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dumdumsun · 3 years

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Forever and Never

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this series ❤️ I’ve had so much fun writing this and am very proud of and excited for it, I can’t wait to see how people react to this. Um I know there are plenty of warnings for a first chapter, but I promise it’s not as depressing as it sounds. It’s just that this story can deal with heavy stuff sometimes, so I just wanna let you know that. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, death, sexual assault and mental illness

Word Count: 3194

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One: Hi, My Name Is

“So, what was your time in Pennsylvania like?”

“Uh… I’d have to say it was the best… and worst time of my life.”

“Best and worst, huh? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Well, I, uh… I mean, I don’t really know how to, like… explain it. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin… Or how I would even word it or anything.”

“Well, you told me you like television and movies, right? You know those shows and movies where the main character tells the plot as, like, their life story? Maybe you could try that.”

“You aren’t… You aren’t serious, are you?”

“You’ll know when I’m joking, trust me.”

“Oh… Okay, then. Well, um…”

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Hi? My name is… (Y/N)? This is my life story, I guess.

So, if we’re going to talk about my life in Pennsylvania, we’re going to have to start with my life in Kansas, first. I had two loving parents that soon turned into one at the too-young age of nine years, when my mom died. I remember her as one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She had this way about her that was so carefree, yet she gave a shit about everything. You could never pin a thought to her because she never let you in on what was bouncing around in her head. She was stubborn and patient and lively. I miss her so much. I don’t usually think about her unless it’s a particularly hectic day, which I then resort to talking to the ring I wear on my left pinky finger at all times. Wasn’t anything special, just some cheap ring with a little emerald inside she found at a thrift store. It used to be hers and she’d wear it on the exact same finger. My dad said she’d want me to have it.

My dad is my favorite person. He isn’t the most… present, though. His mind is never set in one place, always racing with hundreds of unrelated thoughts. It’s why when you finally drag him back into reality, he can’t repeat a single sentence spoken to him. Regardless, he’s all I had for a long time. I never really learned what he does for a living, but I just know that it forces him to leave town sometimes. Well, more like all the time. Before my mom died, it was easy for him to leave for weeks on end, but when he became my only guardian, he didn’t really know what to do with me. It was like he completely forgot how to take care of a child, his child. When I turned twelve, that was when he started travelling again. I would then be home by myself for a month to eight weeks. In these times, I had no choice but to learn to cook for myself, go grocery shopping and housekeep. I became pretty independent at a young age. It wasn’t like Dad left me totally alone, though. He would call every two or three days and he sent me two hundred dollars every two weeks. Like I said, I don’t know what my dad did, but he was definitely getting paid. At the end of eighth grade, Dad had a particularly long trip to go on, so he sent me to Pennsylvania, where his sister lived.

Pennsylvania was partially the best part of my life because of my family. My Aunt Pam was like a second mother to me. She was never able to have another child after my cousin Jacob and she’s always wanted a daughter of her own, so that’s what I was to her. The daughter she could never have. I’d often find her staring at me with a bittersweet smile on her face, watching my every move with a sense of pride, but when I’d ask her what was wrong she’d only brush it off as her admiring me. My Uncle David didn’t necessarily view me as a daughter, but he certainly treated me like one. When he wanted to spend time with Jacob, he included me as well. We’d usually go on drives around the town, but I always fell asleep to the soft and serene music that filled the car from the radio. On the weekends, we would head down by the lake and spend hours learning to fish.

I hated it, but I couldn’t complain. It gave me a sense of certainty to live with a father figure who didn’t leave me alone every two or three months.

Jacob was like a brother to me. He’s a year older than me, which, to him, meant that he had to protect me at all costs. I always assumed it was because he always wanted a younger sibling, and I was the closest he was ever going to get to that. I always felt as though I’d never be able to equal Jacob on an intellectual level because he practically had the IQ of Albert Einstein himself. I felt inferior to him until I found out how much of a joy he really was. On the weekends, he would beg me to accompany him in a movie marathon. I learned that Jacob was a huge fan of Tim Burton (his favorite was Beetlejuice). He’s the only cousin I’ve ever known. Mom and Dad didn’t like each other’s families, so I never met anyone besides this little family. Moving in with them meant that they’d have this huge burden on them.

Yes, I almost forgot to mention that I struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. It just means that my mind is flooded with these crazy and unnecessary thoughts and so my behavior is affected by them. For example, if I were to blink and felt I put more pressure on my left eye than my right, I would have to repeatedly wink with my right eye until they felt balanced. Sometimes I can’t enter a room until I have inhaled eight times. If I scratch an itch on my left knee, I have to scratch the right one in the exact same place. At the sink, even if I don’t use both knobs, I have to hold both in my hands. And when I turn them off, I often have to check about four times before I am certain they’re turned off all the way. I know, it sounds tiring. Just imagine being on my end, having it be a part of who you are. I can’t do anything to stop it, I wish I could. I was always afraid to make friends because of this. If I couldn’t be balanced, I’d freeze, and I mean actually stop whatever I’m doing and stand still, until my body felt as if I were balanced once again. Who wouldn’t make fun of me for this?

Apparently, no one gave a shit about it. After moving to Pennsylvania, I made quite a name for myself at school. Literally. My name was Zip. I have no fucking clue how that ridiculous name came to be, but that’s what I went by day after day. One could say I was considered popular, but it wasn’t like I actually spoke to anyone. When it came to extracurriculars, I only participated in theatre. I never was part of the cast, just the stage manager. Secretly, I wanted so badly to audition and be a part of the magic they created on that stage. Not to boast or anything, but I had the talent and potential to be a starring role. But I could never bring myself to break out of my shell. Nonetheless, being stage manager still got me quite the attention. Everyone was always so nice to me, so I felt a little bad for not considering any of them as friends. That was until I met Dina.

Dina was new to our school sophomore year. She had this sort of light to her that attracted the pesky moths that were our dull and boring school body. We had the same social status in school. People liked our personalities, so we were well-liked and accepted without doing much to prove ourselves worthy. She was sweet and compassionate and so fun. I didn’t mean to become her friend, but she was so welcoming, despite being the newcomer. We became close friends, but not best friends. We already had people filling those roles.

Dina’s best friend was Sydney Novak. Sydney moved to Brownsville around the same time as Dina, so the two became best friends quickly, but Sydney wasn’t very popular at all. She was shy and introverted, but I thought she was nice enough. I liked her and thought she was a pretty cool person. We weren’t necessarily friends, we were just well acquainted simply because we were both close with Dina. The transitive property, if you would. I just wish we could’ve talked more, our relationship was pretty much nonexistent.

Speaking of nonexistent relationships, let’s talk about Richard Berry. I honestly don’t want to even think about him, but he played a role in my life that was too vital to just offhandedly mention. For some odd reason, Ricky Berry was absolutely in love with me. It was so obvious to everyone except for me. Sophomore year, he expressed his love through the most arrogant and cheesiest of pick-up lines and compliments. I wasn’t so easily won over, if you could guess. I tried being good friends with him, but he’d always fuck it up when he tried to initiate intimacy. I didn’t want to hold hands with him in the halls or receive “friendly” cheek kisses. I’m not what you would call affectionate, especially towards people I’m not close to. It’s just never been comfortable for me. Junior year, everyone around me was buzzing with excitement when they heard Ricky was going to ask me to be his girlfriend. The cheerleaders, who got to know him through his high school football career, constantly pestered me with reasons as to why I would be so lucky to date The Richard Berry. Granted, he became less of a dick junior year, so I thought, Why not?, and accepted. Being in a relationship with Ricky was the most one-sided… anything I had ever been a part of. He was undeniably enamored with me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to reciprocate those feelings. He would show me off to his family and friends like a trophy, but if someone asked me if I had a boyfriend I’d go, “I mean, yeah. I guess”, so not a very healthy relationship. It also didn’t help that Ricky knew nothing about boundaries.

One night, we were in his bedroom, studying for a science test. Ricky wasn’t focused at all and kept trying to kiss and cuddle with me. I let him for awhile, but then he took my book from me and set it on the ground beside his bed. He suggested we have sex right then and there. Now, I was never a prude and definitely didn’t wait to have sex for the first time, but I never wanted Ricky to be my first. He hadn’t earned enough of my trust to even touch me suggestively. So, of course I refused. Ricky only took that as me teasing him, so he advanced, nearly forcing himself on me. Using all my might, I shoved him off of the bed. He stood to his feet, utterly confused, but I only gathered my things and left his house. He tried following after me, but I ignored him until he turned and went back into his home. The next day at school, he was holding me and kissing me and showing me off to everyone like he always did. As if nothing happened between us the night before. It was difficult to do, since he was so inconsiderate, but I managed to break up with him. He tried to deny that we were Splitsville for about a week, but everyone caught wind of our break-up. Once everyone knew about it, it became true for him. I never really felt comfortable with being intimate or open with guys after that.

