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meloncubedradpops · 4 years ago

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Repo! The Corona Opera

For every rotation that Earth has completed around the sun since the dawn of humanity, humans have created art to cope with the realities surrounding our everyday life. We weave stories in songs, movies, plays, books, paintings, and so forth, that help digest the world around us and provide an entertaining escape from the cruelties we endure. Some stories take place in abstract universes or in the future, and we rely on what we know in our present reality to build upon these fantasy societies. My favorite movie, Repo! the Genetic Opera, certainly makes this list. We are currently experiencing perhaps the most surreal year of our collective lives, and with each passing day I argue that we find ourselves closer to the world crafted in Repo. I have seen this movie, at least 20 times. If you haven't watched Repo! the Genetic Opera or you haven't seen it in a while, I recommend giving it a view. The movie is unique in that it falls under three distinct genres: musical, horror, and sci-fi. And while the jury is out on whether our future society is going to go full on gothic aesthetic, I can say that the Repo! movie experience offers a glimpse into a dystopian fascist post-plague world wrapped in unapologetically hilarity with a heaping side of camp. It doesn't offer any spiritual cleansing that our souls collectively need, but it does show us what a new normal could look like if we really go off the rails.

As things stand, right now, so much of our daily lives and culture are impacted by the coronavirus. All of our institutions have been impacted, from school, to work, to family, to the way we interact with strangers, and especially our economy. We have all felt the effects in one way or another, and honestly? Most the impacts are of our own undoing, for better or for worse. I am going to write three pieces analyzing Repo! the Genetic Opera. First I will create the foundations that bridge our contemporary life and the world of Repo! Second I will explain how the Repo! universe operates under the definitions of fascism. And third I will weave together parts one and two into our contemporary world (particularly in the context of the United States) to highlight the dark path we heading towards. My viewpoints are of mine, and my own alone. Let's dive into part one.

Part I Repo! the Genetic Opera takes place in the year 2056. Humanity was on the brink of collapse as a result of a medical crisis that caused massive organ failure.

I never gave the premise much thought, at least not until recently. We aren't given much detail beyond the fact that entrepreneur Rottissimo "Rotti" Largo solved this crisis through his company GeneCo. GeneCo provides organ transplants that can be repaid through a payment plan. Witnessing the coronavirus unfold in real time and seeing its wrath, particularly on severe cases, honestly makes me wonder if the writers had some sort of "super plague" in mind when creating this universe. For the purpose of this analysis, I will assume that humanity suffered at least one infectious disease crisis. And just to reiterate covid-19 particularly, we really *don't* know what it's going to do to us long-term. Let the parallels begin.

The world in Repo! the Genetic Opera, operates as normally as the citizens possibly can, which appears to be quite limited. I have noted how dated some the technologies look.

For a world 30 years in the future, it lacks cell phones and easy access to internet. When we enter Shilo's world (aka her bedroom!) she watched Blind Mag sing on a busted up tiny ass TV and the program itself looks like an ad on Home Shopping Network.

The Graverobber is shown reading headlines on a newspaper. The news reporters shown in the ribbon cutting ceremony during the 1st Italian Post-Plague Renaissance have old school cameras with flashbulbs.

The most contemporary technology appears to be a Wish.com version of an Apple watch, and even that looks like a leftover prop from Spy Kids.

Obviously the people who made this movie intentionally inserted these anachronisms, but why? This is a science fiction movie after all. I speculate that they reverted back because the impact from humanity's crisis resulted in an overall professional "brain drain" from the sheer volume of professionals that dropped dead. In fact every scene depicting medical procedures looks dimly lit and lacking in sanitation. We will see this as we struggle to contain the coronavirus, at least in America. Healthcare workers have already died from this thing, and I am sure many prospective college students will have second thoughts about a career in healthcare. I mean hell, look at no other than GeneCo itself. That company employs workers called "Genterns" who are most definitely not in full PPE. I don't doubt their medical expertise, but they appear to be disposable (please see: that time Luigi killed one for NO REASON in "Mark it Up").

On that note, it really was quite incredible how China built the pop-up hospital in Wuhan in under 4 days, but it was also not the most safe or structurally sound building by far (it collapsed, people were hurt!). Maybe at this point, the people in Repo! don't have much of a choice. I am sure there were likely legit hospitals, but the fact that the Renaissance had gross surgery tents is a bit unsettling.

This is a world that is completely built upon the social more of valuing your health above all else. There had to be a turning point in the GeneCo business model where they really played on up-selling organs for the benefit of "genetic perfection". "I needed a kidney transplant desperately. GeneCo showed this single mom sympathy. This makeover came for a small added fee. Now I look smashing on live TV!" Imagine signing the documents for your power of attorney while actively going into renal failure, when your doctor chimes in with an up-sell for breast implants. When all is said an done, your body is now not only functioning again, but you're hot! Even in a post-plague dystopia we are still holding value to having a nice rack. What's not to love about GeneCo? Obviously we know right away that GeneCo has a dirty side. Rotti Largo personally lobbied to make organ repossessions legal, and he does not hesitate to recollect his property. The concept itself is, of course, wild. In America, our healthcare system is incredibly broken and expensive. You would wonder how it could get worse without us backpedaling many steps on the industrialization timeline. And in a lot of ways, I could see a company like GeneCo thrive here. We already hate the poor, and we have political think tanks that salivate over the idea of cutting social programs that keep people alive. Our president has wanted to repeal the Affordable Care Act while many people are unemployed during a pandemic. In Repo! we hear about those who don't pay, but obviously there are plenty of people who do. Those who can will happily pay, either for vanity reasons or to stay alive.

And while society cites Rotti as being a "hero" for humanity, we see more and more evidence that the crisis is both not under control and life is cheap.

His son murders multiple people, in front of others, with seemingly no repercussions. In the scene where Shilo meets the Graverobber for the first time, adjacent to the graveyard and tombs owned by wealthy families who could afford grave markers, lies a poorly constructed wall hiding thousands of corpses piled on top of one another. We even get a glimpse of a truckload pouring more onto the pile. I would not be surprised if there is a disinformation campaign there keeping the public in the dark (although you'd think the smell would be unbearable at this point).

There are multiple indications that propaganda works in society (still), and no one is getting the full picture of how much of a raw deal the people in Repo! have. We see poster after poster about GeneCo, in the literal absence of other corporations.

And a lot of them bear resemblance to 20th century Russian propaganda. It would be a real shame if the goals outlined The Foundations of Geopolitics: The Geopolitical Future of Russia were actually realized. Imagine going to visit your mother's grave and hearing commercials for hardcore analgesics play through the cemetery. Also, there's a police presence too. Apparently the police are called Genecops and have authority to execute any assumed graverobbers on site.

Imagine the hellscape it would be to live in a world where your loved ones may have died from a terrible pandemic, and you face a non-zero chance of an over zealous cop murdering you thereafter, and because their qualified immunity bypasses the judicial system entirely...oh wait. Anyways let's circle back to the Graverobber character.

Graverobber's role in Repo! appears to be minor on the surface. Rotti's daughter, Amber Sweet, appears to almost despise her relationship with him. And that relationship involves him supplying Amber with what he describes as the "21st Century cure". This cure you ask? A super effective painkiller with the clinical use to accompany GeneCo surgeries. This drug is called Zydrate, and it has a street version that he acquires and sells, with clients including Amber Sweet.

Graverobber makes his living sucking the glowy blue brain corpse goo and injecting them into people on the streets. Yum!

Not everyone who needs an organ transplant can pay for it all upfront. Luckily for them, GeneCo provides payment plan options! The caveat to this is if you fail to make those payments, legally GeneCo can come and repossess your newly acquired organs. If you find yourself past due, you will soon see the last face before your doom, the Repo Man. He will harvest GeneCo's property, and it won't matter where you are or what you are doing. There is no anesthetic, and you will likely die! This was all made legal through Rotti's lobbying efforts.

Society, as it's set up today, allows for property repossessions. This can be as straightforward as a repossession of your vehicle to as heartbreaking as a foreclosure on your home. At the end of the day, the impacts of that are difficult and life changing. Currently millions of people in America are out of work, and the threat of losing everything is at stake for many. We could lose our homes, our vehicles, and our sense of purpose. And while many government bodies have created temporary moratoriums, they have not provided any substantial financial relief to keep the proverbial repo man at bay. What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment? Fascism! Ah yes, the dreaded f-word. In my next essay, I will outline the 14 characteristics of fascism and how it relates to the universe in Repo! After I will relate that to our modern world so that we can try and stop this from becoming our reality.

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Rumor Has It {10}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Slight embellishment of actual real-world media

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What’s not to like about photoshoots? Nothing really. You get to wear designer clothes, get your make up done and get pretty pictures taken. Sounds great. Unless you’ve been doing it for almost ten hours. That was your predicament. You’d been shooting pictures for your album cover for the better part of a day and there was no end in sight. You’d tried to keep your energy up, tried to remain in the zone but it was harder than it looked. You were quickly descending into the land of grumpy. All you wanted was your bed a bottle of wine and one of Chris’ shirts.

“All right Uriah, that’s it. A few more shots and I think we’ll be good,” Boris shouted from behind the camera as he continued to snap away. Using that as some solace you held tightly to your resolve and pressed on.

Twenty minutes turned to forty and forty turned to two hours. After three and a half hours Boris finally called wrap. You were exhausted. You sat down with the crew and went through the three hundred plus images hoping to mark your favorites and eliminate those that just didn’t go well. The final decision was going to be left up to you and the record company, but you knew how to make your voice be the final one. You, after all, were the talent. You’d gotten far enough in your career that you held plenty of weight.

You didn’t get to crawl into bed with one of Chris’ shirts and a bottle of wine until near three in the morning. Taking comfort in his scent and the alcohol your unwind was easy. Once the bottle was finished you found yourself nodding off until Chris called. Once you saw his face, you lit up.

“You look tired.” Scoffing you nodded.

“I’m exhausted. Yet another photoshoot for the album. Hopefully, we finally have the album cover art.”

“Okay, that’s great. Are you happy with them?”

“They’re fine. I’m happier to be done with it. How are you?”

“Good, finally getting in.” You watched him set his phone down and peel his shirt off in the frame. Sighing you sunk deeper into the covers and watched the show. It was like he didn’t realize what he was doing. After he’d discarded his shirt his pants followed until he was only in his underwear. You laid there and admired your husband. You’d never get tired of this view.

“It is a shame to be so damn fine.” As if realizing what he’d done he snorted and laughed then took up his phone and carried you with him to another room.

“Me? Have you looked in the mirror lately Mrs. Evans?” You smiled then sighed.

“Is that my shirt?”

“I miss you,” you defended. His groan was long. You heard the rustling of sheets and once the motion of the camera stopped there he was laying in the bed with a sweet smirk on his face.

“I miss you too, dragonfly.” You changed your position in the bed not caring that now his shirt had risen up to your hip exposing your bare thigh to him. You watched as his eyes raked over your skin then back to your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking, after the premier and the hoopla we should take a vacation. You, me, no phones, or work, just us,” Chris proposed. It sounded blissful.

“My god that sounds so good. I think we’ve earned it.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.” The two of you laid there not saying a word just staring at each other. Your connection felt stronger than ever. Therapy had done what it was supposed to. You guys were better than ever. In fact, you were so much better you’d completed your last session with Dr. Danquah feeling incredibly optimistic and pleased with how successfully you’d been.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep with each other still on the call with one thought to fall asleep to. Life was good.

-Two Days Later-

“Sounds like a plan,” Zora responded once you’d finished going over your plan for the next three months.

You and Chris had made such great progress in therapy that you felt more hopeful about the probability of your marriage surviving and not just surviving but thriving and becoming better than it ever had been. You’d both learned so much and every day the two of you were diligently working to put what you learned into play. He made a conscious effort to make you feel listened to and not just heard. You made an effort to give him the benefit of the doubt more times than not. Now after successful completion of near nine weeks of therapy, you both felt closer to each other. The love you felt for him had grown when you didn’t think it was possible to love him more.

The rest of your team left your office and it left you, Zora and Kizzy. Zora perched on your desk and watched you sign off on the rest of the contracts that needed to be couriered out. The next three months were setting up to be busy. You’d taken all the time you could and so had Chris. He was now in Los Angeles for meetings and interviews. It was his time to actually be present for the press centered on Knives out especially with it opening in a week.

“How’s Chris doing in LA? This is the first time in weeks you two have been apart.” You nodded at Zora’s inquiry.

She was right. You’d gotten so comfortable having him so close. You’d created a routine that you fell in love with, a routine that you now missed. It had been a week since he’d been gone, and you felt his absence to your core.

“He’s doing good. He says he’s trying to acclimate back into press touring and being away but it’s hard.”

“Uugh, you two are so stinking cute I can’t deal,” Kizzy groaned out. you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m glad you guys are doing better and found a way back to each other,” Zora added.

You stood and handed her the folder. Once she took them and she nodded and got to work on her laptop scanning them for your records. The next step was sending a copy to your lawyers before sending them back.

Your phone rang loudly in your home office. When you looked at the screen you saw your mother’s name pop up.

“Hi, mama.”

“Uriah, who the hell is this white woman?”

“Uh—what white woman, mama?” Kizzy and Zora both looked amused, they knew your mother’s antics and the way she spoke. They often got a good laugh from it.

“This woman I’m seeing on The Wendy Williams show.”

Your confusion took over. You sighed then groaned. “Mama, I don’t have time to walk you through the who is who of the celebrity world. Try googling her.”

“Uriah Letecia Tyler-Evans. You better know who this woman is. From the things I’m hearing from Wendy, you should have her as top priority on your to-do list. By to do list I mean beat down list.”

Kizzy was the one to snort loudly. You gave her a look that had her clamping her hand over her mouth in an effort to stop any others from escaping.

“Mama, what are you talking about?”

“Turn on The Wendy Williams show now!” Zora approached with the remote and turned the tv on then proceeded to find the right channel. Once Wendy’s face filled the screen the volume increased. You were just in time to hear the audible gasp and “ooh” from the audience.

“Okay mama Wendy is on. What is so important?”

“Wait for it and listen,” your mother instructed.

“So, I don’t know what kind of marriage they have but if this were my marriage, and I know what you’re going to say my marriage fell apart from the same thing—an easy, trifling’ homewrecking whore.” Again, the audience gasped and “oohed”.

“Yeah I know, if you live in a glass house you shouldn’t throw stones but look y��all. In no world is this okay.” A video played of Ana wearing the sweater Chris wore in character in Knives Out. It was evident she had on nothing else but the sweater. She danced around while giving her best sexy eyes to the camera. You didn’t hear a thing else, not from Wendy or the audience, or even the music that was playing on the video. The video stopped and flipped to a picture of her posing in the sweater. You zeroed in on the caption.

“That was weird, anyway what I wanted to say is go see knives out. Also, thanks Chris for the sweater. I think it looks better on me this way, but you can feel free to come and take it and prove me wrong.”

As if you were a bull in the pen you saw red.

“This bitch!” Yours, Kizzy’s and Zora’s voice all merged into one as the three of you said the same thing, at the same time the same exact way. You looked at them and the looks on their faces made you wonder if you looked the same way. Pissed.

“First of all, this is all levels of inappropriate. I may be jaded and reading into things too much but ol’ girl didn’t have to put his sweater on with nothing else on. She posted this for a reason besides promo for their movie. Second, this is a thirst trap if I’ve ever seen one, now it’s not as extreme as others but a low-level thirst trap is still a thirst trap. This is a thirst trap of testing the waters. This is definitely flirtatious. Also, the caption, girl.” Wendy’s face said it all.

“Girl you know you not slick. This is disrespectful on all levels to this man’s real wife Uriah Evans. Again, I don’t know what kind of marriage they have but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen some suspect behavior from this woman toward Chris Evans. I get it he’s hot, he is a fine piece of white chocolate. The draw of a married man is appealing it’s like a competition but girl no. This man has a whole wife. Back off.”

The audience clapped and cheered.

“Do you see now Uriah. Now, who is this woman? You better tell me this isn’t the same trollop that tested your marriage a few months ago.”

“Mama I’ll call you back.” You hung up and prepared to dial Chris but before pressing the green call button you paused and thought about what you were about to do and what you were about to say. Every instinct in your body was saying blow up and rain hellfire on him, but thanks to the last months of work in therapy, part of you hesitated.

“Fuck!” You hit the desk and took several deep breaths. “This bitch really is grinding my last fucking nerve!”

“For good fucking reason. What the hell is that? Did Chris really send that to her?”

You had no idea. He very well could have. Again, you stopped and thought about things. He wouldn’t dare, not after everything you’d been through these last months, not after everything you came so close to losing. Still, there she was wearing the sweater. You looked back to the paused tv and examined the freeze frame of the picture. She looked so damn pleased with herself. Before you could fester anymore anger your phone rang again. This time it was Chris.

“Give me a minute, guys.” Kizzy and Zora walked out giving you a little privacy before you answered your phone.

“Hey, baby. I miss you,” Chris said with a smile on his face. You took another deep breath and tried to push away any ill will.

“I miss you too.”

“Are you okay?” He was walking around making you dizzy. When he finally stopped he sat down in perfect lighting.

“Yeah, I’m good. How are you? What’re you doing?”

“I just finished up wardrobe here in San Diego, getting ready to do yet another interview.” He leaned back and sighed.

“Okay, cool.” You couldn’t find anything else to say. You didn’t want to blow up at him or even ask him because you didn’t want to give him the impression you didn’t trust him. You understood now, you trusted him you just didn’t trust her.

“Are you all set to come out? I can’t wait to see you.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be on a flight day after tomorrow. I’m just finishing up some loose ends.” His smile was bright, and a glimmer caught your eye.

Squinting your eyes, you locked in on it then looked back to the tv at her background. Your eyes went back and forth for several moments before you felt the pit of your stomach fall. The backgrounds were one hundred percent identical. Her picture and video were taken from his room.

~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans x uriah

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softspiderling · 5 years ago

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things you left unsaid | t.h.

anonymous said: Hi! I wanted to ask if you cud write about being friends with tom but you develop feeling for him.

anonymous said: 1.) things you said at 1 am from the the things you said prompt list With Tom x reader please (:

→ 1. Things you said at 1 am from this prompt list

Summary: having casual sex with Tom despite having feelings for him? What could go wrong?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Umbrella by Rihanna

Author’s Note: I hope you don’t mind that I kind of mushed these two requests together. I didn’t mean for it to happen. IDK why but I really really liked writing this. I hope you like reading it just as much! Leave a comment/ask to let me know what you think ;)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, some smut if you squint

Word Count: 3,7k

Masterlist

gif is not mine!

You kicked your feet up on the dashboard as the landscape flew past you in the car, the sun warming against your skin and the sky an amazing shade of blue. The day honestly could not get any better.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing our road trip. I feel like we’ve been planning this since we’ve met in kindergarten,” you told your best friend Katie.

“I know right? It’s a miracle that we both found the time to take this trip,” she said, pushing her shades higher on her nose. “You want to make some music?”

“Yeah sure,” you hummed, sitting up straight to connect the cord to your phone, Rihanna’s voice booming into the car.

“When sun shines we shine together, told you I’d be here forever, said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, imma stick it out till the end.”

“Hey can you turn it down a bit? It’s really loud,” Katie asked and you nodded, turning the volume down. But instead of getting quieter, the music got louder and you had to cover up your ears.

“Umbrella, ella ella, eh eh eh. Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh eh eh eh eeh.“

“Oh my god,” you groaned, when you turned in your bed, smashing your face into the pillow. You just had the greatest dream and some jerk woke you up from it because he had to call you in the middle of the night.

When the song finally stopped playing, you sighed in relief, getting comfortable and trying to fall back asleep. But an incoming notification lit up your phone screen with a loud ‘PING’ and then the song started again.

“When the sun shines we shine together, told you I’d be here forev-“

“Oh my god, WHAT?” you snapped as soon as you picked up the phone.

“Y/N?” a slightly slurred voice spoke.

“What do you want Tom?” you asked annoyed, immediately recognizing his voice despite the loud music in the background (and of course knowing that Umbrella was his ringtone). “It’s half past twelve am. You know I have to work tomorrow.”

“I’m at the club right now and Matthew ditched me,” Tom yelled into the phone, stumbling over his words.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

“Can you please come pick me up?”

“Are you serious right now?”

You pinched your nose, starting to get annoyed, though if this had happened a year ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to go pick him up. But last summer the dynamic of your friendship had shifted quite a bit.

Your feet laid in Tom’s lap while you were snacking on some candy he had brought from his last visit in the states. You were watching How I met your mother while Tom was dicking around on his phone.

You popped in another piece of Reese’s in your mouth, while Ted and Robin were all over each other because of a carton of milk, when you felt Tom nudging your feet.

