#I saw someone do that and went MAN innovation
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Well since there's interest in nsfw comms, I'll go about making a rules list for it which will probably just be screenshots of the Notes or Pages app because that's easier to do, easy to read, and I can go back and edit it in the future when I gotta
#vena vents#not art#People make fun of notes app screenshots for obviously tasteless uses like apologies but using it as a quick and easy image listing comm#rules is smart#I saw someone do that and went MAN innovation#Also mind you I GOTTA RECOGNIZE YOU IN ORDER FOR YOU TO GET ONE OF THESE#no randos who just got here
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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 10
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
This part was fun to write! Thank you to everyone for your suggestions, hopefully this meets your expectations. I look forward to seeing what you guys think! As always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know and I give you a tag!
~*~*~*~
Max called a Code Red the second she got back inside her own trailer after trying to catch up to the Beemer. “Mayday! I repeat; Mayday! I just saw Steve and Eddie drive away together. I think Eddie just left too!”
A cacophony of voices exploded over the radio.
“What? Steve is back in town?” Lucas confusedly asked.
“Steve kidnapped our Dungeon Master?!” Mike’s voice shrieked in appalled horror. “That’s a felony, we have to call the police!”
“How do you know if it was Steve?” Dustin stammered in confused defense of Steve.
Above all of the other voices, Max started talking again. “I saw the Beemer outside of Eddie’s trailer when I woke up and when I went to investigate, they drove away! It was his car, dipshit. Who else could it be? And we are not calling the police on Steve! Eddie got into the car willingly.”
That fact didn’t seem to deter Mike, “So he was coerced? That’s just as bad! We have to call someone!”
“Alright, everyone this is a Code Red! Meet in Mike’s basement in T-minus 15 minutes. Let’s move people!” Dustin ordered. While normally they would argue with him taking charge, these were not normal circumstances. Everyone was on edge and they hastened to follow his instructions.
This was shaping up to be one of the worst days of their lives.
~*~*~*~
Eddie was having the best day of his life.
He and Steve were almost to Chicago having just stopped at a gas station on the Indiana-Illinois border. For the past three and a half hours or so, they had been singing (i.e. screaming) along to Eddie’s favorite bands. And Eddie will swear it to anyone that asks, Holy Diver sounds even better when Steve is singing it with a beaming smile on his face further illuminated by the beams of sunlight. Eddie already knew he was an angel but the halo surrounding him cemented the fact in his mind.
Steve was thrilled as well. He knew some of Eddie’s music from the cassettes he bought to remind him of the man when he first left. As such, he was familiar with some of the songs and was having a grand time singing along. And he got to share something with Eddie, they were able to share an interest in Dio songs. Whenever he glanced at Eddie in his passenger seat, he was greeted with a look of pure happiness and awe. He decided right then that would do anything to keep Eddie smiling like that.
When they crossed the city limits of Chicago, Eddie’s eyes widened in amazement. It was so different from Hawkins! The buildings stood tall and prominent against the horizon. The old stone buildings mingled with the new glass and steel to create a picturesque scene of architectural innovation. As the car crawled through the crowded streets, Steve turned the volume down and focused on not hitting any pedestrians as they walked across the street without looking both ways. Eddie just stared at all of the passing buildings, the hordes of people walking down the street, the record store with a poster of Metallica in its window. A Metallica poster?!
“Steve! Pull over, stop the car.”
Steve braked harshly before pulling into a parallel parking spot available few stores down. He turned confusedly to Eddie who was already unbuckling his seatbelt. “What the hell, Eddie? What if we had been rear-ended? We could’ve died.”
Eddie flapped his hand around and pointed at the record store, “but look, Steve! They have a poster for Metallica! Do you even understand how metal that is? The store in Hawkins doesn’t even have the new album, I had to drive to Indy to get it. Please, can we go?”
How could Steve say no to his pleading eyes and ridiculous pout? “Fine, but we can only stay in this spot for thirty minutes!”
His words fell on deaf ears as Eddie opened the passenger side door and darted into the record store. Steve locked the car and followed at a more sedate pace. When he walked in, he saw Eddie perusing the cassette tapes in a large bin. They had a large selection of nearly every genre from radio pop to hard rock and metal. Once he was noticed, Eddie quickly piled his arms high with metal cassettes as well as a few rock. Steve raised an eyebrow at the Bowie and Queen tapes amidst the metal bands. Eddie must have noticed his judginess as he said defensively, “It’s for Robin. These tapes are new!”
Steve just shrugged his shoulders and smirked at Eddie as he blushed anew. In the end, Steve bought him three cassettes of albums that had just come out, two for Robin, and a Simon and Garfunkel cassette for himself. That may have been a mistake however because Eddie started ripping on him as soon as he placed the tape on the check-out counter. “What the hell is that, Steve? I just introduced you to Dio and Iron Maiden and you’re still listening to fucking Simon and Garfunkel? Man, this might be where I have to draw the line. I mean, everyone has their faults or whatever but listening to them when you have Black Sabbath? That’s blasphemy, dude.”
The cashier was smirking at them while Eddie continued ranting in his ear about the virtues of metal music while Steve tried to pay for his purchase in peace. When Eddie mentioned how Steve should have a newfound appreciation for metal after hearing Eddie himself play Master of Puppets by Metallica in March, the cashier straightened. “Holy shit, you played Master of Puppets a month after it came out? Dude, that’s one of the hardest riffs to play. You have a perfect ear or something?”
Eddie pulled a chunk of his hair in front of his mouth to hide the twist of a shy smile and shook his head, “nah, I just had a lot of time to practice.”
“Sounds like. You play guitar then?”
Eddie nodded at him as Steve watched the interaction in mild neutrality. “Yeah, guitar and a little bit of vocals.”
The cashier shook his head. “Well man, sounds like you know a lot about music. We’re hiring right now if you’re interested in working here. And some guys and I get together to play sometimes. We’d love to have another guitar guy in the band, our last one just moved out of state for college.”
Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. Now it made sense how the charming bastard had gotten a job so quickly. Everyone was hiring in the city! And a band too?! He loved Chicago. In fact, he might never return to Hawkins!
He told the guy that he would get back to him on the offer and both boys left the shop with their music selections. They were each eager for the best day ever to continue! Next, Steve took him to a little Italian eatery for dinner that had ‘the best pizza I’ve ever had, Eddie. I’m not even kidding’, according to Steve. And Jesus H. Christ was he right. The deep-dish pizza was more of a pie filled with heavenly cheese and topped with a rich and savory marinara sauce. Holy shit, he might never be able to eat regular take-out pizza ever again. Not after consuming his delicacy.
After their glorious cheese-filled dinner, Steve drove down North Clark Street. He had this right hand resting on Eddie’s left knee that was bouncing with pent up excitement. “What’s next, Stevie?”
“I figured we could check out Metro. It’s a concert venue and some guys at the bar last week were talking about seeing a rock band there. It’s worth a look, right?” Steve said, turning to look at Eddie in askance.
Eddie just gave him a look of adoration in response and squeezed the hand on his knee. “Definitely Stevie, definitely.”
