great {love} and small disasters

Writer's Block: Here's looking at you

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 12:41:28 GMT

What is your all-time favorite, romantic movie scene? What about it speaks to you?

OK, I have two, one's really fluffy and sweet, while the other is... well, it's a sex scene, but it's still epic. For some reason they both involve Keira Knightley. Apparently I have a thing for her without really knowing I have a thing for her.

1. The Mark and Juliet scene from Love Actually when he comes to the door with his signs and... oh, it's so, so lovely ♥. No matter how many times I watch that movie it makes me cry each and every time. But then unrequited love always makes me sad.

Apparently embedding has been disabled on every single version on YouTube, but in case you have no idea what I'm talking about you can find it here.

2. The other is the library scene from Atonement between Robbie and Cecilia, which is quite possibly one of the best love scenes in a movie in my person opinion. I can't tell you why, but I simply adore it. I think it's their complete and utter desperation after finally admitting their love for each other, strikes a chord...

And I can't link you to that either because YouTube hates me, but go here if there's some weird possibility you haven't seen it.

.x.

Hub 3 Pics! =D

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 11:43:55 GMT

Hey all, back from another hectic Hub weekend and it was amazing... as always!

I'm going to post up a report of some kind tonight 'cause I have to leave for work at 1pm and you just know it'll take me absolutely hours to do it properly. So, just for now, you can have some of my pics. They're the best part anyway.

This is my favourite picture by miles (although I really do like my Kai one, too).

The man of the moment, Ben Loyd-Holmes. Bloody fantastic!

For some reason I ended up with an extra picture with Kai. I'm not complaining though 'cause technically I could have got an extra one with Gareth as I was informed earlier on when we got all confused about extra photo shoot tickets and group pictures lol. This really did make up for it! =) hehe.

One of the best moments of the weekend... by far.

A few from the parties.

Ben was out and about chatting to people at the party, so I took Jasmine to take him a piece of birthday cake. He was really wonderful with her, asking her what presents she'd had, asked her to dance, gave her a birthday kiss and all sorts. Really ♥ him!

The rest of the party pics can be found over HERE, go take a look!

I'll post a few talk pics up later on when I do my report, you know, just to make it a tad more interesting haha.

The Hub 4 next then. I will be going. They announced Eve for it and that kinda sealed the deal. Oh, I fail at saving money, really I do!

.x.

Princes and Kings: A Ben Barnes and William Moseley Picspam.

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 22:21:06 GMT

I said I might do this a month ago and kinda didn't, but then the other day I thought: "Sod it, I actually will after all!"

Have I mentioned recently that I ♥ these two? ;)

It's serious business this, posing for the camera.

Well, sometimes anyway... ;)

Tags are not my friend. But OMG, don't you just love them?! ♥

Is it just me, or does Will look like an estate agent or something in these?
Combination of both the suit and the badge I think.

TRL... lots of pictures are essential.

Slouchy Ben makes Will look tall hehe.

Leading onto the William "Touchy Feely" Moseley interview. A personal favourite.

Georgie's the only one I let invade my picspam in large doses lol.

Serious gaming times.

Still no idea what's going on here. Can anyone fill me in? Either way, it makes me laugh.

Ummm... LOL? =P

New favourite picture on the bottom right. Guh.

Impatient fangirl is waiting on HQ and untagged photos. Oh, and more of them would be good too.

I adore this picture, seriously, but some random interviewer dude totally ruins it. Boo! =(

.x.

Writer's Block: Stuck with stardom.

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 17:11:46 GMT

What celebrity or politician would you most wish to get stuck in an elevator with for two hours? What burning question would you ask them?

View 373 Answers

OK, I have three options for this and I can't decide, so I'll give you all three lol.

To J.K. Rowling, "So, how exactly do I go about being as rich as you?"

To Eve Myles, "Still interested in snogging more girls?"*

To Ben Barnes, "Ever had sex with a lesbian? Would you like to?"

Whaaaaaat? I told you I was a perve... =P

.x.

*Something she said she'd love to do at The Hub lmao.

Fic: RPF: My Bloody Valentine (9/16).

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 20:02:32 GMT

Title: My Bloody Valentine (9/16).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairings/characters: Ben Barnes/William Moseley, Ben Barnes/Kate Magowan, Colin Firth, Rachel Hurd-Wood and various other Dorian Gray and Narnia people.
Rating: NC-17 this part (NC-17 overall).
Warnings: Real person slash, het, so many celeb cameos it should be illegal, Mr. Darcy’s stalker and gun toting maniacs.
Word count: 3,416.
Summary: Ben has done absolutely everything to keep his relationship with Will sacred and unmarred by the paparazzi, but during the promotion run for Dorian Gray he discovers that some things are more important than hiding away.
Other chapters: Here.
A/N: This chapter, this bloody chapter has got longer and longer and smuttier and smuttier with each passing day. I didn’t mean to take this long over it because I did start this the same day I finished the last one. Gah, this fic will be the death of me! I hope the length makes up for the wait at least.

My Bloody Valentine
Chapter 9 – How to Cope with the Loss of a Loved One

He’s killing time. Walking the stacks of the familiar bookshop and doing everything and anything he can to avoid going back to the hotel. Will’s there alone, he actually asked to be left that way for a little while, so Ben is trying his hardest to let him have as much time as he needs. It’s difficult. Ever since last night he’s wanted nothing but to be with him, to keep an eye on him. But he knows he’s overreacting… maybe.

The events of the previous night are still going round and around in his head. He told himself he wouldn’t dwell on it, but he can’t help it anymore. Left to his own devices and he’s struggling to keep his mind off the subject.

It had taken them over an hour to get away from the venue and police last night and even then, they’d chosen to spend the rest of the evening in the hotel bar keeping a teary-eyed Rachel company. She’d been a mess, they all had. Leaving her there alone hadn’t even been an option he considered. And if Ben’s completely honest, he didn’t want to either, she was slowly becoming like a little sister to him.

Coming to a stop in the magazine section, he randomly plucks one out from the stand and begins to riffle through the pages. The words blur into one another as he stares down at it and he sighs, eyes closing for a brief moment. How can he concentrate on anything today? Even being here is a chore.

He puts the magazine back without a second thought and makes a beeline for the exit, ignoring the stares and hurried whispers of excitement he leaves in his wake. Getting a coffee had been tempting for a while, but thanks to the way people were beginning to look at him, he soon changed his mind.

Walking along 7th Avenue, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat (the one Will found for him at the beginning of their stay and had proceeded to graciously give to him as a gift), Ben takes his time. He doesn’t want to go back to the hotel too soon and crowd Will. Annoying him is the last thing he wants to do. If he needs to be alone, he needs to be alone and Ben respects that.

The streets are unusually quiet for New York City, but it is ten o’clock on a week day and he supposes all the businessmen are busy in their offices. He’s thankful really; it spares him any extra hassle than needs be.

By the time he slots the key card into his hotel room door and hears the satisfying beep it’s getting on for eleven thirty. He can just about make out the sound of Will’s voice as he steps inside and wonders for a moment whether he should leave him a little longer. But it’s too late because Will spots him and a weak smile flits across his features, gaze dropping down to the duvet cover anxiously as he continues his phone call.

‘Hi…’ Ben mouths, raising a hand in greeting as he lets the door swing closed behind him. It finds home with a soft click.

Will’s response to him is slow and he merely points to the phone in his hand, indicating that he’s talking to Anna.

Immediately Ben’s joining him on the bed and whispering on a breath, ‘Can I talk to her?’

He doesn’t really know why, he just feels the need to. Take comfort in a friendly voice maybe. Will on the other hand, is hesitant in handing the Nokia over and stalls by changing the subject they’re talking about, Anna’s melodic laughter coming through the earpiece loud enough for them both to hear.

Eventually though, he clears his throat and says, ‘Ben’s here, he wants to talk to you…’

There’s a brief pause and Ben can hear her questioning this before the phone finally ends up in his hand. ‘Hi there!’ he begins, attempting to keep his tone light. ‘How’s--’

‘What are you doing there?’ Anna cuts him off. ‘I thought you were supposed to be in New York?’

His gaze shifts to Will and he frowns. ‘I am in New York,’ he responds and he notices as his boyfriend flinches slightly. ‘Didn’t Will tell you he was coming with me?’

There’s a long pause before she eventually offers a simple, ‘No.’

‘Oh, well…’ he hesitates, wondering if he really does want to continue this conversation he’s so ungracefully started. ‘Yeah, we’re here. Together.’

Will sighs and shuffles closer to the headboard as he begins to fidget. Even though he’s always been the one so keen on divulging the details of their relationship to friends and family, he suddenly looks uneasy with the conversation taking place. Now there’s a first if ever Ben saw one.

He chats away to Anna easily (as soon as the Kate questions are out of the way at least), telling tales of how they first got together and watching as a crimson blush sweeps over Will’s cheeks, his obvious discomfort growing.

When Ben finally hangs up, setting the phone aside, he regards the younger man with contempt, questions slowly forming in his mind. ‘Not so nice now the boot’s on the other foot, is it?’ he offers, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why haven’t you told her yet? Georgie knows for Christ’s sake, surely it can’t be that difficult? It’s only Anna.’

‘I was waiting for you to come to your senses…’ Will shrugs, snatching his phone back up off the bed and slipping it into his pocket. ‘I didn’t want to tell her like that.’

Ben nods, Will’s admission making him feel anxious. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs. ‘It’s just--’

‘Don’t worry.’

A silence settles over them shortly afterwards and for several moments, neither of them even does so much as dare as to breathe. Ben’s heart is going ten to the dozen, wondering if he’s made some kind of astronomical mistake and it’s not until Will’s hand slides over his own that he calms down again.

Their eyes meet and he allows a soft smile to play about his features as he murmurs, ‘So, umm… if you’re feeling better, did you want to go for dinner tonight or something? My treat?’

Will gapes at him, which isn’t quite the reaction he’s looking for and it offends. Ben can’t help it though and he takes a step back, going to look out of the window instead and watch the city below.

‘Ben…?’

When he turns back, his eyes are wide and questioning.

‘Are you OK?’ asks Will gently.

Ben doesn’t know quite how to answer that, so merely offers a nod in response before approaching the bed and kneeling down at the foot of it. ‘I’m…’ he hesitates, a breath catching in his throat as he thinks what to say. ‘I’m fine, Will. Honestly.’

Another brief silence follows and then his boyfriend unceremoniously grasps the front of his sweater, pulling Ben down on top of him. He falls, losing his balance in a tangle of flailing limbs, repressed laughter exploding from within. Will’s brilliant at making him feel at ease and today is no exception apparently. He needs this, he needs to be happy, he needs to laugh and smile.

Seconds later Will’s lips have found his in a desperate kiss, a hand slipping beneath Ben’s sweater and curious fingertips walking over his stomach. ‘We have some time to kill before dinner… right?’ he murmurs finally.

Ben smiles and leans down, his lips pressed to the shell of the younger man’s ear as he whispers, ‘Quite a bit of time actually…’

‘Good.’

And it’s as simple as that, Will’s eyes light up and he’s stripping clothes from the both of them within moments, his playful expression now extremely determined. Sweaters, shirts and belts are tossed down onto the floor and his smile is intoxicating, never faltering. He’s loving every single second of this.

Ben manages to get a hold on the situation by yanking Will’s jeans down and forcing him onto his back. He smiles, easily, hands moving to the younger man’s hips and he rubs gently. ‘So what do you want to do before then?’ he teases, inquisitive fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Will’s boxers.

‘Do you have to?’ Will looks putout, but he still laughs all the same.

Shrugging, Ben gives him several more seconds to question his motives before removing the final offending garment in one foul swoop and leaning down lower still. His lips brush over Will’s clearly defined stomach muscles, following a path he’s ridiculously used to. Some of this may be routine, but neither of them will ever get bored.

He pauses, eyes closed and fingertips flexing slightly against Will’s skin. ‘I do love you, you know,’ he breathes. ‘I’m sorry I put you through all of this shit all the while.’

Will makes a small grunt of protest as Ben moves to sit up again, gazing down at his lover with new eyes. It isn’t that he hasn’t looked at him before, really looked at him, it’s the fact he’s never paid enough attention. The young man he’s known only a few years is perfect, beautiful even, and there are things Ben takes for granted. Like the way Will’s hair curls around his ears when it gets a little too long, or the way his eyes sparkle when he so much as smiles.

Will is beautiful for so many reasons that it’s almost impossible to count them all.

‘You’re never going to leave me, are you..?’

The question just slips out, Ben’s insecurities taking hold the longer they lie there in silence. It’s inappropriate and badly timed, but he doesn’t care, he just needs to know the answer.

Will’s (what was beginning to become quite agitated) gaze softens and he shakes his head, reaching his hands up to comb them through Ben’s hair. He doesn’t speak, merely smiles and answers the question with a deep and long kiss.

Through the fabric of his jeans, Ben can feel the length of Will’s erection pressing against his hip and supposes he should stop talking now. There have been so many times he’s made Will stop talking in favour of a quick fumble or a grope in a dark corner, this seems a little unfair. So he smiles as he pulls away from the kiss and let’s his hand saunter down between them, fingers curling around the increasingly hardening flesh.

Will’s eyes fall closed at the touch, his teeth cutting into his lower lip and hands instantly tangling into the cotton sheets.

Ben wants to chastise him for trying to be silent, but instead makes it his mission to draw a moan from the younger man by stroking his hand up and down in a leisurely fashion. It works, quite quickly too, and as they both relax into it, Will lifts a hand and knots his fingers painfully into Ben’s hair, tugging on it. He flinches slightly yet doesn’t react, which doesn’t go down quite as well as he thought it might.

‘Come on, Ben…’

The plea is soft, but desperate. Ben’s gaze shifts and their eyes meet across the short distance. He soon acknowledges the desperation in the younger man’s face.

‘I don’t know what you--’

His stupidity is cut off by Will’s persistent mouth and several seconds later, he realises that he has his jeans and boxers round his ankles now, too. Apparently his observation skills are beginning to fail him. He laughs and lifts his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, trying to ignore it as he moves to kick his clothes out of the way and tug off his socks. He has to get them out of the way before anything else; he’s beginning to generate a sock induced complex.

When Ben eventually settles back onto the bed, hands either side of Will’s head and his breathing heavily, a gracious smile flits across his features. ‘It’s been a while,’ he whispers softly. ‘Don’t want to rush this.’

Will frowns, tilting his head as he places a finger to Ben’s lips to shush him. ‘I just want you to want me, Ben,’ he replies.

‘I do want you. So, so much,’ he is quick to argue, fully aware of how pathetic he sounds right now.

Things are messed up at the moment and Ben needs Will to know because he does want him and he’s even more determined to prove the point, kissing him deeply, fiercely. He happily tastes and explores every inch of the young man beneath him, smiling at the sounds he can coax from Will’s throat so easily. He’s always loved hearing it and today is no exception as those moans and sighs elate him like never before.

But he stops, lips mere millimetres from Will’s again as he battles to focus on that glittering and infectious smile. Will is breathing hard, still smiling somehow and making more noise than is necessary. His eyes are half closed as Ben takes his cock into his hand once more, pumping up and down, his usual lazy speed only increasing when he hears a groan of encouragement from Will’s parted lips.

Closing the gap between them again, Ben kisses him, their mouths melding together and his tongue gliding over Will’s lips as he’s keen to deepen it.

Will pulls away though, murmuring, ‘Stop…’ and the instruction is very nearly lost, but Ben pauses just long enough for it to register and he sits back up, looking down at his boyfriend with curiosity. He’s faced with an expression of determination and it takes him a second to realise that Will has taken his momentary distraction into his own hands and reached down between them.

Ben freezes as he feels Will’s gentle touch, not entirely sure how to react. He’s always been the one in charge, always, so this is new to him.

‘I want to…’ the younger man trails off, blinking ice blue eyes and biting down hesitantly on his lip. ‘I need to make you feel as good as you make me feel… please. Will you let me?’

He wants to say no because that just isn’t the way they do things, yet hears himself murmur a soft ‘yes’ into the ongoing silence. He doesn’t exactly want to let him at all, he’s actually freaking out… quietly, on the inside of course. But this is Will and Ben trusts him and knows that this shouldn’t be a big deal for them, not even slightly.

Will takes the change in his stride and after finally agreeing, Ben tries to relax and let the younger man take charge, like he wants to. He manages to as well, right until he feels the tip of Will’s cock against his entrance and then panic sets in. It doesn’t last long though, because Will presses his lips to Ben’s shoulder and whispers, ‘Calm down, we don’t want a repeat of the first time we ever did this…’

Christ and he isn’t wrong, their first time together had been a complete disaster and even thinking about a repeat performance makes him shudder, so Ben does as he says and threads his fingers through Will’s hair, exhaling slowly as their bodies come together. This will undoubtedly take some getting used to, but he’s willing.

It is pretty good though. No, it’s better than good… it’s incredible.

Will’s actually really good at this, very good at this and Ben’s whispering his name in some kind of breathless mantra within minutes. He leans his head back, managing to catch Will’s lips in a soft kiss as they move through the motions. His boyfriend is absolutely in sync with everything; from the rock of his hips to the stroke of his hand, he has a natural rhythm Ben’s never really been able to witness properly before.

By the time Ben collapses beside him with a soft laugh, completely and utterly spent, he buries his face into the pillows. He’s made a half-hearted attempt to cleanup, but would rather drift off to sleep and not have to move a muscle. Will’s eyes are sparkling with life when he finally turns onto his side, hands coming up to caress Ben’s jaw. ‘Any good?’ he questions playfully.

‘Won’t hear me complaining…’ He smiles and opens his arms wider for a wriggling Will to cuddle into them. Sighing, Ben leans down and lets his lips brush over the younger man’s forehead lightly, and then he closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a real state of relaxation for the first time all day. ‘Want to skip out on dinner?’ he murmurs without a moments thought. ‘We could eat here instead. Order room service maybe.’

Will laughs and punches him playfully in the arm, but not hard enough to do any kind of damage. ‘No way,’ he argues quickly. ‘You said you were going to take me out, so that’s exactly what you’re doing.’ Their eyes meet fleetingly and he grins. ‘Today I’m in charge, all right...’

‘Fine, you’re in charge.’ Ben doesn’t like it, but he wouldn’t dare bicker over something so trivial, especially not now.

‘Jesus, it’s not that hard, it is?’

This time he allows himself to laugh and shakes his head, curling in closer to Will and trailing his fingers through the younger man’s hair. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs. ‘Not used to--’

Ben doesn’t finish, he doesn’t get chance to; his words simply fall away as they’re overshadowed by the sound of someone opening the hotel room door. A beep that disturbs their calm and the metallic clunk as the handle’s pushed down.

‘Hey Ben, do you mind if I hang out in – oh!’

Rachel has just appeared around the edge of the door, which is a slight relief seeing as Ben has actually given her a key card and she’s not just some random invading his room without even knocking. Course, he’d completely forgotten about it until now and can’t remember for the life of him why he even did so. None of this helps the embarrassment that follows though, from each and every one of them.

Will is the most conscious of everyone of course, the covers now pulled right up to his neck, eyes wide in shock.

Apparently Rachel doesn’t realise she’s staring at them (for a good minute, too) and it’s not until Ben clears his throat and murmurs, ‘Can you… you know?’ that she snaps out of it again.

‘Right, sorry.’ Her laughter is awkward to say the least. ‘But let’s face it, nothing I haven’t seen before.’

Will perks an eyebrow at that and Ben knows he’s currently under scrutiny from the young man before he even looks around. When he does however, he simply raises an eyebrow in response and shrugs haplessly. God knows what that look’s for.

‘Oh, crap… that came out wrong. Sorry… again.’ Rachel flushes crimson. ‘I meant with the film and--’

‘We know,’ Ben cuts off her rambling before it proceeds to get any worse.

She nods and with a shaky laugh, turns back around to face the door. She’s bouncing on her heels and wringing her hands, discomfort obvious as they hurry to dress themselves. Why on earth had he thought that handing that key card over last night a good idea? Of all the stupid and ridiculous things to have done – he’s going to have to blame the drink. Who in their right mind just hands out a free invitation to their room like that? He’s a prize idiot, that’s for sure.

‘I’m sorry, this is really…’ Rachel sighs, shaking her head. ‘Do you want me to come back later?’

‘It’s fine, Rach. Stop saying sorry.’

Ben starts slightly when he realises it’s Will that’s spoken and the words didn’t actually come out of his own mouth. So instead, he opts for, ‘We were heading out for dinner soon actually, did you want to come with?’

This will earn him a place in Will’s bad books for later, but he’d rather be there than be rude and risk upsetting Rachel. They’ve been through enough this past twenty-four hours, it’s only fair. She clearly needed company or she wouldn’t have turned up unannounced, the least he can do is be there for her and Will can hardly argue with that. There’s plenty of time for them to be alone later… again.

