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chronic-ghost · 3 years ago

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WIP - Wow it’s actually Wedneday!

I was in the shower actually mentally making some changes to this fic and came out to find I was tagged by the lovely @sleepswithvillains! If y’all haven’t read her Midnight Mass stuff, y’all are missing out - but might be able to sleep at night without being haunted by her beautiful smut - so honestly it’s a lose-lose if you’re not reading her fics.

This WIP comes from my new John/reader that was actually inspired by some tags I read awhile back. This takes immediately after the end of the series - the opening scene is the last shot of the island on fire. You are a reporter in the port city of Crockett and as Erin Greene was your beloved cousin, you are determined to find out what the hell happened on Easter Sunday. But from your emotionally-distant father who is chief of police, your monstrous ex-fiance who is determined to make your life unbearable, to the new mysterious drifter in town who suffers from terrible burn scars and whom you can’t seem to stay away from, solving Erin’s murder is shaping up to be a lot harder than you first suspected.

And because Henry doesn’t have a kind bone in his body, it’s not. It’s not the end of your suffering, not by a long shot.

The rumors start that you’ve been seeing another man and poor broken-hearted Henry knew about it but let it continue because it was your dying mother’s wish that she see you taken care of. But now with her gone, he simply couldn’t continue the charade and gently broke off the engagement.

The rumors mutated, growing and morphing like great throbbing pustules. Now you slept with every man in town, twice on Sundays, and sent them nude photos at dinner. Now you liked being fucked upside down with cords around your tits and warm leather spanking your ass. Now you were pregnant with the mayor’s child or maybe the postman’s or maybe the local priest’s. Obviously that one fell by the wayside fairly quickly but still the women and men in town watched you like you had indeed fucked Father Malcolm and the devil before murdering babies in their sleep.

You walked around with words like, “slut” and “whore” hovering just a few steps behind you like angry hornets.

Without hesitation, the town chose Henry and the rest of the Tylers in the break-up. And you could have withstood it all — the death of your mother, Henry’s utter betrayal, Johanna’s horrible mouth twisting when she said she never wanted to see you again after what you did to her brother — all of it, if your father hadn’t chosen to abandon you.

He was already long gone from being emotionally supportive by the time you arrived back in Hubbard, but after the break up with Henry, he never once asked for your side of the story. He never once asked what it meant to you or how you managed to keep it all together. He took the lies and the poison and the hate Henry spat out and accepted it. He listened to what they called his baby girl around town and swallowed it down like rotten milk.

And so this grief and this despair and anger that had been festering like an infected wound since you were sixteen finally settled and hardened over, a black chrysalis around your heart, around anything soft or nice or gentle. Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t survive. You wouldn’t survive this town or its people. You could either kneel before its gnashing jaws, break beneath the weight of its teeth, or you could fight. You would be swallowed in the end — you all were — but at least you would make it choke.

*~*~*

Night has fallen on Crockett Island and on its sister city in the east, Hubbard Bay. The water laps against the beach south of Hubbard, near the woods and hidden from view by any late-night trespassers. Here the wildlife surges — flies buzz near dead things, and frogs bark in their holes. Owls dive and flutter from tree top to tree top, eternally curious. The mice on the ground of the forest scatter from the swooping shadows. A wolf lets out a howl to find its pack.

A deer near the water lifts its head, the flight instinct waking its legs to run. The rest of its small herd freezes and listens for more howls, but one of the deer looks away. It smells something in the water and, intrigued, it approaches the black husk thrown onto the beach by the waves.

It smells like smoke and death and immediately the deer knows to run, to get away, because whatever this thing is, it’s dangerous.

But it’s too late.

A burnt hand grabs the deer by the throat and drags it to the ground. It lets out a surprised yelp as it falls, the rest of its herd flying into the forest, knowing there is nothing to be done.

Ash-covered teeth tear into the deer’s throat, the arm pinning it to the ground unnaturally strong. And then the figure drinks the flowing blood like it’s salvation. The deer struggles, its hooves stroking uselessly against the sand, but the creature attached to its throat is feeding far too fast, the body losing blood too quickly for it to fully comprehend what’s happening.

Blood runs black in the shadow of the body of the deer, down the cool sand and into the lapping waves, staining the crests pink. The creature feeds and feeds and feeds, the deer going still beneath it. Beneath the white light of the moon, the black, burnt skin sloughs off like a snake shedding its skin. Inch by inch, white skin emerges beneath the layers of soot and dried veins, dried organs, dried fingernails. Hair sprouts up the back of the black skull as eyelashes spring out of dark sockets. What washed up onto the beach south of Hubbard Bay has become a man. Or at least something that mimics one.

Gasping through a bloody mouth, the man sits back on his heels, panting into the moonlight. He stares, horror-struck at his hands, now caked in blood and viscera, at his thighs, his legs. The blood, only that of an animal, hasn’t performed a perfect miracle: the skin in some places is still gnarled, white, scars of sunlight still visible and painful in a dull sort of way.

Half his face hurts. He reaches up and touches it and feels that warped skin beneath his fingertips. With a gasp, he yanks his hand back and the weight of what he has done collides with his every atom and he leans forward into a sob.

No. No, no, no, no.

He cries for what he has lost. He cries for what he has become. He cries at the idea that he always might have been this horrible monster, one who feeds upon the living, and it was only in the past few months he finally became what he was always meant to be. Naked and covered in blood, at the feet of a corpse, this is who he really was.

The heat from the blood of the deer is fading and the man realizes just how cold he truly is. Sniffing and wiping his eyes, the man looks into the darkness of the forest, his eyes flashing a monstrous silver. In the distance, he sees a cabin with the lights off. His sense of smell tells him there are no humans around, so he struggles to his feet, arms wrapped around his chest to preserve some sense of warmth. The man takes off into the night, towards the cabin, towards Hubbard and into a dawning new world.

I tag @stormikins @taxontaxoff @femalecynic @agirlinherhead @myletternevercame and @fortysevenswrites and anyone else who wants to share their progress!

#midnight mass #taylor tags #monsignor john pruitt/reader #wip wednesday #this one is gonna be sad y'all #wip

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burntcopper · 5 years ago

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Mark Monahan, dance critic

7 MAY 2019 • 7:00AM

It is one of those volatile spring days where the weather can’t make up its mind, and I am in the studios at Three Mills Island, deep in the East End of London, watching rehearsals for Matthew Bourne’s brand-new production of Romeo and Juliet. To judge by the section of Prokofiev’s ever-astonishing score firing from the speakers, we are in the midst of the final, calamitous scene of Act II.