Besides with Stanley Barber, of course. Stan was my best friend in the entire world. I told only my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And he told me his. The only things we really had in common were our lack of mothers and our hideous bacne. Stan lived a few houses down and was eager to get to know me a week after I moved in. I’d never met anyone in my life like Stan. He was so awkward, but loveable. I don’t know, I guess he reminded me of my mom. The way he didn’t care, but he so clearly did. Whenever I wanted to talk about something that was difficult to voice, we’d smoke to ease the tension. Of course, this wasn’t how we always communicated. Despite his nervous stuttering, he was easy to open up to. Stan provided a sort of security in my life. He was never going to leave me and that put me at ease when hanging out with him, which we did regularly. I don’t know when exactly I developed a crush on him, but I never wanted it to surface in our bond. He was to never know. It was just a stupid crush, right? He was a guy who wasn’t family and was so unbelievably caring towards me. It was bound to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to be aware of it. Though, it was a little hard to keep such a secret when we’d both made out twice already. The first time was while I was dating Ricky, the kiss was very awkward and ended after about a minute and a half. The second kiss was just half a week after my breakup. That time, we’d both known what we were doing. And I may be a little biased, but you couldn’t have even thought to fake the passion in that makeout session. We never talked about either of those kisses and remained friends both times. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that we didn’t become anything more afterwards. It was for the best, though, because two weeks before spring break, my dad returned from his job in Georgia and moved me to Kansas again. The move was so abrupt that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone besides my family.

My life in Kansas for the second time was something I’d never want to experience ever again. Since it was a little late in the year, I finished junior year online. For some unexplained reason, my dad had us get new phones and new numbers, so I lost all contact with my friends. I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t like my dad paid much attention to me. I remember spending every waking moment with him when I was younger, talking or playing games or watching television. It used to be so fun being his daughter, but when we moved back to Kansas, I just felt like this huge burden in his life. Our relationship was strained and he clearly had other priorities in his life. Like whatever he left back in Georgia. I’d see his phone ring and the same number from that state would pop up before he’d leave the room and privately talk with whoever. It wasn’t the secrecy that was off-putting to me, it was the fact that it was so much more important to him. Once again, I was ignored by the one person in my life I wanted to spend the most time with. So, you can imagine the joy I felt when Dad had to go back to Georgia for work. I had been attending public school for my senior year and left not even a full month in. It didn’t bother me, I had no friends and nothing to leave behind. Mid-September was when I moved back to Brownsville with Aunt Pam. Everyone accepted me right back in. Especially my classmates. As I walked the halls I heard whispers like,

“Oh, my god, is that Zip?”

“Zip’s back! Where’d she even go?”

“I thought she died.”

The only person I really wanted to notice me was Stan. I missed him so much, I even got into his favorite band to have something to remember him by. I remember the day I got back to my aunt’s house. Jacob had picked me up from the airport and was driving me to the house. He was attending community college, but was still living with his parents. As we drove, he tapped his index fingers rhythmically to the shitty pop music that played on the radio. “So, what are you excited about for senior year?”

“Not much, I just missed Dina and Stan. Theatre, too. I wonder how they’ve been doing without me.” I chuckled. Jacob huffed in amusement.

“But you didn’t miss Ricky?”

“Fuck, Jake, you know I didn’t miss him for a second.” I frowned, waving my hand in dismissal. My cousin tauntingly laughed at me. Had he actually known about what happened between Ricky and I, he wouldn’t have teased me. In fact, Ricky wouldn’t even be alive that day if Jacob found out. No one knew about the incident, not even Stan.

Pulling up in front of the house, we got out of the car and headed to the trunk to pull out my bags. I tried carrying them in, but Jacob insisted that he do all the heavy lifting and simply asked me to carry my backpack and close the trunk. I did what little I was asked of and headed to the front door to greet my aunt and uncle inside, but stopped. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the Barber residence. Turning, my eyes locked on Stanley, who was frozen beside his car. He was wearing his work uniform and staring at me with the most bewildered expression on his face. It was like he thought himself to be hallucinating my existence. Smiling, I simply waved at him before walking back inside. When he got home from work that night, he headed over to my house and knocked on the door. I answered with a grin on my face. “Stan!”

“If it isn’t the famous Zip, showing back up in my life.”

“Ugh, do not call me that.” I rolled my eyes playfully before bringing him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin at the top of my head. I would’ve stayed there all night if I could’ve. When Stanley pulled away, my heart hollowed and a pit formed within my stomach. I felt unfinished, unbalanced. And I hate imbalance. He asked if I wanted to hang out and I accepted his offer. All we did was lay on his floor, listen to music and get high, but in that moment, that’s all I needed.

Bloodwitch, a joint, and Stan laying by my side.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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aceofshitposts · 3 years

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I saw that you like CATS the musical. What are your thoughts on the movie?

AAAAH AHHAHA oh man oh boy y'all should BUCKLE IN cuz it's a ride

my simple thoughts? it's entertaining if only because it butchered the stage show so badly in an attempt to idk modernize it? Well, modernization is one part of it I think. The other part I'll go into below lol. I don't necessarily hate some of the more modern renditions of the songs (mostly the ensemble sets like Jellicle Song for Jellicle Cats) but then others are just... so poorly done it's insulting.

I've said this at the end of this whole rant too but I'm gonna put it up here in case people don't (justifiably) wanna see me go on and on about it:

The movie wasn't made for fans of the musical. It was made to make money and I believe they choose, at least partially, to do that through making it the weirdest and worst possible adaptation they could so that people would want to go see the train wreck. Which, really, worked! It was all people could talk about for a good while so like... Goal achieved, I guess.

A MUCH MORE COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT cuz i don't wanna. flood your dash with... this

ALRIGHT SO. Most of my friends know I'm actually a huge fan of new adaptations of things. I love remakes (provided the people making it are coming at it with some form of heart and not just... cash grabbing which is more often the case) I love seeing other peoples interpretations of characters, or changing settings. It's one of the reasons I like American comics so much, getting to see different writers takes is fascinating.

I think musical movies can be wonderful ways to introduce people to a stage show that might have been unavailable to them otherwise! Chicago, for example, is one of the BEST musical to movie adaptations in my opinion. It kept the heart of the show, it's funny and the song numbers are done really well.

There are of course other famous examples, such as Grease or Bye Bye Birdie. Hairspray was also a wonderful take. These are simply off the top of my head, there are of course more.

CATS in particular has a history. If you go through my CATS tag you may see a few posts from @catsnonreplica which posts photos from non broadway productions of CATS! It's a fascinating read and I love, love, love looking at the other interpretations of the characters! CATS is a musical full of fun and wonderful characters if you take the time to see past the ridiculousness haha and the Korean and Japanese runs of CATS especially have some of my favourites.

How does this relate to the movie, I hear you say well. As you might has noticed the movie's interpretations of the characters is........ lackluster at best and downright uncanny valley at best.

CATS is, at its core, a ridiculous thing. I will fully admit that! But it's fun, it's entertaining and if you pay a little attention you can actually get the plot. (Honestly I don't understand when people complain it has no plot but that's a whole other rant for another day)

The movie was... obsessed with this idea of like... semi realism? Like obviously, as a fan, I think they should have leaned into the over the top character designs but instead we got...w ell:

Bombalurina:

Demeter left and Bomba right. Demeter was actually cut! From the movie which is. upsetting lmao.

Macavity is one of the worst offenders for me:

Macavity was... I wish I could know what the hell they were thinking there cuz it's even in his song? Ginger cat??? THAT IS NOT... A GINGER CAT...... but I digress. I would show more examples but I think you get the point.

So. We've butchered the characters appearances. Okay that's fine but what about their personalities?

ALSO BUTCHERED.

There's... there's a lot to unpack here. Just for context: the Jellicle Ball happens once a year and the Jellicle leader chooses a single cat to be reborn into a new life. In the stage play all the cats who are nominated for this honour are on the older side (Jenny-Any-Dots, Bustopher Jones, Skimbleshanks, Gus The Theatre Cat, and eventually Grizzabella) AND are always nominated by another cat. Not themself, unlike the movie where they all seem to nominate themselves.

Jenny-Any-Dots went from a doting grandmother figure who's celebrated for her selfless volunteering and tireless work into a conceited, vain younger cat who is obsessed with fame.

It's an incredibly strange dichotomy. I don't doubt some of it isn't the result of the uh people playing the characters honestly. I do think some of them did the best they could! I don't really blame Jason Derulo, for example, for Tugger. And honestly, Tugger was probably closest to his stage version (while being a trouble maker, he's shown to show Deuteronomy an immense amount of respect)

Speaking of Tugger! This will bring us to one of the biggest grievances with the movie and that is how they handled Mr Mistoffelees.