.x.

Dorian Gray: The Review: "A toast." "To what?" "Intoxication..."

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 19:09:38 GMT

As promised, a proper review of Dorian Gray, opposed to me simply fangirling over how pretty Ben is...

Dorian Gray, the latest classic to be reworked into a movie for the modern audience, and they didn’t do too badly either. Ben shines in this movie and for the first time since he came to our attention as the lead in Prince Caspian, we can really see what he’s capable of. Our Ben is anything but a one trick pony, let me tell you.

To begin with, I would like to propose a question; when exactly did I become immune to the fact that half of the world are still freaked out/disgusted by same sex relations?

At the height of a party Dorian is throwing, Basil comes looking for him and they slink off onto the upstairs landing to discuss the portrait and Basil showing it as the headlining piece at an exhibition. An intoxicated Dorian comes onto the oblivious artist after rebuffing the idea, deciding to show him his gratitude in an entirely different way and in the back row of our cinema screen, a bunch of teenage girls exclaim, "Ew!"

Basil’s pure fascination with Dorian was touched upon in the book of course and in the movie it’s expanded upon in a very obvious way. I liked this actually and while reading the book, kind of strangely wished it would happen, but alas…

Anyway, I’m off the point. These girls were clearly disgusted by this, while myself and prettypsycho sat there grinning like Cheshire cats, our interest peaked. Their declaration made me think only one thing, "What’s wrong? I don’t understand your problem." The world of fandom is so accepting of slash pairings that I sometimes forget the real world is different and when I am reminded of that fact, it upsets me.

Why can’t a person simply watch a movie? Why do they feel the need to declare their disgust for a whole cinema to hear? There is absolutely nothing wrong with two men kissing and it’s time that some people learnt to accept that on face value.

I love Basil, I really do. Clearly he was delusional, but still. He only ever wanted the best for Dorian and look what happened as a result. Poor sod. I’ll say no more on that though for those of you who have yet to read the book/watch the movie.

I’m slightly torn in my overall opinion. I think it’s the ending that’s throwing me (which appears to be happening with everything just lately). There was no point to introducing the character of Emily and I think this will be the main downfall, especially for fans of the original book. Don’t try and fix something that isn’t broken, as the saying goes. Admittedly the ending of the book is a bit of an anticlimax, but they could have improved upon it without the need to bring in another love interest (especially in the form of Henry Wotton’s daughter).

Not that I hated Emily, anything but. She proved to be quite wonderful, straightforward in her opinions and brimming with an unfathomable love for life. There is a particularly nice scene involving a picnic basket and a torrential downpour, although I’ll say no more. When you see the movie, you will understand.

That said though, it was still unnecessary and spoilt the overview of the entire movie.

Another small complaint I have is to do with some of the editing near the beginning, particularly during the Sibyl Vane scenes. I saw the "We shouldn’t be afraid of our feelings, Sib" clip before watching the movie and presumed the jumps were edited in for TV or whatever. So when watching the movie and realising that no, that’s just how it’s been cut, I was a little disappointed. Wonky editing makes Heather Belle very unhappy.

Otherwise the editing of the scenes were lovely, not on par with Atonement lovely obviously, but lovely all the same. I am a big fan of beautifully done cinematography.

Sex is predominant within the movie which I, of course, have no complaints about (I’m a perve, I’ll admit it). They may have overdone it slightly, but for today’s audience, they probably needed to do so or else Dorian’s debauchery wouldn’t have fetched so much as a raised eyebrow.

There were a few truly superb scenes, but I don’t want to go into great detail and spoil everyone. My personal favourite involved some nice cutting back and forth between an afternoon tea party and a particularly rough session where Dorian was dripping with his own blood. The use of colours in that scene really left an impact on me. That’s also where the "jammy scone" mood came from the other day (if you were wondering flist).

I found the way they brought the portrait to life extremely effective and it had much more of presence, so much so that Dorian became conscious of it and the way it changed practically every second of the day toward the end. Probably could have done without the rasping breath sound effects, something about those ended up a little comical, although I guess they did add to the menace. At the final unveil I couldn’t help getting a tad anxious, but then a group of girls ruined the moment when they started laughing quite brazenly. There really wasn’t anything funny about it and this angered me, as well as several others we found on our way out of the screen afterwards.

Alas, thanks to the 15 certificate, everyone who goes to see this movie will have to suffer the never-ending tittering of teenage girls who have turned up purely because they fancy the ass off Ben Barnes. prettypsycho and I do too of course, but we can also appreciate and thoroughly enjoy a good piece of drama when it’s presented to us.

All in all, Dorian Gray is pretty fantastic and I’m rallying for a re-watch (one where I’ll skip the end).

Go and see it, but be sure to keep an open mind book fans, or else you may be sourly disappointed. Adaptations will always be just that, a take on the original (not a carbon copy). If you don’t open yourself up to new possibilities, you will forever be dissatisfied, with everything.

.x.

Bad Player 101.

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 10:31:30 GMT

Last night, myself and dod_yhwh were talking bad players and compiled a list of ways to recognise them, 101 ways to be exact. Enjoy! ;)

The Bad Player 101

Note: Every one of these are drawn from personal in game experiences. Wouldn't you just love to be us? Ha!

1. A bad player can't spell "suggest", no matter how many times you tell them it's wrong, for three years straight.
2. Bad players don't know the meaning of a paragraph.
3. Their characters will most probably have the same hobbies and passions they do.
4. Their characters may also mimic the real life of the celebrity they are trying to portray, even though they're supposed to be an original character.
5. Your character having an affair behind their character's back will be impossible, thanks to their amazing ability to "just know" there's something wrong and break up with yours before anything really happens.

6. If you do manage to have a successful affair, it will be crap because the entire scene will be marred by the "I love both of you so much, I don't know who to choose" line... every time...
7. If their character is playing the other woman/man, they will have them beg and plead for you to split up with the original girlfriend/boyfriend at every available opportunity.
8. They can read minds.
9. They brag about the drama they have in other groups they own, but yet can not even come up with more than "Hi, I just met you, I love you, let's get married" in the group they share with you.
10. Sex scenes will be ruined by one of two things; their inability to move during or dodgy pornographic sound effects. For future reference, writing "she moaned" is perfectly acceptable.
11. Sex scenes that are not ruined by the aforementioned crap will ultimately be ruined by the character clinging so tightly to the other they can not escape, except by death.
12. Their characters will somehow always end up in a place, even though they never seem to write anything about them moving so much as a step. Strange, but true.
13. Their characters are anorexic. It's true… they will order food at a restaurant but never actually eat. Or drink, for that matter.
14. Male characters will drink cocktails, constantly, and then claim their reasoning is because they can't handle hard drink. Cocktails contain spirits, lots of them, mixing those is worse than ordering 3 vodka and cokes. Apparently they really are that thick.
15. Male characters will always act gay, even though the player insists they are straight.
16. I CANNOT PLAY A GAY CHARACTER!!!!!1111111!!11
17. Every hello will be accompanied by the compliment “handsome/beautiful”, depending on gender.
18. In a sex scene or heavy kissing scene, your character will be "marked" by the innocent slut.
19. Religion means nothing in the long run. If you're playing with someone who refuses to do sex scenes because of their faith, just wait until you play the one actor they've always dreamt of sleeping with.
20. They will over do it on the description... multiple times. The phrase "he took her hand" is a no no. With a bad player this must be expanded upon. Try something more descriptive, such as, "he took her soft hand in his firm one." Brilliant, isn't it?
21. They will insist you know every detail of their characters clothing... down to underwear and fingernail polish. Multiple times through the rp. Isn't it bad enough they spent 6 paragraphs at the beginning describing it? You don't need to be reminded it was a short white skirt later.
22. Working in a shop will not be enough for their character, they will most probably juggle school with a high-flying job or a singing/modelling career.
23. The shop they do choose to work in will be a 5 year olds dream job.
24. Don't want to RP a pregnancy for 9 months? Don't worry, with a bad player you can take a pill and do it in two weeks!
25. Love being pregnant? Don't worry, with a bad player you can also be pregnant for 14 months!
26. Diets are very fashionable you know, absolutely everyone's on them... if you're a bad player at least.
27. Every player that is on a diet, though, will ultimately consume more calories in one day than she should in a year, but that's okay. She’s allowed her splurges...
28. It doesn't matter which character they're playing, every single one orders the exact same thing in Starbucks.
29. And when you're in Starbucks, their character will be sitting on the patio, but still be able to start a conversation with you while you're waiting for your coffee at the counter.
30. Their character will overreact to absolutely everything. Explosion on the other side of the building? Broken leg, naturally!
31. When playing a massive death scene for the entire group, their character will be impaled by a beam long before anything actually starts, just so they can "Get on with it".
32. Insults such as "You snot!" will become common place.
33. The only reason to RP will be to have your single characters no longer single. Friends are not an option.
34. However, if friends are made, it will last no longer than 3 weeks before their character is desperately in love with yours. Discussing it beforehand is an option, but they'll just do it anyway because they can't help themselves.
35. Drama does not exist in their world. If it does, it will simply be cheating. Refer to #5 to find out the outcome of this "drama".
36. A bad player will not be able to even think about starting a relationship with your character if they do not personally find them attractive.
37. A bad player will insist on all of her female characters having children. And then have her own feelings hurt when a character says that she herself could never raise a child alone.
38. Female characters with children will never, ever be able to leave them with a babysitter and think about having at least a little bit of a life.
39. A bad player can not think for themselves. They will always ask you, "Skip ahead?" "To when?" "What's happened between them?"
40. In addition to that, they will also repeat everything you say in their own response and simply change the words around a bit.
41. Bad players will be unable to cope with the fact that you got rid of a character. They will forever be hinting, "If only Kevin were here... that would be some fun drama..."
42. Their idea of a bad boy will be the campest character they have ever played.
43. Baby talk is a no no on a date.
44. Guys giggle and blush regularly if you're RPing with a bad player.
45: When playing in a British town, you will still use dollars, speak completely American, only eat at American chain restaurants, only shop in American stores, and only watch American TV.
46. A bad RPer will constantly ask you to RP "for fun". Obviously those RP's you do for actual games aren't fun at all.
47. Bad players will not be able to tell if something is ok or not:

bp: (is it ok if he did something like kiss her cheek or whatever)
np: (that's fine)
bp: (ok..would a kiss on the lips be ok or not right now lol)

48. A bad player will feel the need to tell you their characters name every 3 or 4 words, just in case you forgot already.
49. A bad player doesn't care about you or your day. "Hi, want to role play?"
50. When playing a celebrity as an original character, their version will practically be a carbon copy of the character said celebrity plays in a TV show/movie.
51. A bad player will agree to a lesbian love affair "so long as there's no kissing or touching or any of that gross sex stuff involved".
52. A bad player will also agree to a lesbian love affair and decide upon it ending that their character is 100% straight once again and it never actually happened.
53. A bad player will wait to have sex, wanting it to be meaningful, and admit their undying love in the climax.
54. Research? What the hell is that?!
55. Brb usually means goodbye.
56. Every other line their character will channel a cat and start clawing at yours.

bp: Britney slowly broke away from the kiss tracing her nails along his neck
bp: She smiled tracing her nails along his back

57. Bad players will insist on playing really old creepy guys or Disney characters.
58. Areas of the human body that are rarely covered up anyway, will be pointed out as "naked".
59. A character will be in love with yours, even though that character has stated that there's no hope at all of falling in love...
60. Love is the solution to every problem known to man, not that their characters are ever complex enough to have problems of course.
61. If they do have problems however, it's usually no more trivial than high school shit. Again, lack of drama...
62. A bad player will never read through anything they've written and be quite happy to post up one solitary paragraph with 10 grammar/spelling mistakes in it.
63. And said player will get offended if you try and correct it, even over IM.
64. Bad players will agree to help you with a storyline and then cock it up in the middle/chicken out.
65. Bad players will develop a dramatic plot line that needs more people to be involved, but won't ask for any help or involvement. They'll just keep playing their character's reaction to the stalker in the shadow.
66. When you're a bad player it's OK to play a character with your name who rapes people.
67. Bad players only ever play sex, sex, and more sex...
67a. ...without any character development.
68. bad RPers will initiate sex only to back out because their character is "falling for you".
69. Getting lipstick on a guy's cheek is a perfectly acceptable excuse to burst into tears.
70. Lack of creativity will lead them to play 3 actors from Twilight and shag the other 3 actors from Twilight represented in a group.
71. A bad player's character will be able to block every punch you throw and in turn always manage to hit your character, even though you have them attempt to dodge it.
72. A bad player will buy an éclair to share among characters, eat it, and then as the two lean in to kiss, move the éclair out of the way even though they've already eaten it.
73. A bad player will make you think you suck too.
74. A bad player will spend all day commenting on other bad players and how they piss them off, so they're doing everything in their power to get back at them because they "just don't care anymore".
75. Creativity isn't necessary when you're a bad player. Playing the same thing over and over again with different characters is perfectly fine.
75a. Yet they're always the first to point out when someone plays their characters the exact same way.
76. When you're a bad player, you don't appear to notice the fact 75% of the characters being played are now exchange students. This would be partially because of #75.
76 a. When it's pointed out, you insist this is a normal occurrence through out schools world wide and that you just feel more comfortable playing American characters, and that you don't know any British actors.
77. What a character looks like plays an extremely important role in an RP.
78. What a character looks like plays an extremely vital role in who they can date as well. Forget the fact this is fiction, but Sarah Michelle Gellar just doesn't look like the type of girl who would date a guy who looks like Aaron Buckingham! As if!
79. All characters are upstanding moral citizens and will never do anything wrong, aside from kiss someone else... maybe, on a particularly naughty day.
80. Goddess is a term of endearment, though a bit overkill at the first meeting...
81. A character can deftly lift a woman and carry her for miles with his eyes closed and tongue shoved down her throat without tripping or running into anyone, because they have a magic sixth sense.
82. Every OOC posted will be directed towards the bad player, even when it clearly isn't. Guilty conscience much?
82 a. Though honestly, said OOC's usually are directed toward said player.
83. A bad player will always think it OK to give RP pets silly names.
84. Dogs in sweaters... 'nuff said.
85. There seems to be a Bermuda triangle centered over every bad player. Forgotten babies, forgotten pets...
86. Any character portrayed by a bad player will never get over an ex.
86a. They will also criticise any characters that do get over exes and accuse them of being insane.
87. If someone happens to play the ex, the bad player will do everything they can think of to get them to hook up again
88. If a bad player gets sick, one of their characters will too. The same goes for if a relative happens to die.
89. There is no separation of fact from fiction for a bad player
90. Teenagers act like adults and adults act like teenagers. Bad players seem to have it mixed up.
91. The characters always seem to hate their jobs, but never are willing to do anything about it.
92. When a bad player's character has a job, they think they can get whatever they want and often walk into a manager's office uninvited and randomly lock the door.
93. When a bad player has a job, they rarely work and always assume they get the night off.
94. A bad player will occasionally slip into first person and freak you out just a little.
95. A bad RPer will become obsessed in a very unhealthy way with an actress and beg you to play her for him... in every club.
96. Bad players will latch onto a character/relationship and make you play the exact same thing every time you're online, thus driving you slowly to distraction.
97. Bad players will only ever play the happily ever after storyline because their own miserable life is nothing like it
98. A cold-hearted character, who's always pushed away yours, will inevitably fall in love once the two have sex, but not until then. The sex is the key.
99. Two different characters both say the exact same thing after sex: "I owe you breakfast in the morning."
100. Bad players are not mature enough to say "have sex..."

bp: (Should they....you know? lol)

101. And finally, you will be able to recognise a bad player before they even write a line by their character picture choices alone. They will claim to have spent hours looking for the perfect picture and then post up the most unflattering, bad quality photo on the internet... even when the character is an A-lister and there are literally 100's of photos of them out there. A bad player is, without a doubt, blind.

Note number two: We have never once claimed to be perfect ourselves before you say anything...

Clearly we have way too much time on our hands lol.

.x.

Meme time!! Reply, reply, reply!

Sun, 16 Aug 2009 19:31:06 GMT

Ask me my fannish Top Five (whatevers). Any top fives. Doesn't matter what, really! And I will answer them all in a new post.

Everyone's doing this, so I thought I would, too.

Give me lots to do folks! ;)

.x.

Busy times!

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 22:30:16 GMT

Forgot to post this up, 'cause I'm lame!

I signed up over at 100potter and claimed Rupert, so I have to somehow make 100 icons of him before 21st Oct lol.

Here's the first few! =)

Subject: Rupert Grint.
Number of Icons: 10/100
Batches Done: 010 love, 017 time, 020 child, 025 loneliness, 035 sport, 036 odd, 037 normal, 041 house colour, 043 positive, 044 negative + 3 variations.
Due Date: 21/10/09.

Teasers:

Find them HERE @ xx_starrynight.

.x.

Writer's Block: I Don't Normally Do This Kind of Thing.

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 13:57:27 GMT

Have you ever found yourself enjoying something you had previously scorned as a cliché? What was it?

View 501 Answers

Gossip Girl... nuff said lol.

.x.

"Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that Harry."

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 03:37:59 GMT

blipintime's post has inspired me to do this, so here we go.

I present to you...

♥ ENCOUNTERS OF A CELEBRITY KIND - 2004 TO 2009 ♥

Please excuse me, my face and my hair in several of these! =P

Sam & Mark - Woolworths (RIP) Wolves - 9th Feb 2004
Didn't get a pic with Mark for some reason...

Alistair Griffin - HMV Birmingham - 19th March 2004

Sam & Mark - CD:UK London - 1st May 2004

Alistair Griffin - Heathrow Airport - 1st May 2004
We weren't expecting him to turn up, quite a shock lol.

Dougie McFLY - Heathrow Airport - 1st May 2004
Urgh, that is all.

Harry McFLY - Heathrow Airport - 1st May 2004

Sam & Mark - CD:UK London - 22nd May 2004
No pic with Sam this time, he was too ill. Poor lamb.

Sam & Mark - Hilton Hotel Maidstone - 29th May 2004
It was fleeting, but I do have a nice signed CD from this day.
Sam was still recovering from being ill, as you can tell.

Aaron "V" Buckingham - CD:UK & BBC London - 7th August 2004
That's my hat he's wearing. He stole it off me.

Ant "V" Brant - CD:UK London - 7th August 2004
Although this pic's outside the BBC lol.

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 7th August 2004
Very brief, as you can tell by the photo.

V - HMV @ The Fort Birmingham - 11th August 2004
Mark looks like a complete spazz, great.

Bellefire - Heathrow Airport - 4th Sept 2004

Cheryl Cole - Heathrow Airport - 4th Sept 2004
We were actually waiting for V. They didn't appear, but Girls Allowed did.
Top says: "Fuck off, I'm with the band." My mother disowned me for it.

Sam Nixon - BBC London - 16th Sept 2004
This was when Mark's mum died, so he wasn't there.

V - Disney London - 18th Oct 2004

Explanation: He had a spot. I LOLed... a lot.

V - HMV Reading - 12th Nov 2004

V - Park Hotel Nottingham - 15th Nov 2004
OK, so we only really spoke to Mark and Ant, but still.

I also briefly, sort of, me James Bourne and Matt Willis, too.

Sam & Mark - Beacon FM Wolves - 12th Dec 2004

Sam & Mark - Hamleys London - 16th Dec 2004
They thought we were stalking them, but we did actually run
into them by accident on this paticular day lol.

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 20th Jan 2005

Freefaller - BBC London - 20th Jan 2005

Freefaller - Lakeside Essex - 29th Jan 2005
No pics with them, but a couple of the set they did.

Freefaller - Loughborough Uni - 10th Feb 2005

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 3rd March 2005

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 5th March 2005

Freefaller - BBC London - 5th March 2005

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 24th March 2004
Just want to point out they're on the phone to one of my mates here.

Freefaller - Beacon FM Wolves - 14th April 2005
I hate this photo.. =(

Freefaller - Kix FM Coventry - 14th April 2005

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 21st April 2005

Sam Nixon - BBC London - 23rd April 2005
Photographer for this one was sacked.

Sam & Mark - BBC London - 14th May 2005
They spent about half an hour with us on this day - was fab.
There's a video of it all... not so fab haha!

This moment is funnier on camera. As they both lean in and kiss me,
I look like it's the most horrific moment of my life.

Soccer Six - Aston Villa grounds - 15th May 2005
Jamie Davis and Dean Freefaller.

Lee Ryan - HMV Birmingham - 19th July 2005

911 - Flying Handbag Blackpool - 22nd July 2005
The only decent pic is with Lee, please excuse the other two.

