#did i compare different photos to make this conclusion that nobody ask for yes yes i did

[savebylou]

Seems like Louis got a new pair of sunglasses. I wonder if that rumour that the fan return the other sunglasses was true. [Sziget Festival 10.08.24 Vs Cabaret Vert Festival 18.08.24]

[drethanramslay]

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :)) 

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld​

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[thatvixenchick]

AUgust Day 21 - Professional Rivals

Spideypool from Marvel requested by VoidBean

Wade did his best to get a picture of Spidey’s ass without getting caught, but regardless of how nice the zoom was on his fancy camera, spidey sense foiled his plans. He wasn’t going down without a fight, though! That Peter Parker guy took pictures of Spider-man all the time. What was the difference? OTHER than Wade not selling the pictures to a newspaper that hated Spider-man.

Well, according to Spidey, Parker wasn’t going to be taking the photos home for the spank bank. Deadpool argued that those beautiful ass shots in the paper were TOTALLY spanky material, which Spidey didn’t appreciate. After a drawn out argument where Spidey was clearly in denial about Parker’s masturbation habits, it was decided that Parker was making a living, and Deadpool wasn’t. So no pictures for Wade.

As if that single conversation was going to stop Wade!

It wasn’t long before Peter’s job was threatened by a new photographer named Wade Wilson, who was selling amazing Spider-man photos to a rival newspaper. Jameson was in an uproar and demanded better pictures from Peter. As if the pictures could possibly get any better! And how was Wade getting these action shots? Was he seriously pausing to snap pictures in the middle of fighting the bad guys?

Actually, knowing Wade, that was exactly what he was doing. It wasn’t like he cared if he was shot in the meantime. Great, just great.

So Peter did his best to get better shots and a rather serious competition of best photo from the latest villain fight began. Even a few online news sources were talking about the Parker vs Wilson Spider-off. The problem was, the more Peter pushed for better pictures, the more obvious it became that his secret identity should have been within sight of Deadpool and wasn’t.

Wade, predictably, complained that Spidey wasn’t allowed to cheat by taking pictures FOR Parker. So, to prove his point, Wade began searching for Peter during battles, leaving more work for Spidey. Not only did he have to defeat the bad guys alone, he had to keep on eye on where Wade was searching and only use shots from places Wade didn’t successfully canvas.

Outside of pulling a Mrs. Doubtfire routine in the middle of fighting, Peter wasn’t sure how to fix this. So he turned to his good friend Johnny Storm. Or rather, his terrible friend Johnny Storm who mocked him for the circumstances, complained loudly about using an image inducer for dumb reasons, and was ultimately bribed into helping out. So, Johnny filched an image inducer from SHIELD and proceeded to borrow Peter’s camera and stake out the next fight.

The problem was, Johnny wasn’t used to being circumspect, and the group trying to rob a bank took him hostage. Peter had to watch “himself” get dragged away by panicked robbers while sarcastically crying out, “Ohhh noooo, I’m being kidnaaaapped. Whatever shall I dooo? I hope some hero saaaaves me.” Spidey couldn’t stop himself from facepalming.

Spidey and Deadpool managed to “save” poor “Parker” and while Spidey was handing over criminals to the cops, Deadpool was arguing photography techniques with Johnny. Of course, Johnny knew nothing about such things, and Spidey was honestly taken aback by how much Deadpool DID know. He jumped in as soon as he could to cut the conversation off.

Then, because life could never be easy for Peter, Deadpool asked “Parker” out for coffee to finish their discussion. Johnny, being the vindictive little shit he was and mad about being held hostage, agreed and called it a date. Peter was gonna strangle Johnny later.

So it was that Peter had to meet Wade as a civilian in a coffee shop. Stupid Parker luck. At least it wasn’t a terrible time. Wade really HAD done his research into photography, which felt like a bit much considering he just wanted to make personal, exclusive posters of Spider-man to hang on his walls. Oh well, at least Wade paid for the food, claiming Peter to be too poor, which wasn't wrong, but damn, don’t say it that loud in the middle of the shop.

This became a consistent thing between them as they met for coffee and discussed the battle, how they managed their shots, and any new cameras on the market they had their eyes on. It was strangely…nice. Peter wasn’t sure if he should let himself enjoy this so much, but he was. He didn’t really have other photographer friends. Hell, he didn’t have many friends at all.

Things progressed like this for months, with Wade completely unperturbed by Peter rushing out the door to “catch the latest news” whenever Spider-man was needed. Wade did, however, try to keep Peter away from a particularly bad battle once. He handcuffed Peter to the handicap stall’s handrail and went to “join Spidey in battle.” Peter had been forced to break the cuff, hurry to the fight, then race back to the shop and claim a custodian had to cut him out.

Not long after the incident, Wade stopped selling pictures. Peter tried to ask why, but Wade barely responded. Thinking it was a depressive episode, Spidey did his best to drag Deadpool around the city to cheer him up. But Deadpool didn’t act like he was having issues…

Wade stopped meeting up with Peter, and it was only then that Peter realized how much he missed it. Hell, it was only then that Peter realized they’d long ago stopped with the coffee and professional talk and shifted to what anyone else would call normal dates. Johnny certainly had called them such and pointed it out, relentlessly, every time they met up. Thus, Peter didn’t want to go to Johnny in regards to his hurt and lonely feelings.

So, in some twisted bit of fate, he blurted the whole thing to Deadpool one night while sitting up on a rooftop feeling down. Deadpool had asked if his little spider was okay, and Spidey had said, “I think I was broken up with.” After a long pause, Deadpool asked, “You’re not sure?”

So Peter did his best to be vague. How he’d been seeing this guy, and how well things were working, and how they hadn’t put a name on it, really, but Peter hadn’t realized he had grown such feelings prior to being ghosted. He said all his exes hated how he bailed for Spider-man stuff that he couldn’t tell them about, but this guy hadn’t minded. Had he lied?

And Deadpool asked the big question — why was Peter afraid of revealing himself? Was it because he was afraid they’d tell his secret or have some mindreader pull it from them? Or perhaps that they would be killed or kidnapped or hurt?

Yes, yes it was all of those things and more. Deep, deep down, Spider-man was afraid of people comparing his normal, boring self with the hero he was in costume.

Then, Wade mused, “You know, having enjoyed an image inducer once, I learned to look out for the tells that someone was using one.”

Spidey stiffened and stopped breathing. Wade continued, explaining how he wasn’t sure why at first, perhaps because Spidey assumed Deadpool would do something bad to Parker in person. Then later, Wade tested a few things about his sneaking suspicions. He had to walk away, though, not wanting to use the evidence he was compiling to come to a conclusion that Spidey might not want.

But if they were being honest, right here and now on this rooftop, Wade would always honor Spidey’s secrets. Telepaths couldn’t use their powers against him. Deadpool couldn’t die, he healed when hurt, and nobody was able to contain him for long. And, most of all, he didn’t think Peter Parker was boring in the slightest. In fact, he was equally as awesome as Spider-man himself.

And Peter shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t but…

Taking off his mask, Peter asked why Wade ghosted him. Wade denied doing any such thing because he was still right here with his favorite person in the whole world. Peter decided he didn’t care how much Johnny would tease him for this in the future and leaned over to kiss Wade. It felt like something long, long overdue. He said as much, and Wade, being Wade, proceeded to “make up for lost time.” They didn’t get much patrolling done that night.

[lideria]

Chaos. | Johnny

➥ request: can I ask for a fluff fic wherein popular johnny and introvert y/n shares a love for photography and bonds over it

➥ pairing: johnny x gender-neutral reader

➥ genre: fluff literally only fluff, college!au bc i miss it

➥ warnings: none other than a few swear words i think? as always, there might be errors because english is my second language!

