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thebahwrites · 11 months

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Slider & Mav + shovel talk...

Slider & Maverick - Shovel Talk (But I'm gonna surprise you <3)

Ron thinks he should be thankful that things worked out between Tom and Pete; it took them long enough after the Layton rescue but he thinks he should be thankful — if it had gone over a year, he'd probably start ripping his hair out. It was even worse not having Goose around to suffer along with but those were thoughts to be buried and not brought up again; the kind that led nowhere and only made him sad to begin with because what else there was to deal?

(Maybe he'd deal with it by himself and a bottle of Jack, when no one was looking.)

But right now, Slider found himself sitting besides Ice who was going over some reports ever so absently, muttering to himself things pertaining to their latest training hop - teaching at Top Gun wasn't a bad place to be so he didn't mind some of these more slowly-trickling days. "What d'you think about Matador Beach?" Tom finally speaks up when Ron was almost dozing off, laying on the couch, he blinks slowly.

"Like... as a place in general or..?" Ice grunts out a small laugh.

"For a date, Kerner." Oh, right, yeah, it made sense. Scratching the side of his neck, all Ron does is shrug, not really thinking too much about it.

"I guess it's fine if you like beaches? Like a picnic or something, right?" Between the two of them, Ron was more impulsive where Tom held back so his dates tended to be a lot less planned than the other's.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Ice shrugs with that typical self-confidence of his and goes back to pour over his reports. Slider's eyes narrow as he realizes he should probably make sure this whole thing doesn't blow over Ice's face. Not that his friend needs protecting but it's always good to secure and Maverick was a damn menace who often needed corralling so a shovel talk, before things got super serious between those two idiots, was more than due.

It wasn't hard to find Maverick these days, if he wasn't on the tarmac or the bar or the hangar, he was at Carole's. (Whom Slider had been avoiding like the plague and he was sure to get an earful from.) So it was quite easy to, on the very next morning, when out for a run to detour so he'd hopefully find Mitchell there; which he did.

What Ron did not expect was to find said man just sitting on the front steps of the house, staring emptily into the distance with a blank expression and slouched shoulders. For someone who was, quite frankly not particularly tall or big - Maverick often took up a lot of damn space. So much so it was easy to forget the inches he lacked in height, making up for it being loud and brash and seemingly larger than life. The kind to not let himself get hit by anything and even if he did, brushing it off like water off a duck's back. Hell, he had come out of a tragedy into a rescue with what, a week to spare?

(Impressive was the right word but Slider would be damned to say it.)

He stands there, at the corners of the fence, watching Mitchell for a moment longer. In his USNA threadbare shirt and running shorts, the man doesn't move for a good while, like he's bracing himself for something, drawing sharp breaths and then burying his face against the back of a knee.

Ron decides to step back, seems like a bad moment.

Then every moment after that seems like a bad moment.

Maybe because he had never tried to pay close attention to Pete until now or maybe because he had never had the chance, always surrounded by others and the very very least Ice was always there too. Maybe he had never really tried to read more than just their regular banter but in the following days, looking for a breach, Slider realizes just how stupidly vulnerable Maverick is. How he keeps fighting uphill to stand taller than everyone, how he keeps his chin up taking hit after hit both metaphorically and physically when it comes down to it.

Their stupid beach picnic date comes and goes without any kind of hiccup and Slider was still trying to find a way to put Mitchell against the wall but the more time went by, the less he actually felt like doing it. It felt wrong, like kicking someone who was already down and he can't quite put a finger on the why. Maverick was a damn runt, is what he was.

It's exactly a week after that, when Ron realizes why, despite all their bantering and picking and arguing and more often than not headbutting, he can't bring himself to be actually hard on Mitchell. Sure call him slow and overthinking, maybe he just liked to cover all of his bases before spurring into action but for once, it at least panned out when the lamp clicked over his head like a cartoon moment.

"Hey." He calls out to Ice, as they're back where they'd been a week ago but instead of lying flat on the couch, Slider is standing right in front of the desk, grabbing his pilot's paperwork to make him look up, serious intent behind it. Tom looks up with a puzzled and slow blink, putting the papers down. They'd always been on the same wavelength

"Hey, what's up?" Ice picked tone shifts easily, he'd learned how to read Slider like an open book and he was glad for it. It was why, and how, they worked so well together for so long. So he could read the very real seriousness on Ron's voice and the very real intensity behind his eyes, adjusting his posture to make sure Ron knew; he was listening.

"Be good to Mitchell." If anyone, ever, held Ron Kerner to those words, he'd probably deny it. Hell, he wasn't so sure he was even saying them but fuck it if he hadn't rehearsed it inside his head for a while now. Holding Ice's startled gaze with firmness, he held a rigid finger pointing at his pilot's chest. "Don't fuck this up, man. I know you're the best and all so I'm counting on you, don't make me kick your blondie ass, got it?"

Tom stared back, surprised and clearly speechless, a little bit like a startled fish with his mouth falling a little open; Ron wanted to backtrack because it felt weird.

But someone had to keep an eye out for Goose's runt, right?

[Send me a Top Gun / Top Gun: Maverick prompt for a ficlet!]

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massivedrickhead · 9 months

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Bechloe Week Day 1: Reunion

Words: 1104

Notes: Well I tried to start Bechloe week with something flirty and fun but naturally I can't help myself and it ended up getting a bit deeper than that. I also think this is a bit of a stretch for a "reunion" prompt...

I'm probably going to be doing 3 of the prompts for this week, but maybe more if I can get time to write them

Read on AO3

“Bec?” Chloe said, wrapping on the door of Beca’s office, one hand absentmindedly rubbing against her stomach. “This is your 30-minute warning, okay? The Bellas are going to be here in an hour.”

“So shouldn’t I get a 60-minute warning?” Beca replied. “They’ll be late anyway.”

“They won’t be late, Aubrey is in charge,” Chloe said, pushing the door open and stepping into her wife’s office. “And you need a 30-minute warning because you’re not greeting our friends - who we haven’t seen in over a year - in your office sweatpants.”

Beca frowned and spun around in her chair. “You love my office sweatpants.”

Chloe cocked her head. “Is that something you imagined I said?”

“I guess I just assumed, since every time I wear them you always want to grab my butt.”

“I think that’s more about your butt than the sweatpants, babe,” Chloe said. “But whether I love the sweats or not, you still need to change.”

“Fine,” Beca said, taking Chloe’s hands and tugging her into her lap. “Well, I don’t need to do any more work, so what should we do with our extra 30 minutes?”

Chloe checked her watch. “It’s more like 27 minutes now.”

“27 minutes? That doesn’t really seem like enough time,” Beca said.

“Well, we could have a little longer if we saved time by showering together,” Chloe said.

“Mrs Mitchell-Beale, I like the way you think.”

Chloe climbed off Beca’s lap and tugged her out of the chair.

“Make the most of this,” Chloe said, pulling her towards the bathroom. “Once the Bellas get here we have to behave for a full week.”

Beca groaned. “Remind me why we have that rule in place again? It seems cruel and unnecessary. It’s not like they don’t know we’re married. They were there. They even saw us kiss.”

“And they still haven’t forgiven us for that time Emily walked in on us in the laundry room,” Chloe said. “Poor girl nearly went blind.”

“In our defence, she didn’t knock first,” Beca replied.

“In her defence, who knocks on the door of a laundry room before they enter?”

“Okay,” Beca said, “fair point.”

They made short work of stripping out of their clothes and were soon stepping into the shower together. As it so often did, Beca’s hand found its way to Chloe’s stomach.

“You’re still sure you want to tell them?” Beca asked.

“Yes,” Chloe said. “When is the next time we will all be together again after this? I want to tell them in person.”

“I know,” Beca said. “I do too.”

“Then why does your face look like that?”

“Genetics?”

“Smart-ass,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes. She put a finger under Beca’s chin and tilted her head up so she would look at her, and not her bump. “Why do you look worried? This is good news.”

“It’s the best news,” Beca said. “It’s just… as soon as we tell them, it stops being our little secret. It… I can’t explain it.”

“You’re scared we’re jinxing it,” Chloe said. Beca’s eyes dropped to Chloe’s stomach again, and Chloe knew she was right. “This isn’t like last time.”

“I know that,” Beca said. “Logically, I know that.”

Chloe pressed a kiss on Beca’s cheek and then pulled her into her arms, and they stayed like that for a little while. The hot water cascaded on and around them, steam rising up to obscure the rest of their bathroom.

Feeling hidden away and protected, Beca spoke again. “Announcing him to our friends, celebrating him, it feels like we’re drawing attention to him. Like we’re asking for something bad to happen. The more excited I get to meet him, the more convinced I am that something is going to take him away.”

“Baby,” Chloe said, softly, holding Beca tighter.

“I know I’m being stupid-”

“-You aren’t being stupid,” Chloe said, cutting her off.

“I know it isn’t logical,” Beca said as if there’d been no interruption. “But then the more I try to convince myself that it isn’t going to happen, the more I feel like it will. If you tell yourself over and over again that everything’s fine, that everything will be fine, then the more likely it is that the universe will want to screw you over.”

Beca’s thoughts were spiralling now, she was working herself into a panic. She took a slightly shuddering breath and opened her mouth, as if to continue before something tapped her on the palm of her hand.

She froze.

During their hug, her hand reached Chloe’s stomach again. One hand was pressed against Chloe’s back, the other resting protectively on the side of her stomach.

She had felt her son kick for the first time.

They hadn’t made it this far last time.

Beca let out a shocked laugh and tears sprang to her eyes before quickly joining the shower water spilling down her cheeks.

“He can hear you,” Chloe said, smiling as tears filled her eyes too. “He’s letting you know that he’s okay.”

Beca laughed again and bent down to press a kiss against Chloe’s stomach.

“Hi buddy,” Beca said. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

“We don’t have to tell the Bellas,” Chloe said. “I can wear my big sweaters.”

“In L.A. in July?” Beca said, straightening back up, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m always cold, they’ll believe it,” Chloe said.

“We should tell them,” Beca said. “They’re our family.”

Chloe smiled. “Good, because they would never have believed the sweater thing.”

Beca laughed and kissed her wife again. “I’m sorry I dumped all that on you. I didn’t mean to, it just came out.”

“Don’t apologise,” Chloe said. “Have you talked to your therapist about it?”

“Yeah, we’re working on it,” Beca said. “I know it’s just my anxiety working overtime. My dumb brain doesn’t like it when I’m happy, apparently.”

“Not dumb,” Chloe corrected. “Just… misguided? It thinks it’s protecting you. It thinks it’s keeping you safe.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Beca said. “I’m sorry I ruined the mood. I was planning on doing my best sex moves and everything.”

“I suppose when everyone’s safe in bed tonight, we could try again,” Chloe said, with a hint of a smirk. “Our door does lock, after all.”

“Do you think you can be quiet enough for that?” Beca asked, grinning as she pulled Chloe in for a kiss.

Chloe pulled away. “We don’t have time right now. I don’t even know what time it is, we’ve been in here for-”

Ding-dong!

“Crap,” Chloe said.

“So greeting them soaking wet and naked is better than my work sweats, how exactly?”

#bechloe week 2023 #bechloe week 23 #bechloe week #bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #beca #chloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #pitch perfect fic #no matter the timeline

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polhgeorgia · 2 years

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The overview effect

THE OVERVIEW EFFECT HOW TO

THE OVERVIEW EFFECT PROFESSIONAL

THE OVERVIEW EFFECT HOW TO

Nor have we prepared for how to react if and when we detect intelligent extraterrestrial life. While more asteroids are detectable today than 20 or 30 years ago thanks to programs like the Near Earth Object Observation Program, we are still not doing everything we can to reduce that risk or any other existential risks to our planet. The survival of our species may depend on our ability to detect threatening asteroids, yet progress on this front has been slow. Current NASA estimates are way less optimistic, although SpaceX still talks about that as a realistic timeline.Įven projects we might consider much more pressing have gotten bogged down. When I attended NASA’s First Mars Human Landing Site Workshop in Houston in 2015, the first astronauts were expected to arrive on the Red Planet in the mid-2030s. Interest in a human mission to Mars has rekindled after a long hiatus. While the ISS did maintain a presence in Earth orbit, it did not fulfill early hopes of propelling us to become a space-faring society (which may only now start to happen due to the initiative of private space companies). Instead, we launched space shuttles and built the International Space Station (ISS). In the 1980s, plans for a lunar outpost never materialized. A Europa lander remains stuck in the conceptual stage. During our discussions, we concluded that a basketball-sized lander to analyze the Europan ice for remnants of organic compounds and possibly life should be included in the mission. I was on the preliminary science definition team for a planned mission to Europa about 20 years ago. New missions to Venus and the outer Solar System are on the drawing board, but all too often these plans get delayed or even cancelled. But in the nearly half-century since the Viking mission, there hasn’t been a single spacecraft sent to Mars or any other planetary body explicitly devoted to detecting life.įor the cost of the Iraq War, we could already have a station on Mars with 10-12 inhabitants. Yes, there are still triumphs like the recent launch of the James Webb Space Telescope. Is our enthusiasm lost in space?Īt the same time, space exploration, especially human space exploration, seems to have slowed down - or at least become less ambitious - over the past couple of decades. Given the current state of affairs on our planet, we clearly could benefit from more people gaining this perspective.

THE OVERVIEW EFFECT PROFESSIONAL

But the overview effect has been experienced by many professional and non-professional space travelers, including the American-Iranian multimillionaire Anousheh Ansari, who described her experience as life-changing. Not everyone is likely to feel the same way as Makarov or Mitchell. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say: Look at that, you son of a bitch.” From out there on the Moon, international politics looks so petty. “You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it. Edgar Mitchell, who walked on the Moon during the Apollo 14 mission in 1971, described it this way:

#The overview effect

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somervillesongwriters · 2 years

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Interview with upcoming artist (September): Glimmer

What's your background in music? You're a keyboard player -- did you start with the standard youth piano lessons or come to your instrument in a different way?