So... Ugh. So. We have Victoria as the pov character, which imo is like whatever in the grand scheme of things, and then we have Misto who they have decided will be get live interest cuz... Of course. Misto is shown throughout the musical to be awkward, unsure of himself and well. Really, kinda incompetent. Which is Wild cuz in the stage show he might be aloof but he's fairly confident in his powers.

So, Old Deuts gets kidnapped. In the stage show Tugger is the one to bring Misto forward! It's really quite sweet, imo, and I'm showing myself as a Tuggoffelees shipper here, but again Tugger is previously shown to be pretty conceited but then here he is boosting and hyping up Misto to bring Deuteronomy back. My friends and I have lovingly dubbed this the boyfriend hype song.

SOMEHOW. The movie manages to make this, easily, the MOST BORING number in the whole thing. Which, again, WILD. Misto awkwardly stumbles through his whole song, which again is... Boasting of his supreme magical powers which movie Misto clearly. Does not have or believe to have. The song, to me, feels super awkward and unnecessarily drawn out in the movie which sucks cuz it's one of my favourites in the show.

The declawing (heh) of Mr Mistoffelees actually reminds me strongly of how they changed Gaston in the live action Beauty and the Beast movie. He's gone from a beloved figure in the animated movie to someone so disliked in the town that Le Fou has to pay people off to say nice things about him. It's just. Wild character choices were made!!

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat is probably my favourite in movie non ensemble number. It feels the most... Genuine? Compared to the other nomination songs.

Other problems include but are not limited to:

The inconsistent size scale of the CATS which throws me off constantly.

The weirdly overt sexual overtones added to MANY of the songs (Jenny and Bustopher being the worst)

This is just a personal gripe and opinion but I don't like that they used the UK version of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The American version is both better known and tbh way more fun. Teazer's giggle? Adds ten years to my life every time.

Victoria's added solo song, Beautiful Ghosts, while I like the song as a song it doesn't fit the style of message of the musical. In the movie she's singing directly to Grizzabella who's being an outcast for years that she should be grateful she even has memories of being part of the tribe?? What?? But I know they had to add an original song to be able to be nominated for awards in like the Grammys n shit (which is why all musical movies will have an original song, fun fact!!) kinda funny they went to the effort though considering........... I don't think anyone could have genuinely believed CATS 2019 was gonna win anything but golden rhaspberries.

Movie Mr Mistoffelees has made repeated appearances as my sleep paralysis demon

The various cut characters, shout outs to Jemima, Demeter and Jellylorum especially

Bombalurina being a henchman to Macavity rubs me the wrong way

God I've written... So much. You probably get it by now haha. Like I said at the beginning, I try to go into any adaptation with an open mind but... Let's be honest, this movie wasn't marketed to people who are fans of the musical.

It was marketed, and made, to make money. And they choose to do that through, I think, intentionally making the worst possible version ever. Bad press is still press and the more outrageous people said the movie was the more people wanted to go see exactly what kind of train wreck it was.

Which is a disservice to the stage show, honestly, and all the people who've worked on it over the years.

But what can we do, right?

And besides all that, I do... Still own the movie version and I do still rewatch it on occasion. It is entertaining even if it's in a train wreck kind of way. I usually end up watching the 1998 version, then 2019 and then various tour runs that are on YouTube. (I highly recommend the 2016 tour, it's very good)

So in conclusion. It's fun (?) to watch. I enjoy picking things apart and doing analysis (if you couldn't tell!) so like... I don't hate it?

It did what it set out to do, I guess, and I can't fault it for that but. It's not a fair metre with which to judge the stage show imo. But I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, haha.

Jazz hands. I'm more than happy to elaborate or just chat about CATS if anyone wants! I grew up listening to the Broadway CD since I was a toddler so it's been! A very long standing obsession haha. Probably the only other thing on par with CATS is my obsession with Jurassic Park which I've also been a fan of since I was 3 (but that's a whole story in and of itself)

#astrix thoughts #cats the musical #Thanks for the opportunity to talk about one of my hyperfixations anon!#And to anyone who reads this whole mess lmao

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astrology-with-charu · 3 years

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New Moon at 23º Pisces and 2022 Preview

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New Moon in Pisces brings an opportunity to all of us to mutate, to change, shift, see a new perspective. The last two weeks of Virgo full moon brought up tasks to finish, problems to address, order to be maintained, health to take care of, responsibilities to cater to. We move from there to the opposite side to give the situation another perspective.

I find Pisces perspective always the end of the life scenario but not the morbid kind, more of if you were at the end of life would you be doing this, would you be holding onto this, would you be making enemies or showing compassion. Different perspective same problems. Adding color of love and enjoyment to life. Colouring daily chores, making an uninviting prospect into fun production.

Bookmark this post - http://emailabuddy.com/blog/?p=936

Try to give it an aim over next two weeks so you can seed this and see it grow over next 6 months. Writing, advertisement, marketing, service in healing, life coach, theatre, inspiration, art, music, drama, dance, video, telepathy, entertainment, love, care, devotion, deep sensuality, meditation, philanthropy, films, media, psychic signs, channeling, psychology, naturopathy, self development, volunteering, gardening, paranormal interests, hidden mysteries of life - so many ways to activate & honour this ethereal energy which would stimulate your imagination.

Imagination fuels invention right now, lateral thinking opens a door to something rational. Pisces sitting in between the Sagittarius south node and Gemini north node activates the need to balance the left brain and right brain. Things that seem like creative distractions or even self indulgence can help create specific oneness of focus and bring a much needed bend in the road much like a yoga session, meditation, a swim, emotive music or art does.

Venus Neptune Conjunct New moon

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I will though warn on financial and romantic matters - we could be very much idealising some financing and romantic situations - no muss if you do it flexi Pisces style and stay open to possibilities of things changing. Pisces always see the world that should exist in our dreams cause they are here to create heaven on earth but we should remember this during financial and romantic declarations right now we could be walking thin line.

I always say with Neptune aspect Idealise life not people - idealise the life path, the synchronicity that got you to the right person the right time, the right money, value, creative idea at the right time. Idealise your life path not the person you meet on the path. He or she may not be perfect but your life path is - it’s giving you who you need in that moment.

Heaven or Hell

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All dual signs have the superpower to create heaven or hell - they can divert their immense ability to change directions and situations to shift the current in either direction. Pisces archetype do that with emotions and intentions.

23º Pisces in Sabian symbols stands for “A Materialising Medium giving a seance” This new moon gives opportunity to each one of us to induce our vital energy to substantiate either our conscious ideals or our unconscious desires. If you feel you have a gift, a mission, a mandate in life - we all do - a gift that can be of value to community - you and me need to substantiate that belief with results. In the seance the medium gives her everything - her body, her energy, her soul to what she is creating. There is an underlying sacrifice of self always embedded in Pisces - Neptune life. People don’t acknowledge this fact too many times, but Pisces face many unexplained circumstance in life that don’t allow them to live on the surface. They learn this devotion to life’s meaning and have very clear knowing of life’s fragility. This is realism but not the kind Virgo archetype holds or shines on - this is realism of life - of understanding of life - the kind of understanding & clarity normal humans only get at the end of life of what really matters. Soul enlightenment. Now from that place - what would you create - what you give your life energy to, all of it. All consuming that will survive death of body.

Duality though gives us two roads - heaven or hell - constructive aspect leads to substantiation of a dream an ideal. Shadow aspect leads to deception - sometimes self delusion. What is the motive induced into your seance cause that would determine what we create.

You will seek something beyond your daily experience - we may not know where it is leading. Intuition and faith is a muscle and Pisces new moon helps us flex it strengthen it with a practice. Saddle of Pegasus the winged horse is what the star Markab is called at 23º Pisces. A steady point within us - which helps us go to bigger things - a steady force within you from which will come focused action, knowledge, learning and a new world view of service. We would look at old problems with new glasses, new prespective. We find our saddle in Pisces practices - yoga, meditation, swimming, art, fashion, creation, music, emote - all things that balance our left brain and right brain. That shake off the rigidity, opening our muscles, our body, our chakras - releasing trapped energy - inviting fresh energy of upcoming fire season - new vitality in each part of our body.

2019-2020-2021 : The bridge

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I see 2020 as the bridge between 2019 and 2021 - most of the new moon full moon we are in process of right now - we went through those degrees of activations in 2019. Like this new moon is happening close to the degree of full moon in Sept 2019. So if anything was completed, ended, declared, announced in Sept 2019, you will get a new perspective on it now and you will make a different choice. 2020 changed the structure of our existence, the rules we follow of our life that help us decide the forward course. So when presented with similar choices, you would choose differently now.

