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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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i wish i could disappear

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, feelings of anxiety due to social media harassment, invasion of privacy that border on stalking

recommended listening: brutal | olivia rodrigo

series masterpost: here

a/n: and we're off to the races!! i love this album and olivia so much. there's a shoutout to goon by tobias jesso jr. in here bc it's my favourite album to cry to lmao (highly recommend giving it a listen!). i'm on the fence about this one but am posting it anyways because i don't think i can make it any better

How the fuck do people find your social media?

All of your accounts are private and Kevin makes sure to never tag you on the rare occasion he posts a picture of the two of you together. The wives and girlfriends who have public accounts make sure to never post about you, and you’re careful not to comment on posts often. You’re a private person and though you understand that due to the nature of your relationship with Kevin you intrigue some fans, you don’t want to give them more than you have to.

Despite making no attempt to open up to the public or media, every day you wake up with hundreds of follow requests from complete strangers. At first it was a little exciting knowing that people were curious about your life but after years of the same routine it’s become draining. It takes you nearly twenty minutes each day to weed through them and accept only the people you know personally. Kevin doesn’t actually know how many people want to catch a glimpse of your daily life because you do your best to keep it from him. Knowing would only bring him stress, and you want him to be able to focus on winning games and loving you with his entire heart.

☼☼☼☼

The phone on your desk rings loudly, pulling your attention away from the computer screen that has way too many numbers on it for your liking. The finance department needed someone to proof their audit before sending it away and since you’re the only one in human relations that has a business degree the job landed on your shoulders. Eager to take a break, you pick it up and press the receiver against your ear.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side laughs gently, but you immediately know it’s Kevin. “Hi sweetheart,” he says warmly, “How’s work?”

“Fine I guess. It’s work, Kev. Nothing terribly exciting happens here,” you explain but continue to fill him in on all the coffee pot gossip you got this morning. Kevin listens as you complain about forgetting your lunch on the counter and chuckles at how upset the situation makes you.

“What if I told you I’m outside your window with a burrito bowl?”

Excited at the possibility of seeing your boyfriend before dinnertime, you whip towards the window and spot Kevin on the sidewalk, waving like an idiot despite knowing your office is on the fifth floor. You hang up quickly after telling him you’ll be down in two minutes and let the receptionist know you’re stepping out for lunch. There’s a line for the elevator so you head to the stairwell, taking them two at a time in your haste. You’re crossing the street to the small park where Kevin has set up a picnic before your co-workers are even out the door.

You plop down on the blanket beside Kevin and lean into him. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before passing you the food he brought. You take a bite, sighing at the taste. Kevin knows you better than you know yourself and knew exactly what to get that would satisfy your mounting hunger.

“Thanks babe,” you smile, holding up your fork and offering him a bite. He takes it graciously but makes a face. “What’s the matter?” you laugh as you take the utensil back.

“I fucking hate avocado.”

The two of you eat in relative silence, speaking only when you remember a detail from your morning. Kevin tells you about the drills he’s going to lead at practice in the afternoon and what he plans on cooking for dinner since he’ll be home before you. You insist you can whip something up when you get home but Kevin shakes his head. He reminds you that relationships are give and take, and that you’ve made dinner the past three nights because he had a string of games. You manage to reach a compromise that has you doing the dishes before you have to return to work.

Kevin insists on walking you back to your office even though you protest vehemently. Your relationship is far from secret, and has been the topic of workplace gossip more times than you can count, but after five years you’ve learned to ignore most of it. However, you don’t want your co-workers to think you flaunt your NHL player boyfriend to prove you’re better than them. They all love Kevin, and a couple of them congratulate him on last night’s goal as he follows you down the hall. A few of the newer hires stare in awe and shake his hand, completely blown away that one of Philadelphia’s biggest stars is asking how they like their jobs.

“Pretty soon they’re going to approach you to do PR for us,” you chuckle as you flip the light on and close the door of your office.

His laughter echoes off the walls as a pair of strong arms find a home around your waist. “It would be kind of fun to hear myself crush those radio commercials.”

“Since when do you listen to the radio?”

“Checkmate,” Kevin sighs, pulling you closer. He kisses you quickly, not wanting to give a show to anyone who could be walking past, but it still sends you reeling. You don’t want him to pull away and kiss him again.

You get your way for a few more moments and then Kevin’s leaving with a promise to not burn the house down and wishes for a good rest of the day. Focussed on giving the audit its final once-over you don’t bother pulling your phone from the drawer you had placed it in when you got to work that morning. You turn up the small radio at the corner of your desk and get to work scanning the document for errors. There’s a mistake halfway through that skews the rest of the data and fixing it takes a bit of time, but it isn’t a huge deal. You have nothing else to do except answer a few emails and organize meetings for after the weekend.

An hour or so later you’ve completed all your tasks and debate what to do. It’s too early to leave for the day, so you decide to kill time by checking your phone. You’re expecting a few notifications, perhaps two or three memes in the group chat you share with your friends, but not the hundreds that greet you.

The majority of them are instagram notifications, and assuming they’re just more fans requesting a follow you ignore them, instead heading to your text messages. There’s a picture from Kevin of a dog he found walking home and another from your mom asking why you haven’t called home in a few weeks. However the one from Claude’s wife is the one that piques your curiosity.

Just a heads up that someone posted a pic of you and Kev to one of those stupid wag pages. I filed a request for Instagram to take it down but it’s gotten a lot of traction. Sorry :((

Your heartbeat increases rapidly and a million thoughts fly through your head at a rapid speed. Fingers shaking, you respond with a thanks and open up the dreaded app. You don’t see it immediately, your feed being full of photos belonging to friends and family, but it’s in your messages almost two hundred times. Many of them have text attached and you know there will be a comment about your relationship regardless of which one you open.

Tapping on the most recent message you brace yourself for the worst. The new window opens a photo someone took of you and Kevin while eating lunch in the park across from your office not even three hours prior. It’s grainy and the camera angle is strange, but you’re eating and Kevin is looking somewhere out of frame. The accompanying caption reads Kev and his girlfriend out for lunch today! Follow @philllywagupdates for more :).

You let out a sigh of relief – it could have been a lot worse. Personal pictures of yourself have made it onto pages like that before and most of them they’re paired with mean-spirited captions about your appearance or other trivial matters. Assuming you’re in the clear, you head back to the page of the original message to thank the person for bringing the post to your attention. However, the message accompanying the post is anything but positive.

He can’t even fucking look at you. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you

The blood in your veins runs cold. You know it’s not true – Kevin’s made it clear you’re the one and truthfully you’re just waiting for a ring – but it doesn’t stop the sting you feel. What could possess someone to say such horrible things? You decide not to respond despite, possibly opening another can of worms with the seen function, and close the app. Leaning back in your office chair you focus on anything but your phone, looking out the window at passersby while regaining your breath. It works for a while, but eventually not knowing what others said eats away at you. You go through every single message to see hundreds of similar comments to the first, with only a few saying they’re glad you’re happy or how posting the picture is a violation of your privacy.

By the time you’re finished your spirit has been crushed. However, it’s also an acceptable time to start the weekend – at least no one in the office will have to see you cry. Things are hastily packed into your bag and you wave a few quick goodbyes before once again taking the stairs. You curse yourself for deciding to walk to work that morning and set off in the direction of home wiping away tears. The last thing you need right now is for someone to recognize you, but you have to get home. Tobias Jesso Jr plays at much too loud a volume through your headphones and Kevin will most certainly remind you it’s bad for your hearing, but the melancholy piano riffs of Goon overpower the thoughts swirling around your head.

Do people really feel that way about me?

Are my friends just too nice to stop inviting me places?

Does Kevin really feel trapped?

Hundreds of similar sentiments and situations cross your mind as you stumble through the streets of downtown Philadelphia, but you force them as far back as possible before opening the door to the apartment you share with Kevin. Hoping to slip inside undetected, you take your shoes off slowly and throw your jacket on the end table instead of hanging it in the closet. Your plan fails somehow and Kevin hears you, greeting you in a goofy apron covered in flour.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, but it drops once your eyes meet and he sees the hurt on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, trying to step around him in pursuit of the bathroom.

Kevin doesn’t buy it and sees right through your feeble words. “It’s not nothing if you’re this upset. If you don’t want to talk now that’s fine, but I think you should get it off your chest.”

You know he’s right, but you also know you can’t tell him the true cause of your despair. “Just some work stuff,” you sigh. “The audit got all fucked up and I had to fix it even though it’s not my job.”

It’s not technically a lie, which makes you feel better, and Kevin buys it. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips in sympathy. “Go take a shower and the gnocchi should be ready by the time you’re done. We can spend the night cuddling on the couch.”

“And watching Selling Sunset?”

“We can watch whatever you want sweetheart,” he chuckles. You part from him with a final kiss and head to the bathroom. Hopefully the steam from the water will carry away the negativity brought on by that damn post.

☼☼☼☼

Time passes but the hateful comments on social media don’t stop. In fact, you’re pretty sure they get worse. It’s so bad that you’ve deleted every app except facebook because you need it for work. Kevin doesn’t notice your abstinence from social media, but he picks up on how you spend more time criticizing yourself or staring off into space. When he pushes you either brush him off or feed some bullshit excuse about how work is getting you down. You know he doesn’t believe you but trusts you enough to come to him when you’re ready to talk.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to tell Kevin what’s been going on. There’s been scrutiny from social media before, when you first started dating, but it quieted down after the initial media frenzy. He helped you through that but it’s different this time around. Never before have you had strangers tell you your life is worthless or that your boyfriend should end your relationship. Some of the other wags notice your absence on instagram but chalk it up to you just taking a break. They reach out via the group chat and send wishes to see you at the next home game. It’s nice to know they care, but the voice in your head that has grown much larger in recent weeks tells you they don’t truly mean it. This leads you to decline the invite as politely as possible, citing extended work hours for your absence. In reality you’re too anxious to be anywhere that isn’t home or work, petrified someone is going to post something that will add fuel to the flames of those who interrogate you.

It’s another Friday afternoon, and you’re leaving the office early once again. There’s a small craft exhibition taking place around the corner from work and today is the last day it’s open. You had been meaning to go all week, hoping to find something small to add to Kevin’s birthday gift. As you step out of the building there’s a small group of young women, who don’t look old enough to have graduated college, standing off to the side. It fills you with dread, worried that somehow someone found out where you work and the insults are going to start occurring verbally, but you force yourself to be rational. You work fairly close to one of the artsier districts in the city and it’s more than likely they just want to find a cute mural to take pictures in front of.

You pass by and swear you hear them snicker, but you remind yourself you’ve just been jumpy lately. When they peel from their place on the wall and follow behind at a distance you think the coincidences are running out. It seems a little too strange how their movements line up with yours, and you go down a few winding side streets in an attempt to lose them. Part of you feels ridiculous because what group of barely legal girls would track a full-blown adult around a city of nearly two million people, but your life is currently strange enough you can’t be sure. They don’t follow you, and by the time you reach the market your heart rate has returned to normal.

The first few stalls have little to catch your eye, but a few rows in you find a leatherworker who makes adorable wallets. Kevin’s is ridiculously old and falling apart at the seams – his mom bought it for him before the two of you got together. You think a new one will make a perfect addition to the concert tickets you already bought and browse the table for something simple and elegant. A deep brown one with tan braiding around the edges catches your eye and you know it’s the one for Kevin. Checking the price to make sure you have enough cash in your wallet, you approach the shop owner to purchase. The older man has a kind smile that reaches his eyes as he thanks you for purchasing from him.

“No, thank you for making something so beautiful!” you gush. “My boyfriend is going to love it.”

It’s then you hear it – snickering accompanied by the click of a camera. You look over your shoulder to see the same group of girls from before laughing as they huddle over a cell phone, no doubt already starting to broadcast the photo across the internet. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Those girls don’t deserve to see their mission accomplished, but the longer they laugh at you the harder it is to swallow your feelings.

Head held high, you thank the owner one more time before holding your head high and walking past the group. The only way out is past them so you hold your breath and pray they don’t notice you. Unfortunately you aren’t that lucky, and one of them looks up just as you come into earshot.

“If Kevin doesn’t leave you after that sorry excuse for a gift I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she sneers.

Another one chimes in, “You’re honestly so pathetic.” They all cackle in amusement, and you speed up. The tears flow freely now, and you call an uber even though it will be a ridiculous amount of money. You just want to get home.

The uber driver doesn’t say anything when you get in, though you know it’s strange to be bawling your eyes out at four in the afternoon. You can’t help it – weeks of keeping all the hate to yourself finally got to you and being followed with the sole intent of ridicule is the final straw. At one red light he silently passes you a box of tissues, which you accept gratefully.

Luckily the lobby of your apartment complex is empty and you manage to get to your floor without encountering a familiar face. There’s a few hours until Kevin gets home from his final roadtrip of the season, and if you play your cards right you can get all the tears out and be as normal as possible before he comes through the door. You don’t even bother to put anything away, just head straight to the bathroom to slump against the tub. Sobs rack your body and you lose all sense of time. All you can feel is the hurt you’ve been holding in releasing itself and soaking the material of your blouse.

Kevin finds you laying in the position hours later. He tripped over your shoes coming in the door and immediately knew something was wrong – you always place them neatly on the rack in the closet upon arriving home. Peering through the quiet house for a hint at where you are, he sees the bathroom light on and makes a beeline for the room. It breaks his heart to see you like this, and even more so because he doesn’t know what spurred it on.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he coos, maneuvering his body to sit beside you and pull you into his lap. “What’s the matter?”

You bury your head in his shoulder and clutch the material of his dress shirt as you cry harder at the sound of his voice. Kevin takes your reaction in stride, rubbing circles on your back and working on evening out your breath. He doesn’t pressure you to speak and provides the stability you desperately crave as the world around you spins. An unknown amount of time passes before your tears run out, but spend it all on the bathroom floor curled into Kevin.

“I guess I should have told you sooner,” you mumble, “But I didn’t want to bother you.”

Concern laces Kevin’s features and his eyebrows knit together. “Tell me what?”

“I, uh, have been the subject of some internet hate for the past little bit,” you say sheepishly. It feels stupid to not have told him now, but you can’t change that. “But you were really busy with the season and I wanted to make sure your head was completely focused on the game so I just dealt with it myself. I deleted the apps and tried my best to go about my life. And then today after work I was followed by some people and they said some really hurtful stuff and shit became a little too real.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Why are you sorry Kev? You're Not the one sending me death threats.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair back into your ponytail. “Maybe not, but I still made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was going on. What kind of partner am I?”

“The best one,” you say confidently. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just want to forget about it right now. Can we just disappear for a little bit?”

Kevin wraps his arms around you tighter, as if he can engulf you to protect from the cruel outside world. “We can do whatever you want. If you want to get out of the city for a bit if you want, or just spend the next few days here away from prying eyes.”

“I love you.”

You say it because you mean it, and if you could scream it from the rooftops you would. Kevin is incredibly easy to love, even when you make it difficult for him to love you back. You know another much longer conversation is coming about everything that has happened recently because communication is the only way to solve problems and Kevin deserves that, but you’re thankful he’s willing to put it to rest for a few more moments.

He cracks a smile for the first time since he’s been home and kisses the crown of your head. “I love you too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Always and forever.”

Things are far from over and though you still never want to show your face in public ever again, you know that Kevin is going to do whatever he can to make things better and that’s enough for you.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @ricohenrique @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

#i don't love this but here it is!!!#one day i'll like the stories i write #kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #sour

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whatisthiswritingthing · 4 years

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The Photographer - Tobin Heath x Reader

Prompt: Hey, I love your writing. I was wondering if you could do Tobin X reader where the reader is a photographer who's helping out taking pictures for re-inc?

Note: This was option B yesterday!

“That’s the third time you have tripped over that case,” Christen laughed as Tobin stumbled again.

“Then we should probably move it, shouldn’t we,” Tobin grumbled, shy, embarrassed.

“I think it has more to do with who owns the case and not the case itself,” Christen shot her knowing smirk.

They had hired a new photographer to help them with the Re-Inc photoshoot. It was one of their biggest product launches yet, so they decided to bring in a new photographer, give the new launch a new look too.

The new photographer was incredible. They were on day two of the shoot and the pictures they had were phenomenal, it was going to be difficult to narrow down which ones to use. She put all the models at ease, earning genuine smiles, describing what she wanted casual and well. She confidently ran the shoot, politely directing everyone around, eagerly taking critic from Christen and Tobin about what they wanted for the products.

“No, it’s the case, we should move it,” Tobin blushed, looking away from Christen.

Christen grabbed her elbow before she walked away, Tobin let herself be pulled back but refused to make eye contact. “Tobs, just talk to her.” She said softly

“Hey guys,” Y/N approached with a smile, leaning into the case at their feet, starting to switch out lenses. “Shit, is this in the way? Here, let me move it.”

“No, no, no, It’s fine, definitely not in the way. You can leave it wherever you want. All good,” Tobin rambled quickly. Christen turned, smirking at Tobin.

“You sure Tobs? Someone might trip.”

“Oh no, Y/N obviously needs it right here. It’s perfect right here,” Tobin rambled again, “you don’t need to move it, you’re perfect,” Tobin directed to the photographer. “umm I mean your equipment. Perfect where it is, I mean.”

Tobin spun on her heel and walked away without saying anything else.

Y/N slowly stood up, watching the soccer player walk away smirking at the interaction.

“So, I’m good?”

“Perfect apparently,” Christen laughed, shaking her head at her best friends’ actions. “Tobin does some photography in her free time.” If Tobin wouldn’t do anything about her obvious crush, Christen would have to step in.

“Yeah? This your way of telling me I just got fired?”

“What? No, not at all! You are doing a great job!”

“I’m kidding Christen,” Y/N reached over and placed a hand on Christens forearm. “Tobin is welcome to mess around with some of my stuff if she wants.”