Tybalt staggers on, paralytically drunk. So far, so familiar to anyone who’s seen certain Tybalts in the Royal Ballet’s production – except that he is also clutching a revolver, which he brandishes at the terrified crowd of young onlookers. He then takes Mercutio and Balthasar hostage, forcing them, at gunpoint, to snog each other. As Bourne slyly tells me a little later, “I should say, it doesn’t follow the plot exactly – it is a Romeo and Juliet-type story We have got a couple of surprises up our sleeve…”

How could Bourne possibly not? After all, he is the dance-theatre supremo who, with his company Adventures in Motion Pictures (recast as New Adventures in 2002), has repeatedly put bold new spins on old works, often opening them up to entirely new audiences.

He is most famous for having redefined ballet at a stroke in 1995 by making all the waterfowl in his Swan Lake brazenly bare-chested men. But he also spiced up Carmen with a dash of The Postman Always Rings Twice and set the result in a steamy garage (The Car Man, 2000); transformed an obscure Sixties film, The Servant, into perhaps the other sexiest dance show so far this millennium (Play Without Words, 2002); and risked taking two adored, emphatically cinematic films – Edward Scissorhands and The Red Shoes – and putting them on stage (in 2005 and 2016). It was also Bourne who set Cinderella in Blitz-ravaged London (1997), thoroughly re-cracked The Nutcracker (1992) and sharpened up The Sleeping Beauty with vampires (2012). The fact that this master choreographer-producer and storyteller – already riding high with his superb current revival of Swan Lake – is now tackling the most stirring balletic tale of all makes this the single most eagerly awaited dance show of 2019.

“I think the key to the success of this company,” he tells me, “is that it brings in people who feel this is not something they’d normally understand, something they’re a bit scared of.”

So, besides the snippet of Act II that I catch, what sort of Romeo and Juliet can we expect when it launches in Leicester next week? The various New Adventures members I chat to prior to Bourne himself maintain an omertà-like silence about it, saying only that it’s set in an unspecified time in the near future, and reminding me that the show’s tag-line is “Imagine a time when love is forbidden …”.

Thankfully, the New Adventures grand vizier himself – remarkably affable and unstuffy in person – is a little more forthcoming. Designed (as usual with this company) by the terrific Lez Brotherston, the show, Bourne says, will be roughly two hours long, in three acts, but with just one interval, with the score rearranged (by Terry Davies) for a 15-strong live band. He also says that his scenario was “very vaguely” inspired by Anna Hope’s 2016 novel The Ballroom. Beyond that, however, Bourne is careful to tantalise rather than reveal, and this spirit of mystery extends to the show itself.

“We haven’t absolutely hit on a definite ‘this is it’ thing,” he says, “We think all these young people are in this institute. I want the audience to ask, ‘Why are they there? Is this to do with mental health? Is this a borstal? Is this a prison, a school? What is it? What’s going on? They’re obviously receiving some sort of medication. What it comes down to is that any excess of feeling is frowned upon and has to be, um…”

Quelled?

“Yes, quelled – good word! So, emotions are kept to a minimum, and they’re all young people who’ve been dumped there, because they’re trouble.”

Tybalt, Bourne explains, is now a corrupt guard. And, although there appears to be no Capulet family in this version, “we still get one set of parents, the Montagues, who bring Romeo there. We see him arrive, and they’re a bit like Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright in House of Cards, a political couple probably, and Romeo’s a bit of an embarrassment. He’s a bit like [the US President’s youngest child] Barron Trump, but a little bit older. He seems to have been locked away somewhere, bless him, poor boy.”

Bourne also hints that he, true to form, will not be holding back on the sensual side of things.

“I felt I could capture something that’s not in the ballet if we set it in a different time, something that was a bit more raw, a bit more like young people really are. I mean, when they get together, they go for it. They’re not thrilled by a kiss on the cheek – if they’re kissing, they’re kissing for hours.”

The regularity with which the word “young” comes up as we talk nods to another remarkable aspect of this new production. It marks the largest confluence to date of the two main strands of Bourne’s company: its fully professional performing side, and the charitable arm that aims to inspire young people to try their hand at dance. In practice, this means that a huge and heartening number of young people are involved in every aspect of the production which features two separate casts, each with their own set of star-crossed lovers.

It’s remarkable enough that two of the Juliets – Bryony Wood and Bryony Harrison – are just 19 and 21 respectively, and that one of the Romeos (Harrison Dowzell) is also 19. But many of the performers will be younger still.

A year or so ago, the company did a nationwide call-out for what they call the “local casts”. It whittled the 1,000-odd trainee dancers who applied down to 97, all aged 16-19, who will now be performing with the company. Throughout the 13-venue tour, New Adventures will be divided in half, with each half leapfrogging the other across the country. So, as one (dubbed the Capulets) starts performing in one town, the other (the Montagues) will begin a week’s pre-show rehearsal in the next. And waiting to join the company in every city, with the adrenalin doubtless pumping ferociously, will be six of those already-prepped youngsters. (The exception is the Leicester sextet, already involved in the London rehearsals.)

This, I suggest to the young-cast rehearsal director Paul Smethurst, looks like a project that could benefit British dance full-stop. “We have definitely found the next generation of star dancers,” he says. “And, we’ve found so many of them.”

What’s more, this youth drive extends to every aspect of the production. For example, young associate choreographer Arielle Smith is just 22. When she insists to me that Bourne often tells her, “Do what you want to do!”, and Smethurst, that “Arielle has a real voice and a real vision that she’s bringing to the piece”, I do privately wonder just how much trust the 59-year-old, Tony- and Olivier-garlanded Sir Matthew Bourne, OBE can really be putting in one so young. Then, minutes later – with Bourne coaching the principals across the corridor – there she is, working with dozens of corps members, and “holding” the room with complete command.

Now, these are, of course, gender-fluid times, especially in the eyes of the young. Besides which, Hackney-born Bourne (who these days lives in Islington with his partner, fellow choreographer Arthur Pita) has often toyed around with sexuality in his productions. Was he, I wonder, tempted to make his Romeo and Juliet a gay romance?