2022 Next Cycle

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Neptune would go retrograde at this degree of new moon on 25th June 2021 so some of the idealistic quality of this new beginning will come for discoveries after that - there will be things we would be missing right now. Neptune retrogrades opens those blind spots to us so we have that coming and we should be ready for that. Some of the demystifying idealism is coming up in June - we would be a bit rosy in March but thats part of the charm of Pisces - live a little dream and creativity is killed if its bombarded with reality checks. But in financial matters know that we may not have the full picture.

Jupiter the planet of expansion is moving into Pisces fully after 28th Dec and it will meet Neptune at yes at this spot on 12th April 2022 which would be a outer planet meet colouring global events of 2022. This is a once in 166 years of divine cycle when optimism hits up our dreams and inflated expectations are very much at root of this cycle. We are seeding that cycle right now with this new moon so a bit of inflated expectations are in. But so are prospects for creative genius, compassion, inspiration, positive thinking, divinity. In 1856 when this cycle was last seen in Pisces - Sigmund Freud was born; Frank Baum the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was born ...Robert Peary who claimed discovery of North Pole was born... I can go on... Nikolas Tesla was born - creative genius underlines this cycle which is about to begin in 2022.

But there would also be delusional leaders, bad intention false hopes and inflation which would come with this. Seeds of that also is being planted now in inflated expectations and idealism. This cycle has deep implications for change in religion and spirituality. Also on weather patterns especially linked to floods, hurricanes - the Last Island Hurricane in US which destroyed Last Island was part of last cycle as was a massive church explosion. This was also first year when the Third Party in US called “Know nothing American Party” fought elections. Seeds of American civil war were grown in this cycle as well back in 1856.

End of March - Mars Conjunct North Node

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Mars will be in Gemini for 6 months next year when it would be making a hard aspect to both Jupiter and Neptune. Infact Mars would in conjunction with North Node end of March on 26th March. Words would be said. Last time Mars in Gemini Conjunct North Node was in Jan 2002 - Axis of Evil speech. So time after 21st March when Mars comes close to Rahu or north node and it goes out of bound, it would give us immense energy to get over our fears, its fearless strength which helps us go beyond our bounds but it also makes us go beyond our bounds in words - we can get a bit impulsive reckless and hurtful - be careful of that around 26th March and we would see that pan out in public sphere. World’s most famous whistle blower - Edward Snowden was born with this aspect so you know what I am talking about - we will hear about it in news. But I do expect another Axis of Evil speech from US on Russia with this aspect possibly. Words have power and force and they can be used for intellect at work or imbalance in world.

As I said all dual signs have super power of ability to create heaven or hell - for Gemini that super power is in words. Channel this immense superpower wisely during this time.

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 4 years

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Congrats on 750 and thanks so much for doing this! Can I please request “4. I need to know that you can trust me. Please.” for Tom? Angst to fluff with maybe a dash of smut at the end? I could see either Tom or the OFC say this under different circumstances, but I would leave that choice up to you! Thanks again and also thank you for creating such a wonderful blog:)

Thank you so much for sending this request! I will admit that this is incredibly long at 3.4k words and it 100% got away from me to take on a life of its own. As it stands, I couldn’t make any smut work in it, but I do hope that you enjoy it nonetheless!

Thank you to @vodka-and-some-sass who gave me some very helpful insight on this fic! It wouldn’t be what it is without you!

Warning: language!

Five Stars

“Ben, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I’m swamped working on the cues for-”

“Too busy to pop into our Ugly Sweater party? Nonsense! You must come. It has been ages since we’ve seen you.”

You made a noncommittal grunt, scouring the thoroughly marked script in front of you, ignoring the pixelated face giving you a very stern glare from the screen beside it.

“It starts at eight. Sophie will be so pleased to know you’re coming.”

The screen went blank after his unceremonious goodbye. You rolled your eyes before pulling the pencil from behind your ear to make another note. Ben was a force of nature, had been since you’d met him starting out in theatre, and it was easier just to go along with whatever he wanted whenever he got an idea into his head. Maybe a few hours of fun might do your exhausted mind a bit of good. Clear the clutter and whatnot. What could it hurt?

What was the line between a sweater being so ugly it was awesome and just being embarrassingly terrible?

You were sure you had crossed that line with the getup you were wearing, but there wasn’t time to change as you had already knocked on the door to the Cumberbatch house. You were swept inside from the soft snowfall into a pair of long, lanky arms and crushed against an almost skeletal body.

“It’s been so long! Come on, Sophie can open the wine you’ve brought, and then I need to introduce you to some new friends.”

You followed along without getting much of a word in edge-wise, nursing a glass of red wine thrust into your hand by Sophie before you made the rounds at Ben’s side. Names and faces went in one ear and out the other. Hands were shaken, cheeks of old friends were kissed, and small talk was made. The cheery Christmas music in the background and the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped to loosen you up, and soon you were sitting on the arm of a couch, contentedly people watching when Ben confidently strode up to you, ushering along someone behind him.

“You look positively bored out of your skull, and I have just the solution. I’d like you to meet Tom,” he said with a grin and a flourish, stepping out of the way to present ‘Tom’.

“Tom Hiddleston,” he said, the familiar face sheepish as he held out a hand for you to shake. “Ben has regaled me with great tales of your running around together years and years ago.”

His hand was warm when you took it, smooth and firm and completely enveloping yours with the length of his thin fingers. “I’m sure they’re highly edited versions of what truly happened, all spun to put him in a more attractive light.”

“On the contrary,” he smiled, running his hand through the auburn locks curling behind his ears before shoving his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, “they were tailored to do so for yourself. Perhaps you can tell enlighten me with your perspective?”

And that was how you spent the evening chatting with Tom Hiddleston. You had known that he and Ben were close friends, he’d been mentioned in passing before, but it was one thing to hear about ‘Tom flying to the States to work on a film’ and another to have the full force of Tom Hiddleston and his breathtaking rapt attention clothed in a gaudy Christmas sweater directed at you from close range. It was secretly thrilling to hold the focus of someone so beautiful, to watch his eyes sparkle and mouth pull back into a grin at your jokes and anecdotes. His hands spun tales in the space between you, as expressive and vibrant as his many impassioned tangents. You couldn’t deny the twist of butterflies in your stomach when his hand settled onto the middle of your back and his head craned down to better hear your point over a sudden burst of laughter from the other party guests.

But the night couldn’t last forever, and the glass of spiked eggnog Ben had slipped into your hand was in cahoots with the late hour to make you drowsy. Your poor attempt at stifling a yawn behind your hand did not go unnoticed by the keen blue eyes that hadn’t left you since you’d been introduced what felt like an eternity ago.

“Perhaps we should call it a night,” Tom offered, standing up and stretching languidly. It was pure force of will that kept your eyes from lingering on the peek of pale skin at his hip revealed by the gaudy red bottom of his sweater riding up from the innocent movement.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right. I’ve been working myself to the bone. I’ll just call an Uber and then make the rounds.”

His hand closed over your phone, pushing it gently down to your side. “I was about to leave. Allow me to give you a ride, in payment for monopolizing so much of your time?”

How could you say no to such an earnest face? With his brows lifted into a hopeful smile, you were hooked. “Let me say goodbye?”

You left Tom to wind your way through the mingling crowd, the music and murmuring having leveled off to more intimate levels as the evening wore on. It was easy to find Ben stationed in the kitchen, packing away the leftover finger foods.

“Heading out?” he asked when you handed him a cheese platter, glancing around you before turning to the open refrigerator once more. “Sophie wanted to say goodnight before she went up to bed, but she couldn’t find you.”

Their home wasn’t that big, but you let it slide with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You carefully put your empty glass into the overloaded sink. “Yeah. It’s getting late, and Tom offered to give me a lift back to mine.”

“Oh, Tom?” The interest on his overly expressive face was impossible to miss. “Hit it off, did you?”

You swatted at his chest before pulling him into a quick hug. “Oh hush, you. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face. He’s nice. Come say goodbye, you meddling fool.”

He acted overly offended, hands clutching his chest as he led you back toward the front door where Tom was waiting, already buttoned into his black pea coat. “Meddle? Me? Never!”

Tom’s answering chuckle was filled with warmth as he pulled your coat from your hands, helping you into it without any fuss. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, but I’m inclined to side with the lady. You are far too meddlesome for your own good, Ben.”

“Would it be considered meddling to inform you both that you’re stationed underneath the mistletoe?” Ben asked, a devious smile on his face as he pointed above your heads.

Sure enough, he had cheekily planted that festive decoration right above the front door. Heat flooded your cheeks when you dropped your gaze down to Tom and shoved your hands into your coat pockets awkwardly. “That bastard.”