They were in luck tonight. A smaller metal band, of which Steve could not remember the name, was playing and they were able to get tickets on-site before heading into the venue. Eddie was jumping around, bopping his head to the music, and positively beaming at Steve whenever he glanced in his direction. For two hours, they stood there, listening to the band play metal covers and original songs. Steve didn’t necessarily enjoy the music but being able to see Eddie happy was more than enough in exchange for a blooming headache and ringing ears. And the bruising kiss Eddie gave him in the darkness of the empty parking lot at the end of the night helped too.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue
Taglist:@nickavalens@conversesweetheart@themostunoriginalpersonever@swimmingbirdrunningrock@eddiethegreatteddybear @call-me-big-eyes @cornwallisandkerley @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove@thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt@luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era@newtstabber@bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd@ohlook-afrog@00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly@freddykicksasses@krimsonsimp@delta-piscium@anaibis@tinynebula @darkwitchoferie
#yeah I hit max hard in the last part#no I don't regret it#I love Chicago and I think the boys would too#Simon and Garfunkel have a couple good songs and I think Steve would like listening to them#Mike thinks Eddie was kidnapped and he does not approve of it#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#dustin henderson#steddie#fanfic#mike wheeler#max mayfield#lucas sinclair
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Secret Life Tarot Reading no. 5!
It's Tango's turn!
So this reading has been done after episode 3s have gone out while the previous ones (Joel, Martyn, Grian, Impulse) were done after ep 2s. Oh and I've decided to put the cards I draw in a colored font now too instead of italics!
Also just a reminder that you don't really need to know anything about Tarot Cards here. Just understand that I'm using them to predict how Secret Life is going to go for its lovely players that we all know and love. I guess it'd be good to mention that I'm interpreting the meaning of the cards I draw to fit a Minecraft smp (of all things good lord what am i doing pft /lh). I could very easily interpret the cards one way and the cards mean it in a different way. Or they could just be wrong who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
First Card - Start
To describe the start of this season (which has definitely now passed) I drew the Seven of Cups in reverse. This card represents chaos and indicision, which, if you've seen Tango's 1st episode... kinda makes sense? I'll be honest I've seen his pov so far but I have a terrible memory. I do remember him struggling to find someone to settle down with in the first episode. The first ep is always pretty chaotic but with the lack of natural regen it's been even more so.
I'll be honest this might've just been a bad pull. My fingers get tingly when I hover over the cards almost like a metal detector. I'm not super good with following that though but that's exactly why I need this practice! I really struggled to pull this first card because the tingling was super strong and it was a bit overwhelming. I have learned though and I'm thinking next time this happens I'll just shuffle again :D
Second Card - Individual
This card is meant to describe how Tango will play! For this I drew the Ten of Wands. Honestly I looked at this and my first thought was that my deck didn't get the message that we're talking about Secret Life and not Decked Out 2 lmao. This card talks about responsibility; that one has had made great accomplishments that they now need to maintain. But then I remembered the whole schtick he's doing with the heart foundation and it made more sense. (Ifykyk. Not spoiling ;3) Tango might struggle with the upkeep of it. It is a very new way to play the game afterall!
Third Card - Social
This card is to describe how things will be going for Tango on the social side of things here. I drew The Magician which funnily enough dropped into my lap while I was shuffling! (If you saw my post just before this one it was after that.) This card is talking about ingenuity and combining strengths which... I mean this sounds again like the Heart Foundation thing! It's a new way to play the game and with all of them working together? I think we've really hit the nail on the head here! I can't really say a whole lot since I don't wanna spoil things. So far though I feel like this reading is saying what they've done (and are doing) is a strong or at least an innovative play so that's good!
Fourth Card - Big Impact
This card is supposed to tell us about what makes the biggest impact for Tango this season. For this I drew The Hanged Man. Now I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that I don't feel comfortable giving interpretations that feel more about the cc's feelings. It feels wrong because- well for one, it's not really what we're talking about is it? We're making predictions on how a game is going to go. But mostly it's just... not exactly good to do a tarot reading on someone without their consent. It's an invasion of privacy. Which- again, not what we're doing. So I'd like to ask you guys who read these to also avoid using my readings in this way. Now that I've gotten that out of the way, this card represents inner reflection and the need for a break. (See why I went on that tangent now?) Regardless of what may immediately come to mind I do genuinely feel like this card is talking about the gameplay! This card is talking about needing to postpone decision making to further think and reflect on a situation. It's really pushing the idea that Tango's going to need to pause and think things through; to not make rash decisions. This probably means that the thing most impactful for his season is a rash descion he makes that he should've thought more about than he does.
Fifth Card - End
Finally I drew the Ace of Pentacles in reverse to describe how Secret Life ends for Tango. This one I feel really follows with our previous card but I think that's more for the final thoughts and theories section >:3 This card talks about a loss of opportunity. For the end of a traffic life season I can think of several different ways this manifests. It would probably be what truly does him in because... well this certainly doesn't seem like winner's end card does it?
My final thoughts and theories:
As much as this reading seems to praise Tango's strategy (if I'm interpreting this right) it's not exactly predicting a bright future for him huh? What Love Island has going is a new and innovative way to lay the chess pieces. But for Tango, in accordance to this reading, it won't be enough. It seems to say he's going to make a poor decision- one that he should've taken the time to think out better. That, with the end card saying he'll have a loss of opportunities... Well I've got a few theories! One option is the ever obvious he takes on a hard task and is then unable to complete it. This would in one way or another result in his elimination either directly taking his last life or by getting him low enough. You could also go a similar route and say he dies trying to complete said hard task due to a lack of opportunity pushing him to take a more dangerous route with it. Honestly with that one it might even just be a normal task.
Another idea is that the Heart Foundation gets a lot of pressure and it uh.. puts a crack in their walls? Man it's hard not to spoil that... Anyway- this could make Tango feel less secure and make him more likely to make a hasty descion. What that descion could be is up for debate (for now ;) ) but a couple ideas are that he leaves his faction (seems p unlikely to me) or makes a bad deal.
Ooh I'm so excited! I'd love to hear what other people think on these. If you've got any other ideas on what my readings could mean I'm all ears lol. 'Til next time!
#traffic life smp#tarot predictions#life series#traffic smp#traffic light smp#secret life#tangotek#trafficblr#life series predictions#secret life tarot prediction
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No Time To Die
1: i warned myself
1942
I knew there was a war going on. I knew I couldn't be there, I can't solve human's problems. I shouldn't. An Eternal is not on Earth for that.
But I can't watch the planet I love getting destroyed. I can't watch people killing each other. Not again. Every human conflict reminds ms the last time I saw my family, how we argued, how we walked away from each other. I remember the feeling of loneliness, watching how we decided to be by our own, all the hopes of going back to Olympia started to shatter, looking how the black dressed man walked downstairs, how the blue dressed man flew away. I knew that we were going to stay here, living on our own.
So when I walked there, watching by far how men shoot each other, I started to feel mad. All the innovations my brother made, all the gifts he made were being used against each other to kill, to destroy. I wanted to step on the middle of them, stop them. I wanted Druig to come back, to control their minds and make them stop, even if it was against our own nature.
I know I can stop them with my own hands. I'm powerful. I can create a hurricane with a simple sigh, or make a volcano explode with the soft movement of my hand. I could stop the war. But not with my powers.
The only option was to watch from the inside, but because I noticed a powerful thing calling me, a power that is not from the planet, more from the outside. An Infinity Stone. I tried to talk with Ajak. I tried to get help.
