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ladamedusoif · 6 months ago

Text

El Mar (The Sea)

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader - Part of the Summer Lovin' 24 Fic Event

Prompt: By The Sea #1

Word count: 6.4k (this got out of hand)

Content Notes and Warnings: Explicit; 18+ MDNI; set after the events of TUWOMT; we can assume things just didn’t work out with Gabriela because in this house we love her; no physical description of Reader beyond her clothes; references to implied infidelity (not involving Javi or Reader); references to alcohol consumption; Reader understands at least some Spanish; Reader can swim; likely errors about yachts and how they work because I have never been on one; some angst but so much softness; friends to lovers; oral sex (f receiving); mutual masturbation; safe PiV sex; did I mention the softness

A/N: For @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery's wonderful Summer Lovin’ fic challenge event, with love and SO MANY apologies for how goddamned late this is. (This is what happens when you are an overthinker and a perfectionist).

And huge love and thanks to @doscharolastras for being such a supportive beta for this, and for everything.

(header by @pedgito and divider by @cafekitsune)

“You’re a great guy, Javi, truly.” Etta hastily rolls up a couple of her light slip dresses and pushes them into her Longchamp weekend bag. “But it’s over. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy, who’ll love what you love, who’ll love you for you. I mean that.”

Her eyes scan the room for any belongings she might have left behind, but purposefully avoid the perplexed face of her boyfriend of almost a year. Javi Gutierrez is still struggling to make sense of it all. One minute he was kissing Etta on the cheek, leaving her on a sunlounger by the hotel pool while he went for a stroll along the Croisette, keen to soak up the atmosphere of the Cannes Film Festival. The next, he was standing in their comfortable hotel suite, watching his girlfriend packing her bags.

”Etta, amor, please wait. Please. We…we are going on the yacht tomorrow, remember? A week on the Mediterranean, just you and me.” He wrings his hands, helpless. “Maybe it is just what we need, no? Time together, time to see how we can save what we have.” Javi’s dark brown eyes sparkle with a mixture of hope and heartbreak.

She exhales and zips her bag, slipping it over the handle of her large suitcase. “Is this even worth saving, Javi? Seriously?”

Javi, blindsided, is lost for words. All he can do is repeat her name, over and over, pleading, disbelieving, as Etta gives him a chaste little kiss on the cheek and leaves the room.

Later, lying on the bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Javi realises that in all her hasty explanations and excuses, she never once looked him in the eye.

You smiled when you opened the file with details of the client for the next week. Javi Gutierrez was a regular, usually hiring a yacht at least once a summer for a week or two of sailing around the Med. You took a certain satisfaction in the fact that he always requested that you be his chief stew (short for chief steward; in non-yacht speak, the person responsible for managing everything from dinners to room requests to on-board entertainment).

He told you why, once. “You are…what is the term? Unbothered? It does not matter who is on the yacht, how famous or not, you are wonderful to everyone.”

You chuckled. “People are people. My job is to make sure you all have a perfect holiday.”

You suspected that Javi was thinking of the time when, on his first trip, you had somehow managed to transform a stateroom into a dojo at very short notice - and had not batted an eyelid when it became clear that it was a special request for Nicolas Cage.

You knew you were nursing a little crush on him, there was no doubt. But that’s all it was - a little crush, harmless, inconsequential. After all, anyone would end up with a little crush on Javi Gutierrez if they met him.

This year, Javi had hired a yacht and plotted an itinerary that would pick him up in Cannes, after the film festival, and travel across the Mediterranean to its final destination: his home in Majorca, docking in Palma. The reservation was for two guests. You arched an eyebrow, swiping down to the section of the form marked “Special Requests”.

”Mr Gutierrez and his guest (Etta Balbay, actor, model) will be celebrating their first anniversary as a couple on this trip. Please arrange for flowers and champagne in the stateroom, and intimate meals and atmosphere.”

Javi generally kept the details of his personal life close to his chest, though you knew that it had been a while since he’d had a serious relationship. You smiled as you opened up your go-to contact list for florists in Cannes, heart gladdened that this kind, funny man had finally found someone to love.

***

Javi can’t remember how long he’s been lying on the bed, fully clothed. He must have slept for a while, he thinks - the light creeping through the drapes is bright and fresh, suggesting early morning. He reaches for his phone. Seven AM.

He had tried calling Etta a few times in the hours after she left, but the calls went unanswered. Eventually, he got a voice note from her.

“Javi, sweetheart, I think it’s best for both of us if we just do no contact for a while. I’ll make arrangements with your people to get my things from your place in LA.”

He listens to it again and flops back onto the bed.

He’s woken the next time by the hotel room phone, ringing furiously. He looks at his wristwatch, this time.

Eight thirty.

“Hola, hello?” Javi’s voice is heavy and groggy.

“Javi?” Pablo, his assistant, sounds frantic on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you! Did you two forget about the early departure?”

Javi rubs his face and runs his fingers through his curls. “Early departure?”

“The yacht, Javi. You’d arranged to leave at eight, remember?”

The fucking yacht. He’d completely forgotten.

Pablo’s impatience hangs in the air. “What do you want me to do, Javi? I’m at the marina now, they called me when you didn’t show up.”

Javi would really rather curl up under his duvet and sleep for a thousand years. But he also really wants to go home. And maybe a week at sea will clear his head.

“Uh, tell them I am very sorry, I overslept… I will be there in half an hour, okay?”

Pablo sighs. “Sure.”

In Javi’s frantic state, he neglects to tell Pablo he is travelling solo. And his frazzled assistant doesn’t notice that his boss has used first person singular “I”, not “we”.

At the marina, Pablo exhales and slips his phone in his pocket. “He’s really sorry, he overslept, but he’s en route. That okay with you guys?”

You nod. “I’ll let the captain know, as he might want to replot the course depending on weather, but that’ll be fine. Mr Gutierrez knows where we are?”

Pablo sighs, again, and whips out his phone, tapping rapidly. “He does now.”

***

You smile and straighten your blouse when you see the black car pulling up at the end of the jetty, waiting for the familiar figure to emerge. Javi, typically, insists on helping the driver with his luggage as he makes his way to the boat.

“Mr. Gutierrez, welcome back! A pleasure to host you, as always, and I’m looking forward to meeting Ms Balbay, of course…” You scan the jetty, wondering where Javi’s guest is.

Javi’s face falls and he takes off his wayfarer sunglasses. “I am afraid that Etta…Ms Balbay will not be joining me on this trip, after all. We are no longer together.”

His eyes, usually so bright and warm, are filled with sadness. He looks exhausted.

“Oh, well… that’s absolutely fine, Mr Gutierrez. Let me take your bag, please.” You turn on your best, brightest smile. Professional, always, to the last.

He offers a slight smile in reply and follows you on board the yacht. “If you do not mind, please call me Javi? I know you like to be professional, but…we know each other so well now, no?”

You gesture towards the main living area and Javi enters, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable couches built into the room.

“Of course, Mr Gut- I mean, of course, Javi. I’ll bring this to your stateroom - would you like some refreshments? Coffee, maybe?”

He nods, slowly, and you head towards the staterooms, making a mental note to tell the on-board chef that he would be cooking for one, not two, and that -

Oh, shit.

The stateroom has, per Javi’s original request, been decorated with a beautiful, tasteful floral arrangement. You had freshly opened a bottle of Perrier-Jouet champagne just prior to Javi’s scheduled arrival time, and it stands in an ice bucket alongside two vintage champagne coupes. And in front, an elegant, hand-written card wishes the now-defunct couple a happy anniversary.

Shit. At least you’d got here first. Swiftly, you move to remove any trace of the special additions before he sees them, hoping to spare his feelings. Frantically, you search for the champagne cork - a futile exercise, seeing as you’d never manage to squish it back into the neck of the bottle, but you keep trying to find it.