Freefaller - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 6th October 2005

Sam & Mark - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 6th October 2005

Son of Dork - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 20th October 2005

Kenzie Friday Hill - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 20th October 2005

Sam & Mark - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 20th October 2005

Ollie Freefaller - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 17th Nov 2005

Sam Nixon - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 17th Nov 2005

Fearne Cotton - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 17th Nov 2005

Freefaller - Trafford Centre Manchester - 24th Nov 2005

Kimberly Walsh - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 1st Dec 2005

Sam & Mark - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 1st Dec 2005

Aaron "V" Buckingham - Pleasance Theatre Islington - 18th Dec 2005

Aaron "V" Buckingham - Covent Garden - 4th Feb 2005
Met Mark this day too, but no pics.

Kenzie Friday Hill - TOTP Reloaded Camden - 23rd March 2006

Soccer Six - Birmingham FC grounds - 14th May 2006
Inc.: Clea, Son of Dork, the Phelps twins, Shane Lynch & Anthony Quinlan.

Sam & Mark - Leicester Square London - 16th Sept 2006

Skins Cast - Secret Location Bristol - 2nd Aug 2007

John Barrowman - Hippodrome Theatre - 21st Dec 2007

Colin Firth & Jessica Biel - Easy Virtue Premiere London - 28th October 2008

John Barrowman - Hippodrome Theatre - 20th Dec 2008

The Hub 2 - Park Inn Northampton - 13th - 15th March 2009
Matt Rippy, Burn Gorman, Tom Price, Gareth David-Lloyd, Kai Owen & Eve Myles.

Well, I wish I'd not done that. It's now 4:36am lmao!

.x.

Writer's Block: Pick and Stick

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 10:46:55 GMT

If you could only eat one kind of cuisine—Mexican, Thai, French, Italian, Indian, Chinese, etc.—for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

View 503 Answers

OMG it would have to be Chinese... I love Chinese food!

And this question is evil right now 'cause I'm on starvation for hospital, boo to you LJ.

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I'm F**ked Up (9/10).

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 21:30:12 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (9/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,450.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 9

Rupert stared aghast at the table in front of him, wondering for a moment if James had gone a tad overboard. Dozens of beer bottles stared back at him, as well as three bottles of vodka, a bottle of Jack Daniels, half a bottle of gin and two full boxes of wine. He was supposed to be having a relatively small birthday party, not the shindig of the year. Admittedly, this would be his last year of celebrating with his fellow Harry Potter co-stars, but that was no excuse for a drunken orgy.

Apparently his brother had different ideas though and thought it a perfect reason to go all out.

‘You did tell me to make sure I got enough,’ James commented, coming up behind him and placing down a bottle of tequila as well. ‘That’s the last of it.’

‘I gave you my credit card to buy a bit of booze, not the entire off-licence,’ he protested, feigning disgust yet failing miserably at it.

Looking at him, James shrugged and handed the card back over with a flourish. ‘Fine, next time you go yourself big brother,’ he responded offhand before clapping Rupert across the back. ‘Shouldn’t you be changed by now?’

Rupert glanced to his watch. ‘Yeah… guess so,’ he murmured before finally making a move to leave the kitchen and head up to his bedroom.

For some reason, two weeks ago, he’d decided that a fancy dress party would be a fantastic idea. Now, however, he wasn’t so sure about it and the second he laid eyes on his costume for the evening, he was extremely tempted to call the whole thing off. It was all in the name of good fun of course, but Rupert wasn’t so sure he was in the having fun kind of mood tonight. Emma’s attitude lately had been getting him down and it had come to the point now where she’d even considered not attending. He didn’t feel much like celebrating if the one person who mattered most to him wasn’t there to see it.

With a heavy sigh, he forced himself not to think about it and changed rather haphazardly into his costume, flinging his jeans and t-shirt onto the ever growing pile in the corner of the room. It wasn’t that he’d picked out anything bad for his costume – in fact, he’d go so far as to say it was brilliant – he just wasn’t interested in even having the party anymore.

By the time he got downstairs, hidden quite happily behind a pair of aviators, people were already beginning to arrive and James was doing a fantastic job of pointing everyone toward the alcohol. He’d lost his own inhibitions well over half an hour ago and was keen to have the other party goers following in his footsteps as soon as. And looking at the state of some of them already, it wouldn’t take him long at all.

For the first twenty minutes or so, Rupert greeted anyone who approached him with a smile and a civil ‘hi’ before making himself scarce once again and hiding away in the conservatory. No one would bother him here; this was one of only two rooms in the entire house out of bounds to his current guests, the other being his sisters’ bedroom on the first floor.

He could hear the party raging inside, but somehow managed to ignore it, drowning his sorrows instead in a bottle of Carling and the possibility that she might show up… eventually.

It was another fifteen minutes before anyone came to look for him and even then, it was only Matt, who flashed him the most sympathetic smile he’d ever bore witness to. That said, it was almost impossible to take him seriously seeing as he was currently trussed up in oversized clothes, a pair of taped up glasses and a lightning bolt drawn across his forehead in black eyeliner.

‘Go on, guess,’ had been his signature line all night.

Strangely, the more people drank, the funnier it started to get.

‘Problem’s not going to go away by sitting out here all night, mate,’ said Matt, flopping down onto the couch beside him. A second later, he plucked the sunglasses from Rupert’s face. ‘What’s this supposed to be then?’

‘Top Gun,’ Rupert responded deadpan as he continued to stare out of the window. He downed his drink in one shortly afterwards and wondered for a moment if he simply ignored Matt, that he would eventually get bored and go away.

‘Right, yeah, course. You are aware it’s rubbish, aren’t you?’

At that, Rupert glanced in his direction and snatched the sunglasses back, muttering, ‘Better not be, cost me forty quid to hire.’

Matt grinned. ‘Ah, he does speak then,’ he laughed and took a swig from the bottle in his hand. ‘Stop being a miserable sod, will you? It’s supposed to be your birthday, not your bloody funeral.’

‘Really? Doesn’t feel like it...’

This time Matt rolled his eyes and all Rupert received was a jab in the ribs. ‘Fuck off feeling sorry for yourself and come back inside. James mentioned something about a cake or...hang on,’ he trailed off, ‘no wait, it could have been a stripper actually, not a cake.’

He perked an eyebrow.

‘See, that got your attention!’ Matt joked. ‘Bloody perve.’

Several minutes later, Rupert found himself being dragged back into the living room and sure enough, he was faced with the sight of his brother stumbling out of the kitchen with one of the biggest cakes he’d seen in quite a while. Twenty-one candle flames flickered and danced as James placed it down on the dinning room table and for the first time all day, Rupert felt a genuine smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

He didn’t need ushering over, he moved without argument and as he leant down to blow the candles out, he noticed Evanna out of the corner of his eye, who whispered quite enthusiastically, ‘Don’t forget to make a wish!’

Rupert had no intention of forgetting; he knew exactly what he was going to wish for and did so quite happily as the people around him chorused a rather raucous verse of happy birthday.

As he looked back up again, laughter and applause filling the room, his gaze fell onto a familiar figure tucked away in the corner by the door. There she was, watching intently, a gentle smile on her face. He faltered a little, couldn’t help it, a breath catching in his throat as he rose to standing. He couldn’t quite believe how relieved he was to see her standing there.

‘Now get cutting!’ James laughed in his ear, startling him as he picking up a knife. ‘We’re not wasting this!’

Rupert glanced over at his brother, forcing a smile onto his face as he took the knife and cut a rough slice. Then, pushing it back into his hand, he quickly said, ‘You carry on, I need to talk to someone,’ before making a dash for it.

Unfortunately, finding Emma proved more difficult than he’d first thought and not ten seconds later, he found himself caught up in a conversation with one of his neighbours. She’d be busy herself by the time he managed to escape again, that much he knew, so tried his hardest to relax and just go with it. She was here now and she wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry, he didn’t need to worry.

‘Have you got another bathroom..?’

Rupert had been in the middle of his second escape attempt when collared by the blonde angel hopping from one foot to the other. She looked desperate; eyes fixed to his in a silent plea, so he relented pretty quickly and lead her in the direction of his on suite to save an argument.

By the time he made his way back downstairs, he found Emma in the hallway, locked in conversation with Bonnie. From a distance it was difficult to tell them apart thanks to Emma’s wig and at first he had to do a double take. She looked a picture in her Daphne costume though and simply gazing at her caused his stomach to do platoon of involuntary somersaults. Christ… that had never happened before.

Swallowing down hard, he was about to approach but found his actions intercepted as someone decided to put DJ Caper on the stereo and the whole place erupted into chaos. He was almost knocked sideways by a stream of people racing down the stairs and by the time he straightened back up again he’d lost her to the masses.

Rupert descended the remaining steps feeling quite dejected and lifted a hand to remove his sunglasses just in time to catch sight of Dan and Evanna having a dance off in the middle of the living room. He watched in bewilderment, laughter bubbling in his throat the longer it went on. Dan was about to get his arse kicked without a doubt.

‘Having fun?’ someone asked him suddenly.

Turning to look at the owner of the voice, his smile softened as he came face-to-face with Emma. She returned his smile and then looked past him, over his shoulder, to what was going on.

‘What on earth is he doing?’ she asked, her soft words laced with mirth.

Rupert shrugged and glanced back to watch Dan. ‘I suspect James has been giving him vodka jelly… it has that effect,’ he said quite seriously. ‘At least, it has that effect on Radcliffe anyway.’

Laughing melodically, she turned back to him and playfully tugged on a lock of her wig. ‘Look, we match,’ she teased.

He smiled, casually moving to fold his arms across his chest. ‘You’ll make a Weasley yet, Em.’ he responded lightly. ‘But it still looks better on me.’

‘I suppose you’re right, yes,’ said Emma, nodding thoughtfully.

‘Thanks.’ Rupert chuckled as he cast his gaze in the direction of the drinks table. ‘So… can I interest you in a drink or something?’

With a nod, she offered her arm and let him lead her over, where he quickly grabbed another beer for himself and an orange juice for Emma (‘Better safe than sorry, right?’). They circled the party several times together, chatting absently to friends, but never daring to stray more than five foot from each other.

Eventually they found themselves at the front door and Rupert pushed it open, following Emma out onto the steps and taking a seat beside her. Above them, the sky remained clear, stars dotting the inky black as far as the eye could see, making it the perfect evening to sit and simply be. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared up into the abyss, bottle of Carling clutched tightly in his hand.

‘Happy birthday by the way,’ she murmured eventually and he looked her way just in time to see the warm and contented smile dance across her features. ‘I still need to give you my present at some point. Don’t let me forget.’

‘I won’t, I’m looking forward to it,’ he told her truthfully.

Emma beamed, although her gaze dropped to her hands where she anxiously began to pick at her nails. ‘Let’s hope you like it then,’ she responded softly. ‘I’d hate to disappoint.’

‘Yeah, that’s never going to happen…’

It wouldn’t either, he knew Emma too well and she, in turn, knew him just as well, if not better. Some bonds were unbreakable and more importantly, unforgettable. There was no one in the world he knew as well as Emma… aside from the possibility of Dan anyway, God love him.

Rupert let a breath go gently, realising that the silence had gone on a little longer than he may have liked. ‘So, you know… how’re things?’ he questioned, forcing himself to break it.

‘Oh, they’re…’ Emma paused and shrugged. ‘They’re fine, really. The teasing’s stopped, so I think they’re all ignoring me out of shame now.’

At that he looked back to the party inside, a small frown crossing his features. He hated to see her down like that, especially when the pain had been caused by people they regarded as friends, too. Sure people could point the finger all they liked, but as for actually putting her through that hell? Well, if wasn’t fair and he was a tad disgusted by it all really.

‘They’re all idiots,’ he supplied eventually.

‘Yeah, they are…’

They shared a fleeting look before Emma burst out laughing, hiding her face away behind her hands. All he could do was watch as her entire body shook with mirth. He just about managed to refrain from joining in and took her drink away before she dropped it, shaking his head in amusement.

By the time she recovered again, he’d placed his beer aside too, and regarded her with a warm smile. ‘Thank you for coming tonight, Em, I really--’

‘Don’t say it!’ she shot, cutting him off and placing a finger to his lips. ‘Of course I’d be here. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be to be honest, and know sometimes you find that really hard to believe…’ She sighed, dropping her hand down again. ‘But you’re – you – Well, you’re one of the only people who has stuck by me and I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you for it.’

‘You don’t need to…’

‘But I do!’ Emma exploded. ‘I treated you like crap and you’re still here and--’

‘Em…’ This time it was his turn to cut her off, his voice gentle as he leant into her and reached out to cup her chin in his hand.

As the pad of his thumb brushed across her cheek, their eyes met very briefly and then before he could chicken out again, he closed the gap between them and kissed her sweetly. It didn’t take him long to lose himself to the moment and she responded enthusiastically, arms coming up to encircle his neck as she pressed her body up against his. Her soft sighs and moans echoed in his head as he trailed curious fingers over her skin.

Emma was first to pull back, eyes alight and cheeks flushed as she bit down impishly on her lower lip. ‘I still need to--’

‘No you don’t,’ Rupert argued softly, cutting her off once again, his eyes searching her face. ‘Apology accepted, OK? Just… I don’t know, don’t say anything else. Please.’

‘I think I can manage that,’ she murmured, embarrassment beginning to show.

He nodded, playful smile on his face as he slid his other hand skilfully over her thigh and leant in to silence her one final time.

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I'm F**ked Up (8/10).

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 18:25:43 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (8/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,155.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 8

The days that followed were a nightmare. Emma had ended up taking the rest of the week off to try and get her strength back up (not to mention hiding from the paparazzi), yet upon her return to set she received no sympathy from anyone whatsoever. Perhaps saying home and never returning would have been a better idea. From the confinements of her house, no one could touch her.

Word spread like wild fire, as did the tabloids lies and she quickly found herself cast out. Getting back in peoples good graces would not be easy, especially if they wouldn’t even believe her.

Her meeting with David could have been counted as one of the worst hours of her life. The looks she received alone were enough to make her want to crawl back to bed, never to emerge again. She could deal with accusations, the teasing, but having someone she respected look at her that way – well, words could not express how it made her feel.

‘So, what happened then?’ Dan flopped down into the makeup chair beside her, his smile infectious.

Emma shook her head, turning away from him and letting her eyes fall closed as she sipped from a glass of water. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured, willing someone – just someone – to believe her for once. ‘It’s all a blur really, I just… I don’t know.’

She risked glance in Dan’s general direction and immediately wished that she hadn’t. As with everyone else she’d tried to convince, his face was a complete picture of disbelief. She really hoped that Dan would have believed her; she’d been convinced of some of his ridiculous stories over the years after all. He was her friend; she had no reason not to trust him and the same should have been said for the other way around.

‘OK…’ he mumbled.

With a sigh, she threw her hands up in frustration. ‘I give up, I give up!’ she cried. ‘I haven’t taken any drugs, ever, and if you won’t believe me either, well… I give up!’

Dan perked an eyebrow, fidgeting a little in his seat. ‘I want to believe you, Em, really,’ he said apprehensively. ‘But you have to admit, you’re not presenting the most convincing case in the world.’

‘It’s the truth, it doesn’t need to be convincing, Dan.’

‘Actually, it usually helps if it is, you know…’ he added, a concerned smile on his face. She wanted to thump him quite frankly, forget having him believe her. She couldn’t take this much longer.

‘No wonder so many innocent people end up in jail,’ she argued. ‘If the jury’s full of idiots like you, society’s doomed.’

‘That’s charming, really.’

‘You had it coming,’ she told him seriously, ignoring his obvious offence. ‘Sorry Dan, but you did.’

One of the makeup girls who had just walked in, shrugged her shoulders at them, her expression amused. ‘You did I’m afraid,’ she said, chipping in with her two cents.

Emma was glad of the backup for once and flashed a smile over in her direction. It didn’t really matter to her whether Lea believed her or not, just having someone treat her like a normal human being was clearly a step in the right direction. It was the little things that mattered now, she needed to focus on that and try and forget all else.

Beside her, Dan was looking a little guilty as Lea did his makeup and weirdly, Emma felt a strange satisfaction overcome her.

For the next hour or so, Emma felt quite positive. Someone had bothered to back her up and when suffering a day like she had, that one simple fact deserved more merit than such a thing usually would.

She skipped back and forth between makeup, costume and her trailer, finding that more often than not the girls in those departments would be really rather sympathetic towards her. They’d playfully chide the boys for teasing and offer her a few words of empathy, and then she’d leave with a new found spring in her step. Perhaps the day wouldn’t be quite as bad as she thought.

It was when she stopped in the canteen just after lunch to grab a snack that things turned sour. The stares she received alone were enough to dishearten even the cheeriest of folks and she found people she didn’t usually notice hard to ignore. Though she tried, took a deep breath, collected an apple and a sandwich and settled down at a table to eat alone.

Usually on set days, Emma found no reason to be self-conscious, but today as the idle banter died away she couldn’t help but think that people were talking about her instead of their own problems. And as if the whispers and stolen glances weren’t enough to contend with already, a random extra thought it would be funny to come up to her and ask, ‘Can you hook me up with your dealer? I’m a bit on the dry side.’

That right there was the final straw to break the camels back so to speak and she scrambled to her feet, abandoning her lunch to simply run away and hide.

Of course, hiding at Leavesden Studios was near impossible. No matter which way you turned you’d come face-to-face with someone from lighting, set design or one of the runners on a supposed mission of life or death. Privacy, what exactly was that anymore? She could go straight to her trailer, but that would be too obvious and they’d find her in five seconds flat.

What she really wanted was to be left alone with time to mull things over.

She eventually found herself somewhere she’d often considered a safe haven in the past. Although that said, in the dark, it all looked strangely foreign, too. It took her several moments until she eventually found a way to switch the lights on and then the Gryffindor common room returned to normal and she felt an immediate sense of relief.

Curling up in one of the armchairs, she pulled her knees up to her chest and stared into the empty fireplace.

She had so many wonderful memories of this set, all the good times and the bad. The tears, the tantrums, the millions of times she’d wanted to kill Rupert for his inane ability to cause her to mess up her lines. Rupert and his giggling fits, no one made her laugh like he did. Not talking to him today was killing her, but she was the one who pushed… she wanted him to get on with a life without her and now she needed to do the same.

Dropping her head down into her hands, she exhaled loudly and raked her hands through her hair; could she really do that?

By the time Emma left the set and made her way back towards her trailer, head held somewhat higher, she spotted a gaggle of people not far from its door. Hesitation came naturally and she slowed her pace, trying to figure out the cause of the commotion as she approached. She couldn’t help the sudden surge of anxiety and mere metres from them; she came to an abrupt halt.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked weakly, her voice cracking as the words tumbled from her lips.

The first to turn and face her was Dan and he looked quite sheepish as he extracted himself from the group. ‘Hey, Em,’ he started, ‘there’s probably something you should know.’

Quizzically, she perked an eyebrow and moved to meet him in the middle of the yard, arms wrapped protectively around herself. ‘Like what?’ her voice was softer now. ‘This is something I really don’t want to hear, isn’t it?’

He shuffled uncomfortably on the balls of his feet and from over his shoulder; she caught a glimpse of Evanna looking down at the floor. Suddenly she wished she’d not even bothered to ask. She should have stayed put and waited for them to come and find her instead.

‘It’s not exactly good news, no,’ Dan told her eventually. ‘See, the thing is, there are a few rowdy mums--’

‘Rowdy mums?’ she repeated, cutting him off in disbelief.

‘Yeah… just outside the studios.’ He nodded, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt awkwardly, head tilting as he observed her. ‘They’re a little wound up about the whole… well, you know.’

Emma sighed, eyes falling closed as she looked to the ground. ‘Drug thing,’ she finished, saving him a job.

You could tell he didn’t want to do this, but for some reason, Daniel Radcliffe had become the messenger for the day and he was clearly about to break the news as gently as he could. ‘David thinks you should release some sort of statement to, you know, cover yourself,’ he continued. ‘’Cause Em, things look like they’re about to turn ugly. You saw what the papers were writing about you, right?’

Nodding, she kept her gaze to the floor. ‘I’m not blind.’

‘Well… you know what parents are like, if it affects their kids, they’ll believe anything.’ Dan shrugged, his expression rather guilty.

‘Why is it that Jamie can get away with a jail sentence and nothing happens? Yet me, me, I get all this crap over something that isn’t even true?’

‘They don’t know that.’

Emma shook her head and took a step back from him, feeling a sudden desire to escape. ‘They? Or do you mean you? What’s the difference really?’ She let her gaze sweep over the small huddle of people in front of her, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Do any of you actually believe me? Anyone at all?’

A collective hush followed; the uncomfortable silence of insecurity. She didn’t need to see or hear anything else to know where she stood, so turned on her heel and fled the scene as fast as her legs would carry her.

After walking the studios for what seemed like hours, she found herself in front of Rupert’s trailer door and tentatively reached up to knock.