“Well,” he says, “I suppose years ago I may have gone with that. But, following on from Lord of the Flies [revived in 2014 with a largely teenage cast], which was all men, I didn’t feel this was the right time to go all male. So I thought, no, this is a chance to work with young people of both sexes.”

That said, Tybalt’s viciously enforced embrace does suggest that Bourne is up to plenty of gender-related mischief here.

“Oh, definitely, yes,” he confirms. “We wanted to have all life is here a little bit, especially with all the young people involved. I give them a bit of freedom with whatever sexuality they choose to be – how their character identified was important. For example, Mercutio’s got a boyfriend in this – that’s Balthasar. And there are a couple of girl characters who identify as gay, with one, Frenchy, who’s in love with Juliet.”

If anyone can get away with all this sort of thing, it is Bourne. His theatrical instincts have seldom let him down over the years (2008’s Dorian Gray the exception that proves the rule), and the brief section I see rehearsed – despite the absence of proper set, lighting, costumes and live music – is genuinely thrilling. What, I ask him, is the secret of his success? How has someone who didn’t even start dance training until he was 22 (at the Laban, in south-east London) made such a colossal mark on the dance world?

He credits his famous obsession with character – with giving every single person on stage a backstory and a purpose – with having collaborated on various non-New Adventures shows with “great directors” such as Trevor Nunn, John Caird, Sam Mendes and Richard Eyre. He also adds, “I think the key to the success is that I’m also quite reverential. I love the ballets, I love the scores, and I don’t want to mess with them too much. I want to honour the composers in a way that I feel is OK. And I want to tell a story to people.”

And want to get the audience involved?

“Yes,” he confirms. “And it just comes completely naturally to me. It’s not something I work at. I’ve never thought, ‘How do you get an audience on-side?’ It’s just completely the way I think about things, and I don’t see the point of it otherwise.”

Matthew Bourne’s Romeo + Juliet opens on May 13 at the Curve, Leicester, and tours the UK until October. Details and tickets: new-adventures.net

#romeo and juliet #matthew bourne

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bbbb-barnes · 7 years ago

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Look After You - Bucky Barnes X Reader [3]

Summery; Bucky Barnes discovers his sister is still alive and finds comfort in the endearing nurse that cares for his dying sibling

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Word count; 4336 (long one oops)

Warnings: Blood (In the first italicised part) angst and swearing.

I’m loving writing this so if you’re enjoying it please let me know, if you want to be tagged i’ll add you my requests are also open. Enjoy!!!

June 6th, 1941

The early evening orange sunset painted the whole makeshift army base in a decadent amber hue, various soldiers milled about, jostling with each other, playing cards and swapping pictures of their dames, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths as they did so. The air smelled of gunpowder and sweat and the atmosphere was relaxed, Bucky kicked his legs up and rested them on the upturned crate in front of him crossing his arms behind his head turning his face towards the setting sun, enjoying the warm feeling as it danced across his skin, he let his eyes lazily fall close as he concentrated on the Vera Lynn song crackling through the old radio nearby, he let himself relax like this for a while, it was a rare peaceful moment amid the chaos of war. A large figure heavily stomped in front of him, blocking the sun from his face and making him frown. The robust man in question gruffly cleared his throat and Bucky’s eyes flitted open. “Sargent Barnes, some mail has arrived for you” The soldier saluted with one hand and the other clutched a white envelope. Bucky waved him away signalling him to stand to attention, he did as he was told. “Thank you, Meyers” Bucky took the letter off him and gave him a quick salute, after returning the gesture Meyers stomped away. Bucky sat up and rested his elbows on his knees studying the letter, he knew straight away it was from Rebecca the slightly childlike writing was a dead giveaway and caused his face to break into a grin. These were the only letters he paid any mind to, he received many from different dames he had spent spontaneous nights with in various cities and countries in a pathetic bid to combat the loneliness of war, he always left them with promises to write back but he never did, he didn’t even open their letters. He shook those thoughts from his head and ripped open the letter, nostalgia and homesickness punching him in the gut as he saw his sisters familiar scrawl.

Dearest Bucky,

I miss you very much, Brooklyn is not the same without you. News of your death has reached the town and mama is very upset, she doesn’t get out of bed anymore, not even to take me to school or answer the postman and all we ever do is cry cry cry cry cry and cry. Why have you left us Bucky? I can’t do this on my own. We need you here. I told you not to go. Why have you left me?

Suddenly thick, deep red blotches fell on to the letter with a loud, wet slapping sound blurring the ink, Bucky sobbed in shock horror, choking and gasping as the blood coated his hands, falling from his head, sliding down his face and mixing with the tears as the liquid deteriorated the letter into nothing, until he was holding on to nothing, until there was nothing. Red everywhere, blood everywhere. He screamed but no sound came up, he screamed for his mama, he screamed for his home, his eyes were heavy, and he was so tired he just wanted to go home, and he screamed for his sister, for Becca. He never got to say goodbye.

You jumped up with a start, hands scrambling over your bedspread trying to ground yourself. Your hair was stuck to your forehead with sticky sweat and your breathing was sporadic and heavy. Just a dream, it was just a dream. You sat in your mess of blankets letting yourself calm down for a few seconds. You couldn’t shake the dream, it was so vivid and so real. You rubbed your face, which was stiff with dried tears, you had been crying. You let out a sad sigh and your heart ached for Rebecca and for Bucky, for a situation that you yourself didn’t fully understand but knew you had a role to play in bringing these two people back together, you were in too deep, but you didn’t care. You grabbed your phone which you had carelessly thrown on the bedside table to check the time, 7:28am two minutes before your scheduled alarm, you pulled yourself from the warm cocoon that was your bed and padded barefoot across the wood floor of your bedroom, your bare feet arched slightly as they came into contact of the cold kitchen tiles, you grabbed Rufus’s food from the side and shook it before pouring it messily into his blue food bowl. You flicked the kettle on and leaned against the kitchen sideboard waiting for it to boil and absentmindedly looking out of the window that overlooked the grey, rainy New York morning, your mind wandered to Rebecca, as it often did these days and you mentally reminded yourself to call and check in later. Your stomach dropped as your eyes fell on the eyesore that was Avengers HQ and the reality of the day ahead hit you full force, the nightmare had distracted you for a while and you didn’t know which thought process you preferred.