”If I could at least save this…”, you mutter to yourself, holding the dark green bottle as your eyes scan the stateroom.

”Is it even worth saving?”

Javi stands just inside the door, a sad half-smile on his face.

“Oh, Javi, I’m sorry, I was just -“

He shakes his head, his curls noticeably mussed and unattended to this morning. “Please, no apologies necessary. You were not to know. But thank you for thinking to tidy…this away.” He points at the champagne. “Please. You take it.”

He won’t hear your protestations, your insistence that you cannot drink on duty and won’t have enough time to enjoy the vintage champagne either way. When he finally accepts the bottle, he has one condition.

”You must come and have a glass with me on the deck this evening. Please? We can talk about the festival. You like film, don’t you?”

“Like” was an understatement. You adore cinema. And, as you nod your head, you think to yourself how nice it was that Javi remembered your passion for it.

“Well…okay. But one glass and one glass only for me. I have a ship to run, after all. And now, Javi, I’ll leave you to get unpacked while I check with chef about lunch.”

Javi offers a sweet, semi-formal little bow as you leave the room.

***

You held fast to your limit of one glass of champagne. Javi did not.

As he retired to the stateroom that night, a little the worse for wear, he thought about Etta, about whether there had been signs that something was wrong, whether he had misread the extent of her commitment to him.

She had seemed…different, the last few months. Nothing major, just - a little distant. She put it down to work, juggling some minor acting gigs with modelling, and with the strain of spending most of her time many thousands of miles from Javi. That’s why he’d invited her to Cannes, planned the yacht trip. Time together, away from the demands of their careers.

He’s haunted by her words, her wish that he would find someone who “loved you for you.” What did that mean?

He’d started to speak to you about her, sitting in comfortable seats on the deck as the sun set, his tongue loosened by the champagne. You were typically comforting, kindly suggesting that maybe Etta might just need space, that this might not be the end.

It would be tempting to believe that, Javi muses, as he brushes his teeth. He spits out his toothpaste and reaches for the mouthwash, studying his features in the bathroom mirror. He searches his eyes, as if seeking some hint that hope was an option, that something could be salvaged from the wreckage.

Try as Javi might, he saw only exhaustion. Deep down, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew that Etta was never coming back.

***

After a couple of days at sea, Javi seemed a little brighter. He read, he sunbathed, he wandered amiably around the yacht chatting to you and the other two members of the tiny crew: Tony, the taciturn chef who was desperately homesick for his wife and new baby and spent every free moment on video calls with them; Andres, the ship’s engineer; and Vico, the captain. He asks you, shyly, if you would mind sharing lunch and dinner with him.

“For company,” he explains. “And you are such good company.”

Technically, you probably shouldn’t do it. But he’s on his own, and his girlfriend has left him, and so you take your main meals together each day. You talk about cinema, about travel; you tell him about the history of some of the places you can see from the deck of the yacht; he thanks you every time for being so kind and generous with your time.

”All part of the service,” you say. But in truth, he’s very good company too.

You see him deep in conversation with Vico one morning, over a simple breakfast of tostadas with sliced tomato and olive oil. He beams when he sees you approaching. A couple of days of sun and sea air has deepened his tan, brought his freckles to the fore, and picked out lighter strands in his hair. The loose blue linen shirt and white pants he’s wearing enhance his golden aura.

”We are going to make a little stop today, to swim,” he explains, glancing up at the bright sky. “It’s so beautiful, but oof, I need to cool down.” He mimes fanning himself, eyes rolling dramatically, and you laugh.

”Perfect. Let me know a likely time and I can reschedule lunch or dinner.”

As you walk back into the bowels of the yacht, you hear Javi calling you and turn to see him trying to catch up with you.

“Everything okay?”

”Sí, sí.” He catches his breath and smiles that bright smile again.

Yep, you still have a little crush on him.

”I was going to ask… would you like to join me? You have been working so hard, and it’s so hot, think of the cool water!”

He gestures with his broad hand towards the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, like a salesman making his pitch.

It is tempting. You are somewhat used to the summers on the boat, but you still find your blouse damp and clinging to you by the end of the day, your body crying out for a cool shower.

But he is a guest, and you are the chief stew.

”I’m not sure if I can, unfortunately - I am at work, after all…”

Javi looks crestfallen, dark eyes at their most puppyish. “Could it be a break? You break for lunch, no?”

Javi Gutierrez, you’re a hard man to say no to.

”Yes, I do, but…”

Those puppy eyes work their magic. A couple of hours later, you find yourself in the dark green swimsuit you had packed for this job, just in case it was needed, standing on the deck beside Javi. You realise, with a jolt, that you’ve been checking him out - though it’s hard not to. He’s still wearing his blue shirt, but a couple more buttons are undone now, exposing the breadth of his tanned chest. The white pants have been replaced by a pair of tight navy swim shorts that highlight his strong legs and leave very little to the imagination.

You avert your eyes and blame the heat in your face on the bright sun.

He peels off his shirt and you feel yourself heating up even more. “Ready?”

“Javi, you go first. I’m… I need to get up the courage.”

He raises his eyebrows and extends a hand towards you. It takes you a moment to realise he means for you to take it.

“Come. We will jump together, sí?”

“If I drown, this is your fault.”

He laughs, then turns somber. “I will take care of you.”

He means that.

You grip Javi’s big, strong hand securely.

“Okay. Uno, dos, tres…”

You shriek with joy as you leap into the unknown, Javi still holding your hand. The cool water of the Mediterranean shocks your system as the two of you are submerged, rapidly rising again to the surface.

His smile is as bright and warm as the sun itself when he reappears from under the water, hair slicked back by the waves. Javi looks born to the sea, confidently treading water as you compose yourself.

“Es bueno, sí?”

You nod, still working through the shock of the cooler water, and a huge smile creeps across your face. “It’s incredible. I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

He laughs and lies back on the water, languidly kicking about to maintain his position, before turning smoothly round and starting to swim. Javi cuts through the water with ease, long arms and broad torso moving smoothly, sun glittering off the droplets that cover his shoulders.

He dips down into the water in a seal-like dive, feet kicking above the surface before he reappears and grins in your direction.

It is, you realise, the first moment on this trip that he has really seemed like himself.

***

He does not emerge after he goes to his stateroom to shower and change. When he doesn’t appear for dinner, you knock on his door.

”Javi? Dinner’s ready, if you are hungry?”

No reply.

”Javi?”

His voice comes through, low and sad.

“I will take dinner in my room this evening, if that is okay.”

”Of course. I’ll prepare a tray.”

You eat with Tony and Vico that night, enjoying the tagine Tony has had simmering away for most of the day but wondering what, exactly, had served to put an end to Javi’s sunny mood. Was it you, too familiar, too comfortable with the guest? Had you unsettled him?

The logical part of your brain would remind you that it was Javi who asked you to come swimming with him, who had sought your company throughout. But in your panicked state, you could only think that you had crossed some unseen line and upset him.

As you nestle into your little bunk that night, you spend a few minutes scrolling mindlessly on Instagram. A suggested post from a celebrity gossip page catches your eye.

ETTA BALBAY AND JON MARCUSO: LOVE ON SET

Your stomach lurched as you swiped through the pictures. There was Etta Balbay, walking hand in hand in New York with her co-star on her most recent movie when she was supposed to have been here, on this yacht, with Javi. Her boyfriend.

”Oh, fuck.”

***

The tagine was delicious, but Javi’s appetite was not up to much and his portion went largely untouched. He felt a little guilty, and made a mental note to apologise to Tony tomorrow.

He had been curled up in bed for most of the evening, ever since he’d checked his phone after the swimming pit stop and seen the pictures. Etta, looking very cosy with the lead guy from a film she’d had a minor role in. Etta, casually kissing that guy’s cheek in public, like she hadn’t just walked out on a relationship of almost a year. Etta, laughing a little too uproariously to be natural, hand resting on Jon Marcuso’s arm, in the middle of Manhattan.