"No Korra, you know you can't be there. You have to let the humans do their thing, that's how they evolve" she said, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a maternal hug.
"But... I saw Phastos' technology. And I felt something like a non-human power. I swear!" I sighed, looking at my hands and then at the ground, grass moved a little thanks to my powers.
"We can't interrupt-".
"I won't" I interrupted her. "I'm only going to watch. I promise you I won't do anything".
So i went there, meeting the people that fought by America's side, standing alongside Peggy, my new friend. I never used a weapon or my powers to attack, making sure that everyone knew me because of my sense of planning and strategy, thanks to all the years of learning after fighting next to the goddess of the war, Thena.
But when I met Steve Rogers and saw his transformation, I feared the worst.
Did Phastos make this? He can't, right? Ajax would punish him, or Arishem. He can't. He can't be part of this, what if someone discovered his powers? What if the enemy is using his powers?
My mission changed. I understood that Steve Roger, the now named Captain America, was the only one that could finish that war.
I tried everything to be on the squad of the people who went to fight the enemy, showing them my strength and the reason why I was worthy to be with them. Of course I had to cheat sometimes, using my powers to fight against the soldiers who tried to kill me, melting their weapons or throwing them away with a push of air. I had to stay by their side just to see with my own eyes what Phastos made.
It was a little easy to be friends with the team, luckily. And none of them saw me using my powers, how my hands had a golden glow when I used them, even if they were covered with gloves. It was self defense, so I wasn't using them for the good of humanity. No one noticed me. Right?
5 weeks before the assault
The camp was cold. Normally, in this place and many years ago, the sun would be shining, making my skin get softly tanned. I can remember those days where Sersi and I worked with the people, helping them work the land, giving them the material they need and gifting them with protection.
They gave me the name of the Elemental Goddess: the one that brings water, fire and life, that creates mountains and rivers. Korra, the portrayer of the aether, the fifth element.
I miss those times, where we were Gods and our people adored us.
But now, instead of sleeping in a palace built for us, in beautiful rooms decorated with gold and all the gifts the people gave us, I was sleeping in a tent under the rain. I could stop it, but if I do, people will suspect if it never rained wherever I was. And I can't risk it, I can't let them discover me, who I am, why I'm here with them.
It's cold, but the best part about being a woman and having Peggy Carter with me, is that I can have a roof –even if it's the roof of a tent– where I can be safe from the freezing water while sleeping.
But I could hear him, how he coughed, how he sneezed. His groans and deep breaths kept me awake as well as the complainings of the others.
I should make the rain stop, it's too much at this point. I looked around making sure that Peggy was asleep and that my hands were under the sleeping bag, not wanting the golden light to wake up anyone. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the golden likes on my wrists, and closed my hands slowly hearing how the rain stopped hitting the material of the tent. The cold was still there and it's nothing I can fix, but at least the water stopped and tomorrow the ground won't be full of big puddles.
"Thank God" I heard him groan and sigh with relief. He was doing the night shift?
Sometimes I don't understand how they could stay awake all night. With my fellow family we never did that, it was Ikaris the one that made that job. After all, he was one of the strongest and could fly everywhere, if something happened he could be there easier and quicker. We had our jobs and we never did the things others could do.
But those humans... These humans risk their own health, mentally and physically, to keep us safe. In moments like this I understand why Sersi is in love with those people.
I felt the sun rising, making me sit straight and stretch my sore body, looking at my side and sighing when I saw the clothes. I miss my purple and golden suit, I wish I could wear it. But, as all my family, we keep something of our color as our identity. I always wear purple dresses or skirts, and when I have a uniform I keep a necklace of a beautiful oval amethyst with gold gifted by Tutankamun after helping him during his reign.
I sigh, shaking my head, erasing all those old memories from my mind and focusing on the present, and get up getting dressed with the uniform, that green skirt with a white shirt as Peggy. I touched my hair a little making sure it wasn't too obvious that I just got up from bed and tried to make two braids tying them at the back of my head.
After splashing cold water on my face and painting my lips with dark red lipstick while looking at a pocket mirror, I got ready to get out of the tent. For my surprise, James Barnes was there, standing in front of the camp we made last afternoon with his suit wet.
"Morning, Sergeant Barnes" I smiled walking towards him, biting my lip when I saw him opening his eyes and looking at me.
"Agent Ether" he nodded with a sleepy smile, blushing after he stood straight.
"You were doing guard all night?" I frowned looking at him. His hair was still a little wet and his clothes were soaked.
"Half of it, Rogers did the first shift" he nodded and I looked at him.
The first time I was with him was on that exposition Stark made, the one about futuristic things and flying cars –nothing Phastos could make, but I was actually impressed by how he made that car since my fellow Eternal never thought about a car that could fly–. I was already an official agent with Peggy and we had a break from the training that let us go visit our "families". But instead of visiting my non-existent family, I went to investigate any hint of my brother's presence in this war.
We were in the same unit while he was training. I was a supervisor and he was just a soldier that showed his skills quickly, making him be Sargeant fast.
It was true when they say he's a flirty man, even an immortal being like me fell for his charm. But that happened only once.
After that, I never saw him again.
I remember how I felt when they told me he and his unit were captured. How confused I felt, new feelings coming to me. Confusion, anger, sadness. Maybe that nigh was the last time I saw him. And even after that I couldn't stop thinking about him.
But then Steve saved him from the factory where was captured and they were trying to make experiments on him. He brought him back to the main military camp, as well as the other soldiers that were captured, just after Colonel Phillips argued with Peggy and I about letting Steve free around Europe making his own missions.
"I'll try to make a coffee, you want some?" I asked him, gesturing him go to the tent where we keep the food supplies.
"Yeah, thank you" he smiled, brushing his wet hair with his fingers.
I smile and nod, walking to the tent and grabbing two metal cups, the coffee and putting it on them. I looked to my side and grabbed them while golden lines showed up on my hands and the hot water started to grow inside the cups, turning on a black aromatic color. The coffee is ready.
I walked back to him with both cups on my hand after checking that the golden lines and light of my hands were gone, smiling softly to him and handing him the cup I was holding with my left hand. I saw him taking a small sip to it and waited patiently for his reaction.
"How the hell can you make coffee so good?" he gasped, swallowing the black hot drink.
Because I was there when they created this beverage, my soldier.
"My dad has been a coffee lover since I can remember" I lied.
"Then he taught you well" he smiled, groaning softly after swallowing another sip of it.
I smile looking at him while leaning my back on the truck that was next to him. I have to say it: he's handsome. Maybe if he let his beard grow a little he would be more handsome. Yeah, definitely more than Ikaris, maybe just a little more.
"Are you ready to go back home?" he said, sighing, looking to a concrete point and not looking away from it.
Home. I don't have a home. I mean, yes, I have an apartment in Manhattan. But home... I wonder where is the Domo.
"Yeah, kinda" I sighed.
The next minutes were full of an awkward silence, drinking our coffees and hearing people yawning and groaning while they woke up. Colonel Phillips was the first one to get out of his tent, walking around and making sure everything was ready to go to the nearest harbor. Even if it was a long way home, we have to do it. Many of these people didn't see their families for a long time.
"Well, at least now I can forget about this place" he groaned. "Yesterday was really awful".