After you gulped a large, scalding cup of coffee down, took a quick shower and blow dried your hair in to lose waves you stood in front of your open wardrobe with your hands on your hips, towel wrapped tightly around your body as your freshly dried hair flowed down your back. You needed to look like you had your shit together, you had to look like you had enough money to invest in Stark industries when in actual fact you had to live off instant noodles for the past week while you waited for your pay check to come through. You pulled a black long sleeve blouse out of the wreckage before surveying in and throwing it on to a discarded pile in the corner of the room, you did this with a few items of clothing before getting frustrated and flopping down on the bed with a sigh. That’s when you saw the skin tight, high waisted, knee length pencil skirt, pushing all of your insecure thoughts to the back of your head you slipped it on with a flowing white blouse tucked in, against your better judgement you unbuttoned the top two buttons, letting a slight bit of cleavage show, you slipped on some black stilettos and decided to put some make up on, you needed to look like you came from money, not from 4 hours sleep. After you were finished you looked in the mirror, the makeup helped you look less dead, your eyelashes were curled to perfection and before you could second guess yourself you smeared some red lipstick on and took a step back from the floor length mirror that hung on the back of your bedroom door. You felt sexy, you felt dangerous, you felt like you could take on the world never mind Tony fucking Stark. You savoured this feeling, it was rare, but you liked it.

“What do you think, Rufus?” You asked opening your bedroom door dramatically and strutting out, your heels clicking against the hard wood floor, catching the attention of the chubby cat who looked up at you bewildered, he wasn’t used to seeing you like this either it seemed. You grabbed your bag, an umbrella and your white name badge, clipping it on to your blouse. You had toyed with the idea of using a fake name but that was after 2 glasses of wine on a Wednesday evening and you quickly discarded that idea come Thursday morning.

The 5 minute walk to the tower was spent with you running through your carefully constructed (you thought of it last night) idea in your head. Clock the ladies’ bathroom as soon as you enter and when you were far enough away you would ask to use the bathroom, head in the general direction and when nobody is around to stop you, make a break and find Steve Rogers. Simple. Easy. Your confident persona was starting to slip as you strode down the wet pavement, you rounded a corner and audibly gulped. There it was, in all its shiny, expensive lavish glory. You stopped for a second, taking it all in scanning the entrance where two beefy security guards stood eyes darting around the various people milling around the entrance. After a deep breath and a mental pep talk you held your head high and walked straight up to building, pushing the heavy, glass doors and stepping into the warm reception area. Whoever said confidence works was right, the security guards didn’t even give you a second glance. Inside was it was sparkling clean, marble floors, glass walls, a sweeping staircase took up one side of the room and various lavish couches were dotted around, a few men in suits occupied them and a huge marble curved desk with a large obnoxious A emblazoned on the front took up the whole back wall, you checked your watch 9:26am, 4 minutes early. You walked up to the front desk, heels clicking on the marble floor catching the attention of the receptionist and notifying her of your arrival, she was a young, pretty girl with dark hair pulled into a high pony tail. It looked like it was giving the poor girl a headache. She gave you a wide smile showing off pearly white teeth.

“Hi! How can I help you?” She chirped, bright eyes giving you a quick once over. You smiled back at her “I’m here to see Tony Stark, for the investors tour” you replied coolly tapping your name badge, her eyes followed, and she read your name and quickly started typing with her brows furrowed.

“Mr Stark is running a little late, he’ll be here in a few moments if you’d like to take a seat” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger over to a plush leather sofa. You nodded silently at the young woman you walked swiftly over to the seating area and sank into the leather, trying to find a way to sit without looking awkward, you settled with crossing your legs over each other and practising your poker face trying your hardest to not look overwhelmed.

“Rich and beautiful, a lady after my own heart” The sound of an obnoxious male voice bellowed through the reception and you snapped your head towards it. Dissenting the large staircase with incredible grace and confidence was Tony Stark. Head to toe in a pristine suit, tinted glasses were perched on his nose, his hair groomed to perfection. He had his arms outstretched towards you as he approached and you stood up quickly, smoothing down your skirt and plastering on a wide, incredibly fake smile. You saw him give you a long once over, not trying to hide it, you had to visibly stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr Stark” you greeted, pulling his attention back to your face, you gave him a sickly sweet smile.

“Good Morning, Y/N” he greeted back, squinting slightly to look at the name badge you had been provided in the letter confirming your place, he extended a ring clad hand and you took it, shaking his hand swiftly, without saying anything else he began to stride ahead, climbing the stairs he just came from, gesturing you to follow. Your brow furrowed in confusion, you were supposed to be in a group. You hurried behind him, heels clicking on the floor as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“Um, Mr Stark, where is the rest of the group?” you asked as you finally reached his side, climbing the last few steps and trying not to seem as out of breath as you were. He stopped at the top and turned to look at you.

“As much as I love the sound of Mr Stark coming from your mouth please, call me Tony, and change of plans it’s a one on one tour now, my favourite kind.” He said that last part with a wink and carried on walking down the very overwhelming hall ways. Shit shit shit, you suddenly felt sick, this wasn’t going to work one on one. This wasn’t part of the plan. Your eyes darted around nervously as you walked and you were aware that you were surrounded by high tech machinery, lab equipment, weapons and vehicles, you tried not to look like a child as you ogled at your surroundings all concealed by tall glass windows, your heels clicked loudly as you followed behind Tony. He led you into a large office, which homed a large, shiny oak desk, a full bookcase and a full glass wall, looking out over New York. He settled in the large office chair behind the desk and gestured for you to sit opposite him. You smiled and perched on the edge of the seat as you crossed your legs. Without taking his eyes off you he retrieved a intricate, crystal bottle of what you assumed was Whisky. He poured two, expensive looking whisky glasses and pushed one over to you with a wicked grin. You kept your eyes trained on him as you threw it back, it burned like a bitch, but your head was swimming and you needed to think of a plan, it all felt too real now, your chest felt tight and your hands were clammy.

“Rich, beautiful, not much of a talker and you drink whisky. Marry me?” He teased before sinking his glass and refilling them both, you drank it in one mouthful again, just because you didn’t know how to reply, you smiled at him expectantly, willing him to get to the point.