”You are a fool, Javi Gutierrez.” He turns over and presses his face into the pillow, emitting a low, pained whine.

Another knock at the door. He swears under his breath and tries to decide whether to ignore it. He’d left his dinner tray at the door; you couldn’t possibly need anything else.

There’s no second knock, just the sound of paper slipping under his stateroom door and soft footsteps receding. Javi allows a couple of minutes to pass before he climbs out of bed and gingerly picks up the note. He recognises your handwriting.

In case you wanted a late night snack. I have arranged with Tony for breakfast to be brought to your room at the usual time tomorrow. Good night, Javi.

He opens the door. A small, round tray sits on the plush carpet, bearing a small jug of tinto de verano, some cold cuts and slices of cheese, and a little plate of old-fashioned cookies. He shakes his head as he remembers a voyage a couple of years before, when he’d made up some of the beverage - a cooling mixture of Spanish red wine and cloudy lemonade - for his guests and the entire crew, you included.

He picks up the tray and carries it into his room, placing it on his bed and taking a deep draught of the summer wine. It feels like comfort itself, refreshing and sweet and kind.

It was exactly what he needed. And you had remembered.

***

Javi reemerges just before lunch the next day, making a beeline for you as you oversee preparations with Tony. He gestures for you to join him outside on deck.

”I would like to apologise. For yesterday. And to thank you, of course. You… obviously worked out what was wrong.”

You swat away his apology and his thanks, reassuring him that it was all part of the service. “I did see the, um, photos from New York. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

He shrugs. “I feel like a fool. But at least I know for sure, now.”

”The only foolish one is her.” You clap your palm over your mouth, aware you might have gone too far. “Oh, I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “It’s good to know someone thinks that highly of me. And that they remember how to make tinto de verano.” With a wink, he pops on his sunglasses and heads with his book in the direction of a deckchair.

***

”Need anything from the shops?”

On the morning of the penultimate day on board, Tony stands at the door to your tiny office, dressed in his street clothes and holding a couple of cotton tote bags. You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

”Shops?”

He nods. “Javi and me are going to take the motorboat and call into that little fishing village near the cove, get a few things for tonight’s barbecue. I keep telling him we’ve got supplies but he seems dead set on making stuff for us, as a thank you.”

A final night barbecue on the beach was a typical feature of the itineraries offered by the company you worked for, the yacht dropping anchor near a quiet cove and guests ferried to the shore in the on-board motorboat. You usually stayed on the yacht for these events, helping to sort out the food and supplies but leaving the guests and their chef to enjoy the evening.

Javi, however, wanted the party to be as much for the crew as for himself. As evening falls over the Mediterranean he stands commandingly over the grill set up on the white sands, his red and green-patterned shirt standing out against the blue of the sky and sea. He refuses to let Tony do any work, shooing him back to his deckchair with a cold beer whenever he threatens to help out. Instead, you act as his sous-chef, setting out large bowls of salad and platters of cheeses and slicing impossibly fresh, crusty bread.

“They smell incredible, Javi.”

He smiles proudly as he turns the enormous langoustines on the grill. “I wanted to cook for you all, as a thank you. You have been so kind to me this week.” He shifts his attention to the potatoes baking on the coals, then looks up at you, eyes soft. “But then, you are always so very kind to me, when we travel together.”

You take a sip of your mug of tinto de verano and hope it will cool the ardour burning in your face. “It’s easy when you are travelling with your favourite guest.”

Javi flushes a little and looks down at the grill. “I mean it. This week, especially… it has been just what I needed, and you…”

”EVERYONE SAY HI!”

The moment is interrupted by Tony, running in your direction with his phone in hand. His wife and tiny baby are visible on the screen, albeit somewhat pixelated. You and Javi wave enthusiastically as Tony holds the phone at arm’s length, attempting to get everyone in shot. Even Vico cracks a little smile as he takes a swig from his beer.

”I’ve never met anyone so homesick. Tony might need to rethink his career and stick to dry land.”

Javi lifts the fish from the grill and fills a large platter with the beautifully-charred food. “It must be wonderful to have someone to be so homesick for, no?”

***

It was a perfect night. The food, the drink, the company, the setting: all picture-perfect. Javi toasted the crew ten times over, Vico revealed a surprisingly strong singing voice as he performed mournful Sicilian melodies, and Tony began a makeshift disco with music blaring from his phone’s tinny speaker. Everyone danced together in turn, and you fell into Javi’s arms just as the song changed to Françoise Hardy’s “Le temps de l’amour”.

On the ride back to the yacht, you wondered why, exactly, the world seemed to fall away when he spun you on the sand, pulled you to him in hold, swayed with you to the music, as if you were the only two people on earth. It’s just a crush, you reminded yourself. You’ve been together for a week, it’s natural to feel close. And he’s just had his heart broken.

Tony and Vico head to their bunks as soon as you get on board, keen to get a solid night in before the next day’s final stage to Palma. You walk with Javi down the narrow corridor that leads to your small cabin and his stateroom, talking companionably about the evening and joking about Tony’s dance moves, until you reach the door to your cabin.

”Well, this is me. Thank you, so much. It was magical. And you need to give me that recipe for the langoustines!”

He smiles that half smile, soft curls falling over his brow and eyes the colour of melted chocolate glittering in the low lighting. His voice is warm and low. “I meant what I said. I did not know how much I needed this time, how special you would make it for me.”

Before you can respond, Javi leans in and kisses you, soft and slow. A gasp of surprise catches in your throat but you cannot help but kiss him back, hands winding through his hair as he pulls you tight to him. He tastes of beer and wine and salt and sun, of the sea, of summer.

You moan as he pushes you against the wall, but force yourself to break the embrace. “Javi… I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t, not with guests, not - oh god, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to disguise his hurt, but his eyes give him away. “No, no. It’s okay, I should not have done that.”

Yes, you should have. But you keep quiet.

You lean in and take his hand. “And maybe this is just a rebound thing, you know? You’ll probably wake tomorrow and be glad it stopped here, that you didn’t go any further with me.”

For a moment, Javi looks like he is about to speak. But he just nods and kisses you on the cheek, wishes you goodnight, and quietly enters his room.

***

The crew line up on the jetty in Palma the next day, ready to give Javi the traditional goodbye. He has changed into more formal attire, a light blue jacket and cream pants with a light coloured shirt, and his driver quickly carries his luggage to the waiting car as Javi embraces each of you in turn. He hands Tony a little Paddington Bear toy, a gift for the baby waiting for him at home.

You are the last in the lineup, and he kisses your cheeks before pulling you in for a slightly nervous hug. “I meant it,” he whispers in your ear. “Thank you.”

You watch with uncertain feelings as Javi waves a final goodbye. You make a quick return to your quarters to collect your things, call a cab, and get off the yacht. Two weeks of long-overdue leave lay ahead, and you would spend it in a tiny apartment near Palma’s cathedral, exploring the city and enjoying the nearby beaches. It would, you tell yourself as you wait for the taxi, clear your head: of Javi, of those sad, beautiful eyes, and of the memory of a perfect kiss that is replaying on a loop in your mind’s eye.

***

A voice calls your name, the sound cutting through the crowds meandering through the city’s narrow streets that sunny evening, about a week after you’d left the yacht. At first, you think you must be imagining it - until you turn and see Javi Gutierrez moving towards you through the crowds, somehow looking even more handsome than you remembered in his dark green suit. His eyes widen as he reaches you and takes you in, before kissing you on the cheek.

”Hermosa.” He almost breathes the word as he surveys your long sundress and espadrilles, newly purchased in Palma as a much-needed respite from your usual wardrobe.

“You are too kind, Javi,” you respond, suddenly conscious of his gaze. “And you are looking rather guapo.”

He grins and nods shyly. “I have been having meetings in the city the last couple of days, staying at our little apartment here.” He gestures to the perfectly-cut suit. “So, I must dress to impress.”