My first introduction to music was the piano at my grandmother’s house. It was an old upright, that slightly hollow out-of-tune sound that I always equate with nostalgia, and I started playing as soon as my fingers could reach the keys. That’s where my love affair with the piano began, and when I was six or seven, my parents signed me up for lessons. I learned classical piano through elementary, middle and high school, and composed little melodies inspired by what I listened to, but also wrote pop songs in my head. When I was fourteen, one of my teachers lent me a Tori Amos album, Little Earthquakes. I listened to it obsessively on my portable CD player, and it inspired me to use the piano as medium for my own songwriting.

Your songs are so catchy melodically and lyrically -- who are your primary songwriting influences?

This is such a good question, and such a hard one to answer with constraint! As a kid, I loved listening to the Four Tops and the Supremes, and I still draw inspiration from that style of music. Tori Amos was my first songwriting influence as a piano player, but I also listened to a ton of Vanessa Carlton and Alicia Keys as a teenager. Later I was drawn to artists like Joni Mitchell, Fiona Apple and Elliott Smith, who drew me in with their emotionally raw lyrics and often surprising harmonic progressions. I’ve always loved Queen, their originality and exuberance and how they weren’t afraid to write songs in a variety of styles and structures. In college I also drew a lot of inspiration from jazz standards, Cole Porter, Rogers&Hammerstein, Duke Ellington, that sort of thing. I think everything I listen to influences me one way or another. I’m grateful to have access to so many different artists and styles of music…there are infinite sources of inspiration out there and I want to take in as much as I can!

You've been involved in music as mental health recovery; how did you get involved with that issue? What do you see as the role of music in mental health?

Mental illness is an issue that unfortunately involved itself with me from a young age, but I didn’t start getting effective treatment until I was in my early twenties. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety since childhood, and it became severe when I was in my early teens, persisting through adulthood. I had a lot of shame around my depression for a long time; I saw it as something I had to hide, and something I should be able to “try” my way out of. What’s so insidious about that thinking is that it actually contributes to the severity of your symptoms. You get caught in this spiral of shame, self-blame and a deep-seated sense of “wrongness,” and the longer you try and fail to guilt yourself into positive feelings, the more hopeless and worthless you feel.

I think a lot of people struggle with mental health issues in silence, especially if they are “functional.” And I also think a lot of mental health issues feed on denial and silence. To me, music is the antidote to that. It opens a door and allows you to look beyond the forced silver linings to what’s going on inside. The pain is still there, the struggle is still real, but now you have something to help you connect with others and yourself through that struggle. Music is also the surest way I know of finding the beauty that exists alongside the pain we experience as humans. It shows us who we are, who we’ve been, and who we can be, and allows us to hold the wondrous fullness of that. It gives us something to love when maybe we can’t love ourselves just yet. And that can be life-saving.

Jocelyn (Glimmer) will be playing on Saturday, September 10th, 7:30 p.m., in the Somerville Songwriter Sessions, along with Sam Babineau and host Rachel Marie, at the Somerville Armory Cafe, 191 Highland Ave, Somerville MA. (Great music, great food, free parking.) $15 suggested donation. Questions? [email protected]

#somervillema #livemusic #artsatthearmory #glimmer #songwriters #songwriting

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scottelkartwork · 2 years

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EXHIBITION

CERAMICS

Ceramics 2022 with Gerry Wedd, William Eicholtz, Bern Emmerichs, Bill Blampied & Geoff Mitchell

Maunsell Wicks Gallery, Paddington. 16 Aug 2022 - 28 Aug 2022

What I connect with…

It’s so lovely seeing an exhibition focused on Australian ceramics. Ceramics 2022 brings together five artists represented by Maunsell Wicks. With the exception of William Eicholtz, each artist treats the ceramic medium as a surface to paint on, with the works easily imagined on paper or canvas.

Gerry Wedd’s intricate line work is highly conceptual referencing back to a myriad of influences ranging from Ancient Greek & Roman pottery motifs, religious art, Edo Japan woodblock prints, early colonial Australia, to contemporary consumerist brands, and sporting celebrities, all while dancing over a variety forms. Each of Wedd’s artworks find a unique and appropriate form to match the content; from vessels, plates, and the iconically Australian rubber thong. It’s easy to draw comparisons to U.K. ceramicist Greyson Perry for Wedd’s approach in using traditional forms loaded with contemporary subject matter, especially the bright canary yellow works with delft blue and white details; this comparison may seem like a lazy link to make especially when discussing ceramic artists, however both seem to take joy in the shock value of crude or controversial subject matter on the surface of their alluring pots.

Another artist in the exhibition, Bill Blampied, also uses shock value but works in a much more reduced aesthetic, with artworks that seem to be less about the medium and more about the concept. Blampied’s white plates and slip cast commercial cleaning vessel forms, have minimalist line work reminiscent of highly stylised logos, or info graphics, and often include typography of high-end brand names, disparaging sentences, or ironic slang. The body of work Blampied has presented in this exhibition seem to be about the shallowness of hedonistic consumerist culture, memento mori, crippling anxiety, and self-medication, while playing with the dichotomy of a low-brow or unheroic subject matter on an expensive and permanent medium.

An absolute standout in this show is the work by Melbourne artist Bern Emmerichs. It’s been wonderful watching the work of this talented artist develop over many years, with this collection such a masterful display of technique, which provides the framework for the artists strong point of view concerning issues of colonial settlement, First Nations people, and gendered work. Like many ceramic artists who are primarily concerned with surface instead of form, such as fellow Maunsell Wicks artist Geoff Mitchell, or even the celebrated Stephen Bowers, it seems Emmerichs uses commercially available ceramic blanks as a starting point; the upside to this is consistency, especially with plates, with little to no warping which is common to the ceramic slab making process. This technique has allowed Emmerichs to work on quite large tiles, with complex compositions in many colours. In addition to these significant pieces, there are many smaller works that carry ideas, flowing freely across the body of work, like little pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that help give the viewer clues when viewed in its totality.

Finally, William Eicholtz is such a breath of fresh air for this exhibition. Eicholtz’s works celebrates the medium of ceramics, successfully playing with an exploration of glazes, textured surface, and dynamic forms. There is an element of nostalgia to the artists work, with the marine themes verging on generic bathroom decor kitsch, however, elevating the subject while speaking in this familiar visual language. Eicholtz’s artworks are clearly not from the Rococo period, but play in this asymmetrical world of serpentine splendour, with pearl, and oyster glaze finishes that should be wrong, but seem to work so well, almost inviting the viewer to fill his oversized shells with bath salts and design an opulent bathroom around them.

Ceramics 2022 is on at Maunsell Wicks Galley in Paddington, Sydney until August 28, 2022.

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sillyrabbit81 · 2 years

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Christmas Songs

Summary: Sometimes Sy feels inadequate and needs your reassurance.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 850

Warnings: Mild angst, implied PTSD, fluff, breastfeeding, implied smut, Dad!Sy, Husband!Sy

Authors note: This is for @winter2112rose 12 + 1 Days of Christmas Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate. 🙏

This series will be a set of short (approx. 500 word) drabbles. They will be mostly set in Australia and consist of vignettes of your and Sy’s Christmas’s together. The reader is Australian, but I am still aiming to be as inclusive of race, and size as possible.

Beta read by @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

12 + 1 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Day 7 Christmas Songs

For the last two years you have taken Tilly and Pippa to the Carols by Candlelight in the city. This year, with baby Mitchell being eight months old, you don’t think you can handle taking all three. Sy says you can leave Mitch with him and take the girls like you had been, but you see the look in his eyes, the look like he thinks he’s disappointing you.

You want to reassure him, tell him you don’t think less of him, but you also don’t want to draw attention to it. It’s unspoken in your relationship, not because you don’t want to talk about it, but because he doesn’t. If he didn’t manage to deal with his lingering trauma so well most of the time you would force the issue, but the way he copes with it works well and you don’t want to disturb that. Very large crowds and fireworks are too much for him, probably always will be, and it doesn’t affect your lives very often. If Sy was okay, you were okay, though, you sometimes wish you could do more for him.

So, this year you don’t go, you explain to Tilly and Pippa that Mitch is too little to go but you can watch it on tv. You make it exciting, putting out popcorn, lollies, and chips, and as a family you snuggle up the lounge together. The girls sing and dance and Sy pushes the coffee table out of the way to give them more room.

When it’s time to put them to bed, Sy takes them to their rooms and reads them a story before coming back to the lounge room where you’re giving Mitch his last feed. Sy smiles and runs a finger over Mitch’s soft cheek while he starts to doze, milk drunk and content.

“You really want him to be the last one?” Sy asks. “I never see ya smile like ya are now, ‘cept when you’re breastfeedin’.” You look at him, and his voice drops to a low whisper. “You’re so beautiful, Sugar.”

You smile, shyly, shaking your head. How can he still make you weak with just a few words after all this time? You’re coming up to ten years married and although the moments of pure lust are less frequent, they’re still there, you still want him as much as ever. He wraps his arm around your back and leans his chin on your shoulder. He’s been clingy all day, always wanting to be near you, have his hands on you, not like he usually does, there’s a different need behind his touch. You wonder if he’ll want to talk about it.

“Think the girls still enjoyed the Carols?” Sy asks. He tries to sound casual, like there’s no hidden meaning to his question but you can hear his doubt, his fear of being inadequate.

“You saw them, they loved it.” You bend your arm at your elbow and reach up to his face, letting your fingers sink into his beard. “They just want to be with you, Noah, they don’t care what they’re doing.”

Sy covers your hand with his, kisses your palm and holds it against his cheek again. You scratch softly at his beard, and he lets out a content sigh. It warms your heart that he’s always thinking of the kids, always wanting to do things with them, make things fun even when the dark parts of himself make it difficult.

Mitch finishes feeding, his breathing is strong and regular as he sleeps in your arms. You should put him to bed, but you’re comfortable, and Sy doesn’t seem like he wants to get up yet. You remember the Christmas in July celebrations he took you and the girls to last year and how he wanted to make sure you all had fun, that selfless part of Sy is just one of the things that you love about him. You remember the evenings you and he spent together that week, the long, hard, sweaty love making each night. Sometimes then going to bed and doing it all over again, rougher, and dirtier. You’re sure one of those nights resulted in Mitch, the timing had been right for certain.

You bite your lip and stifle a giggle. Sy hears it and lifts his head. “Whatcha thinkin’, Baby?”

“About when we made this little thing. Do you remember?”

Sy hums. “Makin’ love every night for a week in the snow by the fire. I ‘member that.” He kisses your neck his lips barely brushing your skin and leans into your ear. “I get all worked up, just thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Why don’t you stop thinking about it and take me to bed?” You look at him, his eyes are heated, but the softness he’s exuded all day is still there. His brows draw together and raise a little, he sucks on his bottom lip. Sy rests his hand on your neck, his thumb rubs your cheek, he expression serious as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, Sugar.” Sy says with a conviction and an earnestness that you rarely see in him.

“I love you too, Noah.”

#captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #captain sy #captain sy fanfiction #captain sy x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fic #syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fluff #syverson x you #syverson fic

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in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 3 years

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Below are some of my favorite love-related quotes, most of which make me think of Le Gris now.

I feel like writing some blurbs/concepts for him, so you can send me a quote (and any other idea you have along with it) and we can indulge in our mutual Le Gris appetites <3

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Pride And Prejudice by Jane Austen

“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

“I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”

Possession by A.S. Byatt

”We are asleep until we fall in love!”

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

“He sweeps her hair back from her ears; he swings her above his head. He says she is his émerveillement. He says he will never leave her, not in a million years.”

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

“We’ve loved each other so long I’ve never been a man and not loved her.”

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

“She is a mortal danger to all men. She is beautiful without knowing it, and possesses charms that she’s not even aware of. She is like a trap set by nature - a sweet perfumed rose in whose petals Cupid lurks in ambush! Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture. Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as my Lady when she strides through Paris!”

Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”

Prometheus Unbound by Percy Bysshe Shelley

“She was more than human to me. She was a Fairy, a Sylph, I don’t know what she was - anything that no one ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back; I was gone, headlong, before I had sense to say a word to her.”

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

“I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century, to repeat to you once again my vow of eternal fidelity and everlasting love.”

Love In The Time Of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez

“I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all.”

Love Language, Chasers of the Light by Tyler Knott Gregson

“The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.”

The God Of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

"Each time you happen to me all over again."

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

“You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me. But if you would return a favorable answer to my offer of myself in marriage, you could draw me to any good – every good – with equal force.”

Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”

Persuasion by Jane Austen

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.35}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"I'm going to die, am I not?" Robin sighed in a shallow voice before she could help it, while fear wrapped around her heart like a vine of devil's snare. "You wouldn't be sitting there like that if it was anything else."

Snape didn't reply, but his eyes found and followed Robin's as she toed off her shoes and then carefully maneuvered through the papers on the ground, hopefully without stepping onto any of them until she stood right before him. With a heavy weight in her chest that made it harder to breathe by the second, she looked down at him for a moment in silence, but it was only when she took his hand ever so gently that every bit of defeat and doubt faded from his features to leave only calm determination behind.

"I will not let you die, Robin. You know that." He finally spoke up in an overwhelming certainty that his eyes conveyed now as well. "No matter what these papers say, we will be fine."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, Robin gave him a nod and a half smile on instinct. If he seriously thought they were going to be alright, then they would be. Perhaps that had to be enough reassurance for now, enough for her to cling onto, enough to keep calm and deal with whatever was coming. With a sigh she finally sat down next to Snape in their small circle between the papers and took in all the different stacks of parchments spread around them. They were of various ages, in various stages of decay and with a multitude of different handwritings on them. Gods, where to start… perhaps, with the most obvious thing to do.

"Tell me about it." Robin merely said, calmly almost as if they were merely talking about a new kind of potion they were experimenting on, then looked up at Snape by her side. "What are we dealing with here?"