➥ word count: 3.3k 

➥ summary: it’s awkward all around, but somehow you get a friend and a model out of an encounter.

➥ author’s note: this is so late and so bad, i’m sorry. i literally struggled with this so unnecessarily much and i don’t even know why exactly, because this is such an interesting concept. please excuse my bad writing in this and my lack of knowledge in photography, i have done some research but i know it probably isn’t enough. i hope the anon is still around and sees it! have a great time lovelies, and i hope you enjoy this little.. chaos heheh 💕 (i hate it here i do)

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

The room was scorching hot, and you were just trying to leave.

The club’s meeting had started around three hours ago for the last meeting before the big competition. One that was international and people had taken their sweet time getting ready for; a few months of preparation to potentially take the photograph that would grant them money, a lot of press, an opportunity to photograph the cover of a photography magazine and overall pride. Members had been taking about possibly restarting commission work and whether the club should do commission work as a society, free of the school, so that they could have a chance at getting better coverage from local blogs and newspapers, and requiring better payment for their work.

Nothing about the competition, really. Everyone was talented, and everyone was confident. They did not make a big deal out of it. Sure, they had been preparing for months on end as well and they had taken countless potential shots that would end up in the competition— but at this point they had long selected the one.

So when Johnny, the club president (who everyone on this campus that is home to thousands of students knows and has conversed with one way or another) stops you instead of them, the ones who could actually use words of encouragement and what not, it feels kind of weird. You stop before you can go out anyway, instead of pretending not to hear him. “Uh, sure. What about?”

Johnny makes eye contact with you when you turn around, and smiles apologetically before lifting a finger up signaling one second, and moves to close the door. He starts talking before he can come back to his place in front of you, where he had ben leaning against a desk. “I was looking over the last submissions for the competition and I couldn’t see your name,” And he is back, leaning against the desk again with his hands on either side, and a straight face. “You really won’t participate?”

Oh, so he had noticed. You thought nobody would, because you thought it probably would not matter if anyone decided not to take part in it. It would be a weird move to do so, yes, but considering free will and everything it was not undoable. “Ah, it’s just,” You shrug. “I don’t have a camera right now? It outlived its lifetime, and a couple months ago it thought it would be the right time to say farewell.”

He looks at you, crosses his arms on his chest, and furrows his eyebrows a little before lifting one up. “You could’ve just asked someone for a camera.”

“Yeah, except I couldn’t.” You chuckle, which prompts Johnny to look at you more questioningly than anything. So you explain yourself. “I didn’t want to be an inconvenience to anyone— plus, I don’t think most people would want to help a rival.”

“Well that’s just jumping to conclusions.” Despite how his words sound, he smiles. “You could borrow my camera if you’d like.”

“Johnny, there’s like a week before submissions start. I don’t even know if you have the equipments I need, or if the weather’s in my favor.” Upon your words he laughs slightly. “I know for a fact you’ve seen my astrophotography. You were looking at them last semester in the gallery,”

He then nods, just once, reassuringly. “Just look at the forecast. I wouldn’t mind.”

That had been the end point, really.

You went ahead and protested further saying you did not even know if what you wanted to appear on the photos were aligned and visible anytime soon, but Johnny had protested back saying you could just find something else to photograph; just take his camera and do something with it. When you asked him why he only told you that he liked your photography and somewhat and somehow related to it— which was a little mind boggling, considering you were not friends. Only acquaintances, and he could still compliment you and tell you something somewhat vulnerable looking into your eyes just like that and wholeheartedly, coming from his chest.

It got you thinking: maybe that was why everyone seemed to like him. He just meant things he said, and he did not really hold himself back from saying things.

He lets you use his computer to check the alignments and the forecast and the cloud formations for the upcoming days and surely enough, the day after the next the sky would be something you could work with. Not ideal, but better than nothing. “Where do you want to shoot the thing?” He asks over your shoulder, perhaps a bit too into your personal space than you are used to with an acquaintance, but it does not feel weird somehow. Probably because you know that he is not a creep that is peeping over your shoulder.

“You know the little beach at the lake?” He nods. “There.”

“Okay.” You close shut his laptop, and get ready to hand it to him, but he stops you midway. “Where do we meet?”

Wait. “We meet?”

That makes him chuckle. “Unless you want to shoot the sky in the dark all by yourself.”

In all honesty, that is what you usually do. Is it fun to do? Definitely not, because the quiet of the dark can get incredibly boring especially when you are not really seeing what you are shooting. The Milky Way was so hard to spot— it would take at least half an hour of your eyes adjusting to the dark before you could see any of it, and even then it would just be a mess of dark purple, blotchy gas with stars sprinkling over. Without any exposure and brightness it was not the most exciting thing, although it still held its magic to it.

The planets were, yes, definitely more visible than the Milky Way could ever be but again: they basically just bigger stars without proper effects. And considering the shoot usually went as setting the camera up somewhere, turning on all the necessary settings and toying with them until the view looked right enough, and leaving it for hours on end by itself and only getting up and taking stills a few times throughout the said hours; looking at and sitting under the night sky with naked eyes all alone proved to be very boring at times.

“Just give me your phone number.”

What you actually end up settling for is meeting at the lake because you realize you are living much farther from each other, at least compared to what you would have expected. You have to use different buses to be able to meet, and unless there were campers on his bus, he was also one of the only people that would take the bus to the lake at the dead of the night. Dead of the night being literally 2 AM in the morning.

When he arrives you are already there sitting on the sad excuse of what must be sand but is more of a weird mush, looking at your phone, checking the forecast last minute to make sure everything would be as what you expected throughout the night. The beach was fairly small and you were the only one there, except for the couple of abandoned beer bottles that had not been thrown away in the trash most likely out of laziness and lack of respect for the environment.

Johnny sets the camera bag down next to you before he drops down as well, setting his other bag next to him. “Hello there,” He greets you, and you mumble a greeting in return. “Getting here was so hard, why don’t you shoot at the hike trails? There’s a clearer view of the sky.”

“Mm, light pollution’s worse there. I can’t deal with that.” You still mumble and shake your head slightly, biting at your hangnail as you look at your phone. Johnny does not like that, the fact that you will not look at him and that biting a hangnail is often a nervous thing for a lot of people— it nerved him, made him think he is somehow unapproachable even though that is the last thing he would want to seem as. “Let’s set up the camera?” He suggests in hopes that it will get you moving or looking at him.

Which it does, because you lock your phone and look at him. It is a bit hard to see you in the dark, but he does not mind. “Thank you for letting me use your camera, Johnny.”

It is not what he expects. But he takes it as the reason of your seemingly nervous antic. “I forgot to thank you for it before, so.”

A smile plants itself on his face before he can even realize it. “It’s no problem. Now, come on.”

Johnny helps with setting the camera up, letting you fiddle with the lenses and the lights while he deals with the tripod and the height. He lets you walk around with the camera in your hands and waits for you to find a reasonable place where the sky can come out good and the environments can enhance the shot, and it happens to be a few feet away from where you were first sitting. He secures the tripod right then and there, and watches you deal with the settings for a good few minutes before he can catch somewhat of a smile.

Though, he knows that it will take a lot more than just a few minutes to find your ideal settings, and it does. You fiddle with the buttons and the settings, take a few test stills, go back and middle some more, bend your back and stretch since you are leaning down the whole time and it is hurting your hips a little, take a few more stills and… It takes a lot of time before you can actually start your time-lapse. Throughout all of it, he waits for you in silence.

And when you are done, he smiles at you. “All done?”

“Yeah,” The relief is both audible and visible as you breathe out. “There’s Saturn and Jupiter tonight, looks super nice. I just hope I can get good stills out of this.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to.” He clears his throat before continuing with his words. “I brought a few snacks, if you’d like some.”