You feel a smile creep across your face, an unconscious sign of how happy just being in his company makes you.

Javi places a hand on your arm, gently. “Are you free? We could have a drink, perhaps - some food? Unless you do not want to, perhaps you have plans. No, you probably have plans, of course, what am I -“

“Javi? I would love to have a drink with you. Lead the way.”

***

Over some ice-cold glasses of local vermouth with orange slices, he regales you with stories about his future projects, seeking your thoughts and opinions on the various concepts and scripts he is working on. You talk about the city, about your plans for the rest of your time there, your next voyages.

He orders a second round, as well as a platter of cheese and olives, and you broach the subject.

“So… how are you doing? After, well, everything.”

Javi pops a green olive in his mouth and chews thoughtfully before spitting out the stone discreetly. “I am okay, I think. Still shocked, perhaps, but a week at sea, then being alone the last few days… Well. It gave me time to reflect, to think about what I want.”

You sip your drink, not wanting to interrupt, and he continues.

”Perhaps I should have noticed that it was not going as well as I thought it was, that we were perhaps not as connected as I believed.” He shrugs. “She told me that she hoped I would find someone who ‘loved me for me’. It seems that she did not love me for me, no?”

His expression is so open, so genuine, that it makes your heart ache as you struggle to imagine how anyone could not love this man for who he was.

“You deserve that, Javi,” you say quietly, emboldened by the vermouth. “And I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who couldn’t want you for who you are.”

He looks at you with a wry smile, eyes twinkling. “Except for Etta Balbay, of course.”

You chuckle. “You’ve got me there.”

He sips his drink before turning back to you, studying your features in silence before speaking a little hesitantly. “I have to tell you something. When I kissed you on the boat - it was not a ‘rebound’ thing, like you said. I…care too much about you for that.”

Your eyes widen as they meet his, warm and earnest. Fuck. He means it.

Gingerly, you reach to tuck an errant strand of Javi’s honey-brown locks behind his ear, fingers gently caressing the side of his face as you test the waters. He smiles softly, leaning into your touch.

“I care about you too, Javi. And not just because you’re my favourite guest.”

You lean in before you can second-guess yourself. His lips are as soft and enticing as you remember, the slight bristle of his moustache against your mouth making you sigh happily as you deepen the embrace. He cups your face in his hands as he kisses you, full of want and desire, right there on the café terrace. He leaves you panting when he breaks away, a confused look on his face.

“What about the rule? Not with guests?”

“I’m on holiday, and you’re not a guest now.” You smile knowingly, before leaning in for another kiss. “Would you…like to get out of here? My rented flat is five minutes away.”

He grins, and signals for the bill while you disappear to powder your nose.

***

You give in to a shared, surprisingly intense desire as soon as the door of the apartment closes behind you. Javi knows exactly how to handle you, guiding you against the wall of the tiny flat and kissing you deeply as he fumbles to undo the buttons on the front of your sundress while you tug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He pauses for a moment in the half-light to admire your breasts, cupped by the red lace of your bra, before bringing his mouth to your nipples, sucking each one in turn through the delicate fabric. He moans against you when you unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, slipping your hand inside his black boxer briefs to feel the stiff length of his cock.

“Good?”

He closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure. “Sí. So, so good. Keep going.”

He pulls down the fabric of the bra to expose your tits, grunting and muttering sweet nothings in a hybrid tongue of English and Spanish as he grinds against your palm. With your free hand you reach for his, guiding it under the skirt of your dress and to the apex of your thighs. You gaze into each other’s eyes as he roughly pulls down your panties and slips two thick fingers between your folds, fingertips expertly working your clit.

“God, I want you, Javi.” You whine with pleasure as you ride his fingers, still stroking his cock. “Want you, want to fuck you so much.”

He groans with need and pulls you to the little bedroom, laying you down on the edge of the bed as he gets to his knees and drags off your red panties before tossing them behind him. His pinky ring glints against your thigh as he parts your legs and looks up at you, admiring your pussy as he prepares to worship.

“I want you too - so much. Eres tan hermosa,” he murmurs, peppering the delicate skin of your inner thighs with kisses before he places his lips over your wet cunt. He has you bucking and moaning within seconds, sucking your clit over and over, working it with the perfect line of his nose, before slipping his tongue in and out of you until you come, loudly, against his face.

As you ride out your orgasm, you sit up a little and beckon him to you, opening your legs a little wider to accommodate his beautiful body.

“C’mere, Javi.” You take one of the condoms you bought in the café bathroom out of your purse before pulling down his pants and boxers. It’s difficult not to exclaim in anticipation at the sight of him, so hard and ready for you.

He’s already nudging against your entrance as you pull the rubber carefully over his cock and line him up to take you. The stretch is slow and intense as Javi pushes inside you, your walls already clenching around him. He squeezes his eyes as he adjusts to the feeling before he starts to rock against your hips.

“Feel good?” You wrap your arms around his broad back as he fucks you, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. Javi pants and whines with pleasure.

“Incredible. So good, so tight for me.” He picks up the pace a little as he learns what you like and what you can take, hooking an arm under one of your thighs and pressing into the flesh as he fucks you ever deeper and ever harder. “You’re delicious, amor, so perfect - fuck!”

He grunts loudly when he sees you slip your hand between your warm bodies, massaging your swollen clit until you come again, clenching around him. When you open your eyes, he’s gazing down at you, handsome face full of pleasure and desire and a kind of wonder.

“Hi.” He slows the roll of his hips a little, taking you at a more languid pace, and leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, a perfect accompaniment to the more heated passion that led you to the bed and a delicious sensation as you come down from your orgasm.

You savour the taste of yourself on his lips and smile at how utterly gorgeous this man is, hair mussed and falling forward, eyes warm and pussy-drunk and a little grin dancing around his full lips. God, he’s beautiful.

“Hi, you.”

“Es bueno?”

“Mmmm, sí. So, so good, Javi.” With a gentle nudge of your thighs, you move together to shift positions, riding him slowly and steadily as his broad hands grip your thighs. You arch an eyebrow when he almost seems to giggle at one point, embarrassment immediately flushing over his face. You slow down and pause.

“What’s funny?”

He smiles and shakes his head, cheeks pink. “I - I don’t know. You are so beautiful, this is so good, I feel…”

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling his smile spread against your lips. “You feel…happy?”

He nods, unable to say anything more as you begin to fuck him again with a slow, deep roll of your hips and a huge smile on your face.

***

He wakes you with tender kisses after a night that involved very little sleep, beard bristling against the bare skin of your neck, your arms, your breasts. The smile that greets you as you blink awake is like your own personal ray of sunshine.

“I hope you don’t mind waking up to me in your bed.”

You giggle. “Not in the least. I love waking up to you in my bed.”

He grins, rolls over, and spoons you, holding you to him with those strong, tanned arms. He nods to the little side table, where a tray with two cups of coffee sits, before nuzzling against your neck.

“Good! I love waking up in your bed too. And I made coffee.” He stops nuzzling for a moment. “I hope I remembered the way you like it.”

You wriggle over and turn to face him, tracing the outline of his features with the tip of your finger and kissing him gently. “I’m sure you did.”

He smiles. “I meant it yesterday, when I said I care about you. I think I have cared about you for a long time, but…I did not know if you cared about me.”

“I cared - I care - about you, Javi. More than I think I realised. Do you know now?”

Javi nods and kisses your forehead. “Sí.”

Further A/N: My choice of the late, legendary Francoise Hardy's "Le temps de l'amour" for Javi and Reader's dance on the beach was directly inspired by this scene from Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, which I just adore. Please enjoy, it's so sweet. (Pedro in an Anderson movie when?!)

youtube

#summerlovin24 #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt #tuwomt fanfiction #fic challenge #fic event #ladameecrit #Youtube

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tarjeismoeworknews · 3 months ago

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Tarjei won jury's award for best screenplay for his graduation film Jeg følte jeg måtte være her (I felt I had to be here) at Amandus Blikkfang festival.