“Do you really think people can have sex without feelings attached?” he asked and you raised an eyebrow at him. You hadn’t even thought he was watching with you, since all his attention was directed at his phone. Or so you thought.

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, turning back to the tv. “I mean, obviously I never have done it. All examples I’ve seen are from movies or tv shows and it never ends well, so.”

“But they’re movies and tv shows. Most of things that happens on screen is not real,” he pointed out and you narrowed your eyes at him, watching him closely.

He was fidgety, and actively not looking at you. Something was up.

“Yeah, things like you fighting Ant-Man. That’s not real. But sex without feelings attached not working out seems real to me,” you said and poked his cheek with your finger.

“Where’s this coming from?”

He shrugged, his cheeks pink. “Ihaven’thadsexinhalfayearandIreallyneedsome.”

You put a hand behind your ear.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which made it even messier. You had spent the whole time on your couch since Tom came to your place, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t doing anything before he came over. But you didn’t mind, he looked pretty cute with his hair sticking in every direction.

Not that you would ever tell him that. You were sure you weren’t supposed to think that way about a friend.

“I haven’t gotten laid in six months,” he admitted and your eyes widened slightly, before you realized you weren’t actually that surprised. He’s been busy for the past few months and hadn’t gotten the time to date anyone. Plus you knew he didn’t like sleeping around, especially not now that he’s famous. So, he was on a dry spell. Big deal.

“And you’re telling me this, because…?”

“Because I knew you haven’t had sex in a few months either,” Tom replied and you flushed, glaring at him.

“That’s not true!” you protested weakly. It was very much true. Between work and trying to balance your social life with your family and friends, there just hasn’t been anytime for your love life. Or sex, for that matter.

“You shave your legs for one-night stands,” he pointed out, running his hand over your prickly legs. “And you broke up with that Josh before Christmas, so.”

Slapping his hand away, you pulled your feet from his lap, tucking them underneath you as you sat up on the couch with a frown, mad at Tom for noticing the small stuff, but at the same time, you’re kind of touched.

“Fine. Whatever,” you muttered. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re bringing this topic up.”

“I guess I was just thinking if that friends with benefits thing could work. You know. Between us.”

“Come again?” you asked, not believing what you just heard. Did Tom really just suggest for you guys to have sex? Platonically?

“I mean, I was just thinking it could work,” Tom argued and you stared at him, before reaching out to feel his forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asked, swatting your hand away.

“Just checking if you’re feverish, because you’re being delusional.” You said and he gave you a look. “What? You know this is highly out of character for you, right? I mean, friends with benefits? Really? Since when are you into meaningless sex?”

Tom reached out to take your hands in his. “That’s the thing, though. It wouldn’t be meaningless with you. You’re one of my best friends.”

You eyed your clasped hands wearily. You know you probably shouldn’t agree to this, especially not with the budding feelings you could feel coming.

“But why me?”

“Because I think you’re hot,” Tom blurted out, his cheeks flushing and your eyebrows rose, almost disappearing into your hairline.

“You think I am hot?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re fit, Y/N,” he said and you huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“And why would I want to have sex with you?” you asked, deflecting. You knew this was not going to end well.

He gave you a look. “Because you haven’t had sex in a while and you think I’m hot.”

You scoffed and pushed his chest. “Please. I don’t think you’re hot.”

“I’ve seen you stare at my chest when you think I’m not looking,” he pointed out and you snorted, shaking your head vigorously.

“You’ve got a really big head, T. I don’t stare at your chest, or at you, for that matter.”

Tom sighed and reached behind his back, pulling his shirt off with one swift motion.

“W-what are you doing?” you stuttered as he sat shirtless across of you. You kept your eyes on his, but couldn’t help one quick glance towards his bare chest. Oh who were you even kidding? He was stupid hot.

“Fine,” you growled. “I think you’re hot. But do you really think this is a good idea, though?”

“A great idea, actually,” He said, nodding. “I’m away a lot, so there won’t even be any time for it to become awkward or for one of us to get feelings.”

But what if there already are feelings?

“And if one of us starts dating someone or it starts affecting our friendship, we stop. Easy-peasy,” Tom stated and you pursed your lips, still unconvinced.

“I don’t know Tom…”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to tug you closer, his breath fanning across your cheeks.

You gulped in a breath, your eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. You were torn.

“I know you want this,” Tom mumbled, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, stroking, no, caressing the skin of your waist gently. It was weird how he could change from jumpy and nervous to smooth, and seductive in a span of seconds.

“If it affects our friendship, we stop?” you asked and a smile spread on his face.

“We stop. Easy-peasy.”

“Easy-peasy,” you mumbled and leaned in, your lips touching his in a kiss that would be followed by many more.

And honestly, it’s all been downhill ever since.

While it was true, that Tom was away a lot for work, he still found the time to come over just to hang out with you or have sex.

You’ve never noticed how much time you actually spent with him until you started having sex almost every time you guys hung out. Another thing you had sworn to each other was to never tell anyone about this, knowing your friends would judge you.

You’ve already denied numerous allegations from Harry and Sam, asking if there was anything going on between you and their older brother. And you always told them off, god forbid a girl was only friends with a guy without anything else going on. It usually shut them right up and sometimes you felt bad, because they were right after all. But you never ever going to tell anyone about this.

Especially because you were friends with the twins long before you were introduced to Tom. You used to be in the same class as the twins and since Tom went to Brit school, you didn’t even know him until you started hanging out at the Holland’s home.

You were fifteen and he was 18 when you first met him, and despite your age difference, he soon became a big part of your life and continued to do so, even after his career skyrocketed after his first appearance as Peter Parker in Civil War. You even had a feeling that his part in your life became bigger when he got more famous, because your friendship kept him grounded, just as much as his family or his best friend Harrison did.

Harrison, from whom Tom had to keep quiet about this, because he had promised you, and you knew it was hard for him because those boys shared everything about their lives with each other. But you (literally) had him by the balls when you made him swear to keep his mouth shut.

But now you really wished you’d told someone, because this was killing you and you really needed advice. What did it mean when he was stroking through your hair gently with his one hand, while the other rubbed small circles on your skin, just mere minutes after he’s fucked you roughly on the couch? Friends usually didn’t do that, right?

Even though you knew that you were supposed to end this- whatever this was, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Even worse, you found yourself longing for more, catching yourself glaring at his back when pretty girls chatted him up at a crowded bar, even though you had no right to feel any jealousy, because he wasn’t yours.

You knew that. Your brain knew that. The only one that was apparently out of the loop was your treacherous heart.

The same treacherous heart that skipped a beat after hearing Tom add a quiet: “I miss you.”

Guilt gnawed on your conscience.

Lately you’ve been avoiding him, pushing him away because you were a coward, too scared to face your feelings.

But it wasn’t fair to Tom.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?” you said, throwing your blanket off. “And drink lots of water.”

Fifteen minutes later, you pulled up in front of the newest club in town and you could hear the loud music, even with your windows closed. Seeing a crowd close to the entrance of the club, you wondered if Tom was in the center of it but as the crowd dispersed, you couldn’t catch his face. Roaming your gaze in your surroundings, you were surprised to see that Tom was standing at the far end of the building, leaning against the wall, his face only illuminated by his phone.

He hasn’t spotted you yet and it gave you the chance to watch him for a bit.

Tom’s hair was styled once, you could see that, but by now it was slightly mussed, as if he’d run his hand through it too many times. The sleeves of his white shirt strained against his bicep and the hem of it was tucked slightly in his black pants which, in turn, were tucked neatly into his boots. He was swaying slightly, even though he was standing, told you, that he’d done some tequila shots, a small wedge of lime stuck to his forearm confirming your theory.

Dumbass wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

With a sigh, you grabbed his denim jacket, which he had borrowed you that one time you forgot your own and got out of the car, heading towards him.

“Are you trying to get ill?” you asked and he squinted his eyes at you when he looked up, before his face broke out in a smile.

Thump.

Your heartbeat quickened at the sight of his smile.

“’m not cold,” Tom insisted and you rolled your eyes at him, reaching out to flick the lime wedge off his arm, handing him his jacket.

He quickly shrugged it on and wrapped his arms around you, sighing softly.

Thump. Thump.

There it was again.

“Sorry I woke you,” he mumbled and you leaned your head on his chest, hearing his heart beat slow and steady, a stark contrast to your own heartbeat.

“Didn’t know who else to call.”

What about Harrison, you thought. Sam? Harry? Apparently none of them were available.

“It’s okay,” you heard yourself say, your hands tucked underneath his jacket, splayed across his back, his body radiating off heat.

Tom sniffed and buried his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled and you pulled away, only to be met with a dopey smile on his face.

“Alright, let’s get you home, come on.”

You nudged him gently and he reached down to lace his hand with yours, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Your heart beat wildly against your ribcage, despite you forcing it to calm down.

Traitor.

You squeezed his hand in question, but kept holding on either way. “What’s this about?”

“Don’t wanna get lost.”

Shaking your head, you lead him over to your car and got in the driver’s seat, while he climbed into the passengers seat, buckling himself up.

“Do you want to get some food or go straight home?” you asked as you turned your key in the ignition, with a glance to your left.

“Home,” he said and you pulled away from the curb, driving towards his house in Kingston. Even though it was nearing one am, the traffic was still quite busy, forcing you to focus on the street. You weren’t the best at night driver, and you openly admitted that.

Shortly, your car rolled to a stop in front of his house and you put the car in neutral while Tom unbuckled himself next to you.

“Alright, out with you, T. I have an early morning,” you said and he frowned at you.

“You’re not coming in?”

You leaned your chin in your hand, shaking your head. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

Pouting, Tom reached back to buckle himself back up again.

“What are you doing Tom?” you asked, exasperated. You really didn’t have the time to be patient with him right now.

“Going home,” he replied easily, looking at you with expectant eyes.

Groaning, you leaned your head against your steering wheel, breathing out deeply.

“You are home!” you exclaimed, rubbing over your eyes. You were tired, annoyed and he was starting to piss you off A LOT. You hadn’t thought that he was that drunk.

“No, you are my home,” Tom said bluntly and you inhaled sharply, staring at him.

“What?”

He shrugged and gave you a soft smile. “You are my home, so I’m going where you’re going,” he said and you swallowed thickly, unsure if it was his intoxication talking or if he was being honest. But his eyes were so open and earnest, it almost broke you.

“Okay then,” you mumbled, starting the car again. “But no funny business,” you told him when he put his hand on your thigh.

“I really do have to work early tomorrow morning.”

He nodded quickly and you scoffed before starting your drive home, his warm hand on your thigh constantly reminding you of his presence.

When you finally arrived at your apartment complex, Tom was quick to climb out and you followed him.

“You okay?” you asked him as he threw his around your shoulder while you walked to your door.

“Fine. Just tired,” he mumbled and you shook your head fondly at him, fumbling around with your keys to unlock your door. Tom was toeing his shoes off while you locked the door behind you, leaning against the doorway of the living room while he waited for you, his eyes drooping.

“Why don’t you go ahead to the bedroom? I’ll be right here,” you told him and he nodded sleepily, padding the familiar way towards your bedroom.

You headed to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water and some Advil, knowing he was going to need it in the morning before you followed him in your bedroom.

Tom had turned the small lamp on your nightstand on, a soft orange glow was illuminating the room. You stood in the doorway and you could see his clothes neatly folded on your drawer, while he was wrapped in your blanket; you presumed he was only in his boxers, his usual attire for the night.

“Stop starin’. It’s creepy,” he mumbled and you snorted, putting his stuff down on the nightstand.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

He only grumbled in reply and you stripped down to your underwear, slipping on an old t shirt before you crawled into bed yourself.

“Can’t sleep without you,” Tom whispered and your breath stocked in your throat, before you settled against him as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “You’re a little shit,” you told him in a hushed voice and he smiled, kissing you on the cheek.

“Your little shit,” he murmured and soon small snores filled the room. You looked down at him with a small sigh, stroking through his hair.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Shaking your head, you reached for your phone to text your boss you’d be in a little bit later in the morning, before you laid down to get some sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to rustling in the bed, groaning internally. You could feel Tom moving around next to you, but you kept your eyes shut, wondering what he was going to do.

He sat up and looked around the room, looking at your sleeping figure. “Shit,” he mumbled and rubbed at his eyes, yawning.

Tom laid back down and scooted up against your back, fingers trailing on your sides. “I know you’re awake,” he whispered in his raspy morning voice, pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

“You don’t know shit,” you replied and turned in his arms to look at him. His eyes were still half lidded and his hair was sticking in every direction. You’d laugh if it was any other morning. “You were a mess last night.”

“I know. Sorry. ” He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. “Do you want to grab breakfast before you have to go to work?”

“I’d rather talk about what you said about me being your home last night,” you pointed out and he flared his nostrils, turning away from you.

“You’re always telling me that what we’re doing is strictly platonic and then you say things like last night? What the fuck Tom?”

He ran his hand through his messy hair and clenched his jaw before he met your eyes again.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened at his confession and your heart stuttered, before you composed yourself.

“I’m just…” Tom broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought it was better for the both of us if we kept this casual. If I’d be in a relationship with you, I’d want to give you everything I had, which I can’t. I’m away all the time and the time difference would make it even harder and I-… I thought if I couldn’t have all of you, I wanted at least part of you. But it somehow was even worse, and I dunno.”

He grew quiet and dropped his gaze, fiddling with his hands.

“You’re an idiot,” you told him fondly and his eyes snapped up to yours.

“Every relationship is hard, you always have to put work in order for the relationship to work, we don’t live in a fairy tale,” you said, reaching out to push the hair out of his face.

“I’ve been pushing you away lately because I thought it’d help me cope with my feelings for you, but you always manage to worm your way back into my life.”

Tom grinned at you and placed a kiss on your palm when you patted his cheek.

“I am willing to put in the hard work if you are.”

His eyes lit up and he nodded, grabbing you by your wrist to pull you closer to him, having you land on top of him with a shriek.

“Anything for you.”

Add yourself to my taglist here!

Bolded means I couldn’t tag you for some reason. If that is the case with your user, please shoot me a message so we can figure out the problem!

Taglist: @lost-in-translating // @chaoticharmonyqueen // @sunflowercth // @thatphandomchick // @psychicforest // @llamasaurousmaddie // @fandomdarlings // @unfortunateshelby // @skyfall8600 // @yeahimcrying // @spideys-gurl // @one-big-fangirl // @imagine-lovebug // @professionalphangirluniverse // @zabdisamor // @palindrome-teddy // @axa-vega // @btsgot7crackheads // @angelicshinigami // @mrsfortune1306 // @spicy-mango626 // @thorsvotary // @boughs-of-hollie // @magicalturmoil // @overdramaticdepressedteen // @tomhollandismyspiderman // @tomshufflepuff // @trustfundparker // @evelyn120700 // @sincerelygmg // @the-surviving-revolutionist // @darktwistydiamond // @tomspidertingle // @jackiehollanderr // @jsusofsburbia // @afangirlwashere // @xidaughterofthemoonix // @beautifullydisconnected // @laureharrier

#things left unsaid #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland drabble #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #softspiderling

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novitafm · 5 years ago

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* 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓋𝒸 * 𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙’𝖘 𝖚𝖕 𝖚 𝖌𝖚𝖞𝖘 ! i’m late to the party but i was tryna be ~aesthetic~ & get my tags nice ! which is kinda . . . lame but oh well ! i’m ready to plot up in this bitch ! i just love the concept of this plot , like i’m the biggest reality tv show hoe ! i’m lit binging too hot to handle rn cause how can u not ? anywayth , this here is my baby love novita aka nova ur rags to riches storyline ! i want all the plots i can get & if u wanna plot smash that lil 🖤 button ! i can hit u up on tumblr ims . . . but in all honesty tumblr ims suck so hit ya girl up on dickcord @ 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝖘𝖚𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘#4904 that way i can constantly annoy u !

there’s 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔱𝔞 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔬 ! though on their socials they go by @supernova . i heard she is originally from 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌 , 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂 , but made the big move to los angeles to join TWENTIES . you haven’t heard about it ? well , apparently their dream is to 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒐 , but they have no chance unless they quit being so 𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 & 𝔰𝔶𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔠 . that said , those behind the scenes have said they can be 𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱 & 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔫 too . guess we’ll have to watch and find out ! ━ & pink highlighted scripts scattered on the kitchen table , lacy lingerie peeking out of clothing & love letters tucked away in a hat box on a closet shelf .

TW : drugs

* ･. ∘ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 . ◞

𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 › novita grace serrano 𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 › nova , novs & serrano 𝔞𝔤𝔢 › twenty one years old 𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥 › february 29th , 1999 𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫 › aquarius sun , moon & rising 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 › los angeles , california 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 › plantation mobile home park , florida 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦��𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 › american 𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 › actress & model 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪 › zoey deutch 𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪 › kaia gerber 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 & 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔰 › cisfemale & she / her 𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 › pansexual & panromantic 𝔩𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔰 › the coquette , the babydoll & the sybarite

* ･. ∘ 𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 . ◞

pink highlighted scripts scattered on the kitchen table , an intense coffee addiction , lacy lingerie peeking out of clothing , strappy high heels , floral perfumes with sweet notes , love letters tucked away in a hat box tucked on a closet shelf , black lingerie for special occasions , glossy lips constantly , pink champagne , sweet breakfast foods , freshly manicured nails

* ･. ∘ 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 . ◞

valentina & matteo met at a typical high school party , valentina the girl from a strict & religious household , matteo the dirtbag left to his own devices

the two had a whirlwind romance , getting high off each other & off of crack , the drug of choice that matteo introduced valentina to

after only six months , valentina & matteo were addicted , not only to their toxic relationship but to the crack , all at the mere age of 15 & 18

their highs & carelessness led to valentina getting pregnant , when the two found out that she was pregnant they ran away

they both came from very strict households & this was their way out , something they always talked about in bed

they only went about four hours away from home , landing in plantation mobile home park florida

soon after getting the cheapest & most run down trailer matteo fled

he left to find the next needle to stick in his arm without the financial & emotional burden of being a father

thus , novita was born to an addict teenaged single mom in a trailer park

so valentina was left without her family , alone to raise a baby at the age of sixteen all the while trying to stay sober for the baby that changed her life , thankfully she was able to get a job but there were a few times where she almost lost it because she slipped

her mother , valentina , was a waitress at a diner making minimum wage

since valentina was a single parent that would work as much as she could nova had to be taken care of by someone else , she was watched by a older woman who she called kitty who had lived in the trailer park since she was born

when she did slip kitty watched nova , she actually had a small room just for the girl when valentina was either working late or disappeared for a little bit

because of her mother’s job & her craving for a high there wasn’t a whole lot of money for the two of them

nova grew up fairly poor life & she always fantasized about her mother getting swept off her feet by a rich , handsome doctor or lawyer , a fantasy that valentina shared but never voiced

when nova was seven she was at the mall with kitty , while her mom was at work , they were approached by a talent company who thought nova would make a great child actress or model

kitty knowing that valentina & nova needed the money , signed nova up

at first valentina was less than happy about her child being an actress or model because of how it would interfere with her job & nova’s schooling

but when she heard how much nova could make in just one day & with kitty offering to help by taking her to auditions & jobs she allowed nova to start her career

nova’s first job was a commercial for barbies , something that nova will always remember

the beginning of her career was a slow start , making valentina reconsider having nova being in the business a handful of times , but each time valentina had doubts , kitty helped reassure her

when nova turned twelve she got her biggest role , a reoccurring role in a soap opera as a daughter of a main character

she continued that role up until she was fifteen , by the time she hit fifteen school was really put on the back burner in nova’s eyes

instead of being concerned with pep rallies & dances , she was more bothered with finding what her next role or photoshoot would be

finally at sixteen , after a lot of pestering on nova’s part , valentina let nova quit school & instead get her ged

once she had her ged & didn’t need to attend school she had a lot more time on her hands , giving her more opportunities to work jobs

this is when her career really started taking off , she was booking more modeling gigs , which had her traveling & living the model lifestyle

the traveling made her long for a better life , seeing where elite models & talented actresses could go if they worked hard enough

this is what drove nova , she saved & saved & saved , instead of telling valentina she was making more money she tucked away the difference so that she would be able to make her way to la when she turned eighteen

the summer that her high school friends graduated & nova was about to turn eighteen , she moved across the country to la with a high school friend ( wanted connection mayhaps ) they got a run down apartment with all of the money they both had saved up

thanks to nova moving to la she was able to get better roles & more impressive gigs

i’m using zoey deutch as her acting claim so i’m gonna say that her first big role was as shadia in dirty grandpa when she was eighteen

then she slowly began getting more movie roles like everybody wants some !! , good kids , why him , & before i fall

she’s still not nearly where she would like to be career wise , but she’s making her way towards stardom

when her agent told her about the casting call for twenties , nova was apprehensive , she didn’t want to be seen as a reality tv star like paris hilton or lauren conrad , she wanted to make a name for herself as an actress

but nova’s agent convinced her that twenties would get her more recognition & show how hard she’s working on her craft & that was all it took for nova to say yes to the audition

she didn’t have high hopes for the show & didn’t even plan on being cast , but when she got the call she realized how eager she actually was to be apart of twenties

* ･. ∘ 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 . ◞

𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 › fervent , driven , confident , charismatic & independent 𝔲𝔫𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 › egotistic , sybaritic , guileful , critical & histrionic 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔭𝔬 › buffy summers , jennifer check , lorelai gilmore , robin scherbatsky , lucille bluth , margaery tyrell , jackie burkhart & kathryn merteuil

given her history , nova has grown up to be a very driven & motivated girl

she takes her work very seriously because she never wants to end up like her mother or back in a trailer park

nova learned from a young age that being charismatic & flirtatious made you stand out in a crowd of girls the look the same as you & want the same things as you

she uses her sexuality to her advantage & she’s a huge feminist that promotes women making choices about their bodies for themselves

novs is all about the girl friendships & is loyal to a fault , if her best friend told her that her boyfriend broke up with her nova would be on his ass in an instant

despite her loyalty i don’t really see nova making lots of close friends easily , once they are close she’s extremely open but opening up is hard for her to do

she also likes to party she’s very much into the lavish lifestyle , wanting to milk it for all it’s work while it’s still available to her

she’s incredibly independent , very confident & extremely adventurous

though nova can be quite self absorbed & self obsessed in the sense that her career & herself are the only priorities in her life

* ･. ∘ 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 . ◞

ride or die , girl squad , best guy friend , brother like relationship , good influence , party friends , drinking buddies , shopping friends , gossip squad , only like each other when they’re both drunk , on & off hookups , friends with benefits , one night stand , ex boyfriend , ex girlfriend , will they / won’t they , costar , producer , fellow model on a job , enemies , rivals , annoyance , angel on her shoulder , tagalong & so many more !!