He shifted just a breath closer to you, so the masculine scented warmth of his body fought against the chill seeping through the front door at your side. “It is tradition. May I?”

When you quickly nodded your silent reply, his hand came up to cradle your cheek facing the room, permitting you a bit of privacy. As soon as your lashes fluttered against your cheeks did he kiss you, a quick, almost chaste brush of his lips, leaving you with just the barest taste of the chocolate he sampled earlier. It wasn’t enough.

You ignored the inferno set inside of you at the simple action and opened your eyes, startled to see Tom still so close to you. His breath fanned across your face, sweet and quick, and his thumb stroked your cheek softly before he released you from the captivating spell of his blown light-blue eyes.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his jacket up around his neck, shooting Ben one last glance. “Thank you for inviting us to the party this evening. I’ll get in touch soon.”

You waved your goodbye before following him outside, mind trying to wrap around being included in Tom’s farewell to your mutual friend. It was surely nothing, as was the way that his hand lighted on your lower back to assist you into the car. You were exhausted. That had to explain why you were so tongue-tied and nervous for the entire drive back to your home.

“That’s me,” you gestured to the side of the road, sitting up straighter in the soft leather seat.

He pulled to a slow and careful stop on the curb. The tense silence that filled the small space threatened to choke you, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for the door. Doing so would be a definite cap on the evening. The spell would be broken and you would go back to the mundanity of daily life without the captivated ear of a handsome gentleman.

Tom broke your sorrowful train of thought, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Allow me to walk you to the door.”

In the spare seconds that you had to compose yourself, all you managed to do was thoroughly inspect a smudge on his rear-view mirror. Cold rushed into the haven of his car when he opened the door, drawing you out by the guidance of his gentle hand. He followed you to the door, towering above you and ducking his shoulders against the frigid breeze that ruffled your hair.

“Thanks for the ride.” You fidgeted with the keys in your hands, worrying the worn metal. “It was much more pleasant than an Uber ride, that’s for sure.” So smooth.

“Will you give me five stars?”

The joke gave you enough confidence to lift your face to his. You startled slightly at how close he was, the fog from your breath swirling together to mix with the scattered snowfall. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart race in your chest. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips against the wind, and the darkness that flooded his pale blue eyes made your breath catch in your throat. Snowflakes caught on his light lashes and tinted his now rosy cheeks. You heard yourself ask, “What have you done to earn them?”

Uncertainty flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before determination ticked in his temple. He stilled the clink of your keys with his hand over yours, using the contact to shift that much closer to you. Hope and the desire that clenched in your stomach bid you to tilt your pouted mouth up to him in offering. He accepted, giving you a warm, gentle kiss that warmed you from the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. The sensitive skin around your mouth tickled from the rasp of his short beard, wholly masculine and surprisingly soft.

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He stayed on your doorstep until you fumbled the keys into the lock with trembling fingers. The last thing visible through the slowly tightening crack in the closing door was his kind smile crinkling around his eyes, bright and full of promise just for you.

If he called the next morning, which would be impossible because you had forgotten to give him your number like a pining idiot, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. You woke to your phone blaring out your ringtone nonstop. It had vibrated itself right off of the bedside table onto the floor so you had to practically fall out of bed to silence it. As soon as you did, another call came through from an unknown number, followed by several texts and emails in quick succession.

“What the?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned back against the side of your bed, opening your texts because you were definitely not alert enough to speak to a living person yet.

’ARE YOU DATING TOM HIDDLESTON?!?!’

‘Was that you in the papers with Tom Hiddleston?’

Practically every person under the sun that you had ever come in contact with had sent you a message or called you, flooding your phone with notifications you were instantly too overwhelmed to handle.

You grabbed a change of clothes, answering the phone on the next ring and shoving it into your ear, not even caring who had called as you gathered your things for a shower.

“Are you alright?”

Ben. “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?”

“I sent you a picture taken by the paparazzi yesterday. It’s all over the gossip magazines and websites. I haven’t been able to get a hold of Tom. I assume he’s been tied up with Luke all morning. Are you alright?”

You didn’t answer him, tossing your clothes onto the bathroom sink so you could flip through your overload of messages to find what Ben was talking about. There, on the front of some tawdry magazine, was a slightly grainy picture of you and Tom from the previous evening. There was no mistaking it. There you were, locking lips with the internet’s perpetually single boyfriend.

Shit. You placed the phone on top of your clothes, hitting the speakerphone so you could turn on the water for the shower. “Nothing happened, Ben.”

“I know that, you know that, and Tom knows that. But the world doesn’t, and several hundred-thousand opinions hold more weight than the truth in this instance.”

Hitting your head repeatedly against the tiled bathroom wall was suddenly far more appealing than the current conversation. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to take a shower. Thanks for checking in, Ben.”

Hair damp and decked out in your softest lounge clothes, you had foolishly expected that the situation would somehow magically improve. But it only seemed to worsen upon leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom. When you peeked out from behind your curtains to see what all the shouting that you heard was about, dozens of men with cameras bigger than your face were visible across the street. They perked up at the movement and their huge black lenses all turned in your direction.

You were trapped. Grumbling, you turned on your heel to retreat to your room when loud knocks pounded straight into your skull, making you practically jump out of your skin with shock.

“Who is it?” you called, pressing your ear against the front door. Who would brave the field of paparazzi to visit you?

“It’s me! Please, let me in,” Tom called.

You hurried over and ushered him in before closing the door against the blinding flashes shot in your direction, blinking the spots from your eyes.

He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I apologize for showing up without an invitation, but I didn’t have your number, and I was concerned.”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the trembling in your limbs at the sudden spotlight thrust upon you, shrugging your shoulders in what wasn’t exactly a convincing act of nonchalance. Desperate to hide from his earnest, ever-observant stare, you went into the kitchen and set the kettle on the burner. “It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s whatever.”

His heavy footsteps matched the roaring pulse in your ears as his long legs quickly closed the distance between you. He carefully took your hand in between both of his, turning you to face him. “You aren’t fine.”

“No, I’m damn well not fine,” you huffed, pinching your nose with your free hand. You dropped your chin onto your chest, closing your eyes as you fought the anxiety gripping your lungs like a vice. “I woke up this morning to my phone blowing up because of a stolen picture with you. I’m sure half of the internet hates me because they think we’re this serious thing now, and any illusion of privacy that I had is dwindling by the second as they try to figure out who the heck I am to either crucify me or congratulate me. It’s just…”

He released your arm to curl his fingers underneath your jaw, lifting your gaze from the burgundy cable-knit jumper covering his chest. The genuine concern that creased his brow and tugged on the corners of his mouth would be your undoing if you allowed yourself the weakness. “It is quite the ordeal, and you didn’t ask for this aspect of our relationship.”

“There isn’t any relationship at all! It was only a kiss. Well, two, but still. It would be one thing if there was,” you paused, allowing yourself the luxury of fully savoring his electrifying touch before pulling your face out of his featherlight hold, “but there isn’t.”

His hand scrubbed over the whiskers muddying his razor sharp jawline before falling to ghost over the curve of your hip. “If there was, what?”

You didn’t know what you were saying, what you had just said and alluded to. Your thoughts were a blur and you couldn’t discern whether you wanted to hide from him or into him. Quickly replaying what you had blurted out in your distracted state, you sighed heavily, the weight of what could not be dragged down your shoulders. What would it hurt to say what had been lingering on your mind all morning? “If there was something between us, maybe all the scrutiny would be worth it. If we were together, and I didn’t have to face them alone. If there was a reason behind terrifying men shouting awful things at me outside of my home. As it is, I’m a prisoner in my home for no damned good reason.”

He took a step away from you, arms crossing over his chest. “A consolation prize, then?”

You wanted to slam your fists onto the countertop, scream and tear your hair out at the confusion and frustration of it all. Instead, your hands flailed uselessly in between you. “No! No, not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, silken voice as tight and guarded as the rest of him. Steely blue eyes held you captive as he demanded an explanation.

What did it hurt to admit your fledgling feelings at this point? “Being with you, it wouldn’t be some consolation prize. You aren’t a-a prize to be won, Tom. I like you, okay? It was fun to talk with you last night, and you sure are one heck of a kisser. Five stars, for sure. I just…” you waved your arms at the throng of paparazzi you could faintly hear gathered outside. “That’s a lot to take on, especially for someone I hardly know.”

His arms fell to his sides and he took a small step toward you. “If it weren’t for the fame, for the fans and the celebrity and the madness of it all, would you hesitate?”

“Not for a second,” you answered instantly. The answer came from deep within you with no thought.