Y/N began to walk away, camera in one hand, additional lens in the other.

“She would love that!”

Y/N motioned for one the models to come over, so she could begin to shoot again. Christen turned to go find Tobin.

“Tell me how much you love,” Christen shook Tobins shoulders when she found her.

“What did you do?” Tobin challenged.

“Told Y/N that you do photography.”

“You did what?” Tobin looked at her with wide eyes.

“And she seemed pretty impressed, said you can use some of her equipment,” Christen continued as if Tobin hadn’t spoken. “you should totally do it, go ask her about what she uses or what other projects she has done. Her coffee order. Something Tobin!”

“Christen I can’t believe you!”

“I’m helping Tobin, you like her, talk to her. She is approachable, she’s done great work with our launch, she offered to help you,” Christen rubbed her hands up and down Tobin‘s biceps. “Y/N!” she called over her shoulder, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look in their direction.

“Yo!” Y/N turned around, grinning.

“Tobin is getting coffee, she wants to know what you want,” Christen pushed the midfielder towards the photographer.

“I hate you,” Tobin mumbled under her breath as she walked towards the photographer.

Y/N could see how uncomfortable Tobin was as she approached.

“You don’t have to get me anything Tobin,” she offered sympathetically.

“No, I’m just heading out now.”

Y/N gave her her order, “why don’t you give me a hand when you come back? I’d love some of your insight.”

Tobin took a deep breath as she approached the photographer after returning from her coffee run.

“Ahh thanks Tobin, let’s take a quick break,” Y/N took the offered coffee, setting her camera down on one of her cases.

Talk to her Christen mouthed over Y/N’s shoulder.

“So, uhh, which camera do you like?” Tobin rolled her eyes at herself.

“I’m mostly using the Nikon D850 for this shoot. It’s perfect for a fashion shoot like this; it’s small, has a quick auto-focus. So, I’m able to get a bunch of rapid shots and poses easy. Fashion shoots can get a little chaotic, lots of people, lots of movement, this is pretty durable,” she lit up at the opportunity to talk about her camera. “Plus, it’s pretty good when I do action shots for sports too, but I usually switch between Nikon D500 for those.”

Tobin nodded along.

“Christen said you do a little photography?”

“Oh yea, but nothing like what you do. Your stuff is incredible!”

“Nah, it’s all you guys. You have great products and people to shoot,” Y/N motions around the room. “You know exactly what you want, so that makes it so much easier. I’m just shooting what you guys envision.”

Tobin blushed at the sincere compliment.

“You’ve done such a good job with our stuff, really brought out our vision and made an effort to listen to what we wanted.”

Now Y/N blushed, then began to pick up her camera, motioning another model over to resume shooting.

Tobin awkwardly shifted on the case she was sitting on. Christen came from behind, placing her hands under Tobins arms and lifting her up.

“Ask to help,” Christen whispered in her ear.

“Want to help, Tobin?” Y/N called over her shoulder before Tobin could even think of it. Christen pushed her forward.

Y/N stretched out her arm holding the camera, offering it to Tobin.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! It’s your shoot, it needs to have your guys’ touch on it too,” Y/N nodded with a smile.

Tobin stepped forward and took the camera, stiffly taking a few photos. Y/N slid up next to her, placing a hand over Tobin’s.

“Relax your grip, you’re too tense, the camera won’t focus as clear.”

Tobin nodded to herself, taking a steadying breath, focussing on loosening her grip. Y/N applied a small amount of pressure to Tobin’s hand, guiding it to a new position. She leaned back to glance at the screen while Tobin kept snapping pictures.

“Those look really good Tobin!” Y/N encouraged, “step to your left a bit, and drop down. It will give you a better angle up and shift the lighting.”

Tobin shifted a little bit, still taking pictures. Y/N nodded along, tilting her head focusing on the screen and the photos as they came up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Tobin risked looking at the photographer, her jaw dropped, camera dipping down as she looked at the photographer.

Y/N’s face relaxed, looking away from the screen to Tobin as the photos stopped showing up. Christen rolled her eyes as she saw it occur. Tobin quickly brought the camera up and rapidly took pictures.

“Want me to take back over?”

“Uhh yea, probably for the best,” Tobin handed the camera back.

Y/N stepped back over, taking the camera back, shifting around the space taking more pictures.

“Smooth Tobs, real smooth,” Christen whispered into Tobin’s ear, nudging her shoulder.

“Was it that bad?” Tobin cringed.

“Nah, it could have been worse. I do suggest you ask her out, I’m guessing most photographers don’t let just anyone touch their cameras.”

“True,” Tobin nodded along, “so you think she would say yes?”

“I would be amazed if she said no Tobs,” Christen squeezed Tobin’s arm reassuringly.

The two stood and watched while Y/N continued to work, seamlessly adjusting people, patiently directing them where they needed to be. Tobin couldn’t take her eyes off the photographer; the subtle flex in her forearm while she gripped the camera, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated, the one piece of hair that wouldn’t stay behind her ear. Tobin took it all in, wanting to learn what other quirks she had.

“I think that’s good for today,” Y/N smiled, beginning to pack up her camera and the additional lenses she had been using. “Thanks everyone, great work!”

Tobin confidently took steps toward Y/N as she snapped one of her cases shut.

“Hey, I’m thinking of going for a drink now, maybe go for supper. Want to join?”

The soccer player tripped over her own feet. She had planned on asking out Y/N, she had not been expecting Y/N to ask her out first.

Y/N misinterpreted Tobin’s stumble as being uncomfortable and began to back track.

“But you’re probably busy. Or I total misread this,” the photographer trailed off, focusing intently on packing her things.

“Shit, no,” Tobin took two large steps to finish closing the distance. “Supper sounds perfect. I was actually on my way over to ask you the same thing.” She awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh,” Y/N’s head shot up, “umm great, that’s great.”

This was the first time Tobin had seen Y/N unconfident in her actions.

“Great,” Tobin winked, earning an unexpected blush, “why don’t I help you pack up and we can leave from here?”

Y/N grinned and nodded in return.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #tobin heath imagines

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lnkedmyheart · 3 years

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Considering how well MCU NWH has done with the nostalgia and moving Peter from a Miles Morales rip off to actually Peter Parker the filming is kind of garbage. I was rewatching some scenes and the CGI is very Marvel typical in its quality. That is to say that they make it look like garbage.

MCU is really really bad at dramatic film making. They rely far too much of glamour shots, unnecessary slow-mos, big pan effects. Like there is never any real weight to the characters and the cgi is like this really cartoony zippy flashing across the screen. And Spiderman was the worst hit by this problem because Spidey is all about fluidity and incredible camera angles but instead of feeling agile and nimble, they make his swings and shots feel rigid and clunky.

Now for instance, Andrew's spiderman series has great camera work and cgi, yea it feels very video gamey but the balance of the snappy speed and sudden slowmo during the final electro fight, the way Peter falls and lands and just in general the Gwen clock tower scene have a genuine weight to it. It's visual storytelling at its best. Hell even Venom: LTbC has incredible visual storytelling and that movie is as camp as can be.

But then when MJ fell in NWH it just didn't hit, the slow mo was so...bland, the shot composition was awful and when Andrew's Peter caught her and landed he came down like a fuzzy bad computer graphic than a person landing. The emotional tension was only there because of Andrew's acting following the scene. Because there is never any real tension being built in the shots themselves MCU feels shallow when it comes to genuine emotions because they are so hyper focussed on showing off their cgi.

The only reason MCU has ever had genuinely emotional moments has been because of amazing actors and their closeups. Never because of the camera work. And the sad part is that MCU had so much potential to really make their movies amazing, their early work had pretty decent cgi, they began to get somewhat good and then they just dropped it all in quality because they were too invested in the flashy magic circles instead of using cgi and practical effects in tandem to create eye pleasing scenes and impactful visual imagery.

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

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Pale Rose - Lion Whisperer AU Chapter 2 [Starker]

Chapter 2: Mister Six AM. Peter groans as he turns around in his bed to slap the alarm. The sun is already shining through the curtains and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Peter cracks his back and sighs, slowly raising his hand again to grab his phone. He unplugs it from the charger and frowns when he sees a wall of notifications. He puts in his code and opens his email first. He gasps when he reads his daily donation update. Their donation goal of 100k dollars was met. And kicked out of the park by another 560k. The number of separate donations has him lose his breath. How did so many people find this fundraiser? Peter opens the next email. YouTube contacted him to… Congratulate him? Peter’s eyes go wide when he sees the number in the email and he immediately switches apps to check his YouTube account. How many subscribers did he have yesterday? Around 700k?

“Holy shit…” he mumbles. 1.8 million subscribers . Peter jolts to sit upright in his bed, his bare chest uncovered from the thin sheet as he scrolls through the countless new comments he has. He pants, not believing what is happening. He’s pretty sure he can’t even read all of them anymore at this point. On his most recent video, the most liked comment sparks his interest. Who else is here because of Tony Stark?

“Oh, no, he didn’t.” Peter switches apps again and opens his Instagram. He stares at another wall of notifications and opts to just turn them off for people who aren’t mutuals. He’s about to hit the search bar to find Tony Stark’s Instagram in the list of people he follows, but with his notification wall compressed to just mutuals, one shines through.