#twenties:intro #drugs tw #tw drugs #this is kinda trash i'm sry just love me pls !!

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noiseartists · 5 years ago

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Loomer: Bliss from Brazil

Loomer, from Brazil, are another great Shoegaze band (or Nu-gaze band if you are timely conscious) that have emerged on the worldwide scene in the last decade.

The band is currently composed of 4 members:

Stefano (Male vocals/guitar),

Michelle (Female vocals/bass),

Richard (guitar)

Guilherme (Drums).

They are currently on the Midsummer Madness label. Looker have released two EP’s and two albums as of the time of writing this, May 2019.

Loomer certainly wear their influences on their shoes (See what I did there!) but Stefano (Lead male vocals/guitarist) insist that they do not force the music that they make and that they are different people and each member brings their own influences and ideas to the studio.

They really live up to the title of indie as they are independent in their creating and recording of their own songs. Since their 2nd EP ‘Coward Soul’ the band have mixed all of their work and mastered all of it, bar the debut album ‘You Would Not Anyway’ which was also recorded in various places ranging from the comfort of home to an unorthodox location such as a beach!

Loomer prefer to start playing tinny, trebly sounding arpeggios that are more concentrated on authentic guitar tone blended with a bit of bliss that is reminiscent of Swervedriver, in particularly, the outro of their 1993 hit from Sophomore album Mezcal Head; Duel. In fact, their inclination of rock style lead guitar playing and the tone that they select would fit well into any Swervedriver song. However, Loomer are far from being a rip off band. Their ability to stay clear from obvious guitar effects like Reverse Reverb (which has been subject to over kill in the Shoegaze genre for the last 30 years) and floaty guitar tone sucking ambience is refreshing.

MUSIC WORK

Their first EP’s were ‘Mind Drops’ (2009), followed by ‘Coward Soul’ (2010) and the two albums are ‘You Would Not Anyway’ (2013) and ‘Deserter’ (2017). The first EP’s are both raw in sound quality, like they were made in 1988 and immediately, I can hear comparisons to The Jesus and Mary Chain (Check out the tracks ‘Search On Your Own’ and ‘Damned’ with Jim Reid style deep vocals and more ear-piercing feedback than your English teacher gave you at school), damn, these guys are loud!

The other EP ‘Coward Soul’ (2010) reminds me initially of Sonic Youth because of the raw octave, harmonic, rapidly strummed spring reverbed guitar playing, and the sudden outbursts of punky shouting during the refrains. This is also the first EP that features female vocals blended with Stefano’s vocals in the form of Michelle, like Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon. The debut album ‘You Wouldn’t Anyway’ aesthetically catches my eye with very 60’s psychedelic cover art that is lit up in a striking purple colour and the music is better produced than their EP’s.

The track ‘Enough (From the debut Mind Drops EP) starts with an interesting tinny slightly delayed single note riff before launching into a raucous, unstoppable and solid wall of sound that features a joyous, bouncy vocal melody encapsulated. Ethereal, fragile but endearing female vocals enter the fray in the first refrain section gliding along with the deeper, reassuring male vocal creating a balance or maybe an imbalance to the music that the band themselves admit to liking the sense of mystery in their songwriting and sound. Classic My Bloody Valentine right there, hence the name of this band. The ending mellows out but instead of the abrasive guitars transforming into ethereal, angelically ambient tools of sorcery,

On their Album ‘Deserter’, a track that grabbed me is the penultimate song, ‘Another Round’ which begins with one very fuzzed up guitar and a few abrupt un-musical jack input noises to create suspense. The guitar tones on this track are pure gorgeous and they also vary. Each section of this song has something different going on with the guitars, whether in terms of tone or chord changes or playing technicalities, it’s all evolving all of the time, sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant. The fuzz that growls and a purrs like a V8 engine in an American muscle or British lightweight sports car appears in the pre-chorus section acting as a soothing haze coinciding with the floaty vocal lines. This track is by far one of the catchiest and interesting tunes from the album without being too simple or boring.

The album finale, appropriately named ‘Opinions’ features a mind bending dentist drill guitar effect that emerges at the Thirty One, Fifty mark of the album and emerges again near the end ad sees out the remainder of the song. Again, this is a track full of surprises that gives the listener one final treat before the album ends and all of a sudden, the world seems like such a quiet and dull place.

Therefore, this album, this artist do their job as a huge aspect of the essence of Shoegaze music is to transport the listener and when the music stops, the holy experience is over and the world is bland again, and that’s when you really appreciate the benefit of this incredible genre that we call Shoegaze. Loomer certainly capture this essence.

Link to ‘Enough’ from debut EP, Mind Drops (2009) below:

Stunning track from debut EP, Mind Drops (2009)

INTERVIEW

THE BAND

Where are you from in the Brazil? Where are you living now?

I, jaquelina and guilherme were born in Rio Grande Do Sul, south of Brazil. Fernanda was born in Santa Catarina, also in southern Brazil. Richard was born in Germany. And Michelle was born in the United States. At the moment, Fernanda who played bass with us is living in Florida United States, and Michelle is living in Porto Alegre, she is our current bass player now.

What did you study?

I studied Electronic Engineering. Richard and Guilherme studied design. Fernanda studied psychology. Jaquelina is a self-taught artist. Michelle is studying civil engineering.

What is your day job at present if any?

I like my job, but I dont really want to talk about it. Sorry...

Do you dream to live from your music or is it a passion you do not want to spend your full time on?

I don’t really know. I’m following what life offers me. I really love music and cannot stop doing that.

Do you have families?

I live with my wife Jaquelina. We don’t have any children yet. Michelle lives with Andressa, her girlfriend. Fernanda lives with Kim, her wife. Richard lives with Maria, his wife. Guilherme is divorced and is the only one of us who has a son, Gabriel.

Could you tell me how the band meet and decided to do music together?

I was playing another band called Transmission. In the year 2005 Richard came to live in Porto Alegre, and formed another band called Lautmusik, as he liked my band we decided to do a tour together in 2007. But things ended up not working, Transmission stopped playing in 2007 because the singer has moved to another country. Because of that, we probably ended up making a band.

Guilherme, was already my acquaintance, we played in another band called Materia Plastica, and he came to join us as our drummer. Liege was the last one to join the band, but that gave the finishing touch in the formation, took the bass and made the backing vocals in some songs and sang others. Later in 2013 the Liege left and entered the Fernanda that already played with me in the band Parkplatz. This is the formation that resists to this day.

Can you tell me the inspiration behind your band? You can detect the influences of shoegaze and indie rock. There is also a very interesting duality with some violence in the music that is always balanced by some tranquility with the feminine voice or other means. It is a great example of ying and yang or masculine / feminine influences. Is it on purpose?

We did not try to force the music we made. I mean, at least we think so. We are different people, and each one brings their influences to the music. Sometimes the core of the song is composed at home grossly and finalized in the studio over many essays, other times it is completely developed in the studio. We like male / female duality, we think it brings a balance, or maybe an imbalance. I'm not sure, I just know we like it that way.

Was there a vision of sorts or did you know what you wanted to do when you started up? I.e. when you started the band was it always a project to create a shoegaze band? Or was it different from now?

At first, Richard, our guitarist, had the idea of making a band in the style of My Bloody Valentine. We watched TV shows, we listened to music, watched horror movies. So he had this preconception. But when we got people together and started playing, we had more influences than just MBV, and we wanted to use all of them. It was a lot more fun, and we kept it that way. After all, we do not like to sound too alike to anyone, we prefer to sound like ourselves.

Do you have any other musical side projects apart from this band?

Actually, at the moment we are not playing in any side project, but we already had many.

Could you tell me more on the band composition? Do you have plans to add new members, or is there possible departure scheduled from existing band members?

The band is me (Stefano) on male voice and guitar, Michelle on female voice and bass, Richard guitar and Guilherme drums. Fernanda moved to USA in 2015/2016. Jaquelina played with us from 2016 to 2017. Now we are playing with Michelle Franzen.

We've already had 4 bass players playing with us since initial training. Liege in 2008, Fernanda in 2013, Jackelina in 2017 and Michelle in 2018. We have no plans to add or remove band members. We are just doing music and shows, things that we love, but sometimes the circumstances of life change people's destiny.

Can you tell us more how you came to have the band’s name?

Well, in the beginning we were playing for 6 months and have a scheduled show, but we hadn`t a name yet. So we made a list of 50 names to choose one. Loomer was a suggestion made by Richard, and it was the winner. Of course Loomer is because of MBV song, but what we use to say is that we wasn't looking for anything related to MBV on purpose, it was just a coincidence that this was the best name to think of when we had to choose one.

The Creative process

Who writes the song and the music and how do you get to the final song? Is it a community process, do you have leaders in composing or arranging music?

We have a lot of ways to compose songs. Some of the songs I write at home and bring to the band. Some songs are born entirely in the studio. Some songs starts with a guitar riff, some with the drums or bass giving the idea to the band to complete the rest.

Do you listen to the advice of your band mates? What would you do if they said a song was shit but you liked it?

Well, this has not happened yet. But what usually happens is that sometimes the members do not have ideas to play certain music, and it is put on the shelf to be finished later. Sometimes when a song takes too long to complete, it may happen that we lose the spirit it initially had.

There’s a degree of unconventional songwriting with you guys. Was it kind of intimidating going to record knowing people might not be engaging with the songs in terms of hooks and such and trying to deliver an engaging sound on record?

We just try to make songs that we think are good. We do not know how many people will like it but if we like it it was already worth the effort. Everyone in the band is free to contribute to the composition, and this already provides a greater degree of creativity.

Personally I like songs that confuse the head but that are simple after you understand it. But I will not impose anything if it is not working. I can not say for sure. I think what we do has to be worth it to us, somehow.

You have a great way about your guitars, with tones and melodies answering each other, almost like discussing. Could you tell us more on how you work together on this?

Well, we've played so loud that many times we can not hear what others are doing. It is often a pleasant surprise when we will listen to the recording. Maybe our guitar dialogue is just two guitars talking to the walls. Another important detail is that we try not to interfere with what each one creates. Anyway we think it works.

Talking about the lyrics: who write them? Is there a common thread in them, a theme?

Usually I write the lyrics. But usually I write only what I sing, and when Liege sang, she wrote the part of it. Fernanda has not yet felt comfortable writing her songs, although we encourage her to do so. But she helped me in the lyrics on the last album. I do not think of a main theme when I write, at least on purpose. I think this ends up appearing naturally according to what I am experiencing at the moment.

Do you labor over your lyrics? Is that something that comes easy?

I do not consider myself good at writing. I think I'm better maybe in the melodies. I admit that several songs I leave to decide on the lyrics only during the recording, although I already have an idea of what I would like to talk about. Anyway we like the voice as being just another instrument of music, not being something in the foreground.

Do you have a message that you want to get across in your music? If so, what are some of the messages you want to spread?

I do not have a message. When I start to write I do not know what I'm talking about. And if I have enough time to this initial process the whole letter appears and I am quite happy with the result. But if by chance I leave the lyrics to finish later, then I will need to understand the subject to be able to conclude. These are the hardest to finish.

Did your listening habits changed over the years and does it affect what you write?

Yes, my habits change a little over time. And I think it's natural that what I write also changes. But I do not try to do anything on purpose. What I want to say is that I do not try to listen to something new in order to incorporate this into my music because it's a new trend. What I do is dig old and new bands for something I really enjoy. And when I write, it's always the old thing I've always done.

How is your recognition going in Indonesia and Abroad? Is it growing? Are you happy with it?

Did you mean in Brazil? Yes, in Brazil we have some recognition that has been growing slowly. We are happy with this, because it is a musical style that has no space in the mainstream media. Time helps reward that.

The path to music

Is it easy to find producers and studios in Brazil for indie-rock?

It is not very easy to find, so we produce ourselves. We like to do this because we can keep the result close to what we would like it to be. But we lost in the aspect of an external opinion that could enrich the music.

Your recorded sound is very good, which is not easy. Did you engineer the sound yourself, or did you have a sound engineer with you? If yes could you tell us more about him/her?

The first EP "Mind Drops" was recorded by Lucas Pocamacha, guitarist of Superguidis, a very cool indie-rock band here in Brazil that is not playing anymore. He did this in exchange for a sound card we bought for him. The second EP "Coward Soul" was recorded in the DUB studio that we usually do our rehearsals and we did the mixing and the mastering.

The first LP "You Would not Anyway" we recorded ourselves at home, on the beach, in the studio, in different places. We mixed and the mastering was done by Paulo Casaes (Fujimo).

The last album "Deserter" we recorded in the studio Dissenso and in the studio DUB. I mixed it myself and mastered it. We've been looking for a sound engineer but we still can not find it. We thought it would be very good for us. In the meantime, we're doing things ourselves.

Was it a community work to try to have the best sounding music possible or mainly driven by the sound engineer or by the band?

It is a work mainly directed by the band. We spent a lot of time mixing the result. Recording usually does not take long. But it is not so because we want it this way. It's because the recording (mainly the drums) is usually in the studio and paid per hour. I still believe it's best to spend more time recording and less time mixing. The result would be even better.

Can you tell us how the recording process was?

We are still learning. But what we usually do is record the drums first. Our drummer likes to record with us playing together, without a metronome or guide track. In this sense I think it can be said that each band has an ideal way to do the recording.

Anyway the drums is the one that takes more time to be recorded in our case. And it's worth it because if it gets well done it makes it easier for the rest of the process. It needs to do in the studio. After that we recorded the bass, and it can be recorded at home if we want to save money. It's something quick to record, so it would also be okay to record in the studio.

After the bass comes the guitars. What takes in the recording of the guitars is not so much the execution, but the choice of the tones, the pedals, the regulation of the effects. Many hours of tuning and testing for 4 minutes of noise. But it's worth.

Since it takes a lot of time to adjust the tone of the guitar, it is best to record several songs at a time when you find the right tone. It is possible to record the guitar at home, but it gets better in the studio since we play loud. At last we record the voices, and these we can do at home as well. It's good to have a condenser microphone for this.

The rest we solve in the mix, where we do all the magic. But that is not a rule. We like badly recorded things too. Whistles, voices and guitars out of tune. What does not work can fit in very well. You need to hear what's coming out. I think it's the ear that's in charge after all

How did the recording work differ over time?

We recorded all of our albums. With this we learn over time new things, new tricks. I think you should not give too much importance to mistakes, or avoid doing something because you do not know enough.

More important than that is to let work flow, to enjoy the flow of inspiration because it matters more than the quality of work. But the recording is also part of the work, the two things complete themselves, the recording and the composition.

Is the recording material yours when you are out of a studio or do you borrow/rent it?

We have our own recording material. That is to say, we acquire over time equipment that we understand that would add to the sound of the band. But we also try to stay free to enjoy what we find at the recording location. It may be the noise of the wind, the trees, the water, in a studio we take advantage of some old equipment, a tape recorder, a tube or tape microphone, things that may sound a bit strange, or that inspire us.

Any interesting anecdotes on some recording session you would like to share?

I'm not very good at trying to be funny. But in our first EP Mind Drops we did the recording on a farm improvised. We took the sound table, the microphones, the amplifiers, the drums and everything else. We made the loudest noise, played really loudly and recorded separately, on separate tracks. Could not understand the result at the time.

Back in town, when we went to mix the result, we could hear horse whinnies, the noise of chickens and other strange things on certain channels. When I put everything together I could not see it. It was like this. I think this is funny in a way...

Did getting the live experience across on record create any pressure for yourselves in the recording process?

I think it creates a pressure yes. But we are not very organized to create the songs, or sometimes we take a lot of time to finish them. So some pressure helps us. They push us forward.

Instruments: you seem to be mainly a Fender band. Could you tell me what inspire you to use fenders rather than other brands?

We really like the Fender sound. I think what motivated us to use so many Fender outfits are our influences like Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr, My Bloody Valentine among others. We thank them, because we like the result.

A question for a future paper I have in mind: if you use often a Fender Jaguar, could you tell me more about what makes it good to play (sound, neck, …). I find there are lot of noise artists that are using this guitar and I am interested to know why.

In my case, what I like most about this guitar is the sound of it. I think the combination of her sound with distortion and fuzz pedals gives a very engaging effect. Besides I consider a very beautiful guitar. I personally like old, vintage things, working fine.

Do you have one favorite instrument or do you change often?

We do not usually switch instruments. We have a fixed formation, with bass, two guitars and drums. In the recording sometimes we risk playing other things, like acoustic guitar, synthesizer, tambourine. But anyone can say or suggest ideas.

The funny thing to note is that we are a band in which we are all guitar players. Guilherme our drummer is actually a guitarist, and our bass player Fernanda is also a guitarist. I always use the same guitar, the Fender Jaguar. Although you have already modified some things in it like the keys, the pickups and the bridge, it's always the same.

But what I change with some frequency are the pedals. As I have more pedals than fit on the pedalboard, I do some kind of rotation to test everyone. In the end of course there are some favorite pedals.

Tell us what you are looking when trying to achieve your sounds? Do you experiment a lot or have a clear idea of what you want?

We experiment a lot, and we've tried to take advantage of everyone's idea. Maybe this will end up making the song a bit unconventional. But I like strange and uncomfortable songs. I can not say what we are looking for, because each one actually puts it in its own way. We eventually discovered what we ended up creating. I do not know if it's the best way to compose, probably not, but that's how we do it.

Who is the more knowledgeable with pedals? You use them a lot, to great effect.

Thank you. We ended up getting a lot of pedals. We do some research and we end up getting some. In the end we want to use everyone, which is not possible of course. But I think they help increase the possibilities of the songs. Me and Richard are the most interested in pedals, we've been researching what some bands we like have used on albums we like and we're going after them. It's a form of judgment because there is a very wide variety of pedals.

How many concert a year would you do on average and what would be the size of the venue?

We do not do many shows. We do 5 to 10 shows per year. But that depends a little on the season, since we've been focused on finishing the album in recent times. The size of the venues depends a bit on the event, we have already played in venues for 10,000 people, and we have already played in venues for 50 people. The smaller ones are more suitable for us, because our public is not so big, besides, small places are cooler.

Would you mind sharing some good anecdotes from your concerts/touring?

In respect to the reader, it may not be a good idea. =)

What are some places around the world that you hope to take your band? Do you have any plans at present to tour in other countries than the Brazil.

We think of going to countries here near Brazil, like Uruguay and Argentina. We also have plans to go to the United States, after all our bass player Fernanda lives there. We also thought about going to the UK, we even staged a show last year but we couldn’t go. Japan too. It's good to have plans, don’t you think?

Is there any reason in particular that you want to go to these places? Is there something about dream pop/shoegaze in those places that makes you want to go there?

We really like to write songs. Besides composing, recording them, it's very cool. In addition to recording, being able to play them around, and checking people's connection to our songs, this is very motivating. Sometimes we go places far away from where we came here in our huge country and have some people who know our names, follow our trajectory.