"A prophecy." He sighed in return. "An old prophecy that is, and I daresay those tend to be the very worst."

"Great."

"Perhaps you should read for yourself what it is about and how it came to be." Snape said, then frowned to himself for a moment while his eyes scanned the papers, before finally his features relaxed once more into calm factuality. "At least the most important parts of it all. The history around it up to the present day I might as well summarize for you afterwards."

"Have you actually read over all of these parchments already?! There are literally hundreds of them!"

"I read fast." He flatly defended himself against Robin's incredulous expression, but once she gave him a no-kidding look, he went on to elaborate. "But I also skimmed through a lot of it merely to be able to group it into categories. About half of these papers are mere copies of older texts that were only made to preserve the content and document the process thereof. The other half consists of about eighty percent personal accounts of those affected by the prophecy, and merely the remaining twenty percent are information abundantly necessary to understand the prophecy itself as well as its history. Those I have read entirely, yes."

"Wow…" Robin breathed, while her eyes drifted over the sea of paper in front of her. "It all sounds terribly complicated, if I'm honest."

"It will make more sense once you read for yourself." He replied almost reassuringly and handed her one of the smaller stacks of parchment, a mere ten pages, perhaps. "This is a late 19th century transcription of the first original text that was written in the early 14th century by the wizard who cursed your bloodline."

"What?!"

"Just read, will you?"

With a sound that started as a scoff but ended as a sigh, Robin let herself lean further into Snape's side before finally allowing her eyes to trail over the delicate handwriting as carefully as possible in the golden light of the fire. And boy, what she got to read right there she hadn't been expecting, not even anything close to it at all. It was a bloody mess, and not the least bit less messed up. But reading she did, and she started at the beginning.

It had all begun in the early fourteenth century, when an unfortunate man had fallen in love with an even more unfortunate woman. The man, a wizard born into one of the most reputational bloodlines at the time, namely into the family line of the Morgans. The woman, a witch herself, descendant of a rivaling family with no less power or influence than the former. The bloodline of the Bennetts. And as fate so often, so cruelly demands, the unfortunate man in line of the Morgans fell so deeply in love with the Bennett girl that before long, his love turned poisonous and into obsession. The young woman in return felt nothing but fear for the Morgan man, fear and even disgust perhaps, and she continued to condemn his countless advances, to flee from him whenever she could. Driven to madness by the girl's insistent rejection, the man set out to force her into marriage, to force her into loving him, but the Bennett girl would not be so easily subdued. Defying his will, she saw her last resort in fighting him as an equal, and he saw his last chance with her in fighting back. And fighting they did, to the bitter bloody end, to the very last draw. But as Morgan looked down at her on their moss covered battlefield, broken and shaking on the ground in her unwilling surrender, he saw that she would never relent. And if she would never come to love him, if she could never be his, then she ought to be no one else's either. He killed her in a frenzy of blind rage, a step further down on his descent into madness, and he only realized what he had done when it was by far too late.

Eaten up by grief and guilt, in unconsolable agony over what he had lost, he painted a portrait of his love, his eternal flame, to preserve her spirit for all the time to come. And yet he could never forgive himself for what he had done, could not live without the only thing that made his life worth living, could not live with the suffocating guilt.

Thus he took the painting, and the jewelry of his love; a locket which he had always adored, for it was a piece she had always worn with such intent adoration. He then had placed an intricate curse on the two objects, and on the two bloodlines of the Morgan and Bennett family in return. A curse that would make history repeat itself, generation for generation, until one day, the Bennett line would triumph over the Morgan one, and thereby give the original ancestors both their punishment and their redemption. The tragedy was to repeat until a Bennett girl would finally kill a Morgan man, or the two lines would be tied together for all the time to come. Having placed that curse, and having secured that the tokens of this prophecy would be found, the original Morgan had written down his sins and soughts, before finding his bloody end at his very own hands at long last. Cursed to suffer in death, until one day his distant heir would be defeated by the heir of his love.

Robin looked up from the papers with a deep frown, with lips parted in confusion and incredulity. "Is this some kind of joke I just don't understand?"

"I am afraid it is not."

"Well, either way, this can't have anything to do with me. I don't even know anyone by the name of Bennett! I mean sure, I have the locket, one locket, to be precise, and we don't even know if it's the one! This… All of this is just mental!"

"And yet in the light of the present ongoings, it would make perfect sense, wouldn't you say?" Snape's voice was surprisingly calm for the absurdity of the topic, and deep down Robin knew that this indeed was no joke, nor some goofy tragedy. This was perfectly real, and somehow, she was caught up right in the middle of it.

"I still don't understand why… or how… or… anything about this at all." She scoffed to herself, while her frown deepened to suppress the angry tears of helplessness. Fine, so someone in the fourteenth century had possibly cursed a locket she had in her possession, and a portrait Morgan had in his. So what?! She wasn't a Bennett, nor a Morgan for that matter. What on earth did she have to do with any of this?! Angrily, she ripped the locket off her neck in one abrupt yet considered movement, and the chain once again bit into her skin like a violent whip. But she didn't care, rather on the contrary, the pain posed an almost pleasant distraction from her mental state of utter torment. Without any remaining care, she tossed the necklace onto one of the paper stacks by the fireplace, then glared at it as if that would melt the piece of jewelry out of existence by the sheer furnace of her fury alone. But all it did was to make her eyes hurt, and to make them tear up even more as Robin failed to come to any other conclusion than the one laid out before her. She would have to accept the facts, if she liked them or not… but that didn't mean she had to understand them any more than this crooked tumble of words in her head allowed her to.

After a few long seconds at last, seconds she used to unsuccessfully sort through her own frenzied thoughts, she first felt the cool brush of Snape's fingertips on the soreness of her neck, then the soothing tingle of his magic on her skin as well as in her mind, and finally the welcoming softness of his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of her neck. Obviously he understood that no words in existence could better the chaos that had become of her mind right now, and in return those feathery kisses were all it took to break through the clouds of anger that surrounded her, like a beaconing ray of sunshine. Robin found herself sighing before she knew, and for a few silent minutes upon that, she merely enjoyed the comfort of his lingering embrace. She wasn't alone in this, and she didn't have to deal with it alone. Thus, the only question of relevance was how they usually dealt with these kinds of problems, and the only answer was the same as always: together. By taking on one piece of the puzzle at a time.

"So…" She finally started again, and turned her head just enough to look at Snape more comfortably now. If they would talk about this now, there was no place for stray emotions. If he could stay calm and rational, so could Robin. "Basically this means that ever since the fourteenth century, whenever a male descendant of the Morgan family lived at the same time as a female descendant of the Bennett family, the man slowly turned insane with love for the woman until matters ended in one final fight over life and death? And as of yet, the Morgan man has killed the Bennett girl every single time?"

"Yes, and no. It isn't as easy as that, unfortunately." Snape replied, but thankfully went right on to explain. "The cycle of repetition begins only and foremostly when the first of the two descendants comes into contact with the cursed item connected to their family line."

"You mean when the woman finds the locket, or the man finds the portrait?"

"Precisely. The curses placed on the objects ensure that both the witch and wizard will inevitably find their respective objects. Thus, when Morgan came across the portrait, you also had to find the locket not long after. Or the other way around."

"But I came across the locket all the way back in first year, entirely by chance! Does that mean I was the first to find my object? Assuming that I even am the person this prophecy speaks of, that is."

"Not necessarily. Curses as well as prophecies have a tendency to make everything seem like it happened by chance. In hindsight, you might as well have taken the first chance you got to acquire the locket. It was your first holiday outside of school, after all. The first opportunity to seek out your object by yourself after becoming aware of magic in the first place."

"That's just overly confusing, if you ask me."

"It is indeed confusing, and since there is no way to nor point in determining who came to their object first, it is luckily not entirely relevant for the matters at hand." He went on, to Robin's luck, with the more pressing matters. "Once both parties have found their items, the repetition of history as is dictated by the curse is inevitable. Which is what makes it inevitable for them to meet, and to hate each other from there on even without knowing of the whole history behind any of what is going on."

"But when the two people are doomed to hate each other until things escalate, where does the whole 'obsessive love' thing come into play?"

"From the accounts I yet went through, there seems to be an equal amount of love and hatred in both parties."

"I see. So basically, this whole thing can't be talking about me then." Robin concluded with a huff, and a shrug in useless defiance. "I just hate Morgan, and that only ever since he started being an arse. For the majority of my time at Hogwarts, I was almost indifferent to him, and even now I only hate and fear him because of what he's doing to me."

"That is indeed quite a peculiar fact we still need to consider." Snape mused, and yet again Robin found herself glad that he had already seen her every thought and emotion. He knew that what she said was true… she didn't harbour an ounce of affection for Morgan, and never had. They both knew that.

"As is the fact that I am not a Bennett. My parents are muggles, and I can almost guarantee you that I wasn't adopted." Robin added in to the argument, then found herself sighing once more. "Can we even be sure that I'm the woman in question? It seems so unlikely, especially since I could just have the locket in my possession by coincidence."

"You forget the perhaps most important piece of undeniable proof there is…" Snape gave her a meaningful look, as if he had only just now thought of it himself. "The portrait. It depicts the original Bennett ancestor, and-..."

"It depicts me." Robin finished the sentence in a quiet voice, and her shoulders slumped upon the final realization of what that truly meant. "So I really am the pendant to our very own lunatic Morgan ancestor, huh?"

"It seems so." Snape's voice was no louder than hers now, and he, too, looked quite as discontent with the facts as Robin felt on the inside. "I have no idea how or why that is possible in the first place, but seeing as it is the way it is, perhaps it would be wise to postpone this question in favour of more urgent ones."

"Right, yeah, you're right… We have the present and future to deal with, the past can wait. I just… have a difficult time thinking about the end of the story. If the curse and repetition, the whole bloody prophecy, is still in place today, does that mean that-..."

"Yes. Over the last five hundred years, the cursed descendants of the Morgan family have killed the cursed descendants of the Bennett family."

"Every single time… Don't forget to mention that." Robin breathed to herself, and yet the words sounded as strange and foreign as the idea was in itself. Twenty generations, and not once had her side won the fight. Not that she even felt like she had a side, no, it was rather the fact that this entire prophecy seemed like an ill-fitting garment that didn't belong to her that concerned Robin the most. It still felt like none of this had anything to do with her, even though it most obviously did.

"That is mere coincidence." Snape countered in a huff of defiance, much like the one Robin had displayed herself mere minutes ago, but it was his words indeed that made her snort now.

"Didn't you just say that there is no such thing as coincidence in prophecies?" She quirked an eyebrow up at him, and yet again couldn't help smiling at least a little. No matter how dim the situation, there was always a tease on either of their lips to make it better.

"I meant to say that there is absolutely no factor that predetermines the winning of the Morgan descendant over the Bennett one." He replied with a roll of his eyes upon her tease, but Robin could tell that he appreciated it as a shift of tone nonetheless. "If there was, the entire prophecy would be rather pointless."

"True."

"Thus, there is absolutely no reason to assume that you will suffer the same fate as did the others before you. In fact, you do have one advantage over Morgan that everyone who came before you did not."

"And that is?" Robin raised her eyebrows at him in question and curiosity alike, immediately catching onto the spark of hope that came with the prospect of an advantage indeed. Perhaps, not all was lost.

"Me."

______________________________

Tags:

@ayamenimthiriel @alex4555 @purpledragonturtles @istrugglewithphilosophy @meghan-maria @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @darkestacademiaaa @nizem8 @girilimoni @everythingisfineandalsosucks @marvelschriss @happyslittlekitten

General Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @kassablanca13 @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @lemonmochitea

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all-my-friends-were-glorious · 3 years

Text

FERRARI ANGELA MITCHELLS

The Small Time Actress

“Acting should be bigger than life. Scripts should be bigger than life. It should all be bigger than life.” - Bette Davis

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Ferrari Angela Mitchells

Nicknames: Ferri, Rari, Angel

Faceclaim: Ariana Grande

Age: 24

Gender: Cis Female

Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Polygamous

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 113lbs

Birthday: July 27th

Death Date: September 13th, 11:04pm

Resurrection Date: September 14th, 12:29am

Sign: Leo

Occupation: Small-Time Actress (Local Commercials); Dancer at the Peppermint Hippo

QUICK FACTS

Ferrari was killed by a man that didn’t like her telling him ‘no’. Mercedes found her behind the Hippo and, with the help of Infiniti and Porsche, took her to Michael. Michael, in turn, took her to Firkle, who revived her. She is now mostly human, but does require raw meat to live.

She is an excellent dancer and draws in quite a crowd at the hippo, though she doesn’t always like the male attention. While she isn’t a misandrist, she still would prefer they keep their hands to themselves.

She is quicker to type in shorthand, much like Porsche. Sometimes, even she isn’t aware of what she said after some time of not reading it.

Ferrari has a small crush on Mercedes but would never say it. She covers it up by being a bit of a bitch to her. Infiniti is aware and holding onto the information just in case she ever needs it.

Infiniti could have revived her, but hasn’t told the girls about her Priesthood with Satan. Thus, she had to act like she didn’t know anything when they took Ferrari to Michael and Firkle.

Ferrari went straight to hell and spent a little more than an hour there. In that time, she came to realize she really wasn’t so against it; Satan seemed alright enough to her, even if she was taken away by a couple of the torturers before getting to talk to him.

The torture in Hell made her a little tougher, a little quicker to fight, and she is seeking someone to teach her self defense.

If she doesn’t eat regularly, her body will be more easily broken, but it is harder for her to die. Firkle is capable of fixing anything that tries to fall off, and has been seeing more of her since their initial meeting.