Tony Stark now follows you. They’re mutuals now. Peter immediately hits his account and stares at the latest post. It’s a candid of Peter with Adi and Nedda. Tony didn’t have a phone with him, though, or a camera. How could he have taken this picture? Peter’s breath is stuck in his throat as he scrolls down to the caption, almost afraid of what he might read. Meet Peter Parker. A bright sun, that rivals the one up in the sky, who also happens to work with cats. Big cats. Wakanda’s Sanctuary, almost 300k square feet of land, is the home of lions and other animals that are native to Africa. There, Peter takes care of the animals that are endangered because of human interference. Animals that can no longer be released into the wild; that were saved from horrible private zoos or who fell victim to poachers. I was blessed with both a terrible sunburn and a generous conversation with Peter, in which he told me about his goals to raise money in order to fight poaching and to raise awareness for climate change. I do encourage all of you to watch at least one of his videos, just to get to know him and his feline friends a little better and to give him that small bit of ad revenue to help him achieve his goals. The world would be a better place if we were all a little bit more like Peter Parker. Peter stares at his screen, his cheeks flushed red at the endless stream of compliments. Peter reads over the last line again and again and again and again. Tony’s post got him this increase in subscribers. Tony’s post got him all of those donations. This was all because of Tony. Peter tears his eyes away from the phone to look at the small card on his bedside table. Matte black. No name. Just a phone number. Tony’s phone number. Maybe doing a collab with the billionaire philanthropist isn’t such a bad idea after all... - Peter assesses himself in the mirror. He’s never been this nervous for a video before. Or, ever at all, really. Tony Stark immediately agreed to being present for the move. Even on the phone, the man had been incredibly charming. Peter ruffles his hair in an attempt to make it look good, while sucking at his teeth. He swears quietly, knowing spending time with the lions will mess his do up again anyways. Peter opts to not think too much about it and covers himself head to toe in sunscreen, as he does every morning. He takes one last glance in the mirror before grabbing his baseball cap and putting on his walking shoes. When Peter opens the front door of his apartment at The Sanctuary he gulps and immediately walks back in to throw the door shut with a loud bang. Tony was already there. Right outside his small, messy room. Peter saw him well enough to have the image of Tony’s outfit stuck in front of his eyes. Camo shorts, brown walking shoes and a green shirt. His brown tinted pilot sunglasses hide his eyes mysteriously and fuck. He looks hot. Peter takes a deep breath in through his nose and closes his eyes, trying to calm his nerves. “Here we go…” he whispers to nobody but himself and when he opens the door again, he yelps, refraining from throwing it shut straight away again. Tony’s right in front of him, hand raised to knock on Peter’s door. The older man cocks his head and smiles. “Morning, Rose,” Tony quips. Peter swallows his breath and chokes when he hears the nickname. “You rushed back in, so I figured I’d come say hi.” “Yeah!” Peter exclaims, laughing sheepishly. “I- eh… I saw you didn’t bring a cap. I was gonna grab you one.” He presses his lips together in a smile. Yes. Good excuse. “A… cap?” “Yeah, a cap.” Peter doesn’t know what to say next and awkwardly stares at Tony’s features. “Should I have brought a cap, then?” Peter jolts when Tony speaks again and he points at his own head. “You get sunburnt at the top of your head quickly out there and I’m guessing you don’t want to put sunscreen on your scalp, so…” Peter swiftly takes off his own hat and pushes it onto Tony’s head. The man is startled by the gesture, but doesn’t protest. Peter stares at the man wide-eyed when he realizes what he just did. “-Ah,” he stutters. “Sorry about that, I should’ve asked, shit-” “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Tony laughs. “I get it, okay? When we first met I was just the random dude you see in the news occasionally and now I completely flipped your life with one post you didn’t want me to make.” Peter stands frozen in place, staring at Tony and pretends that that is exactly the reason why he’s so flustered. “I’m sorry for not asking permission. That’s on me. But- please- don’t feel like you have to do anything for me, okay? You don’t get the title of philanthropist by asking for things in return.” Peter takes a step back and looks at his feet with a frown. Tony clears his throat. “So, what are you gonna use for your head?” Peter looks up so he can stare at Tony again. Tony gestures towards Peter’s hair by nodding. “You just pressed your cap on me. Thank you for letting me borrow it, by the way, but don’t you need the protection as well?” “Right!” Peter exclaims, turning to fall on his knees and crawl under the bed to get a small box. He takes out an old, slightly more worn cap and waves it in front of his own face. “That’ll do.” - “Good morning everybody,” Peter smiles at the GoPro in his hand. “It is currently 7am, we got a busy day ahead of us: we’re going to be switching enclosures for two prides and if that goes smoothly, we’ll hopefully be taking Adi, Nedda and Beru for a walk this afternoon.” Peter looks down at his feet for a second and then back up into the lens with a wide grin. “Now, you must be wondering why I say ‘we’ for the walk, as that’s a thing I do without the volunteers of The Sanctuary, but I actually have a very special guest with me today!” Peter turns around quickly, whipping the camera with him until Tony enters the shot behind him. The man smirks and cocks an eyebrow. “Hello, there.” Peter feels Tony’s hot breath in his neck and has to stay focussed on the camera so as to not to lose his composure. A lot of people are gonna watch this video, simply because Tony Stark is in it, so he has to sell this right. For the lions. At least, that’s what Peter tells himself. “Tony Stark!” “Me!” Tony raises his hands above his head and they both pull a face, resulting in the both of them bursting out with laughter. “So,” Peter says, angling his camera correctly again. “A lot of you peeps have been asking me to make a video from the perspective of someone visiting The Sanctuary as opposed to just me with the GoPro attached to my arm, so I figured I could take this opportunity to see how well you handle a camera, Mr. Stark.” Peter presents the GoPro to Tony who looks at Peter’s fingers for a second. He really doesn’t like to be handed things, but every molecule inside his body is screaming at him to touch the boy, so he does something he rarely allows. With a grin, he takes the camera out of Peter’s hands, lingering a little longer than necessary and turns it until he’s no longer in shot. Instead, Peter’s all the viewer is able to see now. “Hey!” Peter exclaims. “You’re in this vid too!” “Yes, but you are infinitely more interesting to look at.” Peter scratches the back of his head and looks down, trying to hide his blush behind the worn cap. Tony clears his throat. “You doing your work, kid.” Saved it , Tony hopes. “Don’t think anybody goes to the Sanctuary Channel to watch my face.” “Well-” Peter exclaims, standing upright again with his lips pressed on top of each other. “I was also thinking that this video will be the one most people get introduced to my channel with because- well… You’re in it.” Peter nods, holding his chin with his thumb and index finger. “So, yeah, you can ask me anything that comes to mind. Doesn’t matter if I’ve touched on it before in other vids.” “Well, then, Mr. Parker-” “Peter,” the young man interrupts him. “Feel so old when people call me that.” “Sheesh, kid, you’re what, 22? Just a few days ago you were talking to me about retirement- we’re in the 21st century, people live ‘til 85 at least.” Peter laughs and boy, does Tony love making him laugh. “For the record,” Peter chuckles. “I’m 23. So that’s way older than 22.” Tony snorts. “And my workfield isn’t exactly without danger, Mr. Stark.” “Ha!” Tony exclaims. “Way to make me feel old, kid.” “But-” “If I’m not allowed to call you mister than you’re not calling me that either. Tony, kid. Call me Tony.” Peter hides his face behind his hands. “I’m gonna have to spend a whole day editing this vid, don’t I?” “Probably.” - “Alright!” Peter says excitedly as he hops into the truck. He slowly drives over the Sanctuary grounds. “Your timing is actually quite ironic, since we’re moving the Avengers today.” “The- oh?” Tony pretends he wasn’t already aware of this. He’s seen the videos of this particular pride. He knows what’s coming. He puts the camera diagonally and Peter chuckles, trying to steer with one hand while flailing slightly with his other to make Tony hold the camera straight again. “A group of four males. Banner, Thor, Rogers and-” Peter cocks one eyebrow with a smirk. “Stark.” “You named a lion after me?” Tony feigns his surprise with a wide smile and Peter scoffs a laugh. “These boys joined The Sanctuary as cubs about four years ago. Were all part of a circus.” Tony snorts and has to stop himself from losing his composure. “That’s not far off from the real thing,” he jokes. Peter presses his lips on top of each other in a grin. “Trust me, Mr- Tony.” Peter gently hits the brake and they slow down. “It’s quite scary.” “Says the kid who works with lions for a living.” “And hyenas,” Peter adds quickly. “And leopards.” “No black panthers?” “That’s the leopards,” Peter chuckles. “Leopards that are melanistic are commonly known as black panthers. But they’re still leopards, really.” Peter shrugs nonchalantly. Tony sniffs once. He’s getting schooled by a boy less than half his age. But he enjoys it. Somehow. Most of the volunteers were already waiting for Peter at the enclosure. There’s a large truck with a cage on top and a lot more commotion than Tony expected. “If you told me there’d be this many people I’d have prepped a speech,” Tony quips. Peter sighs dramatically and gets out of the truck. Tony follows swiftly and stares at how Peter speaks Xhosa with the other volunteers. It looks funny, almost, seeing a white boy speak the language so easily- fluently. After a minute, Tony grows bored, so he turns the camera to face him and pulls a few funny faces at it. When he realizes this video is going to be seen by a lot of people, he brings the GoPro closer to his face and whispers. “That was for your eyes only, Mr. Parker,” he grins. “Tony?” The older man looks up from the lens when Peter calls out for him and subconsciously, Tony smiles wide at the mention of his name. “You ready for the good part?” Peter shuffles past a few of the volunteers towards the gate and Tony makes his way over to fencing. “Oh, I am very curious, kid.” It’s not long before Peter’s by himself in the enclosure, the gate closed behind him. He casually strolls around, calling out the names of each pride member. Tony can’t help himself and inches closer to the fence. “So, these lions are four years old?” “Nearing five, yeah. They were only a couple months old when we found them. Sure made a wreck of my house when I raised them,” Peter laughs. “Pro-tip-” He raises one hand and only now Tony notices Peter’s holding a small chunk of meat in it. “-if you ever raise lion cubs; two at the same time tops. Not three. Never four. Four will make you so sleep deprived you think you have five cubs on your bed.” The boy chuckles at his own comment. “That was an interesting night…” Tony shakes his head with a wide grin. “I can imagine.” Peter suddenly cocks his head- listening. He turns and spots the first lion slowly making his way towards him. “M- Tony,” Peter says, looking back at the billionaire for a second. “Meet Rogers.” “Already have,” Tony groans, which makes Peter laugh. His focus immediately shifts to the lion and he squats, preparing himself for the imminent cuddles. He tosses the meat from his hand directly into the lion’s mouth. “Rogers is the most fragile of the pride. He was severely malnourished when he came here and though he bounced back, the joints in his back legs are not great. M’gonna have to help him get into the truck.” Tony listens carefully. Peter’s voice is sweet and soft. The white lion huffs friendly and presses himself against Peter, who pushes back against him with his head. When Peter opens his eyes, he nods at another lion approaching in the distance. “That’s Banner. He’s curious, but incredibly shy. Also the smallest of this pride. If none of you were here he’d come say hi, but the volunteers make him nervous, so he’ll probably keep an eye on us from over there.” Peter nods in the general direction of where the lion is and Tony turns the camera to get a shot of Banner. Not much later, a gigantic white lion approaches. He holds his head high and has a big mane. When he gets closer, Rogers immediately pulls back and lays down next to Peter. The big white lion claims Peter’s space and attention and the boy laughs as he pets him. “Thor’s the biggest- OOF!” The lion drops his weight on top of Peter, whose smile doesn’t falter. “Also the heaviest,” he adds. The lion huffs once, almost as if he’s protesting against Peter’s comments. “And the loudest.” Peter scratches Thor under his chin and the lion automatically opens his mouth right next to Peter’s face. His head could fit in there twice. At least. And the teeth are absolutely gigantic. The sight has shivers run down Tony’s spine. This is normal . This is Peter’s life. He knows what he’s doing, the boy does this every day. Tony bites the inside of his cheek. Lions. These animals are lions . Yet they act like house cats around him. Thor gets up again and without any incentive, he jumps into the truck. “He knows what’s up,” Tony laughs as he turns to the truck to take a shot of Thor from close by. He’s startled by a low rumble coming from Thor’s throat. “Is that purring?” he asks nervously. Peter stands up again, patting some dirt from the back of his shorts. “Lions don’t purr, that’s a growl. You better take a step back Mr- Tony.” Tony would make an offhand comment on how even though Peter corrects himself, he still ends up calling him mister, if not for the lion’s growls increasing in volume. He takes a hasty step back and Peter tosses another chunk of meat into the truck for Thor to eat. “The only big cats that purr are cheetahs and cougars.” “Now, that’s a fun fact. Good to know,” Tony says sheepishly, trying to hide his nerves. Tony frowns when Peter gets onto his knees in front of the truck. “What are you doing?” “Helping Rogers.” “You’re gonna let that gigantic beast step on you?” “Better than lifting him,” Peter quips back. He turns his head and whistles. “Rogie- Rogie, boy, come on!” Peter’s voice is high as he coos at the lion. Tony presses his lips on top of each other to stifle a laugh. Rogie, boy. He should remember that one for the real Steve. Rogers responds like a trained dog, but skips Peter completely by putting his front legs against the truck. He hops, but can’t actually get in. “Buddy, your balls are in my face, could you please get up?” Peter pats Rogers’ thigh before quickly placing his hand down again to brace himself. With great difficulty, the lion places one foot on Peter’s shoulder, not pressing his full weight down on the boy. It was enough of a step to help him get in, though. Peter stands up straight again with a triumphant look on his face. He tosses another chunk of meat into the truck and Steve takes it gladly. Thor had already laid down again, not too bothered anymore. Peter cocks his head at Banner, who’s still a bit away, but has decided to come a little closer when he noticed Thor and Steve entering the truck. Peter smiles kindly and squats, presenting a chunk of meat to the shy lion. Tony is absolutely enthralled by Peter’s control. The boy seems relaxed but if you look closely you can see how in tune he is with everything. How he keeps an eye on his surroundings. Banner creeps closer and when he’s next to Peter, it’s obvious how small he actually is. His mane is also way shorter than that of the other two. Tony stares wide-eyed at how Peter handfeeds Bruce the piece of meat. Handfeeds . “Not scared you’re gonna lose a hand?” “Nah,” Peter replies quietly. “Occupational hazard. And I trust my lions more than I trust humans, to be fair.” “Ouch,” Tony says to make light of the situation, trying to hide how that comment actually kind of stung. Peter chuckles, combing Banner’s short mane with his fingers. “We met three days ago, m- Tony.” “Does it really take you that much effort not to call me mister?” Tony laughs, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. “I was raised with manners.” He grins at Tony and tosses the next piece of meat into the truck. Banner doesn’t hesitate anymore and jumps into the truck as well. “It physically hurts me not to call you mister.” “Sure, kid.” Tony zooms in on Peter’s face. “Well then, if I get to call you Parker you have permission to call me Mr. Stark.” “Deal!” Peter exclaims immediately. The boy’s smile is so bright Tony is pretty sure he’d be blinded by it if he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. After another minute, the lions in the truck are getting a little restless. Peter sighs audibly and turns to face the enclosure. “You can guess who’s fashionably late.” Peter glances at Tony behind him. “As per usual.” “Time management is not my strong suit! And I was early this morning,” Tony laughs. Peter places his hands on his hips, guiding Tony’s eyes to look at the boy’s pert butt. He quickly looks back up at the back of Peter’s head. Now’s not the time for filthy thoughts… Maybe later. “Staaark!” Peter belts. “Here, boy!” Peter makes a couple of those funny noises he made when Tony first met him. “Why do you do all that? Those… Uwus?” “Wha- the noises?” Peter snorts. “Can’t believe Tony Stark just said uwu.” “Hey-” the older man protests. “You said it first! And I am hip with the youngsters.” “You know what? I suddenly don’t feel so old anymore,” Peter says with a grin. “You, Parker, are a meanie.” Tony points accusingly and Peter laughs. “Ouchies, that huwt my feewings.” “Just explain the noise, please-” Tony lets out an overdramatic exasperated sigh, indicating to Peter that he’s not actually annoyed. Entertained, would be the right word. Peter nods with a smile and turns back to face the enclosure so he can make the sound once more. “The huffing is actually me mimicking the sound of a mama-lion,” Peter laughs. “It’s comforting to them.” “See, you could’ve just said that straight away.” Peter shrugs nonchalantly, but before he can reply with another quick-witted comment, they all spot the dark mane emerging from the bushes. Stark really does take his time, slowly placing each paw in front of the other, as if he’s on a catwalk. Tony chuckles at his own thought. Catwalk . Stark stares at Peter as he crosses the distance between them and Peter preps himself by sitting down already. “Stark’s the most affectionate of the four,” Peter says as the lion presses into him. The force with which Stark rubs his face against Peter’s has the boy laugh and push back. “Next to Adi and Nedda, he probably likes me the most out of all the lions here.” He pats Stark’s back. “He’s also the most handsome of all the male lions in The Sanctuary. Hands down.” “Isn’t that subjective?” Tony asks quickly, pretending the indirect praise isn’t making him tingle. Peter shrugs before he buries his face in the dark mane for a second. “For lion standards, this is a pretty boy. Stark’s also the most sexually engaged.” Tony freezes up at how casually Peter talks about this. He wonders if Peter is actually indirectly talking about him. Not about the lion he’s petting. “That is, if we would breed here.” “You don’t?” “I don’t breed captive lions. The ones that we have in The Sanctuary are saved from situations that make them unable to be released back into the wild again. We spay every female to prevent them from reproducing.” “Why not the males?” “Spaying both is a lot of hassle for something that’s not necessary. If we were to neuter the males they would still be affected by the females’ cycles. That’s why we spay the females, who are unaffected by the males." “Ah, that makes sense.” Peter studies the near-black mane on Stark. “Should probably take these boys out for a walk tomorrow. Lower their testosterone a bit.” Peter looks up at Tony and gestures at Stark’s head of hair. “There were a couple of wild lionesses right outside The Sanctuary about a week ago. Stark must’ve picked up on them and their cycle ‘cause he’s a little sexually frustrated right now. As is evident by the dark colour of his mane.” Tony licks his lips. This isn’t happening. This isn’t actually happening. He shifts where he stands, hoping his shorts hide his own growing sexual frustration. Peter smiles wide and gets Stark’s attention by presenting a chunk of meat in front of the lion’s face. He tosses it into the truck and before the others in there can get to it, Stark has jumped in. Peter carefully closes the cage on top of the truck and nods at Tony, who still hasn’t said anything in an attempt to hide how flustered he is right now. “Let’s go!”

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More: Next Chapter (yet to be posted) Masterpost (yet to be made)

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Taglist: @professional-benaddict @tonystarkweneedyou

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level247-table-tech · 4 years

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like, i recognize to a lot of people the formality reads as generalized ‘early episode weirdness’, and i won’t pretend to think it was all intentional, but looking back it reads as progression. even knowing that things they share, or that we learn about them in general as they open up, are directed to the audience- made clear even by the camera angle - they are talking to each other in-universe, and i get the sense that they are learning about each other as characters too.

important note toward that point: they know what everyone else does, due to their functions, as well as knowing enough about each other’s specific inputs on various matters to clash about them. but as characters, i would argue they are unfamiliar to each other; they aren’t on a first-name basis and there’s little evidence of them interacting offscreen aside from said clashes. by getting to know each other by character, rather than just by function, they are more able to work together, come into agreement, and work toward a happier, more completely fulfilled thomas. as a couple extra notes, them being characters is what nondiegetically allows them to speak at all, therefore indirectly what allows them to come to conclusions together. there’s a neat symmetry in the concept that knowing each other’s characters is what allows them to work through things together more efficiently in-universe also. a more fulfilled thomas seems like the natural result of his sides being happier, given that they are his aspects, and that’s what all of them are working toward. them knowing and being decent to one another seems conducive to that. self-love, and all, but more on that later.

everyone seems less likely to show up, in earlier episodes, unless their function is pertinent[or they are called upon]. this is where we find one- or two-character installments. less of a group discussion, more just a necessity. in particular i’d argue that any of their appearances to thomas pre-series were more akin to either the example arguments in mind vs. heart[not mvh itself; thomas called them for that talk] or one-on-one discussions in the mode of way too adult[talking about what these represent from a non-imaginary point of view could be interesting, but not on this post]: they show up when they have a stance on whatever’s at hand. this more minimal dynamic holds up in early episodes, and correlating to this theory, the change from that is due to advancement in-universe. though it is pointed out by anxiety in alone on valentine’s day that he can’t just sit things out if he doesn’t want to participate. most likely it’s just because he has feelings about the topic of discussion and does not care to go unheard, but it’s worth noting.

early appearances of all sides[in dilemmatic episodes, that is; generally only anxiety is antagonistic where there’s no particular argument] are more hostile, but early episodes also focus more on reconciling their various areas. again, we can exclude single-character focus episodes[princey is barely in taking on anxiety and he’s called up by thomas. it’s an anxiety episode], but there are more 2-sided arguments in the early episodes. the heart vs. the mind is a good example, with morality and logic talking through their previous arguments, and working toward compromise. that word’s gonna crop up again a lot. of course, one does get the impression that there’s little animosity related to past arguments! but that, i believe, can be chalked up to civility. that, and potentially regret is someone else’s domain, or thomas prefers not to dwell on it. in any case, they come to an understanding that if they work with each other rather than against each other, thomas can come to conclusions more than conflict, which are satisfactory to both parties, and which removes a stressor. the dark side of disney showcases a discussion between two sides who are less inclined to civility in ordinary clashes: princey takes his duty very personally, and anxiety is conflated with his negativity in a way that frames him as antagonistic to others and to thomas. yet this is a more casual discussion, less about conflicts or life events great or small, and more about interpretation. presumably this is just thomas pondering disney plots, on that level of thinking[listen there are three whole layers of reality in this show; i can’t just say diegetic or in-universe. the viewers are real, the sides are imaginary, and character thomas is having thoughts. i don’t know what to call it], and the results of this discussion won’t impact much other than tarnishing disney’s image. it’s just a disembodied ideal based on an external, unrelated body of work. anxiety proceeds to point out flaws in the ideal. many of which are valid points, and princey anticipates anxiety bringing up stockholm syndrome in the context of beauty and the beast, demonstrating that he already recognizes these flaws, and is just more accustomed to not focussing on the negative. different values of the critical. by the end of the episode, though, anxiety also admits that he appreciates disney movies despite their flaws. princey saw the flaws, but didn’t want to dismiss works outright for them; anxiety in truth shared this position but was unwilling to let the praise stand without a critical eye: a valid condition[pretending disney is flawless is setting a bad, bad precedent]. from then on more discussions ensue wherein more sides have opinions to bring to the table, presumably because it works and they have input, up to my negative thinking, wherein morality and princey are tabled, put offscreen. they provide excuses for their absence. already, there is enough precedent for all sides being present to these talks that absence calls for justification, at least in the opinion of thomas[not sure if anyone else was writing by that point? them too]. this is less one of those compromise episodes, and more an early appearance of how applying logic to problems is really effective, but it acknowledges anxiety’s opinions/feelings as being legitimate[in the sense that feeling that way is valid, not that he’s right], and addresses the cognitive distortions that lead to this kind of downward extrapolation. anxiety was wrong, but them working together brought thomas to a place where he had a more realistic projection of the effects of his actions. less relatedly logic admits to appreciating anxiety’s adherence to the formal debate format[for as much as he did so, at least], and says that while he frequently disagrees with anxiety, he isn’t as opposed to him as anxiety seemed to believe. this is a debate between a side with that civility i mentioned, and one without. but anxiety mostly does not express that civility due to that mentioned conflation of him with his negativity, which logic does not engage in as much here; logic points out failures in reasoning without edging in on personal attacks, dismissing anxiety’s arguments due to fallacies, and not because he attributes them simply to anxiety being a negative person[side? you know what i mean]. the result is fairly peaceable. now, keep in mind this talk about anxiety, we’ll focus more on him in a bit.

another angle of progression is in time they actually spend together[not during the course of an episode; i hesitate to just say ‘not counting times where thomas is present’ but you understand. time not occupied by dilemmas, maybe]. as mentioned, there’s little proof they’ve seen each other pre-series outside the occasional argument[also that dollar morality borrowed, but what even was that? it was also with princey, who he seems to have the most in common with], but as end-cards made appearances, we could see the sides spending time together. in an after-the-scenes sort of sense, to be sure, where it feels like they’re sticking around after filming because they somehow have to. at least, that’s the impression i get from the losing my motivation end-card; princey and anxiety probably would not want to spend time together at that point in time. i’ll chalk the ‘necessity’ of that up to the bizarre non-diegetic framing[like, in that scene he calls his agent. i have no idea what they were trying to imply]. at other times, though, it does read more as the sides generally hanging out, such as in mind vs. heart, where it reads more as them spending time together in an unofficial, personal sense[if only because logic has the presence of mind that during any official capacity in which they would spend time together he probably wouldn’t be so loose-tongued as to let that joke slip] and other goofier, more personal moments. it’s hard to place the dark side of disney’s endcard between these possibilities for that reason; they’re goofing around, and it’s not so implausible to believe that they’re sticking around out of preference. aside from end-cards, which take a bit of a turn at the end of the season and fall almost completely into the ‘personal’, ‘unofficial’ setting, there’s more evidence of them spending time together off-camera in later episodes, after the familial progress. offscreen things like anxiety mentioning morality paid him a dollar to make a pun, a flashback from princey of him seemingly in the midst of a casual conversation with at least one other side[the one where he alludes to not being a huge jelly guy], and a bit further back, princey and morality revealing that they’d worked together on the holiday sweaters. furthermore, as less of an offscreen moment and less of an unofficial setting but still worth bringing up: morality’s appearance in losing my motivation. he shows up in costume to match logic’s, to help solve a problem he has no particular stake in[that we and they know of yet]. this can be attributed to a couple factors: he wants to be helpful, and he wants to spend time with logic. potentially that second factor is linked to him already feeling they have bonded from the then-recent mind vs. heart; their shared love of onesie pajamas[and wordplay, much as logic will deny it] causes morality to feel closer to logic, and wanting to spend more quality time. he’s the most sentimental side; it makes sense that morality would be the first to feel more personally attached to the other sides. and even though the events of lmm are problem-solving in an official capacity[by their standards], it’s also said to be playing[dress-up]. spending time together. morality’s sentimentality and attachment to other sides doesn’t end there. that is only the beginning. but further such declarations are less within the realm of quality time and more business hours, so let’s move on to our next focus.