He pulled the door open immediately, expression soft and welcoming, almost as if he’d been expecting her to show up at some point. ‘There’s no one here if you want to come in,’ he told her without the need of a prompt. ‘Been kind of quiet around here tonight, everyone’s all caught up in other stuff.’

‘You mean me,’ said Emma simply as she stepped inside.

Rupert merely shrugged in response and leant against the edge of the pool table, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his Ron jeans. ‘Are you OK?’ he questioned earnestly. ‘I heard what was going on…’

To be honest, she didn’t really know if she was OK, so shook her head to answer his question and joined him at the pool table. Looking down at her hands, she sighed heavily. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down upon her now. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Fixing all of this… Well, how could she? Where did she even start?

‘I…’ His voice shattered her reverie and she glanced up just as he reached a hand out to cover hers, fingers brushing over her skin and setting her alight. ‘I’m still here if you need me,’ he finished. ‘You know that, yeah?’

A feeble smile crossed her features before quickly disappearing again. She didn’t deserve him, not in the slightest.

‘Rupes…?’

‘Yeah?’ he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze.

She blinked, suddenly fighting tears. ‘You believe me, right?’

Rupert’s face fell as he realised what she was asking him and then, without warning, her pulled her into a hug as he whispered, ‘Always…’

Protesting was beyond her and she collapsed against him, burying her head into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. She could feel her resolve crumbling as tears threatened to choke her. But maybe that was what she needed now, a way to let her emotions escape before they drove her to distraction.

And that was one very simple, very natural thing she loved about him. If she needed to cry, he would let her. If she needed to scream and shout and throw things around, he would let her do that, too. He let her be who she needed to be and when she strayed from that path, he told her so. She might have ignored him in the past, but Rupert was the only person who had ever been truthful to her and she respected that.

Emma let her emotions pour out and the hold he had on her tightened, his arms encircling her protectively as she sobbed against his shoulder. She’d be soaking his shirt with tears if she carried on and costume would kill them, but she didn’t seem to care.

At least she could count on someone and she knew it right then in that moment, that he loved her no matter what.

.x.

Fic: Primeval: To the Last Man.

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 20:35:06 GMT

Eep, I've done it! Kinda scared about posting this one up, it's been ages since I've written for a new fandom lol, I always get really anxious about it.

Title: To the Last Man.
Author: x_moonshine_x
Characters/Pairings: Connor, Becker, slight Connor/Abby.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: One character death, a dash of angst and just a smidgen of slash (if you squint).
Word Count: 1,726.
Spoilers: Up to and including 3.05.
Summary: After a particularly wearing day, Connor and Becker unexpectedly find comfort in each other, for a little while at least.
A/N: Title is stolen from a Torchwood episode name, but I couldn’t resist.

To the Last Man

At first the sensation, the feeling of complete and utter emptiness was akin to how Connor had felt on that day, a little over a year ago, when he thought he’d lost Abby to the mer-creatures. Being told to do nothing, to go home and simply sit and wait – right then, he’d wanted to die. He’d felt similar today, until it began to sink in at least, and then he merely wished it had been him instead.

First Stephen, then Cutter, and Jenny… well, Jenny had done the sensible thing and got out, but she was still gone and she wouldn’t be coming back. Not now, not ever. Abby was the latest casualty caught in the middle of a ridiculous (probably could have been helped if they’d tried a little harder) accident. Her young life cut short, simply snuffed out. God, Abby… he couldn’t even think about it without feeling physically sick. She couldn’t be gone, she was meant to be there, always; teasing him, baiting him, never quite understanding.

But she was gone and he knew it, too. Lester had actually been quite nice to him since it happened, an action that came as unprecedented proof really. If he was allowed to sit on that pristine leather couch and Sid and Nancy were allowed to run amuck, something pretty shitty had to have happened.

And as kind as everyone was, he still felt like he’d been left there alone. Facing demons with no idea how to kill them, battling on the edge of a precipice, his life hanging in the balance.

Danny and Sarah tried to console him, but they hadn’t been there in the beginning when it had all started. They didn’t – they couldn’t possibly understand how he felt.

How could he be the only one left? It just seemed so, so unlikely. Connor Temple, the last man standing, it was laughable really, wasn’t it?

The very same thoughts had been going around and around in his head for the past two hours, and he didn’t have a clue how to stop them. Haunting memories and thoughts of how he could have prevented it, threatening to send him spiralling over the edge and quickly out of control.

Fortunately, a sharp rap at the door stopped all of that and Connor lifted his weary head from gloved hands the very moment the shouting began.

‘Temple, open the door!’ Becker’s voice rang out across the flat, clear and true.

At first he wondered what on earth the soldier was doing there, but then realised what with their line of work, it could have been anything, so thought about it no more. Instead he let a breath go slowly, loudly, wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his long-sleeved t-shirt and pushed himself to his feet.

By the time he reached the door (which seemed to take twice as long today), the furious banging had begun again, his colleague obviously losing his patience. Connor flung the door open quickly and Becker, taken by surprise, found himself knocking at thin air for several ridiculous seconds.

Connor took a step back, a tad weirded out due to the fact that for the first time since he’d known him, Becker was standing there in his civvies. No gun in sight either, the soldier’s favourite accessory had definitely not accompanied him on this trip. There he was; jeans and a shirt, trainers, unkempt hair and bloodshot eyes. He looked nothing like the man Connor thought he knew, which in turn, both scared and comforted him at the same time.

‘Can I come in, then?’ It was more of a demand than a question and Becker invited himself in anyway without bothering to get the necessary permission.

Connor hesitated before finally pushing the door closed again and awkwardly folding his arms, turning to watch Becker. ‘I told Danny I’d be all right,’ he started. ‘I’m not a child, I don’t need people looking after me twenty-four seven. I want--’

‘This has nothing to do with Danny, Connor,’ said Becker, his words surprisingly soft.

‘No…?’ He couldn’t help the trepidation in his voice. ‘What is it then?’

Connor wasn’t graced with a response and instead, Becker walked further into the flat, taking everything in with great interest. His gaze slid easily over the paintings, bookshelves and mirrors, and then settled abruptly on the bar in the centre of the living room. He casually reached out for the decanter sat atop and almost instinctively, Connor felt the need to stop him.

‘Don’t touch that!’

Becker perked an eyebrow.

‘It’s just – you probably shouldn’t, all right,’ his words fell away with a feeble sigh.

The soldier relaxed and let it alone, his arms dropping down to his sides. ‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ he said then. ‘Abby would still be alive if it wasn’t for--’

‘Don’t,’ Connor cut him short, swallowing hard, not wanting to hear it. ‘I can’t – not again. It’s not your fault.’

‘Lester appointed me to protect you all. If anything happens, it’s down to me; it is my fault, Connor. Don’t try and twist this around on yourself.’ Becker sighed heavily, the despair of a man who had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. ‘It could have been avoided and that alone is down to me.’

Connor found himself arguing again, not wanting to hear anyone blame themselves for what happened, least of all Becker.

‘No!’ he said sharply. ‘You couldn’t have stopped it, no one could. Anomalies are unpredictable, they’re – you just never know. No one saw that coming, but I--’ he cut himself off, realising he was about to lay the blame on himself once again, something he’d chastised Becker for doing moments before. ‘No one’s to blame, no one.’

There, he’d said it, now he needed to accept it, too.

‘Connor…’ The sentence began, but didn’t seem to end. His name just hung there in the air, stopping them both in their tracks.

Eventually Becker broke the silence, his footfalls soft as he took several steps closer. ‘Come for a drink with me, Connor,’ he suggested gently. ‘You never know, it might help.’

When he didn’t offer anything in response, the other man reached for the decanter again, and this time Connor couldn’t find the energy to stop him from doing so. He sank down onto the couch instead, reaching up to loosen the scarf around his neck, eyes falling closed haplessly.

‘Fine,’ Becker continued, finding out glasses for them both, ‘we’ll stay here then.’ He sat down heavily, pouring their drinks effortlessly, and then handed one over to Connor as he placed the decanter on the floor beside his feet.

This seemed a strange situation to be in. Sat in Lester’s oh so perfect flat; drinking whiskey with someone he hadn’t even dared to contemplate a drinking buddy before today, not even once. His hands shook as he drank, but the amber liquid warmed his throat. The afterglow of the alcohol helped, comforted him and made him think of something else, if only for five seconds. He should have thought of this before.

Beside him, Becker leant forwards until his arms came to rest comfortably on his knees, the glass of whiskey hanging limply in his hand.

‘Do this a lot?’ Connor’s tone should have been light, playful, yet the words that spilt from his lips were deadly serious.

To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise him if Becker did. Members of his team, they were always the ones caught in the crossfire. Another man down and Connor never did feel a loss because he didn’t really know them. But Becker did and he was the only one of them who would have to face the impact of another life lost (and the prospect that he was possibly to blame).

‘Connor, you--’ Becker stopped, dropping his head down in defeat. ‘How many more do we need to lose?’

There was no need to expand any further, Stephen often used to come out with similar questions. How many lives would be lost before they began to tell people? Surely the more people that knew about it, the more positive difference could be made? Then again, let a bunch of cocky teenagers know that they can step through a window into the past and it was obvious what could happen; mass slaughter, plain and simple.

It would be too easy, way too easy.

‘You know, some days I wish I didn’t have to do this anymore,’ said Connor weakly. ‘I wake up and I want to quit. But then I think about all the lives we have saved and that’s – it’s worth doing, if we can make some sort of difference.’

Becker shook his head, his gaze moving to the ceiling as his clearly thought through what he was going to say next. ‘You’re taking this way too well,’ he almost choked.

Perhaps he needed to though; losing his head would only cause more pain for everyone – for himself. He could grieve later. He would grieve later. But for now, the wound was too fresh in his mind for him to make sense of it.

‘Why are you here?’ Connor asked suddenly.

Becker’s gaze moved quickly to his face and he swallowed, hard, teeth raking over dry lips. ‘Weirdly, I wanted to talk to someone about this and you’re the first person that came to mind.’

‘Oh.’ He nodded as though he understood, but he really didn’t. Connor couldn’t think straight at the best of times, let alone work out the soldier’s twisted logic after a day like today. ‘OK, that’s – yep.’

‘Would you rather I leave?’

This question, Connor knew the answer to, and quickly shook his head. ‘No, really not at all actually,’ he muttered.

They shared a fleeting glance, deep understanding passing between them, and then merely turned back to sitting in silence. Occasionally Becker would reach out to top up their glasses, but then the quiet would settle again and they’d both get lost in their thoughts.

Connor found his mind to be a less scary place with Becker sat beside him. Strange yes, but somehow it made all the sense in the world. He didn’t want sympathy or consolation, he wanted someone to understand. Becker did, to some degree at least, and that made all the difference really.

.x.

Writer's Block: All About My Mother

Sun, 10 May 2009 18:56:10 GMT

Who is your favorite mother (the character, not the actress) from television or the movies?

View 500 Answers

Molly Weasley. I don't need to say why. She's fantabulous.

.x.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (7/10).

Fri, 08 May 2009 23:07:20 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (7/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,433.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 7

Upon opening her eyes, the first thing that Emma noticed was the blinding white light. Row upon row of UVA strip lighting covered the ceiling above her head and made it near impossible for her to focus on anything. Second to that, the pungent aroma of disinfectant filled the air, tickling her nostrils and making her want to sneeze.

The only sound she could make out in the silence of the hospital; the distant beep of a life-support machine.

She turned her head, trying to ignore the pain it caused her to do so, and came face-to-face with her brother. He didn’t notice her at first, too engrossed in the copy of Top Gear Magazine in his hands. Then he glanced up very briefly and started slightly as his gaze met hers.

Alex smiled, feebly, and lowered the magazine to the bed. ‘How you feeling?’ he asked.

It was a difficult question to answer. She hadn’t been awake for long enough to really know. Her head hurt and that was pretty much all she’d managed to establish so far.

In the end she went with what she knew, lifting a hand to rub her eyes and cringing as her gaze fell upon the IV jammed there. ‘Feel like someone dropped something very heavy on my head,’ she muttered, forcing a dry laugh. ‘Not so good I guess.’

His smile was sympathetic, yet he seemed to hold something back as he passed her a glass of water. ‘Mum’s outside, she’s really worried about you,’ he said seriously. ‘When Rupert called it was like four a.m., we thought something really bad had happened to you, not…’ He trailed off and his smile (what she’d thought was understanding at first) disappeared. ‘She wants you to move back home, Em, permanently.’

Her heart sank as his words registered. She’d well and truly messed up this time. For her family to want her home meant only one of two things; they were worried about the company she was keeping or they thought she was taking drugs – quite possibly a combination of the two. Actually, no, it was definitely a combination of the two.

‘Great,’ she muttered on a breath.

Alex shook his head, taking the glass back now that she’d taken a few half-hearted sips from it. ‘You’re lucky she didn’t have you booked in at The Priory the second she saw you to be honest,’ he admitted. ‘But I think Rupert had something to do with that.’

It was the second time his name had been mentioned and the butterflies in Emma’s stomach gave a little flutter of hope. ‘How long was he here?’ she questioned, feigning timid curiosity.

‘He still is here.’ This time he did smile and cast a glance to the door behind him. ‘Talking to Mum I guess, but he’s been here all night. He called into the studios on your behalf and called your manager and everything,’ he continued. ‘Pretty amazing really after all the crap you’ve put him through lately.’

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off again.

‘And he told me, so don’t try arguing your way out of it.’ Alex shrugged, idly playing with the chain he had around his neck. ‘Don’t know what you did to him, Em, but he bloody loves you.’

Lips curling up into the smallest of smiles, she inched her way up the bed until she was sitting and asked, ‘Can you go and get him for me?’

He rolled his eyes at her sudden change of heart, but headed off anyway, magazine now tucked underneath his arm. She loved Alex to pieces, she really did, yet sometimes his attitude could drive her to distraction.

A little over five minutes later a sleep deprived Rupert appeared around the edge of the doorway. He had a polystyrene cup of what she presumed was coffee clutched in one hand and his mobile in the other, a grim expression etched into his features. ‘Hiya,’ he said softly, stepping into the room. ‘You wa--’

‘Thank you!’ she gushed before she chickened out of it.

He stared at her for several moments before finally collapsing into the chair Alex had vacated a few minutes before. ‘For what?’ he asked, placing his phone down on the bed in front of him.

Emma shrugged, words failing her. ‘Everything you did,’ she responded uneasily. ‘I didn’t – well, you’re the first person I thought to call, so thank you for--’

‘Do you think I would have left you there? Honestly?’

Her gaze dropped down to her clasped hands quickly, a lump forming in throat as she felt hot tears stinging her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t have left her. If anything, Rupert would have been the first person to come to her rescue, no matter what or where she was. He’d always made that pretty obvious to her.

But perhaps that wasn’t the best thing for them.

‘No…’ she whispered weakly.

‘But I can’t--' He caught himself mid-sentence and sighed heavily, his frustration evident. ‘I can’t keep doing this, Em, I can’t. This isn’t us, this isn’t how we work and we’re more than this, you know that.’

The first tear spilled over as she looked up at him and she felt her chest constrict as she willed herself not to start sobbing in front of him. He was right… as usual. They were the good kids, the ones who wouldn’t screw up. She didn’t want to end up spending the rest of her young life in and out of rehab because her friends were driving her down the wrong path. Up until now she’d always been stronger than that. They set an example, she didn’t want to tarnish her imagine, not really.

So what had changed to make her forget all of that?

‘What did the studios say?’ Emma asked finally.

‘Not much,’ he murmured. ‘I spoke to David and he said he’d try and work it out so that they could film something today at least. Dan’s there, so I’m sure there’s… well, it’s not the end of the world.’

‘You should have gone.’

‘Why?’ Rupert shrugged his shoulders. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference.’

She drew a hesitant breath, shaking her head, and then rather abruptly a sob escaped her lips as she caught sight of the IV again. ‘Oh God!’ this time she did wail. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…’ She let her eyes fall closed, hands raking painfully through her hair as she fought to cling onto reality. ‘You shouldn’t – I shouldn’t be putting you through this. You shouldn’t even be here, Rupes!’

~ * ~
The second Rupert dropped his keys onto the side; he heard his mother’s voice call out from the kitchen.

He took a breath, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair and then headed off to face the consequences. She was sat at the table with a freshly brewed pot of tea in front of her and immediately poured him a mug when he came into view. As he sat, he hesitated anxiously, taking it from her.

‘She’s not you problem you know, honey,’ Jo said kindly, catching his eye as she looked up from her drink. ‘I know that you care about her, that she’s a friend, but there’s such a thing as getting too involved.’

He let the breath he’d been holding go, gaze dropping to the table top as her words sank in. He didn’t know how he could possibly make his mother understand his need to over involve himself. ‘Emma needs to know that someone cares for her,’ he supplied awkwardly. ‘Someone who doesn’t need to, someone that just does…’

His mother’s smile faltered and she drank deeply from her mug, eyes closing. ‘I spoke to Emma’s mother, she thinks you should take a step back and let them handle this.’

‘But they don’t under--’

‘Rupert,’ Jo cut off his childish protest with a gentle warning, ’you have to respect the Watsons’ wishes, no matter how hard that may be.’

Annoyed at her words, Rupert shook his head, pushing his mug aside, forgotten. ‘Has anyone asked Emma what she wants?’ he demanded.

‘This is what Emma wants…’

He stopped, stunned into silence, eyes wide as he stared across the table at his mother. This had to be a mistake. Sure, she’d been upset at the hospital for the way things were going, but he didn’t think she would honestly, physically push him away and out of it all.

‘And don’t go calling her the moment you go upstairs either,’ she continued. ‘Give her some time to accept what’s happened over the past twenty-four hours.’

Suddenly he felt like he was ten years old again and it wasn’t a pleasant sensation either. She hadn’t told him what to do like that for an awful long time. Emma was the last person on earth he wanted to hurt, but this made no sense at all, whatever his mother thought was going on.

Finally collapsing onto his bed half an hour later, Rupert spent the next twenty minutes staring up at the ceiling trying to work out what the hell was going on.

But it didn’t matter how many times he went over the evening’s events in his mind, it still didn’t make any sense. She needed him, hadn’t she made that clear? So why push him away again after everything? He thought that finally, this morning beside a hospital bed, they’d made some kind of progress.

Hadn’t they begun to figure it all out?

That one single thought depressed Rupert more than he cared to admit and as he rolled onto his side and picked up his phone, the fact that the solitary message waiting for him was from Dan hammered the final nail into the coffin. When she needed him the most, she’d run away scared.

~ * ~
‘I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while, sweetie, you go and get some rest.’

Gaze fixed to the retreating form of her mother, Emma took her time in making her way upstairs. She unbuttoned her coat slowly, shrugging it from her weary shoulders and casting a sidelong glance to the mirror in the hallway. She wished she hadn’t, the sight that greeted her was anything but pretty. No wonder people were looking at her the way they were, she wouldn’t have recognised herself either.

She’d definitely done the right thing in wanting to keep Rupert away. He deserved so much better than to be burdened with her mess.

Trudging to her room, she perched on the end of the bed once she finally got there, beginning to strip last night’s clothing away. She winced, the pinprick on the back of her hand, a constant reminder of what happened and what she never wanted to happen again.

When at long last she was standing in front of her full-length mirror in nought but her underwear, she took a good look at herself for the first time in months.

Was this what Rupert saw when he looked at her?

Emma couldn’t comprehend the change, her eyes had lost their usual sparkle and her skin – she was so pale. The person staring back at her, she didn’t know who they were. Months of torturing her body had undeniably taken their toll.

Eyes falling closed; she fell back onto the bed, hiding her face behind splayed fingers, shying away from the ever watchful world. This was not what she’d been aiming for while she was out enjoying herself night after night. A few sleepless nights should not have had this effect.

But it had become more than that and she knew it. She tried to ignore it, that was all, and soon fell victim to her own fantasy. Telling herself she hadn’t screwed up made her feel a hell of a lot better.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to face the horror again. Was this what drug addicts looked like in the beginning? Didn’t Rupert used to tell her that she was beautiful? When did he stop? She couldn’t remember. It had been so long since she had stopped and listened to him – really listened to him.

All those times he’d leant in close to her at premieres and whispered how she was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful woman there. Right now those moments seemed like some kind of joke.

Emma could feel the bile rising in her throat, the thoughts she’d pushed aside for so long swirling in her mind as she finally accepted what she was doing to herself.

It hurt to think about it, her heart racing so hard now it felt as though it would burst out of her ribcage. She lifted trembling hands up and raked her hair back from her face, the tears spilling over at last, hot and wet against her cheeks. She actually, truly hated herself right now, hated absolutely everything there was to hate.

