS IF IT'S NOT STRESSFUL enough having to worry about putting up the perfect act himself, henry looks at kaia now and sees an assignment. he's not sure how he's supposed to balance networking with potential partners as well as babysitting some woman he barely knows. « i know how to perform cpr. unfortunately i'm gonna have to keep you alive, » he jokes, but his voice remains flat, uninspired. all of this feels like a waste of time when he could be in the office instead, doing something fruitful on a friday evening. he only realizes now, looking at her, how sad that thought echoes through him. they should be enjoying this, but henry's not sure he knows how to do that. « how about i keep sober so you can keep drinking ? » he offers instead, gaze resting upon her, narrowing slightly. « my shoulders are fine, thanks for the concern. and we only have to stay past the dinner, okay ? we can leave under the pretense of having hit it off and as soon as we're out those doors you can go do whatever and our parents will be none the wiser. we can use this, you know. »

he  can't  help  but  feel  she  looks  familiar  —  though  memory  usually  consisted  of  what  impertinent  to  remember  versus  the  mundane.  a  strange  sense  of  deja  vu  halts  him,  which  is  the  only  reason  he'd  fess  up  to  the  staring.  everett  was  simply  just  distracted,  it  wasn't  weird.  he  wasn't  weird.  though  she  already  feels  much  more  adept  at  this  whole  thing  than  him,  a  testament  to  overgrown  limbs  held  together  by  an  awkward  stature.  "no.  me?  i  don't  stare,  i  was  ...  uh,  looking  at  the  fella  behind  you."  a  man  who  could  very  well  pass  as  his  father  nursing  his  fifth?  sixth?  whiskey.  "sewage,  of  course,  super  normal  bar  topics.  should  we  get  crazy  and  sprinkle  some  garbage  disposal  in  there?"  he  jokes.  he's  almost  glad  that  his  impression  isn't  entirely  true.  "you  know,  i'm  actually  not  too  sure.  told  the  barkeep  i  wanted  something  fruity,  and  then  he  gave  me  a  weird  look  and  handed  me  this."  a  pink  drink  with  a  little  parasol  on  top.  he  didn't  even  think  they  had  the  little  umbrellas  about  bars.  everett  glances  at  her,  sheepishly  this  time.  “surely,  the  drink  of  champions.”

SHE TURNS SLOWLY IN her seat to get a better view of the man her newfound company has supposedly been looking at, only to turn back to the stranger with a playful smirk. « noted. and you're too shy to ask for his number ? need a wingwoman ? » not a role she's awfully familiar with, but it shouldn't be hard to sell the man in front of her purely based on looks alone. « i would love to. i should let you know, i take recycling very seriously, so this could get ugly, » she warns in a hum, emptying her whiskey. it should concern her that she no longer feels the burn of it going down her throat — surely a sign that she's better off going home. it's been too long since she talked to someone who felt real though and that's why she feels enticed to stay. « an umbrella drink has never let me down. i think it's an excellent choice, » she offers a small smile, gaze resting on him. « you know, sometimes i find it easier to confide in strangers. penny for your thoughts ? »

Little women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig

he knows nakoma will protest, though having voiced the suggestion makes cody more sure than ever that it's the only option. going back to his uncle's side isn't a long term plan, not when resentment coils in his chest each time he catches the smug turn on hard features — spending his life sneaking in and out in order to see koma isn't an option either, not a viable one, when each attempt makes cody more sure he'll eventually get caught. “ of course i'd do it. ” he sighs gently, faint smile finding its way back to his lips as the rucksack he'd been about to leave with drops back to the ground with a soft thud. “ in fact, you have no choice. i'm not going to be a part of that pack with him. so, if you won't have me, we'll just be two idiots out here alone. ” but god, he hopes koma's willing to let them be a duo again — he wants to be with him heating instant noodles of a broken hob, complaining about shitty jobs. and he needs to be with him when other packs come round, especially if facing them alone means koma will continue to get hurt. cody won't forgive himself for that. “ leader's a generous term. ” features scrunch softly, amusement that's only a little out of place given the situation pulling momentarily over his expression. “ if i have to lead, can i crash on your couch for a while? you know, since i'm making myself homeless. ”