i don’t care to think up a diegetic reason they all started showing up in the first place[the first episode relates directly to the audience with a fine mist of a 4th wall], but anxiety has been present too, since early on in the series. he barely misses out on any discussions, and that’s if you count the initial introduction as a discussion. and he makes good points at times, too. his initial episode is about how to work him down from a heightened state, but in future episodes, he offers legitimate arguments and good points. things like more realistic goals[he says he knows thomas’ limits, a fair assessment], saner plans, emotional insight, honesty that is brutal but ultimately helpful, and reflections on past events. he has issues at times with identifying the reasons behind some feelings, but anxiety is irrational[the feeling, not the character], and we can only guess how much insight he has into that anyway. what we know is that when he identifies problems, he really wants to be heard, and he’s not the best at telling whether problems he’s identified are as legitimate concerns as he’s guessed due to cognitive distortions. these are thoughts thomas has, and anxiety gives voice to. other sides, in the past, have been less willing to help with working through these concerns, and more willing to just shoot down anything he says on the grounds of he said it. and even if he has trouble with which hesitancies are reasonable, he’s worried about them ignoring actual problems if he doesn’t point them out. anxiety wants to be listened to, until he doesn’t. there are a few contributors to that, logic demonstrating his concern as being excessive, disparaging remarks about how unhelpful/relentlessly negative he is hitting home, how successful all their talks have actually been in solving problems, any number of these;very likely a combination. we shall focus on the third: they’ve all been communicating with one another, which has been helping a lot to work through problems. they are identifying problems, and solving them. anxiety feels that things they’ve said about him causing problems are right, and that he isn’t needed/is holding thomas back. but as mentioned, anxiety has been there since nearly the start, appearing just as often as anyone else. he’s been there throughout the developments the others have been making; as they all communicated, he was communicating too, and in fact contributed to the solutions of multiple problems. he’s been there all along as the family came together; he may feel like an outsider, but he’s as much a part of the group as anyone. morality’s card said family. the specific label was a product of sentiment[not inaccurate by any means though], but it was accurate in depicting them as a unit. they do work primarily as a unit from that point on.

now to address more recent events. deceit and the duke have made an appearance, the others[pros: accurate. cons: this is a word i want to use for other purposes, such as that one there], or ‘dark sides’[pros: distinctive. cons: reductive] have been confirmed to be a group. that said, they are only confirmed as a group, not a cohesive unit. who knows to what extent they communicate or operate as a team. there is still ambiguity, however, about whether they are more of a unit than the ‘light sides’[pros: distinctive. cons: exclusive] or famILY[pros: accurate. cons: unhelpfully inclusive, contains capital letters, sentiment-ridden] were before season one. no dark side we have encountered seems like the type to both have and act on the kind of sentimentality that attached morality to his family, but there is much greater evidence of them interacting offscreen before. yet that evidence shows no signs of particularly positive interactions. anxiety and deceit evidently know each other, but there's little evidence of what their past was actually like, and their interactions now are frigid, to say the least. deceit and the duke had a conversation about transparency, which was heavily paraphrased[i have to assume so at least] and occurred after deceit revealed himself in the first place. that seemed like less of a group decision and more an idea deceit had. furthermore, that idea seemed to be in response to events and actions on the part of the light sides. so who can say if the dark sides ever worked together. but it’s hard to imagine they’d have done so more than the light sides had been.

to be clear, my emphasizing morality as the one who declared them a family out of sentiment should not be read as disagreement with him saying so; i do not seriously believe anyone included in that family disagrees. he is the one who said it first, acted on it first, and initiated more of the social bonding. and referring to sentimentality as a factor should not be read as negative. that’s just what these are being attributed to. it’s a trait he has in spades, more than any other side, that contributes to his decision-making.

i know i said i was going to talk about self-love later, but that’s gonna be another time. besides, i have raw data to collect on that first.

i feel like i write more about the older episodes because they’re easier to parse, and i don’t know why. maybe it’s that they don’t have as many instances of people keeping their goals close to the chest. or it could be that they’re less of a time investment to rewatch. maybe the characters talking more like characters than people makes them speak less straightforwardly. maybe the fact that new episodes are caused by ‘real’[to character thomas] events and less about unprompted introspection is leaving some things to the imagination. maybe they’re trying to leave more to the imagination now! to be fair, imagining is fun. but insight lets me do things like this.

i did a whole separate section on virgil. to be fair, he could use the validation. he’s 100% a part of this family. plus, i’m not opposed to writing about other characters i love to the same extent. 8)

if you have thoughts about this, let me know! if you have questions, be assured i will be more upset if you don’t ask them than if you do.

#tabletech #sanders sides #i just have a lot of feelings #and this is how i articulate them #ocan't write this kind of thing for school because this endeavor is fuelled by love #and public education isn't actually conducive to my love of learning #vague analysis

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oceanmastertrash · 6 years

Text

the tides know our names- 3/?

gif courtesy of @patrickwilsoned

Summary: -takes place after the movie- Orm is working with Arthur to try to help Atlantis move forward when Elara has a vision of his death. As part of an order of Atlanteans dating back to the reign of King Atlan known as Tidewatchers, it is her duty to warn the king of her vision. Predicting and reading the future through the tides of fate has never been easy but Elara is in for the challenge of a lifetime working with her former king to save his life.

Part: 3/?

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: Strong language

Read on Ao3

Author’s Note: And we’re still going strong. Goodness, haven’t written a chapter a day since 2012. Thank you to the ones who have reblogged and liked my first two chapters! it really helps to know that others are in this journey with me. Now, with no more ado, let us away!

“What did you see, Elara?”

She took a breath and met his eyes, his haunting ocean eyes, then said plainly , “Your death, my Prince.”

Elara could have heard a strand of seaweed sway in the silence that followed. No one moved and all eyes were fixed squarely on her. She took a breath to steel herself, willing strength she didn’t feel as she braced for the first question.

“How does it happen?” Arthur asks.

Elara’s eyes had been locked on Orm but he looked away, which surprised her. She’d never thought him to be the type to flinch at discomfort, but suddenly he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but her king was not to be ignored.

“I saw an attack here, at the palace. I couldn’t see the attacker but they overpowered Vulko and his guards before finally stabbing the prince.” The memory was still so close and fresh, it would have been easy to let the emotion cloud her memory but she did her best to strip it away and leave only the facts.

She gave them a brief but comprehensive rundown of what she’d seen. Trying to relay anything pertinent while painfully aware of the limitations of her sight. The gravity in the room was palpable as they took it in.

“Could you tell if there was more than one assailant?” Vulko asked breaking the silence.

She closed her eyes in an effort to call up more details could but then opened them again and shook her head, “No. I’m sorry, it’s just not focused enough.”

She shot a brief glance to Orm but he said nothing, wouldn’t even look at Elara. Instead, he was looking down, his face in deep contemplation. The whirring of the gears in his mind was practically visible.

Arthur leaned forward, “okay, so explain to me again how this works with your visions. Is it like the attacker was blocked from view or something?”

The nature of Watching was widely varied but Elara knew that there had to be a way to help Arthur understand this. Then a most unique idea came to mind.

“You know how on the surface, action scenes in movies are filmed from a wide variety of camera angles?” She asked.

Surprise and recognition lit in his eyes, Orm, Mera and Vulko looked to her in confusion. Even though it was the first time Orm had looked at her since the revelation, she was strict in focussing solely on Arthur as he nodded.

“So you’ve got the wide shot, the close up of each of the actors and then various shots of any particular action of the fight. Well with visions, when they do come, it’s more like single camera home videos. There’s only one angle and sometimes the cropping is bad or it’s fuzzy, but that’s the shot you get.”

“And all you got this time was a close up,” he said with satisfaction which the tidewatcher met with a smile. It was normally much harder to explain these things to non-watchers.

“And in this case,” he continued, piecing it all together, “it was focused squarely on Orm.”

Elara felt a sudden shiver down her spine at the way he said it. It was certainly true but it felt different when he put it that way. She had to double her efforts to keep from looking at the prince as she kept her eyes on Arthur and nodded.

Arthur cracked a grin, “how the hell do you even know about movies and camera angles?”

“I’ve spent my fair share of time on the surface,” She answered with a grin at memories of movie theaters and popcorn.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?” he asks, seeming to try to prompt her into expanding on that statement.

“A few,” was all she replied because now was not the time, there were more pressing matters that required their attention. “Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to use any of those to hone more useful information from my vision.”

“Did you see the blade?” Orm suddenly asked, surprising her. It was the first time he’d spoken since hearing the vision and though Elara finally looked back to him she found him to be utterly unreadable. Though he met her gaze, he was far enough removed that it was impossible even for her with all of her skill at reading people to tell how he’d taken it. Somehow, be it his focus or the seriousness with which he’d listened, she could tell he had believed her, which, considering the last time she’d presented a pattern to him, was more than she’d expected.

“Yes, I saw it,” she answered, mirroring him and keeping her emotions at arm’s length.

“What did it look like?” Unreadable or not, he was a most intense presence with all of his attention was focused on her.

Elara swallowed but then steadied. This, at least she did know. “It was a short blade, more like a dagger or a knife. The handle almost looked like coral, it was crafted of gold with blue detailing.”

They all shared a look.

“What? You recognize it?”

Vulko sighed, and then pulled a knife from his belt, “You could say that.”

She immediately started, looking from the blade to Vulko and then to the others. No one else was alarmed, concerned yes, but no accusations flew, and no one was regarding Vulko any differently.

Vulko sensing her unease moved slowly as he made to hand the woman the blade. Very slowly, she took it verifying that it was just as she had seen. She fixed a bewildered stare upon the vizier once more.

“What you’re holding is the traditional blade of all Atlantean guards, soldiers, and council members.” Vulko said wearily.

Elara examined the details carefully taking in the fine cast of the blade, the small blue gem in the pommel, and found each aspect identical to the one she’d seen. As the realization of what this meant dawned on her, her countenance fell as she looked back to the group.

“Well shit.” she whispered and then immediately winced at the slip. So much for courtly manners.

Arthur, however let out a short bark of laughter. “Yep, that sounds about right.”

She paused a beat then asked, feeling more frustrated by the minute, “What can we do?”

“Well, it’s safe to say that arresting and detaining everyone that carries that blade is out.” Mera said.

“Yes, unless you want us arresting ourselves, we’re going to need another plan.” Vulko stated drily. “And there are far too many of them throughout the kingdoms to narrow anything down,”

Elara rubbed a hand against her temple, they were getting nowhere fast.

“I don’t suppose your home video had a timestamp on it?” Arthur asked.

“Nope,” she replied without opening her eyes

“Perhaps,” Mera began cautiously, “It might be prudent to try to figure out motives in order to identify the culprit.”

The tension levels skyrocketed in an instant. No, this would not be a happy discussion.

Either Vulko couldn’t feel the tension rolling off of Orm in that moment or he didn’t care because he was the first to speak, “It might be best to start with the tribes most affected by the siege.”

Orm said nothing but fixed Vulko with a hard stare.

“There have been complaints from representatives of both the Kingdom of Brine and the Fisherman tribe seeking compensation,” Mera said, though she didn’t have the same hardness as Vulko had. She said it almost hesitantly. She was trying to get to the bottom of this regardless of any awkwardness between them all. She certainly didn’t want Orm dead but some hard truths had to be faced.

Orm retained his silence though there was the slightest twitch in his neck when Mera had begun to speak. Elara could detect a measure of hurt in him, but it was only obvious to her because of her skill at tidewatching.

“But we’ve been working on that,” Arthur pointed out. “Isn’t that the point of all of these meetings over treaties we’ve been having? We are working on it.”

“Unfortunately,” Orm finally said, speaking slowly and carefully, “grievances like these are rarely solved through diplomacy alone.”

His words had weight behind them and some unreadable emotion Elara just couldn’t put her finger on. Though she had no claim to it, she wanted to know what was going through his head. How was he so calm about this vision? She didn’t know how she’d feel in his place but she admired the sheer control he displayed at not immediately taking charge in all this. He was doing his best to settle into his new role in the way of things while keeping his emotions about this incredibly personal prophecy perfectly in check. Elara had no idea how he did it, but supposed these were the things he might have learned from being king.

“No,” Vulko finally agreed, “They are not.”

Elara felt a flash of awkwardness. What was she still doing here? It wasn’t like she could offer much more help. All she could do was just rehash what tiny fragments she did have while the rest of them did the heavy lifting and deducing.

Elara was skilled at deduction but she just didn’t have enough details about the situation. She didn’t know Orm, not really. She’d known him as her King and she’d thought him a good one. He’d done great things for Atlantis, but everything she knew and learned involving his march to war against the surface was muddled and second hand. Sure, she’d glimpsed things through Tidewatching but some of that she wasn’t even sure had really happened and wasn’t just a fragmented possibility.

Times of great strife were the most difficult for Tidewatchers to untangle, especially with so many players involved. And it wasn’t like she could start quizzing the room about everything Orm had done that might have pissed someone off, any tiny action or slight that they might not even remember. There was just so much about all of this that Elara didn’t know- so much about Orm that felt unknowable. It was like they were two strands of a tapestry that would never entwine. All she could do in the meantime was search the tides for clues and enlightenment.

But, before she could speak and begin to extricate herself from this important discussion, there was a chime at the door that seemed to start everyone out of a stupor. It had begun to feel like this room had detached from everything else and the chime brought them back with a jolt.

Arthur gave permission and one of his attendants entered. The attendant seemed almost to be in a perpetual half bow as he addressed his king, “Forgive me, your majesty, the representatives of the tribes have assembled in the north wing.”

Arthur stared back at him for a minute, then looked to Mera, “Did we have another meeting today?”

“The Trade council you’d suggested yesterday,” she reminded him smoothly.

Arthur squinted and then his eyes popped open wider.

“Right!” he looked back to Mera, and then gestured to Elara and Orm. “Can we reschedule? This is important.”

Mera considered but advised, “It is, but it would be unwise to postpone the tribes. They are known to hold grudges.”

Arthur immediately sobered at that. Mera could see he understood and addressed the attendant, “Tell them we will be along shortly.”

The attendant bowed fully and then left. Elara could sense Orm’s utter distaste and discomfort for this whole situation, like he were a spectator of a game he used to coach.

“Sorry,” Arthur said, addressing the others. “We’re going to have to pick this up later.”

“We understand,” Elara said. “I should probably be leaving anyway.”

A frown crossed Arthur’s face at that but it was Vulko who spoke, “Actually I was thinking you might be willing to explore alternative ways of gleaning more information.”

She cocked her head. “What did you have in mind?”

“I once knew a Tidewatcher who would explore the areas pertinent to the pattern she was hoping to decipher. She said she was best able to coax more signs if she surrounded herself with what threads she knew.” he answered and Elara smiled.

“You knew Madren?” Elara asked in surprise. Madren was something of a grandmother to Elara in the tidewatcher family and one of her wisest teachers.

Vulko gave a small grin of remembrance, “I did. She was a very clever woman. I was hoping that either through proximity to Orm or surveying hallways like the one in your vision you might be able to see more.”

It was a good plan, and one she might have thought of, but Elara was hardly about to invite herself to tour the palace or become Orm’s shadow. And while neither was guaranteed to bear fruit, she wanted to help and this was better than just ruminating in the Tidewatcher temple.

She looked to Orm to see him regarding her warily, obviously as unsure of this plan as she was but he’d yet to scoff and refuse such an idea.

“It might help,” Elara agreed, not wanting to be too forceful.

“Great,” Arthur said, clapping his hands together as he stood. “You guys work on that and Mera and I will meet with the council and we’ll all reconvene this evening to see what we can figure out.”

Elara knew he must have many responsibilities but she liked that he was willing to put the time into this situation. It showed that, no matter how he might have met his brother or how tense things might be between them, he was still invested in keeping him alive and protecting Orm.

As the group rose, Elara realized she’d essentially just volunteered to spend the afternoon with Prince Orm. Definitely not where she thought she’d end up when she woke up this morning.

She looked to the prince, trying to figure out how she felt about this turn of events only to find he was looking back at her, seeming to do the same.

There were parting remarks as Arthur and Mera left the way Elara and the attendant had entered while Vulko led the tidewatcher and the prince out the other way. The guards fell into step behind them. And there she was, walking side by side with her former King. She resolved not to linger on that and instead began to focus on the task at hand.

“Where do you think we should start?” she asked, addressing Vulko.

“First,” he replied, “we should get Orm back to his quarters before we begin exploring possible sites for the vision.”

There was a slight tremor of resentment from Orm but it was a move that made sense. If they were trying to figure out where someone would try to kill him, it would hardly be prudent to take the intended target along.

No one spoke as they walked through the myriad of beautiful but identical halls. Elara made sure to keep her senses alert for shifts in the tides and could feel Orm and Vulko tense as well, both men wary of possible attack.

Elara wished they would speak, anything to break the tension but she couldn’t think of anything to say either that would help anything so she kept quiet and focused on listening to the tides. They’d travelling perhaps five minutes when she felt a ripple. It was a small thing, and she might not have even picked it up if she hadn’t been on high alert.

But, there on edge of her senses was a single taut thread. One sensation out of place in the swirl of ordinary palace life. She paused, trying to identify the meaning behind the sensation, the cause of errant thread. Orm noticed her hesitation and held out a hand to halt the guards behind them.

“What is it?” he asked and she squinted, deep in focus.

Hearing Orm’s question, Vulko stopped ahead of them.

Still feeling through the tides, she struggled to put into words what she’d sensed. It was such a small thing, like a single stone in a gravel road that was turned the wrong way.