“Well, then…” His hands came up on either side of your face, cupping your jaw. He moved with absolute care, slow and steady with plenty of time for you to stop him at any point. First his forehead rested lightly against you, then his nose nudged along your cheek, and finally his mouth slanted over yours in a kiss so full of passion and intensity that your knees buckled. He held you upright between his body and the counter behind you, hands splayed over your sides and fingertips molded to the soft flesh of your waist.

He tucked your head beneath his chin, nuzzling his cheek into your damp hair. “Give us a chance? Give this a chance.”

You dug your fingertips into the worn wool of his jumper, inhaling the dark and soothing scent of his cologne from your nose pressed into his chest. “Tom…”

“I will handle this, I promise,” he assured you, reaching up to cup the back of your neck, holding you to him. “I need to know you can trust me. Please.”

The tension slowly left your shoulders at the caress of his hand down your spine. You melted into him. “Ben is going to be insufferable when he hears,” you said, doing your best to keep the happiness from your voice, but you were no award-winning actor.

“Let him,” he growled, hooking his thumbs underneath your chin, tilting your face up to him so he could further prove to you with his pillowy-soft lips and coffee-laced tongue exactly why trusting him would be worth all the sorrow and strife waiting just outside your door.

~~~

Whole Shebang Taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @silverswordthekilljoy

#tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston/reader #tom hiddleston x reader #hopeless750celebration #hopelesswrites #five stars

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pudding-head-kenma · 4 years

Note

bruh pls lemme know some good movies to watch :-: like what're your favs bby??

IJASKGNBINHSOKGLASKMGAS OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED YES :D THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRUSTING ME W THAT I’LL RECOMMEND SOME GOOD ONES + GIVE THEIR GENRE/SYNOPSIS . PROBABLY LONG LIST BELOW THE CUT !!:

1. LET’S START WITH MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE MOVIE: mulholland drive - a drama, a mystery and lowkey a thriller - after a car crash, a woman loses her memory. she finds help from a young actress that just recently came to hollywood and together they try to get her memory back, and find out why the amnesiac woman has so much money on her. as they get involved in mysteries, schemes and the hidden parts of hollywood, they fall deeper into a world that they aren’t even sure is real.

2. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind - i would call this a romantic drama! - basically it’s about a couple whose relationship turns sour, and they decide to get a procedure that will delete their memories of each other. it’s honestly such an interesting movie and it’s really tense as you watch strangers, once lovers, dance around each other and systematically forget they have done it

3. magnolia - i would call this a drama - it’s basically a bunch of stories complied into a movie, with characters SEEMINGLY unrelated trying to learn about love, forgiveness, and the meaning of life, lives separated but much closer than they know

4. the music never stopped - drama! - it’s basically the story of a father trying to bond with his estranged son, who recently discovered he has a brain tumour that prevents him from forming new memories. his dad, left without a choice, tries to connect with him through music

5. american beauty - drama - it’s really hard to give this a synopsis, and the ones i see aren’t all that accurate. it’s true that a suburban dad has a lot of sexual frustration, but that’s not necessarily the essence of a movie - it’s a family with a lot of pent up feelings, frustrations, and others

6. gisaengchung (parasite) - drama, thriller(?) - i think everyone might know this movie already but it’s definitely worth mentioning! it’s hard to describe, but try to think of the differences between a high class family and a lower class one. what if hte lower class starts trying to profit from the others? that’s when greed comes into play

7. byōsoku go senchimētoru (5 centimeters per second) - i’d call this a romantic drama, but not with all the focus on romance. romance is the undertone for the drama - this is an animated movie told in 3 instances of someone’s life, when he fell in love as a child, when he lost that love as a teen, and when he’s trying to get over that love, surrounded by the cold world and adult obligations.

8. lost in translation - drama, comedy (i say comedy not bc it’s a comedy just because it’s light hearted yknow) - a washed out actor travels to tokyo for a commercial, where he meets a young woman. they form a bond and start an unlikely friendship.

9. the night of the hunter - it’s a noir film, i’d say a bit more than thriller but not exactly HORROR, crime - a religious fanatic marries into the family of a gullible widow and her two kids. only the kids know their father hid $10,000 from a bank robbery, and there’s something strange about their step dad.

10. beasts of the southern wild - adventure, drama, fantasy (?) - this is a really good take on environmental issues in my opinion. a six year old has to learn courage and love as she deals with her father's fading health and melting ice-caps that are flooding her ramshackle bayou community

11. green room - horror, thriller - a punk rock band is forced to fight for survival after witnessing a murder at a bar. this movie is so nice to watch because it flows really well and you feel really tense

12. inglourious basterds - war, drama, adventure - in france, during the second world war, a group of jewish u.s soldiers come up with a plan to take down nazi leaders, not knowing the owner of a theatre is planning something with the same objective

13. amour - drama, romance - an octogenarian couple’s love is tested when the wife has a stroke, and the husband sees himself forced to change his whole life to take care of her.

14. rosemary’s baby - thriller, horror(?) - a young couple trying to have a baby moves into a fancy apartment, surrounded by peculiar neighbours. once the wife gets pregnant, she becomes convinced that the neighbours are trying to steal her baby for a satantic cult

15. moonlight - drama - the struggles of childhood, adolescence and adulthood, as told by an african american man struggling with his identity and sexuality.

16. el laberinto del fauno (pan’s labyrinth) - drama, war, i’d say thriller sometimes - in the falangist spain in 1944, a bookish young stepdaughter of a sadistic army officer escapes into an eerie but captivating fantasy world

17. oldeuboi - action, mystery - a man is kidnapped and kept prisoner for 15 years. once he’s finally out, he discovers he has to find his captor in 5 days so he can find out why he was kidnapped. in the meantime, he starts a peculiar involvement with a much younger woman, and uncovers secrets he didn’t know he had kept

18. låt den rätte komma in (let the right one in) - crime, drama, fantasy(?) - an overlooked and peculiar boy finds love and revenge in an even more peculiar girl

19. birdman (or the unexpected virtue of ignorance) - a washed-up superhero actor attempts to revive his fading career by writing, directing, and starring in a broadway production. this movie’s synopsis doesn’t give it the proper emphasis but it’s so good. it’s also all shot in the sequence of a day (obviously there’s cuts, but you can’t see them so it looks like only 1 shot and it becomes an amazing experience)

20. the blair witch project - horror - three film students vanish after traveling into a Maryland forest to film a documentary on the local Blair Witch legend, leaving only their footage behind. this movie was one of the first ‘found footage’ films that really sent the genre flying, i would highly recommend

21. for the same reasons above, i recommend [REC] (the spanish one), as it also brought found footage films to the public in the beginning. it’s about a journalist who finds herself stuck on a building with the infected, since the police decided to sacrifice everyone inside for the sake of the virus not getting out.

22. salinui chueok (memories of murder) [trigger: mention of r*pe] - action, crime, drama - in a small Korean province in 1986, two detectives struggle with the case of multiple young women being found raped and murdered by an unknown culprit

23. once - music, drama - a story about a pianist and a guitarist coming together and trying to live out their struggles through music.

24. gokseong (the wailing) - mystery, horror, thriller - soon after a stranger arrives in a little village, a mysterious sickness starts spreading. a policeman, drawn into the incident, is forced to solve the mystery in order to save his daughter.

#THOSE WERE ALL I COULD RMR OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD #I HOPE IT HELPS ANON #anon <3 #danie recs!

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jadelotusflower · 4 years

Text

Jesus Christ Superstar, aka dreadlocks, dreadlocks everywhere

Okay, so I already gushed about how much I love the film, but Andrew Lloyd Webber has put the 2012 Arena Spectacular up on YouTube so I thought I’d share my thoughts about this production which I also love.

I think it’s available for another 24 hours or so, and do recommend:

https://youtu.be/GpO4ohqx3os

So, I actually saw this version on stage and it really was impressive - the Overture hits much harder live.

It’s a simple set; stairs with scaffolding on each side (and the band on stage at all times). It opens with news footage of rising social tensions and protests followed by a masked mob flooding the stage - now you can’t see it very well in the filmed version, but live it was very effective seeing the row of police in riot gear slowly rise at the top of the stairs, banging their nightsicks in time with the music.

It’s pretty obviously inspired by the Occupy movement - Jesus’ followers live in a tent city and use slogans like #romelies and #followthe12 (which makes the line “No riots, no fighting, no slogans” in This Jesus Must Die rather ironic).

I’ve been a fan of Tim Minchin for a long time and I think he makes a good Judas, even if he doesn’t have a traditional musical theatre voice and his writing and performance oeuvre leans towards to comedic. He’s also a pretty outspoken atheist which gives an interesting dimension to his performance imo. He also rocks some white person dreadlocks - as does Melanie C as Mary and a few of the ensemble which...yikes.