You look out at the lake a little and frown at how it is wavering a bit, presumably because it would make it harder to take stills later. He hears you huff for a short second. “Sure.”

He does not necessarily like the way your voice sounds when you are supposed to be agreeing to his suggestion, but you walk around the camera and go sit down with him next to his bag anyway. Johnny takes the snacks out only hoping you would like what he has, and takes some napkins out, thinking you would need them if anything melts in your hand and everything gets a bit sticky.

An idea strikes him then, something he had learned from his friends way back in high school when he was in yet another photography club. After handing you the snacks and a napkin, he holds out the pack of napkins again. “Take another one.”

“What for?” He shrugs and pushes his hand further to emphasize. “Just take one.”

You do, and do not think much of it because you turn to your bag and take a thermos out, taking the cap off and filling it with the liquid inside. The grey trail of steam and scent makes its way to his nose; it is coffee.

Johnny just about becomes friends with you when you hold the cap out to him. “Thought we could use this to stay awake.”

“This is a saving grace,” He chuckles, and does not hesitate to take a sip. A dark and heavy brew, the way he loves it. “Thank you. Now, do me a favor and tear one of the napkins up.”

You chuckle a bit as you take your own sip, which results in you choking up a little. “What, why?”

But Johnny does not answer that question of yours. It prompts an awkward silence, both of you sipping your coffees once more. It proves to be unbearable, though, so you end up doing what he asks of you. Even though it sounds extremely weird.

When you are done with tearing the napkin up, there are dozens of unusable pieces in your hand and it feels somewhat dusty. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He looks at your hand for a brief moment, and lets out a laugh that sounds like a puff because of the way it is stuck between his lips. His shoulders shake, although not violently. “Well,” He starts. “You’re supposed to say a truth for every piece you have, it’s kind of a game.”

Your face must have morphed into such a shocked and taken aback mimic that Johnny actually bursts into laughter this time. “I’m not telling you this many truths, the hell?” Because, in all honesty, you do not think you ever told anyone that many truths in a game before. All of the truth-and-dares combined.

Johnny does not care about that a whole lot though, so he just shrugs. “Better start telling me. You can just stop when you get bored with it, I guess.”

With a huff, you start.

At first it is just you admitting doing sets of embarrassing things in your childhood and teenage years, how you wasted two semesters in the debate club dreading absolutely every competition and club meeting since you are more of an introvert, how you are most definitely going to fall a couple of classes but it is okay since you had taken extra credits last academic year, how although loving photography you do not want to do it for a living, how the coolest thing about it would be you starting a blog that thousand of people would follow— just for your astrophotography.

After that point it turns into a mutual conversation about photography. You tell him how astrophotography never fails to be amazing even though the things in the sky never change, and how every time you take a shot it will look just like the others but so much more different which is what pulls you into it when he asks you why you do it in the first place. Johnny also asks you if you should be doing a simple sky shoot for such a competition, and you answer saying you are not really aiming for first place already; you know for a fact that while looking at the submissions, people will stop scrolling the website just to look at your shot and that is what matters. Because they will find it so interesting, even though it will be just like any other night sky shot they have seen before, and it will be so interesting because it will be something far from what they can see with their naked eyes. They will try to memorize everything about that photo before moving onto the others.

And that is what matters to you. The fact that they will pay attention means much more to you than getting first place.

He, although jokingly, calls you a true artist. It somehow feels true to you.

Then, you proceed to compliment Johnny on his astrophotography, because some of his shots are in your all time favorites. There is a way in how he lets the light spill in his shots, how he links the city and the sky together that you respect so much, and you really wonder if it is all camerawork or also a tonne of editing. “It’s mostly camerawork,” He says with a smile on his face. “I can teach you someday if you want me to.”

You take up on his offer, of course, because you can grow with every bit of knowledge— plus he was fun to be around. The conversation just seemed to flow.

The conversation seemed to flow so fluently, in fact, that you almost did not realize that the lake water was about to drag the tripod away and tumble it down if it was not for the waves hitting your shoes after the wind picked up.

Both of you made a run for the set-up, but one of you were not all that lucky to be able to make it.

Johnny slips when he runs and falls backwards on the mushy, weird mix between dirt and sand, sending you into a hysteric laughter as you hold the camera. The laughter doubles you over probably because of your sleepiness (no, the silhouette as he fell in his clumsy moment was too funny to not howl over it), but you make it a point to ask in proper etiquette. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He stands up, laughing just as much himself. “But I’m muddy all over.”

“Just go in the water.” At that he looks at you as if you are crazy, so you argue further. “You can either be wet, or muddy. It’s up to you.”

Johnny runs into the water and properly dips in this time, sending the two of you back into your fits of laughter.

Considering lake mud is the worst type you can get stuck on your clothes, you think he does the right thing. While he cleans up, you take some more stills— not caring too much when he walks into the frame at some point while making his way back to his bag.

Well. You actually take rapid photos of him at some point because you get a potentially great idea, but you would never admit to doing that. He would learn about it if it worked your way anyway.

You wait for him to squeeze his clothes so as much of the excess water is out as possible, and do him a favor and take the set-up down all by yourself, taking the memory card and putting it into your wallet as well. The footage is way shorter than how they usually are for you, but considering it is nearing five o’clock in the morning and Johnny would be freezing if he stayed more, you decide it is whatever. Any still would do the job according to your policy.

What really proves to be hard, though, is finding a taxi for Johnny. There are at least a few of them that pass by before you can convince one to take in your ‘drunk’ friend, telling them the address Johnny had told you for the second time after deciding on this little plan for him to be able to go home. Unlike him, taking the bus back is much easier for you especially after the sky ever so slightly starts lighting up, giving you the prettiest view to watch with your headphones blasting music, craving sleep.

Both of you do not really hear from each other until the next week, with you being too busy editing the still you had chosen trying to get it to be splendid, and him simply too busy with seminars and classes and the last bit of feedback he is giving on people’s submissions. You can only text some nights, but that is about it.

That is, until he calls you less than five minutes after you send him your submission. “Why this?”

You look at the laptop in front of you and the still you have just sent him— the silhouette of Johnny and his hair being flicked, sending droplets of water everywhere; because of his tall stature perfectly on and in between the stars, capturing the purple of the sky and the silver and red and green lights of the stars, and some of them just shine like how water does. Saturn and Jupiter are at the tip of his nose, and somehow his silhouette emphasizes them. Again, somehow in this weird state of him just walking away from the frame and the weird state of his arms and overall body, everything looks merged well together.

Chaos above in the sky, and chaos just down on the ground. “Well it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

[r6s-imagines]

44 with Maverick please?

for sure! i’ve recently purchased maverick and hoo boy his voice is something else.

side note: i wanted this to work so bad, i dug my heels into the mud and powered through every block i faced!! i also got kinda carried away so it’s pretty lengthy

maverick x reader >> is she pretty?

•••

MASTERLIST

requested: yes!!!!

warnings: cursing, a lil sadness

prompts:

#44: “if i could marry anyone, i’d still choose you.”

the prompt list can be found here

•••

summary: with all of the time erik spends on his work, your mind begins to believe that he’s found other partners besides yourself.