“So, lets cut the bullshit. Everybody knows what’s in here, a quick google search will do that for you” he paused to sip his drink and you raised your eyebrows at his confidence. “You don’t need a tour and you want to invest, who wouldn’t?” He asked, taking another tentative sip and leaning back in his chair, if you weren’t so nervous you’d be impressed.

“I think you’re going to have to do better than that Mr Stark. I want to see where my money’s going” you clasped your clammy hands together in your lap and he filled your glass again.

“You see where its going every day sweetheart, you see how much profit is in these walls just by walking past, I’m a busy man I don’t have time to show you everything” he refilled his own and held It up to you, he was insanely relaxed, you sipped your drink this time, attempting not to wince at the burn.

“If you think getting me drunk is going to help your cause, you’re wrong” you stated flatly, trying to buy some time. He threw his head back and laughed, loud and obnoxious.

“Worth a try” He chuckled, finishing off his drink and stretching his arms behind his head, looking at you over the top of his glasses.

“Can I use your bathroom?” you blurted out, at a loss for things to say and needing to pull yourself together. He sighed and sat up straighter.

“Just down that hall way, then take a left” he pointed in the direction of the east corridor and you stood up quickly, feeling a little light headed, hoping he didn’t see your slight stumble you hurried out of the room and down the looming corridors heading in the direction he pointed. You took the left but strode straight passed the bathroom, seeing an elevator at the end of the corridor you hurried into it, there were too many buttons and none of them made much sense, so you jammed a few hoping they would take you were you need to go. The elevator dropped quickly, and you gripped the hand rail for balance, it stopped abruptly and opened up into a dingy, large garage filled with various shiny sports cars, you figured you wouldn’t find Steve here, so you pressed another random button and the elevator jolted to life and shot upwards. The pristine steel doors shot open on to what seemed like a communal living area, the place seemed slightly lived in cushions askew on the large sofa, a sweater was thrown over the side, the large TV was on playing a movie you didn’t recognise, the place opened up with a lot of natural light and had a large kitchen in the corner with all the gadgets you could name, this place was nice. You stepped out and the elevator zoomed away again, you suddenly felt very uncomfortable like you were in somebody’s personal space. Despite everything in your head telling you to flee this place, you softly walked down the corridor connected to the large communal area. There were multiple closed doors lining the carpeted hall way, the doors were numbered and had high tech looking locks on them. You reached the end of the corridor and stopped at a large, glass wall that loomed over a huge gym, this seemed like a very high tech facility. Your eyes scanned the floor and did a double take when you noticed a figure in the corner you didn’t see upon first inspection, you put your hands either side of the glass to get a better look at the tall, hunched over figure sat on the bench in the corner of the gym, he had his hands clasped together and dark, long hair covered his face, in a instant his face snapped up and his icy blue eyes met yours, you audibly gasped and stepped back quickly, his eyes made your blood run cold, you knew those eyes, you had seen them before. His face was emotionless and he was just staring into your eyes and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his, you felt grounded to him In this moment, and nothing else seemed to matter and you don’t know how long you stood there staring at him, staring at Bucky Barnes.

“So how exactly did you acquire your fortune again?” a hard voice came from behind you and you yelped in shock spinning around and pressing your back against the glass wall, looking at you visibly irritated was Tony Stark.

“My parents?” you tried with a small smile, but you knew you had been caught, he raised his eyebrows at you and snatched the tinted glasses off his nose with a large sigh, he started walking and gestured for you to follow, you quickly obliged. He led you to the communal area and pointed at the sofa, you sat down timidly, he loomed over you.

“Okay kid, just so you’re aware this place is heavily armed, try anymore funny business and I can obliterate you in two seconds” he started in a warning tone and you visibly cringed, he continued without waiting for an answer.

“You couldn’t stop your slack jaw from falling when you saw the most basic tech, you winced when drinking expensive whisky, which went straight to your head, you’re nervous as hell and you’ve gone walk about in my tower. So, unless you have a really good excuse you need to leave, like now.” He stepped closer to you, so he was literally leaning over you, giving you a hard stare with a quirked brow almost begging you to question him so he could use all the weapons he’d been boasting about.

“I need to see Steve Rogers” you blurted out and he looked visibly unimpressed, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, shit you couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“We’re just letting crazy fangirls in now, right get out” he stepped back and gestured towards the door, you stood up and took a step towards him, a pleading look in your eye.

“Please, its about Bucky, its important” You looked into his brown eyes and he scoffed at you.

“Barnes, really? leave now” He grabbed his phone and put it to his ear, tapping his foot. In a fit of confidence you pushed his phone out of his hands, you weren’t getting this chance again and if you couldn’t say you did everything you could then you couldn’t live with yourself, he looked at you like you had just fucking shot him.

“Did you really just- “he started to shout but you cut him off.

“Look I need to talk to Bucky or Steve okay, its serious it’s about Bucky’s sister it about Rebecca, she’s alive but probably not for much longer, I shouldn’t have come in here like this and I’m sorry but I’ve tried everything else and I don’t know what to do but I promised I would help her so PLEASE” you gushed, squaring up to him, you felt a lump form in your throat because you had gotten this far, he couldn’t turn you away now, he looked bewildered but before he could speak, a heavy set blonde man you had only ever seen in pictures emerged from the corridor, he planted himself in between you and tony and looked down at you with intense blue eyes.

“Becca’s alive?” he asked firmly, and you just nodded violently.

You threw the pictures down on the table, one you had printed of you and Becca last thanksgiving, old pictures of Bucky and his family and letters from Bucky to Rebecca. You were sat around the large table in the kitchen area with Steve and Tony. You had apologised to Tony, but he still seemed wary of you, staring at you through yellow tinted lenses constantly. Steve just looked through the papers you had given him with his brows furrowed.

“I promise you, I’m telling the truth” you had blurted out your story when Steve told you that you had five minutes to explain yourself and you jumped into the story, assuring them you had proof too. Tony looked to Steve with apprehension who looked up from the letters and sighed.

“This all checks out, what can I do?” he asked, eyes on you and you felt your shoulder sag with pure relief.

“Well, she’d love to see him, to see both of you. I just didn’t know with um Mr Barnes’ situation” you trailed off awkwardly not knowing how to refer to it. Tony laughed, Steve cringed. Steve raked a hand through his short hair and thought for a few moments.