Headcanons Masterlist

TAGS LIST

I’m Just Like Candy I Can Be Sweet (Ferrari Mitchells)

You Fall Under The Spell Of A Good Time Girl (Ferrari Musings)

No You Girls Never Know (Ferrari Aesthetic)

Fendi Fendi Prada (Ferrari Closet)

Don’t Have Too Much I’m No Good For You (Ferrari Headcanons)

I’ll Tell You When You Can Stop (Ferrari Journal Entries)

VERSES

TBD

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@southxparkxafterxdark - Michael - It’s Getting Colder I Often Wonder How Much Longer I Can Keep This Up (Ferrari and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Mike - Check The Body Before It Gets Cold (Ferrari and Mike - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Henrietta - Let Them In The Demons There’s No Stopping Them (Ferrari and Henrietta - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Kyle - Lips Are Blue And Black They Match Your Heart (Ferrari and Kyle - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark - Daniella - Flowers For A Ghost (Ferrari and Daniella - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@throughxthexmist - Kenny - My Soul Goes To The Highest Bidder (Ferrari and Kenny - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist - Jimmy - I Have No Soul But Money Talks (Ferrari and Jimmy - ThroughxThexMist)

@south-park-saints-and-sinners - Scott - Please Pull The Curtain (Ferrari and Scott - South-Park-Saints-And-Sinners)

SHIPS

TBD

#I’m Just Like Candy I Can Be Sweet (Ferrari Mitchells)#You Fall Under The Spell Of A Good Time Girl (Ferrari Musings)#No You Girls Never Know (Ferrari Aesthetic)#Fendi Fendi Prada (Ferrari Closet)#Don’t Have Too Much I’m No Good For You (Ferrari Headcanons)#I’ll Tell You When You Can Stop (Ferrari Journal Entries)#It’s Getting Colder I Often Wonder How Much Longer I Can Keep This Up (Ferrari and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)#Check The Body Before It Gets Cold (Ferrari and Mike - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)#Let Them In The Demons There’s No Stopping Them (Ferrari and Henrietta - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)#Lips Are Blue And Black They Match Your Heart (Ferrari and Kyle - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)#My Soul Goes To The Highest Bidder (Ferrari and Kenny - ThroughxThexMist)#I Have No Soul But Money Talks (Ferrari and Jimmy - ThroughxThexMist)#Please Pull The Curtain (Ferrari and Scott - South-Park-Saints-And-Sinners)#Flowers For A Ghost (Ferrari and Daniella - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)#cw death #cw witchcraft #cw necromancy

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argumentl · 3 years

Text

The Freedom of Expression Ep 21 - Gone with the Wind's relation to BLM.

K: Ok, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, starting this episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san. Welcome. Well, um..you know, Dir en grey...we've cancelled our Pia Arena concerts.

J: Ahh, thats right.

K: Its a bit...

T: Its a shame.

K: Well..it is a shame..it was kind of a build up of different things. We did search for ways which we could make it happen. We went to the venue in person, and tried to come up with ideas about how it could work, incuding our staff in the discussion, but...in the end it was quite difficult.

J: Ahh, really?

K: I had thought if we started to be a bit active things might begin to change. I really wanted to get moving, but...well..there would be people who wouldn't be able to go...

J: Well, yes.

K: So when we thought about whether we should do it...hmm..yeh.

J: Well, we want to let everyone know that you went as far as going to the venue to try to figure out what to do, and it does not mean that the band will disappear..

K: Yes

J: And in this sense, its a matter of waiting for the right time.

K: Yeah.

J: Right?

K: When will that be though, right?

J: Ah, well, the number of infections in Tokyo is in a state of increase at the moment, in particular, the night time entertainment sector is being blamed, so it seems as if live houses, or so called places of entertainment may be facing tough times for a little while yet.

K: Well, the numbers...if you decreased the number of customers..there are some places starting to operate again in that way, right?

J: There are, yes.

K: But packed standing areas are probably still a bit far off.

J: Yeah. When I think of a Dir en grey live show...I think of Shinkiba etc, I mean, thats what comes up in my mind. One way to see that type of place is like the three C's woven together (Cramped and poorly ventilated, crowded with people, close contact setting).

K: Yeh.

J: So it is really painful not being able to do that. But while it may take a while until we can, in the meantime we can find different ways or hybrid ways of doing it.

K: Yeah, we have to keep looking in a foward direction. Well...but on the days that we ought to have been performing, the 24th and 25th of this month, we are planning to stream the intended setlist live on Youtube, so if people can, I'd love them to watch that.

Kami: Um....um...

J: Ah, Kami is here.

Kami: Have you considered playing live wearing face guards or something?

K, J: Face guards?

K: No, we didn't consider that, hahaha

J, T, K: Hahaha

J: This wouldn't fit with Dir en grey.

K: No, we actually talked about it, jokingly. Like how about it?

*laughing*

J: No, if you actually did, it would be like you were making fun of it or something like that. Hahaha.

Kami: Have you thought about ventilating the venue during the show or something?

K: Hmm, yeh, we'd have to make an interval in the middle and doing something like that.

T: I see

J: Well, its difficult isn't it? You'd have to deal with a lot of things. But just like you want to do it, people want to see it too, we are all the same.

Kami: Watching a Dir en grey show with interval breaks would be quite hard, right?

K: Hm, yeah it would probably break the tension.

T: Yeah.

K: Kinda.

Kami: What do you think about doing that?

K: Doing that...well..

Kami: Raising the tension, they saying Ok, ventilation time!

K: We'd have to make it kinda like smoothly seperated waves.

J: Like leading into something when there is a break?

K: Leading into something. For example, like something sanwiched between the different sections, like showing a piece of film or something.

J: Ahh, its difficult! The people making the rules, have probably never been to live cocerts, because they don't imagine this type of thing at all. We'll have to think about all these small details at the time of performing from now on.

K: Ok, well, today...Joe san, can you please go ahead.

J: Ok, I'd like to go ahead with today's news. This is the news of how Gone with the Wind relates to the Black Lives Matter movement.

With the ongoing anti-racism Black Lives Matter movement, the expanding movement fighting for the lives of black people to be valued, the American streaming service HBO Max who halted the broadcasting of the Hollywood movie Gone with the Wind, have decided to start streaming the movie again, this time with a disclaimer attached....I'm sure you all know it...a movie which is set during the era of the American civil war, in which the system of slavery existed. This was announced by the American entertainment site TMZ. The same service had stopped streaming the movie earlier this month, after Oscar winning screen writer, John Ridley had pointed out that it includes affirmative portrayals of the system of slavery. Ridley won an Oscar for his work on the movie 12 Years A Slave, which depicts the experiences of slaves who were brought to America during the 19th century. According to TMZ, Jaqueline Stewart, a professor know for her research into the history of black people in cinema, has prepared a video containg some historical background to accompany the movie, in which she asks why we need to appreciate this 1939 movie in its original form, and says how it is important to discuss our interpretations of it. Furthermore, a video of a panel discussion about this movie which took place in April last year will also be shown at the same time. Gone with the Wind is a movie based on the story by Margret Mitchell, featuring top star of the time, Clark Gable, and English actress, Vivian Leigh.

Soo, Gone with the Wind...the news that streaming was stopped once, but has been restarted with a disclaimer attached. What do you think about this, Kaoru?

K: This type of stuff has been said for a long time, right?

J: Yes.

K: And there are a lot of movies like this aren't there?

J: There are. When looking back now, some parts seem problematic. Well, even so, its a difficult issue, but I don't really think there was any need to halt streaming it in the first place. When watching a movie with such a background as this, people will have various feelings about it, so I don't really...but of course including these extras..the American Black Lives Matter movement has grown huge in a way no one imagined, so in order to prevent adding fuel to the fire, these extra videos are being screened too. But, in the first place, I think its important for people to watch works like this, and think about it for themselves. If you are always telling people how it should be, the nuance or message contained in these movies might be lost. Its quite difficult.

T: Well, if it is lost, we'll end up forgetting how that generation used to see the world.

J: Yeah

K: But we won't lose it, right? Just from this..???1* So, well..it was a problem which couldn't be stopped at that time, it was a growing problem. You can sense that meaning, but its like, how you put it across.

J: Yeh, thats right. Well, this isn't about this movie, but for example, as for books, the publication of Hitler's Mein Kampf was halted for 70 years after the war in Germany. There was the idea that it would be bad to let people read Hilter's autobiography, after what he did. But a few years ago it started to be permitted to be published again, based on the idea that banning it also isn't a good idea. And people do actually want to read it, it is selling. So what do you do? Its a very difficult issue. If the works are by people who have done very bad things, like, a if they are written by a very bad person, should we ban it....Like some of Dir en grey's videos are also quite...when you majored, weren't some of them withdrawn or denied release?

K: With that ????2*

J: Ahh, I see. Some bits were ok, and some weren't? Well, with corona changing the world now, this problem will...

K: Well, this type of thing has an influence on a lot of stuff.

J: It does, yes.

K: Like Japanese anime.

T: Also, people are questioning this idea of 'whitening' beauty products.

J, K: Ahh, yeah.

T: That type of thing has come out recently. But even if you say 'whitening' in the context of beauty, what does it mean? Does it mean, white people are beautiful, or does it mean your skin is ???*3 That has become a talking point.

K: Now that you mention it, you are not allowed to tell someone they're short are you?

J: Right.

K: The same for if they are tall, right.

J: Yeah, if you worry too much, you'll end up trying to censor words. Especially with younger people, like sometimes you have to express things in abbreviated forms, and if they jump on this and say, 'you can't say that!', then the amount of expressions we have will shrink. Well, it is difficult.

K: Well, I mean there are lots of ???*4 with that type of person.

J: Well, its difficult to know where to draw the line with this type of thing. But with regards to Black Lives Matter, it doesn't appear to have a lot to do with this country, but Black Lives Matter has been closed in on the event where a policeman kneeled on the neck of a black man and killed him. However, if you look at the broader scene, one of the policemen standing by and watching is thought to be a man of Asian descent. And the store that reported the black man who died was run by middle eastern descended people, so its certainly not an issue unrelated to Asia. Its often said that its an issue of only whites against blacks, but actually there are clearly people of Asian descent involved in this situation. On a global scale, there are a lot of issues which you cant simply separate into white against black. So i think we should get our imaginations working a bit more, and think about all the parties involved. It might be a bit hard to imagine living in this country, but we need to realise these are not just other peoples' affairs.

T: Its really imoprtant to try to imagine yourself in someone else's situation, isn't it?

J: I think it is really important. ...Kami?

Kami: Yes yes yes. Were you talking about Gone with the Wind?

J: Ah, you want to return to the topic of Gone with the Wind?

Kami: No, I just thought this was about Gone with the Wind. I have no interest in the movie Gone with the Wind, just the title puts me off. I wasn't really listening this time.

K: He hates this type of movie, right?

J: Yes, he hates it, haha. You don't like this type of thing much?

K: What type of movies do you like?

Kami: Anything, even banned movies.

T: Kami sometimes...

J: He's like Chabudai gaeshi!

T: He appears at times like this.

K: Well, Kami probably likes action movies or that type of thing.

J: Oh you like that type of thing? You don't care if streaming of Gone with the Wind is stopped?

Kami: Yeh, if a big fuss is made when its stopped, then people will wonder what its all about and try to watch it won't they?

T: Ahh, I see.

J: Ah, on the other hand, yeh.

Kami: I won't watch it though.

K: He's really pressing that point. He won't let us forget.

J: Ahh, so thats that. It doesn't meet Kami's expectations.

K: Okay, well, lets end here. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

J, T: Thank you.

*1, 2, 3, 4 Couldn't figure out these bits.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #tfoe #kaoru #薫

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

wish i could pretend i didn't need you (2/?)

Summary: Beca Mitchell is born into a life of organized crime, directionless and despondent. Then she meets Chloe Beale.

Chapter Summary: One week later, Beca and Chloe go on their "first" date.

Word Count: 3,564

Chapter title from "What Am I" by Why Don't We.

Read below. AO3 Link under the cut.

“Beca, piano is about precision, of course. But also...a delicate touch. Precision and gentleness all at once. Watch.”

Beca watches carefully, eyes trained on the keys her mother presses. Very intently, she tracks each motion, making sure to memorize the melody.

“Understand?” her mother asks, lifting a hand to sweep a strand of Beca’s hair behind her ear.

Beca furrows her brow in concentration before she places her hands on the keys and mimics exactly what her mother had down, copying the melody precisely. When she finishes, she beams up at her mother who smiles at her with pride and a little bit of another, then-unidentifiable emotion.

* * * * *

Beca glances at her phone for the tenth time since she reached the corner of the block she had agreed to meet Chloe at.

Radio silence from her father. He must be in a good mood. Better for Beca if he is. She has been riding a wave of being nervous over her first date with Chloe. Chloe Beale, a twenty-seven year-old vet with a heart of gold and a devastating smile.

The whole date thing—that pretty much came out of nowhere, smashing into Beca with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. Any ensuing breathlessness, however, turned out to be breathless excitement and anticipation. She wasn’t...opposed to going on a date. She wasn’t opposed to seeing Chloe again, despite telling herself that she was just attracted to Chloe on a physical level and only that.

After that first night—that first morning—they had exchanged numbers, content on simply staying in touch—at least Beca is sure that was how she had phrased it. She had caught the lingering dash of disappointment on Chloe’s face as she had slowly slid from the bed. Whatever had caused her to partake in her next actions, well she totally blamed her lingering hangover (nonexistent hangover), but she had kissed Chloe again.

It was just...that time of year, she told herself. Continues to tell herself.

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself, now absentmindedly tapping through her phone. Her last text from Chloe—a cheerful On my way!—stares innocently back at her. Is she dating this woman now? Are they girlfriends? Is there—should Beca have brought flowers?

Huge oversights everywhere. Red flags everywhere. Beca runs through all the possible options in her mind, thoughts of her father so far out of her mind.

Ultimately, worst case scenario: Beca had, quite simply put, been unable to resist Chloe Beale that night and she had found that she needed the company more than anything. She rarely found connections with other people, let alone strangers. It was something ingrained in her from the beginning—something that had been impressed upon her as a child, then as a teenager, and continuously as an adult.