Best Screenplay is awarded to a story where much of the power lies in what is left unsaid. A story where the protagonist is absent. For the parents, this is a horror film. For us in the jury, it is a distinctive and very well-written and executed film about those who remain.

The jury also announced that Jeg følte jeg måtte være her qualified for Amanda for best short film.

Amandus Blikkfang festival is a film festival for students and young adults from all over the Nordics.

You can watch his and other Den norske filmskolen graduation films on Montages.no

#tarjei #tarjei sandvik moe #tarjeisandvikmoe #ifeltihadtobehere #IFeltIHadToBeHere

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mariacallous · 1 month ago

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Over the past two years, stories of foreigners moving to Russia for ideological reasons have become a recurring theme in the country’s media. In October 2024, Russia’s Interior Ministry reported a surge in applications for temporary residence permits from citizens of “unfriendly nations.” Many of these expats, dissatisfied with so-called “LGBT propaganda” and feminism in their home countries, have turned to YouTube to share their experiences of life in Russia and promote “traditional values” — often relying on sexualized portrayals of Russian women to draw in viewers. Since 2023, the Russian government has poured millions of rubles into promoting the country’s image as a haven for disillusioned Westerners. The reporting project Glasnaya investigated how successful these YouTube trends have been and what narratives pro-Russian foreign vloggers are spreading. Meduza shares an abridged English-language version of their reporting.

Samuel Hyland, a 46-year-old from Nottingham in the U.K., moved to Russia in the early 2000s, settled in Vladimir, and eventually gained citizenship. Hyland speaks decent Russian, having developed an interest in the language as a teenager after a Russian family moved into his neighborhood.

In 2017, he launched a YouTube channel, Sam’s Russian Adventures, where he documents life in provincial Russia in English. His channel only really took off in 2022, though, when he began posting videos about exploring abandoned places and life in Russia under Western sanctions.

A woman named Milena frequently appears in Hyland’s videos. In one clip, she strolls with him through a village wearing tight, neon workout gear and holding a cardboard sign that reads, “Looking for a husband.” In another, she rocks back and forth on a piece of children’s play equipment in a white corset and a long silky black skirt, as she gazes up at Hyland. “Would you fly in my plane?” she asks. “Of course! You’re such a smart and beautiful girl,” he replies.

Hyland has found a simple formula to attract viewers: clickbait titles. Choice examples include “Russian Girl Shows Me Her Ass,” “Englishman Invited to GIRLS ONLY Party in RUSSIA,” and “She told me THIS was forbidden in RUSSIA.” The actual content is mundane — looking at art at a market in Vladimir, attending a yoga festival, or getting yelled at by a local woman for filming.

He pairs the provocative titles with voyeuristic thumbnails catering to the male gaze. In one, a young woman in a tight black dress that exposes her cleavage licks a popsicle while locking eyes with the camera. The video, titled “I got SCAMMED in Russia,” is about Hyland getting swindled while buying a car during his early years in the country.

Hyland, whose videos attract anywhere from a few thousand to half a million views, says this is what his audience wants. He’s complained that YouTube deprioritized his content after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine since he shows the “real Russia” without “Western propaganda.” In his videos, Hyland emphasizes that Russia is a country of “traditional values,” where women view men as providers and continue to care for their appearance after having children — unlike, he claims, women in the West.

When Hyland learns that a woman he’s speaking to has kids, he showers her with compliments and praises Russian women for their ability to maintain their looks. In one video, a woman remarks, “When you watch TV, [Western women] are all plus-size. Here, everyone takes care of their body, diet, [and goes to] the gym, even after having two kids.” Hyland enthusiastically agrees.

The British YouTuber has tried his hand at various ventures while living in Russia. In 2012, he opened an English language school in Vladimir, but the business failed. Now, Hyland focuses on his two YouTube channels and offers consultations for foreigners interested in moving to Russia. His website also features a section called “Russian Dating.” Hyland claims foreign men and Russian women often ask him to set them up. So far, though, there’s just one sample profile on his site.

‘Traditional values’

English-language YouTube channels about life in Russia occupy a small niche, but topics about relationships with women and discussions of feminism are quite popular. Videos on who should pay the bill on a date, the differences between American and Russian women, and how to win over a Russian woman often attract hundreds of thousands of views.

Many of these channels are run by foreigners who moved to Russia after marrying Russian women, says Natasha, the creator of the English-language YouTube channel Natasha’s Adventures, where she documented life in her hometown of Spassk-Dalny in Russia’s Far East before emigrating. “These are people who adhere to so-called traditional family values and have become disillusioned with the West,” she said. “According to them, rainbow flags are everywhere in the West, but in Russia, the traditional family is still preserved. They’re often well-off individuals with Western salaries, savings, and property.”

One of the vloggers Natasha is talking about is former U.S. Marine Daniel Castellon. He came to Siberia in April 2022 to explore the region and “test himself,” but when he landed in Irkutsk, he struggled to find anyone who spoke English — except for one woman. Two years later, they got married, and Castellon shared the wedding on his YouTube channel, Wild Siberia.

A former Californian, Castellon calls Siberia the “new frontier for freedom.” He purchased land in the town of Slyudyanka on Lake Baikal, where he grows radishes and goes fishing with his father-in-law. Castellon says he appreciates that Russia, unlike the U.S., respects “traditional values,” and he says he admires Russian women for being “wise” and desiring men who will “protect and love them.” In his view, such women are becoming harder to find in the U.S. and Europe due to “LGBT propaganda.”

He also believes masculinity is rooted in military service, lamenting that the U.S. military now recruits LGBTQ+ people. In one of his videos, Castellon says the U.S. is currently being run by “weak men,” which is dragging the country downhill, while Russians are constantly dealing with harsh weather, sanctions, and global pressure, “so they’re always creating strong men.”

Castellon views Russia’s war in Ukraine as an opportunity for young men from small towns like Slyudyanka. He admits that there have been casualties but says “not all will die, obviously,” adding that the money from Russian soldiers’ “exploits” will benefit the economy in their hometowns.

A ‘moral refuge’

According to Natasha, videos about Russia on YouTube can be fairly lucrative. “There isn’t much content about Russia in the West, especially in English. The country has always been interesting to foreigners, even before the war — some studied Russian, others had roots here. After the war started, many also became curious about Russian politics,” she explained.

The Russian government has been working to capitalize on this interest, positioning the country as a “moral refuge” for Westerners who share “traditional family values.” In 2023 and 2024, the Presidential Fund for Cultural Initiatives allocated about six million rubles ($60,000) to a competition called From Russia with Love, which aims to fill the gap in content presenting Russia as “an attractive country to live in.”

English-speaking foreign vloggers are encouraged to select video ideas from “patriotic” Russian YouTubers and collaborate with them. “There are long-standing ideological trends justifying leaving Russia for the ‘West’ as practically the only positive path for progressive youth,” reads the project description. “At the same time, many educated, well-earning residents of Europe and America, for political or ideological reasons, no longer wish to live in these countries and are either considering Russia as a destination for relocation or have already moved here.”

Since September 1, 2024, foreigners who share “traditional Russian spiritual and moral values” can apply for temporary residence in Russia through a simplified process. Applicants are not required to know Russian, or the country’s laws or history. Pro-Kremlin foreign vloggers have actively been making videos about the new decree, often using the opportunity to promote their own products, such as consultation services for those considering moving to Russia.

Some of the most notorious foreign vloggers sit on From Russia with Love’s panel of experts. Among them is Tim Kirby, who immigrated to Russia from the U.S. in 2006. Kirby says he made the move after his daughter’s school principal in the U.S. threatened to involve child protective services if she continued to miss classes.