•••

erik wasn’t hard to love, despite the doubts of others.

erik’s always been closed off, careful to keep his emotions at bay and substitute the suppression with the examination. it was a miracle you stuck around after the first date, he’d say. it was always your job to speak and his job to analyze every word. you’ve only admitted it once or twice, but you found your thighs tightening just watching his piercing gaze. he trusted nobody as much as you, cutting his hair, choosing his outfits or providing advice to improve suri. you saw his scars, his tears, and his laughs, and you loved every inch of his being. while erik rarely verbally expressed his affection, the thought was never neglected. when there’s time, he’ll climb into the bed late at night and wrap his arms around your waist, sighing into your ear. if you asked, he’d talk for hours about this and that from kabul, how you needed to try this food or learn this phrase in dari.

if erik wasn’t tinkering away with suri at your shared apartment, he was at the operative’s base, fighting for what’s right and ensuring the safety of his teammates. it just so happened that his most recent departure was to last half a year, sans electronics or any form of communication to protect against interference.

no calls, texts. you would have forgotten his face if it weren’t for the photos from the years. your mother would always tell you it was about time to marry that man, but you wanted to wait. if thorn was going to call you his, he’d wait on his own time. your mother would heckle him on the limited days he’d spend with his second parents, “discreetly” bringing up your ring size or inquire about the best man, if he had to choose. he’d merely exhale with a polite smile, picking at the food. you silently agreed with his wordless response. neither of you needed a certificate to prove your bond, while it may have been a sweet gesture if provided at any time.

erik kept his eyes on a photo of you whenever he could. it was always tucked into a pocket for quick access. during a close situation, he’d wring his hands, feeling over the tattoo of your initials on his ring finger through his gloves.

if only he could tell you he did such.

as one month turned to two and two turned to three, you began to pace anxiously, wondering how your lover was from a world away. you went through his office, perusing through the operator files and transcripts of his data, just to read his psychological profile and smile at the accuracy. you went through his rewards and souvenirs of his time in kabul, locating a spare outfit of the one he wore to missions. some days you’d wear his coat in public, and others you’d shrivel up into a fetal position under it and weep into the sleeve. your heart ached more than anything to rekindle the scents of him in your living space. you were empty, half of a person.

could he be... you perished the thought. don’t even think about it, he’s the smartest man you know! he wouldn’t put his life on the line like that! even in your nightmares, you’d watch him on the battlefield, a fallen soldier with his eyes open for the last time. you told yourself you’d love him despite any flaws, but the idea of him learning to reuse a lost limb haunted your deepest conscience. you just hoped that, more than anything, he’d be the same erik thorn that you met on that fateful day.

as you’re going through the files for what feels like the thousandth time, you finally notice a note previously missed.

“synergies: iq’s r.e.d. works exceptionally well with maverick, and it’s a blessing that the two of them are so compatible.“

“i’ve never heard of an iq,” you said, scrunching your nose. your eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page.

“additional operator’s notes:

‘he’s unlike anything i’ve seen. it’s no mystery he carries himself well; he deserves the spotlight for his extraordinary performance.’

—monika ‘iq’ weiss”

monika? you’ve never heard of her. your heart plummeted, assuming the worst. if you’ve never heard the name from his lips, and they seem to be so close, there was really only one conclusion: he was hiding her from you. but erik wouldn’t do that, right?

...right?

the next few days left you torn. the only person that seemed to want you was your bed, and you could no longer even look into his area of the room without feeling like you were intruding on this mystery woman’s side.

three months turned to four and four turned to five and a half. the idea of counting the days left on your fingers was thrilling, and you couldn’t wait to be back in his arms. the arms that another girl’s been in, your conscience spat at you. you shake your head, hard enough to remove any bad thoughts. it clawing never ceased, though, and you wanted to just cry from seeing his face. you never wanted to bring it up in fear of ruining what the two of you have been building for several years. if you pretended enough, it wouldn’t become a problem.

the day finally came.

you weren’t necessarily a trophy wife, but you prided in being able to make a full, home-cooked meal. just as you’re garnishing a pasta dish, you heard keys jingle into the lock. your knees nearly gave in but you pushed on, wiping your hands on your jeans and turning towards the entrance with a sincere smile.

his back faced you first, locking the door behind him. your heart jumped at the surreal experience, watching his tired movements complete actions he’d done for years prior. he slowly spun, eyes meeting you own. his glance was empty, more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. his hair had grown out to his shoulders and his beard was begging for a razor. had you not known that his hair was past due before he left, you’d say he looked just like the time back in kabul, disheveled. you took slow strides, taking in every detail of his face before wrapping your arms around his middle. he placed his around your neck and held you close, breathing heavily to stop any tears. it was quiet, no words needed to be exchanged.

“i missed you,” he said lowly, voice cracking slightly. you smiled, blinking a tear from your lashes.

“i missed you too.”

it took a full minute to separate and you took off his jacket, leading him with a hand to the dining room.

“i can’t remember the last time i ate food that wasn’t packaged,” he observed, grabbing a fork and looking up. “you’re off.”

“off? how do you mean?” you swallowed. erik’s profile literally states how well he is at reading people. no amount of acting could stop his analytical gaze from staring straight into your soul. “i’m alright.”

“i’ve known you for nine years, i know when you’re lying to me.” you sighed, downing your wine.

“monika?” you mumbled to see if he would pick it up.

“what about her?” so he acknowledges it.

“who’s that?”

“coworker,” he elaborated. “why’d you ask?”

“you like her at all?”

his brows furrowed and he leaned back, tilting his head.

“yes, i’d say so. she gets the job done and she knows what she’s doing.”

“and?”

“that’s the end of it,” he took a bite.

“is she pretty?”

“what is this about?” erik placed his hands on the table, not loud enough to be called a slam, but it got the message across. you shrunk in your seat, feeling embarrassed just bringing it up. “did you go through my copy of my profile?” you nodded slowly. he stood up straighter than before.

“y/n. we’re coworkers,” he emphasized, face still. “did you really think that—“

“i dont know what i thought! i’ve never heard you talk about her and it’s been a long time—“

“six months is nothing compared to the years i’ve spent with you,” erik arose. “she happens to have a gadget that works well with my own. we need to communicate to get anything done.” you placed your head in your hands, flushed. just when you thought he was done, he continued to speak.

“i love you too much to even think of it. every minute i spent on mission, i had you in my head. i came real close to the end at one point. do you know what i said? ‘what is y/n going to say?’ i wouldn’t leave you, ever. you’re the reason i’m still standing, so if you think you’re worth any less than you are, then for the first time in ages, you’re wrong. never underestimate yourself,” as he spoke, he moved closer, embracing you once more. his scruffy chin rested on top of your head, jaw bouncing as he murmured every word. “i’d live for you, because i couldn’t stand to part from your side. i swear, those six months felt like hell and seeing you here isn’t real. i really didn’t think i had separation anxiety since that first date. you closed that door behind you and i felt so alone, i never knew how isolated i was from happiness.”

he parted, reaching to his hung jacket and fishing into the pocket. his large hand concealed the item, but you already began to cry at the thought.

“and i want this to remind you,” he got onto one knee, fumbling with the box before opening it. “if i could marry anyone, i’d still choose you.”

he didn’t even have to pop the question, you were already nodding and wiping your cheeks from the spilling emotions. he took the ring from the box, placing it on your finger.

“i planned for a different scenario,” erik admitted. “but any moment is perfect with you.”

“that’s so cheesy,” you said, smiling goofily. “i would’ve said yes any day.” you leaned into a kiss, sharing a moment of happiness for half a minute or so. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” erik replied. “please don’t forget that.”

[steelframers]

Masturbate and Feel Good

Masturbate and Feel Good

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But the idea will be nice step to take. A great useless shame that should, and can be eliminated from your mind. Recall, an ocean is built of modest droplets involving water. Do away with a decline at a time since due time, the water would be empty! Of course it would take a number of millennia! Luckily, you may have an ocean rich in guily! Just some naggings here and there! The first step towards eradication in this guiltiness is knowledge. There are actually tons of myths around fleshlight. Most of them perpetrated by religion, unfortunately. Yet some perpetrated by scam runners. Lets check out the particular most important ones. one particular. Fleshlight is against the will regarding god. Hoke. At 1 point typically the church viewed as anyone who also was overtly passionate to be able to his wife a good adultrater. Follow that coaching and also your wife would possibly be committing adultery! 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[rebeccahpedersen]

When Will People Learn?