Don’t become attached.

“I hope I’m not late.”

Beca startles, quickly putting her phone away as she turns to greet Chloe. She stops—freezes—and for once, finds her mind going blank. No thoughts about her calendar. No thoughts about missed phone calls. No thoughts about missed shipments. No thoughts about her father, obligations, or meetings.

Just one thought: “Chloe, hi. Wow. Hi.”

Chloe’s hair, carefully curled and flowing over her shoulders, ruffles in the wind. She is wearing a denim jacket over a black shirt and black jeans which Beca can tell hug her hips and thighs beautifully. Somehow, despite the simplicity, Beca feels underdressed in her own nice sweater and jeans.

“That’s a good wow, right?” Chloe’s voice holds a teasing lilt to it, like she knows exactly why Beca is so flustered. She probably does, Beca muses. Beca wonders if they can kiss—wonders why she has all kinds of knowledge about various weapons, business transactions, and how to get the deal she wants, but none—well, hardly any knowledge—about how to handle a normal first date with a beautiful woman.

She goes with the first thing on her mind.

“You’re…” Beca swallows, eyes tracking down Chloe’s body. “You’re beautiful.”

“I…” Chloe blushes, shy for once under Beca’s gaze. “Thank you.” Beca holds her breath, wondering if Chloe will kiss her; wondering if that would be odd. Chloe smiles, leaning in to press a kiss against her lips, allowing a brief moment of indulgence when Beca’s tongue sweeps across her lower lip, almost politely. It makes Chloe giggle, causing her to draw back to Beca’s disappointment.

“What?” Beca asks. She licks her lips unconsciously, taking a step back. It is so different seeing Chloe like this in the drifting sunset and on a public walkway, without the shadow of night and alcohol, all tangled up in their bedsheets. “Did I do something?”

“Nothing,” Chloe promises, reaching out to gently tuck a curl behind Beca’s ear. “You’re just a lot more shy today, considering what we did last week.”

Beca laughs, a breathless sound, tilting her body slightly so she can face away from Chloe just enough to hide the blush rising on her face. She can hardly compartmentalize the sensation that flows through her then. The ease she feels with this interaction—Chloe is hardly somebody she would consider a confidante. More likely to be a liability if anything. A danger to herself if she were to ever get too wrapped up in Beca’s life.

The thought makes Beca swallow. Too much thinking about the future. Too much thinking about a guaranteed future with a woman she slept with once.

A woman with whom she is about to embark on a date.

A first date with somebody who has no idea who she is.

“Beca?” Chloe’s voice comes back into Beca’s depth. “If that is your name. Beca Mitchell,” she drawls.

“Sorry, what?” Beca asks quickly.

“Nothing you just…got all quiet and shy. I was just kidding.” Chloe beams at her, holding out a hand. “Want to get going then?”

“Oh, um.” Beca smiles, reaching out to hold Chloe’s hand, resisting the urge to shiver at how warm and soft Chloe’s hand feels in her own. “Let’s. And yes, my name is Beca, you weirdo.”

“Are you okay with going to Victor’s?”

Beca blinks in surprise at the mention of one of the restaurants where her family frequently conducts business. “Oh, um—”

“I just heard it had good reviews, and it’s close.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been there. It’s fine.” Beca doesn’t think much of it. She hasn’t been there often enough and never really for business in a high profile sense. She’s sure it’ll be a relatively easy-to-handle situation.

She’s on a date. She knows she isn’t working. She knows that her father knows that. But still, she misses what Chloe says in response, too focused on the logistics that have momentarily flooded her mind.

“Hey,” Chloe says quietly, stopping them in their tracks. She tugs on Beca’s hand expectantly. Beca swallows, looking up into Chloe’s eyes as Chloe is seemingly unaware of the people having to walk around them on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. “I’m glad I get to see you again.”

Beca finds that she has only the urge to tell Chloe the truth—to be honest and open with this woman. It is different. Refreshing. “Me too,” she replies, smiling again when Chloe leans in to kiss her again, soft lips tender and gentle against her own.

* * * * *

Beca finds that she loves talking to Chloe—loves her company and her presence. That first morning together had been more of the same humorous banter. They had kind of gotten to know each other, but mostly Beca had basked in the comfort of Chloe’s presence and her touch.

(And more of some of the same activities that had brought them into Chloe’s bed in the first place, but that was just a bonus, Beca told herself.)

Tonight, however, is something more. Beca feels it. It had been what she had anticipated, with no small measure of nerves, when she had accepted Chloe’s text asking her on a date only a few days after they had gone their separate ways.

Tonight, together, they sit in the quiet corner of the restaurant, staying for hours until the lights dim and they realize that they’ve stayed until closing. Chloe turns to meet Beca’s bewildered expression and they both burst into quiet giggles as they quickly gather their belongings.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Chloe comments. “Staying until a restaurant has closed.” She flutters her eyelashes at Beca. “You’re a good date.”

Beca smiles, taking a moment to make sure her phone is in her pocket. As she does so, she notices one of the wait staff gesturing for her to go into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back. Just going to the bathroom.” She pecks Chloe on the cheek, quickly making her way to the back of the restaurant. When she’s sure that Chloe isn’t looking, she ducks into the kitchen, brow already furrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. “This better be good,” she points out, clearly displeased.

The maître-d cowers under Beca’s gaze for a few seconds before she grows bored and turns her attention to the restaurant owner who, to his credit, walks right up to her without a care in the world. “Miss Mitchell—”

Beca’s jaw clenches. “Beca.”

He smirks at her. Her fingers twitch against her thigh, wishing more than anything she had something more than a switchblade on her. “Miss Mitchell, so kind of you to stop by our restaurant tonight.”

“I’m kind of busy, so if you could…” she motions with her finger. “Hurry up a little, that would be great.”

“Is that any way to talk to somebody who extended restaurant hours for you and your…” his eyes cut to the door with a knowing glint. “Your friend.”

“I’m not working tonight,” Beca says lowly in lieu of responding to the obvious bait. “What do you want?”

“Seems your associates left something behind the last time they passed through here. And shortchanged us on some money. When we agreed to help you, it was simply that—to pass through.” He lifts a small package, carefully wrapped and tied in string. “We can’t have things like this here.”

Beca smirks. “Are you sure that wasn’t just one of your employees taking a little something for themselves?”

He presses the package into Beca’s arms before stepping back. “Send your father my regards—or maybe I can call him to let him know I saw you tonight?”

Beca swallows back the immediate rage she had felt when the package pressed into her arms roughly. She quickly tucks it into the waistband of her jeans, finding no pockets in her chosen sweater for the evening. Already, she feels the tension in her chest about to snap—a combination of anxiety and frustration with yet another business mishap. A business dealing that she can’t even address properly because Chloe is sitting alone at their table in an empty restaurant, simply waiting for Beca to return from the bathroom. Definitely not thinking about the package of questionable substances (drugs, Beca assumes dryly) tucked into her date’s jeans.

“I’m sure your friend will understand if you…end the evening early. But we would be happy to help you find an escort to get her home.”

Beca’s heart races. She meets his gaze defiantly. A litany of words threatens to escape, nothing particularly appealing or fitting for the current situation. She steadies herself mentally, attempting to plaster a neutral expression on her face. She goes for calculated reasoning and an even tone, hedging a bet as to what exactly happened to have caused a mix-up at this level. “Next time,” she says, keeping her voice low. “If you ever try to steal from us again, at least make the effort to own up to it instead of chickening out. Trying to save your own ass like this?” She shrugs, making her way back to the kitchen entrance. “Not a good look,” she finishes, without looking back.

The short walk back to Chloe feels like a lifetime, but Beca makes it. She releases a breath she hadn’t known she was holding the moment Chloe turns to face her. Chloe, who is blessedly alone, stands and her eyes flash with concern. “I was about to go find you. Thought you slipped out the back or something.”

There is levity in Chloe’s voice, but Beca senses the underlying hesitation. The uncertainty. That same uncertainty is reflective of the sheer newness of...whatever this is and already Beca feels like she has done enough damage for one evening. For as big as Los Angeles is, she has come to know, through experience, that there is rarely anywhere to hide. “Sorry, just had some business to take care of,” she apologizes, offering a sheepish shrug to mask the momentary guilt and dread that had crept through her.

Chloe grins. “I mean. I didn’t ask. But thank you.”

Beca blushes even though she had totally said that with the intent of diverting Chloe’s attention while also going for some honesty, though she’s sure Chloe doesn’t need to know about what happened in the kitchen. She doesn’t need Chloe to know about any of that.

“Shall we?” Beca asks, opting to change the subject instead.

“Okay,” Chloe agrees. She stands, reaching for Beca’s hand. The gesture and all its casual intimacy makes Beca swallow. She doesn’t dare look back to see if anybody is watching; she doesn’t dare look back to check if any unsavory eyes are focused on their actions. She is suddenly so aware of how empty the restaurant is, how they really are the only ones there. She just had become so distracted and enamored by her conversation with Chloe—the way her eyes had sparkled so beautifully under the gentle restaurant lighting.

Still, with Chloe’s hand in her own, Beca finds that she manages to remain stoic, ramrod straight back and all. Together, they leave the restaurant, Beca’s heart somewhere in her throat all the while.

“I...don’t want this night to end,” Chloe admits as they walk down the quiet street. Beca shifts her gaze from assessing the parked cars along the street to meet Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t either,” Beca admits.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Didn’t you kiss me already?” Beca asks quickly with a twitch of her lips. Before she can even form a full smirk, Chloe’s hand comes up to cup the back of her head delicately and her lips descend on Beca’s. Softly, she kisses Beca, both of their eyes slipping shut at the sensation. Beca sighs quietly, reaching up to grip Chloe’s shoulders as she tilts her head to fully sink into the kiss. She tries to memorize the way Chloe kisses her. It is a mix of desire, tenderness, and newness all at once. There is nothing to memorize however, not quite yet, as Chloe’s technique shifts and changes seamlessly with each moment.

“Come back with me,” Chloe requests, pressing her fingertips more firmly against the back of Beca’s head. “Please,” she whispers, breath ghosting against Beca’s jaw. Beca whimpers quietly, lifting her chin to catch Chloe in another kiss, both of them sinking into the sensation. Beca feels her back hit the brick exterior of the nearby storefront. Chloe presses closer still, sliding a hand around Beca’s waist to hold her close. The action incites Beca’s back into arching so she presses more solidly against Chloe’s front, enjoying the sensation of their bodies slowly beginning to meld together so naturally. Beca reaches up to hold Chloe’s face, losing herself momentarily.

She is abruptly brought back to reality when she shifts her stance to nudge her leg between Chloe’s and the rough texture of the package still tucked into her jeans rubs harshly against her belly. She gasps, pushing Chloe back slightly, placing her hands against the collar of her jacket.

“Sorry,” Chloe says quickly, looking rather contrite. “I’m sorry, I just—I haven’t stopped thinking about—”

“No, no, um. Me too. It’s…” Beca gently nudges Chloe back further as she steps away from the wall. “It’s...I have to be somewhere tonight. See my dad.”

Chloe’s lips—already pink and swollen, sending a flash of desire through Beca’s body—curve downwards, but she nods in understanding. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again. “I just thought…”

“No, I just...yeah. He called earlier and I should…” Beca blows out a breath, running her fingers through her hair. “I should...go. See him, I mean.”

Chloe smiles reassuringly, both of them relaxing as Chloe takes one of Beca’s hands off her jacket. She presses a slow kiss to Beca’s knuckles, sending a shiver down Beca’s spine. “It’s okay. I’m not really a...put-out-on-the-first-date kind of person anyway.”

That breaks the rest of the tension that had been lingering in Beca’s body and she has half a mind to say fuck it to her father (not a new feeling) and all of this bullshit and just go home with Chloe. She laughs, pulling Chloe boldly in for another kiss, but stopping before they can go any further. “Well. I mean, something tells me that’s a lie.”

Chloe scoffs. “Please. That wasn’t a date. You were just a hot girl I met at a bar.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “And now?” she asks, a twinge of curiosity seeping its way into her tone before she can help it.

“One of the best first dates I’ve been out with,” Chloe murmurs. “And I want to see you again.” Her eyes seem to shine even more than Beca had previously thought possible. “If that’s okay with you.”

Beca finds herself smiling—a smile that very nearly stretches her face uncomfortably because she cannot recall ever smiling that widely. At least not in recent memory. “That is...super okay with me.”

“Super okay,” Chloe echoes with a playful smile. The sight makes Beca’s stomach swoop, but at the same time, she is only reminded of the pressure against her belly from both the anxiety and weight (figurative and literal) of the package. “By the way?” Chloe chirps. “I would totally break that first date rule. Just saying. If we just forget all that bar nonsense.”

Beca groans. “Shut up,” she murmurs, though she does not mean it. She wouldn’t mind hearing Chloe laugh for the rest of the night, but she knows she cannot.

* * * * *

Beca’s good mood dissipates fairly quickly as she punches in the number to her father’s gated house. She trudges up the path, ignoring the greetings and acknowledgements from the guards she passes along the way.

By the time she reaches her father’s study, passing all the ornate decorative pieces lining the hallways along the way, she is clutching the nondescript package in her clenched fist. Without knocking, she pushes through the doors.

He barely glances up from his book. “Beca. What’d I say about knocking?”

“I forgot,” she says breezily. She tosses the package on the desk in front of him. “This is yours, I believe?”

He sighs, taking his time to earmark his book before he removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Such manners,” he mutters. He peers at the package, reaching out to turn it over delicately, noting the small writings along its edge. “Didn’t know I asked you to go to Victor’s today.”

“I was…” Beca pauses, choosing her words carefully. “I was just having dinner there. They recognized me.”

“Oh? Having dinner by yourself? How was the food?”

“Fine,” Beca murmurs quickly, avoiding the first question deftly. “I didn’t have to bring this back, you know? You need to pick better fronts,” she points out, daring to show defiance for just a few seconds. She’s kind of banking on her father still being in a good mood.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“No,” Beca responds quietly. Obediently. “It was just unexpected.”