A soft knock at the door brought her back to reality with a bump and as she scrambled to pull on a dressing gown, Alex stuck his head around the door.

‘Decent?’ he asked, a timid smile on his face. ‘I brought you some tea.’

She nodded, tying the sash on the gown before roughly wiping at her eyes, trying to hide the fact she’d been crying. She didn’t really know why, it’s not as though Alex would make a fuss over it.

‘Thanks,’ Emma murmured eventually, taking it from him. She sipped from the mug eagerly, but soon wished she hadn’t, turning her nose up the moment she realised how sweet it was. ‘God, did she tip the entire sugar bowl in here?’

Alex laughed, sitting down beside her. ‘Pretty much, yeah,’ he responded, ‘thinks you need it.’

She huffed indignantly. ‘I think I need more than a few cups of sweet tea,’ she argued, casting him a sidelong glance. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think I’m staying out of it actually.’ He shrugged. ‘You two scare me when you go at it.’

‘Sorry…’

Smiling, she gave him a playful dig in the ribs, stifling a small laugh. It felt good, she hadn’t laughed properly like that in quite a while. She hadn’t found a reason to, not really.

‘Just drink that before she murders us both, OK,’ Alex said before getting to his feet again. ‘See you later.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ she murmured, watching him go and then tentatively taking another sip of her tea.

She supposed it wasn’t that bad after all… none of it.

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (6/10).

Mon, 04 May 2009 19:13:51 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (6/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 3,607.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 6

As Emma dropped the shot glass in her hand down onto the bar top, her vision began to swim, her stomach giving an involuntary lurch and doing its best to tell her that she’d had enough. But she couldn’t stop – she didn’t want to stop, drowning her sorrows was the best thing for her right now. Through the blur, she could barely remember what he’d said to her, she could forget that he didn’t want her in his life anymore.

And before she remembered again, she downed another, eyes squeezed tight shut.

She shifted in her seat, pushing a curtain of tangled (not to mention sticky) hair behind her ear and looking back to where her friends were dancing in the middle of the club. Eloise, kitted out in a black mini skirt and halter top, was so closely wrapped around one guy that Emma could barely even recognise her anymore. Kim had a less subtle approach in which she thrust herself at any man who so much as looked in her direction.

They weren’t the ideal friends, but they were fun loving and you very rarely saw them frown. She needed that escape.

‘Why is it you’re not on the dance floor, babe?’

She shook her head, ignoring her drunken stupor long enough to concentrate on the guy who had addressed her. Even in this light, she could tell that he was good-looking and didn’t dress too badly – smelt good too, something that definitely didn’t go unnoticed. He literally smelt of new money. Was that an Armani shirt he was wearing?

‘I’m happy here,’ Emma told him, gesturing in the direction of the optics, almost knocking out one of the bar staff with the glass in her hand while she was at it. ‘They have nice drinks. Pretty colours, pretty, pretty colours.’

The man (also pretty) sat beside her smiled, and a second later she found a fresh drink being placed down in front of her. With a flourish, he dropped a cocktail stirrer into it and said, ‘On me. I’ll get you whatever you want.’

Her dopy smile reached her eyes easily and she picked up the glass, raising it to the heavens with a giggly, ‘Cheers.’ It went down effortlessly and tasted exactly like strawberries and cream. Yummy, very, very yummy indeed! ‘Sweet of you…’

Unfortunately for Emma though, this was one drink too many and literally seconds later, she felt that instinctive gag reflex come into play and half slid, half fell from her barstool, muttering, ‘I gotta go.’ The dash to the bathroom took longer than expected too, as she stumbled into a group of people and very nearly ended up flat on her face in the middle of the dance floor.

She threw herself into one of the toilet cubicles (now a rather unattractive shade of green), bashing her arm on the door in the process, and then dropped down onto her knees. It wasn’t exactly the classiest way to spend an evening, whoever you were, let alone someone well known, but it was better than throwing up on her shoes.

By the time she laid her head down on the porcelain, Kim had found her and poked her head around the door. ‘All right?’ she asked cautiously. ‘Eloise was thinking about maybe heading elsewhere in a few.’

Emma wanted to say no, she really did, yet somehow she just couldn’t form the words and: ‘Sure, sounds good!’ slipped out instead.

In all honesty, she didn’t want to move from that very spot. OK, she was lying all over a toilet bowl (not exactly ladylike), but the cool stone felt heavenly against her flushed skin. She could quite happily go to sleep actually, just close her eyes and drift off into bliss for the rest of the night.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Kim asked, still stood anxiously in the doorway. ‘I could--’

‘No! I’m fine!’ Forcing herself back to her feet, she brushed – well, it didn’t bear thinking about – something from her tights and followed her friend out into the foyer. The moment Kim turned her back, she had to fight another wave of nausea that came upon her, but managed to keep it well hidden and step out into the city with her head held high.

Eloise bundled them into a cab, along with several other people Emma didn’t recognise, and then off they sped into the unknown. As they flew through the streets, city lights a blur, she was forced to close her eyes again. She really hoped they weren’t going too far, it was extremely likely that she wouldn’t last much longer than fifteen minutes of racing through London’s streets without bringing up the contents of her stomach. She may have gone a little overboard with the drinks tonight… definitely a mistake.

When they eventually arrived at their destination and piled out of the cab, she just about managed to resist the urge to go and wretch behind a nearby topiary. The doormen were already giving her weird looks as it was, giving them an actual reason to would only end up making things worse.

Filing in through the doors, one after the other, Emma got a flavour for the new place immediately. Chandeliers, mirrors, glitz and glam greeted them, along with numerous little corners and hideaways for people to get up to whatever the hell they pleased.

This really wasn’t her sort of place and definitely not if she had no one to even be here with.

‘Come on, it’s your round,’ Eloise announced as soon as they found somewhere to sit. The alcohol, unsurprisingly, was doing nothing but making her overtly cocky. Nothing unusual of course, but tonight she was verging on unbearable.

Emma blinked, the words taking a while to sink in. If she made it to the bar in one piece she’d be lucky. But forcing a smile onto her face, she heaved herself up from her seat and headed in that general direction, head spinning the whole way there. She would have rather stayed put, but if there was one person she didn’t want to argue with tonight, it was Eloise.

From her position at the very top of the club, overlooking everything, she finally got a good impression of the place. As suspected, it was your typical high end London club. Pay the staff enough and you could get away with just about anything. The same thing happened in the high end hotels too; diva’s demanding anything and everything and succeeding in making everyone’s lives a living hell.

She wouldn’t dare act that way, younger than the majority of the clientele here, she’d feel a bit of an impostor to be honest.

Instead, she leant over the bar, ordered two white wine spritzers and an orange juice for herself, and then paid quite happily with a twenty pound note.

Upon Emma’s return to the table, she noticed a few platinum cards being flashed around, their respective owners smiles whiter than the cliffs of Dover from a few too many visits to the dentist. Eloise’s new friends were leading the conversation, confidence coming off them in waves as they laughed jovially.

‘What are we talking about?’ she questioned apprehensively, placing the drinks down with a soft clunk.

‘Everything!’ one of them gushed, bright blue eyes twinkling as he spoke. He appeared to be the ringleader; dressed to kill, ridiculously good-looking and married by the looks of things. ‘Why don’t you pull up a pew and join us?’

She hesitated a moment, but then sat down anyway, uneasily tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Five minutes of idle banter passed by and she sat sipping quite happily on her orange juice, chatting animatedly away to their new friends and laughing and joking with Kim. Then, quite suddenly, things shifted and changed and the guy beside her pulled a small polythene bag and a fifty pound note from his suit jacket.

She couldn’t help but be taken aback as he sat there quite brazenly cutting the power into lines on the table top with his American Express card. Around her, no one so much as batted an eyelid, too consumed with their own conversations to care. He hadn’t noticed her watching him either, eyes trained to his task as he idly rolled the note between his thumb and forefinger.

Wrong as it all was, Emma couldn’t draw her gaze away and when he finally glanced over to her, casually wiping his nose, he asked, ‘What? Did you want some?’

~ * ~
As he placed his pint glass onto the table, he reached up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, stifling a soft laugh. ‘That isn’t what I said!’ he protested, still failing (quite miserably) to hide his amusement.

Matt shook his head. ‘Not what you said, no, but deep down you were implying it,’ he said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘I’m not stupid, Rupe.’

‘The answer’s still no…’

There was a strange strangled noise as his companion almost choked on his beer and this time, Rupert couldn’t contain his laughter either. Matt was wonderful and all, but some of his theories and ideas left a lot to be desired. Already tonight he’d accused Rupert of having an affair with Emma, a statement which led to him having to tell Matt what had really happened all those weeks ago.

Eventually everyone would find out, he could accept that, but he didn’t want Emma getting hurt anymore that she already was. She was messed up enough without having to deal with their fellow co-stars asking a load of ridiculous questions.

‘And I still don’t believe you, mate,’ said Matt, continuing to tease. ‘How could you not have thought about it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I don’t find Dan attractive!’ Rupert laughed, his disbelief heard through his words. ‘I have never thought about it, I never plan to think about it. Just no, Matt, no.’

He missed this kind of banter at the moment; he really did, no matter how annoying it got sometimes. With only a few of them filming, days on set were long and lacked the laughter they usual shared while recording Hogwarts scenes.

‘Are you thinking about it now?’

Christ, he really wasn’t going to stop.

‘Shut up.’

More laughter and Rupert picked up his pint, taking a long drink from the glass before closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He’d needed this for a long time; a simple night out with a friend where he could try and stop thinking about everything for once. Things had played on his mind too much, and this was the first time he’d escaped it all in weeks.

‘Do you want another?’ he asked eventually, gesturing to Matt’s empty glass and making a move to get out of his seat.

Anything to get away from his constant teasing for five minutes or so.

By the time he retuned to the table, Matt was busy trying to chat up the leggy blonde who had been stood not far from them with her friends. By the looks of things, it wasn’t going too well, so Rupert perked an eyebrow over in his direction, holding up the beer glass.

Matt ignored him for a couple of minutes and then finally flopped down into his chair in defeat, letting a sigh go and running his hands through his hair. ‘She wasn’t keen,’ he supplied weakly.

‘Gathered that,’ Rupert responded, looking at his friend from over the top of his pint. ‘You gave up quick.’

‘Couldn’t be bother--’

He was cut off by Rupert’s mobile springing to life and for one moment he sat stock still, wondering why on earth he’d chosen that ring tone. Had he even? Maybe someone had changed it for a joke. He didn’t even like Girls Aloud. Although, that Kimber--

‘Are you going to answer that or what?’

Knocked from his thoughts two seconds too late and Matt made a grab for the phone instead; leaving Rupert sat there empty handed as he studied the screen. ‘Emma!’ he announced triumphantly. ‘Wonder what she wants, hmmm?’

Having no time to argue, he was forced to sit in silence as Matt answered the call. What he didn’t predict though was the way his friend’s face fell nor the way he hastily handed it back over, murmuring, ‘I think you should talk to her maybe…’

Confused, Rupert took the phone back and spoke slowly. ‘Em?’ he questioned. ‘Everything OK?’

At first he was greeted with silence, but then, very softly, he heard her whisper, ‘Rupes… I’m scared…’ She didn’t sound right, that was for sure. ‘I can’t – I don’t--'

‘Where are you?’ he asked, cutting her off gently.

A sniffle and she began muttering, ‘I don’t – I don’t know, I don’t feel well.’ She exhaled loudly. ‘Too many people, I can’t breathe…’

Rupert glanced to Matt, expression grim, and then gestured to the door. His friend didn’t need much convincing and a minute later they were out on the street, attempting to hail a cab. He had no idea where she was, but if he could keep her talking, maybe he’d find out eventually. The sound of her sobbing in his ear broke his heart. Hanging up wasn’t an option though; he couldn’t let her go when she needed him most.

‘Tell me where you are, Em?’ he prompted again, shrugging haplessly at the cabbie when he asked where they were going. ‘I’ll come and get you. It’ll be fine.’

It took time and quite a bit of patience, but eventually he got a name from her lips and fell back into his seat, clutching his phone anxiously in his hands. The drive there seemed to take forever and after Matt threw twenty pound in the driver’s direction, they finally leapt out, making a dash for the doors.

They got as far as the velvet rope when one of the bouncers called out, ‘Hang on lads, there’s a list! You better be on it.’

Rupert froze and Matt ran straight into the back of him, almost knocking him over while he was at it. ‘You have a guest list?’ he asked once he’d composed himself again.

‘Yeah, we have a guest list.’

They were forced to move back onto the street as the doorman ranted to them, pointing outlandishly to the clipboard in his hand and making a show of the fact their names weren’t anywhere on it. Rupert felt his temper flare, clenching his fist slightly at his side. He needed to get inside, he needed to find Emma – he’d promised her.

‘Will two hundred get us in?’

The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, but he honestly couldn’t think of another way right now.

Unsurprisingly, the doorman raised his eyebrows and snorted indignantly. ‘I don’t take bribes.’

‘Fine.’ He sighed, closing his eyes and turning away. ‘Five hundred?’

A hesitant pause followed and then the man in front of him shrugged his bony shoulders, unhooking the rope and letting them past.

Once Rupert had dealt with payment, he started on inside, Matt right behind him as he scanned the crowds for any sign of Emma or her friends. On his first sweep of the club, he came up with nothing, which probably meant they’d need to split up… a rather daunting task to say the least. He glanced back to Matt only to come face-to-face with a look of disbelief and raised eyebrows.

‘What?’ he shot irritably.

‘I can’t believe you just did that, you never do anything like that…’

‘Yeah, well… it’s Emma.’

Matt smiled, his expression softening as he asked, ‘Splitting up?’

A nod was all it took and then they headed off in opposite directions, Rupert taking the tables and Matt the dance floor. He already had a bad feeling about this and as he walked deeper and deeper into the club, the feeling only proceeded to get worse. No one seemed to care in here. They didn’t care what they looked like nor who saw them and on more than one occasion, he had to avert his gaze thanks to the show people were putting on.

By the time he reached the end of the bar, he was extremely close to losing it and as he turned to search out Matt again, a familiar figure flitted past him.

He abandoned ‘Plan A’ immediately and gave chase, catching hold of her wrist several seconds later (perhaps a little tighter than he should have) and spinning her back around to face him. ‘Where is she?’

Eloise gaped at him, her blue eyes wide and forgoing when she eventually shook him off. ‘Where’s who?’ she spat back.

‘Emma for Christ’s sake! Who do you fucking think?’

Telling himself that he wouldn’t lose his temper, he took a step back from her, raking a hand roughly through his hair instead. He already wanted to lunge at her and demand she tell him everything she knew, but who would that help in the long run? No, he needed to be his usual calm and collected self for as long as was humanly--

‘She went off with one of the guys.’

That was long enough.

‘And you let her?’

‘She’s not a child, you might want to try remembering that,’ she said quite smoothly. ‘She doesn’t need you or anyone--’

‘I FOUND HER!’

Eloise forgotten, Rupert turned to see Matt walking briskly in his direction, so settled on his priorities and went after him to find Emma.

Curled up in the corner of a booth, knees pulled up to her chest and eyes darting around wildly, she embodied absolutely everything that she wasn’t. The Emma Watson he knew had disappeared completely and the fragile girl left in her place… he didn’t recognise her at all. She was like a ghost, nothing but an empty shell.

He approached her tentatively, reaching a hand out as he slid into the seat beside hers. ‘Em?’ he murmured. ‘It’s OK, we’re – we’re here now. We’ll take you home.’

Something somewhere clicked and she looked up at him, tears forming in her bloodshot eyes. ‘It’s too loud…’ she mumbled.

‘The music, I know. We’re leaving now.’

But Emma shook her head and trembling fingers grasped onto the front of his shirt, pulling him down. ‘Voices, I can hear voices,’ she told him seriously. ‘They’re everywhere, thousands of them. I think they’re after me, Rupes.’

‘She’s taken something, she has,’ said Matt suddenly.

Rupert looked back to him, lifting an eyebrow in astonishment. There was stating the obvious and then there was stating the obvious Matt Lewis style. No one did it quite like him.

‘Come on, Em, time to go...’ he said softly, forcing an encouraging smile onto his face.

Not wanting to wait any longer, he grasped her hand with a firm grip and coaxed her from the table and into his waiting arms. She fell against him, shivering from head to toe, burying her head against his shoulder immediately.

Arm encircling her waist, he turned to head for the exit and found Eloise stood there looking suitably guilty. He said nothing to her, but brushed past her instead, scooping Emma up into his arms the moment they were free of the tables. As he made his way through the crowds, he heard a shout somewhere behind him just as Matt caught up, ‘I had nothing to do with this, don’t blame me!’

‘She made a few uncalled for comments, so I told her what for,’ he laughed, ushering people out of the way as they reached the exit.

The cabbie, still waiting at the curb, jumped from his seat and opened the door for them, a crooked smile appearing on his wrinkled face. ‘In you get,’ he said kindly. ‘Where we heading now?’

Rupert’s gaze met Matt’s and a collective silence followed before he murmured, ‘The hospital…?’

Sensing it was the right thing to do, Matt nodded to the cabbie, confirming it and then pulled the door closed with a bang, settling into the seat nearest the driver so he talk to him during the drive. Opposite, Rupert clung onto Emma protectively, rubbing her back and whispering to her, trying to keep her with him. She’d already almost fallen to sleep in his arms on the way outside and he needed to do everything possible to keep her awake. He didn’t want to risk losing her over something as trivial as this.

‘I want to sleep…’ she muttered into his shirt.

Starting slightly, he moved to sit her up again, holding her face in his hands and smiling at her encouragingly. ‘Not yet Em, stay with me, OK?’ he said. ‘I need you to keep talking to me.’

‘But I don’t want to…’ Her eyes drooped slightly and she sighed, her face now obscured behind her hair. ‘Let me sleep, please.’

‘Hey no, no. No sleeping on my watch.’ Rupert tipped her head back up, so he caught her wavering gaze. ‘Look at me, Em,’ he breathed. ‘We can talk about anything you want, absolutely anything at all. I’m even willing to let you start telling me how to dress.’

It was no use; she could barely focus on his face, let alone his voice.

‘Emma… Em… just listen to me… please.’

Matt shot him an anxious look from the other side of the cab and that was all it took, a very brief lapse in his concentration and her body fell limp in his arms, eyes rolling up into her skull.

‘Shit!’

.x.

Fanmix: Harry Potter: You Look Great... The Soundtrack [Rupert/Emma].

Mon, 04 May 2009 16:46:44 GMT

I've spent so much time on this fic (seriously, it's taking over my life) that during the course of it, certain songs have stuck out in my mind that go along with it perfectly. So in the end I decided to just go for it and create a proper soundtrack.

The 14 tracks are laid out in such a way that they follow the plot/flow of the story itself and hopefully enhance it too ;)

Click below for the songs in true fanmix style!

You Look Great When I'm F**ked Up (The Soundtrack)

Because even the strongest friendships need testing sometimes...

(Artwork by thenarnianqueen, thanks hun!)

Click the titles to download.

1/Make Love to Me Forever/Snow Patrol
So stay by my side and hold onto my hand
Try to teach me that I'm alright, I guess
But there's so much wrong, but there's so much right

2/Just Like Heaven/Katie Melua
Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe his name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone

3/Poker Face/Lady Gaga
Russian roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun

4/Numb/Encore/Jay-Z & Linkin Park
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

5/When I Grow Up/Pussycat Dolls
When I grow up I wanna be famous
I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies
But be careful what you wish for cause’ you just might get it
You just might get it, you just might get it

6/Said It All/Take That
When the tears fall away and there’s no conversation
There’s nothing left to break that’s not already broken
You’re staring into space and every inch of silence
Been standing here for days, and days

7/It’s My Life/No Doubt
It’s funny how I find myself in love with you
If I could buy my reasoning I'd pay to lose
One half won't do
It's my life, don't you forget
It's my life, it never ends

8/This Is How I Disappear/My Chemical Romance
Can you hear me cry out to you?
Words I thought I'd choke on figure out
I'm really not so with you anymore
I'm just a ghost
So I can't hurt you anymore

9/Lost/Katy Perry
Is there a light, is there a light
At the end of the road
I'm pushing everyone away
'Cause I can't feel this anymore
Can't feel this anymore
Have you ever been so lost
Known the way and still so lost

10/Better Than That/Darius
Now there's nothing more to say
I'm missing the girl I knew
While kissing the broken you
But it's not up to me...