TorontoRealtyBlog

What’s the definition of insanity?

Isn’t it something like, “Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result?”

I’ve come the conclusion that pre-construction condo buyers are insane.

Or, perhaps it’s me that’s insane.

Over the last decade, or even just looking at the past 2-3 years, I have written this same blog post over, and over, and over, and the subject matter never changes.

A pre-construction condo project is cancelled.

One or two buyers decides they’re not going to take it laying down, and they put their names and faces to articles in the newspaper, and it makes for an enthusiastic read.

And then another condo project is cancelled, and more people are upset, even though perhaps many of them could have, would have, should have known this was a possibility, given how it gets written about every time a project is cancelled, and they pose for a photo, and give a quote to the newspaper.

And this goes on, and on, and on, with no signs of people ever learning.

So I’ve decided that there are three ways in which we can stop this from happening ever again, except only two of these ways are viable:

People start taking responsibility for their actions.

Nobody ever buys a pre-construction condo again.

The good ‘ole government swoops in and saves the day.

Is it obvious which one simply isn’t ever going to happen?

Every time a condo project is cancelled, and people cry foul, and I write about it on my blog – and call them out, I get hate mail.

But I call it love mail.  Because I love reading it, and find it so entertaining.

Just think about it for a moment – if you could have your very own clown show, somehow make its way to your office, and act out a routine in front of you, you could basically just sit back, relax, and take in the show, right?

That’s how I feel when I get emails from people who think that I’m somehow to blame for their misfortunes, which have little to do with “fortune” and more to do with decisions.

I have never sold a pre-construction condo to a buyer.  Never.

There are many reasons for this, and the long-time readers could probably list them off just as well as I could.  But among the bevy of reasons is that the condo developer can cancel the project at virtually any time, for any reason.  And it seems as though it’s happening with increasing frequency.

People tell themselves, “It’ll never happen to me.”

They’ll say aloud, “The odds are slim.”

True.  But that’s like with anything in life.

You know the saying, “You could walk outside and get hit by a truck tomorrow,” and I personally take it as a metaphor for just about anything in life, good or bad.  And when it comes to the bad, we seem to always think it won’t happen to us.

“If you play with fire, you might get burned.”

No kidding.

So if you, were like me when was 11-years-old and like many kids my age, obsessed with fire, would you complain when you lit a firecracker and it went off in your hand?

That actually really hurt.  I was on the roof of my garage with my friend Will, and we were taking out the tiny, individual explosives from a pack that you were supposed to light as a whole.  We were lighting them one at a time, and throwing them into the air.  I had lit so many, that it became automatic, and for some reason I decided to shake the fire on the end of the match out, and then – POP – the firework went off in my left hand.

I remember the look on Will’s face.  Just pure shock, and that element of “What’s going to happen now?”

I felt nothing at first, and then the pain came down with exponential force, and it was probably the most excruciating thing I had ever felt up to that point in my life.

The worst part was – I had to climb down from the garage with one hand!

I ran inside, and my Mom put Ozonol on my hand.  I don’t even know if that’s the prescription for a firework going off in one’s hand, but that’s what I got.  That, and ice.

My dad came home an hour later, and I was laying on the couch crying.  My mom explained to him what had happened, and he came over and asked how I was doing.  I thought he was going to take pity on me, maybe give me a hug, or tell me it was going to be okay, but he didn’t.

Instead, he asked, “Before you started lighting fireworks with your bare hands, did you think that this was a possible outcome?”

I was defiant; I told him, “No, no, you don’t understand.”

I went on to explain, “Me and Will lit, like, a hundred!  It was fine!”

My Dad asked me again, “But did you think this was a possible outcome?”

I was mad.  I thought he’d show me some love.  Although as I’ve come to realize, he did, just in a very different way.

The irony is – I never thought that a firework going off in my hand was a possible outcome.  It just didn’t enter into my head, or my thought process.  I wasn’t really being careful at all, or thinking about the downside.  Yes, I was 11-years-old, and that’s what kids do, er, did, back then.  I think every kid is bubble-wrapped in 2018.  I’ll find out soon enough.

I was playing with fire, and I got burned.  Not literally, but exactly as it would go, in a metaphorical sense.

Tell me that you don’t want to hear me spin this story, and this metaphor, into reasons why the sad-sap buyers of Icona Condos should take responsibility for their actions, but I’m going to anyways.

I’m just sick and tired of everybody in life, in every which way, blaming others for their own failed outcomes, based on decisions that they, themselves made.  And then comes the automatic ask – that the government should help them out.

Don’t get me wrong, I think what developers do is awful, and it shouldn’t happen.  I’d be all for a complete re-write of the Condominium Act, which is something I’ve asked for countless times over the last decade.

But two wrong’s don’t make a right.  That’s something else I learned when I was a child.

No, it’s not “right” that a developer can cancel a condo project at will, and that buyers get “screwed.”

But it’s legal.  And it happens.

So when it does, I wish I could say I was surprised at all the outrage, from people that knew this was a possibility, but don’t want to admit it.

I was 11-years-old when that firecracker went off in my hand, so cut me some slack.

But here we have “grown-ass adults” walking into condo sales centres with a lit pack of matches, ready to blow shit up.

“Condo Buyers Call For Better Protections As Second Major Vaughan Condo Project Killed”

There’s the article for those that want to read it.

But you already get the gist, in three points or less:

A condo project was cancelled.

Buyers that knew this could happen, are upset.

Buyers want the government to fix it.  Preferably with the use of Emmett “Doc” Brown’s time machine…

What’s interesting about this condo cancellation, and as the headline above explains, Iconica Condos is the second major project in Vaughan to be cancelled, or “killed,” if you’re looking for emphasis, in the past few months.

And what’s going on with the first one?

Oh boy, you’ll love this…

“Vaughan Condo Buyers Take Developer To Court Over Cancelled Condo Project”

Yes, that’s right.  They’re suing!

Hey, look, good on them.

What the developer did was “wrong,” even if it was actually right.  And if they want their day in court, more power to them.

But I’m pretty sure even they, deep down, know this is a waste of time.

I would also bet my cute little dog that the law firm acting for the buyers is not working on a contingency.

What did Ben Affleck say in Good Will Hunting?

  Great movie.  Reminds me I need to watch that again..

Word to the wise: if you’re looking at litigating, and your lawyer suggests a contingency – he thinks the case has merit.  If he suggests a retainer, then that should tell you something.

An important excerpt from that second article:

Cosmos buyers signed “take-it-or-leave-it” contracts that gave the vendor, one of the numbered companies, “sole, absolute and unfettered discretion,” to cancel the project if it found the financing terms unacceptable, said Charney.

He compared it to someone making an offer on a house conditional on mortgage financing. “Then if (the buyer) want(s) to drop the deal all they have to do is say, ‘I didn’t like the mortgage rates or I couldn’t get the mortgage I wanted, see you later,’” he said.

But wait a minute, didn’t we just have this conversation last week?

This lawyer is suggesting that the second example there is unfair?

Because that’s exactly how our real estate market works!

I can’t believe he chose that as the example to try to highlight how “unfair” the condo developers are being.  It makes zero sense to me.

Every condition included in an Agreement of Purchase & Sale, or let me rephrase – every condition that should be included by a capable buyer agent with experience, should have the words, “…at the Buyer’s sole and absolute discretion.”  It simply can’t work any other way.

Otherwise, you get into a back-and-forth about what constitutes grounds to not provide a waiver of the condition.

But now I’m straying too far off topic, even though this is an important point, as there was some confusion by readers with respect to the content of Wednesday’s blog, but I digress.