They thank us for doing that. I think there is a natural process of an artist wanting to expose their creation. These countries we mentioned before, we are very curious. We have a strong connection with them as well, as these are places that really enjoy shoegaze music, or that have created the style. You know, we're just living.

The Scene

Brazil have a thriving indie scene that is not very well known internationally. Could you tell us more about it?

Brazil is a huge and beautiful country. It's hard to know everything. There are many bands that come and go, and some are really good, but that for some reason are not very well known. In fact the indie scene is something that is self help based on the friendship, and in the musical taste of course, since there is no support of the larger media. We have some blogs and independent radio programs on the internet that have helped. It's really a fun aside.

Is it easy for a Brazilian indie bands to be known internationally? Do you have any example?

I think it's not easy, not because the bands do not deserve it, but because the outside public would probably think 'look, a Brazilian band singing indie rock. it must be bad.'. I do not know. Maybe not. It's all a matter of taste. I do not think much about being known or succeeding outside (or inside) Brazil. I think only of making songs that I consider important, maybe cool, or worthwhile for us to record or play at shows.

With respect to bands, there was an indie band that was relatively well known abroad 'Cansei de Ser Sexy'. With respect to Brazilian shoegaze, I know of two bands that lived in London for a while, Wry that is in Brazil now again, and The Tambourines who still lives there. Our seal, the Midsummer Madness, is now in London as well.

Has the scene changed since you began, and if so how?

The scene changed a lot, many times. In the 80's and 90's, many people went to the shows without even knowing who was playing, local bands had space on some local radios, record companies invested in new bands. In the 2000s there was a lot of variation, difficulty in publicizing the concerts, closing bars and independent rock show venues.

But you can go play in other cities, or on the other side of this immense country. With the internet and social networks, you can promote the shows in distant places. Even though there are few, there are always one or two pubs to play.

Nowadays still appear spaces for bands, because the bands help themselves based on the friendship. It's a way of life.

Is there any Brazilian band(s) you want to recommend in the indie/shoegaze/post-rock genres?

There's a lot of cool bands here. I can cite a few such as Herod, Twinpine (s), Wry, Labyrinth, Sileste, Justine Never Knew The Rules, Firefriend, Lava Divers, Juna, Carne de Monstro, Churrus, Space Rave, The Sorry Shop, Lupe Lupe, Low Dream, Fellini, Second Come, Pin Ups, Patife Band, This Lonely Crowd, Bruxas, Duelectrum, The Soundscapes, Blear, The Cigarettes, ruido\ mm, Proud Beggars, Walverdes

Economics

Do you have a label? Could you tell us a bit more if so.

We have two labels currently, Midsummer Madness and Sinewave. Both help us in spreading the record. Midsummer Madness also helps us in the pressing of physical disks. They both also help us to schedule shows here in Brazil.

How did the funding worked for the LP? Did you invest a lot yourself? Was your label supportive in that respect?

Yes, the label helps with a portion of the money to make the LP, and it returns in LPs to be sold. The other part is paid by us and we have the equivalent in LPs to be sold as well.

Where does the majority of the money go when you’re paying your own way?

Most of the money goes in the beers.

Do you make a decent revenue from your music or is it still very much a hobby?

We do not have enough revenue for considering it a professional work. In the best of situations we can pay the expenses. But that does not mean that we will change or give up, because we do what we love.

How do you sell your recordings (shops, online, …)?

Our label, Midsummer Madness, sells a part of the discs online. We sell online also through bandcamp and at shows.

The Future

What is the next album due?

We're thinking of making a single or an EP now. But we do not have a definitive date yet. It would be good to be this year, but...

Any other project (ie movies soundtrack, …) or plans

Richard plans to make a horror B movie. He really likes 80s-b-horror-movies. Maybe I'll do the soundtrack. Something with synthesizer or noisy bending guitars. It can be funny.

Do you plan to continue music for a long time or are you tired of it?

We do not intend to stop playing music ever. While it is possible to step on the pedals, they will be busy. I do not think it's possible to get tired of something that you love. Circumstances change, sometimes they get difficult, but that's what makes things worth it. I could get tired of not loving anything.

MORE ON LOOMER

Some good music videos

Where to find them on internet

Bandcamp

Myspace

Facebook

Is there any people that you want to thank here?

I thank Sam and David (the Editor), you’re great!

1 note · View note

asidian · 7 years ago

Note

for promptis: have you heard of the Hanahaki disease? It's a fictional disease that has the potential for some GREAT angst...

Author’s Notes: I had actually only heard of it in passing, so I had to research a little for this one. I hope I didn’t do it wrong??? orz

===

Love Blooms

===

It happens the first time on the night of the summer solstice festival, their junior year in high school.

They’re sitting up on top of the parking structure five blocks down from the festival grounds, waiting for the fireworks to start. It won’t be the best view in the city, but it gets them out of the crowds packing the street down below. They’ve done the festival games and the greasy food on sticks already; Prompto’s feet are throbbing with a dull ache from wandering around all day.

It’s nice, being up here above the press of people. There are a couple of other stragglers sharing the concrete overhang with them, but not many. When Prompto turns his head the right way, it’s almost like it’s just him and Noct.

The night’s warm and balmy; the wind is ruffling Noct’s hair. Noct’s face is tipped upward, and his eyes are the same dark blue as the sky, that last gasp before evening fades out into night.

Prompto wishes he could afford that camera he’s been eying. If he had it, he’d snap a shot right now. His whole chest aches, with some indescribable need to preserve this moment.

Noct turns toward him, just a slight angling of his head, and Prompto feels his face flush, like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“What up with you?” Noct says, with that slanted smile he does so well, and Prompto’s tongue feels heavy, twisted up in knots.

Something’s tickling at the back of his throat.

“Nothing,” says Prompto. “Just want the fireworks to hurry up and start, you know?”

They do hurry up and start. They explode across the sky like someone’s lit the world on fire with magic. The thunder of them blooming covers up the sound of Prompto coughing, and he glances down into his palm, perplexed – wonders how the hell he swallowed a sylleblossom petal without knowing it.

===

Noct finally notices midway through senior year.

It’s the week before midterms, and if Prompto’s going to pass chem, he needs to cram like crazy. So Noct, eighteen now and still enamored of his brand new apartment, says, “Pack a bag and stay a couple days. We’ll buckle down and do some test prep.”

So Prompto packs a bag. His parents aren’t due back for another two weeks yet, so he doesn’t bother leaving a note.

He just slings his duffel over his shoulder and hops a train to Noct’s place. His thoughts are all over on the short ride in the posh elevator, but mostly they keep coming back around to what he’s going to do if Noct wants to share a bed.

Prompto’s figured it out by now; he’s got it bad for his best friend. Even if his waking mind was dumb as bricks, his sleeping mind would have clued him in. His dreams lately have been all Noct, all the time. He’s washed his sheets already three times this week.

That tickle is there in the back of his throat, all the way up the hall to Noct’s apartment. It’s so ever-present he hardly notices it anymore, but he can feel a thick kind of burning in his lungs, now, too. It feels like he’s just run six miles and can’t quite catch his breath.

Prompto reaches out and knocks on the door.

When Noct opens it, the warm light from the living room frames him. He’s smiling, crooked and kind of wry. Behind him, Prompto can see that there’s already snacks set out on the table, waiting for them.

It feels a little like coming home.

Prompto opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly that burning in his lungs is pressure, insistent and smothering. He tries to take a breath, but it wheezes in his throat. He coughs, and once he’s started he can’t stop.

He doubles over, there in the hallway; this time, there’s not just one or two petals. This time it’s dozens, a whole cascade of blue.

Prompto keeps going until he’s dizzy, keeps going until his lungs feel clear and he can gasp for air.

Noct loops an arm around him, holding him steady. He’s asking, voice low with concern, whether Prompto’s all right. His tone is comforting; his body heat feels like a miniature sun, pressed up against Prompto’s side.

Suddenly, Prompto can’t breathe again.

===

“No,” says Noct. “Flowers.”

His voice drifts in from the hallway, through the cracked-open door: one half of a phone call. Whatever this conversation is about, Prompto woke up in the middle of it – so now here he is, lying back in his bed, trying not eavesdrop.

“Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds!” Noct snaps. “I’d think it was something out of a kid’s book, if I hadn’t been watching him do it for literal months.”

There’s a pause. Then Noct’s voice comes again – softer, more strained. “I know. I’m sorry.” A pause. “He kept saying he was fine.”

It’s true. Prompto’s been trying to tell himself that for years now. It was second nature to tell Noct, too – grin and suppress the coughing, and try to ignore that his breathing’s been getting worse by the day.

“Because he passed out on the subway this afternoon,” Noct says. “Look, I just – can you come? He doesn’t have insurance, and I can’t get ahold of his parents.”

There’s silence in the hall. Then Noct says, “Thanks, Specs.”

There’s nothing else for a long time. Then, finally, the door creaks open. Noct looks tired. His eyes are red around the edges.

“Hey,” he says. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” says Prompto, but his voice is that breathy whisper that seems to be all he has the air for, these days.

“Yeah,” says Noct. “Well. I talked to Ignis. He’s gonna try and pull some strings to get you in to see the Citadel doctor.”

Before Prompto can even open his mouth to protest, Noct’s holding up a hand. “Just – let me do this, okay? I’m worried about you.”

Noct crosses over to the bed and gives him a weary smile – sets a hand on his. Prompto’s heart kicks into overdrive, and he does his best to offer a smile in return.

“Thanks, dude,” he rasps, and Noct’s fingers squeeze, and gods. Gods, now is the worst time ever for another coughing fit – but he doubles over, hacking and choking, and Noct rubs his back until he’s done.

===

The Citadel doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Neither does the specialist they bring in from Altissia.

All they know is that there’s honest-to-gods plant matter in his lungs, and it’s screwing with their ability to actually be lungs, and that’s all stuff Prompto could have told them without the hundred and twenty-seven different tests they’ve put him through.

He got to see the x-rays, though, and those were sort of cool. Kinda pretty, like some abstract art piece.

He told his mom that, when they finally got her on the phone. He still feels bad for making her cry.

Prompto’s been sleeping a lot, lately. The cough medicine they’ve got him on is the good stuff, but even with it, he can barely hold it together. When it gets bad, he curls up on his side and presses a pillow against himself, tight as he can. Doctor’s orders, ever since he coughed so hard he cracked a rib.

The only good part of the whole thing is Noct.

They’ve moved Prompto into the Citadel for treatment, so they see each other every day, now. Noct sits by the bedside and holds his hand – rubs his thumb up and down over the knuckles. They watch dumb movies on TV, and sometimes they play video games, and when Noct gets tired of sitting in the chair, he comes and curls up on the bed, right by Prompto.

The doctor won’t give him a number, but there’s probably not much time left.

Prompto can’t think of a better way to spend it.

===

“Hey,” Prompto says, one afternoon, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” says Noct.

Outside the window, the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold. Something in Prompto twists at the thought of it. He always kind of wanted to take photos of the view from Noct’s balcony, at this time of day, after he saved up for that camera he wanted.

He guesses he’s never going to get the chance, now.

“I’ve been thinking,” says Prompto, and then he trails off. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Prom?” says Noct.

“I know you’re the prince,” Prompto says at last. “And you can get pretty much whatever you want.”

“What the hell?” Noct starts to say, but Prompto lifts a hand to cut him off, and he falls silent.

“It’s true, dude,” says Prompto. “Just go with it for now, okay?” He stops again. Swallows. “But if you want anything of mine, like – for anything. Just to hold onto. You can have whatever you want.”

Noct’s staring at him, eyes wide and stricken. The look on his face is all naked hurt.

“You’ve still got the spare key, right?” says Prompto. “Just let yourself in. Mom booked passage back from Accordo, but I don’t think – she might not make it in time. So when you’re ready, just, like – just go and take whatever.”

Noct’s hand is clenched around his, so hard it hurts.

Prompto means to add more, but that burning sensation is back in his lungs again. He has to give in – coughs until he’s light-headed and reeling with lack of air.

He’s aware, vaguely, that Noct’s there right beside him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers, reaching out to thread through his hair – softly, gently, the way you’d soothe a skittish puppy.

It feels nice.

Even after the ache in his lungs eases up, Noct stays there, just petting his hair.

Noct cries, but Prompto doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Noct stays the night.

He’s red-eyed and miserable, face puffy, and when Ignis comes to collect him at the end of the evening, he refuses to be moved.

The bed’s big enough for the both of them – the benefits of being holed up in the Citadel, instead of a hospital – and when the coughing wakes him, Noct’s there to rub his back while he works through it and press a cup of water into his hands when he’s done.

The coughing’s not so bad, though. He feels better than he has in a long time, that night.

In the morning, when he wakes, Noct’s arms are twined around him.

===

The new x-rays come back, and Prompto stares down at them.

He stares up at the doctor.

“What?” he says, dumbly.

“The growth receded sixty-five percent,” says the doctor. “In the past two days. We think it may be a reaction to the new medication you’re on.”

He’s aware of Noct at his side, a warm weight against him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers twined through his own.

Prompto cries, but Noct doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Within a week, the x-rays show that his lungs are clear. Within two weeks, for the first time in years, he can take a full breath again without any pain.

He can get out of bed again and walk across a room. He goes a full 24 hours without coughing once.

When his mother makes it back from Accordo, he’s well enough to launch himself at her and cling, as hard as he can. She presses kisses into his hair, and promises that his father will be home next week, and rocks him the way she used to do when he was very small.

===

It’s afternoon, and the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold.

Prompto’s off bed rest, finally; they’re hanging out at Noct’s place, eating popcorn and playing video games.

The scoreboard in 2 Fast 4 You is still up on the TV, showcasing how he just crashed a sleek red car into hundreds of cheering spectators, but suddenly Prompto’s attention is somewhere else. His gaze wanders from the screen to the window – to the way the light catches the dust motes in the air at just the right angle, turning them to liquid gold.

“Hey,” says Prompto. “C'mere a minute.”

He grabs Noct by the hand – drags him onto the balcony of his apartment. They take seventeen selfies, most with dumb faces, some very few actually decent. Insomnia stretches out behind them, buildings glinting glass and steel, cars no bigger than ants.

When Prompto leans over to show Noct the shots, their shoulders press together. He’s suddenly, painfully aware of how close they’re standing.

Noct’s face is bare inches from his own.

Noct’s lips are parted, just a little.

Noct leans down to kiss him, and in the instant before their lips touch, Prompto just has time to think how lucky he is.

#Promptis #ffxv #final fantasy xv #Prompto #noctis #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #prompto argentum #Noctis Lucis Caelum #drabble

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rationalsanskar · 5 years ago

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How to Achieve Mindfulness Without Having to Actually Meditate

In 1977, Roald Dahl published a lesser-known collection of short stories called The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six . The titular tale is about a beleaguered British billionaire who finds peace (and eventually, fantastical powers) by learning to calm his brain with a variety of techniques. One such method involves focusing intensely on a single image in the brain for a long period of time.

In the book, Sugar manages to picture an orange for more than 10 minutes. I can remember putting my dog-eared copy down and trying my best to do the same. When that failed after eight or nine hopeless seconds, I thought of apples, blueberries, pears. No luck. Each time, memories from earlier in the week or stresses about the upcoming one managed to invade my brain and tear me from the moment.

Fast-forward a couple decades, and whenever I try to sit down tomeditate — yoga mat, dimly lit room, relaxing music, a scented candle or two — I still think of this failed fourth-grade experiment. Formal attempts at proper, popular meditation often end prematurely for me, with my mind whirring like the wheel of death on an old Dell desktop. I think about interviews I have to schedule, flights I have to book, contact lenses I have to order. Eventually, I call it, thinking Damn, didn’t work. After these “failures” I’m less likely to attempt meditation again; ironically, I now associate the practice with stress.

This isn’t uncommon. According to a 2016 study, only 12% of American adults practice meditation, a number that nonetheless represents a 50% increase from earlier in the decade. That uptick has coincided with an ever-growing wellness industry that includes functional exercise, apps and products that encourage embracing the present, from mat Pilates to Calm to the Wave meditation system.

But that number’s still low, and the difficulty surrounding the practice is a prevailing reason why. In order to achieve mindfulness — the practice of paying attention to one’s thoughts and sensations in a particular moment — people assume they need to first create a perfect environment. Noise at a minimum, pleasant scents and legs crossed, with enlightenment just a few deep breaths out of reach. This line of thinking, though, ascribes too much importance to the activity. It’s self-defeating, like punching a pillow in anger while trying to fall asleep. Traditional meditation may indeed work well for many, but if it doesn’t do it for you, there are other ways to achieve mindfulness.

Think of activities in your life that erase hours from the clock. The ones you look forward to, or perhaps the ones you don’t think much about at all. They come, they go, but by the end of it all you feel measurably more relaxed. These activities can be considered “backdoors” to mindfulness. They’re inherently meditative, because you derive the same benefits from them that might come from 10 good minutes spent picturing an orange.

Below, we’ve assembled seven different activities that have been known to universally encourage elements of mindfulness. Importantly, we chose pursuits that an overwhelming majority of human beings can participate in at the drop of a hat. Surfing big waves, practicing magic tricks or playing the French horn may help you achieve mindfulness, and walking a dog may get you there too (assuming you’ve got one), but these examples are inclusive and easily incorporated into the mornings, afternoons and evenings of just about anyone.

Cooking

The future of on-demand food ordering is absolutely insane: the industry is projected to rake in a whopping $365 billion in revenue by 2030. Why? Millennials buy fewer groceries than older generations, and devote just 13 minutes a day to meal prep. I can identify. Three nights a week, I’ll bring some sort of $13 grab-and-go market bowl back for dinner. I often think of it as a chore handled, and an opportunity to watch TV the second I enter my apartment, fork shoved firmly into my mouth as I do. But I’ve noticed that on days I cook up a meal, however simple (I’m a big fan of shrimp mixed with rice and veggies), I’m able to go on a rare, much-appreciated, end-of-day autopilot. Heat the pan, prepare the rice, wash the veggies, cut and season the shrimp — I’ll generally perform these tasks with music on, while talking to my roommate or in silence, the only sound the gentle sizzle of the cooking food.

There’s an exact phrase for this experience: behavioral activation. It refers to a positive activity that necessitates presence of mind. Cooking requires decisions from your brain, motor skills from your body and an end goal that can fill your brain with a feeling of accomplishment. Plus, cutting and tearing are proven methods for handling a tough day, while the recipes can be both comforting and expected, or unusual and creative. Either way, they demand your attention, and will keep you looking at the pan, instead of your emails.

Water Therapy

The restorative effects of cold-water immersion are well-documented at this point. From ice baths to plunge pools to Scottish showers, the practice has near magical benefits for the body. It catalyzes post-workout recovery, staves off injury, lowers blood pressure, increases metabolic rate and stimulates the immune system. But there is mindfulness in freezing your butt off, too, believe it or not. You’re outside in nature, for starters, which we know does wonders for mental health. And cold water encourages the release of neurotransmitters like dopamine, adrenaline, norepinephrine and serotonin, all of which have anti-depressive effects.

I jumped into the North Sea a few days ago, when air temperatures were hovering around 30°F, and can assure you that I wasn’t thinking about anything but exactly how my body felt in that exact moment. It hijacks your afternoon, in a good way; I took a long, hot shower afterwards, and then felt alert and alive for a good six hours. On the other, less-Bear-Grylls end of the spectrum, lounging into warm water or having a bath at the end of the day are other forms of highly effective “water therapy” which should march you one step closer to mindfulness.

Journaling

According to a team of researchers from Princeton University and UCLA, those who take notes on computers are less likely to summarize and retain information than those who take notes with their hands. The study (and others like it) has long been cited as a reason to save handwriting: save a lost art while boosting our memory! But handwriting’s effectiveness also extends into the realm of another mindful activity: journaling. A nightly commitment to putting pen on paper will add special significance to your days; what’s remembered as banal or unspectacular two months later might’ve actually been exciting or unusual at the time, and you’ll have the notes to prove it. On top of making you a better handwriter, it will make you a better writer, period, and it will happen in an arena that’s rhythm, old-timey and devoid of stress-inducing blue light. In case you have no desire to catalogue your own life — find writing prompts online. Scribble nonsense. Sometimes, when I finish writing for 10 minutes or so, I wake up as if from a drunken trance. It’s a lovely feeling.

Adult Recess

When you’re a kid, there are times that your parents, needing an afternoon to wash dishes, pay bills and do other real-world-things, will order you to “go play.” It’s a typical childhood exultation, and from a young age, we oblige. We pick up branches and have stick fights. We “run the bases.” We invent games on trampolines and whack each other with styrofoam noodles. But somewhere along the way, play stops. For some medical professionals, the lack of play among adults is public health issue. Dr. Stuart Brown, who founded the National Institute for Play, explains that play is instrumental to optimism and self-motivation, while fostering a sense of belonging and community with others.