11/Cigarettes and Alcohol/Oasis
Is it my imagination
Or have I finally found something worth living for?
I was looking for some action
But all I found was cigarettes and alcohol

12/Best for Last/Adele
I'm still hoping one day I might hear you say
I make you feel a way you've never felt before
And I'm all you need and that you never want more
Then you'd say all of the right things without a clue
But you'd save the best for last
Like I'm the one for you

13/Footprints in the Sand/Leona Lewis
I see my life flash across the sky
So many times have I been so afraid
And just when I thought I've lost my way
You give me strength to carry on

14/You Look Great When I’m Fucked Up/Brain Jonestown Massacre
[Instrumental]

Bonus Track
Sober/Pink
Aahhh, the night is calling
And it whispers to me softly, "come and play"
But I, I am falling
And if I let myself go I'm the only one to blame

>>READ THE FIC<<

Enjoy! =D

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (5/10).

Sat, 02 May 2009 22:05:03 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (5/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,228.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 5

Eyes closed, head tilted skyward, Emma let the breeze from her electric fan wash over her. The temperature had soared dramatically over the weekend and whenever she got the chance, she ran back to her trailer, locking herself away with the only breeze she’d managed to find.

Since her argument with Rupert on Friday night (well, Saturday morning) she’d barely slept a wink. She had drunk too much also, the alcohol obviously still in her system.

She couldn’t focus on anything, let alone the job she needed to do. Rupert’s questioning glances didn’t help her either. She could see the accusation in his eyes every time she looked his way. It was all such a mess now. Things had actually gotten worse between them over the course of the day.

He first approached her just past eight in the morning, mussed up hair and sleepy eyes.

Their conversation had been very brief, consisting only of him telling her she needed to be on set at nine and that Dan was running late. He said nothing more, didn’t even grace her with a smile. Simply turned on his heel and got as far away from her as he possibly could.

And it hurt like hell, she wouldn’t lie…

After that, Rupert had chosen to leave her well alone, sloping off into a corner once David called time on the scene and hiding behind his mobile phone until they started filming again.

Approaching was out of the question, so back to her trailer she’d gone, curling up on the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest as she cried herself into a false sense of security. She could make the pain stop if she cried hard enough. The dull ache of rejection replaced with a numb pounding in her head. She had forgotten how to deal with reality – how to deal with him.

On the night they slept together, she had been at a particular low. The combination of both working and playing hard had brought her close to breaking point. His concern had been genuine and heartfelt and her feelings for him had clouded her judgement. It had been the wrong time completely and now he wanted in her life, he wanted to help her through the mess she’d made, something Emma really wasn’t ready for just yet.

She didn’t know how to stop anymore. Sure, things had been a little weird on Friday, the way everything had been brought out into the open the way they had, but she had fun with her friends… if other people didn’t get in the way anyway. She wouldn’t have spent so much time with them if she didn’t.

Emma squeezed her eyes tight shut as there came a knock on the door, a kind voice calling out from the other side, ‘We need you on set in fifteen minutes, Emma, honey.’

It was the only thing keeping her going right now, working. She could rely on it, the same repetitive motions, over and over again. Rupert’s presence was no hindrance, not really, just a reassurance that nothing had changed.

But she couldn’t concentrate, not today.

On the walk over to the set, she felt a strange dread begin to consume her. She had no idea if she was doing a good job today or not. David kept giving her odd looks and during takes, Dan would have to nudge her, knock her from the strange trance she kept finding herself in.

Her head was so fuzzy and unfocused, her heart racing each and every time she looked in Rupert’s direction. There he was, the perfect reminded that, yes, she was still alive, she could feel.

When they broke for dinner, Emma swallowed down her pride and tentatively made her way over to where he was stood chatting with Evanna. He turned quickly and she saw his expression change from cheery to downright disappointed the moment he came face-to-face with her. Somehow that hurt more than anything he ever said could. For one of the first times since she’d known him, Rupert didn’t look pleased to see her.

‘Can we talk?’ she queried, her words so quiet she wasn’t sure whether he heard her or not.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his attention focused on the watch he was wearing instead. ‘I think you said pretty much all you wanted to say on Friday.’

Sensing the tension, Evanna quickly made her excuses and skipped off to the canteen. Emma couldn’t help but wish she’d stuck around, she could have used some moral support from another girl.

She hesitated, gaze dropping down to her feet. ‘You what I said was the truth, Rupes,’ she murmured. ‘We are different, we’re--'

‘You’re right,’ he cut her off, quite confidently as well, although there was an edge to his voice that didn’t have her completely convinced. ‘We’re too different to be friends, which leaves us with only one other option, I guess, to be more than that.’

Glancing up at him, she felt her mouth go dry and realised she was actually lost for words now.

‘But I don’t think – no, I know that you don’t want that either, do you?’

Emma shook her head, eyes falling closed as she accepted defeat. ‘No…’ she whispered on a breath. It wasn’t a lie, not really, even though it pained her to say it.

This time he looked at her, but she didn’t see, too consumed by her own despair and regrets. ‘There’s nothing else to say then, right?’ he said, voice void of any kind of emotion now. ‘We’re done?’

The world came crashing down around her faster than she ever thought possible. She’d heard what he said, but understanding what that meant, it was beyond her. Rupert wasn’t the type to just give up was he? Was he? She had known forever that he had a crush on her, yet just recently, his pursuit had ceased. The coy looks he’d give her stopped as quickly as they started. The subtle way he always found a way to touch her somehow, he didn’t do it anymore. In fact, he’d not done it in months.

Sure, she’d never really paid attention before, but that was because it was Rupert. She was so used to him being around that perhaps, just perhaps, she had begun to take him for granted. To simply assume that he would always be around for her to fall back on when her next relationship went wrong was ridiculous. It made sense that eventually he would have tired of it, given her one last chance and then severed all ties.

Emma had officially allowed him to do it, too.

Her life was turning into a movie and she was the popular girl at school, the one who got exactly what was coming to her at the end of the story.

Rupert would always be the good guy, the character the audience could easily identify with. Comical, caring, wore his heart on his sleeve and, stupidly some might say, head over heels in love with her, the popular girl.

She ignored him, naturally, in favour of sticking with the popular guys, the idiots who would only end up breaking her heart and making her look like a complete fool in the end. But she couldn’t help herself, even though she knew how stupid she was being. The popularity contest always, always won out.

They were at completely different ends of the spectrum, yet somehow always managed to meet in the middle… until now.

Emma had been stood alone in the yard for quite some time. Her failure to supply Rupert with an answer had told him exactly what he needed to know and he’d left her there alone.

Overhead storm clouds were gathering, she needed to move, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to do it.

~ * ~
Sat in the canteen, Rupert was doing his best to be British; ignoring the horrific weather and eating chips, covered in lashings of tomato ketchup of course.

Every now and then he would glance to the window and watch the raindrops race down the glass. The heavens had opened up ten minutes ago and as far as he could tell, this storm was not going to let up for quite some time. Members of the crew would dart back and forth, multicoloured umbrellas held high, jackets aloft to protect their precious hair. If he had any choice in the matter, he wasn’t going to move an inch until it stopped.

Opposite him, Evanna was sat staring dreamily out of the window, her chin resting in her hands, blue eyes wide. He couldn’t help the gentle laugh that escaped him at the sight; they could not have cast anyone better if they tried. She was perfect in every single way.

‘I love this weather,’ she supplied eventually. ‘It’s really… pretty.’

Alfie, who had just taken a seat beside her, perked an eyebrow.

‘No, really, I mean it, I do,’ continued Evanna. She hadn’t even looked their way, yet somehow knew exactly how they were going to react and spoke accordingly. ‘When do you suppose we’re going to start filming again? I was hoping to see Katie tonight.’

‘No idea,’ Rupert said, smothering another chip in sauce and idly popping it into his mouth.

‘It’s been a long day today, hasn’t it?’ she remarked. ‘Longer than usual I mean. But perhaps that’s just me.’

Shaking his head, he chipped in with a half-hearted, ‘Not just you.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled brightly and then picked up the apple in front of her, taking a large bite. ‘That’s good.’

Rupert chuckled, nonchalantly picking up a knife and dragging it through the ketchup, patterns forming on his plate as he trailed it around.

Several moments later, Dan flung himself into the chair beside his, knocking the knife from his hand and onto the plate with a loud clatter. They stared at each other in bewilderment at first and then Dan came out with a simple, ‘Hello.’

‘We were just discussing the weather,’ Evanna announced, looking up from her apple.

He nodded thoughtfully, folding his arms on the table top as he reached out and pinched one of Rupert’s chips. ‘Christ, has it really come to that already? Isn’t the weather usually the last month’s topic of conversation? You’ve hit your peak too soon guys.’

‘We weren’t talking about the weather,’ Alfie said then, quite indignantly. ‘We were talking about--’

‘I’m quite sure we were, for a little while at least,’ she argued, apple long forgotten on the table top. ‘Maybe you weren’t, but we definitely were.’ She smiled and returned to gazing out of the window. ‘Is that Emma?’

They’d given up listening to her, so she had to ask at least twice before anyone even realised she was asking a question. Rupert blinked, the words sinking in slowly, and then moved his gaze over to the window once more. Sure enough, there in the middle of the yard in the torrential rain was Emma, stood quite still with her arms wrapped around herself.

No one paid much attention to begin with, they simply watched, but then Alfie cleared his throat and asked, ‘Do you think we should go and get her?’

A silence followed and then the scuffle of people jumping out of their seats. Rupert rather ungracefully managing to fall over his as he grabbed the jacket he had slung over the back of it, but raced for the exit.

When they piled out of the doors, he succeeded in pushing his way to the front, jogging across the muddy ground to where she was stood. Upon reaching her, jacket now draped over his arm, he placed his hands to her face and forced her to look up at him. She was soaked to the bone, as white as a sheet and shivering uncontrollably.

He tried his hardest to ignore the others surrounding them and placed his jacket over her shoulders. ‘Hey Em…’ he tried softly. ‘Wanna come inside?’

As she returned his gaze, Rupert took a step back, dropping his hands down again. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in her presence after the conversation they’d had that afternoon. She probably didn’t want him near her at all, so this wouldn’t be helping. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t stand watching her do this to herself. She was in a downward spiral and he had absolutely no clue what to do to help her.

‘Emma? What’s wrong?’

Dan unceremoniously shoved him aside and deciding it wasn’t worth fighting, he moved out of the way, drawing in a hesitant breath.

Around them the rain continued to fall and he could feel her slipping away from him. Yes, he’d pushed her away, perhaps a little further than he planned to, but he didn’t want this. He couldn’t understand this – whatever it was – at all.

He continued to hang back as Dan and the others led her inside, wondering whether it was worth following or not. As soon as one of the crew got involved they’d probably all be told to sod off anyway. Going with them would only be delaying the inevitable. He’d already cut himself loose, there would be no point in confusing her anymore.

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (4/10).

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 19:44:21 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (4/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,661.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.
A/N: I have no idea if there’s a girl called Sam in wardrobe, but if there isn’t, there is now!

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 4

One foot after the other, taking it steady, walking towards your death, blood pumping fast and furious in your--

‘CUT!’

Everyone on set jumped a mile as David’s voice rang out across the room. His shout cut through the silence like a knife through butter. Five seconds ago you could have heard a pin drop, but now – now – everyone was on tenterhooks, muttering to themselves as they waited to see what the problem was.

‘Sorry guys,’ David finally spoke again, his words laced with both mirth and apology. ‘But Dan, you look constipated…’

An extremely brief silence followed and then Rupert began to laugh as he laid eyes on his friend’s dumbstruck face. The rest of the crew quickly followed suit and from the red faces and smudged make-up dotted about the place, it was pretty clear they wouldn’t be getting in another take for quite some time. Way to go David!

By the time they got the scene wrapped, time was pushing on and a glance to the clock in make-up soon told him that it was almost eight thirty. He’d be lucky if he got home for ten now and originally they were supposed to be going out for a family meal. Things never went according to plan these days, there were too many obstacles stood in the way.

Deciding a change in his plans wouldn’t hurt; Rupert caught hold of Emma near the exit and smiled at her hopefully.

‘Emma,’ he started softly, ‘do you fancy getting something to eat with me?’

She stared to begin with, her Bambi eyes wide and unsure. Then the fidgeting began; a glance to the left, a tug on her sleeve, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She was about to make an excuse as to why she couldn’t and he knew immediately that he wouldn’t like it.

‘I’m going out tonight. I’m already late as it is. Maybe we could do some--’

‘I could come with you!’ He really had no clue why he’d said it, but the words had just spilled from his lips like verbal diarrhea, completely unstoppable. ‘I haven’t been out in ages, it might be… nice?’

Christ, what an idiot.

Emma continued to stare, but then she shrugged her shoulders and glanced over toward her trailer. ‘OK, I guess,’ she responded. ‘My driver’s supposed to be taking me into London, so if you want a lift he’ll be in the car park in twenty minutes.’

Nodding, Rupert turned on his heel and pegged it back to his trailer. He had absolutely nothing to wear. Oh God, he’d have to ask Dan if he could borrow something and they were nowhere near the same size! Raiding costume was out of the question, not unless he wanted to go out on the town in dress robes anyway. Tempting, but he wasn’t that desperate yet. He needed shoes and a jacket and he needed them now.

It wasn’t going to happen either, it really wasn’t.

Pulling open the tiny wardrobe of his trailer, he was straight on his knees and throwing Converse left, right and centre. There had to be something other than trainers in there surely. But a minute or so of rifling soon told another story, apparently there wasn’t.

With a soft sigh, he got back to his feet, brushing the lint from the knees of his jeans and pulling out an army jacket. He couldn’t look the same as he did every other day or else Emma would kill him. Besides, celebrity or not, he doubted they’d let him into a top London club in a pair of dog eaten All Stars.

There was nothing for it; he would have to ask one of the girls in wardrobe for some help. If he managed to catch them before they left anyway.

Rupert made sure he had everything that he needed and then dashed over to wardrobe quickly, stepping through the double doors just as Sam pulled her messenger bag onto her shoulder. Hearing the doors, she stopped dead, her eyebrows lifting in amusement as she spotted him. ‘Rupert, hi, everything OK?’ she asked, her lips curling up into a small smile.

‘No…’ He shook his head, tucking his hands into his pockets. ‘Can I borrow some shoes?’

Thankfully Sam came through for him and ten minutes later he was greeting Emma’s driver, Nigel, like an old friend. Emma herself appeared shortly afterwards and as he glanced in her general direction, he developed a rather serious case of butterflies, having to do a double take. Dressed in a sheer black dress, waistcoat and high heels, she did a fantastic job of making him forget what on earth he’d been saying only seconds before.

when i grow up, fresh and clean
number one chick, when i step out on the scene

‘Ready?’ she asked, tilting her head curiously and flicking a lock of blonde hair from her eyes.

Assuring her that he was, he opened the car door and then slid in beside her once she was seated, a hesitant breath catching in his throat. He was mere seconds away from falling apart. It had been two weeks since they were last in a car together and his composure was no better, nor his attention span.

Beside him, Emma crossed her legs awkwardly and as Nigel drove out of the studios, Rupert very fleetingly caught her gaze. There was some kind of tension lingering in the air and he knew he’d need to say something soon. They could hardly drive all the way into London without saying so much as a ‘you look nice’ or a ‘went well today, didn’t it?’ to each other.

‘I wanted to--’

‘What are you--?’

He laughed and noticed her head drop into her hands as she did the same, blonde hair flying wildly. Yeah, this was stupid all right; they needed to get over it as soon as possible.

‘Sorry,’ murmured Emma.

A shrug and there was that silence again. He didn’t know what to say to her. Perhaps, just for now, it was better to stick with what they knew. Silence was golden after all. And what a stupid bloody expression that was.

when i grow up, i wanna be famous
i wanna be a star, i wanna be in movies

Eleven o’clock and Rupert led the way toward the bar, Emma and her friends filing in behind him. Eloise, the friend who had verbally abused him via the phone two weeks ago, was particularly quiet. Apparently he could make girls speechless upon occasion, despite what Dan was so insistent to make him believe. OK, not in the way he hoped, but still, it was a step in the right direction.

‘Oh fucking hell, I do not need this!’

He’d just picked up his first pint when Eloise decided to make herself known quite abruptly. She was staring across the room, face like thunder and clutching her glass so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

Emma was doing a good job of ignoring everyone; body pressed up against the bar and eyes glued to the drink stirrer she was twirling around in her cocktail glass. She didn’t look particularly happy with his ongoing presence. But he felt better for being there. He was watching over her like an overbearing older brother somewhat, but perhaps after the way she’d been behaving lately that was what she needed.

It didn’t take long for him to realise that the girls weren’t interested in his input and upon downing his second pint, he leant in closer to Emma and asked, ‘Do you want to dance?’

Her eyebrows shot straight up into her hairline. ‘I have seen you dance remember,’ she said very playfully. ‘You might want to try asking someone who doesn’t know you’re going to step on their foot every ten seconds.’

‘I’m not that bad!’ protested Rupert.

Of course he knew how much he sucked, although that wasn’t going to stop him tonight. She got to do this all the time, he never did, there was a time and a place for behaving (being a boring sod more like it) and this wasn’t it.

‘Come on, Em, please…’

Emma’s reluctance didn’t last long and she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief as she placed her drink down. ‘Fine then,’ she muttered. ‘Come on.’

Rupert reached out for her hand, smiling as she clasped it and hopped down off her barstool. He then intrepidly led her toward the dance floor, ignoring the stares they were undoubtedly receiving. Neither of them could go anywhere anymore without someone bothering them; be it fan, some drunken idiot or a photographer.

Of course, Emma had it worse. But she would, she was the girl and her behaviour just lately only succeeded in encouraged them all. The photographers of London town were like rabid dogs.

when i grow up, i wanna see the world
drive nice cars, i wanna have groupies

As a general rule, he didn’t make a habit of dancing around to the Pussycat Dolls in the middle of a crowded club on a Friday night. In fact, no, he never made a habit of dancing around to the Pussycat Dolls; it didn’t matter where the hell he was.

She was in her element of course, a bright and infectious smile on her face and she moved her body in perfect time to the beat. It wasn’t long before Rupert found himself simply staring at her, transfixed to the way her hips rolled and her fingers danced through her hair. He wouldn’t be able to hold off not touching her much longer without the fear of combusting.

When she turned back around to face him, her snakelike arms dropped down rather suddenly and her gaze, glassy and unfocused in the strobe lighting, moved to the floor.

Caught red-handed and no amount of grovelling would get him out of that.

Emma didn’t move at first, her expression becoming anxious, but then she closed the gap between them and he suddenly found it quite hard to breathe. He was tempted to back off, although she didn’t give him time and put a stop to that, grasping onto the front of his jacket and looking up at him through her eyelashes. ‘I thought you wanted to dance with me,’ she said.

‘Aren’t I?’ he questioned, heart leaping rather abruptly into his throat as she tugged him closer still.

Shaking her head, she smiled up at him and murmured, ‘You’re not close enough. You look like you’re dancing with that girl over there, not me.’ Her tone was light, playful, she didn’t care.

The breath Rupert had been holding he let go again, a shaky laugh accompanying it. She was his friend, he needed to stop being an idiot and think they were anything more. What happened two weeks ago had been a mistake; she’d needed somebody and he’d been there, simple as. He was reading too much into--

Jesus! Maybe not!

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as her hips ground into his. Friends did not do that, no matter how close or drunk they were. Especially them, they did not do that.

Gaze dropping downwards in embarrassment more than anything, he swallowed down hard. Emma’s not so subtle action had caused an almighty rush of blood to one less than forgiving part of his anatomy. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice though and he would be able to leave the club tonight with his dignity still in tact.

By the time she slipped away from him and headed back up to the bar, he’d managed to compose himself again and merely laughed to himself over the whole ordeal. As he looked around the club, he noticed a girl stood several feet away from him staring. She was alone, no sign of any of her friends around. Feeling a little unnerved, he quickly made a beeline to where Emma and her friends had congregated, avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

‘Why is he hanging around like some kind of lost puppy dog?’

He came to a stop not far from them upon hearing the comment, and then chose to conceal himself behind a small group of people so he could hear what was being said without being seen. Unsurprisingly, Eloise was the one leading the conversation, her head held high and hands placed on her hips.

‘He isn’t, he’s just…’ Emma trailed off and Rupert felt a little disheartened by her lack of enthusiasm.

‘Well, can you tell him to go away?’ Eloise again, voice loud and indignant. ‘How am I supposed to have a good night with him lurking around watching all the time? It’s like having my sodding brother following me around and you know how much I hate him.’

‘I can try, but I--’

‘I don’t care if you fancy him, Em, just get rid of him!’

Closing his eyes a moment, Rupert placed a hand to his head and took a step back; coming out tonight had been a mistake. Deciding in the end to simply save her the trouble and leave, he headed back the way he’d come, hands shoved into his pockets. The last thing he wanted was to hang around somewhere he wasn’t appreciated.