I really like Ben Forster as Jesus, who doesn’t have dreads but does have a bit of an unfortunate wig. He does have the voice, and iirc won the role through an ALW tv show (I remember watching the ones they did for Joseph and Oliver! when I lived in the UK, but this was after I came back to Oz.)

What’s the Buzz is actually more prescient in a modern context - a trawling of social media - than when the song was written.

It’s a nice touch that at the end of Poor Jerusalem, Jesus leaves only a few followers - leaving the rest of the crowd behind, to give a stronger visual clue to the turn of the mob.

I’m not completely sure re-imagining The Temple as a nightclub really works, but I can appreciate the new arrangement with the electronic backing. I also appreciate changing the line “See my tongue I can hardly talk” to “See his tongue he can hardly talk” - for obvious reasons!

Mel C was the most talented Spice Girl.

I do like that at when Jesus orders Judas to leave in The Last Supper, he gives this petulant little “as you wish” bow. And that several of the apostles try to stop him, and he is so very heartbroken to leave - it really sells that he’s being ejected from a community of which he was once a prominent, valued member.

I really love this version of Gethsemane - particularly my favourite line of the whole show, and it only appears in this version (that I know of). The original is God thy will is hard/But you hold every card, and is changed to God thy will be done/Take your only son. I just think it’s such a powerful, anguished line.

Again you can’t see it overly clearly in the filmed version, but after the Judas kiss, and Jesus hugs him on Must you betray me with a kiss? Judas starts to desperately cling to Jesus and has to be forcibly removed by the guards.

Peter is so wee! I’m not sure Peter’s Denial works set below ground as it’s kind of hard to believe some homeless drunks would be a genuine threat to him - in the film it works better since there’s actually an off duty Roman solider there.

But I much prefer this version of Could We Start Again Please? Wee Peter has pipes!

When I lived in the UK I had a job where Radio 1 was played all day - so I’m very familiar with Chris Moyles, as he was hosting the breakfast show at the time. He’s fine - I think it’s always a challenge to make a modern interpretation of Herod, and “King of TV” is probably a good a choice as any. The “Is he the Lord or is he a Fraud” text voting is fairly apt though.

The fine print: The results are for entertainment purposes only and do not affect any real votes. The outcome is predetermined by the character of King Herod who really is going to find Jesus guilty of being a fraud otherwise it would be a very short Act 2.

Andrew O’Keefe was Herod in the Australian production. He was also fine.

Trial by Pilate is so very grim. I do appreciate the line from the mob Kill him!/He says he’s God he’s a blasphemer/He’ll conquer you and us and even Caesar which the film excised. It’s also interesting that the mob is contained behind barbed wire - all the power remains with Pilate, and the choice.

The crown of thorns is also made from barbed wire, and the cross is made from stage lights. I feel like I say “that’s a nice touch” I lot, but it is.

John 19:41 is very moving - Mary weeping and rose petals falling from above; the followers create a wall of remembrance. It really is a beautiful piece of music, and when I saw it live you could hear a pin drop.

So yeah, I really love this version too.

#jesus christ superstar #andrew lloyd webber #tim rice #stage musicals #my musical long weekend #my musical binge watch #jlf posts #jlf rewatch

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rosesanthology · 4 years

Text

And Yet... | Akaashi Keiji x F!Reader [musician!AU]

Violinist!Akaashi x Pianist!Reader (yes i saw that one Viria fanart)

Ive been feeling extremely bad these days but im managing to write some things for my emotional support hq boys (Akaashi and Kenma) so here u go even tho its probably a lil shitty 👁3👁 its all about them la la land type of vibes

Warning : i didn't proofread this, also it's VERY self indulgent

Songs : • city of stars from La La Land (but Dodie and Jon Cozart's cover)

• any of the songs in the fic but especially Bach's violin sonata in presto IT SLAPS

[Tags] : @raevaioli

- You've always admired the way human life entertwines itself with art. The vicissitudes of a fleating existence finding a way to express themselves in external stimulations, the way someone could pour as much of their soul, as much as themselves in just one moment, one performance, one artwork.

- it is the main reason why you decided to become a pianist. The second one being that you could hardly put as much effort on anything else

- your mother would argue that it is but a mere childhood dream to do something as uncertain, sure.

- and yet, the first time your performed in front of an actual audience, even if it was just at your high school's theatre auditorium, still felt like the best

- you had registered in the student showcase program without your mother knowing, wearing not the dark blue dress you dreamed of but a hoodie, some jeans and sneakers

- in the moment it seemed fine even if you did look way underdressed than the other kids who registered for piano too

- but it all seemed to tie together with your whole personna as you sat on the stool making sure to put your tiny moomin plushie on top of the grand piano

- he helped a lot

- at that time you played Tanjirou no Uta because well....there's only so much you can expect from a high schooler who lacks confidence in their skills

- regardless of the song your fingers danced onto the heavy keys, the sound swirling with your own emotions as you tried to concentrate on the one thing you wanted the most,

- "Somebody, look at me."

- because there is such a big difference between only being seen by people and actually being looked, observed, analysed

- at the time you wanted someone to look at you and wonder if what they were feeling listening to your piece was flooding their brain the same way it flooded yours

- if the lingering sound of pressed keys made their heart and time stop in the same way it did yours so well whenever you played

- it mattered. In that moment, only that mattered, but sooner or later it had to end

- until then, the only person who was able to exactly tell the things you wanted to convey was your childhood best friend Akaashi Keiji

- he was of wealthier upbringing, his parents always so uptight and pressuring him into their perfect mold in which he seemed to fit so oddly well

- and yet, he always found time to be there for you and help you in your struggles, he was far more musically inclined than you because of his background but his eyes never lost their gentle glint as you would mess up the keys to a piece

- he'd always take his time to let you know how much he liked hearing you play even if you insisted that you weren't as good as him, his smile never wavered as he rested his chin on his palms and closed his eyes, listening to your fifth poor attempt at playing Clara Schumann's sonata in G minor

- that was your typical sunday afternoon in his living room, playing the day away intoxicated in the calmness of his scent of flowers and warm cotton

- when you finished, people didn't seem to mind the choice of the song nor the stuffed toy that added to your whole appearance, if anything you only heard encouragements, advices and heartfelt returns

- among them was Akaashi of course, ever so gentle but marking in his praise, making you feel like maybe you were worth standing on that stage

- it wasn't much compared to what the middle school kids who played Mozart got but, it gave you enough of a push to have the strength to call yourself a pianist today

- nothing really changed in your little world, you still had your moomin plush sitting on the piano everytime you performed and the same simple attitude, now you just knew your classics and could play something else than anime music even if you did manage to fit a little song once in a while

- what changed tho is that you and Akaashi had grown appart after he had left

- his parents had suddenly decided to register him in some fancy music college in Paris

- away from you

- at the time, you knew that no amount of tears and words could possibly matter in the final decision

- but it's not like you could ever control yourself when he held you in his arms like he did when he broke the news to you

- you were never that gracious at goodbyes

- but if it meant that he could get the life he deserved than you were willing to make that sacrifice, even if he wouldn't have the time to talk to you as much as before

- in the meantime you would continue to grow as a person and as an artist if not for you then for him

- and that's what you've been doing for the past four years

- and it is exactly what brought you to accept the offer to perform at another musician showcase tonight

- it was fancier than a high school show that's for sure. It was held in one of these candle lit restaurants, but not the impersonal ones where the tables are five meters away from each other

- it was one of these places where everybody seemed to know each other and relish in the warmth of sharing the same pleasant time while listening to live concerts

- after your own performance you sat back down with the other musicians, talking a bit with the pretty cellist Kiyoko Shimizu, who finished her own before yours

- when the lights dimmed and the next musician stepped on the stage your heart almost stopped

- there stood your dearly missed friend in flesh and bones, violin and bow in hand, or at least you thought so

- he started playing and you watched from the side, amazed, your heart achung with the resonance of the instrument as he gently swayed to such a hard piece as Bach's sonata No. 1 in presto

- the ground and the rest of the room seemed to dismantle around you as all you could think about was the man playing music off of your very heart strings, the man who you've known for a long time and who had been such a huge inspiration and motivation in your existence

- the man who always was so sensible and observant despite coming off as stoic to most people, the same one who was always gentle and motivating all the whilst excelling in what he did himself

- this was Akaashi Keiji.

- and right now he was playing such a fast piece with an unspoken surprising sadness to it as if he'd disappear into ashes the second he stopped, the second he relaxed