Colonel Phillips thought all of them were dead, and just minutes after screaming at Peggy that reminded us that all the men were defeated, they just came walking behind Steve. Their faces showed how restless they were, scared and defeated, but not dead. All of them and Steve Rogers were alive and going back home.
"You deserve the rest" I said, nodding. "You served your country well".
He looked at me with a smile, as if what I said touched his heart, making it warm. I just said what maybe a lot of people thought right now. He served his country and now he is returning to his family.
"Well, they are going to give Steve the honor medal" he chuckled, looking at how Steve walked out of his tent stretching his now muscular body, trying to style his hair with his fingers.
I laughed at that. That medal is nothing, just a reminder that he did something heroic, nothing more. But I know Steve, knowing him for the last few weeks, and that thing means nothing to him.
"You have someone waiting for you back in New York?" he asked me suddenly. Is his flirty self back? On one hand, that's good, since he was kidnapped nearly two weeks ago. "I-I mean, family and... Yeah".
"No" I laughed looking at him. "No, I don't have someone waiting for me. My sister is working in London. But I moved to New York to work with Agent Carter".
I mean, Sersi is the one I consider my best friend and sister since we worked a lot together helping people. Makkari and Sprite are like my little sisters, while Thena was like the cool aunt that taught us how to fight and helped us during battles and Ajax was the mother of the group that took care of everyone and listened to us.
"I didn't know you had a sister" he said, impressed.
"I have three, actually. But I'm closer to the one that lives in London..."
"So your family is all around the globe?" be chuckled.
If you knew... All my family is around the globe because of a stupid discussion.
"Yeah, you can say it like that" I smile weakly.
At this point of the morning everyone was already awake, taking all their things to go back to their home. Peggy and Steve were talking, and the smile he had was warm while his eyes danced between her lips and her eyes. That's cute. It reminds me the way Ikaris looked at Serisi, o how Gilgamesh took care of Thena or how Druig talked with Makkari with only their eyes.
Will I ever find someone that looks at me the same way?
"Well, we better get ready" Bucky said, grabbing the empty cup in my hand, his fingers touching mine making me flinch softly. "We have a long journey so we can sleep on some comfortable beds".
I laughed at that comment, shaking my head and walking away, not noticing the way James was looking at me.
"Captain" I nod walking behind Steve and smiling when I saw him blush after I caught him standing close to Peggy.
I wish I could find someone like they did. I wish he looked at me like that again, how he did that night.
#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#bucky#bucky x reader#bucky imagine#bucky fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you
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titanic watch notes (4/14/23)
when jack saves rose from the back of the ship and the colonel asks cal to give a reward to jack and he offers money rose asks him "is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" that means she knows that he loves her yet she still shoves him or any pathway to effective communication aside. this also insinuates that their relationship probably used to be better than what we see in the movie
it's said that nathan (cal's father) was the claimant for the insurance claim that was placed on the necklace after the ship went down but it was filed under terms of "absolute secrecy" So that could mean a few things 1) simple damage control 2) he sees cal as incompetent and he feels the need to cover up such a huge financial loss at the hands of cal's impulsivity (this could hint at their relationship being strained)
why doesnt cal end up keeping the drawing ????? considering how badly he wants to possess rose why wouldn't he have held onto a drawing of her naked body ?? maybe he didnt because of the intent behind the drawing and it wouldve been too painful to look at but it is still very much A Question
and on that note why does cal tell rose that he framed jack???? if he wanted her to get onto a lifeboat and go back to her life in first class and still marry him and everything why would he jeopardize all of that for a snarky one-liner ???? ("you know it's a pity i didn't keep that drawing it'll be worth a lot more by morning") im just gonna chalk it up to james cameron being bad at making characters with actual dimension
continuing on that: there are so many stupid cartoonish one-liners that cal has throughout the film just to very much communicate to the audience that he is The Bad Guy. one example of this that annoys me is the whole "something picasso" bit like oh god forbid someone who's morally ambiguous have any appreciation for art or culture (rose being into these things somehow makes her morally superior ???) another one i really hate is the whole "i suppose i might start minding what she reads from now on" at the lunch scene when rose makes that dick joke abt freud
also lol when she makes that joke that insinuates she knows what d*ck is (subtext into cal and rose's relationship ???)
when brock is talking to old rose about to hoto he regurgitates the same thing that cal told her he gave her the diamond (worn by louis the sixteenth, very rare, etc, etc.)
when jack saves rose from jumping she grabs his hand that doesnt have her engagement ring on it
cal gives rose the diamond the same night she tries to kill herself. he knows what she was really doing at the back of the ship, or at least some semblance of it
THAT SAID:
still totally hung up on the whole "john calvert is actually cal" theory lol of all of the names that james cameron could have chosen for her new surname it Had to be That ???
cal and rose both act the same way under any sort of scrutiny (defensive and they automatically move to insulting the other person)
why is it scandalous that madeline astor (who is rose's age) is pregnant but not scandalous that another man is clearly traveling with his mistress (spoiler alert: it's misogyny)
the presence of god and christianity throughout the film ("god himself could not sink this ship", the church service on the morning of the day the titanic hits the iceberg - which is only available to upper class passengers ??? - the priest praying and speaking psalms as the ship is sinking) i think that the larger cultural commentary here is that during this age (early 1900s to 1910s) there is so much innovation and invention happening that humanity begins to feel that they are on par with god (esp the wealthy)
jack and rose have s*x right before the ship hits the iceberg, big juxtaposition between life and death there
still cant get over how rose put her name on the survivors list as rose DAWSON…. theres no way cal didnt know she was alive they saw eachother again after the sinking even if it was him seeing her on a poster for a movie/play or her reading headlines about him or maybe one day they seek each other out but regardless yea theres no way they didnt have contact again
also on that note old rose is an extremely unreliable narrator bc when she talks about cal killing himself she says at the end "or so i read" so there's a level of ambiguity there, there's also some hesitation of her to admit that she kept up with him all of those years bc then it would have completely discredited everything she had said about jack being her one real love etc etc
#if anyone has anything theyd like to discuss or add or debate pls pls pls send asks/dms i could talk abt this stupid movie every single day#for the rest of my life <333
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False Love's Kiss
Summary: Playing the lead roles in Broadway's Beauty & The Beast wasn't Laxus' idea. Neither was all the practice kissing. And that's all it was. Practice. Right?
Notes: Day five of @fuckyeahfraxus Fraxus Week. Today's sub genre is theatre romance. This has a lot of musical references, and strays a little from the prompt. Hope you like it.
Links: Ao3, FFN
False Love's Kiss
1: When They Did It The First Time
"So, I want the ensemble doing their stretches and the core cast doing their vocal warmups," Bob said, looking down at the clipboard. "Except for Laxus and Freed. For the first five minutes of every practice, I want the two of you to sneak away to a corner and start kissing."
And with that, Laxus was ready to quit.
He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to do this, and he didn't want to kiss this stranger. For god's sake, Laxus was a master actor who was well renowned on Broadway, headlining show after show and retaining his dignity while doing so. He had cornered the market on male leads in adult shows, getting top billing in productions for American Psycho, Hadestown and Blood Brothers. He saw himself as a serious actor who told stories through his craft, not someone to be laughed at or viewed by kids. So, getting a role in Beauty and The Beast went against everything his career had stood for.