Unfortunately, it’s long been difficult for the average individual to find play in the adult world — let alone the heaping helping of mindfulness it delivers. Adults are an insular bunch, and those that do join groups often do so for competition. (Think: weekend warriors in intramural leagues.) But in the last few years, more groups have come about that prioritize the relaxation involved with simply running around. From DC to San Francisco to Greensboro, more cities are starting “adult recess” leagues, where the stakes are low and you’re free to think about nothing but throwing or kicking a ball for 90 minutes — with drinks often on the docket afterward.

Running

I’ve written about my return to running in the last couple months, after a six-year break. For years, I associated the activity with stress, expectation and pre-race nervous pees, but my recent reentry to the tribe has been calm and easy. I feel an appreciation now for the ways in which both pain (mile repeats on a track along Manhattan’s East River) and wonder (tripping up snow-covered hills on the outskirts of Edinburgh) seem to remove me entirely from the world of 9-5. I don’t need a scientific study to confirm the inherent meditative qualities of running, though there are many. Runs with destinations, runs that meander, runs desperate to hit a certain time — they’re all about the sweaty, heaving present. That state of being is usually a struggle, but it can be euphoric, and that’s why we do it. You should do it, too.

Live Music

A massive trend in the mindfulness space is the composition of music specifically geared for achieving calm. They can be lovely, and I can mellow into them easily, but they’re often too ethereal and not very sustainable. Who can listen to that stuff for 45 minutes? I contend that mindfulness can also be found in the General Admission section at a concert, or in a booth at an Irish pub that brings some Van Morrison sound-alike out every Tuesday evening. Live music is effortless presence of mind, especially when we leave our phones in our pockets. It represents a deviation from the norm (very few of us experience live music every day), which heightens the importance of the moment and your concentration relative to other earthly concerns. And it often rewards your ossicles with a series of mini-eargasms, which is nice.

Home and Garden

One of the surest signs that you’ve become an adult — aside from a strange desire to receive socks over the holidays — is that you actually enjoy performing household chores. I get giddy when I have a solid two hours to push my vacuum around, make the kitchen sparkle and point a hose at the gutters. Similar to the behavioral activation associated with cooking, busying about a home or apartment offers tasks and results, concentration and satisfaction. They’re an exhilarating change of pace from the mind-numbing practices of day-to-day work in a sedentary society. After a week of sitting at a computer, I will gladly Lysol the hell out of a coffee table. And I can’t remember ever thinking about much while I’m doing it. Not to mention — there are endless opportunities to personalize and perfect a space, from DIY projects to caring for plants, that will also transport you to a relaxing place far, far away.

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fadedtoblue · 7 years ago

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Recap of the Defenders panel at SDCC, pt. 2 (aka just a beat by beat recap of episode 1...)

If you missed, it you can catch part 1 here. I’m sure you can find videos of the panel out now, but if you wanted my additional commentary, there you go, haha :).

I’ve been writing bits and pieces of this since Friday night, so needless to say, I’m starting to get a little fuzzy on the order of the scenes and specifics b/c I was in such a state of shock while watching (and I don’t get the benefit of rewatching it right away 10 times in a row, lol), but I’ll try to recollect as much as possible, as best I can. I’ll also share some of my opinions and theories at the very end.

Some brief, non-spoilery thoughts: This was definitely a set up episode for everything that is to come, so as much as I know everyone wants answers to certain questions, you’re just not going to get to them right away. The show doesn’t hesitate to pick up the threads left from each individual series though, so don’t expect it to be slow at all. They also did a lovely job making each Defenders’ scenes look and feel like their own shows, while still bringing them all together into a new kind of feel and style for The Defenders. I was impressed by that. Anyway, if you have any more general questions, feel free to send me an ask or note.

And now...I shouldn’t have to say this, but just in case...HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE DEFENDERS UNDER THE CUT! (Apologies for any mistakes, I wrote too much and just want to get it posted rather than spending even more time editing!)

Opening scene:

Very first scene opens in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. An unnamed man is being chased by a woman in black wielding double katanas and shrouded in darkness down some sort of sewer-like corridor, exchanging blows, and the man is clearly getting overwhelmed in the fight. Before she can land the killing stroke, Danny appears out of the darkness and jumps into the fight to draw the woman away. Danny is holding his own, but the woman is clearly a superior fighter, and lands a nice slice across Danny’s tattoo; in his shock, the woman gets the opening she needs and stabs the mystery man to death. Danny tries to chase down the woman, who is running away, and manages to land one Iron fist-packed punch on her, which sends her flying, but she disappears as quickly as she appeared. When Danny returns to the man, Colleen is with him, and we see that he’s clearly dying. After a bit of back and forth, the man tells them that their fight is not there, it’s in New York. Very mysterious, and Danny is extremely frustrated. This has apparently been one of their biggest leads in their search for the Hand, and just like that, he’s gone. Also, it’s pretty obvious this woman is Elektra, and the most impressive thing was how much her fighting skills had supernaturally improved. A small hint at the power of the Black Sky! (Note: there’s really no hint as to who this guy could be, and I originally assumed maybe he was affiliated with the Hand, like Bakuto’s faction or something? But the end credits mention Shaft, who was announced as a character on the show, and plays a big role in the Chaste, so that’s an interesting tie in!)

Opening credit sequence:

New song and graphic styles, I really can’t recall now, but think the instrumental had a kind of synth-y vibe. The backgrounds are basically outlined, lit up, 3-D maps of New York, but they form each of the different characters in their main color palette. It’s super cool. The names on the credits also utilize an effect on certain letters to make it look like a subway line design (i.e. Charlie Cox’s name has a C in a circle). It’s a cute touch and really drives the whole “New York is the fifth Defender!” thing home.

Okay, this is where the order of these scenes gets a little iffy in my head, not to mention we do switch between the characters pretty often this episode...I think I’m fairly clear on the details themselves though! I’ll basically try to summarize everyone’s scenes in one go and then summarize the closing act on its own!

Jessica Jones:

Jessica is (surprise, surprise!) passed out drunk in an empty bar and gets rudely awakened by the bartender, who helpfully informs her that it’s morning and she should probably get out of his bar. Next, we see Trish is running across the street to keep her car from getting towed, but the cop is an ass and refuses to unhook it. Suddenly, we see the car get pulled off by an inexplainable force! Turns out it’s Jessica, who snarkily asks the cop if he has a problem, and Trish has trouble holding back a smile. Now we see Trish and Jessica walking down the street with coffee cups and fighting over Jessica’s life state post-Kilgrave, one that involves a lot of drinking and zero working, which greatly concerns Trish. Trish lets Jessica know that she’s been getting a lot of interest in her story and wants Jessica to take some interviews, if only to make some extra money while she’s not working. Trish says something to the affect of, only you (Jessica) could take a personal triumph and turn it into despair, or something like that. Jessica tries to tell her not to worry. Trish takes a sip of her coffee and nearly spits it out -- turns out Jesica had handed her coffee to Trish and Trish finds out the coffee has whiskey. This got a pretty good laugh during the screening :). Jessica is then shown walking down the hallway to her apartment -- the window is boarded up and clearly hasn’t been fixed since JJ S1. There are two people standing outside the door as she approaches, a woman who seems well-dressed and pulled together, and her teenage daughter, who is snarky and disdainful toward Jessica. The mom heard about what Jessica did and wants her to take a case -- her husband has been missing for a week -- and Jessica flat out says no. As the woman presses her case, Jessica goes into mocking mode, and suggests that everyone thinks THEIR partner would never do anything like this, but usually they’re always cheating. The daughter lobs a few snarky comments at Jessica and the mom, and finally the two of them leave. Jessica seems to have a moment of remorse as she’s opening the door, turns around, and calls out to them. The woman turns around hopefully but Jessica only says that she hopes they can find him soon. The inside of Jessica’s apartment is still absolutely trashed from all of the Luke / Kilgrave stuff from S1 -- part of the scenes are shot through the hole in the wall, which is hilarious. She gets a phone call, and someone using a voice scrambler warns her not to take the case. Dun dun dun! We know what that means!!

Later on, you see Jessica sitting at her desk with her laptop open, using her expert Googling skills to learn more about missing mystery man. At this point, Malcolm strolls in, which pisses Jessica off -- she’s already told him to stop coming into her apartment, he says she gave him a key, she counters that he made himself his own copy of the key, he helpfully clarifies because he was helping her get her locks changed, banter banter banter. I want to know that Malcolm has beefed up a lot for this show. It was noticeable lol. He immediately notices she’s on her computer and absolutely lights up, asking whether she’s taken on a case? She insists she hasn’t taken it...yet, and he’s basically celebrating that she’s totally taken the case and runs over to hover over her shoulder while she’s researching, which pisses her off. They talk briefly about the guy who’s missing, and Jessica mentions that the only reason why she’s even doing this is because she got a call from someone using a voice scrambler who doesn’t want her to look into it, but surely they covered their tracks and won’t want to be found. At which point Malcolm posits the possibility that the guy is actually an amateur, and what if she could track the call back? So Jessica pulls a Jessica and calls the operator, pretending that she received a call from her grandfather who is missing from dementia and gets the number. They find the address the number is connected to, which Malcolm immediately recognizes as a super shady neighborhood that people generally used to get off the grid to use drugs, etc.

Jessica shows up at the building Malcolm helped her identify. Inside, it looks and sounds sketchy as hell -- flickering lights, sounds of people fighting and/or having sex, a real ball. She heads up the stairs to the specific apartment she seems to have identified as the exact location of the call. She bangs on the door, telling him (I assume she thinks it’s James -- the husband -- hiding out in there) that the landlord / someone already told her he’s inside. After getting no response, she does her patented doorknob breaking move (the scene we saw in the first trailer) and goes in. There’s a TV on, but the place is otherwise dim and abandoned. She slowly walks through, peeking into the bedroom and rounding back out to the living area. She spots some boxes, opens one up and inside is either weapons or explosives (I’m leaning toward the latter) -- the camera paused on it for a quick few seconds and I didn’t absorb the writing as thoroughly as I’d like, but it’s obviously something really bad.

Luke Cage:

We start out with the scene of him walking down the jail corridor, while the inmates cheer him on. It’s not super clear in the beginning, but we soon discover that Luke had his charges cleared, thanks to the excellent lawyering provided by one MR. FOGGY NELSON, who is clean shaven and sporting a very short haircut (gotta look the part at those big firms I guess!). Luke asks for Claire, but Foggy tells him only lawyers are allowed. Luke decides it’s time to hop on a bus and get back to New York ASAP. Before he leaves, Foggy gives him his business card and lets him know he can always reach out if he ever needs help starting over. Luke assures him he doesn’t need to start over, just need to move forward. Foggy helpfully lets him know that most people call him Foggy, to which Luke quips: “And you let them?” which earns a great laugh from the room :).

Now you see Luke on his bus ride back to NYC, and this scene is basically just the same scene in the first trailer with him looking out the window and seeing things like Pop’s barbershop as he drives by. He gets off the bus (which is plastered with a New Harlem Renaissance ad, so you can assume Mariah is still going at it) somewhere in Harlem and as the camera pans out, you see Ms. Claire Temple looking like her damn fine self, leaning against the wall, waiting for his return. They end up back at her apartment and immediately rock that cup of coffee, like wow, it was...physical hahaha. Think overturning furniture, going at it all over the place, I’ll admit to being slightly concerned for Claire b/c damn Luke is a strong guy, but she seemed like she was having a good time lol. In the trailer I thought they were leaning against a headboard - nope, it’s a table turned over on its side on the floor, haha. They have a nice chat afterwards, mostly focusing on what Luke might do now that he’s back in New York. He calls Claire out a little bit, saying that he knows she kept some things from him in the letters they exchanged while he was away. She confesses a lot of things happened and are still going on in the city, and she’s concerned about Luke trying to be a hero (cue the dialogue from trailer #1). At this point, there’s a knock on the door, and it’s...Misty! She’s bemused to see Luke at Claire’s place so quickly after being let out, and asks if he can take a walk down the street with her.

They exchange some small talk, apparently Misty has been made head of some sort of city-wide initiative, which is probably how they’ll take her out of Harlem and into some of the other neighborhoods in the Netflix Marvel world. They end up at a burnt out car that’s decorated with flowers, and Misty explains: there’s been a rash of somewhat unexplained deaths that bear striking similarities -- all young men from Harlem, who were recently employed at some sort of mystery job, moved their moms out of Harlem and into nice houses in what I presume is a more gentrified neighborhood of New York, but end up dead under mysterious circumstances. It could be drug running or it could be something more nefarious -- Misty doesn’t know. Luke wants to help, which Misty reacts to with skepticism (she makes a “Really? I’m going to send the guy who just got out of lockup?” kind of joke) but she mentions that this particular memorial is actually for the brother of Candace Miller, who died in LC S1. Apparently she had two brothers, so Misty tasks Luke to track down the last brother, who she last heard wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law, and talk some sense into him before the mother of that family loses her last child.

Luke heads over to the apartment building of the third brother, another interior with flashing lights, except this time with loud music. Luke encounters a group of guys in front of an apartment and asks them where he can find “insert brother’s name here b/c I honestly can’t remember it out” -- they’re about to snap at him for interrupting them and realize it’s Luke Cage, at which points their jaws snap shut and they direct him one floor up. Luke lets himself into the apartment, sees the brother, and walks up to an expensive looking speaker set up to turn down / off the music. The brother angrily exclaims, thinking that his friends are messing with his equipment and is surprised to see it’s Luke. Luke says he’s here to pay his respects, and the two have a conversation in which the brother pretty much stubbornly refuses to listen or provide any information on his brother who just died. Luke notices that for a kid between jobs, he seems to have some pretty nice things (the music / speaker system, spacious apartment, really nice shoe collection) and asks if he might have taken on the same job his brother had before he died. The boy is silent, Luke says something wise, and then leaves.

Matt Murdock:

His scene opens in his apartment, focused on some sort of Braille printer? Matt is practicing an argument for an upcoming case as the pages print off. Suddenly, he catches on the sound of someone getting mugged and you see him going into Daredevil mode and hearing the situation unfold -- Matt is visibly tensing and literally willing his body not to rush off. As he’s listening, he also hears the police approaching and containing the situation. He untenses his body and resumes practicing his speech. At this point, we switch immediately to the courtroom, where Matt is grilling a man on the stand. I couldn’t exactly follow what the incident was and what product the man’s company made, but whatever it was, it was responsible for injuring a young boy, putting him in a wheelchair. Matt is really in his element and manages to pin the executive on the stand into a corner and goes in for the kill. Then we are suddenly outside the courtroom, actually in the same courthouse we were in for the Castle trial, and the news media is there -- Matt won the case and the family of the boy who was injured were awarded $11 mil. The parents of the boy walk ahead to talk to the reporters, while the boy, sitting in the wheelchair, hangs back. Matt has a really lovely scene here when he steps back to talk to the boy, who is clearly having a hard time adjusting to his new circumstances, and gives him a Matt Murdock pep talk about handling adversity and very specifically, coming to terms with a life changing injury (wish I could share more of what he says, but I just can’t remember it and don’t want to butcher it!! It was good though). It does seem to get through to the kid, who then goes back to join his family during their little hallway press conference.

Matt turns around, and we see Karen, who was in the courtroom covering the case for the Bulletin. Karen congratulates Matt on winning the case and is complimentary toward him and what he did in the room. I think Matt also mentions Karen’s work as a journalist and she does her aw shucks Karen thing. She mentions that she needs a quote from him for the story she’s writing, and suggests that maybe they do it over a drink or a bite to eat, which Matt seems surprised at, but agrees to. (This suggests to me that they really haven’t spoken much, since the end of S2 reveal, though they’ve likely crossed paths politely since then.)

Matt and Karen are sitting in a diner, and while the atmosphere is a little awkward, it’s still friendly. They exchange some small talk about their jobs -- Karen asks Matt about his lawyering and I think this is where Matt reveals he’s doing pro bono work, although it’s possible he mentions it at the courthouse, and Karen talks about how she really feels like this is what she’s meant to do. She lowers her voice a bit and asks Matt whether he’s missed being Daredevil. He basically lies and says no. That he doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t miss it either. Karen seems to be satisfied with that response. She has a whole line about how she really feels like they needed some time to figure themselves out and it sounds like she believes that both her and Matt are in better places now than they were before. She mentions she’s been covering the police beat and she really thinks the police are doing a good job handling the crime, at which Matt cracks a bit of a cynical smile, so maybe he actually did it...he was the hero this city needed and now they don’t need him anymore. But she thinks that right now the city needs more of Matt Murdock, and btw, she still needs that quote, and that’s just about how the scene ends. Very friendly.

EDIT!!! Didn’t realize a huge chunk of Matt’s section was missing from this recap. Damn it Tumblr, you’ve eaten parts of this post like 5 times already. This re-recap will be a bit of a rush job, sorry! Anyway, after the meeting with Karen, Matt goes to find Father Lanthom for confession. He says it’s been three days since his last confession, which suggests to me that he’s been going consistently, and often. He initially brings up the meeting with Karen, and talks about feeling bad about lying to her about not missing being Daredevil. In order to remain transparent, I will say he did use language to refer to Karen as someone he loves, but the impression didn’t come off as romantic, but more out of friendship / deeply caring for her. I really do believe he is sincere in wanting to become friends again. And nothing about the diner meeting or the conversation here feels like it’s moving toward anything more than trust building, which Matt already kind of fails at since he lies to her face there. Anyway, this part of the conversation didn’t last for very long since Lanthom takes the temperature on the situation and immediately gets to the heart of what’s bothering Matt, which I won’t bother recapping b/c you can see it in the scene below:

youtube

Danny Rand:

Since Danny was such a big part of the opening scene, he doesn’t get a traditional intro scene like the rest of the defenders in the first act of the episode, so after we’ve touched base with all of the Defenders, we bounce back into his story and find him flying back to New York on his jet with Colleen. It starts with him, alone in the bathroom, and this is where we get that dramatic scene of him wiping the mirror from the trailer. There’s little bit of editing trickery here, as he notices some weird blood splatters on the wall behind him, and he goes from the mirror to tearing off a piece of the wall? Or pushing aside some sort of curtain? And we segue seamlessly into Danny walking into some sort of eerie, abandoned hallway, all torn and tattered. We quickly notice the hallway floor is covered in bloody bodies, bodies of the dead K’un Lun monks. He passes through another doorway and there’s a whole group of them, standing in formation, covered in blood and staring down at him accusingly. He is clearly overwhelmed and confused, and turns around, only to see himself, dressed in robes and looking serious. He says something to real Danny (again, sorry about being spotty on the actually lines), which prompts real Danny to basically breakdown screaming. At this point we hear Colleen in the background, shaking him awake from what’s obviously a nightmare. She tries to get him to talk about the screaming, which he tries to shrug off as turbulence terrors, but she’s not buying it. They talk about the man they hunted down in Cambodia and it’s clear that he’s feeling guilty about his death, and is still feeling guilty about the not being at K’un Lun to protect his city. Colleen insists that it’s not his fault, but Danny remains unconvinced. Danny and Colleen return to the city and are taking a helicopter ride over the city. They’re holding hands. She’s marveling at the view and they’re discussing home -- New York is basically Colleen’s home but for Danny, even though he grew up here, he still doesn’t know if this is his home.

Alexandra:

Our introduction to Sigourney’s antagonist Alexandra lacks any bombast or fanfare, but you definitely feel...unsettled in a lot of her scenes. We first see her in some sort of nondescript building, and she’s waiting for an appointment, looking classy af. A person comes up and leads her to a really bare, empty room, and asks Alexandra to change into a patient’s gown. The nurse brings her out of the room and to a larger room with a CAT scan machine. The doctor greets her warmly but has bad news for her, which she seems to be expecting -- her red? white? blood cell count is precipitously low and her body’s organs are starting to shut down. She asks what the doctor is going to do about it, and he says there isn’t anything they can really do, which is an answer that clearly doesn’t satisfy her (“That’s not what I asked.”). When she asks how long she has, he guesstimates around a few months.

youtube

Edit: Embedded the released preview clip that corresponds with the below scene :)

We see Alexandra again in what I assume is Central Park (sorry guys, I don’t know NY!), sitting on a bench and feeding the pigeons. Again, she looks amazing. Madame Gao (woohoo!) comes into frame and says she thought she’d find her here, it’s always been her favorite spot. Alexandra muses about how surprised she is this place hasn’t already been razed to the ground and replaced with high rise buildings, she remembers when it used to be forest. She starts into a mini history lesson about New York City and how the Dutch bought it for 24 dollars -- then she drops a burn -- it was 24 dollars too much. She delivers it with such classy disdain, I love it. There’s also a hint of “Hey I was here when this happened” which tracks nicely with the hints Gao has given about her longevity / immortality...clearly Alexandra has quite a history herself. Anyway, they move onto discussion of more important things, like nefarious evil plans? Madame Gao updates Alexandra about some part of this plan and says in a few months they should be ready to make their move. Alexandra quickly shuts this down, which seems to take Madame Gao by surprise. Instead, Alexandra wants to make her move now, which Gao tries to talk her out of -- she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, they still need more time, etc etc -- but knowing what we know about Alexandra’s updated life expectancy, she obviously can’t afford to wait to make her move. At the very end of this scene, Alexandra quite flippantly tosses her bag of bird seed at Gao and orders her to finish feeding the birds. So there’s a really obvious and interesting power dynamic here...whoever Alexandra is, she’s quite used to calling the shots!