“I-” Elara began but never got the chance to finish for suddenly the whole left side of the passage ahead exploded.

A/N: I know, I’m evil. Don’t worry, I’m already well into the next chapter but if you want to make sure I’m motivated, please reply or message me! I honestly live for feedback and would appreciate any you could give me! And if anyone wants to be tagged in the next update, let me know.

I also hope I’m doing a good enough job of explaining my idea of Tidewatching. Since it’s such an integral part of the story, I want to try to make it as understandable as I can while not just info dumping left and right. The idea of the Tidewatchers was a big reason why I started writing this story so I hope you find it interesting!

#king orm x oc #orm x oc #king orm #orm marius #ocean master #the tides know our names #tidewatcher fic #oceanmastertrash

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maimagazineblog · 6 years

Photo

MAI Wonder of the World - Michael Wilson

Today we turn our gaze to Australian creative director & photographer, Michael Wilson, who shares some of his hot tips on how to become a harder worker, what it is about cityscapes that makes them feel so darn special, and we find out if he would be at the front or the back of the line if life outside of earth were a viable option.

Read on for our full #interview

Hi Mike, so you mentioned that you began taking photographs as a way of capturing locations while you were working as a TV commercial director & that you are completely self-taught. Could you share with us one of your earliest on the job work experiences?

Sure thing. So one of the things that I learned pretty early on is that the more prep you do the less nervous you are. Simply visiting locations multiple times in diﬀerent lighting conditions, or looking at the scenes with and without a lens, and pre-visualising scenes by sketching and shooting test frames all helped me feel more confident and focussed come shoot day. On one of my first big jobs - think 45 person crew, multiple locations, months of post-production required - I’d prepared an extremely detailed, visual shot list with exact angles, lensing recommendations, performance cues etc. This level of prep not only gave the 15 clients on set confidence but also gave the crew a clear roadmap for each setup. It’s pretty standard stuﬀ, I know, but every job deserves it. And from that I learned that when everyone knows where you’re heading it’s easier to get their support and trust. Further to that, when you have a plan and capture it, it opens up the opportunity to creatively explore other options.

How long did it take you to start gaining recognition as a creative director and as a photographer, and what do you believe has most helped set you apart?

When I first started out I was told that you can’t always ‘out-think’ people but you can ‘out-work’ them. It might be a boring and unpopular thing to say, but hard work is what helped me get noticed.

“ I figured that focus, perseverance, dedication and a little obsession would eventually pay oﬀ.”

I’m also my own harshest critic, so when people told me my work was good I’d go back to the drawing board and try to make it great. It sounds cliched I know, but it got me into a mindset that was constantly focussed on improving my work. I was also lucky enough to be surrounded by great people who were willing to share their collective wisdom. All I had to do was put my ego in my back pocket and be willing to listen and learn.

You live and work in Australia, but a lot of your cityscapes have a real universal likeness to them… What is it about these types of locations that particularly attracts you?

Oh thank you, that’s really kind of you to say. That’s exactly the feeling I’m trying to capture. The cinematographer Roger Deakins (Fargo, Blade Runner 2046), director David Fincher (Se7en, Gone Girl) and photographer Nadav Kander are all major influences on my work. They create scenes that evoke a feeling, an atmosphere, and ultimately a reaction. This is my/the ultimate goal and what attracts me to certain locations over others. I’m aiming to create images that have a cinematic quality to them, moments that are bedded in a world that have a universal connection and are not merely documentation. To do this I rest heavily on light, shadow, time of day, mist and fog, reflected sunlight and the structure and design of modern-day canyons in our cities.

Something that caught our attention recently on your Instagram account is your primary use of yellow, orange, and black color palettes… What has been drawing you to this particular color spectrum and how much of your work is photo manipulated?

This all started after I read a quote from Stanley Kubrick - and I paraphrase badly here - but apparently primary colours evoke primal moods. That notion resonated with me, after-all I’m less interested in documenting a building and more excited by my ability to evoke a mood. As I mentioned earlier, Roger Deakins has a major influence over my work. His use of silhouette, primary colours, and scenes drenched in colour and atmosphere is inspirational and the gold standard as far as I’m concerned. So with those colour cues in mind

“I developed a series based on the idea of ‘would you miss me when I’m gone?’ i.e. what if the places you pass by every day were about to disappear - hence the apocalyptic colour palette - would you look at them diﬀerently?”

So this particular spectrum was born out of the concept and designed to serve the storytelling. Truth be told, the more I worked with these warm tones the more I felt I was creating a distinct point of view. To bring these tones to the fore I start by shooting in warm light - most often dusk - and I adjust my in-camera white balance to as warm as I feel necessary. This usually takes care of those warmer tones. In terms of the use of black, dusky light generally delivers lots of deep shadows. Therefore, a large majority of my image creation is taken care of in-camera. If I get this right, then my time in Lightroom is minimal. In general, I spend no more than 10 minutes on a image. Most of it is taken up balancing the desire to see detail in shadows versus creating a slightly surreal world full of simple silhouettes. If you scroll through my Instagram feed you’ll see a variation of orange and yellow tones. This shows how each image is a response to the time of day it was shot, light values and atmospheric conditions. I do get a lot of questions asking if I ‘build’ the cityscapes in Photoshop, or add fog etc.

“Part of the challenge for me is working with the elements in front of me - the light, the city, the weather - and so adding elements in post-production takes that challenge away.”

In some ways I wish I could add more fog or rain or other atmospheric items - it’d save me having to shoot in bad weather - but I just don’t have that level of expertise.

Do you have a preference to digital over analog photography and why?

That’s such a tough question. On one hand I absolutely love shooting on film. It’s sharpened my technical skills, helped me shoot less but better images, taught me to slow down and really think about each frame. Further to that, shooting with film cameras has a certain ‘feel’ to it. I love the solidity, the mechanics and the weight of them.

“I tend to shoot my more personal stuﬀ on film”

Rroad trips, portraits of friends and family, important moments in life, times that already have a certain nostalgia attached to them. And on the other hand, digital gives me certainty.

Name something weird or defining that only where you live has?

I’ve had the opportunity to live in London, Amsterdam, Auckland, Sydney, Adelaide and now Melbourne. All of which have pretty defining quirks. But as a photographer whose work relies heavily on the weather, Melbourne is easily the most dynamic I’ve experienced. It embodies the ‘four seasons in one day’ notion and is predictably unpredictable. And this is a good thing, for me at least. Anything that brings drama and atmosphere to my images is welcome.

Now for some quick questions for fun...

Who is your favorite family member and what’s so good about them?

I have two boys, so if I pick a favourite I’m sure that my life expectancy would be greatly reduced.

If they discovered life on another planet meaning that you could feasibly move there, would you be one of the first or one of the last to head over and check it out?

As much as I’d like to be first, I’m not so keen on being the canary down the mine.

What television series are you streaming right now?

I just finished the incredible Sharp Objects and the very tense second series of Ozark. So now I’m on the hunt for a dose of Nordic Noir.

To more Mike follow him on:

Instagram

Website

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widgenstain · 6 years

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i hope this doesnt sound creepy but what were your thoughts on submergence? I love reading movie reviews/rants about my faves (jamesy)

Lol, no,not creepy at all, I wanted write a few words after I saw it two weeks (?) agoanyway, but got distracted. I hope this doesn’t disappoint you though! Not so many positive opinions here!

(light spoilers under the cut)

The best word to sum up my feelings about this is“meh”. I expected the worst after reading some reviews but it wasn’tTHAT bad. It wasn’t good either though. I felt pretty vindicated in myassessment from January 2016 ; Submergence isn’t abook that translates well on screen. And they didn’t even try very hard. Boy, thatscript is bad…

Sceneslifted directly from the book that anyone with even the tiniest understandingof how good narratives work would have changed, or at least tried to make morefilmable. Instead we got this mess; long, clunky, scientific dialogue thatworks as a build-up in the book but needed to be cut short in the movie andmore importantly: focussed on the message and motives behind it! What does it mean to behuman, to live in certain social structures and how insignificant are we andthose social structures really in the big picture? You don’t have to explain the layers of the Ocean if you can’t get across how vast they really are and what that vastness is meant to symbolise!

Thedirection doesn’t clear anything up either. It’s so inconsistent in its levelsof subtlety. Especially in the parts that take place in France it needed to be waymore obvious; what attracts these two people to each other? THE importantquestion in a romance!

In the bookit’s intellectual understanding and fascination with the other person’sapproach to topics like love, death, religion etc.. I wasn’t kidding in my earlierpost when I said that in the book they aren’t really characters, but voices for differentworld views that somehow still see their similarities and learn from eachother. The whole thing is supported by their weirdly intertwining heritage andlife story; she’s a biracial cosmopolitan who explores the seas his ancestors sailed,before he became a spy in Africa, who’s deeply involved with Eastern Africanconflicts.

In the movie?Yeah, that first part doesn’t come across whatsoever. They try, but it’s fartoo subtle and the script doesn’t capture the differences/similarities at all. Theyprobably realised that, so they added a lot of sex scenes instead. I was veryworried for them but they’re actually fine.They’re notreally well-matched physically, James looks way older than Alicia (well, he is,widge) but they do have chemistry. Is it the chemistry the movie needs though? No,it’s not.

I totallycan see them as two people who met at a nice hotel on the Atlantic coast and thought“hey u cute!” “hey, u cute too, let’s have some really good sex since we’reboth people who are so good at sex.” And after the three days, they went their ways andmaybe thought of each other during a wank session or two.

It’s notthe chemistry of a couple where he thinks of her in the worst moments of his lifeand she in the most triumphant yet terrifying ones.

As for the intertwiningheritages? They actually wrote, shot, edited and left in a scene in which hetalks about her being such a “mongrel” of Swedish and Australian heritage. Noone in that whole process noticed the disconnect or the freaking white-washing!Wim Wenders deserves a few punches in the nuts for that.

As for theacting, yeah… I’m not a fan of Alicia, there I said it. I don’t subscribe tothe hate the Fassbender fans/haters/toxically obsessed creeps (who keeps upwith this these days?) throw at her but I sincerely do. not. understand. how shemade it as far as an actress as she has.

Still, she is ok in this, she showsmore than her usual three expressions and some actual emotions. That doesn’ttake away from the fact that she acts in scenes, not in movies. She’s onecharacter in one scene, another in the next. It - weirdly enough - works bestin the sex scenes where they allowed her to be an unusually tomboyish character,not the ultra-feminine seductress you’d expect in such context. She feels more or less natural and ok in them.

She’s farless believable as the career-driven and respected-by-her-peers scientist andit’s the absolute worst in the “phone” scenes. To be fair the script fucks herover in these as well, turning Danny, a stoic woman of science about to go onthe biggest adventure of her career, into a bawling teenage girl, who’s upsetthat the guy she had really good sex with doesn’t reply to her calls.

A betteractress than her would have struggled with that garbage too, but with her scene-actingit really feels like you’re watching someone completely different each time. Addthe gloomy goth girl rambling about suffocating in really inappropriate momentsand you’ve got your stitched together Frankenstein character.

James of course knows how to portray a coherent character, but he isn’tat the height of his game either in the beginning. He’s a bit stiff, the whole spy stuff is thankfully short because it feels like an artsy-fartsydirector trying and failing to do James Bond, and the scenes in captivity would have hit much harder if you’d gotten WHY he adores her so and whispers “OH DANNY” all so dramatically.

I mean, I get thatmovie!James is trying to hang on to his sanity as best as he can, but why think of that random girlhe had really good sex with in France? Why not his mother, his best friend or, ffs, his housekeeper in Nairobi he’s known for more than 3 days?! The film doesn’tget this across and it’s sad (I’m also convinced the editor hated them. Herflashbacks show him squinting unattractively and his flashbacks show her from areally unfortunate angle.)

However, hisacting is top notch in the pivotal scene when movie!James’ captors send him into thewater to shoot him. It starts out all dramatic but then he takes it and turnsit into this absolutely painful, human moment where he yanks the audience’sheart out and crushes it like he’s wont to do. Man is he good. From that on Ilike the movie.

The interactions with the doctor (helloooo Julian Bashir, didn’tknow you were in this!) are the best scenes in the book as well and they’reexcellent. Nothing is black and white, how different can the lessons differentpeople take from the same situations be, etc.? It’s great.

Except whenthe movie suddenly throws all subtlety overboard. There’s a scene where a womangets stoned and instead of focusing on the fucking amazing acting that goes on onJames’ and Alexander Siddig’s faces it has to ram the pointhome with the silliest effects. It’s such a waste of two excellent actors with an amazingly uncomfortable chemistry.

Still, the scenes with the extremists are awesome. Too short and I don’t think the movie audience really gets how intriguingReda Kateb’s character really is, but they’re part of a movie that could havebeen great. Pity that wasn’t the whole movie.

I was a bitconfused after Tiff last year where Wenders said that he changed the ending butI don’t think he really has? Both are open in ways, but not really. I liked theending in the book and I liked it in the movie, super kitschy lifetime movieshots of Danny aside.

Anotherpositive thing I noticed was the light. Whoever did that really understood whatto do with the beautiful people in front of the camera and how to tell thefreaking story. I swear, the light on her face as he leaves the hotel, in hisprison and in her sub does a far better job at connecting them and explainingthe motives than script and direction together! I hope that light person got paid a ridiculously high amount of money and gets to do more movies.The script person should find another day job though and Wenders should stick todocumentaries from now on.

In short:Meh. Not gonna buy the DVD but maybe will check it out another time when/if itcomes along on Netflix and see if my opinion changes.

#submergence #james mcavoy #reviews #more like rambling words #teehee #intowhiteness #we talked about this #rant rant rant #whitewashing

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meenasmoon · 7 years

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Renegades Ch 4: White Wedding

It’s.....alive!!!! Yes I’ve been AWOL. I know. But school is hard guys. Haha. My inspiration was completely drained until this moment. Enjoy my babies going super spy.

‘The boredom is killing me. Why are weddings so long?’ Johnny’s earpiece crackled to life, stirring him from the daze that he had fallen into. He had been vigilant until about halfway through the ceremony when the words that the priest droned out meshed together and his eyelids grew heavy.

He chuckled quietly to himself from his position and glanced up towards the balcony where he knew Ash was expertly concealed. He pressed his finger to his earpiece, feigning an important conversation.

‘Tell me abaht it. This is why I’ll nevah get married.’ He whispered and Ash immediately fired back, obviously desperate for some conversation.

‘Are you sure it’s not because you can’t find a willing girl?’ She snarked but Johnny just snorted and smirked to himself.

‘Are ya kiddin’ ? I’ve got plenty of choices.’ He adjusted his tuxedo, knowing that Ash could see him even if he couldn’t find her.

‘Believe me I know. Everyone knows about you Mr. Lady Killer. Too bad I’m immune to your charms.’ They went silent for a second as Johnny scanned the pews, carefully examining each person for signs of an imminent attack. When he found none he returned to the conversation that was keeping him awake.

‘And ‘ow exactly is tha’ possible.’ He said quietly.

‘Well most girls fall for the accent, the good looks, or the job title but me....well I was at the academy the same time you were. So I know you’re just a big dork.’ Johnny could practically hear the smirk in her tone and he frowned, his pride slightly wounded that a girl as pretty as Ash wasn’t susceptible to his charms. Just as quickly, he decided that he would just have to make do with her friendship instead. His choice was proven correct when she made her next comment.

‘But I’ve definitely got some tips for ya.’ And with that the deal was sealed, they were friends, partners. It probably shouldn’t have been that easy but Johnny had a hard time finding anyone in the agency who wasn’t interested in getting him into bed or wasn’t jealous of his success. But Ash was neither attracted to him nor intimidated so it was easy for them to fall into a rapport as they weathered the longest wedding ceremony on Earth.

Finally the wedding reached its climax and the crowd perked up as the couple said their vows and leaned in for a chaste, political kiss. Johnny rolled his eyes at the way that the bride blushed and almost every woman in the chapel swooned. That is, every woman except for the Latina in his ear who was dramatically gagging. Johnny desperately held back his laughter, deciding that a smile was probably a better choice considering his position in front of the guests.

He almost jumped a foot when Buster’s voice interrupted Ash’s dramatics, 'Sorry to interrupt your.... conversation agents but Agent Jones is going to be taking over tactical from now on so I can observe your ability to follow her directions. Please try to remember that this is still an evaluation of your skills.’

Johnny had the decency to remain in sheepish silence but Ash was not quite so tactful, 'What gives? You’re not evaluating the Almighty Agent Jones?’ She grumbled and Johnny could practically hear the tense frustration coming from Buster’s side of the comm.

'Agent Jones does not need to be evaluated because I have already observed her skills in the past.’ Something about his tone shut Ash up before she could voice another protest and there was a slight beep as control was transferred from Buster to the mysterious Agent Jones.

From the way that Buster described their experience Johnny was expecting an old crone who spent her entire life behind computers, barking orders and generally being a pain in the ass of the younger agents so he was expecting the sweet, slightly tentative voice that replaced Buster.

'Hello Agents. I’ve been monitoring the cameras in the chapel as well as the banquet hall where the reception will be held and I’ve determined that the best point for anyone to strike would be between the two locations.’ She was all business but Johnny could feel his inner tomcat purring at the prospect of seducing whoever was on the other side of that honey-filled voice.

'Agent Fitch. I’ve been going over the building specs for the church and I’m sending you your new position now. From there you’ll be able to monitor the street and surrounding buildings for anything suspicious.’ Ash grumbled a reluctant affirmative and the comm line was momentarily filled with the sounds of her scuffling as she moved positions.

'Agent Bannerton. Stick with the bride and groom and evaluate the crowd from ground level. I’ll be on all traffic cams as back up but I need you to blend and give me a read.’

Johnny felt his smile curling into the salacious smirk that usually made women weak in the knees.