HE'D BEEN PREPARED TO live the rest of his life like this, though by now he's not convinced it would be an awfully long one. threats are not new to him, though having no protection is. being without cody is. he can deal with the bruises and the scars, tossing away bloodied clothing items after every full moon — it's the absence of his best friend that hurts the most. maybe that's why he perks up like an excited dog at the prospect of no longer having to hide their meet - ups. it's a chance to rid himself of that bitterness he feels around cody these days — even if this sacrifice is so great it would be cruel to ask that of him. and yet, koma can't stop smiling. « cody. this is ... what we're doing is insane. » but they're doing it. together. he crashes into the other man, enveloping him in an embrace, burying his face in his neck for a split second only because he can. because it's been so long since he reached out for cody at all, allowed himself to forgive in anything more than just words. he leans back before he crushes the other completely. « dude, mi casa es su casa. i need you to be so fucking sure about this, though. like, you're never getting rid of me again. ever. you know that ? »

he knows it isn't helpful, shoulders sinking as he hears his own suggestion from lydia's lips. perhaps it's a sign he's been in the industry too long — to have anything real feels like a silver lining, even if it is in secret. of course lydia wants more than that. it's not the first time with her that he's reminded how cynical he's become, the growing realisation that all he's trying to do now is survive it. he never wants that for her, though looking at the world's new star, he's far too aware he has no idea how to stop it either. “ that's not what i — ” luis cuts himself short rather than finish the sentence, knows it's not how she meant it either, but lydia's big love will never be any of his business. it can't be. certainly not if she wants to be allowed to have it. “ i don't think a hat and jacket will change the fact you're lydia monroe. ” he points out, a smile flickering on the corners of his lips as he glances to his reflection in the nearest mirror. it's not a cap he'd ever wear normally, he'll give her that much. he still turns to do as he's told, attention shifting to rummaging through the row of jackets before he's pulling out a grey tweed option. it's probably right for a man a few decades his senior, but it'll cover the wine stain and it's nothing the press will be looking for him well. “ well... ” he hums, slipping his arms through the sleeves to turn and face back to lydia. “ do i look like someone's very presentable father? ”

FAME IS NOTHING BUT a slippery slide. she feels ungrateful just for thinking it, but the hard cold truth is she never wanted any of this. her early years were spent as nothing but a liability, instilling in her a sense of guilt, of a debt that needs to be paid somehow, and she's never faulted her parents for seeing her as nothing but a cashback program. she's never faulted them until now, anyway. not until luis crept up on her and begun to matter to her — more than anything else ever has. « you don't think this is convincing ? » she feigns a pout as she puts on a cap and a pair of gucci sunglasses. he's right though, there's not a coat in here that's gonna disguise her well enough to put in an order for anything anywhere. especially not arm in arm with luis olaya. she tilts her head to one side as she studies him with a beam. « a very presentable daddy, » she confirms playfully, turning again to rummage through the jackets, all of them louder than the other. perfect for a red carpet and foul anywhere else. and it may be because she's had too much to drink, but the hazy outlines of an idea starts forming in her mind. « no, i actually have an idea. think you can smuggle me into the kitchens without anyone noticing ? you can throw a bitch fit, demand to speak with the chef. »

Rahul Kohli as Owen Sharma The Haunting of Bly Manor | 1.05

          for the briefest of moments, he says nothing. his body stills, arms tightening around her as her pleas fill the room. one hand slides into her hair as if he could shield her from every bruise he’ll find on her body when he cleans her up. “ yeah, ” he murmurs into her hair, voice rough enough to break. “ yeah, sweetheart. ” his forehead comes to rest against hers. carefully. gently. the mercenary in him wanted to ruin the lives of the men that dared touch a hair on her head. they’ll have their time. but for now, cinya needed him. she needed him to take her far away from this place. then, and only then, would he be able to do what the violence in him craves. but she didn’t need that man right now. she needs her henri. “ you don’t have to be brave anymore, cin. not tonight. ” the man presses a soft kiss to her temple. “ we can leave. tonight, if you want. tomorrow if you need more time. but you are not going to be staying here anymore. ” his tone was firm. it needed to be if they were going to leave this place behind. “ because if you are going to go anywhere with me ... it’s going to be home. ”

HOME. THIS PLACE HASN'T FELT like home since the moment he was no longer part of it. she's given her best years to this place; tired arms scraping old paint, aching feet balancing on top of countless ladders, all to pour love into a building that will only hold violence and pain. it hurts worse than any heartbreak to turn her back on it now, but there are no other options left — she has fought tooth and nail to stay and it has cost her more than she can afford. she only wants henri now. she only wants henri, always. she nods slowly, eyes closing as his forehead comes to rest against hers. « thank you, » she breathes out, relief flooding over her as she nudges closer to him. just a second more in his arms. just another moment in his warmth. she leans back eventually the way she has to, and eyes him carefully. « i'm not coming back, am i ? » she realizes sadly, because it's the way it has to be. « i'll pack. we can go right now, i don't ... i don't have much. will you wait here ? » she stumbles back on her feet, dizzy now that all her senses have returned to her. « henri, if they return, just ... don't do anything, okay ? they'll outnumber you. just act like nothing, please. » the only thing that will hurt at this point is him getting hurt because of her.