Bickslow was to blame; he always was. The idiot had taken a risk and starred in an off Broadway show that was doomed to fail. Laxus had told him this, Bickslow had argued it would be a sleeper hit, and they'd struck a deal. If Bickslow's play lasted six months, Laxus would have to audition for any show of Bickslow's choosing.
A critical darling.
A masterpiece.
An innovation beyond comprehension.
Those had been the reviews for Bickslow's new play, and not only did the production survive, but it moved to one of the most sought after theatres in the damn country. Bickslow had delightedly bragged about his success and poured over every upcoming production until finding the perfect one to ruin Laxus' reputation. He had settled on a remake of Beauty and the Beast, directed by an experimental new guy who wanted to remake the show for modern audiences. Bob, the director, had given a speech about how he would change the show for the better and bring it into the present, but Laxus hadn't cared. All he cared about was that he was in a kids show! He didn't do kids shows!
What was worse was the role he was playing. When Bickslow had told him the show, Laxus had assumed he would play Gaston. It made sense, it was embarrassing enough and Laxus had the body for it. Gaston, at least, had less stage time, and Laxus always preferred playing villains. He could explore the dark side of the man and ignore the romance of the story. He didn't play romantic characters.
Until now. Because now, he was playing The Beauty. The romantic lead. The girl - or guy, apparently - who sang about his desires and was the beating heart of the show.
Why couldn't he at least be The Beast? At least that was a character with some bite and some grit. Out of all the main characters he could have played, he had been forced to audition for the soppy, open hearted, 'belt out your feelings' guy in a show meant for kids. It was against everything his career had been built on.
"You're kidding," Laxus said, stepping up to Bob with an unimpressed look. "You want me to kiss a stranger - a guy who might not be able to act, by the way - every damn day?"
"You'll be kissing him on stage, you might as well get used to it now. That's what happens when you're headlining on a romantic story," Bob smiled, patting Laxus on the arm. "And just because you've never acted with Freed, it doesn't mean he can't act. You'll see; I know what I'm doing. Now, rip the bandaid off."
Bob waddled off, and Laxus glared at him for a moment before looking at his co-star, and his own personal Beast. He had to scoff at the idea; this guy was meant to be the monster Laxus was scared of? Ridiculous.
Freed was half a head shorter than Laxus, with a thinner body to boot. He walked around with the confidence and elegance of a Prince, not of a wild beast who was angry at the world and could make a guy like Laxus scared. Nobody would believe it! No amount of script work and makeup and lighting could disguise the fact that Freed should be The Beauty, and Laxus The Beast! It just didn't make sense and it wasn't going to work. Laxus didn't want his career affected by an untested director and a new actor on his debut. He'd worked too hard to have it ruined by experimental theatre.
He wasn't going to kiss the guy. Not when he wasn't doing a run through or when he was on stage. These exercises didn't help acting, they were just there to be spoken about during the press interviews. Laxus was too much of a professional to-
"Excuse me?" A voice cut through Laxus' thoughts, and he turned to look down at his Beast. Look down. Because The Beast was shorter than him.
"Can I help you?" Laxus said with crossed arms.
Freed didn't say anything, he looked Laxus up and down with assessing eyes, before he acted. He took the three steps so that he was chest to chest with Laxus, reached up and grabbed Laxus by the hair. He tugged him down with a vicious grip, and Laxus spluttered as he was yanked into an aggressive, harsh kiss with a man who he'd never really spoken to.
Laxus was kissing back without realising it, lips moving and following Freed's lead. One of Freed's hands was still tugging at his hair as the other rested on Laxus' hip, almost possessively. Laxus didn't know what to do, he just couldn't stop kissing.
When they pulled apart - no, when Freed pulled away - Laxus found himself breathless. He hadn't ever been kissed like that before, and certainly not by a stranger in front of a crowd, and he stood stupid for a moment before his good sense came back to him. A wolf whistle knocked him back to reality, and he looked around to see everyone laughing at them. But, when he looked back to Freed, he couldn't look away from the self satisfied grin on the man's face.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Freed said, and his voice held a teasing note. "And Bob was right. You really are an excellent Beauty."
There was a danger behind his smile, and suddenly Laxus could see The Beast in the man. And for some reason, he liked it.
----
2: When Laxus Understood His Role
Watching Freed act, he understood why Bob had cast him in the role. They were on the second week of practising and workshopping, and Freed was doing an initial runthrough of one of his scenes. He was acting against Wakaba, who was playing Laxus' father. They were doing the scene where the father gets trapped in The Beast's castle and is trapped by The Beast.
Freed wasn't playing the role like it had been in the movie, he was clearly making it his own. It was as if The Beast was an ocean, calm on the surface but with vicious cruelty lurking just below. He was sharp and curt and just nasty enough to be a threat. Laxus couldn't take his eyes away.
He'd never seen acting like this. It was enthralling.
Huddled in the back corner of the practice room, Laxus was in awe of Freed's performance. He hadn't seen Freed act yet; he had been running through his initial scenes with Sting, who was playing their version of Gaston. It had been fun acting with Sting, who was known as an up and coming star after his run on Wicked. Sting seemed to be enjoying himself too, playing up to the fuckboy persona they'd given Gaston to replace his overly masculine cliche. But this week, Sting was starting on performing the updated Gaston song, so Laxus was left without a partner.
Laxus had expected to act alongside Freed, but he had been told to sit and watch. Bob had given him a knowing look before instructing Freed and Wakaba about the scene they should play, and Laxus had wondered what the look meant.
It was obvious now. This was Bob showing that Freed was more than right for the role.
And of course, he was. Freed seemed like he was born to play the beast. He seemed to have replaced The Beast's more animalistic side with something more demonic, and Laxus didn't dare look away. His mannerisms, his snarls, the way he seemed to be holding himself back and fighting against his instincts was perfect. Laxus had seen flickers of fear on Wakaba's face that didn't seem to be acting.
He should be jealous. He should be wishing he could play the role; that was the type of role he always got in shows. But there was something great about seeing someone take the mantle of the bad guy and do it so well. Laxus could watch it forever.
"Close your mouth dear, you'll catch flies," Bob hummed, and Laxus turned to look at him. When had he sat next to him? "I assume you approve of him now."
"Yeah," Laxus nodded. There was no use lying. "How did you find him?"
"Community theatre, he was playing Beetlejuice of all things," Bob smiled as the scene went on. "He was a shining talent, and I knew there was a role for him somewhere, I just didn't know what. Then I spoke to him, and he wasn't anything like his character. He was like a prince - oh how they'll swoon for him! But I knew it the moment we first spoke. He was my Beast."
"You're right," Laxus admitted, watching as Freed lurched towards Wakaba. "You've got an eye for casting."
"Of course I do. Why do you think I pushed your friend into making that bet?" Bob fluttered his lashes, then giggled when Laxus gaped. "Oh, don't look at me like that, dear. I've been in this business a lot longer than you, I know how to get what I want. Even if you don't think so, you were born to play this role."
"Yeah, right," Laxus murmured.
"I needed it to be you, I want you to know that," Bob turned to Laxus, and looked serious. "Freed is a talent, but he needs to be sculpted. He needs someone to help him, even if he won't admit it. Someone to show him how Broadway works, how to survive it. He's one of those talents who'll outshine everyone you partner him with. But so are you. Put the two of you together and you've got magic."