'Roger tha’ Angel.’ He said snarkily and for a moment he was filled with satisfaction as the comm line was dominated by a startled sort of silence.

'W-we’ll um... yes well. Where was I?’ Agent Jones sputtered as she tried to regain control of her train of thought that he had successfully derailed.

'Um... I think Gunter and I were next.’ Rosita piped up helpfully and suddenly they were serious again.

'Yes yes. Of course. Agent Tenny if you would please be my eyes on the street. And Agent...Gunter um I need you on standby for a quick getaway. If this goes south I need you to secure the assets and get them to the safe zone.’

'Da! Ve are ready to party!’ Gunter burst out happily and Rosita nervous laugh could be heard in the background. This time Agent Jones didn’t miss a beat as she brushed off the unorthodox reply and the comms went silent as everyone held their breath in anticipation. The church was suddenly bursting with a cacophony of clapping and cheers as the couple kissed and began to make their way out of the church.

Johnny scanned the wedding party for an in and smirked to himself when he spotted a bored looking blonde draped on the arm of an equally bored groomsman. Johnny smoothly slipped in between them, breaking the groomsman’s loose hold easily. The groomsman gave him a bewildered glare but Johnny just winked at the bridesmaid and began escorting her down the aisle, only one couple between them and the assets.

“Hi.” His attention was momentarily drawn to the woman who was clinging tightly to his arms so that her bust was pressed alluringly against him. He spared her a charming smile and couldn’t resist laying on a pick up line.

“Well ‘ello there. I thought I’d better save ya before ya died of boredom eh?” She let out a high pitch giggle and gazed up at him with a classic look that let him know she was hanging on his every word. He winked at her and turned his attention back to the couple as they made their way out of the church and into the bright light of the waiting day.

Johnny blinked quickly as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden onslaught of daylight and once his eyes adjusted his attention turned to the crowd that was eagerly waiting for them to emerge. The onlookers were a mix of strangers and family members, as expected for a celebrity event, something that only made their job more difficult. Johnny winced slightly as they came to the top of the stairs and he got a clear view of the extent of the crowd. He tried to mutter subtly into the comm, ‘Angel ya got eyes on this crowd?'

He heard a stuttered gasp from the other end before he got a slightly less tentative reply, 'I’m um… I’m monitoring from all angles. You focus on the people closest to the assets.’ Johnny didn’t say anything as he returned to his survey of the crowd. Time seemed to slow down as the comm crackled in his ear once more and Ash’s low whisper echoed in his ear.

'I’ve got a bad feeling guys.’

That was when Johnny saw him. His clothes allowed him to blend in with the crowd but where everyone else was cheering and throwing rice, his face was impassive and the dark lenses of his sunglasses were focussed on the newlyweds. He smiled casually but every muscle in his body was tensed in anticipation.

'Ash. My right, sunglasses, dark coat, scar on the cheek. Ya got eyes on ‘im?’ There was a pause and up in the upper area of the choir seats Ash shifted her position so that her sights were trained on the crowd where Johnny had indicated. She scanned slowly and then stopped when she finally found the suspect.

'Yeah Pretty Boy I got eyes. He’s mighty suspicious I’ll give you that.’ Ash watched from above as the man suddenly reached in his coat pocket and began to advance through the crowd towards the bride and groom.

'Johnny. He’s advancing and…’ she broke off as she watched him pull his hand out of his pocket, his fingers wrapped around, 'Gun. He’s gotta gun.’

Ash barely had the words out when suddenly a signature cracking sound echoed through the street and a burning piece of metal buried itself into her shoulder with such force that she was thrown back from the window. All she could do for the first few seconds was listen to the panic below, the noises muffled as if they were coming from far away instead of the street below her. Her shoulder let out a particularly painful throb and the jolt of agony was enough for her to center back in on the mission. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a slightly strangled gasp. Another shot rang out and she gritted her teeth so she could force the words out to her scrambling teammates.

'I got… another sniper…. I’ve been hit.’ She gasped out before slumping back down onto the ground, trying to relieve the sudden lightness in her head. Her comm was a flurry of action as Agent Jones rapid fired orders to the rest of the team but she only heard whispers instead of commands.

Down on the street Johnny shook off his impromptu escort and grabbed the new couple by the arm, pushing forcefully through the crowd as people scattered left and right, trying to escape the invisible gunman. Gunter’s black SUV screeched to a stop half on the curb in front of them and Johnny pushed the couple into the backseat just as a bullet hit the thick bulletproof glass where the Duke’s head had been mere seconds before. In the same moment that Gunter tore away from the curb Rosita leapt out of the SUV with a medkit and disappeared into the crowd.

Johnny didn’t have time to think about where she was headed as Agent Jones barked out instructions for him, urging him to pursue the escaping suspect. He took a step forward just as another bullet buried itself in the concrete step, missing his head by mere inches. Reflexively he ducked down, trying to avoid the sniper while he ran. He could barely see through the throng of panicked civilians, but thankfully Agent Jones was in his ear, guiding him until finally he burst from the group and onto the street.

He caught sight of the suspect jogging down the sidewalk, still trying to remain undetected, and went running, pursued only by a flurry of sniper shots that he could feel burning on his heels. He cursed aloud and looked up wildly at the buildings around him for the source of the gunfire, but the chaos masked it perfectly.

The metallic smell of blood and gentle but firm hands on her back brought Ash back from the edge of oblivion. She could hear her blood pounding angrily in her ears but it slowly faded out to be replaced by the sound of Agent Jones imploring her to answer her comm. Her vision cleared gradually and she was met with the frustrated face of Rosita Tenny as she furiously dug through the medkit with one hand and put aching pressure on her wound with the other.

'What?’ Ash croaked into her comm as she gave Rosita a half-hearted glare. It went ignored so she just wriggled irritably and glanced towards where her precious rifle lay skewed carelessly on the floor.

There was a sigh of relief on the other side of the comm before Agent Jones spoke once more, 'Agent Fitch. I need you to take out the sniper. Can you do that?’ Ash groaned and batted Rosita’s hands away from her when the older woman tried to stop her from getting to her feet. Ash stubbornly pulled herself over to the window, her bad arm dangling limply at her side.

“Fuck.” She muttered when pain lanced through the right side of her body like hot iron but she stubbornly ignored it in favor of propping her rifle up between her good shoulder and the window sill. Stubbornly Rosita continued to tend to her arm while she set up, muttering to her self all the while about stubborn young agents. Ash leaned her cheek into the familiar cold metal of the gun and took a deep steady breath. Her brain immediately focused in on her scope and only her scope, Rosita’s firm grip and even her pain fading out until it was only her and her rifle.

'I’m on it.’ She whispered and slowly scanned the rooftops, hunting for her prey. Just when the world was at its stillest and even her breathing had stopped another shot rang out and she was filled with a sense of intoxicating satisfaction.

“Gotcha ya bastard.”

She breathed in, her finger pressed down on the trigger, and then with a click and a spray of blood her revenge was complete. She carefully set aside her rifle and let the world fade back in. Rosita carefully propped her up against a wall and ripped open her shirt so that she could dig out the bullet lodged in her shoulder.

“This is gonna hurt sweetheart.” Rosita warned as she doused a needle with antiseptic and carefully threaded the medical stitching through it.

“Yeah yeah just get on with it.” Ash rolled her eyes and Rosita chuckled.

Johnny’s heart was pounding like a drum as he ran, the asphalt pounding against his feet with every step. The suspect obviously had a planned escape route and probably would have been lost to him by now if it wasn’t for an Angel’s voice in his ear telling him where to go. Never once in his life had Johnny been so grateful for traffic cameras. He turned a corner and found himself on a long straightaway, the suspect erratically weaving in and out of people on the sidewalk in an effort to throw him off. But this was where Johnny felt power surge through his limbs and he sped up until her was mere feet away from his quarry.

The man looked behind him and when he saw Johnny almost within arm’s distance he panicked and swerved into a nearby alley.

’The alley is dead end. Subdue him. Don’t kill him.’ Johnny laughed breathlessly as he slowed his run to a jog and cracked his knuckles.

‘Love it when ya talk sweet ter me Angel.’ He teased and advanced on the suspect who by now had realized that he was trapped and was glaring at him, fists raised at the ready.

“Big mistake.” He chuckled and like lightning his fist shot out and slammed into the man’s face like a hammer. His entire body bounced from the force of the shot and he stumbled backwards in an attempt to keep his balance. His sunglasses, however, did not survive the hit and fell onto the pavement, a shattered mess.

The man lunged forward and threw a couple of quick punches that Johnny deftly avoided, chuckling to himself the whole time. The suspect looked at him in confusion but Johnny just shrugged and gave him a crooked, cocky grin. He landed a solid kick to the man’s knees, sending him stumbling back once more, this time with a pronounced limp.

“Ya kna what? I’m gettin’ bored. And I wouldn’t wanna miss the cake at the reception.” He lunged forward and grabbed the man by his jacket, forcing him into a bent over position from which he kneed him in the gut before pulling him back up and battering him with barrage of punches. He delivered one last upper cut to his opponent before the man fell back onto the pavement with a solid thump.

Johnny blew on his fists like an old time cowboy and smirked at no one in particular. He pulled a zip tie out of his pocket and bound his unconscious opponent. He then proceeded to dust himself off as he dragged the suspect to the mouth of the alley. He looked around at the street where the civilians were being cleared out and a clean up team was arriving to pick up the suspect.

Johnny strolled happily down the street, searching casually for an available cab to the reception.

“Now tha’s wot I call a weddin’.”

#sing the movie #johnny sing #meena sing #ash sing #gunter sing #rosita sing #buster sing #secret agent au #renegades #ch 4 #johnny x meena

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curliesallovertheplace · 7 years

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The New Princess - chapter 12

Pairing: Dean x reader, modern prince!Dean AU

Summary: You look exactly like the princess of Genieve who is promised to marry the prince of your country, Prince Dean. But what happens if the princess doesn’t want to marry him and meets you, her look-a-like?

Words: 3600ish

Warnings: nada

A/N: This series is back on the road and with me having 2 months of vacation I’m hoping to start posting regularly! Here you have chapter 12 (finally). I really hope you enjoy. Thank you guys for being patient with me and my fucked up posting.

Previous chapter | The New Princess Masterlist

A deep breath in and out, your ankles crossed under your seat according to etiquette rules, your skirt neatly pleated, your hands carefully placed on your lap. Bela stepped back after she had adjusted a strand of your hair and nodded approvingly at the sight before her. “Perfect. Now if you would be so kind to keep that posture, your Highness, and answer the questions like we agreed on, then everything should be fine,” she said, her nerves settling down slightly.

You glanced behind the PR-manager. A large camera was focussed on you and an interviewer ran over the questions one more time with Chuck. “Alright, your Highness, we are ready when you are,” the latter announced. You nodded your head ever so slightly, scared to ruffle your hair or even move. The interviewer took place in her seat across from yours and smiled at you, introducing herself as Catherine Peters.

“Welcome to Royalty. I’m your host Catherine Peters and today I’m joined by the princess of Genieve, the fiancée of crown prince Dean of Boldovia. Welcome, your Highness,” she started off the interview and turned her attention towards you.

“Good morning, Mrs. Peters,” you smiled. She had something calming about her, soothing your nerves almost instantly.

“How are the preparations coming along for the wedding of the year?”

Your smile wavered a bit even though you had rehearsed these questions in advance, Bela repeating the answers over and over. Mrs. Peters mouthed a ‘breath’ and you regained your composure. “The wedding has been arranged to the finest details and I cannot wait for the day to arrive. It has been a joy to be involved in the preparations, especially with my fiancé by my side.” The interviewer gave you a quick thumbs up, her gesture reassuring. You decided to just focus on her and ignore Bela who stood behind the cameras. She was flapping her arms around, her frantic movements anything but calming.

“Could you tell us something about your dress? Everyone has been curious as to how the gown will look.”

“The dress is stunning if I may say so myself. Julian Mendes is the designer and he did a marvelous job at constructing the wedding gown. It is definitely an eyecatcher, fit for a Princess. The finishing touches are put on it as we speak.” You nearly had to puke at the posh tone you were using. The answers sounded like you had studied them in for a pop quiz, which wasn’t too far off of the truth. Bela had made you alter the timbre of your voice until it sounded ridiculous to your ears, but by her approving looks you must be doing something right.

Mrs. Peters continued her questions about the wedding and soon ended the interview. You thanked her for the interview before you got up and stretched your legs. Your limbs felt numb, a dull ache settling in from holding that uncomfortable posture. Your eyes landed on the Prince who entered the room. He strode towards the chair to start his part of the interview.

“Can I borrow your stick?” he chuckled when you passed each other. With a frown you turned towards him, rolling the stiffness out of your bones one last time. He pointed to your shoulders as he continued. “Your posture was really good and no one can do that without a stick stuck to their back. I swear my body is like a sack of potatoes. I can’t sit up straight like that!” You laughed along with him before pretending to stretch and pull an imaginary stick from your back.

“Here you go, your Highness. Your new personal posture stick,” you goofed around.

Dean gratefully accepted it and stuck it to his back, instantly standing up straighter. “How do I look?” he grinned as he tilted his chin upwards.

“Hot, with a shitload of cockiness and a stick up your ass,” you quickly replied, your voice low enough for only him to hear. When the words settled in and he wanted to reply, you had already scurried off into the corridors of the palace. “I did not just call him hot,” you softly repeated to yourself. If you would go over those words over and over, you might actually start believing them.

“Ellie, wait up,” a deep voice called out for you. You halted your steps and turned around to see Benny walking over to you. You prayed he hadn’t just heard you mumbling to yourself like a crazy person. “I need to take you to Julian.”

“Not for that wedding dress I hope,” you cut off his sentence. Ellie’s bodyguard chuckled as he gently placed a hand on your arm, guiding you to the styling room.

“It’s your ball gown for tonight.” He shook his head at the frown settling on your forehead, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’re always so up to date. Let’s go, princess.”

“Oh right, the royal birthday party thingy,” you smiled, proud that your brain caught up. Charlie had mentioned something about it earlier that morning but in your sleepy haze, you barely registered it. It was Jessica, prince Sam’s girlfriend, her birthday and when a royal turns a year older, an elaborate ball must be organised.

Together with Benny you moved towards Julian’s tailor room, the man dropping you off in front of the door. With a swoosh the wood disappeared and an excited tailor stood in front of you. “Darling, you are going to looove this,” Julian smirked, stretching his words for an extra dramatic effect. You raised your eyebrows in a curious way and glanced at Benny. The man held back an amused smirk.

“Well, darling, show me what I’m going to looove,” you mimicked Elizabeth’s designer as you turned your attention back to him. Julian ushered you into the room but blocked the way for your bodyguard.

“Oh, hot stuff, no room for you here. But you can always come by later tonight for your personal fitting,” he winked at Benny before closing the door in the latter’s very confused and flushed face. “What? He’s got one fine ass.” You laughed at your stylist, loving his open bluntness. “But enough about your bodyguard’s perfect squeezable delicious assets. Let’s put you in your dress.”

His excitement was contagious and soon you joined into his happy demeanor. At his order you closed your eyes, waiting for his signal to open them again. You blinked a few times to get used to the light again and took in the gorgeous gown he was holding in front of you. The beautiful fabric made your body all giddy. With a little help from Julian you changed into the dress and admired yourself in the mirror.

The dark blue material was cut the accentuate your curves, fitted to your forms and flaring out at the bottom. The back had a low cut, ending half down your back and the three quarter sleeves were made of sheer lace. The neckline was conservative to make up for the sexy style. Perfect for a princess in the public eye, yet still enough vavavoom the match your youthful spirit. Like Julian said: “You’re not a nun from the monastery.”

“I love it, Julian,” you gasped as you turned around to look at the dress from every angle. “Thank you.” The smile on his face matched yours. The joy sparkling in your eyes was all he needed as a reward.

A knock on the door pulled you from your trance. The tailor sauntered over towards the door, barely opening it and peeking through the crack. “Darlings, you’re right on time,” he exclaimed. He swung open the doors dramatically and ushered Jo and Charlie into the room before locking the doors behind them.

“Damn, girl! If Dean doesn’t jump you tonight, I’m gonna steal you from him,” Charlie gasped. “Too bad you aren’t swinging that way though.” You chuckled at her comment, feeling very flattered, a blush creeping up your cheeks at the mention of the Prince.

Jo’s mouth was hanging open in astonishment before she nodded in approval. “Julian, darling, if our dresses look half as good, I’m going to be over the moon. It’s so beautiful I’m actually jealous of Y… Ellie,” she corrected herself at the end. Thankfully the designer hadn’t noticed her slip-up nor the sudden change in atmosphere, too busy elaborating about Jo and Charlie’s dresses. Both you and the redhead glared in her direction, the latter mouthing a ‘sorry’.

“You coming to fit your dress, Jo? Charlie is already admiring hers,” Julian questioned as he stepped up behind you, loosening the zipper.

“Yeah, sure,” she cleared her throat.

The tailor helped you out of the gown and gave you a robe to wear in the meantime. “I called for Ruby and Meg. They will do your hair and makeup,” he rambled on as he placed your gown onto its hanger. “I swear they made some kind of deal with the devil because their skills, few, oh boy. To die for.” With those words he vanished to a side room where Charlie and Jo were waiting.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, filled with brushes, powders and bobby pins. Meg worked her magic on your hair, creating an intricate updo. In the meantime Ruby focussed on your nails, shaping them to perfection, coating them in a shiny beige polish. You admired the clean finished product, while both women took care of your makeup. The last finishing touches were added once you had put on your dress, Julian fixing your sleeves and jewelry one last time. Nearly three hours later and Ellie’s stylist finally gave you a green light to leave and go to the party. He had been running around with dresses and suits all afternoon, meeting up with queen Alexandra, prince Dean and some of the other royals in the palace.