In Russia, Kirby worked as a host on various propaganda outlets such as Russia Today and the Christian Orthodox news network Tsargrad TV. He speaks fluent Russian and got Russian citizenship a few years ago. Kirby runs a YouTube channel where he documents his travels across Russia. Unlike many other English-speaking vloggers, he rarely features Russian women in his videos. “It’s much better for society when men are valued,” he claimed. “When a woman admires a man, she bonds with him — and a family and a marriage begin. But when a woman is put on a pedestal, she ends up alone, buying cats and boxed wine at 40.”

The project’s creators envision these “experts” providing “guidance” to Russian YouTubers, helping them see their hometowns “through the eyes of foreigners.” They also hope to leverage the “wow factor” of titles like “Expat Vloggers Shocked by the Real Russia” to create viral content and attract large audiences.

In 2023, the videos produced for the competition exceeded expectations, garnering more than a million combined views (compared to the anticipated 100,000), according to the competition’s website. One winning video, about how “Crimea has transformed over 10 years as part of the Russian Federation,” garnered more than 1.4 million views. However, the results were mixed. Of the 10 videos featured on the project’s site, four received only a few hundred views, while another four ranged from 2,200 to 11,000 views. As of this writing the least-viewed video, Union of Fathers, hasn’t even broken 300.

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kimbapisnotsushi · 9 months ago

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here are some more miscellaneous post-ts headcanons but this time we're not going pro teams we're taking a walk on the side of your average working adult let's go!!

okay let's be real do we REALLY think lev is in charge of his own social media accounts bc i feel like that's a dumpster fire waiting to happen

i'm going to say yes because it's funny as hell

he tweets things like "lol i worked with [insert older veteran actor here] today i had no idea he was such an asshole" and gets frantic phone calls from the pr team like three seconds after posting

his instagram is also full of like. really blurry casual pics and just doesn't look professionally curated at all but the fans love him for it

i'm actually super curious as to whether he gets typecasted a lot and if so i'd love to know what it is

i want to say goofy comic relief side character?? so when he gets selected for a serious drama role nobody is expecting him to blow it out of the water but he does!!!!!!

also another thing lev does that gives his pr team a heart attack is when he posts anything vaguely related to his love life. which funnily enough are the only quality non-shitposts he does himself

like you've got the aesthetic silhouettes against a wall, the hands intertwined on a candlelit table, the vague tweets of "so lucky to wake up next to you. wish it would never end <3" and everyone's going WILD trying to figure out who it is

(and, well, nobody is going to notice shibayama yuuki liking the posts amidst all the other pro volleyball players who do, right?)

shirabu's got a rep in med school for having the worst fucking bedside manner of all time

well not really i think he's like. the kind where fellow/older colleagues and such judge him for it and they think that he could stand to be a LITTLE bit nicer but if he works with kids or whatever i bet the kids would actually really like him.

he's dry and straightforward and calm and takes them seriously and treats them like adults. the only thing he does to baby them is dumb down the medical jargon into an explanation they can actually understand

ugh shirabu actually makes me really soft for what an asshole he is

oh but if you're a bitch ass bastard for no reason he'll try to be as snarky as he can be without like. getting reported to hr or whatever

sorry i know this probably isn't how medical professionalism works irl once again i just think it'd be really funny

also can i just say that i think it's the funniest fucking thing that komi became an actor. like where the hell did THAT come from

i feel like he got thrust into doing a role for a class play during cultural festival season and got hooked on it probably? because literally when else would he have the time to get into/practice that kind of shit

that's probably a fun fact he drops during a magazine interview or something LMAAAAO

"yeah volleyball practice took up most of my time, and i never really thought about doing anything else. but then things changed in my third year of high school when i got cast for cinderella . . ."

speaking of fukurodani. yukie and kaori my beloveds

i skipped out on them during my managers post which i regret deeply and dearly so here they are!!

full disclaimer i don't know how sports promoters actually work i'm assuming they promote whatever sports games they are assigned instead of just sticking to one sport only? which means that whenever kaorie gets her hands on something that isn't volleyball she gets a dozen texts from bokuto moaning about betrayal and treason and all that

when kaori gets with someone she meets through work (so someone on a pro sports team) the rest of fukurodani are like "okay but he's a BASEBALL PLAYER" as if being a baseball player is the most atrocious thing a person could be

kaori's like "guys come ON i told him all of you were cool!" and everyone's like "now why in the world would you tell him that"

yukie has a decently popular cooking channel that is loved not for her yummy recipes or her aesthetic filming but because none of her kitchenware matches

she just collects whatever she likes + a bunch of shit that's been gifted to her and while it should make her kitchen look cluttered it's all just very cozy and lived-in

like. all her pots and pans are different colors and themes. no pair of chopsticks are the same. she has a ladle shaped like a dinosaur and a teapot glazed with magnolias on the side

her recipes DO slap tho she and osamu collab a lot

UGH i love them living nice fulfilling adult lives i wish that were me

#hey guys i am. slowly trying to get back in the game!!#haiba lev #shibayama yuuki #komi haruki #shirabu kenjirou #shirofuku yukie #suzumeda kaori #shibalev #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu hcs #sou says stuff

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riversofmars · 1 year ago

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So, for a 4th (!!!) year in a row, I've done a 25 part Christmas story for the festive season - a DW advent calendar of sorts! This year, we're going to Scandinavia for lots of snow, Northern Lights, and to solve a Christmas mystery involving Santa Claus; and to have yet another Stranded fix-it. Also, inspired by far too many cozy Christmas reels... XD

I won't be cross-posting the chapters so please follow the link to AO3 for everything that follows. This is the first part, hope you enjoy it and have a lovely festive season! <3

Do They Know It's Christmas - Part 1

Helen swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away a thin film of sweat that had gathered there through the morning’s surprisingly strenuous activities. A light dusting of flour rained down into her face and all in all, she decided the gesture had been more trouble than worth - fine crumbs of dough ended up in her hair.

“For goodness sake-” she shook her head, hoping to free herself from the unwanted pastry, taking a step away from the work surface in the TARDIS kitchen. When she had woken with the urge to bake it had been a romantic, peaceful notion, far removed from the reality she found herself in. She should have stayed in bed, she decided, though it was too late to turn back now. Abandoning the dough, she brushed her hands clean on the apron she was wearing. The TARDIS had been kind enough to provide her with everything she could possibly need, and she resolved to at least sweep up by the end of it as she expected the ship would be rather annoyed if she left the traces of her misadventures everywhere.

Picking up her tea that was lukewarm at best by this point, she scowled at the offending mass of flour, butter, egg and sugar, wondering where she was going wrong. It just kept sticking to her fingers. Her grandma had always made it look so easy…

“Something smells delicious!” Liv’s voice startled her and Helen nearly dropped her tea. Looking around, she spotted her best friend walking into the kitchen, a big smile plastered across her face and instantly, the linguist’s annoyance was wiped away. The med-tech had a way of brightening every room she walked into with that wonderful smile of hers that she employed far too sparingly. There was little that warmed Helen’s heart as much as knowing herself to be the cause of that smile.

“That’d be the mincemeat,” she answered with a little sigh, gesturing toward the bowl of filling she had pushed to the far side of the work surface. That bit had been surprisingly easy, and it did fill the room with a lovely smell of cinnamon and fruit.

“What?” Liv blinked, dumbfounded for a moment. She looked to the bowl, then to Helen and finally around the kitchen. “I thought you’re baking?” It was one of those rare but precious moments when the med-tech’s lack of knowledge where Earth traditions were concerned became obvious, and it filled the linguist’s heart to the brim with affection for her - as if that wasn’t already the case anyway.

“Oh, that’s what you call the filling for these. It’s not actually meat,” she answered with a good-natured chuckle, and the brunette didn’t seem quite convinced.

“Right…” she took a step closer, shooting her another doubtful look and a smirk drew to Helen’s lips. Opportunities to tease her best friends were always welcome.