"So what?" Laxus asked, buffering past the compliment as he always did. "You want me to take him under my wing?"
"I want you to take him by the reins and make that talent into something beautiful," Bob corrected, snapping a fan open. "It's funny, you two are on the same journey as your characters. You need to take a risk and move away from your comfort zone, and he needs someone to realise his true potential and make him into the man he should be."
"My character domesticates his, you want me to do that?"
"I've seen him drunk, some domestication wouldn't hurt him," Bob laughed. "He's an unpolished diamond, and he needs a firm hand to get him to sparkle. You're the man for the job, so stop focusing on how this isn't a role you'd normally do, or how you're shy about being romantic. Freed is your goal here. Make him live up to his potential; you're spectacular enough to play your role without thinking. You'll make it work."
He ignored the compliment again, but decided his director was right. This was a project he needed to get right, and if focusing on Freed would distract him enough to get over his reservations, then that's what he had to do. And if Bob was right, and the two of them did share similarities with their characters, then it was time for Laxus to play his part.
Uncaring for the scene that was happening, Laxus stood up and walked towards Freed. Both he and Wakaba stopped their acting to look at Laxus with annoyed confusion, and Laxus didn't stop as he approached Freed.
Hooking an arm around Freed's waist, he pulled him close and pressed their lips together. He made sure it was a passionate kiss, with Freed pressed against him and kept him close. Freed's hands seemed at a loss of where to land, and they settled on Laxus' arms and seemed to latch onto them. Laxus smirked, let Freed rest for a moment, before pulling away with his arm still wrapped around his waist.
"You might be The Beast, but I'm the guy who tames you," Laxus purred, playing up his confidence with a grin. "Tomorrow, we're gonna run through our first scene together. I wanna see what you've got, first hand."
Freed blinked, and had he been gaping? False bluster, betrayed by a blush, flashed over him, and he spoke with a false confidence. "I look forward to it."
"Bet ya do," Laxus laughed, removing his arm from around Freed but not stepping back. "I'm gonna break for lunch. See ya later, Beast."
"Until tomorrow, Beauty," Freed said as Laxus retreated. And if the word beauty made Laxus pause for a moment, then it was nobody's business.
----
3: When The Music Started Playing
Technically, Laxus didn't have to go to work that day, but he couldn't help himself.
There was no point in sugarcoating it, he has become obsessed with how Freed performed at work. Over the three weeks they'd been working together, he had seen first hand how Freed had taken the character of The Beast and made it his own. He kept that gentlemanly side that was often forgotten with The Beast, and yet underlined it with a feral undertone that never truly left. It was like he was playing a romantic lead with a horror character sneaking in. He was balancing both sides of the character so easily, and Laxus had to wonder how he managed it.
He was wondering about a lot of things, actually. How had a man with that talent had never been on Broadway? How had Bob discovered him? What did he do in their daily kisses during practice to make Laxus so weak at the knees?
More than anything, in that moment, he wondered what it sounded like when Freed was singing.
That was what that day was: a song workshop. Bob had decided that, while he would use all the songs that the Disney movie was famous for, he would also add more to balance out the story. The Beast in particular was going to have two additional songs made for him. One during his initial transformation into The Beast, and one during the attack of the castle when he was fighting Gaston. Both songs had been drafted, and Freed was performing them for the composer and director for the first time.
Laxus settled into the back row of seats in their theatre, idly looking around. He hadn't seen the stage as they did all the practising in another building. The set dressing was half way done, and Laxus had to admit it would be nice to see such a vibrant stage day to day.
But all that fell away when Freed walked on stage.
The music began, and Laxus recognised it as the transformation song: CRACKED! It was a dramatic and almost villainous song, full of sharp lines and angry moments. Bob had supposedly been inspired by No Good Deed from Wicked, and Laxus had heard their composer singing it as he worked on the lyrics. It was a good song, and Laxus was fascinated how Freed would handle it.
In a word, Freed was spectacular.
He has this rasp to his voice, and he knew how to growl during a belt. He never stumbled over the faster parts of the songs, his diction was perfect, and the dark side of his character shone through but kept his humanity. Freed was pacing angrily across the stage, as if wrapped up by his character. It was a spectacle.
Freed needed a love ballad. Was that selfish of Laxus to think?
There was a romantic side to Freed, Laxus knew that deep in his gut. While he was perfect in this moment of desperation and anger, Laxus felt like Freed would thrive singing about his feelings. He knew that there wouldn't be a damn soul who could listen to Freed belting out a ballad in his Beast voice without falling in love with him.
He shouldn't be thinking like that. And thankfully, he didn't need to fixate on that, as the song ended.
As tended to happen, Bob and the composer were talking to each other in hushed tones as they discussed what worked and what didn't in the song. Laxus watched as Freed climbed down from the stage and grabbed a bottle of water, which he downed in one go. Even from this far away, Laxus could see the way Freed's throat bobbed and contracted, and no doubt there would be a few droplets of water that flowed down his neck. What would it be like to lick the trail left by that droplet?
That thought, too, was dismissed immediately. And not just because it was inappropriate, but also because Freed was walking down the aisle towards him.
"I thought you weren't working today?" Freed asked in greeting.
"Didn't have anything better to do," Laxus shrugged, standing up. It was awkward, he could have remained sitting down. "And I wanted to know what your voice sounds like. We've got a duet, need to know how I can match you."
"And did I pass the test, since that's obviously what this was?" Freed laughed, and it made Laxus' stomach warm.
"I've worked with worse singers," Laxus offered, because he was as bad at giving compliments as he was at accepting them. "Little scratchy."
"I'll endeavour to correct it," Freed drolled, but there was a smile peaking at his lips. Those lips were plump and wet from the water, and annoyingly distracting. Thankfully, Bob called for Freed to return to see what he thought of adjusted lyrics, and Freed's shoulder's drooped just a little. "I should get back."
"Yeah, you should," Laxus agreed, even though he didn't agree at all.
Freed turned half a shoulder, before halting and looking back at Laxus. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, and then stepped into Laxus' space and kissed him slowly and gently for less than a second. The brevity of it left Laxus stumbling, and he almost followed Freed with his lips, before he caught himself.
"What was that?" Laxus asked.
"We're both working today. Bob said we needed to kiss every day that we work together to get comfortable with it," Freed said it slightly rushed, and he was turning before Laxus could respond. "I'll speak to you before I leave."
And with that, he was on the stage again, leaving Laxus yearning for more. But he wasn't going to think about that, just like he wasn't going to think about how much of a weak excuse Freed had given him.
----
4: When Absence Made The Heart Grow Fonder
So, Laxus had been forced to act alongside an understudy. That hadn't been fun.
Gajeel was a good enough actor, and he definitely could play the part of The Beast well. He made the part his own and there was nothing wrong with his performance, and he and Laxus had enough on stage chemistry to make a love story believable, but it hadn't been the same. There hadn't been that crackle that had been there between him and Freed.
It was why Laxus felt so relieved when he saw Freed sitting at one of the tables in the training space, poring over a revised script with glasses perched on his nose. Laxus had never seen him wearing glasses, and he couldn't help but find the look kinda cute.