Emma caught up to him as he was stepping through the front doors and out onto the street. She came clacking sown the stairs, breathing hard as she called out, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

Looking back to her, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly. ‘Getting out of your way, Em,’ he responded, throwing his hands up. ’That’s what you want, isn’t it? You can go and enjoy yourself now, don’t have to worry about me cramping your style and spoiling all your fun.’

‘You heard what Eloise was saying?’ she queried softly, making her way down the last of the steps, arms coming up as she hugged herself in the cool breeze. ‘Because I don’t--’

‘Don’t you?’ he cut her off sharply.

Out in the open like this she looked quite vulnerable, yet also quite confused at the same time.

‘No…’

‘I don’t know who you are anymore.’ Rupert couldn’t go on much longer without saying anything, so he decided it was time to let her know a few home truths. ‘Your friends, they’re not – why are you hanging around with them, honestly? You can do better, so much better. They’re judgemental and they’re bringing you down. You weren’t--’

‘They’re judgemental?’ Her sudden cry took him by surprise and he stopped talking immediately. ‘You might want to take a look in the mirror, Rupert. You’ve done nothing but judge me for the past couple of weeks. At least they take me for who I am!’

Shaking his head, he took several steps backwards, hands raking painfully through his hair. ‘But this isn’t you…’ he told her softly.

Emma looked to the ground, idly playing with the hem of her dress. ‘Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,’ she answered. ‘We were never going to be the best of friends, Rupes, we’re too different. And deep down you know that as well as I do.’

‘No I don’t… because this isn’t you. Will you listen to yourself, Em, please?’

He was fighting a losing battle, that much was obvious. Who was he kidding, this was what she’d chosen and it didn’t matter what he said, she wasn’t going to listen to him. Continuing to talk would, quite simply, be a waste of time.

‘I’ll see you on Monday… OK?’ she whispered, holding his gaze a moment longer. And then she turned on her heel, heading back into the club, the doors swinging closed behind her.

And he’d officially lost… for now at least.

be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it
you just might get it, you just might get it

.x.

Fic: RPF: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (3/10).

Sat, 25 Apr 2009 23:46:07 GMT

Title: You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up (3/10).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction, lots of angst, depressed!Emma, off the rails!Emma.
Word count: 2,246.
Summary: After a hard day filming, Rupert offers to take a battered and bruised Emma home, ending up with a little more than he bargained for when they get there. On the face of it, it all seems pretty simple, they’ve wanted each other for years, surely this is normal. But, unfortunately, he soon learns that there’s more going on than meets the eye and he's not entirely sure if he's the one Emma should be turning to.
Other Chapters: Here.

You Look Great When I’m F**ked Up
Chapter 3

Beneath the cloak of darkness, Emma’s hand slid over the wall, hunting desperately for the light switch. She didn’t exactly find it easily and when her fingertips finally came into contact, she tripped over the welcome matt and hit the floor instead of carrying out her desired task.

‘Crap,’ she muttered under her breath, scrambling back to her feet. ‘Idiot…’

By the time she succeeded and tossed her coat and bag down onto the chair beside the door, she felt completely worn out and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. But a hard weekend of partying had taken its toll, smudged eyeliner and tangled hair greeting her as she glanced in the mirror. More than anything, she needed a hot shower and a cup of tea.

She made her way upstairs slowly, shedding clothing as she went, tossing the garments aside with disregard.

Her feet hurt, her eyes were stinging, and above all else, she had a headache she couldn’t shift. Since leaving the club on Saturday night, there had been a constant buzzing in her ears. She honestly felt as though someone had set up home there with a pneumatic drill and as far as she could tell, they had no plans to move on anytime soon.

Closing her eyes once she reached the bathroom and the water began to run, Emma let go of the breath she’d been holding and leant against the shower cubicle door, waiting for it to heat up. She could have slept forever if she crawled into bed.

Two minutes later, she closed the door behind her and leant into the stream of water, letting it cascade over her, pulling her under. Her thoughts were a muddle of ‘whys’ and ‘what fors’, a spider web of contradictions. For the first time all weekend, she’d actually come to a complete stand still and this had, unfortunately, given her the time to realise the sheer intensity of what had happened.

She couldn’t get that last look Rupert had given her out of her head. Whether it was one of disappointment or sympathy or even disgust she didn’t know, but either way, his expression threatened to haunt her dreams.

Opinions aside though, they’d slept together, fact, something neither one of them could deny.

No, actually, they’d done more than just sleep together and the way he’d looked at her afterwards made her sick to the stomach. Why did she have to go and mess it all up? She said she regretted it, she told herself the same, not wanting to stand for his behaviour (hers wasn’t important). Yet, for the first time in months, she actually felt… something.

She felt alive. She felt exhilarated. She felt everything that had been missing from her life lately and Rupert was to thank for that.

It wasn’t right though, none of it was.

Sinking down onto the floor of the cubicle, Emma drew an extremely shaky breath. She could feel her cool evaporating away as the seconds went by, hands trembling as she tangled them into her saturated hair. The water continued to cascade over her, scolding droplets in their hundreds battering her skin. But she could no longer feel them. Once again, she was slipping back into the void and she had no idea how to stop it.

She dropped her head down onto folded arms, body now curled up into a ball. Tears spilled down her cheeks, one after the other and she could taste them on her lips, salty and real. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying, she just hoped that some day soon, it would stop hurting again...

~ * ~

Passing through the kitchen, Rupert reached for a piece of toast from the rack, taking a bite before murmuring, ‘Thanks!’

Charlotte shot him a look of disgust from behind her glass of orange juice. He merely grinned back.

Already this morning, he was running late. He needed to be at Leavesden in around fifteen minutes and knew for a fact, the drive always took him half an hour. He could floor it he supposed, but at the end of the day, he’d rather David yell at him than risk writing off his car by driving like a lunatic. The general consensus would be the same. So, decision made, and what did an extra five minutes matter in the grand scheme of things?

‘What time are you set to finish tonight?’

He looked up from the juice he’d managed to spill all over himself while pouring and shrugged, grabbing a cloth. ‘Eight I think,’ he answered. ‘But knowing David, it’ll probably run over until nine at least. So I’m not entirely sure.’ He took a drink and then added, ‘I’ll grab something to eat on the way home,’ because he knew that was what his mother would be so desperate to know.

Smiling, Jo shook her head, vigorously buttering a piece of bread and then reaching for the jam. ‘Text me if you change your mind and I can leave you something in the oven, your dad won’t be back until late either,’ she told him.

Regarding her with a smile a moment, Rupert leant down to give her a quick kiss. ‘See you later, mum,’ he said softly. He then turned his attention to Charlotte, giving her a squeeze and kissing her loudly on the top of her head. ‘You too, Charlie.’

Ten minutes later and well on his way to the studios; he flicked his iPod on, classic rock flooding the car and pulsing through his veins.

Just what he needed to get him there.

His tardiness this morning had been brought on by a bad nights sleep. Jo didn’t know, telling his mother would only cause unnecessary worry, so he kept quiet. In fact, he’d not slept well all weekend; since leaving Emma on Saturday morning, his head had been all over the place. Mostly he was concerned for her and what with her behaviour not exactly being something he had any experience dealing with he panicked, he ran. He wasn’t about to deny it. Now he had to face up to the consequences of course, something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

By the time he pulled into the car park, time had run away from him and he had to race over to the costume department.

Sure enough, he got a bollocking the moment he got there, and that was being polite.

As soon as the girls from costume were done stringing him up he headed on over to set. On his walk there, Rupert caught sight of both Emma and Dan stood not far from the canteen chatting. Well, Dan was talking, Emma just looked harassed, her face flushed and obviously determined to look anywhere but at him.

As he approached, he caught to tail end of what Dan was saying, his voice carrying on the light breeze.

‘…need another hour in make-up I’d say.’ A snort of laughter followed. ‘Morning, Rupe!’

Coming to a stop beside them, hands stuffed unceremoniously into his pockets, Rupert kept his gaze on Emma. He’d not seen her look that awkward for quite some time, not to mention sick. Her eyes were dull and ringed with red, her lips cracked and the tiniest bit blue.

‘Morning,’ he muttered eventually, not bothering to mask his yawn. There would be no point, they were all tired.

‘I was just saying that Emma looks like she could do with another hour in make-up,’ reinstated Dan, chortling playfully as he tugged on the hem of his jumper. ‘Not seen her looking that rough in a while.’

Apparently having had enough now, Emma corrected him, ‘I haven’t been into make-up yet… and I can hear you, you know.’

‘Yeah, mate, you should probably--’

‘And I don’t need you defending me either!’

His knight in shining amour routine was cut short by her bad mood and she was staring him down now, her jaw set at an odd angle.

Shortly afterwards she span on her heel and they were left to their thoughts, Dan’s not daring to stay in his head for more than a second longer than needed. ‘Christ, I hope she’s not like that all day. I can deal with PMT Emma, but that – that – is nothing like her,’ he said. ‘She’s vicious.’

Sighing lightly, Rupert shook his head and raked his hands through his hair. Another moment of this and he’d be close to tearing it out. ‘She probably had a bad weekend or… something.’

Dan’s eyebrows shot up. He’d said too much.

‘Oh, you know something!’ He’d started walking for the set, but Dan was hot on his heels like an insistent puppy, desperate to gossip. ‘Come on, Rupe, we’re all friends here.’

‘I don’t. I don’t know anything.’ When in doubt, lie. ‘And if I did, who says Emma would even want you knowing?’

‘We’re friends, of course she would.’

This meant she really wouldn’t, so Rupert ignored him and carried on into the building, walking through the winding corridors. From past experience, he knew not to pry when Emma wasn’t particularly chirpy and whether it was his fault or not, he knew she wouldn’t want either of them bothering her.

In fact, her bad mood went on well into the week and he became more reluctant to approach her. They needed to talk, but finding the right moment was proving difficult. If Emma noticed him come within five foot of her off set, she would immediately strike up a conversation with the person stood closest to her. On more than one occasion she’d done a sudden about turn and headed back the way she’d come, even if it was the last place she needed to be.

The effort she went to to ignore him was verging on astronomical.

Finally, around lunchtime on Thursday, Rupert found her sat alone in the canteen with nought but a bottle of water and an apple for company. He approached the table slowly, hesitantly, praying that for the first time in four days she wouldn’t bolt the second she set eyes on him.

‘Hey, mind if I sit down?’ he asked when she didn’t make an immediate dash for the door.

Her only response was a shrug, so he did just that, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table and casually reaching out for the ketchup bottle sat there. He needed to do something with his hands, even if it was something completely ridiculous. Idly beginning to pick at the label, he exhaled loudly through his nose and then murmured, ‘I’m sorry for--’

‘Don’t apologise,’ Emma cut across him. ‘I probably had it coming after the way I behaved.’

‘No… you didn’t, Em. Not in the slightest.’ He drew a breath, his teeth gazing his lower lip as he considered what to say next. ‘I know I’m not the best conversationalist in the world, but if you ever need to talk to me… I’m here, you know. Anytime, anywhere, it’s cool.’

Very briefly, her gaze settled on his face, the ghost of a smile playing about her features. ‘Cool, huh?’ she repeated.

Rupert nodded and returned the smile, supplying a casual, ‘Yeah…’

‘OK, cool.’

She laughed and he soon joined in, his anxieties ebbing away as they fell into something that felt oh so natural. He’d missed this. Simply enjoying her company, it didn’t happen anymore. There were too many other people getting in the way all of the time. The other night hadn’t really been normal for them, Emma was too vulnerable for it to constitute as reality.

‘Can we not talk about…? Well, you know,’ she said then, pretty much reading his mind as he set the ketchup down again. ‘I just – I want to get back to normal again and that was--’

‘Weird?’ he questioned uneasily.

As her gaze settled on his face, Emma lifted her shoulders in a shrug, obviously having trouble expressing what she wanted to say. ‘Not weird,’ she argued weakly. ‘Bad timing, me being stupid and selfish maybe… I don’t know, I shouldn’t have dragged you into that.’

If there was one thing Rupert couldn’t stand, it was listening to Emma put herself down. Whatever was going on in her life right now, she didn’t need to degrade herself with unfeeling and unkind words. At the end of the day she was only human – like they all were – and she could make mistakes, too.

‘You didn’t,’ he protested, inching his hand forwards in what he hoped was a kind gesture, but she backed off pretty quickly. His hid his disappointment quickly. ‘You didn’t drag me into anything.’

‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about this?’ She laughed, although it was forced and lacked feeling. Her voice was void of emotion now.

‘Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you started it,’ he argued.

A moment later he got up from his seat, figuring there wasn’t much else he could say to help the situation. They’d only end up in an argument and that wouldn’t do anyone any good in the long run. He had offered his support and for now, that was all he could do.

Rupert sighed very lightly, looking down at her. ‘I’ll see you on set then…’ he offered politely.

Her response ended up just as polite, eyes settling on his face for the briefest of glances as she said, ‘Yeah, I’ll see you.’

.x.

Fic: RPF: Say Goodbye (25/25).

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 21:24:10 GMT

Title: Say Goodbye (25/25).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma with slight Dan/Bonnie.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction.
Word count: 2,145.
Summary: For some, coming to the end means having to say goodbye. For others, the end is only just the beginning.
Previous Chapters: Here.

Say Goodbye
Chapter 25 – A Fresh Start
Date: Wednesday 23rd August 2011
Location: Notting Hill, London, England

‘I don’t want to move, it’s too much effort…’

Ten minutes ago there had been a bang downstairs in the hall, indicating that someone had pushed something through the letter box. So far, neither Rupert nor Emma had moved a muscle and still lay entwined in the bedcovers, staring up at the ceiling. She was curled up against him, barely a hairs width between them, head resting quite comfortably on his chest.

‘Probably not important.’

‘But what if it is?’

Rolling onto his side a second later and propping himself up on an elbow, Rupert frowned down at her. ‘Are you honestly going to make me go all the way down there for a takeaway menu?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow playfully. ‘Because, Em, you know that’s what it’ll be.’

‘It might not be,’ she said with a grin.

‘Wanna bet?’

Well, two could play this game.

Emma laughed and reached out, shoving at his shoulder gently. He barely moved an inch, but played it up anyway, shuffling away from her and muttering, ‘You’re mean.’

‘What? Oh, shut up!’

When she made a move to thump his arm, he did move, hopping out of bed and pulling on an old Ramones t-shirt. He cast her a sidelong glance, running a hand through his hair as he attempted to hold back a cheeky grin. Of course he failed miserably and several seconds later found a pillow being hurled in his direction.

‘Go!’ she cried.

And this time he actually did.

Tramping down the staircase and into the hallway, Rupert stifled a light yawn with the back of his hand and made a grab for the envelope that had been stuffed through the door. Flipping it over, he came face-to-face with some very familiar hand writing, so turned straight on his heel and headed back upstairs.

When he reached the bedroom once again, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and handed it over to Emma. ‘Want to do the honours?’ he asked softly, leaning back on his hand.

She smiled, shuffling closer to him, the duvet still pulled up to her chin, and then laid her head on his shoulder as she tore open the envelope.

Watching her in quiet contemplation, he idly ran his fingers through her hair, twisting the locks around and around. Three in the afternoon and they were still in bed. Disgusting really, but he didn’t care and he doubted Emma did either. Since moving in, they’d gotten into the habit of doing just that when they had nothing else to do. Today was one of those days and he wanted nothing more than to stay put.

‘Wedding invitation,’ she said eventually, waving the piece of gold embossed card in front of his nose. ‘’You are cordially invited to the wedding of Daniel Jacob Radcliffe and Bonnie Kathleen Wright on 25th November 2011,’’ she read aloud. ‘25th November, blimey! It’s official now then.’

‘I think it was official before,’ commented Rupert.

‘You know what I mean.’ Emma shook her head, holding the invite out at arms length, eyes wide. ‘This is big, it’s massive. Our friends are getting married!’

He stared at her, completely unperturbed and then said, ‘Still don’t get it, sorry Em.’

‘Useless,’ she muttered, eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. A second later, she moved away from him and slipped from between the sheets, reaching for the heavens and stretching out. He watched her, mesmerised, eyes trained on her slim figure and then, without warning, he reached out and let his arms encircle her waist, pulling her back down. ‘Rupes!’ she shrieked.

She fell, breathless from laughter and he leant over her, pinning her to the bed. ‘Don’t get up, we really don’t need to,’ he said, trying his best to sway her. ‘I can grab a couple of DVDs and some microwave popcorn and--‘

Her insistent lips cut him off and soon Emma wasn’t the only breathless one. ‘Nice try,’ she mumbled in-between kisses. ‘But it’s your birthday tomorrow and I have a million and one things to do.’

‘There’s no need to celebrate me getting old… really,’ argued Rupert persistently.

For well over a week now, she’d had her heart set on inviting Dan and Bonnie for dinner and a few drinks. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t allowed a say in it, even though it was his birthday they were celebrating. He’d tried everything to talk her out of it, even gone so far as to offer his body to her. But apparently that never worked unless she was in the mood (which she wasn’t when busy organising).

‘Twenty-three is not old.’ Looking up from wriggling her way into a pair of denim shorts, she chuckled lightly. ‘You’re overreacting, you know.’

‘Says the twenty-one-year-old,’ he mumbled, finally relenting and joining her in starting the day (six hours late). He picked up a pair of jeans and shot her a suitably dirty look, his smile playful.

Unfortunately, Emma caught him out and slapped his arm for his efforts. ‘Grow up,’ she teased. ‘Oh, no… wait, you’re already old.’

The smirk on her face was a picture, as was the way she reacted when she realised he was seconds away from pouncing on her. He started, eyes alight, and she screamed, running for the bedroom door as fast as her legs would carry her. Pausing (although only momentarily) when she got there, she slung the t-shirt she still had in her hands in his direction and then disappeared out of sight.

Rupert presumed this was some kind of defence mechanism.

Either way, it didn’t work.

Bounding after her, he finally collared her in the living room. A tiring game of cat and mouse followed, the pair circling the couch time and time again, shouts and laughter echoing about the room. Emma beamed from ear to ear; her cheeks flushed pink thanks to their exertions and hair an array of tangled curls.

She was actually completely wonderful and most importantly, she was his.

Eventually, after circling the couch over a dozen times, Rupert gave up and leapt for it instead. Planting his feet firmly on the arm, he reached out, grabbing her by the belt and tugging her down onto the mound of cushions with him. He didn’t get away with it though, she wriggled and giggled and flailed her arms about rather insistently. But he wouldn’t be letting her go, no way, no how.

When they both ultimately gave up five minutes later, he gently let her go and propped himself up on his elbows. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips, and then in turn pulled on a button down shirt, some sandals and headed for the door.

‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ she said, fishing around the cluttered table by the door for her keys. ‘Just need to fetch a certain person’s birthday cake, that’s all.’ She grinned, blew him a kiss and then disappeared down the staircase, her laughter ringing in his ears.

While she was gone, he took the opportunity to spend an hour or so flicking through several scripts he’d been sent. Nothing particularly appealed just lately, so perhaps it was time for a bit of a break. If Emma wasn’t too busy running back and forth between fashion shows, maybe they could go somewhere together. He’d never visited New Zealand and he’d always fancied that. He would most definitely have to ask her opinion. After all, she’d said it herself many a time; they were making things official now.

Rupert made sure to shower and get dressed before she returned, padding around barefoot in the bedroom as he tossed shirts this way and that. Settling on a blue one with a logo he didn’t recognise on the front, he sat back down, tugging it over his head. It was then he noticed the wedding invite lying forgotten on the floor. He reached out for it, turning it over in his hands a moment, mouth curling up into a smile.

Emma was right of course, it was a big deal to each and every one of them.

The sound of keys in the door knocked him from his thoughts and setting the invite aside; he got to his feet and headed into the main room. He found Emma in the kitchen unloading several shopping bags and swigging from a bottle of Evian.

She smiled when he appeared and bumped her hip into his, murmuring, ‘Give me a hand, you.’

Obliging, he picked up one of the bags, unloading the bottles of champagne it encased and couldn’t help but grin. ‘Isn’t this going a little overboard?’ he questioned. ‘Champagne and all?’

Her response was indignant and accompanied by a shrug. ‘We have a lot to celebrate, do we not?’

Point made, she returned to her task, finally tossing the empty bags into the recycling and hopping up onto the counter. ‘Do you love me?’ she queried when he wandered over to join her. ‘I mean, really, really love me?’

He frowned, arms encircling her waist and hands slipping comfortably into the pockets of her shorts. ‘Stupid question, Em,’ he answered on a breath, pushing her closer. Already he could feel his body reacting to the close proximity of hers, the warmth of her skin was like fire. ‘I love you, you know that,’ he concluded.

Emma shifted, pressing her hips into his as inquisitive fingers raked through flame red locks. ‘Just checking…’ She beamed. ‘We can go back to bed now if you want.’

‘Oh no, there’s no way,’ he was quick to protest. ‘Not after you went to so much trouble to get up and out of there.’