“I would have thought you’d be getting used to Christmas by now,” she challenged, raising her eyebrows and the penny appeared to drop.

“Oh, are they meant to be those little pies with fruit filling?” Liv exclaimed, her confusion giving way to excitement.

“Yes!” the blonde grinned, returning to the dough on the worktop. She had to get on with it, else she’d be there all day. She probably just needed to use a bit more flour so it stopped sticking.

“Right, okay!” Liv beamed and quickly made her way over as well. She stepped up next to her, grabbing hold of the work top as she glanced over, and Helen felt a need to justify herself.

“Doesn’t look like much yet, have yet to get the pastry right,” she explained, adding a generous handful of flour to the mix and started to knead it once more.

“Can I help?” the med-tech asked, looking up to her and Helen could hardly suppress a laugh, lovely as her offer was.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your track record?” she teased, pleased to find the dough was approaching the right consistency now. Maybe it was Liv’s mere presence that was making the difference, much as it always did.

“Probably not…” the brunette’s face fell with disappointment and for a moment, Helen felt bad. It was lovely of her to offer and a brief vision overcame her, the idea of showing her how to go about kneading the dough, possibly standing behind her, placing her hands across hers and guiding them. She fought the thought back into submission, interrupted when her friend suggested: “But I could make you another cup of tea?” she offered hopefully. “And keep you company?”

And that was all Helen ever wanted, to have her with her, always.

“That sounds lovely” she smiled, trying her best not to let her affection for her overwhelm her. It simply wouldn’t do. At least, she didn’t think it would, but then, there were moments, something in the way her friend looked at her that made her wonder, made her wish, made her hope… Maybe, despite all the timing malfunctions they had suffered along the way, there was hope for them still.

“Not entirely altruistic…” Liv hummed as she set about making tea. “Can’t wait to try these.” She watched intently as Helen pushed the pastry into the muffin tin and started filling the small pies. “Any particular reason why you’re making these today?”

“Not really… just woke up in a Christmassy mood, I suppose,” the linguist answered offhandedly. There really had been no particular rhyme or reason behind it, but the thought hadn’t left her since she had woken that morning and was, perhaps, helped along a little by the knowledge that Liv loved Christmas foods - even if the festivities themselves still appeared rather alien to her. If she was being perfectly honest, there was very little she did without her best friend in mind.

“I mean… it sort of works out…” the brunette mused while Helen pushed the first tray into the oven. “Probably been about a year since our Christmas in Baker Street?”

Helen tensed up. Still, all this time later, the linguist didn’t particularly like being reminded of the time they had been stranded in London. It had been a difficult time, for her more so than most. Liv, at least, had had other distractions…

“I suppose so, yeah…” she gave back without looking at her, busying herself with the second tray of pies. She knew, if she did, her best friend would likely be able to see what remained of her heartbreak in her eyes. The carefree joy she’d felt moments ago was wiped away in a disorienting, painful blow.

“And we’ve hardly stopped since I’ve been back…” Liv added cautiously, seemingly sensing the melancholy mood that immediately spread through the kitchen. It was impossible to deny the effects their stint in the 21st century had left on them - and even more so the fact that Liv had had to go back… At least for a time.

“You know… I hardly noticed you going…” Helen replied, trying her best to sound ambivalent when she’d been far from that. It hadn’t been the first time that Liv had spent time away from the TARDIS and they had gone about it the same way as they had done when she had stayed on Kaldor for a year. They had returned her to 21st century London, mere minutes after they had left there, and picked her up a year later, though under far more difficult, involuntary circumstances. Kaldor had been a joy, London however…

“I know but…” the med-tech huffed, leaning against the kitchen side. “I did…” She took a deep breath, then cast her eyes over to the blonde. “And I didn’t want to go.” She spoke the words with vulnerability that made Helen’s heart ache. For her and the Doctor, it had been only minutes, while Liv had had to live a full year there - and Helen still felt the effects from it.

“I know…” she nodded, cursing the circumstances that had brought them there. They’d only had themselves to blame: They shouldn’t have had sneak-peek at their future, even if it hadn't been intentional, but the temptation had been too great. Reading one's future meant setting it in stone - things would have to happen the way they’d been recorded - and to find out Liv spent 2021 in London - without Helen and the Doctor - had been a painful, disorienting realistion.

They had talked about it at length, and the Doctor had been ever so apologetic about not being able to change things. Even he couldn’t undo something that had already happened where history was concerned. Time worked in mysterious ways, and when you caught a glimpse of the future, no matter how unfortunate, how involuntary, there was no way of avoiding it - better to get it over with.

Even now, a good few months later, they were none the wiser why Liv had had to return to that time after choosing to continue her travels with the Doctor without regrets. She had made her peace with Tania and that had been that but then…

Helen didn’t know the details of what Liv had experienced in that year away from them, she didn’t like to talk about it and the linguist didn’t like asking. Even knowing that Liv couldn’t have waited to come back to them didn’t quite take away from the pang of jealousy that she felt every time she thought about it.

“I spent that Christmas just… waiting…” the brunette carried on, her voice painfully wistful, and Helen couldn’t bear to think about it any longer.

“Well… you’re back now…” she interjected and forced a smile, looking around to her. Even though she had only been without her best friend for minutes, their relationship had been changed by it, simply through the act of leaving and the knowledge that she’d had a year’s worth of experiences without her. It had been strange at first, creating a painful distance, much like what Helen had felt during their stay in London, but slowly, they were getting back to normal and she hoped they could continue as they were.

“I am…” Liv confirmed and she gave an emotional smile that went some way to dispersing the tension. As the lovely warm smell of Christmas baking started spreading through the kitchen, a thought occurred to Helen. Something that could, potentially, help them regain what had been taken from them over through no real fault of their own.

“Maybe we could… ask the Doctor for a Christmas,” she suggested cautiously, wondering if she could, somehow, make up for the Christmasses her friend had had in London - and not just the one she’d had by herself. Maybe, they could be replaced by new memories.

#doctor who #fanfiction #liv chenka #helen sinclair #eighth doctor #femslash #big finish #liv x helen #christmas #advent calendar #christmas fluff #slow burn #fix it

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zhng96 · 1 year ago

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𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ― K. GYUVIN.

OOO. oceans 9 (2)

mlist. | prev. | next.

taglist (bold can’t be tagged): @xinxinyy @sparklingsjy @sunoik @keilovr @tocupid

kim jiwoong - film major, junior, has a passion for both writing and acting in films, has been in a few student projects here and there and has even directed some, hopes to submit a film later this year into a festival, well known name around campus for those who attend arts nights (he either pretends to not know his popularity or genuinely is clueless.)

zhang hao - music major, junior, passionate violinist, works part-time as a high school music teacher, quite well known around the school for not only his skills on the violin but also his looks, he knows he has admirers, but isn’t fully aware or the sheer amount…

sung hanbin - pre-med major, sophmore, known for his kindness and selflessness, many many admirers but wants to focus on his studies so he lets them down easy, quite shy, is such a mother to his 8 close friends.

seok matthew - astronomy major, sophmore, knows yn through some shared classes but not well, works part-time at a shoe store, knows haknyeon as they were neighbours during their childhood.

#. . . 🖋️ zhng’s prose #zb1 #zerobaseone #kimgyuvin #gyuvin #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin smau #kim gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin fluff #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 smau #zerobaseone x reader

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sustainable-art-magazine · 6 months ago

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ARCA. SIRACUSA - Associazione Rinascimento Culturale Archimedeo

Euro Med Festival - 2024 Tonino Accolla

Nona edizione del Premio Tonino Accolla. Siracusa/Noto 29 – 30 giugno e 1 luglio 2024.