“The price to pay when everybody wants a slice of the pie and we’re only just too willing to accommodate.”

Beca grimaces. She hates this aspect of their relationship. Whenever her father attempts to impress upon her the nobility of what they do. Or the respect they command. It makes her nauseous and ill to even entertain the thought of doing this for the rest of her life. She cannot envision it — not for herself and not for anybody she happens to be friends with.

Not that she has many friends. Less friends means less stakes in the long run.

“Anyway, that was all.”

“You should stay the night. I’ll have Beatrice make you up some breakfast tomorrow. It’s late anyway.” His eyes flash up at her. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

Beca schools her expression carefully as her mind quickly fills with images of fingertips trailing up her arm, down her side, across her tattoos. Delicate sighs. Desperate kisses.

Kind, bright blue eyes and a trusting expression.

“No,” she murmurs. “Nowhere.”

* * * * *

“Was that okay?” Beca asks expectantly, searching her mother’s eyes for positive reassurance. “I got all the notes right.”

Her mother’s lips twitch though they still rest in a gentle smile. “My dear,” she says gently. “It’s not about just getting the notes right. Your hands and your heart need to be in concert with each other.”

Beca’s brow furrows, a pout gracing her lips. “In concert?” she echoes.

Slowly, her mother takes Beca’s wrists and places her hands back on the piano. “Try again, but play from the heart. Nothing beautiful ever comes from following the rules.”

fin chapter 2 | AO3

#pitch perfect #fanfiction #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mafia au #my fanfic #mine #text

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

You're Back!

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: vague mentions of death

Context: This is supposed to be a kind of crossover between Top Gun and The Lost Boys (because they are my favourite films) but it is only minorly so. The reader is a naval fighter pilot who is good friends with the boys and spends most of her free time in Santa Carla with them.

A/N: This hasn't turned out too well, because I'm ridiculously sleep deprived tired, so I will revisit it at some point, whether to rewrite it completely or to add to it, I'm not sure, but I will improve it. For now, I hope this is acceptable.💛😊

**contains some spoilers for Top Gun, but only vague ones**

Masterlist

I roll my eyes as yet another person stares at me as they pass, keeping eye contact with them until they stop looking, turning their gaze away awkwardly, carrying on with their night without watching me for the entirety of it. By now, I've had to sit through about a score of curious people in the last two hours, my tolerance for them quickly wearing thin as they continue to eye the uniformed stranger leaning against a motorcycle. Chewing on my lip, a habit I've never managed to kick, I carefully roll up the sleeves of my military uniform shirt, careful not to crease it too much, even though I will likely iron it before I wear it again, the hard-learnt instincts reminding me to stay smart and neat, even if I'm currently not in the presence of any commanders I need to report to.

In the stifling heat, my shirt sticks to my skin a bit, sweat coating my brow as I watch the crowd, my hair starting to become less styled and more dishevelled with each passing minute, the journey from the aircraft carrier I was deployed at to the airport in Miramar, followed by the gruelling motorcycle ride down to Santa Carla having that effect in me. I didn't have time to stop off anywhere on the way to get changed into my own clothes, seeing as I wanted to get to the little seaside town before sundown, choosing instead to stay in my uncomfortable uniform, knowing it may well curry me some favours here and there along the way - bartenders are only too happy to serve a member of the naval air force, especially a Top Gun graduate. Absentmindedly I feel my lips quirk up into a smile, recalling the time my friend, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, used this fact to his advantage when in Miramar, charming a poor waitress into giving us all free food and drinks, though I'm pretty sure he promised her something in return, something which kept him out of the bunk rooms that night. Ironically, he never used that trick again.

Shaking my head, I cast my gaze over the crowd again, searching for a particular group of people, a sense of excitement rising in me when I hear the tell tale sound of their motorcycles cutting through the horde of people, my eyes swiftly finding the approaching people as they park their vehicles a little way away from me. Making a split second decision, I choose to stay by my own bike, waiting for them to either notice me, or walk past, a small smirk plastered across my lips, my eyes fixed on them: David, Dwayne, Paul and Marko.

Eventually, they push off their bikes and start making their way through the crowd, having missed my presence completely, the four of them easily moving amongst the people lining the Boardwalk, most sane locals knowing the group's notorious reputation. David and Dwayne walk ahead of Paul and Marko, who are pushing and shoving each other around, giggling and laughing to themselves as a band of girls squeals when the smaller of the two is thrown straight into their midst, drawing some attention from the people around them, though they have yet to notice me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I just watch as they move together, eyeing them as they come into range before looking around for something, quickly finding a discarded newspaper on the wall behind my motorbike. Smirking wider, I take it and tear off three pages, screwing them into a tight ball, my gaze returning to the approaching bikers, guaging the distance between me and them, knowing I have a very good aim, having practiced it a lot before and during training. Winding back my arm, I take aim and throw the ball, giving it some force so that the intended target will manage to feel it under his mess of hair, trying mg hardest to contain my laughter when the projectile connects with the back of his head.

Paul instantly looks around, irritation and confusion rife in his face as he searches the crowd for his assailant, still missing me, even as I throw another ball of paper, though this one is aimed for Marko, who also receives it as a blow to the back of the head. Disgruntled, the two vampires stop, looking around for the source, drawing David and Dwayne's attention as they realise their friends are no longer following them. Biting my lip, I throw another two, hitting both of the quieter boys square in the back, trying my hardest to hold back my laughter, though I am unsuccessful as they continue to search around, heads whipping to and fro as they try to work out where I am, the crowd of people around them starting to leave a berth around them, leaving their view of me unblocked and clear. Finally, I decide to put them put of their misery.

"Damn, I thought you guys were observant." I call out to them, tossing another ball of newspaper from hand to hand to show who the culprit was. Surprised, and somewhat shocked, the four of them spin around, their faces lighting up when they catch sight of me, Paul and Marko instantly racing over and engulfing me in a tight hug.

"(Y/n)! You're back!" The latter exclaims happily, pulling away briefly to look me in the eye before he buries his face into my clothes again.

"I am. It's good to see you all!" I respond, laughing as I wrap my arms around them, glad to finally get to see them again after so long. Over their heads, Dwayne and David shoot me equally glad smiles, the former ready to step in once the other two have released me.

"Not nearly as good as it is to see you again! I hate it when you leave!" Paul mumbles into my shirt, Marko agreeing with him as they continue to crush me.

"I hate leaving, too, but I always come back." I remind them, patting them on the back so that they'll release me, smiling at both of them as they grudgingly step away, allowing Dwayne to step in and pull me into a softer embrace, his long arms pressing me into his bare chest, his face burying itself into my hairline. Happily, I wrap my own arms around his waist, enjoying the sensation of his cool skin against my heated body, jealous of his pleasant temperature.

After a few minutes, I pull away again, looking to David, who just smiles (genuinely for once) at me, his intimidating reputation preventing him from showing any affection in public, though he isn't really one for hugs in private, either. Or, at least not with me. Instead, he gives my body a once over with his icy blue eyes, the gesture drawing a blush to my cheeks, especially when I feel the others do the same, some more discreetly than others - unfortunately, I'd managed to develop a crush on all four of them, so the idea of them blatantly checking me out is not one I dismiss too easily.

"It's good to see you again, (Y/n)." He greets, chuckling as he watches Marko and Paul fight over who gets to put their arm around my waist, only for the both of them to whine when Dwayne beats them to it, the taller brunette pulling me into his side with an intimacy he's never had before.

"Yeah, it's good to be back." I agree, smiling at them all, "What're we gonna do tonight? I have three weeks this time round."

"Three weeks? That's much longer than last time!" Paul comments, slipping in on my other side, slinging his arm around my shoulders so that I'm now sandwiched between two tall vampires.

"I don't have to stay that long." I point out, jokingly, sending Marko an apologetic look when he notices that Paul has managed to get his arm around me.

"That's not what I meant, it means that we can do so much more together!" The tall, blonde vampire explains, most likely already thinking up ways to spend the next three weeks, "We should go swimming in the sea, and go on all the rides on the Boardwalk, and go to concerts-"

"Take it easy, I only just got here!" I cut him off, grinning as David and Dwayne chuckle at their friend's antics.

"Speaking of which, have you eaten yet?" The platinum blonde interjects, lifting an eyebrow at me in curiosity.

"No, I don't have any money on me, actually. I think I left it back on the carrier, which is annoying." I frown, thinking for a minute before remembering something, "No, that's not true. I brought some of it with me. It's in the seat compartment of the bike, hang on."

Swiftly, I retrieve the money, returning to the two vampires who had their arms around me, both of them only to eager to repeat the gestures.

"You should know by now that you don't have to pay for food when you're with us." David reminds me, lifting an eyebrow at me as he watches me put the notes into a secure pocket under my belt.

"I know, but I like having it with me anyway." I supply, only too happy to start walking towards the food stalls of the Boardwalk, my stomach growling audibly as the scents of the different types reach me.

"Fair enough." Dwayne says, squeezing my waist gently.

In no time, we've bought some food and eaten it, continuing to roam the Boardwalk as the night goes on, the five of us having a good time together as we always do, falling straight back into our usual habits and patterns, the friendship as strong as ever, though I've noticed that their touches are often more lingering than before, and that they're stares are less innocent than they used to be. I try to ignore it, but it becomes increasingly harder as Paul and Marko continue to fight over who gets to wrap their arm around me, eventually just agreeing to swap every half and hour or so, Dwayne never leaving my side as David leads us around, the vampire smirking at me every now and then.

After a few hours or so, I feel myself starting to get tired, having had very little rest in the time between travelling and meeting the boys, so I ask them if I can join them at the cave, seeing as I have no other accommodation, to which they all wholeheartedly agree. Leading me back to the motorcycles, the four vampires quickly decide whether to take the road or the beach back to the sunken hotel, swiftly deciding on the road seeing as it is the most direct, and therefore the quickest, though David does promise that we'll ride along the beach at some point.

As we leave the Boardwalk, I ride towards the back, between Marko and Dwayne, easily keeping up as we thunder along one of the motorways, shrieks and whoops of exhilaration leaving us from the thrill, our speed dangerously high until we hit the dirt paths leading up to the Bluff, at which point I slow my bike down so that it can grip the dusty surface better. Ahead of me, Paul tries to goad me on, encouraging me to live a little, though my heightened survival instincts are telling me to be careful along the steep cliff edge. Coming to a halt at the top, we dismount and hide the motorbikes, the four of them swiftly taking me down into their abode, though I do collect a bag from the compartment under my seat before following, sitting it down on the sofa beside me as I collapse onto one, routing around in it briefly.

I pull out a slightly scuffed book, throwing it to David as he comes to sit opposite me on his wheelchair, the others crowding around him to look at it in curiosity.

"Got you guys a little something." I tell them, gesturing to him to open it.

Upon doing so, their eyes widen, Marko's breath hitching as he sees what it is, the young vampire obviously fascinated by it.

"When did you get these?" Dwayne finally manages, unable to tear his eyes from the photo album in David's hands, admiring the Polaroids I stuck into it, thinking they'd be happy to look at them.

"Well, I had my RIO* bring a camera up with him one time when we were on patrol, but I took the pictures. I thought you'd like to have some pictures of the sky in the daytime and at sunset and sunrise to look at, seeing as you can't see them in person anymore." I explain nervously, hoping they like it, suddenly feeling a bit unsure of whether they'd like to be reminded of this fact.

For near enough ten minutes, the four vampires are silent, flicking through the book with wide eyes, David tracing a finger over one in particular.

"How the hell are we supposed to thank you for this, kitten?" He finally says, the nickname making me blush a little, though I'm not entirely sure how to respond.

"You don't have to thank me for that, it's not that great of a gift, on the scale of things-" I start, only to be cut off by Marko.

""Not that great of a gift"? Are you serious? This is the best thing we've ever gotten!" He exclaims, tearing his eyes away from the photos so that he can come over and drown me in a hug again, crushing me into his chest. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him, holding him tightly, inhaling the comforting scent of his jacket as I do so.

Across from us, Paul also manages to look away from the Polaroids, coming over and joining us on the sofa, a grin on his face as he plonks himself on top of Marko, a grunt escaping me from the sudden weight.

"You're the best, (Y/n), you really are!" He praises me, leaning down to press a swift kiss on my cheek, smirking when I blush in response.

"I'm not sure about that, but thank you anyway." I wheeze out, their weight starting to become a bit too much for be to bear. Tapping on Marko's back, I wait for him to throw Paul off before pushing him off of my lap, taking a deep breath as I look over at Dwayne and David, who are still enraptured by the photo album.

"Who's that?" The latter suddenly asks, pointing to a certain picture.

Frowning, I get up and come over, looking down at the picture in question, smiling as I recognise it immediately, the image holding a lot of sad and happy memories for me.

"Those are my friends Maverick and Goose before..." My voice trails off, an old surge of grief gnawing at my heart as I recall the exact moment that photo was taken, remembering the aviators as they joked around with me and my RIO, Hawk, all four of us only staying still for that one photo.

"Before?" Dwayne pushes gently, dark eyes boring into mine with curiosity.

Clenching my jaw, I let out a sigh before I reply.

"Before the accident. The accident where Goose...died..." I manage to get out, my eyes now fixed on the miniature version of my friend's face, still wishing he were still alive and kicking.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n), I didn't mean to bring it up. If I had known, I wouldn't have said anything." David apologises, placing a gloved hand on mine in comfort, blue eyes sympathetic.

"No, don't worry about it. It's what happens in the military, and it just so happens to be that my friend got it in the neck. There's nothing that can be done." I tell him, grateful that they haven't pursued the subject, though the reminder has made me feel a lot more tired than before, for whatever reason, "I think I'm gonna go get some sleep now, if you don't mind. It's been a long day."