I say again: I don’t like the legalese that’s contained in the pre-construction condo agreements.

But I don’t pretend it doesn’t exist, like many buyers.  And if the condo was cancelled, as it specifically states that it could be, in the agreement, I wouldn’t cry foul.  I’m not 11-years-old anymore.

So tell me something – are these buyers insane, or am I?

Because this is going to continue to happen, and my guess is that it won’t be more than another 6 months before we read another headline like the ones above.  And I won’t stop being brutally honest with my thoughts either.

Remember this blog post last November?

“Another Pre-Construction Condo, Cancelled. Who Is To Blame?”

You wouldn’t believe the heat I took over this.

I only wish I found a way to be even more heartless, condescending, and cruel this time around.

Well folks, we have a municipal election coming up!  A slightly smaller one than originally planned (too soon to joke about that?), but an election nonetheless.  Who wants to bet that a prospective city councilor or two might jump on this hot-button topic and promise to “look into it?”

The post When Will People Learn? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

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[cstesttaken]

HTC U11 review: Surprisingly good

Intro

“What were you thinking, HTC?!” was the first thought that ran through my head when I saw the Taiwanese company announce the U Ultra and U Play smartphones. HTC, the manufacturer that set the gold standard for the metal bodied smartphone, was ditching the one thing they did better than anyone else.

I thought they had lost their minds. I was certainly disappointed to find out that HTC would also be sticking with the glass design for their 2017 flagship, especially since they made such a comeback with last year’s almost perfect 10.

So, clearly, I was going into this review with a little more disdain than usual. By the end of this review, I was confident that all I would get was confirmation that HTC had completely lost the plot. HTC wasn’t going to win me over, not after they killed what I loved so much about their flagships.

But here’s the thing, after spending some time with the HTC U11, it did win me over even if it was only a little bit. It impressed me just enough that I might recommend this to people looking for a flagship Android device.

The Good

+ Build quality is solid + Camera is awesome + Speakers are great

The Bad

– Screen and design feel dated – Looks garish – Average battery life

Android, Mobile Devices, Mobile OS, Product review, Samsung, , , , , , , , , , , ,

smart455

Does HTC pay reviewers worlwide or is it really good device?

soyacincau

In case you’re wondering, we would never do paid reviews on this site.

Crasher7

Usually HTC phones during April May releases quite good. Just that their subsequent release in the year are questionable

jojopanmee

Not bad from HTC this year, but i will go for the s8 as the price are not much different and it's 8mm wider than the 6.4inch s8. Alternately go for the mi6 if wan 2 save 1k to buy a flagship phone.

rats

I read a few of this site’s reviews (I am from Philippines). it seems to be not consistent.

a pros in one phone can be a cons in another.

and the phone review is neither technically In-depth enough or from a user experience is also lacking. the author didn’t do a picture to picture comparison and draw conclusion for picture qualities? that’s an opinion that nobody cares, unless the author is some famous photographer.

is this site sponsored by phone companies?

soyacincau

We would never do paid reviews on this site as it is unethical. If there is sponsored content, it would be declared upfront so that our readers will be well informed. We will doing another round of camera comparison, so do stay tuned for that.

mahalsangat

that wasn’t his/her question.

his/her question was, “is this site sponsored by phone companies”. he/she didn’t ask whether this review is a paid review. If you still don’t get it, meaning, is a large portion of your income contributed by phone companies? either from advertisement or other reasons. Even if they don’t pay you directly for a favourable review, how do you stay “independant” if they indirectly pay your salary?

And I agree that In the world of tech, performance and (camera) qualities are all relatives. what’s cutting edge today may no longer be so tomorrow. the only way to anchor what you deem is good now, is to have it compared with its rivals. And by doing so, helping us to choose a device in the market.

We don’t want school boy opinions. we want both sides of the story backup by sound facts. and based on our individual needs, we will decide for ourselves what’s good for us.

soyacincau

We do get advertisements from various industries such telcos, e-commerce, apps, entertainment, IT products, and of course, smartphone brands. Having diverse advertisers allow us to maintain editorial independence and we have a clear separation when it comes to commercial content. We are free to report/review as it is and we have always pointed out the positive and negative without any influence from brands regardless if they are our current advertiser. If brands wish to have their own say, it would be clearly marked as sponsored and we would never comply any request to mask "sponsored" content.

Our reviews are always based on our actual experiences with the device. Our writers are free to write both pro and cons but they must be backed up by facts. If there's anything wrong, please point it out and we would gladly make any amends if any.

walauweh

on thw picturea side,the author praises the camera with diaclaimer that he didnt do back to back comparison yet to make full conclusion,but based on the photos,u can see it clearly one of the best.

even zooming in the photos u can see the details is pretty much preserve. same as the cloud,u can see a well exposed photos.

well,if u care to read untill the end,the author also mentioned that he will hold the ultimate judgement on the camera when he do comparo next time.

for technical details,i think anandtech,tombshardware,notebook check will do it.

but most of reviews i read on most sites didnt do technical details except that i mentioned above.

but its a good recommendation if soya cincau can do technical details review such as sites i mentioned above.

Dave

If you’re looking for in-depth technical reviews and be geeky or techie enough to cc are about the differences in benchmarks and whatever scores, you’ve come to the wrong place. I prefer overviews and layman reviews because in the end, I use a phone like a layman, so too much technical details is just a waste of reading time to me.

S8+ Kaki

you are right, basically most reader (if not all) dislike this writer from this tech blog. This tech blog was my number one tech blog pick, but not anymore.

YKK

Invitation to launch events and gaining early access to review units are good enough for most bloggers and reviewers. And of coz, there’s nothing wrong with that too.

lalala

this is actually a fair and good review.

DC

Do camera comparison with Google Pixel.

kyo90

If compare with HTC U Ultra camare? Is that about the same ?

yusry

ultra are using ultrapixel 2.0, compared to htc u11 are using ultrapixel 3.0.

YES

Have you tested the 3D audio?

we581

The mobile phones of this site is doing very well oh, inside a lot of digital products, but is the Chinese sellers, don't know how quality, want to ask everybody to help have a look. thank you

Source

http://www.soyacincau.com/2017/06/02/htc-u11-review-malaysia-surprisingly-good/

[insiderlinuxtk-blog]

Google's first phone makes Siri look trivial

Android has dependably been a wreck.

Its most noteworthy quality — the openness and capacity for any telephone creator to uninhibitedly receive and adjust the product — is additionally its most noteworthy shortcoming. It has brought on fracture, spotty or missed updates, and significant security concerns. After such a long time, the organizations that make Android telephones have hinted at no tidying things up.

So Google chose to settle the catastrophe it made.

The Pixel, the primary cell phone outlined by Google starting from the earliest stage, is the counteractant to the vast majority of Android's issues. The telephone, which begins at $649 and goes at a bargain this week, highlights Google's aspiration to reclaim control of Android lastly demonstrate it can be a streamlined and simple to-utilize stage.

Furthermore, it worked.

The Pixel is a magnificent telephone, and it's what Android ought to have been from the earliest starting point. Google has at last made sense of that it's not quite recently enough to make extraordinary programming. You likewise need to combine it with brilliant equipment. Yes, that ought to be self-evident. Furthermore, yes, that has been Apple's logic for a considerable length of time. In any case, it's reality.

Google additionally has a noteworthy preferred standpoint over Apple. It has dependably been exceptional at programming and administrations, and nothing demonstrates that more than Google Assistant, the new computerized partner that lives inside the Pixel and future Google-made items like the Google Home speaker.

The Pixel telephone is an essence of a future in which equipment matters less and the counterfeit consciousness that forces it outweighs everything else. Furthermore, nobody is better situated to exploit that future right now than Google.