“We could just bring her in here we have top of the range medical facilities, it makes sense” Tony announced, he sounded bored as he leaned back in the kitchen chair, the thought made your heart drop.

“No, that’s not a good idea, I’ve been caring for her for years, you want to take a dementia patient out of her home a shove her in a sterile facility where she doesn’t know anybody? its cruel” you protested quickly, the thought dawned on you that these two men could override your decision in a heartbeat, it scared you. Tony narrowed his eyes at you, opening his mouth to defend himself before Steve quickly interrupted.

“You’re right, let’s set up a meeting, ill come with him and you’ll be there too. If anything goes wrong I can control Bucky, if you can handle Rebecca” his face was sombre, this was probably a hard situation for him too you realised. You nodded and felt a weight lift off your shoulders, you weren’t sure how the meeting would go, but you did all you could possibly do to help, and you felt accomplished at that thought

“Thank you, Mr Rogers she… she never got to say goodbye and it kills her, this means the world” you thanked him sincerely and his eyes softened a little.

“Please, It’s Steve and you really care about her huh?” he asked with a small smile as his eyes fell onto the old picture of Bucky and Rebecca, outside their childhood home.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You answered honestly.

“So, you’re a nurse?” Tony asked disbelieving still staring at you, you broke into a grin without thinking and his mouth quirked a little at you. “No, don’t make me smile I’m still mad at you” he announced pointing at you before getting up and leaving. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Florence Nightingale” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator, he sent you a wink before he zoomed off and Steve breathed out a laugh.

“Sorry about that” he apologised slightly awkwardly, hands fiddling with the pictures.

“Don’t be, I’m the one that lied my way in here” you laughed slightly, and he joined in as you stretched your arms. It had been a long day.

“Tomorrow” Steve said abruptly, before you could question anything he continued “Buck’s had a few good days, ill talk to him about all this and if he’s up for it, we’ll stop by tomorrow is that okay?” he looked a little nervous at the thought and to be honest so were you, you wanted it to go well but they were both very unreliable, unpredictable people.

“Tomorrow is good, we’ll see how it goes” you reassured, and he nodded satisfied with your answer.

After scribbling your number down for Steve, insisting he keep the photo’s you brought and a slightly awkward hug, you clicked out of the building, stopping to give Tony an overenthusiastic wave when you saw him on the way out, which he returned with a middle finger. It was warmer out and you walked home slowly, you couldn’t help but feel enthusiastic about tomorrow, you called up Becca on the way home, who seemed confused so you didn’t mention Bucky but you felt better for talking to her, after saying your goodbyes you rounded the corner to your apartment block, you realised two things, you needed more friends your age, and you were going to meet Bucky Barnes tomorrow and of all the things you should think of him, all the preconceived notions you should have, all you could think about was him and how excited you felt about seeing him again.

Tag List :

@mizz-kraziii @bookluver01 @38leticia @emmapaisley18 @nyxveracity @acambridge @turdblossommm

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little-ball-of-fear · 7 years ago

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“What happens on backstage, stays on backstage and the rest is silence”

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides Human AU: Student!Anxiety, Student!Prince, Student!Morality, Teacher!Logic Pairing: Prinxiety, background Logicality Warnings: student-teacher relationship, mentioning about sex, swearing, “Romeo and Juliet” spoilers Prompt used: 42. "If I die I’m going to come back and haunt you.” 26. "Help me I’m stuck.” 3. “I’m going to kill you!” 23. "If we get caught I’m blaming you.”

Tagging @remmythepegasis and @akidathedisneyfan ‘cause I wrote it for them and I love them with my whole sad black emo heart <3

Virgil always thought school extracurricular activities stupid and tiring. Well, he was in school newspaper crew but that was different. He could write alone, in his own room and send the articles by e-mail to the Editor in Chief who he has never seen face to face. That was the perfect deal: extra points for his behaviour note, possibility to express himself by writing and no need to socialize.

Roman was totally different. He loved being surrounded by people, being in the centre of attention and to impress everybody. That’s why he loved theatre so much. He was in school drama club since the first day he discovered that it exist. He often asked Virgil for help with practicing his role and learning the text and Virgil always agreed even if he complained and gave ironic comments about it at first. This time wasn’t any difference.

“Remind me, please, why did I agree for this?” It was evening and the boys were walking along the empty corridors to the assembly hall so Roman could prepare himself for his Romeo role for next day. “Because you owe me a favour. Remember the incident with sock and pencil?” “Yes, I do, I was washing lasagne off my hair for a week!” Virg blushed, turned his face aside and growled “And we promise to never get back to that.” “You asked...”

They came on the backstage where all the decorations and the scenography were. Roman took two costumes in garment bags from the garment rack. He put one of them on his dressing table and handed the second one to Virgil.

“Put it on and get on the balcony.” “You’ve lost your fuckin’ mind.” it sounded more like a statement of fact than a question “I won’t wear dress! It’s you who have to “feel in the role” not me!” “You owe me a favor, don’t linger and put it on.” “I pay my debt with the fact that I sneak in here with you so you can prepare for your role.” “So let the dress be a payment for taking you off the tree when you were hiding from the postman.” “You broke my knife while doing it so it doesn’t count!” “So maybe for getting you out of the nettle after you were running away from the squirrel.” “Okay, I will put on that stupid dress… But I’m not getting on any fuckin’ balcony.” “I were lubricating your nettle burns with aloe!” “… Okay, I’ll get on the balcony.” Virgil unzipped his sweatshirt, noting in the memory to stop getting in trouble. “But just so you know: I hate you.”

After dressing up Virg stood under the fake balcony and swallowed hard. He looked at Roman with panic in his eyes, but boy just showed him two thumbs up with a grin on his face. He put his foot on the first ladder step, then on the second and third…

“You’re doing great, bro! Just go on and don’t look down or something.” “I swear if I fall down and die, I’m going to come back and haunt you and my ghost will trip you up.” “So… Don’t fall, I guess?” “Wow, thanks Captain Obvious, you saved the world again.” Virgil rolled his eyes finally standing on the balcony floor holding tight to the rail. “So what’s now?” „Open the script on page 14. We’ll start with the argue about promising. You’re first with that part about the night on your face.” „Oh gosh…” he cleared his throat and looked up with glossy eyes.