The last scene we have with Alexandra takes place after all of the scenes from the other characters, and on some sort of fancy rooftop -- it’s the one from the trailer, and I think it might be the same one Gao met with Fisk in S1? I’m not 100%. Gao lets her know that things have begun, which seems to please Alexandra greatly. And at this point, we start to see what exactly that plan is.

Closing scene:

It starts out with a rumble, almost like mild earthquake tremors. Matt is back at home after his confession with Lanthom, and his apartment is bathed in red. When the shaking starts, he freezes almost seems like he’s not sure what to do. The shaking intensifies, dust and debris flying off, and he seems actually scared at this point, kind of crouching over and covering his head. Jessica, in the mystery apartment she’s tracked down, is also looking around in a mixture of confusion, fear, and WTF as everything shakes around her. In the streets, you see huge tremors and rows of cars being propelled upwards with some sort of strange force before slamming back into the ground. At the memorial for Candace’s mother, you see her standing outside of the car and looking around in shock as the city shakes around her. A streetlamp breaks and starts to fall, but Luke appears and immediately bears the weight of the falling lamp and pushes it back up and away from her. Danny and Colleen have just gotten off the helicopter, unaware of what’s going on on the ground, but in just a few moments as they walk off the landing pad, the ground cracks beneath them and between them.

As everything crumbles outside, Alexandra calmly turns from the edge of the rooftop and walks over to Elektra in the black cloak, and says that iconic line, “It’s just a city. You’ll get used to watching them fall.”

And basically while the city is falling apart and all of our heroes are like WTF, the episode ends. I know, we were really disappointed lol.

Interesting things of note:

There’s a little scene transition device they employed, at least for the first episode, as you go into a scene for a specific character -- it was sort of a quick-cut style with visual snippets and ambient sounds and slightly colorized for each Defender. I haven’t watched Jessica Jones since it first aired, but it reminded me of that show. Not too surprising because the director for the first 2 episodes of Defenders is the same director who did JJ!

I wrote the heading for this section 2 days ago so while I may have had interesting thoughts then, I certainly don’t now, sorry lol!

#the defenders #marvel's the defenders #the defenders panel #sdcc 2017 #the defenders spoilers #the defenders 1x01 #matt murdock #elektra natchios #jessica jones #luke cage #danny rand #colleen wing #madame gao #my thoughts #text #p talks about stuff #mine

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 8 years ago

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If We Only Tried, Chapter 2: You Might Really See Me

Finally returning to this Luke x Lorelai fic thanks to a special request by @actuallylukedanes. Happy birthday!!

Summary: Spring cleaning and reminiscing, with a touch of mutual ogling. There were some things you just didn’t do with your close male friends, and getting trapped alone together without a change of clothes and then letting them use your shower was now officially on that list.

Crossposted on AO3, more notes there.

“Okay, what do you want to watch?”

Luke’s blank stare was priceless. “Whatever you want to watch is fine.”

“Come on, you’re not in the mood for anything specific?”

“No musicals.”

“Deal. But I mean really, Luke. We’ve got, like, all the movies. Cheesy, sappy, fight-y...pick your poison.”

He sighed. “Okay, suspense.”

“Ooh!” Lorelai’s face lit up. “Nice. Rory never goes for suspense first. Let’s see...”

She turned away to dig through a pile of DVDs until she pulled one out triumphantly. “Rear Window. What do you say?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.” She handed him the DVD. “Put this in, would you? I’ll get the popcorn.”

She disappeared while he shouted after her, facing the TV. “Popcorn? What popcorn? We searched your entire kitchen yesterday and there was no popcorn there.”

Offering him a grin, Lorelai returned, snacks in hand. “No, you’re right, there’s not. But I do have some, I forgot until just now. It was in my underwear drawer."

“Why was it in--” Luke held up his hands. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, and look on the bright side. Now it can be lunch and we’ll have the choice of pizza or burgers for dinner.”

“Yum.” He looked queasy, and she felt the briefest pang of guilt for not being the kind of person who stocked salad. Then she brushed it off, because who would eat the salad on all the normal days when Luke wasn’t trapped in her house with her?

After coaching him on the movie night rules, and pouting when he blatantly broke all of them, Lorelai settled in. It was weird watching a movie with Luke, Taciturn Guy--but also fun.

When he did have a comment, it was usually perceptive, with a heavy dose of snark. And then she would have to argue against his point, which made watching the movie take longer, but it was worth it to see him get all flustered.

She enjoyed him flustered.

“I still say it doesn’t make any sense,” Luke protested over the rolling credits. “First things first, if you think a guy is a murderer, you don’t just let him--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorelai cut him off as she left the couch. “I get it already. The psychological thriller isn’t perfectly logical. It’s a movie, Luke. It’s allowed to be a little ridiculous.”

“Not if it wants me to take it seriously.”

“Grump.”

“Hey, you asked.”

“Actually I didn’t,” she replied over her shoulder, foraging in the kitchen for more crackers. Hungry enough, they weren’t so bad.

“You invited my opinion when you wouldn’t shut up about yours,” he argued.

“Well, mine is right.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, what do you want to do now?” She stared out the kitchen window at the heaps of snow and shook her head. “It’s barely lunchtime.”

“Honestly, I’d like to start putting this place back together. All your piles of crap are giving me nightmares of you dead underneath them.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned at the table, covered in old dishes and infomercial cookery that she’d bought when Rory was little and never bothered to use again. “You want to help me spring clean?”

“Well, ‘want to’ might be overstating it a little. I want something to do, and I desperately want your house not to look like this anymore.” He waved a hand at the debris. “So, yeah, I guess.”

Snacking, she weighed the privacy violation of him sifting through her stuff against the benefits of it actually getting done, and didn’t have to think for long. After all, Luke was already in the middle of her life. What didn’t he know that could surprise him among her junk drawers?

“Okay, let’s do it. We can start here,” she decided. “The kitchen will be easy since it’s not very sentimental.”

“Really.” Luke didn’t sound convinced. “Not this set of baby spoons? Or the duck-shaped measuring cups?”

“Oh, well, those stay. Obviously.” She shot him a grin.

“See? Everything is sentimental with you.” He sighed and prepared to dive into battle over every chipped plate.

****

“Oh, Luke, look!” Lorelai pulled a sheet of blue poster-board out of the closet and handed it to him. “Isn’t it great?”

“It’s...something.” He peered at the careful lettering until he understood it. “Oh, hey, I know what this is.”

“Rory’s class project.” Lorelai sat on the floor next to the closet, and took it back from him to study. “How she agonized over this. Everything had to be just right. The marker color, the letter spacing, the straightness of the lines.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s Rory.”

“Yeah, but she was twelve!” Lorelai met his fond smile with her own. “And then she nearly had a breakdown in the last few weeks when she couldn’t get half the information she needed.”

“Yeah,” Luke said thoughtfully. “I remember.”

Surprised, Lorelai dragged her eyes away from the project. “You do?”

“Mm-hmm. She needed her dad’s side of the family tree and couldn’t get ahold of him. I never heard how you finally found him, by the way. She told me about the A she got on the project afterwards, that was it. What happened there?”

“Christopher,” Lorelai said simply, as though the name alone was an explanation.

“He’d dropped off the map again--he does that,” she pointed out. “Back then, we’d only just moved to Stars Hollow...we’d been living in Hartford, he’d visited us there, but not here. His number was disconnected. So we couldn’t expect to hear from him, we couldn’t go to him, and her assignment was to interview that side of her family just like mine.”

He leaned over to turn the family tree back around and appreciate how tidy--and complete--it was. “So, what did you do?”

“I went over his head.” Her smile was fierce, if a little brittle around the edges. “I went to my mother, who used her connections to get his parents’ information stretching way back. It was just easier.”

He knew how strained her relationship was with her parents in those days, and how nonexistent one was with Rory’s other grandparents. But he also knew it remained a raw wound in some ways, so he nodded as though the story were that simple. “That makes sense.”

Setting the paper aside, Lorelai smiled at him. “I can’t believe you remember that, though. What was it, seven years ago? And you barely knew Rory.”

“Maybe,” he replied easily. “But she made an impression. Just like her mother.”

Lorelai looked away. “Oh, now.”

“I mean it.” He wasn’t smirking anymore. “It was obvious as soon as you moved here, what a great kid Rory was, and what a great mom you had to be to make that happen.”

“No, Rory came out that way,” Lorelai argued. “I barely did a thing there.”

“Stop selling yourself short. Just imagine if Christopher had raised her,” he offered. “Or your mother.”

“Oh, god.” She grimaced. “I’m honestly not sure which picture is worse.” Visions of her little girl dying in a motorcycle crash or marrying a Stanford man at nineteen flashed before her eyes and made her shudder.

“See?”

“Yeah.” She accepted the implied compliment reluctantly. “Thanks, Luke.”

“Always happy to reintroduce reality to your world. Or try, anyway.” He blinked and looked past her to the stack of books at her side. “So how will you decide which of these to get rid of?”

“Oh, those stay.”

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

“You can’t possibly know that they all need to stay.”

“Why not?”

“You haven’t even looked at them.”

“Well, that’s the classics section. Celebrity memoirs, books on movies, kitschy books to put on the coffee table and dust off regularly. Every house needs those.”

“Okay, but when was the last time you read them?”

She quirked her lips at him, not answering, and that was all the answer he needed. “You have to get rid of some of these. Keep the books you actually use.”

Lorelai waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve got like twenty gardening books lying around here. We’ll get rid of all of those and call it even.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” He tried to rein in his exasperation. “You’re supposed to be decluttering. Which equals caring about what you use and don’t--not your relative amount of stuff.”

“Whoa, when did you become the Martha Stewart of home organization?” Lorelai poked him in the arm. “It’s fine if I don’t get rid of every useless thing I own. Let’s face it, that’s like eighty percent of what I own!”

“Fine.” On that, they could agree. “But if you’re not really going through your books, I’m going to leave you to it. Mind if I use your shower? That kitchen cabinet adventure was disgusting.”

“I had no idea the one under the sink was growing alien life!” She protested. “But yeah, go for it. I’ll be here.”

Flipping through a book about the Beatles that she was pretty sure she’d read to Rory as a baby, Lorelai realized that she’d forgotten to tell Luke where the towels were just as he was already in the shower. “Oh, crap.”

Also, whose clothes was he getting into after he cleaned himself up?

She headed upstairs, trying to be extra loud as a warning, before recognizing that the sound of the running water would mask her no matter what she did.

Lorelai knocked on her own bathroom door, feeling miserably awkward. There were some things you just didn’t do with your close male friends, and getting trapped alone together without a change of clothes and then letting them use your shower was now officially on that list.

“Hey, Luke?”

There was a pause, as though he wasn’t sure how to respond, any more than she was. “Yeah, hey.”

“Do you need something to wear? Or, I don’t know, a towel?”

“Found a towel,” he told her, his voice sounding strange through the door. “Hall closet. You think I don’t know where you keep stuff? I’ve fixed every part of your house, Lorelai.”

“Oh. Right.” Idiotic of her. “What about clothes?”

“I’m just going to get back in the ones I was wearing. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal,” she told him as she heard the water turn off. “The ones you were wearing came through the snowstorm, and then survived bio-warfare in my kitchen. I can find you something else.”

She could almost hear his frown, but he agreed more quickly than she expected. “Yeah, okay. I guess that would be good.”

“Good.” Triumphant, she thought it over. Best chance of success, her stash of ex-boyfriend clothes. Something of Max’s might fit him. “I’ll be right back. Then we can wash yours.”

“Even better.” He knew exactly where she’d be looking for clothes that would fit him. He didn’t have to like it, but it was practical for the moment.

She was back in two minutes, not having much to choose from, prepared to shove the clothes through a crack in the door and avert her eyes. Luke exited the bathroom before she got the chance.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the clothes and giving them a once-over before stepping back inside the bathroom--with nothing but a towel draped low around his waist, still damp all over from the shower.

When he shut the door behind himself again, Lorelai slumped against the wall to fan herself. Wow. Just...wow. That was what was hiding under those flannel shirts all this time?

I mean, sure, she knew he cleaned up nice, but that was compared to his usual baseball cap-burger flipping style. This was a whole new kind of surprise.

What other surprises was Luke hiding?

****

“Next room?” Luke asked once he was done dressing, damp hair curling behind his ears in a way that made her stare just a little too long.

“Lorelai?”

“Sorry.” She smiled, and with a shake of her head, came back to earth. “You really want to dive back into my mess?”

“Sure. Let’s just aim for a less toxic room this time.” He shrugged at her expression. “What else have we got to do except clean and watch movies all day? Unlike you, I’m not used to sitting on my butt for hours watching fake people live their lives.”

“My god, Luke, so dramatic.” Lorelai led the way to her bedroom, then grinned when she realized he was no longer with her and turned to find him hesitating outside the doorway. “You can cross the threshold. I promise, no garlic or crosses to be found here.”

“So I’m a vampire now?” His familiar scowl returned, but he followed her in.

“Well, I wasn’t sure. Why else would you be standing outside like you needed an invitation?” She sat on the only empty corner of her bed and surveyed the space where she’d successfully pulled out half of all her clothes to sort and downsize them.

“Jeez, this is a mess,” Luke said, evading the question. “How much of this stuff do you even wear?”

“Dunno.” Lorelai beamed up at him, pulling a random shirt off the nearest pile. “But does that really matter when the clothes are as awesome as this?”

“It’s got a tongue on it.”

“It’s vintage.”

“It’s old and it has a tongue on it. There is no way you will ever wear that again.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lorelai reached up and began taking off her long-sleeve shirt.

“Hey--” He started to panic before realizing that she was wearing a tank top underneath. She tugged the t-shirt down, beaming triumphantly. Luke’s mouth went dry, despite how hideous the shirt was. It barely fit, clinging tightly to all of Lorelai’s curves.

“What? Look, I’m wearing it.” She crossed her arms, eyes smirking, waiting for his argument, but it didn’t come.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Yeah, you are.”

“Nothing?” She tilted her head curiously. “Nothing about the tongue, or the frayed seams, or how I’m too old for t-shirts?”

Luke shut his reaction down hard and fast, knowing how perceptive she was when she focused. “Nope. Who am I to judge your fashion choices, anyway?”

Delight spread over her face--not the response he was expecting. He watched it happen, bemused.

“What a great idea! You are exactly the person who should judge my fashion choices!” She nudged him toward the bed, getting him to sit with a gentle shove.

“Huh?”

“New game.” She removed the t-shirt, Luke watching as it landed on the floor, then grabbed a pile of clothes from her closet floor and dumped them at his feet. “I have to sort through all my clothes, right? Decide what to keep, what to toss. Well, how better to utilize your willingness to help than with the always-in-style fashion show?”

“Fashion show.” He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or scared. You never knew with Lorelai.

“Yeah.” She became more excited about the idea the more she thought about it. “It’ll be way more fun than just sorting and piling to infinity, and it’ll give you a real role in the process. Since we both know all you can really do is make comments I’ll ignore anyway, at least this way, I’m giving you a chance to justify them.”

“This is bizarre.”

“Is that a vote against?”

Resigned, Luke shook his head. “No. Just an observation.”

“Great!” She grabbed a handful of items from the top of the pile and headed for her bathroom. “Stay right there. I’ll be right back to strut the catwalk.”

The terrible French accent she added to her words made him chuckle and remember the fashion show she’d walked in with her mother a few years back. He was still grinning at the memory of that when she came back in, wearing a pair of low-rise black jeans, a blue sequined top, and a pink sweater with feathers along the neckline.

She jutted out one hip. “Well, what do you think?”

“First of all, ow--my eyes.” He grimaced, and she frowned.

“No reason to be mean, you know.”

“Not mean. Honest. That sweater looks like a Valentine’s Day goose was killed for the sake of a very poor life choice. And sequins make anybody look like they should be in Vegas.”

“Fine.” She took off the sweater, apparently indifferent to its fate, and let it join the vintage tee. “What about the jeans?”

Without the sweater, some of her stomach was left exposed between the sequined shirt and the jeans. No part of him could honestly protest that.

“Uh, they’re good. The jeans are fine.”

“Huh. Cool. Thanks.” Pleasantly surprised, Lorelai selected her next offerings and offered him a grin. “Okay, gimme a sec.”

She practically skipped off, delighted by their new pastime, completely oblivious to Luke's realization that he'd just set himself up for an afternoon of slow torture in the form of bare skin and clinging fabric.

“No problem,” he said to the empty room. “I’ll be right here.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY!#actuallylukedanes #i love you so much #luke x lorelai #fanfic #i must admit this is more fluff than anything but so what :) they're just really fun to play with #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls fanfic #gilmore girls fic #luke x lorelai fic #luke x lorelai fanfic #luke x lorelai fanfiction #my fic #abw2017

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thehobbem · 8 years ago

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Write Me In C Major

So here’s my very first multi-chapter! You can also read it on AO3. Description: Victor Nikiforov has just won his fifth GP and Worlds gold medals and doesn't know where to go from here, but Katsuki Yuuri's music just might give him the inspiration he lacks. (It also doesn't hurt that Yuuri just so happens to be an adorable pole dancer.) Word Count: 4,749

Chris whistled, impressed.

“A new personal best, good for Mila! Think she’ll make the podium again?”

“With that score she has to” Victor answered. “What, you think she won’t?”

“I don’t know, that Crispino girl could give her a run for her money.”

“Hmm, true. She just might be the best jumper among them.”

The two skaters watched as Sara slid gracefully across the ice with a big confident smile on her face and her arms raised as if asking for more applause, which she immediately got from the audience. The whole place hushed into complete silence as she took her position; as soon as the first piano notes began to fill the air, her whole body seemed to ripple. Victor sat up a little straighter, his whole attention transfixed; they could talk about jumps and quads all day, but it was always the little things that caught his attention – the way someone stretched their arm or turned their heads, a clap, a snap, a smile. Sara was in perfect time with the music and every little nuance of the piece was accompanied by a little twist of a leg or a flutter of her hands. Those things could not single-handedly place a skater on a podium, but they did draw you further into their performance. And what was the whole point in performing if not that?

She moves like a sea nymph.

A sea nymph. Where had that come from? Belatedly, he realized the music had suggested it to him: it had such a… watery quality to it. The first notes had been like the gentle trickle of a fountain, but the piano had grown to a crescendo and it was like a waterfall now, note after note falling in cascades and washing over him. It evoked waves crashing against the rocks, only to fall back into a gurgling stream.

And while Sara charmed the world with her mermaid-like movement, Victor visualized a pair of hands flying over the piano keys - one hand clearly not aware of the other, each doing something completely different from the other, each creating a different effect, but both working together to cause a fascinating flood.

Victor caught himself wishing he could’ve skated to that piece.

Where was that piece from? He’d never heard it before. Had Sara commissioned it?

The music dripped into a stop, waking Victor from his trance. He hastily clapped along with everyone else, realizing he hadn’t paid attention to her routine beyond the first minute. It must’ve been very good if the audience’s reaction was anything to go by. It usually was.

The skating season had barely begun, but the wheels in his head were turning towards the next one already. Music that flowed with life. That was exactly what he needed.

***

“Phichit, put down that phone.”

“And how do you expect me to post videos of the final if I put down my phone? Honestly, Yuuri, you shock me. Shock me.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) not to smile.

“Have you ever considered… not posting videos of the final? You could just watch the performances, you know.”

“Well, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Yuuri would’ve taken his argument a step further, pointing out that Phichit would benefit more from actually watching the seasoned skaters rather than filming them – but the whole venue burst into roaring applause and his attention instantly shifted to the ice. His hand grabbed Phichit’s arm with unsuspected strength and the boy winced, but Yuuri paid no attention.

“It’s him,” he whispered reverently.

Victor Nikiforov had just skated onto the ice, smiling and waving at the audience.

Yuuri’s eyes were glued to the skater’s every move. The routine hadn’t even begun yet, and he was already bewitched. When he stopped in the middle of the rink Yuuri could sense the whole world waiting with bated breath, begging Victor to once again captivate them all.