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Per questa nuova edizione del primo e unico contest live per allievi doppiatori provenienti dalle scuole di doppiaggio italiane e straniere, saranno Piazza Minerva a Siracusa nel centro storico di Ortigia e Palazzo Nicolaci a Noto - dove si svolgerà il workshop, primo Forum Internazionale Intelligenza artificiale per abbattere le barriere degli audiolesi e ipovedenti nel Cinema e nel Doppiaggio - ad accogliere pubblico e partecipanti in tre serate articolate fra spettacolo, competizione e approfondimenti. Il workshop è organizzato dall’associazione ARCA e dal Centro Studi Economia Internazionale ai Fondi Europei.

Il Premio, come sempre, è intitolato a Tonino Accolla, celebre doppiatore e direttore di doppiaggio (da Titanic a Braveheart, per citarne qualcuno), nato a Siracusa il 6 aprile del 1949 e scomparso a Roma nel 2013, voce italiana, tra altri, di Eddie Murphy e Homer Simpson, Mickey Rourke e Kenneth Branagh.

Questa rinnovata edizione del festival vuole sensibilizzare, attraverso il linguaggio universale del Cinema e del Doppiaggio, le nuove generazioni sulle tematiche al centro del dibattito istituzionale europeo, come l’ambiente e l’inclusione sociale.

La manifestazione è patrocinata dal Comune di Siracusa, con il sostegno e la collaborazione del sindaco di Noto, Corrado Figura, del sindaco di Siracusa Francesco Italia e dell’assessore alla Cultura e Turismo, Fabio Granata.

“Si conferma anche per questa edizione la presenza del Gruppo Irem – sottolinea Stefania Altavilla, direttrice artistica e presidente di ARCA – a sostegno della cultura, della formazione dei giovani e dell’agire nel sociale. Un particolare ringraziamento va al suo amministratore delegato, Giovanni Musso”.

La conduzione dello spettacolo quest’anno sarà affidata a Maurizio Merluzzo – attore, doppiatore e youtuber – e a Vanessa Galipoli, artista ed imprenditrice, conduttrice televisiva. Fra gli ospiti, Emanuela Rossi – Premio Tonino Accolla e Premio Eccellenza 2018 e voce di Cate Blanchet, Nicole Kidman – direttrice di doppiaggio e dialoghista; Marco Eugenio Di Giandomenico, scrittore, curatore e critico d’arte contemporanea; Rodolfo Bianchi, attore, doppiatore, insignito tra altri del premio per la migliore direzione di doppiaggio per The Departed il bene e il male, Shutter Island, The Wolf of Wall Street e The Hateful Eight; sul palco si alterneranno fra interviste e performances doppiatori pluripremiati come Flavio Aquilone,

Valentina Favazza, Erica Necci e Yuri Bedini, quest’ultimo direttore di doppiaggio e con Tonino Accolla assistente al doppiaggio di numerosi film. Sul palco il musicista Antonino Martorana che insieme all’ artista Marilena Vita creeranno una sinestesia (fenomeno sensoriale/percettivo, esperienza plurisensoriale) di suoni e immagini. Il 30 giugno sarà fra gli ospiti Walter Ricci, musicista e crooner che ha duettato con artisti del calibro di Michel Bublè, Mario Biondi, Dianne Reeves.

La manifestazione, che cresce di anno in anno confermandosi tra gli eventi più prestigiosi a Siracusa, ideata da Stefania Altavilla – direttrice artistica, presidente dell’associazione ARCA, project manager e art director del Festival – e da Giuseppe Mandalari, nasce nel 2014 con la collaborazione iniziale e il supporto tecnico di Ambi Picture e Fonoroma e ha lo scopo di promuovere e valorizzare l’arte del doppiaggio. Sono coinvolte le scuole di doppiaggio italiane e le società di Produzione come la CD Cine Dubbing. Collabora al progetto e partecipa all’organizzazione Lorenzo Accolla, attore, doppiatore, direttore di doppiaggio. Dagli ultimi anni l’organizzazione si avvale anche della collaborazione di Carola Mandalari, come responsabile di produzione.

Come nelle ultime edizioni, il Premio Tonino Accolla si svolgerà in chiave ancora più dinamica rispetto al passato: si alterneranno momenti di spettacolo a momenti musicali, mantenendo alto il momento del Contest-live, vero appeal del Festival, durante il quale sei allievi (tre uomini e tre donne), dopo una preselezione avvenuta a Roma sotto la direzione di Lorenzo Accolla – con la collaborazione della CD Cine Dubbing - si confronteranno nell’esecuzione di doppiaggi live individuali e di coppia articolati su più prove.

La giuria tecnica quest’anno vedrà la partecipazione, così come nelle passate edizioni, di alcuni tra i migliori doppiatori e direttori del doppiaggio italiano. Alla giuria tecnica verrà affiancata una giuria di giornalisti e critici cinematografici, che conferirà il Premio Stampa.

E quest’anno, l’associazione ARCA – da un’idea di Stefania Altavilla e del critico d’arte Marco Eugenio Di Giandomenico – istituisce il Premio Promozione Cinema dedicato ad Adriano Pintaldi, scomparso nel 2023. Pintaldi è stato per più di cinquant’anni tra le figure più rappresentative del mondo della comunicazione e della promozione cinematografica. Questa nona edizione del Premio Tonino Accolla terrà dunque a battesimo il Premio Promozione Cinema con un tribute ad Adriano Pintaldi, e per realizzare questo intento saranno coinvolte personalità autorevoli del cinema e della cultura fra i quali il regista Pupi Avati, Laura Delli Colli e l'attrice Antonella Salvucci. Il Premio Promozione Cinema, la cui prima edizione è prevista per l’anno prossimo nel contesto della decima edizione del Premio Tonino Accolla, “vuole valorizzare -

spiegano Altavilla e Di Giandomenico - figure del mondo delle istituzioni, delle professioni e dell’industria cinematografica e televisiva italiana ed estera, che si siano particolarmente distinte nella promozione di film, documentari e cortometraggi”.

La giuria sarà costituita da personalità del mondo della cultura, dell’arte e della comunicazione cinematografica e televisiva, coordinata da Marco Eugenio Di Giandomenico.

“Ad oggi, giunto alla sua nona edizione – dichiara Stefania Altavilla – il Premio Tonino Accolla ha raccontato attraverso pillole di doppiaggio, i volti di quelle voci che oggi recuperiamo alla memoria attraverso straordinarie interpretazioni di personaggi ai quali quelle voci hanno infuso quell’anima da oscar”.

Quest’anno, grazie anche alla collaborazione con il Centro Studi di Economia Internazionale ai Fondi Europei – presidente Santi Tomaselli, già presidente dell’Osservatorio Romano ai Fondi Europei - è stata definita la partnership con una delle 15 scuole di Cinema più importanti al mondo, la Toronto Film School, già partner degli Studios di Hollywood; e ancora la West University, GIS International e Betting on Italy. Partner tecnici, Red Tomato e Voci FM.

Questa nuova articolazione del progetto - che ha suggerito in una più ampia visione la denominazione di Euro Med Festival Tonino Accolla – ha trovato il pieno riconoscimento di alta valenza strategica dal Distretto Turistico del Sud-Est.

La vocazione internazionale di questa nuova edizione sarà confermata anche dall’intervento - durante il convegno del primo luglio a Noto, workshop sull’importanza dell’intelligenza artificiale per abbattere le barriere della disabilità sensoriale - del senatore Tony Loffreda, vice presidente del Gruppo Interparlamentare Canada/Italia e presidente Rete Parlamentare Canadese nella Banca Mondiale e del Fondo Monetario Internazionale.

La realizzazione dei Premi è affidata, per il Premio Tonino Accolla, al Maestro Scultore Pietro Marchese, all’ architetta designer Lara Grana per i premi allievi, e all’orafa designer Stefania Midolo, per la realizzazione dei premi d’eccellenza.

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Ufficio Stampa. Marilena Toscano. N.Tess Odg 150949.

Tel. 338 3031853 - indirizzo email [email protected]

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