Virgil *with feminized high voice, gesticulating lively* Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny What I have spoke. But farewell compliment. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay', And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo: but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour light: But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware, My true-love passion: therefore pardon me; And not impute this yielding to light love Which the dark night hath so discovered. Fuck, I think I don’t get women. I didn’t understood any word from what I’ve just said. Roman *trying not to show that it made him laugh* Lady, by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops… Virgil *dramatically waving his hands* O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Roman What shall I swear by? Virgil Do not swear at all. Jesus Christ, girl, what you want?! Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. Ow yeah, ‘cause moon changes but people totally don’t! Roman *choking with laughter, trying to ignore Virgil’s comments* If my heart's dear love… Virgil Well, do not swear: Choose for once what the flying fuck do you want, bitch?! although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: You wanted it for Gerard Way’s sake! It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; You know each-other for one evening, how did you expect it to not be “too sudden”?! Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

Roman O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

Virgil Yes, you pervert! I’m only 14! Ekhem, I mean: What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

Roman Stop it you dirty-minded devil! *blushing while clearing his throat* The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

Virgil I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again.

Roman Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

Virgil But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, Despite the fact that sea totally have bounds, lol. My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. *waving softly to Roman, taking a few steps back “into the room”* Aaaaaaa! Fuck!

“Virg, what happened?” Roman run fast to the back of balcony to see the reason of his friend’s scream.

Virgil was hanging on the ladder, hooked on the hem of his dress. He was swaying his legs in the air, his face red from anger and shame. Roman got on his knees because of a sudden laugh attack.

“Don’t laugh at me, you idiot! Help me I’m stuck!” “I can see! That’s why I’m laughing!” He stood straight wiping laugh tears from his eyes and cheeks. “And don’t wiggle so much, you’ll tear up the dress.” “Is THAT your biggest problem right now?!” “My? Yes. But THIS will be your problem in a while” he took his phone out of the pocket and started taking some pictures. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! I swear I will kill you just when I get down!” “You’re not encouraging me to help you getting down, you know?” Roman showed him his tongue but put his phone back to the pocket and started stepping up the ladder. “Now don’t move or we both fall down.”

Virgil froze and just hung there pitifully mumbling threats and insults about Roman.

„You know what? I have a great view on your butt from here.” Roman finally got n the top of a ladder and reached out his hand like a photographer checking the perfect frame. “If you start taking photos of my pants I’ll sue you for molesting.” “Too late…” “ROMAN!” “Just joking, calm. Okay, I’ll stand here and you try to turn. Perf, now put your feet on it and try to push away. One more time, I have to catch you. Just give me your hand! Hand not leg, you idiot! Fine, I got you, now hold on me and I’ll try to unhook you. And now jump up. Don’t grumble, just jump!”

After a few minutes they both lie down on the balcony floor breathing heavily.

„I swear on my love to FOB that this is the last time I’m helping you with practicing!” Virgil’s eyes were throwing lightings at the other boy. „I don’t think so.” He waved his phone before Virg’s face showing him a galery full of „poor stuck Juliet” „And now you owe me for ta king you off that ladder.” “I got on that ladder for you!” he jumped at him trying to get the phone back “Gosh, I hate you!” “But my Juliet, your words are hurting my heart!” “My leg will hurt your butt if you don’t delete those fuckin’ photos!” “Okay, okay…” Roman held Virgil’s wrists with one hand and with the other he started deleting photos. “See? They’re gone. But can I leave this one maybe?” „In your dreams! Just so you can blackmail me till the rest of my life to make me dress in drag for you and tell you stupid love promises that I can’t decide if I want or not?” “Ummm... No? I just like your ass.” „Why the Hell are you so focused on my ass?!” Virg’s face turned red. “I’m not but if you want me to, it will be my pleasure.” He was responded with asking look. „Ugh, I’m trying to subtly tell you that I fanc… Wait, did you hear that?”

Roman crawled to the edge of balcony. For a moment he didn’t move and then he called Virgil with a gesture. His eyes were wide and round and his mouth were open but still smiling. Down there on the backstage two characters were kissing in the dusk.

“Is that... Professor Logan?” Virgil was afraid that the crash of his jaw falling on the floor will be heard so, just in case, he covered his mouth with hand. “You better look who’s with him...” “No... No, that can’t be…”

“Patton, please, we can’t meet each-other at school...” Teacher’s voice was muffled with kisses from which he wasn’t defying too well. “But you barely leave this school. And I miss you...” The boy didn’t give up. „I’m begging you…” „Well, usually you prefer me to beg but as you wish…” Logan rolled his eyes and, even if the boys on the balcony weren’t able to see it, he bit his lip. “You’re unbearable...” He kissed him deeply “If we get caught I’m blaming you. I’ll say that you lured me here and tried to seduce me.” “Fair enough, maybe then I’ll be kicked out of school and we’ll be able to date normally.” “You’re unbelievable!” “I’m in love~”

Forbidden lover started making out and Virgil turned his face to Roman who was staring at him with inscrutable expression. He wanted to say something but the other boy shook his head and showed him his phone turning it to the “mute” mode. Virgil nodded and did the same thing. Now they were talking on Watsapp.

Emo: What the fuck is going on here?!?!?! Princey: Dunno but it’s kinda cute tbh Emo: It turns you on? Princey: I said cute not hot you pervert Emo: Whatever Emo: So what we gonna do now? Just sit here and look at them making out? Princey: And what do u want to do? Go down and say hello? Emo: We’re here cuz of your stupid idea so it’s YOU who will get us out of that trouble. Princey: We can always follow their actions Emo: … Emo: wut

Virgil looked at Roman as at an idiot and psycho at once.

Princey: I just told you that I fancy you. Emo: WHEN?!?!?!/11? Princey: Ow yeah. They interrupted me. Princey: So I will say it now. Princey: I fancy you. Princey: For a long time. Princey: Since junior high. Princey: And that’s our last year so I thought I should tell you. Emo: … Princey: Virg? Princey: Say sth Princey: I meant write Princey: ANYTHING Emo: … Princey: Why r u looking at me like that? Princey: I’m sorry Princey: Don’t be mad! Princey: Write sth for fox’s sake! Princey: Virg! Princey: I’m starting to woriqo’q22u72qwlansd234398

Roman’s phone fell on the floor when Virgil fast moved closer to kiss him. He hugged him (as much as it was possible in their position on the balcony floor) and kiss with such passion as if he was trying to compensate him all those years when he was blind. Blind for Roman’s efforts, signals, little gestures, suggestions and feelings. But in that long slow kiss he also wanted to compensate himself every day of hiding his real feelings behind his friend because of fear it will ruin their relation.