'Alright Google, when's my next flight?'

The new Google Assistant capacities a considerable measure like Siri. Tap and hold the home catch, and the Assistant flies up to ask what you require.

Google Assistant pulls data from all that you do in Google's administrations, from Search to Gmail to Calendar to Photos. The more Google administrations you utilize, the better Assistant progresses toward becoming at helping you.

My most loved case in the course of recent days: I asked Assistant when my next flight was and it gave me the appropriate response, finish with the Delta flight number and booked departure time. I never enlightened Google concerning my flight. It just knew in light of the affirmation email Delta sent me when I booked.

That is only one small illustration, yet it's a vital one. Right hand is sufficiently keen to comprehend setting over an assortment of administrations to get you that one thing you need. It's stunning and supernatural when it works, and it's quite recently the initial phase in Google's aspiration to make a customized Google for everybody. It's not there yet, but rather subsequent to going through a couple days with Assistant and the Pixel, I can advise Google is better prepared to make AI work for clients than whatever other organization.

Aide's abilities are so expansive and differed that it's difficult to show them all here. I haven't verged on opening everything Assistant can do, yet I was routinely astounded at whatever point I concocted something new to inquire.

Pull up the photographs I took from my most recent excursion to San Francisco. Done. Give me the speediest course home. Done. Remind me to visit with my manager when I get the chance to work tomorrow. Done. Play that Calvin Harris and Rihanna melody. Done.

At that point there's the capacity to take advantage of Google's endless learning of the web and convey answers to the inquiries you inquire. What time is the following presidential open deliberation? Did the Jets win? Are there any great ramen eateries close me, and would I be able to get a reservation?

I could continue forever, however you likely get the thought. Google has several billions of answers signed into its framework, and it can pull considerably more from trusted sources like Wikipedia if it's puzzled. It's quite often ready to get you what you're searching for, however I experienced some uncommon cases in which it would pull up a standard rundown of Google query items.

What's more, when you couple Assistant with Google Now, Google's proactive aide that conveys data and alarms in view of what Google thinks about you, the Pixel transforms into something other than a telephone that reacts to your swipes and taps. The Pixel is continually working for you, conveying what you need before you even know you need it.

Apple ought to be humiliated that Siri, which had a five-year head begin on Google Assistant, is no place close as fit.

Still, there were a few defects with Assistant. It could send messages and instant messages however couldn't read ones sent to me (a component that ought to come soon). It likewise couldn't disclose to me when my next Amazon request was relied upon to arrive, despite the fact that that data showed up in Google Now. Those things can without much of a stretch be settled after some time, and Assistant will keep on getting more brilliant and learn new abilities the more individuals utilize it.

There are likewise some undeniable security concerns. Right hand is so great since it knows such a great amount about you. So you have to a released a bit of yourself and have an abnormal state of trust that Google won't abuse or mishandle all that individual data that makes Assistant work so well. It will probably frighten away a few people, and I don't reprimand them for it. However, for me, it's a reasonable cost to pay for an apparatus that makes my life so substantially less demanding.

Android culminated

The other advantage to the Pixel is Android. This isn't the changed Android you've encountered on telephones from Samsung or LG. It's "immaculate" Android, conveyed the way Google planned it. What's more, it's outrageously great.

This most recent adaptation is called Nougat, and it brandishes a perfect plan and all the standard elements you'd anticipate from a top of the line telephone.

Be that as it may, the genuine reward is that Pixel will be the main telephone that gets new forms of Android when they are accessible. That is practically inconceivable for Android gadgets. Indeed, even the Nexus telephones Google has helped different makers create throughout the years have attempted to convey auspicious updates.

The Pixel accompanies the guarantee that you are purchasing a telephone that will keep on improving after some time. It's one of the greatest things keeping clients bolted into the iPhone, and it's invigorating to see that at last come to Android. Finally, Android at long last feels comparable to iOS. The following incredible test will be to extend that logic to whatever is left of the Android biological community, however I'm not extremely hopeful that can happen. Starting now and into the foreseeable future, in the event that you need the best of Android, your most logical option will be to purchase a telephone straight from Google.

Simply one more telephone

The equipment is effortlessly the slightest energizing part about the Pixel. Everything here is entirely standard. It comes in two sizes, one with a 5-inch screen and a "XL" display with a 5.5-inch screen. There's a unique finger impression sensor, a super-sharp screen, quick charging (in the event that you utilize the included divider plug), and a standard earphone jack.

That doesn't make the equipment awful. It just demonstrates that the genuine draw of the Pixel originates from the product.

In any case, the Pixel is missing two components that are getting to be plainly standard in premium telephones: remote charging and water resistance. Nor is an absolute necessity have, yet in the event that Google is making you pay this much for a telephone, it would have been pleasant to incorporate something to that effect.

The outline is additionally shockingly like that of the iPhone 7, to such an extent that one of my partners thought I had two iPhones sitting around my work area when he took a fast look. It's additionally discernibly thicker, which is likely why Google could boast that the Pixel doesn't have an unattractive camera knock.

That is the really disillusioning thing about the Pixel's equipment. The iPhone 7 configuration as of now feels dated, and it's much more terrible that Google acquired so intensely from it. I would have gotten a kick out of the chance to see some innovativeness outline savvy.

All things considered, the camera stands out. I'm not sufficiently sure to back Google's claim that the Pixel has the best cell phone camera ever, however it's certainly up there. Similarly as with everything about the Pixel, some additional AI is incorporated with the camera, for this situation to help you locate the absolute best when you take a few in succession. You won't be disillusioned.

Shockingly better: Google will give you boundless capacity for all your high-determination pictures brought with the Pixel, an appreciated treat when Apple gives you just a couple of measly gigs of free iCloud stockpiling.

Conclusion

The Pixel is the best of Android and the best contrasting option to the iPhone. It's additionally only an initial step as Google quickens its equipment desire and considers improvement important interestingly. Google is at last prepared to drive Android forward and do it right, and the Pixel is an astounding begin.

Equipment is simple. Anybody can make a truly decent telephone nowadays and even do it for as little as possible. The genuine test is making the telephone support you through AI and other valuable administrations. The Pixel is evidence Google isn't simply up for that test. It can beat the opposition on the main attempt.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Goodbye to All That: Why Do Artists Reject the Art World?

Martin Herbert’s Tell Them I Said No (photo courtesy Sternberg Press)

In 2013, tired of receiving next to no recognition for my work, I decided, without any fanfare, to stop making art. Two years later, through no effort of my own, I was invited to exhibit in a group show at a popular young gallery. A few months later, a well-established gallery offered me a solo show. Miraculously, I found myself back in business. I went back into the studio. My new paintings garnered some positive reviews and a few sales. Then, work got difficult. Instead of providing an incentive, recognition paralyzed me. I felt a sense of political responsibility that I hadn’t when I was just painting for myself. Today, a year after that show, I’m considering quitting again.

Perfect timing, then, to discover Martin Herbert’s latest book, Tell Them I Said No (Sternberg Press, 2016), a collection of essays about “various artists who have withdrawn from the art world or adopted an antagonistic position toward its mechanisms.”

Herbert writes sensitively and beautifully — he’s an outstanding stylist — about the problematic relationship of artists to the art world. The 10 figures he profiles fall, roughly, into three categories: those who play with the system, those who struggle against it, and the ones who walked away in dissatisfaction.

Installation view, David Hammons: Five Decades at Mnuchin Gallery, March 15–May 27, 2016 (photo by Jillian Steinhauer/Hyperallergic)

The first group, all descendants of Marcel Duchamp, includes David Hammons, who, among other things, has placed installations made of refuse in vacant lots in Harlem and sold snowballs on the street; Stanley Brouwn, who, since 1972, has insisted that no images of his whimsical work or any biographical information be published; Lutz Bacher (a pseudonym), whose mixed-media work spurns categorization, who refuses interviews, and whose gender wasn’t even known for years; and Trisha Donnelly, who has used rumor as part of her artwork, who forbids her gallery to write press releases, and who also refuses interviews (the title of the book is her response through her gallery to a request from Herbert).