He strode towards Freed, hooked a chair with a hand and spun it around so he could straddle the back while looking at Freed. He sat there for a moment, an amused smile on his face as Freed seemed trapped in his own world despite the clatter of the chair and Laxus casting a shadow over the script. He tilted his head, rapping the table with a knuckle to get Freed's attention. He looked up with a jerk, and Laxus laughed.
"Hey," Laxus greeted.
"Morning," Freed greeted in response.
Laxus leant forward and tipped Freed's chin up with a finger, pressing his lips to Freed's in a slow and soft kiss in greeting. That had become such a part of the day to day life, Laxus didn't even see it as kissing anymore. It was just something he did, a part of the day just like his morning coffee or the bagels that they both brought for lunch side by side. It was part of the schedule.
Except for the times it wasn't. Because some days, for a reason Laxus didn't know, Freed's kisses made him weak at the knees. He didn't focus on those days, though.
"I missed ya yesterday," Laxus informed him, leaning his elbows on the table after he pulled away. "Where were ya, ya look rough? Hungover. Birthday party," He leant forward and whispered in a teasing tone. "Hooked up with someone and wanted to keep it going into the morning?"
Freed laughed, slid off his glasses and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. "The opposite, actually. A break up."
"Oh, shit," Laxus cussed. "Sorry."
"You don't need to be," Freed put up a hand to placate Laxus, who was frowning now. "We were together for a year and a half, so it's not too long really. I know we were drifting apart when I moved to New York, and he started to become angry over the little things during our calls. But, even knowing that doesn't make it any nicer," He shook his head, and looked back at Laxus. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. It was just a little too raw at the time, I was hardly in the right mind to pretend I was madly in love."
"I get it," Laxus said to assure him. "You okay to do it today? Nobody's gonna question you, and a year and a half is a long time. Even if you don't agree."
"I'm fine," Freed didn't sound like he believed his own words, and Laxus tried not to be annoyed by that. "It'll take some time to get used to it. He was part of my routine, I think. I'll adjust."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," Freed nodded. "And me and Sting our practising our fight scene. That'll be cathartic. My ex was a blonde as well, so perhaps I can pretend it's him falling to his death. Is that twisted?"
"A little," Laxus shrugged. "But, on behalf of the blonde men of the world, we can be pretty good."
"I'm sure you can," Freed agreed, and Laxus was almost sure Freed's eyes flickered over him for just a moment. He ignored it, because Freed was standing up and cracking his back. He looked ready to go towards the mockup of the bridge that was currently being made for the stage. Laxus reached out and grabbed Freed by the hand before he could stop himself, keeping Freed where he was.
"Don't let it get ya down," Laxus instructed, then gave a yank to pull Freed closer to him. "He's an idiot for breaking up with ya."
"Thank you," Freed said, and ducked his head and shyly averted his look. He had never seen Freed shy before.
For a reason he couldn't explain, not even to himself, he stood up and ran both hands down Freed's sides. Freed watched him with wide eyes as Laxus leant in, tilting his head and pressing a slow, chaste kiss onto Freed's lips. It lasted less than a second, but it was one of those beautiful knee weakening kisses that Laxus loved and was terrified of.
And the look on Freed's face, blissed out but confused, was magic to Laxus. He didn't want to ignore that feeling anymore. No, he needed to think about it properly now.
----
5: When They Were Close To The Beginning
Dress rehearsals were always a big deal. It was a sign that the show was coming together and that they were getting closer and closer to opening night. It was the first performance when the show felt complete, and Laxus had always found it to be one of the most exciting days in the whole process.
His costumes were honestly great. Over the process of working on Beauty And The Beast, he had grown to love all the colour and happiness and life that was teeming through the production. All his horror plays, and dramatic musicals were dark, dingy and cynical. He loved them, and he would never take what he'd done for granted, but there was something so bright about this musical and Laxus found himself wrapped up in it. All of his costumes, from the tattered outfit he had for the first act, to the golden tuxedo he wore when dancing with Freed, were perfect.
He leant against the wall outside of the hair and makeup room, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He should have been inside, getting himself ready before putting on his first costume, but whoever was ahead of him was taking too much time.
"Hey," Laxus yelled into the door. "Hurry it-"
Just as Laxus was going to bang on the door, so when it opened, he stumbled forward a bit. He was suddenly eye to eye with Freed, but not the Freed he knew. Freed in full makeup, prosthetics, and costume.
It was incredible.
He wore small stilts, so now was a little taller than Laxus. He wore a Disney style suit, but with tufts of black fur peeking out from it. His hands were covered in prosthetics that made it look as though he had claws. Looking up further, he saw that Freed's face was covered in scales, crowned by a shock of manic green hair. Twisting and spiralling horns were protruding from his head, and Laxus got the urge to touch them. But he didn't, because he was caught up in Freed's eyes; which were a deep purple thanks to some industrial strength contact lenses. It was perfect.
"Damn," Laxus whistled, looking Freed up and down. "Not bad."
"Such insolence will not go unanswered. A creature like you should be kneeling at my feet," Freed said, using his in character voice, before grinning and ruining the effect. Laxus preferred it when it was ruined. "It's impressive, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Laxus agreed, still looking the man up and down. "Don't know how you're gonna do the transformation scene. This looks intense."
"The lighting team takes care of most of it," Freed shrugged. "I'm wearing another suit under this, the fur comes off easily enough, the only difficulty is getting rid of the makeup and the horns without anyone seeing. But that's what the workshop is going to be, I suppose."
Laxus bristled at the mention of the workshop. Freed's character needed some unique work that Laxus' didn't. Wirework, combat training, movement training for the stilts, and extra choreography. To get it all done before they started performing their previews, Freed was being taken out of regular rehearsals for a month so he could solidify his own character without the distractions of other people. Laxus would be acting alongside Gajeel for all that time, and the thought wasn't an appealing one. Again, Gajeel was fine, but Freed was becoming the regular highlight of Laxus' day and he wasn't ready to give that up yet.
"Laxus?" Freed asked, and Laxus blinked. "You okay?"
"What can I say, I like monsters," Laxus shrugged, then realised his mistake. Yes, he'd not shown Freed he would be missing him, but in a lot of ways he'd made it worse. He'd offered Freed ammunition against his dignity.
"Oh do you?" Freed purred in his character voice, and he trailed a claw down Laxus' cheek. Laxus matched his expression with an unimpressed frown. "Maybe you should be kneeling for me after all."
"Ha ha," Laxus said blandly. "You wish."
"Is that why you took the role, to fill out your fantasies?" Freed mused.
"I'll kick you off ya stilts if ya don't shut up," Laxus grumbled, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Is it really gonna take a month to get everything done?"
"That's what Bob says," Freed shrugged, then looked off to the side.
"We're gonna miss ya," Laxus informed him, and Freed smiled a tiny smile that spurred Laxus on to speak again. "I'm gonna miss ya."
"We could always meet outside of work," Freed offered, shrugging a little and still not looking towards Laxus. He had that reserved and shy look that he didn't let many people see, and even under the makeup, Laxus could tell he was nervous. "I'm not doing anything after rehearsal. Perhaps we could get a drink. If you'd like."
"Yeah, I would like it," Laxus nodded, beaming despite himself.
"Good," Freed smiled. "I should go. First on the stage, I expect they'd probably miss me."