Yuuri already knew the aria and the routine by heart at that point: he’d gone to Osaka just to watch Victor at the NHK Trophy, not to mention he was probably responsible for half of the million views his performance at the Rostelecom Cup had on Youtube. Which was why, as soon as the first verse of Stammi Vicino echoed through the arena, Yuuri could tell there was something different this time: Victor’s face and movements were just as languidly melancholy as before, but as he flowed across the ice Yuuri thought his moves seemed to have a more… fluid quality to them. Like water.

Yuuri beamed with pride, as if he were somehow responsible for this. Only the Living Legend could still make a routine that everyone had already watched countless times feel like something new.

***

“Victor!”

He stopped in his tracks, tired and slightly wary: he’d finally gotten rid of the reporters and all the federation representatives, if he could only reach the locker rooms in peace… He turned nonetheless, practiced smile already on his lips, but to his immense relief all he saw was Sara Crispino smiling at him, bronze medal around her neck.

“Mila said you were looking for me? And hey, congratulations on the gold!”

Even though they’d had very little contact up until now, she hugged him as if they were close friends. He smiled, this time more naturally.

“Thank you, Sara! Congratulations on your medal too! Listen, I wanted to ask you something: I loved the music of your free skate. I mean, I loved the routine as well,” he lied, feeling a bit guilty, “but it’s just that I was wondering where that piece was from.”

“ The Nereid’s Call ? I had it composed for me! I was tired of skating to old ballet pieces, you know.”

Victor nodded, sympathetic. Weren’t they all.

“It was gorgeous! Who came up with the idea of an aquatic theme, you?”

“No, my coach and I were thinking of having something that felt both fresh and classical for my theme this year? So we told him that and he… like, he sat down and watched all of my old routines, back to my junior days, to see what my skating was like. And then he composed The Nereid, and said that was what my skating made him think of.” Then she concluded, blushing slightly, “So the aquatic thing was all his idea, really.”

“Impressive! So who is ‘he’?”

“Oh, sorry! Yuuri Katsuki! You know him, right?”

The name did ring a bell, and he nodded slowly. He’d heard the name being mentioned by other skaters over the past few years – Cao Bin had mentioned him once, if he was not mistaken, and so had Sara’s brother? Jaime Estévez, too, right before retiring. But he’d never paid much attention: Yakov only worked with German and Italian composers and Victor had lazily followed his lead so far.

“I know of him, yes. But I don’t think I’ve ever met him. Do you have his contact?”

“He’s here! And he’s adorable, he even came to wish me and Mickey good luck! He composed Mickey’s short program music last year, so Mickey kinda likes him… Let me see…” she looked around, searching for the composer in the crowd – and as she grabbed Victor’s hand to drag him along, he started to nervously look over his shoulder, expecting Michelle Crispino to angrily pop out of the ground at any moment.

“Look, there! With Celestino and Elena!”

Celestino Cialdini was always a good reference point, standing one head above most everyone else. He and his skater Elena Deschamps, the newest gold medalist for the women, were talking to two young men – a tiny enthusiastic one (a skater, right? He’d definitely seen him before) who was doing most of the talking, and a fashionably dressed one who quietly listened to the others and nodded sometimes.

“Wait here!”

Victor did as she asked, standing close enough to be able to see their faces, but not enough to understand what they said, the noise in the arena still chaotic and everywhere. He saw the quiet man turn to Sara, his face lit up in a warm smile.

Oh.

The expression “cute as a button” flashed in his mind and for the first time he felt he understood its meaning.

But he then watched as his smile faded a little and his cheeks turned pink, and when he glanced at Victor a look of sheer horror crept into his eyes. He shook his head and started backing off slowly, like a little frightened animal, and after a couple more words he practically fled to the exit.

Sara came back, a little crestfallen.

“He said he was in a hurry… places to go and all. But we’ll probably see him tomorrow!”

Victor nodded and gave her his Victor Nikiforov Smile™, distractedly.

Funny, he hadn’t seemed to be in a hurry before seeing Victor.

***

The last group has just entered the arena. All eyes are on Victor Nikiforov, who’s going for his fifth consecutive World Championship gold. He will be skating last.

Yuuri watched Victor on TV, practicing the moves of his free skate on a hallway.

A few months ago he would’ve liked nothing more than to sit next to Minako, watch Victor get the gold again and celebrate. But seeing Victor now just reminded him what an idiot and a failure he was. He walked away.

“Hey, Yuuri! Aren’t you gonna watch it with me?” a tipsy Minako asked.

“Sorry, sensei, I got work to do,” and he disappeared before she could argue with him.

His tiny studio in the back was the only safe place these days, no one ever bothered him there. His parents, Mari, Minako, they all felt like they could barge into his bedroom or when he was at the hot springs at any given time – but not the studio. “He’s working,” they’d say in hushed tones and he’d be left alone. Yuuri had composed precious little since he’d come back home, though. Most of the time his time in the studio was spent just sitting on his old couch, rewatching his last performance or rereading the crushing reviews.

“A flop in every sense of the word”, “amateurish”, “depressing” and “a wretched affair” were some of the bits that had been floating around in his brain for half a year now. Some of the critics had been gracious enough to add “not like his usual self” and remember his past - more successful - performances, but most of them had been merciless.

As if the knot in his stomach and the sting in his eyes hadn’t been enough torture as he’d sat on the piano bench that night. He’d been wearing his lenses as usual but the keys right under his nose had still been a blur, and he’d felt rather than seen his hands shaking. The usual silence that preceded the beginning of a performance had seemed to stretch on and on into eternity, unnaturally, unbearably long. A few murmurs from the crowd. They were all waiting for him and no one else. He’d been this close to throwing up all over the Steinway grand piano.

The first note hit had already been the wrong one, and it hadn’t gotten better as the recital went on. He’d either played too loud, attacking the keys as if they’d personally killed Vicchan, or tried to compensate for it, touching them so lightly they couldn’t even make the sound intended. With every note screwed up he’d imagined what the critics would say the next morning, what his old teachers would think, the comforting, supportive smile his parents would give him, which would only make it worse – they’d say it was okay but it was not . And the more those images swirled around his head, the more notes he missed, in a vicious, cruel cycle.

In the end, he’d still had to stand up and thank the lukewarm applause, which had been one of the most mortifying parts of it all: had it been up to him he would’ve closed the piano and run away from the stage without looking back, but that was not how it was done. The audience had politely played its part, offering him the applause he clearly had not earned, and in his turn he’d stood up and bowed once, before he’d felt they’d both had enough of that charade. He’d walked away as quickly as his last bit of dignity allowed him, hoping his face was not burning as badly as he felt.

And there was that invitation, sitting on the side table and gathering dust. He’d gotten it almost a month before, right after coming back to Hasetsu, but still didn’t have the courage to answer.

He didn’t even know what to answer.

Did he actually want to play in front of an audience again? It had never felt comfortable, Yuuri hated being the center of attention – ironic, considering he’d spent the first half of his life dancing, and the second half making music; both had led him to performing in public, to people who were watching, people who had even paid for it. However, the emotions that shook him to his very core were his. He couldn’t just bare them, so when he danced, when he played, the outside world ceased to exist. He did it for himself, and that was what usually allowed him to perform well.

Until that recital, that is.

Yuuri leaned his head against the piano, closing his eyes: did he truly want to risk going through something like that again?

The answer had to be a resounding “no”, right?

So why hadn’t he answered the invitation yet? Such an easy thing to do.

And an invitation by Minami Kenjirou, too, of all people.

“It’s nothing personal, Katsuki-san, it’s just that Minami-kun’s score suits the movie better. It’s more… alive.”

The director had praised his score in the end, but Yuuri didn’t need empty praise. His music had simply not been good enough, why not just say that? He’d also suggested Yuuri take a vacation, hadn’t he been working non-stop for a few years?

Sure, let’s pretend this has nothing to do with the critics saying my last score was ‘bland’ and ‘generic’, he’d thought at the time, but kept quiet. Yuuri was much too proud to say anything, so he’d just mumbled something about being tired and needing time off.

And none of that was Minami’s fault, really.

Maybe it was the year. It had started with him losing award after award and ended with him running away from Victor Nikiforov who, against all odds, had wanted to meet him.

Him.

Plain, old, mediocre Yuuri.

“He loved The Nereid’s Call and wants to talk to you!”

A decade-old dream coming true in the cruelest possible way. How could he face Victor Nikiforov, a man who’d broken, like, all the records and made history with the same ease a bored barista made coffee? He stood on top of the world while Yuuri was digging his way beyond rock bottom. There was no way he could make a fool of himself in front of Victor, and fleeing from him had been the only available option.

A dull pain in his head made him realize he’d been leaning his forehead against the piano way too hard for way too long, so he sat up and straightened his shoulders.

What did he want to do now ?

Compose? What? He had nothing for the moment. The score the studio had asked for was done (and discarded, but he pushed that thought aside for the moment), as well as the music for Elena Deschamps’ free skate – that had taken quite the while, too. She had a Grand Prix title to defend this year, and Celestino had been particularly demanding. Yuuri had reworked the piece three times. At least this year Phichit would go with Shall We Skate? and Terra Incognita, so he didn’t have to worry about him.

The question came back: what now?

He laid eyes on the single music sheet on top of the piano and felt his face burn. Maybe he could work on that?

The kanji he’d scribbled there formed his own name. That had to be the stupidest working title he’d ever given to a piece. But, well, it was about himself, so. He could think of a better, official title when the piece was done.

If it were ever done.

Because no matter how many times he played it, how much he tinkered with the chord progression or modulated it to a new key, it was still not good. It should be so simple and yet few pieces had given him as much pain as this one. But he’d started it, might as well see it to the end.

***

Maccachin jumped on the couch, tail wagging happily and tongue sticking out, looking at Victor as if inviting him to sit next to her.

“I know, I missed home too”, Victor answered her unspoken comment.

Victor put down his bags in a corner of the living room; he’d left the airport and gone straight to the dog hotel to pick her up. He was exhausted from the flight, but there was no way he’d leave her there for one more night.

She barked and he scratched her behind the ears.

“Sorry, girl, I need a shower first, okay? And then I’ll keep you company.”

He turned on the TV so she’d have the background noise she loved and went for the shower he so desperately needed. When he finally came back, still drying his hair with a towel, Maccachin was quietly chewing her favorite plushie while sprawling on the couch.

“Any room for me there?”

At his motion of sitting she immediately made room for him. In no time, Victor was lying on the couch with Maccachin half under his legs and half on top of him. He wondered if she had any idea of how large she was and smiled at her.

“Forgot to tell you: I got the gold again! Fifth time! You proud of me?”

She licked his hand and wrist for some long seconds, and he took that as a “yes”.

He got his phone out and scrolled through his social media, his mind miles away from the pictures and statuses he was supposed to be liking.

The season was finally over; he had the next two days off (wasn’t Yakov generous), and after that he’d be back at the rink, training for the next one.

Assuming that was what he wanted to do.

But he was just so, so tired.

The problem was not the skating, but rather… the exertion of shedding skin year after year. Every season a new Victor Nikiforov, every season baring his emotions for the world to see - emotions that he, quite frankly, hardly remembered. Every routine a story: of wonder, or pain, love, discovery, bliss, death, and the effort of scraping the barrel of himself to tell stories he barely knew was leaving him emptier by the second.

So what now?

He’d vaguely toyed with the idea of retiring, but had never dared to speak of it, not even to Maccachin. It was not something to be taken lightly – besides, if he ever as much as breathed the word “retire” Yuri would kill him, Yakov would have a heart attack and Victor would get shouted at for days. The mere idea of it all was stressful enough to make him not want to retire till he was 87.

But he could retire if he wanted to.

… Did he?

He still had a few good years of competitive skating in him, and he still loved the feeling of gliding on the ice, landing difficult quads, telling stories and dazzling audiences. He didn’t mind baring his soul for them to see, it was just that he was running out of emotions, with no idea where to find new ones.

He focused on his phone for one second and his train of thought was broken: he’d mechanically liked one of Sara Crispino’s pictures on Instagram, and he pursed his lips. Thank God the season was over and he didn’t have to see Michelle for a half year or he’d never hear the end of it.

He smiled nonetheless: the picture showed the two siblings in front of a cathedral in Florence, and they seemed to be having fun. Sara was as graceful as always, of course. Her free skate was still vivid in his mind, she’d make it to the top of the podium someday. That had been some good skating.

Some great music.

The Nereid’s Call. That piece had enraptured him at the Grand Prix, and again at the European and World Championships. He opened Youtube and looked for it, but the only results “the nereid’s call” yielded were of Sara’s routine, none of the piece itself. He hesitated then, but finally typed “yuuri katsuki” in front of it. Again, the piece was nowhere to be found, maybe he hadn’t released it yet? But there were many results for Yuuri Katsuki, which made sense. Although Victor wasn’t an expert in music, he had the distinct impression The Nereid was a technically difficult piece, so Yuuri was probably good at what he did.

Well, he’d never called, so that was that, he supposed. He was just not interested in Victor – rather, in making music for Victor.

It wasn’t that big of a deal though, right? He could ask signore Scandello to compose for him again, the result was sure to be gorgeous. Stammi Vicino was proof of that.

He glanced at the search results again, and one in particular called his attention.

Yuuri Katsuki New York 2015 performance flop

Victor frowned and clicked on the video. It started with Yuuri, in a tuxedo and with his hair slicked back (looking extremely handsome, he might add), walking onto the stage under considerable applause, though he hardly acknowledged the audience. He collapsed rather than sat on the bench and stood very still for a few seconds, as if he’d been turned into stone; he didn’t even seem to be breathing. A whole minute went by in deafening silence, and the only move he’d made was to weakly rub his knees. At last he seemed to snap back into reality and hastily started to play – and the very first notes just sounded… wrong. Painful, even. Victor’s frown deepened as the piece went on and by the time the video ended with Yuuri hurrying off the stage under polite applause he was this close to having a headache.

That couldn’t possibly be Yuuri.

“If I win this dance-off you’ll skate for me, right?”

Not Banquet Yuuri.

Though it was awfully close to the Yuuri who’d run away from him after the GPF.

The stark difference between the two Yuuri Katsuki versions he’d met had kept Victor baffled for weeks, and now this. Was he the same person who’d composed The Nereid? Or was Victor idealizing the piece (and its composer) by now? Was it really that good?

He went back to the previous search and clicked on the first video of Sara’s free skate, closing his eyes and tuning out the commentators to focus solely on the music. One minute in, though, and he knew he’d been right: that piano solo was every bit as inspiring as he’d felt back in December, the waterfall of sounds every bit as entrancing.

He could associate Banquet Yuuri to The Nereid’s Call (even though breakdancing and pole dancing could hardly be said to walk hand in hand with piano solos), because they were both so alive. More alive than Victor had felt in years. But Recital Yuuri was… wounded.

A quick Google search later and he was skimming through an article:

Yuuri Katsuki Review – A Wretched Affair

The Japanese pianist and composer Yuuri Katsuki made his first (and hopefully last) appearance at the Snow Hall Festival. What had been anticipated as an interesting debut at the traditional New York festival turned out to be one of the most deeply unmusical experiences the audience present that night will ever have.

Uncomfortable, he skimmed through the rest:

Awkward… depressing… piano was savagely attacked… truly gruesome… clangorous… falling apart on stage…

Victor stopped, the reviewer was quite ruthless. But right at the end the word “nomination” made Victor sit up a bit straighter (and startle awake a fast asleep Maccachin).

Google. Wikipedia.

He stared.

1 Early Life

2 Career

3 Works

3.1 Television

3.2 Theatrical releases

3.3 Other works

4 Awards

5 Personal Life

6 References

7 External Links

He didn’t bother with “Early Life” and “Personal Life”, only 2 lines long each, going straight to “Career”, “Works” (quite long) and “Awards”, spending more than half an hour clicking on link after link trying to understand.

Then back to Youtube, “yuuri katsuki”. There weren’t many videos of him live performing, but there were many other things to watch and listen to:

Top 10 Katsuki Yuuri Scores [10 videos]

The Flying Palace, composer Yuuri Katsuki [21 videos]

Katsuki Yuuri and Ogino Takeshi at the recording session of Amaterasu’s Cave

A Night of Winters – Katsuki Yuuri (The Flying Palace)

Spice and Candy OP 1 “If You Find” (Katsuki Y.)

EPILOGUE – THE FLYING PALACE (YUURI KATSUKI)

Katsuki Yuuri plays Stammi Vicino

Your Serenade Without Me (Y. Katsuki)

Katsuki Yuuri’s Nighttime and Daybird Score [19 videos]

Wait. No, hold on.

Victor blinked.

Katsuki Yuuri plays Stammi Vicino

He clicked.

Yuuri at the piano in what was most likely his own house – he seemed to be in a living room (maybe?), a long, messy bookcase to his left and a black & white poster of… someone Japanese above the piano.

Victor had already seen Yuuri wearing nothing but boxers and a (god-awful) tie, but even though he was fully clothed here, this was somehow even more intimate, almost invasive. Like waltzing into someone’s bedroom without their permission. He had his hair down, dark sweatpants, a worn-out white t-shirt and no glasses.

This was Domestic Yuuri.

The video began after Yuuri had been playing for a few seconds, and Victor would recognize those notes anywhere anytime. It was his Stammi Vicino (well, technically it was signore Scandello’s). He’d half hoped, half expected that, considering Yuuri was so involved with ice skating music – what he had not expected was to hear Yuuri start singing at anche tu sei stato forse abbandonato. He sang in a low voice, clearly only for himself, as if he could not help it. Victor noticed with a start that there was no music sheet in front of the pianist, he had his eyes closed, playing it by heart. Perfectly. The notes, the low-key singing, the execution, all flawless, but more than that: it was brimming with emotion, the emotion Victor had hoped to emulate in his free skate; infectious emotion, giving him goosebumps right away and even bringing tears to his eyes at ho paura di perderti. Had the song always been this poignant, this disillusioned?

The silence took over Victor’s apartment when the video ended, though the music still echoed loudly in his mind, along with all the Yuuris he’d ever had a glimpse of.

He looked through his contacts until he found the one he needed.

Mila! 21:34

Hi! =D 21:34

Listen, do you have Sara Crispino’s contact? 21:35

Sure! (?) 21:35

He didn’t answer the implicit question and waited.

Sara 21:36 Message Add to a group

Thanks! <3 21:36

***

Yuuri woke up but didn’t get out of bed right away; he didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to go, so he just stared (squinted) at the ceiling for a while.

Notification sound. He grabbed his glasses and then the phone: Phichit. He smiled a little and answered, but he wouldn’t see it right away, he was probably on his way to the rink, if not there already. Yuuri checked for other messages, Facebook, Instagram (not that he ever posted anything there, but), LINE, e-mail.

He blinked.

Stared.

Rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared again.

Victor Nikiforov > New music

Incredulous, his eyes dangerously close to popping out of their sockets, he opened the email.

Dear Yuuri:

I hope this finds you well! I was wondering whether we could talk about the possibility of you composing a piece for me to use this next skating season. We could talk over Skype whenever convenient for you.

Sincerely,

Victor Nikiforov

#yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfic #victuri fanfic #victuuri #yoi #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #thehob's fic #thehobbem writes #write me in c major

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huntsman-ash · 5 years ago

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RWBY V7E1 Watch And Comment

AlIm going to leave this untagged and under a read-more so there is NO WAY anyone will be spoiled by this. This is more me commenting on the episode, to get it out of my head.

First off; Atlas has hanger bays noted by Greek letters. Omega-12 for example. If theres a reference in that I don’t know but its interesting.

Weiss notes that Atlas’s forces are deployed “aggressively”. Which is weird considering they’re in a defensive holding pattern with dozens of dropships running combat air patrols. Perhaps she means aggressively as in “out there” as opposed to being in the background...

That being said Weiss makes the same assumption jump I made so them going to Mantle makes more sense

On Mantle...its as gritty as I imagined it would be, but at the same time, far more prosperous. Im okay with this change, but I had to throw out some old headcanons of mine.

THAT BEING SAID the way it looks strikes me as a place with a lot of underground grey/black stuff. It looks like something out of Shadowrun.

Interestingly there’s a reason for the change and why I had to throw out my headcanons; you can see red-lit fan vents on many buildings, some emmiting steam. Possibly these are some kind of heating vents that keep the whole city from freezing, which is really cool.

Also despite the presence of traffic lights I see no cars.

Okay, even more Shadowrun; Ironwood talking to everyone on a giant fuckoff TV screen on the wall. And...hes got a pointless shoulder belt. Haha!

Damn, they missed a chance to have him punch his chest with his fist and say “Atlas Endures!” or something cool like that.

I get the overall feeling Mantle got really cracked down on for some reason...also lot of people with cold weather gear on. I guess its not THAT warm there.