The four of them agree, Paul, Marko and Dwayne all pressing quick kisses on my cheek as I pass them, David following me to the little nest that they provided for me the last time I was here, the vampire watching as I settle in. I only take off my boots, socks and belt, unpinning my Wings from my chest as I go, briefly debating with myself about whether or not to unbutton my shirt and just sleep in my underwear, until I remember that David is still there, his blue eyes tracing my form as I move around.

Finally slipping into the makeshift bed, I notice that the vampire still hasn't moved away, watching me as if asking for permission to do something, my mind struggling to comprehend what he means until I see him look at the blankets questioningly.

"Do you want to join me?" I ask, surprise lacing my voice.

"If you don't mind."

I can't refuse him, so I simply move over and let him slide in beside me, feeling even more surprised when he pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing circles into my skin with one thumb. A small gasp escapes me when I feel his hand slip under my shirt, his skin icy cold against mine, the sensation pleasant as starts to trace patterns into my sides, his eyes boring into mine as I watch him, still confused.

"What's gotten into you?" I question him, laying my head on his chest, my hands coming up to rest just on his collarbone, my fingers running over the line of the bone.

"Nothing, I just need to tell you something which might not be the greatest news you've ever heard." He tries to reassure me, his deep voice resonating though his chest and into me as he watches my facial expressions change.

"What is it?" I ask him hesitantly, dread biting at the back of my throat.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember us telling you about the whole idea of vampires having a mate?"

"...Yeah?" I frown slightly, briefly remembering the conversation.

"It turns out that the four of us have a mate, and it's taken us far too long to feel the connection." David confirms, swallowing at the confession.

"Oh really? Who is it?' I can't help but feel a bit disappointed, knowing that the mating bond makes the four of them off-limits to anyone else.

"You. You're our mate."

*RIO = Radar Intercept Officer

Part Two

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#top gun #crossover #slight crossover #bit sad #maverick

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babysprouseisart · 4 years

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Honestly more things are pointing to a permanent separation for SH. No indications of any reconciliation sadly. And it makes it even harder without the confirmation. I guess when they start to get papped with their new SOs will be the day that it is confirmed they are done. And I hope it is soon. This push and pull with them is exhausting

Good day, anon, and welcome to hell. Screams for help will not save you, alas, because when it comes to a topic in which I am 99, 9% sure, I have no equals. I'm sorry you probably got the wrong address, but it's too late. I am merciless and bloodthirsty with anyone who tries to contradict my faith, tries to correct my point of view and convince me of their own, although I did not give it a reason. Because it's my fucking blog where I for x-billionth time has already expressed my exact points and agreed with some people which think and proved the exact opposite to all that you are saying. So be prepared to be slowly but surely tortured by my long ass post.

So, let's start with what I said about my blog: only good vibes here. I am not interested/concerned about other opposite/negative feedings. I just don't want to make a big deal about it. Here, in my blog, we support Lili Pauline Reinhart and Cole Mitchell Sprouse in any case as couple as well as individuals.

This means that under no circumstances do we talk about them, their relationships, their projects, their family, or their decisions in a negative way. Yes, we may disagree with something they do, where they do it, and how they do it (what they post, what they like/don't like, write or repost, who they meet, with whom they decide to be, live and communicate with, what they archive/unarchive, and so on), but we do not have the right to judge them or decide how to act. We also can't control it and it's none of our business.

I repent if I once made the appearance of a person condemning one of them or their family for their actions and possible causes of the separation, it was only my objective external disagreement, points and thoughts aloud, nothing more rude, involved and inappropriate. And I think with many of my words said earlier (or the words of those I follow and reblog their posts) about the behavior of family/friends of Lili, Cole, and so on, people with brains and common sense could agree. Remember this, or write it on your forehead, so that the next time you write to me, you will see these words.

Moving on, taking into account all of the above, I would like to tell you that it probably won't be enough for one blog to explain to you point by point all my beliefs and points of view on this subject, to prove to you that every fucking word you say is illogical shit and the most real nonsense. It feels like you're an alien who fell from another planet and decided to crawl into our hole with your impressions of a newborn baby who doesn't understand much about the world and its creators. Although in this case, I'm more of the opinion that you are a little asshole, in which the vein of hatred is boiling and you like to come to this and some other blogs to tell us your agenda although we have no idea where you have such rash thoughts, perhaps you have an extra chromosome? Dude, treat your paranoia.

Further, given that I don't have much time and desire to describe all my points of view point by point, which, unlike your random set of words, really makes sense for hundreds or even thousands of people who have the gray matter to be able to think, I will attach my long - standing post, indicating all the facts at that time proving the opposite to yours. Although, I will try to supplement everything else as much as I can.

While, we all ( I hope) already realized and accepted that for many reasons, during this quarantine, Lili and Cole had some problems, were distant and ended up apart for a certain period of time, immediately after the end point of the explosion and informing us of all these public actions on social media (I hope you understand), then after a few weeks, they were already confidently moving towards resolution and recovery and that's why:

https://babysprousehart.tumblr.com/post/618026656780648448/hello-i-hope-this-doesnt-come-off-negatively

This was written long before, but still has many valid points and I just want to widen some of them.

Take a sit and follow me word by word.

I shall start my addition of evidence, based on all the guesses and great opinions of others, as well as hints from the Lili and Cole themselves. I would like to start with a significant event and the day when Lili posted a photo from the Antelope Valley on April 28th, well, or 27th, depending on where you are.

Perhaps we lose some missing pieces in this puzzle and forget about something that was done earlier, but I just want to start counting from this moment.

A few facts about this photo/photos:

1) It was posted exactly 3 years later from their famous photoshoot, when very, very, very many people, mostly in media, began to suspect that there is something between them in a romantic way. It was exactly in the same place, exactly with the same style, exactly in a similar image (waving curly hair, light flying dress, black and white effect) and even without a capture. The picture marked the anniversary and is very important for the two of them. An undeniable fact, beat me.

2) That photo was definitely taken by Cole. Why?

Here are a couple more facts in addition to the first:

They have the quality of captured on professional camera.

You can see, that Lili did not tag the photographer and said jokingly that the photo was taken by Milo, why would she lie, or hide that it was anyone else, because clearly she just hid that because it was Cole.

You may have noticed that Austin, when asked who took the photo, whether she took it and whether she is a good photographer, says no and her reaction with a grin and laugh is priceless. She also didn't tag nor the photographer, neither Lili in her photos from there.

You can watch the vlog in the Colleen blog and see there are very similar figures to Cole, Lili and Milo walking along the valley, because, duh, they were there.

You can view her post, where you can see Cole from the back (notice his dark clothing, the same as on one of his post in the profile, which he has already deleted, as well as his position from which the photo of Lili was supposedly taken and it is just in the same place).

You can observe his style of photography and how similar the theme is to the photos from 2017.

You can see the same poppy behind his ear in one of the past stories.

You may have noticed that the photo of Lili is processed with the same effect as several photos in Cole's profile, and I can tell you as an amateur photo editor that it is very identical.

Question: why arrange such a significant photoshoot with your ex after a few weeks of separation? Why is Cole smiling in a photo (black and white one with a mustache and black clothes) probably taken there? Why is everything so secretive if they broke up? Why even post a photo that your ex-boyfriend definitely took? How can you calmly go to this place, which reminds you of your joint travels with your former lover? Therefore, this photo and later another one from there were the first iron arguments in confirming the improvement of things.

I would like to continue with another ironclad proof.

Lili in early may very fiercely, after a few weeks of Cole's statements about slander and threats, which she did not respond to so clearly at the time, defended Cole and pointed out the private relationship and literally said that people should stop it and even though should hurt and bully her, but not him.

Question: did she defend her ex so publicly? Would Lili talk about a private relationship if that was the way her past relationship was most often? Would she have written anything at all if she didn't care about him and didn't feel something towards him? I don't think so, so it's gibberish to say so (about the break up) when it's the second unquestionable argument.

Next, we need to talk about the general activity of Cole and Lili in social media. I just want to list some observations, in different order, but it seems like everything we have now:

If earlier it was visible in the posts of Lili that it was clearly a show off, then over time and after the published photos, she began to behave more sincerely and tenderly, began to publish Milo less, began to say that there was only the two of them less, has stopped showing how good she is without certain someone, as if for Cole showing that she could cope without him, which was visible in the posts and stories, she began to talk more about improving her mental health as a result of training, spoke about how later she was feeling better and that she was grateful for those who were with her and difficult times and in light moments, that you just need to live and enjoy.

Additionally, I can say how she shone with each photo, and it was a natural glow of happiness and settling down. She no longer sang sad songs or posted sad songs, on the contrary, posted sexy, funny and relaxed ones. She appeared more in photos taken by paparazzi. She posted sexy, energetic, romantic movies, funny cartoons, watched funny clips, was excited about her project, laughed, danced with her dog, played with a dog with macaroni, cosplayed Willy Wonka (we all have a feeling it’s Cole’s thing, no?), playing with sand, puzzles, posted funny memes in story, which unfortunately coolly accepted as the opposite, posted a poem with a typo and funny answered to a fan who corrected it, told more about poems and attached a photo with a fragment of a poem about love from her upcoming book. She liked some photos from the anniversary of the last episode of the series, where we remember there was a hot scene of her and Cole's character, she liked a Bughead drawing. Yesterday, she actually posted one of the sexiest videos that will not be posted, being single and lonely, we saw that she actually spent more personal time with Cole (I am not saying they weren’t doing t back then), which was investigated thanks to many amazing people here, and even if they don't live together yet, they are more likely to meet and have met with each other, and more hints on sexy times (because, come one, maybe Milo was the one who left a hickey on her neck, huh?), which is undeniable, just compare the fact that she is no longer in the old rental, and he is not in Kj's house, she then posted a photo from some place, which is very similar to where Cole shot a video with Jimmy Fallon.

He also began to be more active in social networks, exactly after she started posting photos of the Antelope Valley, he posted a series of photos of the kissing couple, even if it was a gay drawings, they were filled with love, there was a photo of him with cattle with the sarcastic caption, then the photo about porn bots, with funny ask to leave him alone and saying it’s not allowed to be horny on quarantine, again a photo of himself with heart eyes that I talked about above, he posted a very funny video recently. There were more photos from the paparazzi after some time when Lili's usually flashed, and then it stopped, then his humorous photo in the washing machine appeared, which she probably had taken, and why so I explained in the attached post, he posted a photo from the walk, which was also probably taken with her, because again, she had a similar location, then he jokingly called Tommy ‘the’ muse, maybe roasting fans, but he didn’t use ‘my’, so, indicating he still has his own muse, then we saw him at that damn party, which caused people's panic, although he is an ordinary person and has the right to relax, and by the way at this party he was very happy and frisky, but nothing bad or shameful happened and he is innocent, then we even saw Cole, after Lili, delete many of the photos, although he had also unarchived some of them several times, as she had, which means that he did not delete them completely, but just removed many of them, leaving the most tender photo after or before the kiss at the famous moment when Lili wanted a toast and eggs at 1 am, or many photos reflecting her body, which also marks not a bad phenomenon, but a simple trolling from them. Proof of this trolling and unarchiving is on the vastness of other blogs and on Twitter, thanks to that girl's video.

The way their condition and activity on social networks have changed is very noticeable and is also third undeniable fact of denial of the break up. You can compare photos of Cole taken by Alex, where he is clearly very sad and depressed, because it was taken somewhere in the interval of their real breakup. And compare this with his smiling and playful state during the interview with Jimmy, where he also sparkled with happiness and fun, constantly smiling and seemed to be aroused about something (or someone). I think even a newcomer will notice a change in their mood and attitude. You will see the difference. And this does not happen when going through the break up after 4 years of deeply imbued with love relationships. Please understand, damn it.

I have listed alas not everything that speaks so vividly about things going in the right positive direction and is evidence that everything is getting better again, there will be only more I assure you and you will kiss my ass, as Cole said.

Execution cannot be pardoned.

You have one attempt to put a comma and decide your fate, but I think you’ll fail because you are a total sucker anyway.

Bye!

#cole sprouse #lili reinhart #sprousehart #sprousehart positivity #sh positivity #bughead #only good vibes here #positivity #anon hate #anon ask #ask #cole and lili #relationship #break up #not a break up #shut up dumbass

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Mitchells vs. the Machines Is Next Step in American Animated Movies

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

While watching The Mitchells vs. the Machines, I was reminded of a recent trend in animated movies, which is the growing need to make environments look realistic. Technology has increased to the point that animation can almost appear photorealistic. Even if an animated film has characters with exaggerated features, the “realness” of the rest of the film’s production design is often touted as a selling point. Both Walt Disney Animation Studios’ Raya and the Last Dragon and Pixar’s Toy Story 4 leaned into a grounded aesthetic, and many others wear “realism” as a badge of pride in their animation.

It should be said there’s nothing wrong with realism, but the focus on this style by many has severely restrained what animation can do. Disney can pour millions into making the CGI of The Lion King look so real it can be called “live-action,” but the great thing about animation is that it can be anything.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse was a fantastic example of what animation can do with its stylized look, pushing what animation is capable of. That film expanded the boundaries in terms of how a film can be animated. Now Netflix’s The Mitchells vs. the Machines is a high-energy exploration of the ground Spider-Verse broke.

That shouldn’t be an entire surprise. The team behind Spider-Verse (including producers Phil Lord and Chris Miller) have taken what they learned there and applied it to Mitchells. Spider-Verse was of course as much an experience as an animated movie, but Mithcells builds off that without the constraints of being tied to a well-established franchise.

Quite simply, one of the many reasons The Mitchells vs. the Machines works so well is because it doesn’t bother to “look” real. It knows it’s an animated film and plays it up. This isn’t just seen in the backgrounds or character designs, but it’s in the very energy of the film. Instead of scenes playing out like you might see in live-action, Mitchells makes heavy use of on screen text, graphics, and even two-dimensional animation.