It was unusual for her to make an offer like that, but he wasn’t having any of it. He was up now, so he was staying up. She’d turned him down enough today and he wouldn’t relent. No one was going back in that bedroom.

For a second she appeared confused and she perked an inquisitive eyebrow. Shortly after that, her hormones took control and she tugged on his shirt, her hands sliding confidently across his chest. ‘Fine then, we don’t have to go back to bed,’ she announced. ‘We can stay right here.’

Rupert laughed, stepping back to escape her clutches, although Emma was too quick for him and grasped hold of his belt with a firm grip. ‘Em,’ he murmured, ‘I thought you had a million and one things to do…’

‘They can wait a little longer,’ she said easily, eyes fixed on his.

Returning her intense stare, he soon gave in and not five seconds later, cleared the counter with one quick swipe of his arm, pushing her back onto it.

To be completely honest, it hadn’t been like this in a while, not since Aimée and losing the baby. At some point, the passion they’d had, it had been extinguished and it had been as easy as blowing out a birthday candle. He needed this – they needed this.

‘I think I have carpet burn…’ Rupert idly lifted his arm and attempted to crane his neck around to get a look at his elbow.

At some point, they’d made it to the floor and, as Rupert was learning, it wasn’t the most comfortable of places to get up close and personal.

Emma, however, seemed unperturbed and smiled down at him. ‘Drama queen,’ she chided playfully, biting on her lip. In this light she looked the epitome of innocence, yet if what they had just done was anything to go by, he knew different. ‘Want me to kiss it better?’

He laughed a loud and ridiculous laugh that startled even him, and then shook his head. ‘No, I really don’t!’

‘OK.’ A moment later, her head came to rest on his chest, her hair very gently tickling his skin. ‘Happy birthday, Rupes,’ she whispered.

Glancing down at her from between his lashes, he let a soft smile grace his features, hands idly rubbing her back as he said, ‘Thanks.’ There really wasn’t much else to say in response. For the first time in a while, words escaped him. She made him happy, he was pretty sure that he made her happy too, and that was pretty much that.

Although, there was that one thing…

‘When are we getting married then?’

Her head snapped back up so quickly that Rupert actually jumped and the smile he’d had on his face moments before disappeared rather abruptly. He composed himself again, took in the surprise in her eyes, and then lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, letting the words wash over her.

The smile Emma graced him with could quite easily have broken a thousand hearts (bright, glittering and rapturous), but he knew from the way she kissed him afterwards that she’d been saving that one especially for him.

Fin.

.x.

Fic: RPF: Say Goodbye (24/25).

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:42:54 GMT

Title: Say Goodbye (24/25).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairing: Rupert/Emma with slight Dan/Bonnie.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Real person fiction.
Word count: 1,800.
Summary: For some, coming to the end means having to say goodbye. For others, the end is only just the beginning.
Previous Chapters: Here.
A/N: After a short inward debate with myself, this fic will be 25 chapters now, instead of 26. I was spreading myself too thinly.

Say Goodbye
Chapter 24 – Moving On Is Hard to Do
Date: Thursday 3rd August 2011
Location: Notting Hill, London, England

The pictures were what hurt the most. Aimée’s bloodshot eyes and the way she had her hands up, attempting but failing to hide her face from the paparazzi’s prying lenses, her body language so guarded, desperate for them to leave her in peace. Break-up aside, he couldn’t deal with seeing her that way and as soon as Emma left the flat the following morning, Rupert had been straight on the phone to see if everything was OK.

An hour later, after hanging up again, he’d crawled back into bed, feeling almost as bad as he had the moment he found out. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him had died along with his baby.

It took another six hours before he built the strength to move from the comfortable confinements of his bed and even then he merely sat on the couch, sipping from a mug he’d managed to salvage from the wreckage and stared into space. He had no idea how long it would take him to get over this.

For two days, the TV, couch and more coffee than he could sensibly comprehend were Rupert’s salvation. He didn’t have the energy to move any further than the bathroom.

A visit from James broke the vicious cycle and he was faced with the prospect of stepping back out into the big bad world. He was ushered into the bathroom, forced to shower and shave, and then had a pile of clothes thrown at him, with one simple instruction, ‘Sort yourself out!’

Upon switching his mobile phone on an hour later, he found ten unanswered text messages from Emma as well as several voicemails.

Is everything ok? Call me. Em xxx

I’m worried. Don’t make me come round. Em xxx

Pls reply, Rupes. Ilu. Em xxx

Rupert frowned, deleting each message in turn, his heart heavy. He couldn’t go on ignoring Emma much longer. She cared about him, she loved him and she wanted to help. It was time to accept and move on. He didn’t care how hard that would be.

Although, in fact, getting back to normal took longer than he thought it would. Drinks with James were just the beginning. It took time for him to find his feet again. He felt as though he was starting anew with certain things, Emma especially.

But that was then and this was now and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it. What was in the past would stay in the past, now and forever more. Rupert looked forward to the future, to moving on with Emma by his side, holding his hand. So what if it took a little longer than anticipated.

‘Dinner tonight? I’ll do my best to cook… something.’

He finally plucked up the courage to call her two days later even though he was feeling less than enthusiastic about having to entertain.

‘Something? That sounds ominous,’ Emma laughed, a soft, melodic tinkle in his ear.

Rupert chuckled, relaxing into his seat as the conversation continued and mellowed. He needed the reassurance from Emma, that things were going to be OK, that they could carry on and simply be them. Already he was beginning to feel better.

‘Thanks,’ he murmured finally. ‘You know my cooking isn’t that bad. I’m out of ideas, that’s all.’ He shrugged, an action seen by him alone. ‘So you’ll come?’

When she spoke again, he could tell she was smiling into the receiver. ‘And miss out on you cooking me something? How on earth could I say no, Rupes?’ she said good-humouredly. ‘Seven then? Want me to bring a bottle of wine or, I don’t know, some ice-cream maybe?’

‘Ice-cream sounds good,’ said Rupert curtly. ‘I’ll buy some sprinkles.’

‘Yeah? You better. And strawberry sauce, too. Heaven.’

Biting on his lip, he curbed laughter. ‘Consider it done,’ he responded.

By the time they ended the call, he was feeling closer to normal than he had done in weeks. It was a strange thing to come to terms with. For days he’d felt nothing more than the empty chasm in his chest, the gaping hole left by the child he never got to meet. He probably never would get over it, but it was good to know there were things in the world that could make him feel that little bit better.

Emma Watson, the perfect medicine.

Heading into the kitchen, Rupert tackled the mountain of washing up first and the over-crowded work surfaces. He hadn’t realised quite how much of a mess the apartment had become, somehow he’d let it fall into disrepair. Before he even thought about food, he needed to tidy up from top to bottom and perhaps do something about that strange smell coming from the cupboard in the corner. Emma definitely wouldn’t want to come face-to-face with whatever that was.

He threw the balcony doors open, tiny particles of dust swimming in and out of his line of sight as he adjusted to the bright summer sun. Taking a deep breath, he smiled as he took in the city spread out before him. Great glass buildings towering almost as high as the eye could see, the street below swarming with dozens of shoppers keen to snap up a bargain, pastel painted terraced houses that looked more like dolls houses than the homes of young city socialites.

All things considered, he had a pretty fantastic view from up here and he needed to take advantage of that.

Taking a deep breath, Rupert retreated back to the kitchen to see if he could throw anything together from what food he had left. If not, a trip to the supermarket would be on the cards. It wasn’t ideal, but if needs must.

At six, dinner on the go, he grabbed hold of the table and began dragging it towards the balcony doors. The legs scraped and scratched against the wooden floor, making so much noise the people in the apartment below would probably be up in a minute, but he didn’t really care. He wanted tonight to be perfect now.

Two minutes past seven and Rupert was, embarrassingly, pacing his hallway.

The doorbell rang at four minutes past and when he pulled the door open, finding Emma on the other side of it, his heart unceremoniously skipped a beat.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, pulling the door open a little wider and letting her inside.

Emma, dressed in a pale blue summer dress, shrugged off her cardigan and smiled, almost impishly. ‘I have the ice-cream, never fear,’ she supplied eventually, holding up an M&S bag as she headed for the kitchen, her smile splitting into a grin. ‘Raspberry ripple,’ she added, leaning back against the fridge once she’d put it away.

Then, a laugh and she whispered, ‘What?’

He hadn’t realised he’d been staring at her.

Snapping himself out of it, he laughed (rather awkwardly) and followed her over. ‘Nothing, I – sorry,’ he murmured, leaning against the breakfast bar. ‘Thanks.’

She moved to lean against the opposite side and when her hand slid over his, he glanced up into her eyes and felt his resolve melt away. God, he really did love her, so, so much. He had done for a long time. Long before he met Aimée, long before he met Lara, long before he met… well, any of his girlfriends actually. The love of his life, that’s what Emma was, she always had been.

‘What did you attempt to cook then?’ Her eyes sparkled as she gazed over at him. ‘And are you sure it’s safe for human consumption?’

‘Pasta and I think so.’ Rupert laughed, glancing down at their hands a moment. ‘Did you want a drink?’

She nodded and he forced himself to get on with things, retrieving a bottle of wine from the fridge and leading her over to the table. Since his furniture rearranging earlier, he’d spruced things up a bit, strategically placed candles about the place and generally tried to make it look a little more girl friendly. From what he could see, it had paid off; her face was a picture as she sank into her seat.

Perfection had definitely been reached.

It took him several moments to realise that Emma was staring at him now and as he placed the wine bottle down, she murmured, ‘Are you OK, Rupes?’

Sighing very softly, he nodded, settling back into his seat as they started on dinner. ‘I’m getting there,’ he admitted truthfully – there would be no point in lying about it. ‘I should have called you before but things… well, I spoke to Aimée again and I kind of freaked out about everything I guess. It made everything so real, so raw, and I...’ His voice cracked and fell away, words gone forever.

Immediately Emma was out of her seat and kneeling in front of him, her hands against his face. ‘I love you, talk to me,’ she whispered and leant in, hesitantly kissing his tears away.

Rupert lost himself quickly, fingers curling into her hair as he sank down onto the floor with her, pressing himself closer. He couldn’t get enough, not right now, and she gave as good as she got, her arms snaking around his neck and pulling his head down. He could have kissed her forever, but she soon pulled away again.

‘Rupes…’ she murmured, turning her head into the crook of his neck, ‘there was something I wanted to ask you.’

Breaking away from her, he let his eyes search hers and a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. He swallowed down and asked apprehensively, ‘Yeah?’

She nodded, sitting back on her feet and nibbling anxiously on her lip. ‘It’s kind of a big thing, so if I make a mess of this, I apologise…’ she said timidly. ‘I just wanted to – I don’t know, make things more official between us, so I thought that maybe – only if you wanted – you could move in with me. The flat’s empty when you’re not there and I thought, seeing as it’s only been a few weeks, I could ask them to put your name on the lease, too. Then it could be--’

‘Ours…?’

‘Yeah.’ Her smile literally lit up the room. ‘What do you think? Bad idea, or…?’

Rupert held her gaze, the pad of his thumb lightly rubbing over her cheek bone. ‘Yeah, I mean… I think it’s a brilliant idea, Em,’ he responded. ‘So yeah… yes, I’d love it!’

Eyes twinkling in the candle light, she took a breath, her fingers curling into his hair. ‘Really? You mean it?’

With a laugh, he pressed a kiss to her head and said, ‘Yes, I really mean it.’

The tenants downstairs undoubtedly heard her shriek of joy, although he still wasn’t so sure about the table.

.x.

Fic: RPF: My Bloody Valentine (8/16).

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 00:31:41 GMT

"What the hell is this?" I hear you cry! Good question, I've not seen it in a while either, but whatever lol.

Title: My Bloody Valentine (8/16).
Author: x_moonshine_x
Pairings/characters: Ben Barnes/William Moseley, Ben Barnes/Kate Magowan, Colin Firth, Rachel Hurd-Wood and various other Dorian Gray and Narnia people.
Rating: PG this part (NC-17 overall).
Warnings: Real person slash, het, so many celeb cameos it should be illegal, Mr. Darcy’s stalker and gun toting maniacs.
Word count: 1,829.
Summary: Ben has done absolutely everything to keep his relationship with Will sacred and unmarred by the paparazzi, but during the promotion run for Dorian Gray he discovers that some things are more important than hiding away.
Other chapters: Here.
A/N: Umm, sorry...?

My Bloody Valentine
Chapter 8 – Murder In Mind

‘You think I’m a right blonde, don’t you?’

Ben glares at his companion, be it playfully, and then mutters under his breath, ‘Shut up…’

‘Stop lying to me,’ she whines into his ear, yet flashes another smile in the direction of the paparazzi and tosses her hair while doing so. They’re completely oblivious to her complaining and Ben really does wish he could be so, too.

‘Seriously, Rach, shut up now.’

‘Oh come on, Barnesy!’

He’s almost sure Rachel stamped her foot then and raises an eyebrow over in her direction, the beginnings of a smile teetering on his lips. She has already promised him once this evening that she won’t get ridiculously drunk again tonight, but that hasn’t stopped her from being a nosy little madam.

‘Gods sake, Ben! It’s only me!’

Rachel’s final mutter officially sets him off and he begins to laugh, turning his face away from the cameras and attempting to hide behind the teen’s mass of hair. He knows she’s not stupid, but at the same time, telling her that she’s right is going to send him down the exact same path he’s been so terrified of taking all this time.

His original reason for protecting his relationship with Will seems so distant now and he has no idea when it turned to a fear of his ruining his reputation, because that’s what it is now and they both know it.

He hates himself for it. How could he not?

On the other side of the red carpet, Will is busy signing autographs and happily taking pictures for the fans, his pale eyes shining beneath the glare of the paparazzi’s camera flashes. He turns his head and their eyes meet for a brief moment. In that instant the world stops and realisation dawns.

Ben’s pushing Will further and further away with each passing day. Trying to shield their relationship from prying eyes is only succeeding in marring it and destroying any chance they have of making it last. Maybe it really is time to stop pretending now and step out into the light.

‘Secret’s safe with me,’ whispers Rachel, her words resounding in his head as she leans closer. ‘Promise I won’t tell him.’

Ben does a double take, his gaze coming back to rest on her face as confusion floods his features. ‘What?’ he mutters, his voice barely heard above the shouts coming from the press pen. ‘What are you talking about?’

She laughs, her eyes twinkling as she brushes a curl of hair from her eyes. ‘You fancy him,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘Any fool could see that. You’re really obvious, staring at him all the time. I’ve got to say, it is kind of poetic though, the Prince falling in love with the King and all.’

Even though she’s got the situation completely wrong, she’s right about one thing; their relationship is slowly turning into one of ridiculously epic proportions, intended or not.

‘Rach, that’s not--’

Rachel shrugs him off with a simple shake of her head and pushes him away from her; smile so bright it almost splits her face in two. ‘No time like the present,’ she says enthusiastically. ‘It’s not like Kate’s around to get in the way tonight, is it? Go and seize the day, Ben, make it a night to remember for once. I dare you.’

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she turns away from him, so quickly makes a beeline for the small group of girls who have been screaming his name since he first set foot on the red carpet. It’s an excuse to switch off for five minutes as he mindlessly signs autographs and answers their questions, smiling politely and laughing along with them.

What he really wants is an hour to himself to think things over properly, but he knows it’s not going to happen tonight and gets on with it.

By the time the press are done hounding them and taking several dozen more photos than necessary, they’re running half an hour behind and pictures inside the theatre are cut short. Everyone’s fidgety and aggravated and Colin is seconds away from telling them all to sod off, much to the staff’s dismay.

When they’re finally on their way into the screening, Ben hears a shout from over by the door and whips his head around just in time to catch the tail end of what’s being said, forgetting for a moment where he’s supposed to be going.

‘Bloody hell, Colin, she must really love you!’

Laughter is imminent, the volume of chatter increasing immediately.

Ben’s straining to see over the top of the crowd, clinging onto Will’s arm as he attempts to keep his balance, eyes darting back and forth as he searches for that familiar face. Sure enough, five seconds later, he spots it. Colin’s number one fan – although he’s tempted to say stalker – is chatting to another two girls on the other side of the foyer. She looks the same as always; done up to the nines, makeup trowelled on and polished like the best cutlery. He doesn’t know how he could have missed her before.

There’s no time to contemplate the hows and whys though, because they’re moved on and shortly after that Ben’s sinking down into his seat preparing to watch his latest creation for the fifth time.

Honestly, he can think of better things to do.

At the after party, the conversation is flowing, the same with the champagne. He strikes up brief a tête-à-tête with Colin, leaving Will to chat to Rachel beside the bar. They’ve known each other longer than he’s known her after all and it shows as they laugh long into the night.

Rachel manages to keep her promise and doesn’t start stumbling around until gone eleven thirty and even then, it’s someone else’s fault (or so she says), as she collides with a group of young men in the middle of the dance floor and starts giggling mercilessly.

‘Do you want to head back to the hotel soon?’ He catches Will on the way to the bathroom, one too many shots of vodka slurring his words and making him sound like the drunk one for once. ‘Don’t think we’re going to miss much around here…’

Will hesitates and shakes his head. ‘Can we stay?’ he asks hopefully. ‘I haven’t had the chance to do this in a while.’

Shrugging, Ben knows he can’t say no, so continues on his quest to the bathroom, passing Colin’s stalker friend on his way. She’s tucked away in a corner, eyes trained upon the object of her affections, quiet in contemplation as she sips on a champagne cocktail.

‘Hello.’ He’s said it before he can stop himself and she looks up in shock, her dark eyes wide as saucers. He presumes she’s not used to being spoken to at these things, so continues with the niceties, yammering away happily (although it’s probably just the alcohol talking). ‘I’m shocked to see you here of all places, seems a bit far for you to come. Aren’t you a Yorkshire girl? What’s your name by the way?’

Yes, he’s officially waffling.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, he smiles kindly as he awaits a response, yet only receives silence from her. He takes a breath, wondering whether to say anything more, and it’s then she begins to fidget, her eyes darting around wildly.

‘OK then, nice chatting with you…’

So he doesn’t.

Her behaviour isn’t exactly normal though, not for her. And this is something Ben finds himself having trouble overlooking as he makes his way back over to Will several minutes later. She’s caught his attention now and he finds himself glancing over at her more often than not. She may only be a fan, but he’s seen her around enough to know that something isn’t right.

‘I think we should go you know.’ He places a hand lightly to Will’s arm, leaning in close enough for him to hear his voice over the throb of the music. ‘It’s getting late now and--’

‘I thought I was the boring one in this relationship,’ Will cuts him off with a playful jibe, leaning in to meet him and letting his lips brush across Ben’s cheek very lightly.

There’s a pause, a moment of hesitance and Ben smiles at the touch, the grip he has on his boyfriend’s arm tightening as he glances over at him. ‘Not all the time,’ he whispers. ‘I like a night in in front of the TV as much as the next person. Whether you choose to believe that or not, is up to you.’

And that’s as long as it takes. When he glances back to the room again, his Yorkshire girl has vanished into thin air, abandoning a full glass of champagne on the table beside where she’d been stood only moments before.

Again, he doesn’t know her well, but to him that seems like unusual conduct for anyone.

‘Where did she go?’

Will frowns and perks an eyebrow in confusion. ‘Rachel?’ he asks, pointing across the dance floor. ‘She’s right there. Although, from the way that guy’s looking at her, I don’t think she’ll be here much longer.’

Sure enough, Miss Hurd-Wood is twirling around in the middle of the room, the perfect vision of loveliness. He watches her for a minute, transfixed, but that isn’t who he means. She stops dancing when she realises all eyes are on her and raises a hand in greeting, wiggling her fingers playfully and continuing to laugh.

Ben can’t help but smile as he turns away from her, his eyes settling briefly on Will before searching out his target again.

What happens next almost plays out in slow motion. He feels Will place a hand to his back, and then someone screams. The shout that follows he wishes he could have misheard, but sure enough when a sudden surge of security guards race past, all is confirmed. Whoever called out, ‘She’s got a gun!’ hadn’t been messing around.

He blinks and a moment later panic sets in. People get that frenzied look in their eyes as they plan out a route of escape without actually moving an inch. Several seconds after that and Will’s pulling him toward the exit, Rachel’s not far behind, tripping over her heels and reaching out for his hand. By the time they reach the door people are pushing and shoving, getting crushed in the throws of panic.

And then from somewhere behind him, gunfire is heard. One single shot that pierces the air, tearing through the fear and rooting everyone to the spot.

In the moments that follow, you could have heard a pin drop. But then, in the same amount of time it took for silence to fall, chaos breaks out once again, Rachel kicks some random guy in the shin and pulls on his hand.

‘Move!’

Ben isn’t exactly going to argue.

.x.