“Your man won’t be able to keep his hands off of you. Just wait with making a new royal until after the wedding,” he winked, leaving you flabbergasted. Charlie and Jo stifled their laughters behind you. “What a scandal it would be! I think your mother would have a heart attack!” The dramatic tone in his voice made you shake your head, a smile forming on your lips. The tailor opened the door for you and behind the wooden panels your two favorite bodyguards were waiting. Gadreel, Benny and another man escorted you and your friends towards the ball room.

The closer you got towards the room, the louder the music resonated through the corridors. The melody, played on strings, reached your ears, a delighted grin forming on your lips. It sounded just like you imagined as a little girl, how it was portrayed in countless movies. The music was regularly interrupted by a male voice as he announced the arrival of the guests.

“Great, just in time,” Bela smiled as you turned the corner. Your eyes landed on Dean and you couldn’t help but block out everything around you except for him. You gasped audibly as you took in his appearance. Yes, you had seen him in a suit before, but not in his official royal outfit and damn did he rock it! His clothes consisted of a general navy blue suit with a simple white shirt and a dark green sash draped over one shoulder and knotted at his hip. A number of golden embellishments were pinned on his vest, patterns embroidered on the sash.

You came back to the real world when the Prince hooked his arm through yours. “You look gorgeous tonight, Ellie, absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his eyes trained on the entrance to the ball room.

“You’re not even looking,” you smirked. Dean bit his lip, musing over his words before he answered you.

“Well, it’s either this or me walking out there with a... small problem.” You had no time to respond to his comment as Bela ushered the two of you forward to make your entrance. You took in the large ball room. The place was seemingly endless, the dance floor filled with a crowd, large chandeliers dangling from the painted ceilings, a stair case that was built for a grand entrance. The guests were all dressed to the nines, their elegant gowns and suits more beautiful than the next. The Prince halted at the top of the stairs.

The same guy as before announced your arrival. “Your royal highness crown prince Dean Johnathan Henry Winchester, air to the throne of Boldovia and your royal highness princess Elizabeth Catharina Therèse Hurwitz, air to the throne of Genieve, fiancée of prince Dean.” Between both names he took a deep breath, the words flowing fluidly from his lips. Honestly, you were impressed. What a mouthful!

Dean guided you down the stairs, holding you steady while your knees buckled. All the guest their eyes were trained on you, picking up the slightest mistakes you would make. You murmured a quick thank you once you had safely and even gracefully reached the bottom of the stairs. The whole room watched as the King and Queen made their entry, followed by Prince Sam and the birthday girl.

A few waiters walked around the room, making sure every guest had a full glass of champagne. Dean accepted two glasses and handed one to you. You nipped at the bubbly drink, trying to keep a straight face. Champagne still wasn’t your thing. Prince Sam and Jessica received their glasses last and within a few seconds the room went quiet. Jessica made a quick toast, thanking everyone for coming, wishing her guests a pleasant evening. The room applauded her and soon conversations started again.

“Hmm, appetizers,” you licked your lips when you noticed a couple of waiters enter the room, a tray full of miniature meals balanced on their hands.

Dean grinned, enjoying the way your eyes lit up. “You should try the fried shrimp with curry sauce. It’s delicious!” The waiter halted in front of you and presented the different options. As the Prince suggested, you picked out the shrimp.

“I can’t eat this gracefully, can I?” you snickered. You poked the sea creature around the little plate with your fork.

“Nope,” the man next to you grinned and scooped his shrimp into his mouth. How does he do that?, you wondered, how can he stuff his face and still look hot? Fuck! Under his amused gaze you stuffed your own appetizer into your mouth. Your eyes widened, the taste washing over your palette in harmony. “Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Heaven.” You nodded your head as you swallowed it down.

That’s when the nickname registered and your cheeks shaded pink. The Prince was about to comment on it, but Sam chose that time to start a conversation with his older brother. Thank the lord.

“Shrimp?” the younger prince asked as he eyed your plates.

“Always,” Dean replied with a smirk before he focussed his attention on the girl next to Sam. “Happy birthday, Jessica.” He kissed her cheek and pulled back. You followed his lead, mimicking his movements. The conversation was quick and easy, the basic questions going around. “What did that doofus give you this year?” Dean teased his little brother. You took a swig of your champagne, hoping the glass would be empty soon and you could replace it with something better.

Jessica smiled as she leaned into Sam and casually answered: “A little getaway to Paris, followed by a week of relaxing in the Provence.” You nearly spat out your sip of champagne. Oh, let’s go to France like it’s the most normal thing in the world, you mocked to yourself. Decadent much.

“With a lot of wine tasting of course,” Sam added like the whole trip in itself wasn’t pretentious enough. Dean nodded in approval and congratulated his brother for actually coming up with a good idea.

The couple excused themselves to go and talk to the other guests, leaving you and Ellie’s fiancé alone. It didn’t take long before you were involved in another conversation revolving around either politics or the upcoming wedding. The Prince guided you through the room, making small talk with several guests, like was expected from him. He introduced you to the other nobles or as he sees it “refreshing your memory”. You reduced your part in the conversations to a minimum after the first few interactions were a bit unfortunate. Of course Dean thought it was hilarious how you seemed to always say the wrong things. It weren’t any big mistakes, but amusing nonetheless.

“Your Highness,” a sly voice creeped up behind you, his accent and timbre adding to the unsettling feeling.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. You barely noticed how he discreetly rolled his eyes. He excused himself from the duke and duchess of Vertwynne and turned around, focussing his attention on the older man in front of him. “Prime minister Crowley,” the Prince greeted him out of courtesy, his usually friendly demeanor flying out the window.

“Your Highness,” the prime minister addressed you. “You look dashing tonight, princess Elizabeth.” You replied with a friendly smile and thanked him, complimenting his tailored black suit. Dean noticed your uneasiness and was quick to place his hand on your lower back. His fingers brushed over the fabric of your dress ever so slightly, soothing the nerves Crowley evoked from you. “How is the wedding coming along?”

“Peachy.” The Prince’s reply was short. He clearly didn’t want to talk to this man, the latter obviously just as uninterested.

“Nearly all of the arrangements have been settled, just a few minor decisions left,” you added to relief some of the tension. Crowley’s smile made shivers run across your spine, his eyes piercing into yours. A ‘wonderful’ was all you got in return.

“Now if you would excuse me, I need to attend some business with the king. Prince Dean,” he said, nodding his way. “Princess Elizabeth,” Crowley stressed Ellie’s name as his gaze locked with yours. Shit! You feigned a smile, pushing away the panic settling in your stomach. You tried to ignore the thought of how he might have seen through your lies. What did he need to discuss with King John? Was it about you? About the scam you were playing?

The Prince waited until the prime minister was out of hearing. “He is such a pain in the ass,” he mumbled. His words snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Uh, sorry, what?”

Dean smiled and quickly repeated his words. “He always has a hidden agenda and is basically the biggest criminal of the country. If I didn’t know better, he could be the king of hell.” You bit your lower lip to stifle your laughter. “Oh and if you hadn’t noticed, he isn’t really a big fan of our monarchy.”

“No way,” you faked surprise. “I for sure thought he had a picture frame of your royal house hanging above his bed.” Dean’s laugh boomed through the ball room and your heart soared, proud he was smiling because of you. The Prince offered his arm to you. You linked yours with his and strolled around the room.

Your eyes caught Charlie’s on the other side of the room. She looked stunning but bored out of her mind. It didn’t take you long to know the reason. Some guy was chatting up Jo and she was full on flirting back.

“Dean,” you said to get his attention. He raised his eyebrows, turning towards you. “Do you know any lesbians here? Hot lesbians,” you specified. You thought his eyes would bulge out and he quickly nipped of his champagne, coughing as he swallowed the sip.

“Please don’t go gay on me right before the wedding,” he joked. You gently slapped his upper arm. “Or if it’s some kinky stuff, you know, thre…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, mister,” you quickly interjected. “I don’t need to hear your fetishes just yet.” Dean smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. You sighed amused. “No, it’s Charlie. Jo is flirting with some dude and Charlie is just standing there. Any suggestions?”

The Prince glanced across the room, apparently searching for a possible match. “First of all, Jo is chatting up one of the wealthiest nobles of Boldovia. Not just some random dude.” He leaned closer to you and whispered the next few words. “And rumour has it that the marquise of Whitedale appreciates the female forms, if you know what I mean. Just don’t tell the husband,” he winked. “Oh how convenient, she just walked out of the ball room.”

“Be right back,” you smirked. Dean chuckled as you beelined towards Charlie.

The redhead saw you approaching, relief washing over her face. “Ellie,” she smiled. She pulled you aside right after you greeted Jo. “Please help me, Y/N. I’m third wheeling over here and the more champagne blondie downs, the closer they get. I know Jo is just joking around and that idiot isn’t getting any tonight, but one more cheesy line from him and I’m gonna throw up.”

“Well, about that. According to Dean the marquise of Whitedale, and I quote, appreciates the female forms.” Charlie’s eyes lit up and she gestured to go on. “And she’s hot. Interested?”

“Anything better than those two.” You pointed towards the exit the marquise just went through, ushering your friend to discretely go and follow her.

You turned back around and searched for your husband to be. Ellie’s husband to be, not yours, you scolded yourself. With that thought on repeat your eyes landed on Dean and a drop dead gorgeous woman. Your heart dropped as you took in the scene unfolding in front of you. One of her hands rested on his arm while the other threw back her long, black hair. She laughed at something the Prince had said and it made your blood boil. You shouldn’t be this bothered by her. Last you checked Dean wasn’t yours and would never be yours, but you couldn’t deny the feeling of pure jealousy.

Next chapter

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kingsofchaos · 8 years

Text

Outside the relevant video footage there are a few particular photos of the FAHC that the media likes to use whenever they are discussing one of the crew's attacks on the news; between citizen’s snapshots and professional photojournalists there’s certainly no shortage of available images but a select handful have become somewhat iconic. There are favourites for each individual, at least of the main public-facing portion of the crew, even ideal shots of near every little combination of members, but it’s the big group photos that really bring in the money. The favoured images are all action shots including all the key members of the crew, rare and hard to capture but spectacular when managed, the candid photos looking more like promo stills for a Hollywood blockbuster than anything based in reality. Tales of the crew’s latest acts of bloody ruthlessness are often accompanied by a snap taken by a long-focus lens through a chain-link fence of the Fake’s waiting for pickup outside a warehouse. Pattillo’s on the phone, Ramsey has his head in one hand as he gestures towards where Jones is tipping off balance with Dooley in a headlock, who in turn has one hand fisted in the Vagabond’s jacket as Free looks on, apparently cleaning his nails with a knife. The group ranges from a light smattering to utterly drenched but not one has entirely escaped the spray of blood, and every single one of them is laughing. When instead the topic of discussion is the FAHC’s opulent irreverence the image of choice is one showing the key six in various stages of undress, swimmers and cocktails all around as they lounge about the spa and deck of the mayor’s yacht. Then there’s the photo that never fails to come up whenever the media is focussing on the FAHC’s ability to do the unbelievable, taken during one of the Fake’s more ludicrous heists. An overbearing titan dwarfs the scene right outside Maze Bank, cartoonishly large magnet swinging heavily below it at the aircraft absconds with an entire safe. Two figures are standing atop the safe as it is lifted, one in a suit and the other in a skull mask, both clinging to the chain as they lean out to shoot towards those still on the ground. Below a hotly pursued chrome car is fishtailing around the corner even as two bikes are caught mid-flight, launching through the air over a police barricade, the drivers – one decked out in all gold and the other a mess of purple and orange – reaching out to bump gloved fists. A grainy mobile camera shot that is largely ignored by mainstream media nonetheless makes the rounds on the internet, quickly going viral as people express their fascination with the image of Los Santos’ most infamous villains after a night at the bar. Walking down a quiet street Ramsey and Pattillo are out in front, the boss laughing and gesticulating wildly while the second shoves him away, grin mostly hidden as she looks back at the others following behind. Free’s arm is hooked around Jones’ neck, a careless piggyback that matches the sloppy edge of their grins, his other arm thrust forward like he’s directing a charge despite the way the Vagabond is clearly towing them both with one hand. The other hand is busy keeping Dooley from slumping to the ground, limp body slung over the Vagabonds shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and even masked its clear the mercenary is looking skyward in exasperation. It’s an oddly humanising image, the familiarity of drunken camaraderie regardless of the nature of the people involved, and, feeling safe and brazen behind the anonymity of the internet, the picture is quickly utilised in a dozen different ridiculous memes. Despite all that, the most commonly used image of the crew by far, and easily the most obnoxiously arrogant of the lot, comes from the memorable day the FAHC decided to make a show of finally wiping out their key rivals, an example to the city and a huge payday all rolled into one extravagant affair. While there are still plenty missing the imagine contains nearly every identifiable member of the FAHC, including a sizable chunk of support, all dressed in matching suits - visibly expensive, personally tailored and entirely unnecessary, each with their own little flairs of green; a tie, a handkerchief, a necklace, a vest. The crew is walking in a V-formation, with Ramsey front and centre and the rest flared back around him, loose limbed and laughing like they’re not all armed to the teeth. Like there isn’t a burnt out plane behind them or a building pouring smoke and flame. Like this photo didn’t catch them moments after securing the most horrifically high body-count the crew has to their name. It’s used because of how many members are visible, because of how clearly it displays the callous cruelty of the crew, the violent destruction at the heart of their existence. The Fake’s just love how insufferably grandiose it is, from the accidental formation of their walk to the silly last second decision to suit up and wreck shop like caricature gangsters, all picked apart and interpreted as intention, calculated self-importance and immaculate organisation. There is however, a single photo in circulation that the Fake’s draw no pleasure from no matter how many times its shown. It’s the kind of image prime time news always precedes with a warning; disturbing, graphic, might offend some viewers, proceed at your own risk. It was taken by a particularly reckless journalist in the middle of a shootout that stayed in the headlines for weeks, the stormy night that almost spelled the end of the FAHC and cost many officers their lives in the process. The image embodies every inch of that grim reality, almost washed out by the red and blue lights reflecting back off every surface from pale faces to the wet shine of the road, and the whole photo couldn’t have been framed better if it had been staged. There are lumps scattered across the scene; rubble, cartridges, crashed vehicles and indistinguishable bodies in blue and black Kevlar. In the foreground there is a shock of green hair against the pavement, Dooley's prone form blocked almost entirely by Ramsey crouching over him, usual jacket abandoned to reveal a tattered shirt, stark and ghostly white against the harsh black metal of the machine gun braced against his shoulder. Slightly further back, ducked low and braced against a wall Pattillo and the Vagabond press together, bodies inadvertently angled towards the photographer. The Vagabond is caught mid-reload, skull askew as his head twists back to look behind even as Pattillo keeps him pinned, gun slung across her back and her own shirt ripping between her teeth as she ties it around the masked man's thigh. Furthest away and almost perfectly centred Jones has his back to the camera, the distinctive snarl of the wolf stamped across his spine just visible as he stands square between his crew and the advancing line of officers, outline lit by the bright flare of his muzzle flash. Nearby a slighter figure echoes his position, taking aim from the hood of an abandoned police car, though one of Free's arms hangs wet and useless to his side, face turned just far enough to reveal blood streaked skin and bared teeth. Out of focus but distinct even in the background the LSPD advances, a solid mass interspaced by flashing lights and flaring weapons. The photo even captured a glimpse of the Firebird’s chopper arriving, the deciding factor that finally swung the fight back into the FAHC's favour, just visible emerging around the hulking silhouette of a building. The photo is, in all objectivity, an artistic masterpiece. The Fake’s hate it. Any media loop of a job gone bad is a pretty miserable time, and there is certainly enough footage of that night to go around, but something about that image is particularly grating. It’s hardly the worst photo of them out there, isn’t embarrassing or overly revealing, the few visible faces not even reflecting the desperate terror they’d all felt by the end, but it’s still too much. Too painful, too human, far too close, so each and every time it surfaces again it never fails to tip somebody into a bad mood. The annoyance is aimed at the media really, not the individual who’d snapped the shot; no matter how many claimed the man should have his identity protected for safety the Fake’s simply weren’t interested. Which isn’t to say they didn’t notice when that damned image won a prestigious award, oh no. For all their collective indifference there’s just no way the photographer was ever going to keep that prize long, his apartment broken into within a week without any obvious signs of forced entry, the culprits only identifiable by the message they left behind in their wake, bright green paint splashed across the wall where the shiny new plaque had hung in pride of place; Get our good side next time, xoxo FAHC

#FAHC #good grief #this all came from me laughing at a particular photo #that the news keeps using every night #+there just has to be so many photos #someone was going to be pulling Gavin from the car #because honestly kid way to make yourself a target #but Lad rage over hurt J won out #i default Jeremy to green hair #Legal and Illegal Have Nothing To Do With Right or Wrong #Loaded Guns and Sharp Teeth

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gguksgalaxy · 8 years

Text

Little Big Secret pt. 4

Masterpost <-- Part 3 | Part 5 -->

Genre: Fluff/Angst (more angst in this part omg) Warnings: Angst, bashing SM (sorrynotsorry), probably wrong representation of photography industry don’t bash me. And there's ONE dirty comment in here...like 1..... Pairing: Reader x Yixing/Lay Wordcount: 2648 A/N: Because I am a nice person, don't want to leave you hanging ;)...well...i kinda left you hanging again. @oh-beyond but thats my thing. And i posted two parts in one day because...it was supposed to be one part....and it was 5k....and no.

Message me if you want to be on the tag list.