At first, all of this style seems contained within the films made by lead character Katie, who’s getting prepped to leave for film school in LA. Her wacky and zany films (one called “Dog Cop” is a particular highlight) make use of various kinds of animation and help to set -p her personality.

However, as the film goes, it throws in as much off-the-wall animation as it can. When Katie’s father, Rick, decides to drive her across the country to college along with the rest of the family, clouds form over Katie’s head but they’re made to look like a marker drawing. And when the robotic apocalypse begins, and the titular titular machines attack, Katie comes up with a plan to save humanity. The inside of her notebook not only keeps the marker look of the cloud from earlier, but we also see 2D animation of her family as Mad Max style warriors. The film even uses live-action mixed with the 3D animation.

The way the film mixes so many styles and aesthetics is a breath of fresh air. You can feel the team behind it having so much fun just tossing in whatever style would make a certain scene work. The main bulk of the movie is 3D, but it has enough other kinds of animation to really make it something unique.

The film also delights in color. Whereas many films these days (both animation and live-action) emphasize desaturated colors, Mitchells vs. the Machines is filled with a bright spectrum that explodes off the screen. It makes the world much more open and inviting, rather than depressingly cold.

Everything from the Mitchell’s house to the Machines’ lair is a feast for the eyes. Anytime I had to pause the movie, it became a gorgeous, often funny, painting. This is the sort of film animation buffs will be studying frame by frame for years. Both for how color is used to convey the plot and emotions and to find all the little subtle jokes strewn about.

The most “realistic” thing that’s animated in the film is a giant Furby (shown in the trailer), and the intense realism of it is used to absolutely astonishing comedic brilliance.

The overall effect can be a bit over-stimulation, and you occasionally wish the movie would slow down just a bit so you can catch all the little touches. But then that’s what’ll make this movie well worth a rewatch in the future.

Of course the movie is technically and artistically a triumph but all of that would fall flat if the movie’s story wasn’t up to par, and I’m delighted to say that the visuals only enhance what is already a powerful story. The Mitchell family is weird and awkward, and all the kind of odd quirks that feel intensely specific and yet very relatable.

All the beautiful animation springs from this story. This isn’t a film where they just wanted to show off the animation and the narrative was an afterthought. It’s used to get you closer to the emotions of the family. To get you comfortable in their world and get inside their heads in ways you just can’t do in live-action. This is a film that could not be made in live-action. This isn’t a modern Disney movie where future live-action adaptations are more than likely in the heads of executive’s as they greenlight new animated films.

The Mitchells vs. The Machines is a special film and one Hollywood needs more of (especially since it’s a big-budget non-franchise movie.) The animation sets a new standard for what animated films can be and do. If we’re going to pump hundreds of millions into animation, let’s allow more films to go wild with what can be done. Don’t hold back. Be weird.

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babbushka · 3 years

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hey z 👀 i recently have the huge urge to start drawing but i'm so bad at it :( i always doodle in all my classes but they are literally so bad until today where i realized that artists are freaking cool and i wanna learn how to draw properly. i searched on youtube but... then i remembered your beautiful work and that stream you did once and i wondered if you had any tips ? perhaps a book or a video ? to get started on how to draw... 😶

Hello my darling anon! I am so happy that you’ve decided to pursue making art, and I’m honored you came to me! As someone with a fine arts degree, I can absolutely give you some resources that might be worth checking out, but please know this one thing: art is entirely subjective. What one person thinks looks good, another may absolutely hate. As long as you’re happy, and enjoying the process, try not to fixate too much on the outcome. And always remember that representational art is not the only kind of art that is valid or worth celebrating!

That being said, here are some things that I’ve learned are really beneficial to keep in mind, from my many years of drawing, painting, and sculpting:

(under a cut because it’s long lol)

RESEARCH! This is one of those things that I know may seem kind of counter-intuitive, but I fully believe that by surrounding yourself with art, you’ll be more inspired and informed and motivated to make your own. Browse through online galleries, learn about the different art movements and find ones you like, follow contemporary artists and really dive into the work that’s all around you! Notice the things you like most about the art you’re drawn to. Is it the style? The use of color? The textures or lack thereof? Is it the composition? What about the rendering? Are you drawn to more photo realistic work, or work that has a looser interpretation? You don’t know what you like until you start looking at asking yourself these questions!

Use reference!! I know there is a taboo in the online art criticism community for using references, but honestly? References are incredibly helpful. Every great artist you can think of used a reference, whether that’s a live model in front of them, a collection of sketches done beforehand, or a collection of photographs taken and collaged together. Use reference with wild abandon! If you want to draw a bird, you will not be able to do so without looking at a picture of a bird. If you want to draw a person, you have to know what they look like, so go do some research and get to sketching!!

Make studies. This kind of goes hand in hand with the reference. Find something that you like (an object, a person, a landscape) and try to replicate it. Notice the things that you manage to recreate successfully*, and the things that you might need to work more at. Then do it again, paying attention to the improvements. Rinse and repeat.

Time restrict yourself. Often we get so hung up on the idea that everything we makes has to be a masterpiece, and everything has to be fully rendered. I believe that this stunts our ability to develop skills because if we’re hung up on perfection, we’ll never get to explore. So, challenge yourself to quick gestural drawings. 3 minutes. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Capture the essence of the idea without worrying about the details. See how many things you can get down on the page in that time frame -- it doesn’t have to be good, it just has to Be.

Now, onto books! These aren’t so much step-by-step guides (because really the only way to improve is to practice** but more on that later) but rather are aimed to help you open your eye to the idea of drawing.

Drawing People:

Drawing for the Absolute and Utter Beginner by Claire Watson Garcia

Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards

Complete guide to drawing from life by George Bridgman

Anatomy for The Artist by Sarah Simblet

Drawing everything else:

Keys to Drawing by Bert Dodson

Landscape Painting: Essential Concepts and Techniques for Plein Air and Studio Practice by Mitchell Albala

Perspective Made Easy by Ernest R. Norling

Learning about the different art movements and their key players:

Art Through the Ages by Helen Gardner

The Story Of Art by H. Gombrich

Ways Of Seeing by John Berger

Isms: Understanding Art by Stephen Little

As for videos, I can’t say that I have too many suggestions other than searching for things like speedpaints or timelapses. I think it’s really informative to watch how other people approach drawing on their own projects, and I always tend to learn something about process when I can just sit and observe the way they go about their piece.

Clarifications:

* = When I say “successfully” I don’t necessarily mean photo-realism. I mean, when you are drawing, and when you’re finding your style, you should be conscious of how your work is reflecting that. Are you more abstract? Are you more impressionist? Are you more concerned with color and form rather than detail, or does detail mean the most to you? These are the things you have to keep in mind when determining if the work is “successful” or not. Is the piece evoking the feeling that you want it to have, is it going in the direction that you wanted it to, is it representative of your plans for the piece, etc. Successful =/= hyper-realism, unless of course, you are aiming for hyper-realism.

** = Practice is, undoubtedly, inarguably, the most important thing to get better at any skill, but especially art. And do not be mistaken, art is a skill, just like anything else. People aren’t just born magical artistic geniuses, it is the result of hundreds of hours of practice, learning muscle memory, learning color theory and relationships, learning composition. Artists work hard to produce the content that we do, and that hard work should be celebrated! You’re going to work hard too, so embrace it :)

TLDR; Your art is unique to you. No matter what anyone says online or in books, you have to create the things that make you feel something. Don’t be afraid to experiment with styles or aesthetics that are outside of your comfort zone, and don’t feel like you have to stick to the rules that the art world has put in place. Practice practice practice, work hard, don’t give up, and have fun :)

#Anonymous

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victimofthemusic · 4 years

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Oh, TGTattoo (Tattoo Artist Ice), please!

Okay, so, this was actually one of the first of many story ideas I had and never finished when I started in the TG fandom. The idea came to me after I binge watched Ink Master for like, a week straight and the image of a tattoo artist Iceman Kazansky and Maverick going to get his first tattoo.

I honestly forgot this even existed until I did my little WIP challenge and I’m unsure if I’ll ever finish it. So, a very rough snippet of an unedited draft:

The working title I had for this was: i want to be the tattoo ink (that swims down through the needle in your skin). It’s a lyric from Dive In by Pierce the Veil :)

“Mav, this is Tom Kazansky, Tom, this is Maverick Mitchell,” Goose introduces, gesturing to Maverick behind him.

Maverick steps out from behind Goose and the first thought that enters his brain when he lays his eyes on the male before him, is that the beauty of the painting had nothing on the beauty of Tom Kazansky.

He’s tall and broad shouldered and Maverick swears he can see the outline of his abs through his tight white t-shirt. His blonde hair is bleached from the sun and his face looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself and his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. His blue eyes are so pale they’re almost silver and the only thing that draws Maverick away from getting lost in those depths, is the intricate art work covering both of his arms; his very toned, muscled and tanned arms.

Before Maverick can really look more into exactly what was covering those delicious arms, Goose nudges him and Maverick blinks, darting his eyes back up to amused silver ones.

Maverick clears his throat, feeling his face flush, and he holds his hand out. “Uh, sorry, it’s um, nice to meet you, I’m Maverick.”

Tom raises a pierced eyebrow, his lips twitching, taking Maverick’s offered hand. “So I’ve been told.”

Maverick chuckles nervously. “Right, sorry.”

He takes his hand out of Tom’s warm and firm grip and brushes his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Sorry Tom, Mav here is just a little nervous,” Goose says, giving Maverick’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Tom raises an interested eyebrow, his sharp eyes on Maverick. “Is this your first time?”

Maverick’s face is positively in flames at the double meaning behind his words, but he finds himself nodding. “Uh, yeah, this will be my first. Tattoo. My first tattoo. Yeah.”

He cringes and barely refrains from smacking himself on the forehead at how stupid he sounds.

Tom’s face remains impassive but Maverick can see the way his eyes dance with amusement. “Right. Of course, what else would we be talking about?”

Maverick swallows and is thankfully saved from further embarrassment by Tom flicking his gaze back over to Goose. “Make yourself at home, Mother Goose, I’ll take care of your friend here.”

Goose squeezed Maverick’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

He shoves Maverick in Tom’s direction and Maverick, unprepared for the blow, stumbles and only rights himself when strong hands grip his forearms, steadying him and saving his face from hitting the white tile floors.

“Easy,” Tom murmurs and Maverick shivers, pulling his arms free, shooting Goose a glare over his shoulder as Tom leads him behind a black curtain.

“Where do you want it?” Tom asks, pulling black gloves out of a box resting on the counter and snapping them over his hands. The movement only draws Maverick attention to the length of those fingers, the largeness of his hands and he swallows heavily, wondering what they would feel like on him, in him.

Shaking his head and trying not to flush, he points to his right pec through the material of his white t-shirt. “Right here.”

Tom gestures for him to stand up and Maverick complies easily, standing to attention at the foot of the chair, hands behind his back and waits for further instruction.

Tom’s lips twitch in amusement. “If you want this stencil to go on you, I’m going to need you take your shirt off.”

Maverick gives an embarrassed laugh. “Right, sorry.”

He feels a sudden shyness creep over him as he grips the hem of his t-shirt, Tom watching him, pulling it over his head and leaving him exposed from the waist up. His dog tags clink against his chest when they finally release from the confines of his shirt and the coolness of them is startling. He can feel Tom’s gaze on him as he folds his shirt and places it on the counter, off to the side to make sure it’s not in the way.

Maverick feels oddly vulnerable, something he’s not accustomed to when it comes to exposing his body to other peoples eyes. He’s paler than usual from being on deployment and not having time to be out on the beach, but he knows his body is fit and muscled from hours of drills and time in the gym in order to stay in Navy standards and Tom, it seems, to appreciate this if the sweeping gaze he gives Maverick’s body is anything to go by. Maverick can feel the warmth pool low in his gut when those ice blue eyes meet his and there’s no mistaking the heat and interest, but it’s gone the next time Maverick blinks, replaced by a cool professionalism that makes Maverick feel chastised.

Tom stands, grabbing the stencil and a disposable razor from his tray, eyeing the area Maverick had specified. He runs a gloved finger over Maverick’s skin, gaze considering as he traces his finger over the area and Maverick has to suppress a shiver, both at the touch and their proximity. Tom is a good three or four inches taller than Maverick and while it should be intimidating, Maverick only feels safety and heat. Tom’s body is warm and he can feel it radiate from him when he presses closer, stroking the razor over his skin. The contrast of warmth of his body and the coolness of the room make Maverick’s nipples harden and he flushes.

Tom’s gaze, however, remains impassive, as he tosses the razor into the trash and wipes an antiseptic wipe over the freshly shaved skin. It’s cold and it makes Maverick flinch.

“Sorry,” Tom says, flicking his gaze up to Maverick’s before they flit down to his work. The wipe follows the razor into the trash and Tom grabs the stencil, peeling back a thin film before he carefully places it over Maverick’s pec, smoothing edges and gently, he peels the paper away, eyeing the placement.

Tom nods, looking pleased, but he gestures for Maverick to turn and face the floor length mirror he just now noticed in the corner of the space.

“What do you think?” He asks Maverick, eyeing the purple letters in the mirror over Maverick’s shoulder.

Maverick cocks his head, considering, even though he really feels like he has no real opinion on it. It looks good to him—even across his pec, dead center, not too far up, not too far down and everything is spelled correctly. And Tom said it looked good and considering he’s the expert on this subject, Maverick takes his word for it and nods his approval.

“Looks good to me,” Maverick says with a shrug and Tom snorts behind him, making Maverick meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t be so blasé about this,” Tom says and his tone sounds scolding, “this is going to be on your body forever and you need to make sure before I start that this is where you want it. I can re-print another stencil if you don’t like this one.”

Maverick eyes the stencil again, shifting this way and that in the mirror and something like rightness settles into his chest at seeing the words he heard so often as child scrawled neatly across his skin. Like they were always meant to be there, etched into his skin like a birth mark.

So yeah, not sure if this will ever get finished, but who knows with me, honestly. Thoughts?

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