"Probably would," Laxus agreed, but Freed didn't move and Laxus didn't want him to. They stood, happened to catch one another looking, then looked away again. When Freed looked like he actually was going to walk to the stage, Laxus reached out and took Freed's hand, stopping him just like he had before. "Wait."
"Yes?"
Laxus cupped Freed's cheeks gently, being sure not to smudge the makeup as he kissed Freed again. This wasn't soft, not chaste, but it was honest. It was one of those knee weakening kisses again, and the genuine feelings Laxus was trying to communicate spurred him on. Freed seemed to melt into it, kissing back slowly and happily, and when he stumbled over his stilts Laxus laughed and kept him upright after pulling away. They smiled at each other, alone in the corridor.
"You still wanna meet after practice?" Laxus asked, because he needed to be sure. Freed smiled at him.
"Absolutely."
----
+1: When It Was Real
Opening night. Freed couldn't help but feel nervous.
He could hear the music and the chatter from the theatre as a mixture of reviewers and members of the public made their way to their seats. Freed had performed many times, and he knew that this was the same thing just with a bigger crowd and with more expensive tickets. When he thought it through, he could rationalise himself out of nerves and say that, once it had started, he'd be too wrapped up in performing to actually panic. But that didn't help now.
A Broadway debut could make or break a person's career, so Freed needed to get it right. He would, he knew that because he was a professional, but that didn't make it any easier to calm down. Why did he have to be the first one on stage?
"You look nervous?" Laxus murmured, stepping beside him. That small act made him feel better at ease.
"I am," Freed admitted.
"You don't need to be," Laxus said it like it was a fact. "This isn't gonna be the day you fuck up. This is the day the world gets to know Freed Justine. It's your day."
"Thank you," Freed smiled, looking over the stage.
Suddenly, a hand was cupping his cheek and he was forced to look at Laxus. He was dressed in his first act costume, of a tattered waistcoat, slightly ripped trousers and a white shirt. He looked every bit like the romanticised peasant that his character was based on, and his scruffy hair was oddly charming. Freed smiled looking up at him.
They moved in unison, tilting heads and kissing slowly. Freed loved these kisses and melted into them each time. Laxus was his own weakness, and also his strength.
"You'll do great," Laxus whispered, stroking a strand of Freed's hair into place. "The world ain't ready for you. You'll knock 'em dead."
"Thank you," Freed whispered the words, before pulling away and straightening his back. Laxus was right, he could do this. This was what he was meant to do. He could do this in his sleep. If he could fall for his costar and have a better relationship with him than any other man he'd known, then he could do his job and play his part.
Bolstered by Laxus' words, and with the tingle of his kiss still on his lips, Freed entered the stage.
#Fraxus Week#Fraxus Week 2022#Fraxus#Freed Justine#Laxus Dreyar#Freed x Laxus#Fairy Tail#Fanfic#Writing#Writing Event#One Shot#Modern Au#Theatre AU
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My ★★½ review of La La Land on Letterboxd https://boxd.it/3Id8fT
I’ve put off reviewing this because my feelings on La La Land are more mixed than on any other film. I hated it when I first saw it, but also couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now I hate every other thing about it and love everything else. So this review’s gonna have to be in bullet point form:
• The music is always fantastic, but the modern breathy vocal style doesn’t suit it, especially the opening number when it sounds like 100 Phoebe Bridgerses.
• There’s a whole song about how Mia might meet someone at this party but then she goes to the party and nothing happens. She meets Sebastian on the way home but that doesn’t count.
• As someone who knows nothing about costumes dance or cinematography, the costumes dancing and cinematography are all great!
• Is it meant to be grounded or heightened? The pier scene’s a good example, where he’s singing non-diegetically but the old man reacts to him dancing with his wife like he’s a weirdo. How much are we meant to take seriously? Some say tonal dissonance is over maligned but I for one like to feel my feelings one at a time.
• Ryan Gosling’s so good at playing ridiculous losers that it’s hard to take him seriously.
• The dancing in the stars was magical. I’m not made of stone… I’m made of gosling. Show me something as lovely as that and all is forgiven.
• The random cut to Sebastian’s sister getting engaged reminded me how expendable this film’s supporting characters are.
• THE TWO LEADS ARE ARSEHOLES. They’re so pathetic that for the most part they can’t even temporarily do jobs they don’t enjoy, even if it helps them achieve their dreams in the long run. They’re like the characters from Rent.
• Sebastian looking at the mould on Mia’s ceiling before deciding to take the job in Keith’s band is really good use of shorthand. Chazelle does some really good visual storytelling in this film.
• Keith’s thing about jazz needing to innovate to stay relevant sounds like the mission statement behind ‘LLL’s mixing of old and new styles. It briefly won me over.
• THE TWO LEADS ARE ARSEHOLES. They keep double booking themselves! And in order to make you sympathise with them, every mean character has to be cartoonishly evil.
• The ‘sacrifices’ they do make are so minor. Sebastian has to join a band that he doesn’t 100% love for a few years, and Mia gets an audition for a “huge movie” AFTER LITERALLY ONE PERFORMANCE.
• ‘The Fools Who Dream’ is amazing. It doesn’t even matter that it’s just a long take of Stone singing. The performance and song writing are good enough to carry the scene.
• After being an immature dick, Sebastian suddenly becomes really wise and mature with no explanation.
• The last 10 minutes are perfect.
In summary, ‘La La Land’ is a beautiful film about two pathetic arseholes, that brilliantly brings the classic movie musical into the 21st century... and sadly provided a paycheck to the hacks who went on to write ‘This Is Me’.
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it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
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it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
View notes
Text
it’s hilarious to me when people call historical fashions that men hated oppressive
like in BuzzFeed’s Women Wear Hoop Skirts For A Day While Being Exaggeratedly Bad At Doing Everything In Them video, one woman comments that she’s being “oppressed by the patriarchy.” if you’ve read anything Victorian man ever said about hoop skirts, you know that’s pretty much the exact opposite of the truth
thing is, hoop skirts evolved as liberating garment for women. before them, to achieve roughly conical skirt fullness, they had to wear many layers of petticoats (some stiffened with horsehair braid or other kinds of cord). the cage crinoline made their outfits instantly lighter and easier to move in
it also enabled skirts to get waaaaay bigger. and, as you see in the late 1860s, 1870s, and mid-late 1880s, to take on even less natural shapes. we jokingly call bustles fake butts, but trust me- nobody saw them that way. it was just skirts doing weird, exciting Skirt Things that women had tons of fun with
men, obviously, loathed the whole affair
(1864)
(1850s. gods, if only crinolines were huge enough to keep men from getting too close)
(no date given, but also, this is 100% impossible)
(also undated, but the ruffles make me think 1850s)
it was also something that women of all social classes- maids and society ladies, enslaved women and free women of color -all wore at one point or another. interesting bit of unexpected equalization there
and when bustles came in, guess what? men hated those, too
(1880s)
(probably also 1880s? the ladies are being compared to beetles and snails. in case that was unclear)
(1870s, I think? the bustle itself looks early 1870s but the tight fit of the actual gown looks later)
hoops and bustles weren’t tools of the patriarchy. they were items 1 and 2 on the 19th century’s “Fashion Trends Women Love That Men Hate” lists, with bonus built-in personal space enforcement
138K notes
·
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