Oh, and AKs patrolling the streets (headdesks) ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! YOU IDIOTS KNOW THEY DONT WORK!

And Winter’s now the face of Atlas. Somehow Im not shocked.

NO SHIT THERES SOMETHING WRONG Weiss. NO. SHIT.

Also if they set that ship down in Mantle five bucks says by the end of the day its just gonna be GONE. They’ll have stripped it CLEAN.

Oh, wait. We hear some guys in teh background go “It landed over there, lets go!” and we see Atlas troopers running for it. Huh. Guess they DO have human soldiers in the area.

So according to the glowing news wall, we see something about an election, a journalist is dead (might be important later) and they’re commending on the embargo. Also the sign is for someone named Hill. Looks like she’ll be important too.

Graffiti reading “show your teeth”. With an Ork symbol on it. Interesting.

Hover drones to keep track of people. Oh joy, going full authoratarian huh? Not subtle, RT. Not subtle.

Oh, theres a car. Convenient.

Wait...”The kingdom had just lost the Great War”. I KNEW IT. I KNEW Mantle was technically the looser here.

More trucks. Old school looking. Carrying Faunus dust miners covered in black greasy shit. Hmm. Also, not terribly subtle.

Random angry exposition drunk guy is random, drunk, angry, and expositional...and properly disposed of in a trash can by Weiss. Thank you Miss Schnee, I appreciate that.

Dude on the steps is probably Ash’s cousin or something. Hmm. More signs. Literally saying “Protect Mantle”. Im calling it, this Hill person is the Mantle Resurgance leader and I think Im going to like her.

Prostectic for a faunus. Hmm. Something tells me thats not standard... OH MY GOD HES HUEY FROM MGS MEETS DR. LIGHT WHAT THE FUCK

Something on the X-ray screens behind Maria. Looks like...full cybornetic implants of some kind? Superhumans? Spartans? Some kind of Grimm? Interesting.

Peitro. And hes got a whale on his shelf there. How clever.

OH THANK GOD It looks like its not Schnee doing all the work. I can handle this cool old dude.

Shoes that make you dance.

Ironwoods gone paranoid. And no one commented on it then? Interesting. I guess Remnant doesnt have the best veterans health benefits...

I do love his “days since last nonsense” sign, still reading 0

Also a place called Atalal or something. Atlatl? Like the old throwing weapon? Perhaps a new city.

Convenient Grimm attack is convenient...also, daughter. I wonder who THAT COULD BE...

Gambol shroud is still broken I see.

“Somehow that doesnt surprise me” No, I agree with you there Nora, when has ANYTHING defensive in Remnant ACTUALLY FUCKING WORKED?

Also shocker, the AKs are COMPLETELY WORTHLESS against Grimm. Who would have thought?!

I’ll just let the fight scene go for itself. Its great. Though I will note the AK rifles sound different now. Actual gun noises instead of the pew-pew of the plasma pistol from V3

Qrow punches a Grimm in the face and then kills it. FUCKING NICE.

Also is it just me or do these Grimm disintigrate WAY faster than they used too. I remember back in V1 and 2 they stcuk around for a bit, but the moment these guys take hits they’re just DUST.

Green laser. WELL NOW WHO COULD THAT BE...

AND ITS...SEXY FEMALE MEGAMAN! Wait no its Penny. But upgraded. Dishwasher style. Yaayyyyy. But...no assault robot.

DAT ABSOLUTE TERRITORY ON HER LEG THO. GIRL SLAY IT

The little bow wiggle

ANNNDDDD RUBY’S DEAD. Thats it, shows over. Killed by flying robot ginger.

Her bow is also metal, which is adorable. Ohhhh. So THATS where the Arena went. It flew all the way back to Atlas. Man that must have been something to see.

Aww, shes protector of Mantle. Thats...actually kinda cute.

“I must go, my people need me” SHE GONE

Oh, look, vents leaking heat into the air behind Maria. So Mantle DOES heat its air to keep it snow-free.

Bolos. Really.

Please dont be specialists please dont be specialists please dont be specialists OH YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

(Rages in lack of Tier 1 operator tacticool). Leaders a fucking douche looker too IMO. Really, a horseshoe? Oh. Wait. Hes got a clover on his shirt. I bet you anything hes the mirror opposite of Qrow.

Ace Ops? REALLY. This is the best Atlas has? I know they’re just Huntsman but LEGIT REALLY. REALLY.

And they think th ey’re SOOOOOOO cool. Dude, Bravo Six could take your shit apart without even TRYING. Captain Price would stub his cigar out on your fuckin’ skullhole.

And thats the episode. Next week!

0 notes

sailorrrvenus · 6 years ago

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Hands-On with Sharp’s Sub-$5,000 8K Mirrorless Camera

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During the be beginning of the year, Sharp Corporation unveiled a surprising, small handheld Micro Four Thirds 8K camera – but back then we had very few details about it. Now, just before NAB 2019 is about to begin, we had the opportunity to talk to Kaino-san from Sharp, who was kind enough to answer our questions and also let us have a short spin with it.

Note: The camera is currently at a very early stage of development and the footage it creates is in NO WAY final! For now, this new Micro 4/3 sensor camera can record 8K/30p in H264, Long GOP, 8Bit 4:2:0, 200Mbps wrapped in an mp4 container to an internal SD card. More details below.

During the above interview, Kaino-san was very clear about the status of development of this video-centric new camera. The Sharp engineering team is working hard to bring it to the market, but there is still A LOT to do before the camera officially sees the day of light. In fact, the unit I got to shoot with was the first to be handed to anyone, and although in an early development stage, Sharp allowed me to shoot with it. In return, Sharp is asking for our (the filming community) support by letting them know what we really want and need in order to make it a useful tool for creative work. But, first things first, let’s see what it has already, and what might be missing.

Current Specs (Subject to Change)

Sharp chose to use their own 33-megapixel Micro Four Thirds sensor and have built the camera around it. As we might imagine, focusing can be crucial when filming in 8K, so in Sharp’s mind(s), this sensor size provides an ideal balance between usability (user experience) and sensor performance (they are perfectly aware that by using such sensor size, dynamic range, low-light performance, and picture noise, in general, might be compromised). Yet, the decision was to go ahead and aim for greater usability. (By the way, Sharp has just officially joined the Micro Four Thirds system standard group, next to Olympus and Panasonic).

Watch some footage below we’ve shot here in Las Vegas with this Sharp 8K micro four thirds camera (Mind you, this video is heavily processed and compressed by YouTube. We’ve also uploaded three unaltered clips straight from the camera to a different location which you can download here. Plus, you can download the original 8K version of the video).

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The camera I shot with was locked on 8K/30p 200Mbps, but Sharp is planning to allow Full HD recording, 2K, 4K (up to 60p) and 8K/30, all in H264 and H265, Long GOP, 8 Bit, 4:2:0, 200Mbps wrapped in an mp4 container. Future HDR recording will be in 10Bit as this is part of the HDR standard). Sharp is considering replacing the existing mini 2.1 HDMI connector with a full-size one.

Clean 8K output is guaranteed, so also the connection to Sharp’s own TV sets will be seamless. How this output file will look like is still being discussed at Sharp. The 5.5-inch Full HD touch screen is bright, but not very responsive (YET) on this un-finished camera (in fact, the actual camera menu is not yet ready and camera power management is not really implemented). Speaking of which, the new upcoming Sharp camera will use Canon’s LP-E6 batteries.

If you are into gimbal work, please note that there is no internal body stabilization system, but fast continuous Auto Focus is expected to make it to the final camera. The current body I was shooting with had single-tap autofocus, only.

Connectivity and Button Layout

We already mentioned the full 2.1 HDMI connector. On top, it will enjoy a USB type 3 interface, headphone jack, 3.5 audio input, and a single mini XLR connector for better, more professional audio connectivity. When it comes to camera control buttons, the layout is simple: On/Off button, RECORD button, 3 Fn buttons (Controlling ISO, Shutter speed and White Balance), AEL and DISPLAY buttons, and a cold shoe for attaching some accessories, like a small light or a microphone. That’s it. I’m curious to see how the actual camera menu will look like and if it can help with its operation. (Peaking and Zebra among other features will be welcomed)

Who Is This Camera For?

As it is hard NOT to compare this camera to Blackmagic’s Pocket Cinema Camera 4K, of course, I was curious to find out who Sharp are actually targeting, as I don’t really know so many productions that are requesting 8K delivery – or filmmakers who are suggesting 8K master to their clients. Kaino-san was clear that at this stage of development, Sharp is not really targeting the filmmaking community and this camera might be useful within Sharp’s 8K ecosystem.

8K productions are slowly but surely expected to gain momentum towards 2020, when the Olympic games will take place in Japan, so when that happens, Sharp will have a camera to offer for small and medium-sized production houses. According to Sharp, another way of benefiting from such a high-resolution sensor is when pairing that camera with a drone.

What Is Currently Missing

Sharp will equip the camera with REC709 and BT.2020 picture profiles. Log Gamma picture profile is currently only being considered and its implementation is greatly dependent on audience request! (A small hint, the comment section is just below and Sharp will be watching…)

Another missing option is the ability to record any sort of (Compressed) RAW. Hopefully, by hearing our community, Sharp will consider adopting ProRes RAW or the Blackmagic equivalent.

Pricing and Availability

A bit of a painful point here… Sharp is aiming to offer their 8K camera for somewhere between $3,000 to $5,000. In my opinion, it is a bit too much to ask. 8K might not be the selling point Sharp is hoping it to be, as consumers are NOT after resolution only (we are still learning to master 4K…)

So, humble words of advice for Sharp: get to know your customers, see what the competition is offering, give as much as you can with this first camera of yours and sell it for a reasonable, fair price if you want people to get it. In terms of availability, there is no definite time yet, though Sharp is targeting the release within 2019. I can witness first-hand that it will still take a while until that new 8K camera is ready for prime time.

This is a grab from our original Sharp 8K footage (downscaled to HD)

And this is a 400% crop into the above grab (again, downscaled to HD). Note the amount of detail!

Picture Quality

As this is NOT one of my camera reviews, I will not touch the subject of picture quality since it is not a final product yet. Most of the clips in the above video were shot in between ISO 200 to 450, and white balance was factory locked on Auto. (The camera can go all the way to ISO 10,000 but Sharp is still looking for that picture quality/lower picture noise “sweet spot”).

If you are looking for a lowlight monster or even just a good lowlight performer, look elsewhere (at this stage, it is a daylight or well-lit-places camera, only). The B-roll images in my interview were all scaled down to HD (to match the rest of the interview with Kaino-san).

Would you buy a camera just because it offers 8K resolution? Let us know in the comment section below what you think Sharp should offer on top of resolution.

About the author: Johnnie Behiri is a freelance documentary cameraman/editor/producer/director working for many respected clients and broadcasters. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. Behiri is also a co-owner of cinema5D. This article was also published here.

source https://petapixel.com/2019/04/08/hands-on-with-sharps-sub-5000-8k-mirrorless-camera/

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pauldeckerus · 6 years ago

Text

Hands-On with Sharp’s Sub-$5,000 8K Mirrorless Camera

youtube

Current Specs (Subject to Change)

youtube

Connectivity and Button Layout

Who Is This Camera For?

What Is Currently Missing

Another missing option is the ability to record any sort of (Compressed) RAW. Hopefully, by hearing our community, Sharp will consider adopting ProRes RAW or the Blackmagic equivalent.

Pricing and Availability

This is a grab from our original Sharp 8K footage (downscaled to HD)

And this is a 400% crop into the above grab (again, downscaled to HD). Note the amount of detail!

Picture Quality

Would you buy a camera just because it offers 8K resolution? Let us know in the comment section below what you think Sharp should offer on top of resolution.

from Photography News https://petapixel.com/2019/04/08/hands-on-with-sharps-sub-5000-8k-mirrorless-camera/

0 notes

goriinkarachi-blog · 7 years ago

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Karachi, 2011

All of my friends here live like James Cameron, but Amira really lives like James Cameron. (And I know how James Cameron lives, because I’ve been to his house twice. The first time, I didn’t know where I was. The second time, I was hired to be his kids’ nanny.)

I met Amira at an Italian restaurant called Pompeii. It was low-lit and high-priced, with a tree growing in the middle of the softly glowing dining room. The food was the most recognizable my western palate had encountered, a month into Karachi.

My friend Zarhym invited me out with a few of her friends. They hadn’t had a chance to get to the bootlegger, or we would have had wine. I didn’t mind. I was coming off a week of food poisoning and kitchari.

Zarhym is tomboyishly adorable. Petite, with shining hair, sans makeup but plenty of lip-gloss, she’s always in jeans or leggings and an oversized button-down. She was the first girl I met here who drives herself, rather than being constantly chauffeured by a driver, and she does randomly awesome things like perfume her room with the Jasmine bracelets teenagers sell at intersections, fix computers and set up Saturday softball games.

She’s the one who told me that when I joked with my turbo-talking boss—“What are you, on coke?”—that I probably freaked him out, because he actually is on coke and has been to rehab multiple times now.

It was a completely innocent mistake on my part.

But anyhow, this is not about Zarhym.

We met three of her friends that night. They were dolled up and seeped in privilege, as the Pakistani girls in my impromptu social circle often are. But two of them seemed as pragmatic and down to earth as Zarhym herself.

Then there was Amira.

Amira has high cheekbones and an amazing mass of soft, heavy hair that she piles on top of her head in a messy-chic bun. Her skin is perfect, her make up has dutifully accomplishes the there-but-bare thing, her eyebrows are perfectly shaped. She’s been in Karachi five years. I’m not sure what her father does, but something that makes him obscene amounts of money.

Amira was born in Saudia Arabia, where her mother had to call her father’s office to send over a driver each time she ran out of milk, since women don’t drive and weren’t allowed out unchaperoned; attended elementary in Switzerland, where she developed an affinity for skiing and setting perfect nine-course tables; high school in Dubai, where she met the evangelical children of engineers from Texas and marveled at how self-regulated they were, how much more conservative than her Muslim friends; and fashion college in Canada. She says she’s exactly the same person at 29 that she was at 17, and claims that three of her closest friends have family names that top the Forbes 400 list.

Amira does nothing but dress up, work out and design clothes for herself and her mother, which her personal tailor then makes. Sometimes she goes to the fabric market herself. Often she sends one of “the boys.” It’s important to note that the boys are actually men, but they might as well be accessories—a host of drivers, guards and gofers that rich people here collect like handbags.

I secretly suspect Amira’s bored.

When I mention needing clothes, she coolly but quickly offers to accompany me to the fabric market, so we meet again a few days later.

We visit an air conditioned fabric boutique first, inside an upscale mall. Amira has the shopkeeper pull out bolt after bolt of the sheerest, softest silk. She drapes a gorgeous gold piece halter-style around my neck, explaining how it would fall as a summer dress.

I watch in the full-length mirror. I look like I’m going to prom. I will never have an occasion to wear the $2,000 dress that we can make me for a mere $100. Not to mention that $100 is pretty much all I can spend.

I’m hedging on the price, and she can tell, so we head next door to the fabric market proper, and as Amira blazes a trail through bolts of chiffon, silk and lawn, I follow and point and watch yards of fabric being ripped and bagged. As I clutch the sticky plastic handles and hand over 500rps, I wonder if I’m buying my vision or hers.

Amira speaks authoritatively and abrasively to the shopkeepers, bargaining them down in rapid Urdu, then turning to me in rapid English to report the final sum, and then always, unfailingly and unsmilingly, thanking them before we move on.

Amira is what books call “well-bred,” which for some reason always makes me think of poodles. But she isn’t anything like a poodle. Maybe more of a robot.

We buy purple linen, which the shopkeeper says is exactly what Armani uses, and Amira is convinced it’s true. Amira thinks I should make a shirtdress. I’m fascinated by the variations in the weave, the way it’s subtly thinner in places, but you could never call it patchy.

I think Amira and I have different aesthetics. She tells me never to machine wash it. I’m wondering if I can somehow coax it to look “distressed.”

Then we buy some floral printed chiffon with gold accents. I picture something Grecian, loose all around but slightly cinched at the waist, maybe a scoop neck, sleeveless but with wide shoulders. She’s describing something fitted to the waist, cowl necked and flared.

We buy gingham silk, we buy lace trim, we buy dark lawn for a traditional kurta. Amira passes all the packages to her guard to carry.

The air in the fabric market is oppressive and still. A shopkeeper offers water. I refuse, not sure where its coming from. A few minutes later, he reappears and hands Amira an icy, sealed bottle of Nestle. I wish I hadn’t refused.

At her house later, a monstrous estate behind a border fence (like most of the homes I visit, but bigger), I'm checking out the art. It’s like a private gallery, and all of the walls have paintings of women.

There are women in tribal dress, clustered around a supine woman on a bed. There’s a single woman lounging in an armchair. There’s a group of women on a couch, leaning on each other. There are women sprawled on blankets and women with babies. There’s even a topless woman and another woman with a kurta that dips open all the way down her back, almost to her butt crack.

“That’s Iqbal Hussain. My father ‘sponsored’ him,” Amira says. “All of those women are prostitutes in Lahore.”

Amira tells me that Iqbal Hussain is famous and wealthy now, but when he was just starting out, the poor progeny of a sex worker, her father bought a lot of his work.

We sit in Amira's personal living room, a small space separate form her family’s living space, and eat finger sandwiches made of cream cheese and organic chicken.

Her bedroom suite is a three room affair. The first room has two gigantic closets and her bed. The second has another sitting space and four closets. The third room is a large bath.

These closets are shallow but long (two take up full walls each), and some of them have multiple levels of hanging rods. The clothes are organized. There’s an entire closet of eastern formal wear, for weddings and benefits. There’s another closet for more casual eastern wear. There’s a closet for kurtas and button downs, a section of European and American designer jeans. Tomorrow Amira leaves for a trip to London, simply to buy new clothes for a wedding.

Amira talks about money constantly and unapologetically. When I tell her the closets make me think of reality TV, The Simple Life maybe, she’s offended and says, “The most dignified people I know are my grandparents’ servants. They’re in their 90s and only own a few outfits, but they carry themselves with respect.”

She says suffering is all about perspective and argues that the time she couldn’t buy $25 shoes (she was in university and fighting with her parents, so they held out that month's stipend) was as upsetting for her as it would be for a poor person who wanted a new pair of plastic sandals they couldn’t afford.

Amira will argue, but she always remains polite, always says thank you. One doesn’t get chummy with Amira. In fact, she rarely smiles. Or at least, she rarely smiles spontaneously. When she smiles, it’s a polite gesture, part of the overall performance.

Before I leave, Amira lends me a black linen kurta for my trip up north, because I’m worried about not being able to do laundry and not having enough clothes not to reek.

Once Amira’s gone and before I go, Zarhym and I and a big group of people I don’t know are at the Korean restaurant in Clifton (which is simply called Korean Restaurant), a dive with immediate-cramp-inducing food that we frequent only because they serve beer to anyone, without checking identity cards to make sure they’re non-Muslim first.

“What’s the deal with Amira?” I ask Zarhym.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s nice and super polite, but she seems so mechanical. Like she never shows any true emotion."

Zarhym drains the rest of her beer. It’s from the Parsi-owned Murree Brewery, the only brewery in the country, circa 1860. Once someone told me the beer is processed with formaldehyde, but I can’t be sure.

“You know where Amira is right now?” she asks.

“London. Just because she needs clothes for a wedding. Because an entire closet full of formalwear isn’t enough.”

“So that’s what she told you?" Zarhym laughs. "Amira’s been involved in a secret love affair for pretty much a decade.”

“What?” I’m kind of flabbergasted. I can’t picture imperturbable Amira wanting anything she can’t have or buy.

“She met him in the UK, and he’s Parsi and lives in India. Her parents don’t know, I don’t know why. I think she thinks they’d disapprove, because he’s Indian.

Or maybe because he’s Parsi…but I don’t know, there’s something she’s not saying. Once I asked if he was married, and she got all annoyed and extra polite, you know. Like she does.

Anyhow, they meet up a few times a year in London.”

I take a sip of my own Murree and suddenly feel kind of sad for the rich girl who has it all, including the Pakistani citizenship that precludes her from following her lover to India or him from following her here, and the "secular" father who's financial situation she flaunts, who supported the burgeoning career of the painter with prostitutes for muses, but who may not be willing to support his daughter’s relationship with a man on the “wrong” side of Partition. If that's even what it's about.

Or may he just wouldn’t support his daughter’s relationship with a man with a wife and three kids in Delhi. Either way, sucks to be Amira and stuck in Karachi, even if you have the money to fly to London just to fuck (when your parents believe you're shopping).

But it sucks worse to be poor and stuck in Karachi, to want a pair of cheap plastic sandals that you can't afford to buy—never mind spending a $25 fortune on shoes.

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