Your pov

There was, sitting in the chair to get his makeup done, eyes closed, leaning back. They were pushing his hair away from his face, setting it with hairspray. For makeup it wasn’t much more than your usual foundation and a bit of filling on his eyebrows. Those girls better not mess with his eyebrows, you though. They were good as they were. But he was here, in front of you. After not speaking for over 2 months. And you felt the shaking in your leg. Had he seen you yet? Maybe he had, but he couldn’t come up to you. His manager was here, and he’d get into trouble if they figured out. Or maybe they already did…and that’s why he stopped calling you. Anxiety settled in your stomach and you had to get out of the room for a second. “Nina?” you asked. “Would it be okay if I go to the toilet real quick before we start?” “Sure, he’s not done yet anyway. Come back quickly.” She said, and you put your Camera down on the table to try and walk out as calmly as possible.

You pushed open the doors to the bathroom, and walked to the sink, leaning over. “Fuck.” You whispered. It took everything in you to not run back out there and jump in his arms, to pull him close, listen to his heartbeat, kiss his lips. How were you going to get through this? Could you? Were you going to lose this job. There was a chance he wouldn’t even be able to contact you after this. That you’d see him here, takes his pictures, have to look at him for hours, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Not with all these people here. His job was on the line, and right now so was yours. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Its going to be okay. You told yourself, over and over and over. Till your heart stopped racing and you pushed back the anxiety. The door opened, and you didn’t look up, but you straightened your back so you’d at least look a little more composed. You should probably get back. Then, a familiar set of hands settled on your waist, a warm chest pressed itself against yours. And you didn’t need to do anything to know it was him. He pressed his soft lips against your jaw, pressing you against the sink. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming?” he asked. You shivered, and placed your hands over his. “No. You’re not.” “I missed you. Do you know how good you look?” he ran his nose up to your ear, and whispered against your ear. “I’d take you right here, if I could.” Another shiver, but you turned in his grip. “Xing, what happened?” you whispered. He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. “They found out that Xiumin called an unknown number for over hours, and then saw the same number in Baekhyun’s factime account. They blocked the non-family or non-close friends from the phones. They got so close y/n.” His eyes were closed tightly, and he was still holding onto your hips, squeezing. “I tried, but there was no way without finding out. If it wasn’t Jongdae and Baekhyun who came up with some lame story about a bet to chat with a fan, they’d have figured out. They all got reprimanded, and I felt so bad.” And you did too, you didn’t mean to cause any of this. “I’m so sorry Xing, I just…I was so worried.” Softly, he pressed his lips to yours, and you felt the sticky moist feeling of his lipbalm. “It’s okay. They don’t blame you. If anything they blame Luhan for giving up the phone number. They understand your feelings. But they took away my second phone, I…I couldn’t find a way.” You nodded, and traced your fingers over his cheek. He opened his eyes, and they looked into yours, warm and familiar. “We’ll make it Xing.” “Y/n…” “You’re not going to do this Yixing, we had this conversation years ago. The answer is no, and it’ll stay no. There must be a way. We’ll find it. If the boys help, it’ll be okay.” You kissed him, softly too. “I love you.” “I love you too.” He said, and his voice cracked. He coughed to get it to leave. “We should go back, they’ll start wondering where we are. You go first. I’ll follow in a minute.” With a nod you stepped away from the warm circle of his arms, hand trailing up his arm till he was out of reach. He grabbed your wrist though, and held you there. “You’re going to be okay. You can do this. This is your dream. Just think of it as if it’s just us.” He winked and smiled, letting you go and you walked out of the door. You rushed back to the room, where most people were waiting. “You finally done?” Nina asked. Ouch? “I’m sorry.” “I told you to come back quickly.” “I…” you started. “Sorry.” Yixing said, strolling back into the room. “It’s my fault, I ran into her in the hallway, knocked her over. We got talking, I apologise for any delay.” Nina bowed to Lay. “It’s okay. If we can please get started. We want to get as many pictures as we can.” He nodded and moved over to the backdrop. They had changed it to white, and there was some white cube for him to it on. He looked good, wearing grey patterned pants and a green short sleeved blouse. With a smile he sat down, and your eyes fell on his shoes. What were those ugly slippers? You tried to sustain your laughter, and he saw, smiling and quirking an eyebrow. “Anything wrong?” Nina asked. You shook your head. “No sorry,” you grabbed your camera and walked over to the lights, positioning them in the way you wanted. The heavy weight of his gaze on you made your skin tingle and you tried your best to not get affected. Especially when you started to take pictures. As he leant on his knees. Hand gliding from his neck down to where he dropped it back in his lap. Touching his forehead, playing with an earring he wasn’t wearing. All the while he looked into the camera, dark gaze staring straight into your soul it seemed. Could he not for a second? You hadn’t touched him for over 4 months, you didn’t need this. It was good that he always smiled after a few shots, not being able to contain his laughter. But he always knew how to compose himself long enough for you to get a few more pictures. He kept up a little longer with the gazing than he normally did in photoshoots, and you knew it was because it was you. He changed outfits, first to something with a lot of dotted prints and deep dark colours. Again with some stupid loafers that made you want to make fun of him. But you played it off and went on. Nina switched out with you to take some pictures too. She’s checked your first set of pictures, and said they looked good. You felt proud. It was easy, because this was Yixing. The person who knew you better than anyone, he was comfortable around you. You wondered if all the other people you photograph in the future will be this calm and easygoing. For this one, you asked him to not look at the camera, just somewhere off to the side so you could capture his side profile. The third outfit was even worse. Some weird white jacket with green flowers, a piece of cloth for a scarf and just wow. His Lose Control photoshoot did the clothes so much better. You would’ve asked him to take the ugly jacket off, but you couldn’t because you weren’t in charge of clothes. So you went with it. He was smiling, a little and joked with the girl who came in a redid his hair. Then he suddenly stared at the camera, and stepped closer, closer, closer. Till he was looking at you and he laughed, reaching over to grab your glasses from your nose. “Uhh Lay?” you stuttered. Nina saw, and she walked over. The stylists protested when he put the glasses on his nose. “Wait.” Nina said. “I actually like it, keep them on.” She filmed some of the shoot while you were taking pictures. He sat back down, his hands hanging down between his legs. Dropping his chin a little, a frown set on his forehead and he slowly sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Not removing his gaze from the camera at all. You felt your knees shake for a second. What was he even doing? And then he laughed, face breaking into a smile and letting out a soft chuckle while he covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry.” He said, and fanned his face. “Sorry.” And he went back to looking at the camera, changing the angle of his head, moving his hands freely still. You got a break after the third outfit, and Yixing was set back in the chair to change his hair. With a frown you watched the woman take out gel, and muss up his hair, pushing it back. Ruffling till it looked messed up and a little wet. Now he was wearing blue blue jeans with some sort of embroidered flower design on them, tears in the fabric. The shirt was of the same colour, with a similar design on it. Nina was the first to take the pictures for this one, and you watched her do it, instead of focussing on your boyfriends gazing and touching. She was a professional, you were here to learn from her. The way she shifted the camera comfortably and moved around him. He followed the camera, looking straight at it. He didn’t need much directions, to do what he needed to do. And you realised that the perfection of a photoshoot also greatly depended on the models skills. A skilled professional could make anyone look good, but it would look the best if they worked with you comfortably and easily. “Y/n, do you want to take some last pictures?” she asked, and came over to you. You nodded eagerly, wanting to get everything out of this. Especially since you’d be able to save all these pictures to your laptop. Finally a right excuse to have them. She turned to Lay. “We have a last request from the magazine Lay. Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt?” What? Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Oh no, why. Was she serious? She definitely didn’t look like she was joking as she checked her clipboard. You watched your boyfriend nod, and your eyes briefly flickered over to his manager, who was checking something on his phone in the corner of the room. Yixing reached for the snap buttons, and undid them one by one. You got an idea, and you went with it. Snapping pictures of him quickly why he was still unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes glanced up when he noticed what you were doing, and he cocked an eyebrow while he kept going on down till they were all undone. His hands gripped the material, and held it open to reveal his toned torso, and the little bit of hair that ran up his lower abdomen. You felt the blush creep up your neck and you tried to get it away by thinking of other random things. Then he bit his lips and you just about were ready to leave the room. Was he in his right mind? You wanted to touch him, kiss him, feel him against you. So so bad. “I have an idea.” Nina said again and she walked out of the room. You lowered the camera and before anyone behind you could notice shot Yixing a glare. And he smiled innocently, he was too cute. Too easily switched from down right fucker to your cute boyfriend that cuddled with a sheep stuffy. She returned with a wet washcloth. Oh definitely not. You were done with this. Why, this. While you tried to cover up your flushed face with a frown, she stepped over to Lay and ran a wet hand through his hair, messing it up further. And then she pressed the cloth against his chest. His skin shone in the light, and you just…. “Okay let’s see what this gives.” You lifted your camera and captured the way the water droplets ran down his chest. As he settled his hands on his hips, pushing the shirt further from his chest. The elastic band of his underwear peaked out above his jeans perfectly and you just tried your hardest to sustain yourself. “Okay, I think that’s a wrap.” Nina suddenly called. “Everything is looking good.” Yixing bowed, twice and went to change, giving you a short glance. Eyes quickly going up and down your body. The fucker. You put your camera down and went to change the lens back to the normal one. Putting the other one in the bad. “Hey, y/n. You did a great job. Especially with a big idol like Lay. But he’s easy to work with luckily. Did you enjoy yourself?” If only she knew… “Yes it was great, thank you for this opportunity.” “You were a lot more professional than I thought you’d be, especially after you went to the bathroom. I thought you were going to have a nervous breakdown or something.” She opened her laptop. “Can you give me your camera card, so I can transfer the pictures?” You nodded and took the card out of your camera and put it in her hand. She opened the pictures on her laptop, and scrolled through them. “They’re looking really good. You have an eye for this.” A familiar presence was behind you, and you his your smile. “Do they look okay?” Yixing asked from behind you, looking over your shoulder. Nina nodded. “They’re prefect. I think we really did discover some talent with y/n here. She’s our new intern.” She said, facing Yixing. He looked at you. “Well I couldn’t tell, she’s good for sure.” He bowed to you and he bowed back. Now he was wearing the sweater he wore when he came in, sneakers on his feet instead of ridiculous sandals. Behind the makeup was your XingXing, a soft smile playing on his lips and displaying his dimple. “Thank you.” You said. “Thank you.” He replied and left with his manager. Nina scrolled through your pictures again and copied them. “Well, lets say that I’ll definitely be keeping you here during your internship y/n. I will email you about the pictures we’ll use. Here.” She handed you back your card. “Thank you so much. This is a dream come true, you have no idea.” She laughed. “Not many people come here the way you do. Be proud of yourself, don’t thank me.” You bowed again and went to your bag. Within minutes you were on the train back home and scrolled through the pictures on your camera. Smiling to widely it hurt. They looked good, he looked good. But thats the benefit of taking pictures of something you know inside and out. You know all his good angles. Lets just hope you’ll be able to keep up this level. What a sad thing it would be to reach your peak on your first shoot. Something small and shiny was in your bag, and you took it out. You hadn’t seen this before, it was a keycard. A hotel keycard. A small note was attached to it.

Room 2490, Marriott hotel.

Your Xing.

@oh-beyond @xingtrash @xiubaek13 @damn-jongdae-slay @bootyfulohsehun @mylordae @thawingsnowwolf @nunchiwrites @chenbootysoo @sherbatchan @junmyeonsthighs @littlekatlizzy @i-learned-thatfromthepizzaman @tbhwtfatm-blog @melyyexo @kaori-yuki-chan @hyamori @ravyeolii @ruke-pammant @wheredidmylifego-ohyeahbtsandexo @yoongi-insfires-me @i-am-foyo @dashi-dorawa

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abigailswager · 6 years

Text

What is Fundamental Analysis

New Post has been published on https://forexfacts.net/fundamental-analysis/

What is Fundamental Analysis

What is Fundamental analysis

when we are talking about fundamental analysis in this case we are talking about forex fundamental analysis and not fundamental analysis for stocks,

fundamental analysis is the study of fundamentals!

when people are talking about fundamentals, they are really talking about the economic fundamentals of a currency’s host country.

Economic fundamentals deal with a huge amount of information and variables – this represents itself in reports, data, announcements or events. concerning the economy or politics, environment etc .

what is fundamental analysis

Fundamental analysis is the use and study of these factors to forecast future price movements of currencies. you can see it now everyday with President trump doing his thing on twitter and see how this affects the market.

you have to look at the world and around us, in economic and finance terms of course, everything could affect the way we are trading and this and it tends to focus on how macroeconomic elements (such as the growth of the economy, inflation, unemployment) affect whatever we’re trading and this fundamental analysis in Forex means you are aware of what ever could move the price of your currency.

fundamental analysis give you as a trader the insight into how price action “should” or might react to a certain economic event.

So how do you get this Insight as to “what is Fundamental analysis

?”

Fundamental data reaches you through different means and in different forms.

when you watch the news or some other financial news outlet and you see that a new unemployment report in the UK has come out and there might be a possibility that the European Central Bank will change its monetary policy. you have a reaction, good or bad news the world around it responds inviting a reaction from investors and speculators.

sometimes just the gossip of a report or some potential peace talk somewhere will have some affect on how investors see their investment. when this happens there can be a huge spike in activity as many try to manage the damage or ride the wave of profit. this is always very visible when there is a natural disaster that paralyses a country.

the market responds and keep in mind that for fundamental analysis of stock of companies that work in the relive sector or military sector will respond very different then stock of a energy company that saw it windmills being blown away , as a result the value of the domestic currency will also change as food might become an issue and thus the prices will be raised etc.

currencies can jump 100 pips in a short time

In fact, when talking about fundamental analysis Forex only. currency pairs have been known to sometimes move 100 + pips just moments before major economic news, making for a profitable time to trade for those willing to take a risk

You should get in to this action also and this is why you will see that most traders that make a profit do this on a currency where they are very close to

the That’s why many Forex traders are filled and trembling with anticipation just before a big announcement or prior to certain economic releases!

in short you can make it as complicated as you want but It’s simpler than it sounds and you won’t need to know astrophysics to figure it all out.

How to be updated on fundamental analysis of stocks and currencies

Fundamental analysis is a amazing valuable tool or process in estimating or guesstimating the future conditions of an economy.

that said ,fundamental analysis does not help you immediately in predicting the currency price direction.

there’s a lot of uncertainty in fundamental analysis!” There’s no way of knowing for sure where a currency pair will go because of some new fundamental data in the form of report.

Still Fundamental analysis is a tool and you should use it

Because of the online media coverage and huge amount of fundamental data available every minute of the day, most people will have a hard time putting it all together, i know i do. you might be able to understand the implications of one report but have a hard tie to understand what this means on a macro economic level.

Also, since most fundamental data are reported only for a single currency of one country, fundamental information for the other currency in the pair you plan to trade would also be required in order to get a real picture of this currency pair’s situation and possible price direction.

Pair a strong currency with a weaker one

when you plan to rttrade forex it’s all about pairing a strong currency with a weak one.

fundamental analysis vs technical analysis

here we will not g in to deep as there are entire books written on this subject.

see it like this :

Technical analysis seems to be the preferred methodology of short-term Forex traders, they focus mainly on the price action.

Intermediate or medium traders and some long-term traders like to focus on fundamental analysis too because it helps with currency valuation.

still you have to use both of them

Strategies that are primarily focussed on the technical part go out the windo the moment a large fundamental event happens.

fundamental traders miss out on the short-term opportunities that pattern formations and technical levels bring.

so the perfect mix would be using both and have technical and fundamental analysis covers all the angles.

you follow and are aware when large events are happening or planned and at the same time have a close eye on the prices of the currencies and see the opportunity in the short term when it presents itself

what is Fundamental analysis

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ultralifehackerguru-blog · 7 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://www.lifehacker.guru/50-street-photography-tips/

50 Street Photography Tips for You

By Sebastian

My goal of this blog is to share my experience of learning Street Photography myself. Along this road, I wrote many long-form articles on certain Street Photography tips. Longer articles where I wrote about the importance of leading lines, or how you can conquer the night with your camera.

With the following list of Street Photography Tips, I wanted to give you an overview of topics that can help you to become a better Street Photographer.

How To Use these Street Photography Tips

50 Street Photography Tips are a lot to digest at one time. This list isn’t supposed to be read in one going or that you try to apply as many tips as possible when you are on the street the next time.

We as humans are bad at focusing on multiple things at the same time. My tip would be to focus on one or two tips the next time you go out on the street and improve step-by-step rather than mixing everything up.

1 Get Closer

To start off the list of Street Photography Tips here is one of the most famous tips to get better results.

Robert Capa said “If your pictures aren’t good enough, you aren’t close enough”

This is true in many ways and often beginners are too afraid to get close to the subject and rather shoot from a “safe” distance. Approaching Street Photography this way has many disadvantages. You are disconnected from your subject, the subject is barely visible & the surroundings are too distracting.

If you are interested in a person, get closer until the subject fills the frame.

Overcome your fear of photographing in public.

Read More: The Fear of Photographing in public

2 Shoot from a low Angle

When doing Street Photography we can either be lazy and always shoot from our normal point of view when we are standing, or we could put some extra effort into the photograph by searching for unique perspectives.

This Street Photography tip means to put more work in your Street Photography.

Shooting from a low angle has the advantage that we normally don’t see the world from this low, which makes any image automatically more interesting.

Use the LCD screen rather than your viewfinder and you can even lay your camera right on the floor. Pre-focus to make sure that your images will be sharp.

3 Layer Your Images

If you are interested in landscape photography you probably noticed that most sunset photos by the ocean also feature a rock or boat in the foreground. This is not because the photographer is a rock fan, but because it improves the composition and helps the viewer to scale the dimension.

Your pictures should be interesting on every layer from foreground to background. When going out for a photo walk the next time, search for a subject, but also keep your attention to place something in the foreground and background.

By doing so, your photographs will be more life-like and three-dimensional, helping the viewer to immerse in the scene.