They were cuddling and kissing, not caring about the time. Then they started texting again, confessing everything they couldn’t say out loud. They were trying to ignore awkward moans and muffed screams from backstage. But when the lovers finished and started dressing up and boys were totally sure that nobody will ever know they were on the backstage that evening...

“That’s not my shirt.” Patton looked at the fabric in teacher’s hand. “My neither…” Logan looked around and spotted a small pile of clothes in the corner on the floor. “Fuck…” He picked them up, looked at them closer and looked around the backstage again. Boys swallowed hard in panic. “All right, Roman, wherever you are, get out and come here. I don’t want to play hide and seek with you.” “Why do you know it’s mine, sir?” Boy leaned over the rail before Virgil could stop him. “Because you are the only person in this school who could have “My favorite Disney Prince is Me” T-shirt.” Virgil couldn’t help but smirk “And now get down. You and your Juliet.

Feeling awkward as fuck, two couples faced each-other. All abashed and blushed. Virgil even forgot that he was still wearing a dress.

“Okaaay…” the teacher cleared his throat, tips of his fingers together like it was another lesson when he has to explain them something for fifteenth time. “Can we establish that non of us was here tonight? If you promise to keep that what… Happened between me and Patton for yourselves, I promise to not tell the headmaster about you two sneaking onto the backstage without permission and to not start a rumor about that Virgil likes to wear dresses. Does that sound fair for you?”

“Definitely.” Boys nodded and breathe a sigh of relief. “Perfect. Now get out and I don’t want to see you until tomorrow’s test.” “Test? Really? Can we maybe ad to our little deal releasing us of writing the test?” “Roman, are you trying to blackmail me?” “You prefer me to beg?” “OUT!” teacher covered his red face with hand and pointed at the door. The rest, including Patton, burst into laugh. “Don’t be mad…” Patton kissed his cheek when Virgil and Roman disappeared behind the door. “And you…” Logan turned to him with scowling “You are going to write for tomorrow a thousand time ‘I won’t seduce my math teacher in public, even if I know he likes that and he’s not defying.’ ”

#prinxiety #Prince Sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #virgil sanders #logicality #logan sanders #Logic sanders #patton sanders #Morality sanders #romeo and juliet #fanfic #fanfiction #I suck at writing

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top6list · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on Top 6 Lists

New Post has been published on https://www.top6.com/dji-mavic-pro-review/

DJI Mavic Pro review

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Design

Having flown drones from the Phantom range extensively, I’d considered them to be impressively compact and lightweight for their capabilities – but the Mavic Pro is in a whole different league when it comes to portability.

When the postman delivered the box to my house I thought there’d been some mistake – surely this package, smaller than a shoebox, couldn’t contain a £1,000-plus quadcopter, a controller, and a battery charger? But it did because the Mavic is shockingly tiny compared to its Phantom cousins – about one-sixth of the size when folded.

My immediate concern was that its small size would detract from its in-air stability and/or its image quality. But even with that niggling in the back of mind I couldn’t help but be impressed by how neatly the drone and its controller folded down. This is the first 4K drone I’ve seen that feels like it could genuinely be carried all day without any thought. The Phantoms require being lugged around in special, bulky backpacks or cases, but the Mavic Pro will happily fit in the smallest of bags.

It’s solidly built too, with the majority of the quadcopter being constructed from tough plastic – handy to know, given that anyone who buys a drone is likely to have at least one or two slight aerial mishaps during their ownership. The gimbal-mounted camera feels more delicate, but DJI supplies a clear plastic cage that protects it from harm while you’re carrying it around.

Features

The camera is small but fairly powerful on paper: its 1/2.3-inch sensor can capture 12MP stills in JPEG or DNG RAW format, as well as video at a variety of resolutions and frame rates: 4K at 30fps or 1080p at up to 96fps.

It’s mounted on a tiny motorized gimbal that, in combination with the drone’s suite of sensors, is able to make near-instant adjustments to keep itself level at all times. You can also set it to a POV mode, which tilts and turns it along with the drone.

There are four other cameras on board, but these aren’t for photography; they’re to aid in-flight stability and safety. Two downward-facing cameras help keep the drone from drifting around indoors or in areas of poor GPS coverage (usually, GPS data is used to maintain position), while another pair faces frontwards, detecting obstacles in a forward arc and preventing the drone from hitting them. It’ll stop moving if it comes within a few feet of anything solid, but only when it’s in front – the obstacle detection won’t prevent a crash if the Mavic moves backward or sideways into a tree, lamppost or neighbour’s window. So beware.

Then there’s the tiny controller, which unfolds to accommodate an Apple or Android smartphone in its grip – the phone plugs into the controller with a short cable, and the controller automatically connects to the Mavic via Wi-Fi or RC. This way, you can view the drone camera’s live feed (in smooth-running, crisp 1080p) and change settings via the DJI Go app on your phone’s screen while keeping the physical flight controls within reach.

It has a long transmission range, too – DJI says up to 4.3 miles, depending on obstacles and other interference. I haven’t attempted to test that out, as flying a drone beyond visual range would be breaking UK law.

If you want to use a tablet or a phone too large to fit within the grip, there’s a full-size USB port on the bottom of the controller. Plug your device into there and it’ll work much the same as a phone – albeit much more awkwardly, as you’ll need to prop the screen somewhere while also holding the controller.

Gallery

Video

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Our score

Where to buy

Do you want a tiny flying camera that doesn’t compromise on battery life, flying agility and image quality, all the while maintaining a relatively affordable price tag? If so, the Mavic Pro is the best choice right now.

DJI has outdone itself with this dinky drone, which brings together the best attributes of the Phantom range while adding more features and massively boosting the portability. It’s a soaring success.

If you’re not after something quite so advanced, the dinky DJI Spark is worth considering, but for our money, we think it’s worth stretching for the DJI Mavic Pro if you can owing to superior video and battery life.

Where to Buy

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Price History

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