The second group’s relationship to the art world seems to be dictated in part by the artists’ temperaments. Agnes Martin suffered from schizophrenia and moved to New Mexico just as her career started taking off. Albert York had difficulty speaking to people and was so tortured by the feeling that his paintings were inadequate, he often avoided exhibitions and sales. Cady Noland said she can no longer make art because tracking how her installation work is misrepresented takes up all her time. And the career of the nearly forgotten Christopher D’Arcangelo — who  once had an exhibition in which he asked that his name be replaced by a blank space on publicity materials — only lasted four years before he committed suicide.

The third group simply found the art world insufficient. Charlotte Posenenske stopped making conceptual minimal sculpture to become a social worker, and Laurie Parsons, mortified by the idea that people were buying her work, responded to an invitation for an exhibition in Germany by choosing instead to work at a psychiatric hospital and with developmentally challenged children.

I emailed Herbert, who is the associate editor of ArtReview, to get further insight into these dropouts, contrarians, and tricksters — and, surreptitiously, to mull over my own uncertainty.

*   *   *

Giovanni Garcia-Fenech: You suggest that the art world, ironically, loves artists who buck against it. That certainly seems true for David Hammons, who’s clearly very much in control of his situation, but in some of the other cases, as with Agnes Martin, Albert York, Cady Noland, and Christopher D’Arcangelo, it feels like their stance could be interpreted as borderline pathological. Do you think the admiration might stem from the old romantic idea of the “mad artist”?

Martin Herbert: I wouldn’t rule it out, though I’d hope not. Autonomy can manifest in subtler ways, too. Clearly psychological issues shaded Agnes Martin’s retreat, but once she’d gone to the desert she was, to the extent that it was possible, in control of her situation, and certainly in interviews she emphasised the connection between how she lived and what she made. York was seriously introverted but also needed time, nature, and freedom from distraction to make those paintings, and built those conditions for himself. For me — and this speaks also to Noland and D’Arcangelo’s cases — admiration for these artists has more to do with recognizing that they are/were embattled in their relation to the art world but also creating out of that embattlement, or refusing to create in a way that’s as articulate as creating.

Agnes Martin, “Mid Winter” (c. 1954), oil on canvas, 83.8 x 121.9 cm, Taos Municipal Schools Historic Art Collection, New Mexico (© 2015 Agnes Martin/Artists Rights Society, ARS, New York)

In terms of old romantic ideas, a variation of “tortured artist” might be part of the appeal, for some viewers. But I’d hope that what connects the figures I wrote about is this: Everyone I know thinks the art world as it’s set up now, and as it has evolved over the last half-century, is a deeply flawed system, and these artists — diversely, sometimes at self-sacrificing cost and sometimes to their benefit — highlight that fact or call it out. Whereas most of us develop our own variant on “oh well.” It’s possible that the idea of walking out of this world at all, where there’s an unspoken assumption that everyone engaged in cultural work is a de facto lifer, strikes some people as “mad.”

GGF: Considering the problematic relationship some of the older artists you profiled had/have with the art world, such as Stanley Brouwn, one of the inevitable questions is: how did they manage to have any careers at all? Was this possible because the art world functioned so differently in the 1960s and ’70s? MH: Yes, I think that’s part of it. It’s also the case that nobody begins with a withdrawal, or without somehow “earning” the right to leave. (There’s a parenthetical in the book about “the forbearance of galleries” in this regard that would probably take another essay to unpack.) Brouwn began making art in the late ’50s, and it wasn’t until the early ’70s, after which point he’d appeared on TV, that he was done with interviews, photographs, contributions to catalogues, etc. Plus, his self-displacement seems inextricable from the conceptual nature of his art, which has much to do with generating large, ideational spaces for the viewer to inhabit, and in the ’60s it was congruent with historical notions of dematerialization. Hammons, too — whose attitude to showing up also conflates with his work — was more “present” in the early part of his career, though he’s noted that in the ’70s Los Angeles art milieu he formatively operated in, exhibiting regularly was considered vulgar. Which is as far as you can get from, say, galleries encouraging their artists to use Instagram, to overproduce for fairs, to do the multi-tasking and audience-facing that, outwardly, attends the role today. 

GGF: When you look at artists who hit their stride in the 1980s and after, their relationship with the art world seems more complicated, and they consciously include it as a layer in their work — I’m thinking Hammons or Lutz Bacher — or stop producing new work, like Noland. Do you think today’s art world, which revolves so much around fame and wealth, precludes the more ephemeral practices of previous decades?

Trisha Donnelly, “Untitled (T)” (2007), long-needle white pine and pay leaves, collection Debra and Dennis Scholl (photo by Libby Rosof/Flickr)

MH: The youngest artist I wrote about is Trisha Donnelly (b. 1974), who seems to be making a good fist of being both here and not here, and who has been progressively, rewardingly elusive over the last decade and a half. She doesn’t court the publicity machine anymore, even to the point of sanctioning press crib notes; she appears quite interested in rumour as an artistic medium. I’m not completely sure what you mean by “ephemeral” in this context, but I feel like Donnelly’s work, though material, is ephemeral in that it involves arrangements of sculptures, images, photographs, sound, etc., that you need to be there to see, and that don’t have a functional secondary life on the internet. In staging an experience, she seems to have recognized that there are certain things an artist might not necessarily have to do and that the work could be stronger for it, and she’s arrived at a place where that’s permissible. Of course, one irony of this is that the fascination rests partly on scarcity value and exoticism. If most successful artists locked themselves in the studio and said next to nothing, the self-publicist would become cutting-edge — as has happened before.  

GGF: Of the artists you profile, the ones who carried the most resonance for me in the current political climate were Charlotte Posenenske and Laurie Parsons, who, decades apart, felt that art was not enough and moved on to do more concretely helpful things outside of the field. Would you say that they were precursors to the social practice of artists like Tania Bruguera or Theaster Gates, or were their cases about something else?

MH: I’d say they were comparable in terms of what’s at stake in the work — how art can propel genuine, measurable social change — although Posenenske and Parsons, and Bruguera and Gates, arrive at hugely different responses to the same conclusion: that art as contained within the exhibiting system is not enough. The art historian Christine Mehring has this great phrase about Posenenske, that she’s the art world’s “bad conscience.” If you’re aware of and moved by the implications of her stance, and Parsons’s, the options are to quit also and do something that seems more vital; not do so and live with the bad conscience; or, like Bruguera, Gates, et al, salve your sense of communitarian responsibility by resourcefully collapsing together art and social activism. To the extent that Posenenske and Parsons might be considered precursors, it could be both in their ambitions for a social art and as examples whose seeming defeatism — albeit a defeatism that’s an indictment, a statement — asks to be creatively moved past: in light of their art, if you don’t stop, what do you do?

That said, one thing I point out in the book is that Posenenske, at the end of her life, wanted to exhibit again. And if you look at Hammons now, he’s making explicit moves towards visibility, perhaps heedful of how art history will view him. I don’t think any of these issues around leaving or staying in the art world are clear-cut or fixed: they’re wrestled with over the course of a life and modulated by circumstances. But better that than not wrestling at all.

Cady Noland, “This Piece Has No Title Yet” (1989) at the Rubell Collection (photo by Hrag Vartanian/Hyperallergic)

Martin Herbert’s Tell Them I Said No is published by Sternberg Press and available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

The post Goodbye to All That: Why Do Artists Reject the Art World? appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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