- but it eventually had to come to an end, the sound of the strings tearing you appart to reveal the most vulnerable parts of yourself to him like it always did on sunday afternoon practice

- the realization came crashing into you as he bowed to the audience and locked eyes with you, sending you a small smile before disappearing backstage

- naturally, you went after him your breath hitching and your whole being coming to a halt three meters away from him

- you had been way farther away from each other and yet, these three meters felt the worst

- he turned to you, and as casually as if he never left opened his arms for you to run into and that's just what you did

- his own heart was pounding as he caressed your hair, whispering phrases like "it's okay" or "im here now" as you sobbed into his chest

- he still smelled of wild flowers and cotton.

- "let's go catch up outside Y/N?" He said just for you to hear

- he brought you two outside on a bench overlooking the city and its lights but you couldn't help but keep your eyes on him by fear that he'd disappear again

- "w-why are you here ?" you stammered without thinking

- "why you don't want me here ?"

- "Yes- Well no- i mean yes i want you here and-"

- his laugh resonated even more than his violin if that was possible and you didn't have to wait long to feel your face heat up

- "first thing you do is laugh at me...." you said, playing with his fingers on your lap, a thing you did back then whenever he was nervous and started fiddling with his hands, even tho you were the nervous one now

- he sighed, the previous sadness from his playing as if blown away by that tiny impatient breath of air

- "i came back on my own. I missed you Y/N", he smiled again,

- "i missed you too...but what happened to your studies ? You always said you lived for music ?" you incquired, squeezing his hand maybe a little too hard in aprehention

- "i did...i did but i realized many things abroad"

- "like what ?"

- "im a little disappointed Y/N you used to be so good at guessing what i wanted to convey with my music" he said raising an eyebrow at you and laughing once more when seeing the confused look on your face

- "i may have said i lived for music yes and yet...i always knew that i live for you."

#tbh its no secret that i love him i mean #its pretty easy to tell🤡#oh to be able to smooch Akaashi #anyway i wrote this listening to DAGames' Break My Mind #how very anticlimatic #haikyuu x reader #akaashi haikyuu #haikyuu!!#akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi hcs #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #fukurodani #hq!! fic #hq akaashi #hq au

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rulesofthebeneath · 4 years

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@lilmissperfectlyimperfect @oops-metoo @awkwardalbatros

Chapter 3

As much as Grace tried to forget about her weird feelings, the subject of them kept texting her.

Ajay: So, remember how we talked about theatre?

Grace felt like she should respond, but it was an early morning, the sun was shining through her window just right, and she didn’t want to bother to turn off her BiPap. None of this actually prevented her from responding, because she’d fallen asleep with her phone just out of reach on her bed, but she was grasping for excuses. Eventually, she caved.

Grace: Yeah?

It sounded a little hostile, and she wanted to take it back almost as soon as she’d sent it. To his credit, though, Ajay appeared to ignore it.

Ajay: This summer, I’m directing the musical Ragtime at Cedar Cove Community Theatre.

Grace: That’s nice, Ragtime is one of my favorite soundtracks.

Ajay: It’s only been a few rehearsals, but it’s been going very well so far. Skye’s my stage manager, and Rory plays Coalhouse, of course.

Grace: Naturally. They’ve got the baritone for it.

She wasn’t surprised at all. Back in middle school choir, she could always hear Rory’s booming, deep voice from the baritone section across the room. They had always had a talent for singing that Grace was envious of. She had been a good singer herself, but her flooded lungs made things much more difficult.

Ajay: I’m still trying to find someone to do lights, though. It wouldn’t be hard, because Skye’s already set the lights up in the right configurations.

Grace narrowed her eyes at her phone.

Grace: Are you trying to recruit me?

Ajay: Is it that obvious?

Grace: Why? I don’t have any experience.

Ajay: Skye can teach you everything you need to know, and of course I’ll let you know what I think about your lighting decisions.

Grace: Your criticism sounds terrifying.

Despite the sentiment in her text, she laughed a little. She allowed herself to fantasize, for a moment, working tech on Ragtime. She imagined herself up in the cramped booth, with Skye teaching her the controls and Ajay standing over her chair, supervising. She thought of having a headset and hearing his voice in her ear, telling her to correct one of the spotlights or change the color of the backlighting.

She thought about Skye’s small voice calling cues, and Rory’s strong one singing the songs that made her tear up just from the pure emotion. It seemed almost too good to be true, and she told Ajay so.

Grace: It just seems too good to be true.

Ajay: It can be grueling work. During tech week, we’ll be there all day and into the night. You’ll get frustrated, angry, bored to tears, but you’ll also never be happier in your entire life than you will be on opening night.

Grace: I still don’t understand why you want me, but sure. I’ll do it, but you have to promise to let me quit when I mess up too much.

Ajay: I have the utmost faith in you. And if you mess up, I’ll just blame it on Rory.

Grace: Fine, fine. When’s the next rehearsal?

Ajay: Today, noon to six for techs. I can pick you up around 11 and we can get food beforehand, if you’d like.

Dammit, there goes that feeling again, Grace thought as her heart warmed up without her permission.

Grace: Fine by me. See you then.

She checked the time, she had about three more hours until he’d be there. Begrudgingly, she unhooked her BiPap and set up her oxygen, making sure to hook one of the bigger tanks up to her cart. That one should last her all day. She left her room and ambled down the hall to where her family was eating breakfast. They all looked up at her in surprise.

“What?” she asked defensively. “I do stuff too, you know.”

“If by ‘stuff’ you mean ‘sit on the couch watching America’s Most Eligible’, then of course you do,” James said. Grace gave him the best stink eye she could muster.

“Want some breakfast?” her mom asked, quickly standing up and abandoning her own plate of perfectly-cooked fluffy pancakes.

“Sure,” she said, sitting down at the table across from James.

“What brings you out of your cave this early?” James asked. Grace shot him another death glare.

“I got roped into helping with a theatre production,” she said.

Her mom turned around from the pancakes sizzling on the stove. “Oh, that’s great, Gracie! You used to love theatre. I’m glad you’re getting involved again.”

“Don’t get used to it. I told the director he has free reign to make me leave when I inevitably ruin his show.”

“Hm, director. Is that by any chance the handsome gentleman who dropped you off last night?”

Grace ducked her head, her cheeks quickly warming. James saw her reaction, and quickly started teasing her.

“Yeah, I thought you were going to dinner with the Silvas,” he said. “What gives?”

“I was rude during support group, and I didn’t want to see Mrs. Silva’s disappointed face.”

“Grace,” her father admonished. “You shouldn’t be rude to her. She’s one of the few people who really knows what you’re going through.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. So anyways, I didn’t want to go with them but I had already told James not to pick me up, then Ajay asked if I needed a ride home.”

“Took you an awful long time to get home,” James mentioned. Grace glared at him.

“We got lunch and talked, normal stuff.”

“Oh, now that you say it, I think I know who this guy is. Honey,” he asked, appealing to his wife, “Isn’t that the kid who helped Mrs. Silva?”

“With the school play last year? Oh, yes, I think so! He’s a very talented director.”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Grace asked, making pleading eyes at her mother as she dropped a generous helping onto Grace’s plate.

The family begrudgingly agreed, and the talk changed to one of James’ upcoming summer league soccer games. Once Grace got up from the table to clear her plate, though, James followed.

“I didn’t even know you liked guys,” he said in a low tone, trying not to attract the attention of their parents.

Grace could only shrug. “I dunno,” she said. “I really haven’t had much time to like anyone. I might be misreading the feelings.”

“I don’t think so,” James said. “Looks like a classic schoolgirl crush to me.”

Grace hit him with the rag she was using to clean her dishes.

“Go away, I need to get ready. He’s picking me up at 11.”

James wiggled his eyebrows at her, but retreated before she could hit him again.

After she wrestled with her wig for an hour and freaked out about her outfit and makeup for another, she got a text from Ajay letting her know he was in her driveway.

Ajay: I’m here, but no rush. Just a bit early.

Grace quickly threw on an oversized knit cardigan and escaped her room, oxygen cart in tow. When she made it out into the kitchen, her entire family was staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” her father said, being the first one to recover. “It’s just… you haven’t gone out in a while.”

“Be careful,” her mom said. “And tell Ajay that he’s welcome here for dinner after rehearsal.”

Several retorts crossed through her minds, sharp words that she knew from muscle memory. She could see the way her family’s hesitant smiles would drip off their faces into the masks that she knew they only wore for her. Ordinarily, she would’ve let those words fly off her tongue, but…

She was just so tired. Tired of her own happiness always being a battle. There wasn’t much she could do about it, but she could let herself have this. A new friend, a new hobby, and maybe something that took a little weight off her parents’ shoulders.

So she ducked her head, letting a small smile cross her face, and nodded. Then she turned around and left the house.

Ajay was waiting for her in his stupid sports car right out front, and once he saw her, he looked confused but played it off masterfully.

“Nice hair,” he said once she’d gotten buckled in.

“Hmm, thanks,” she said, avoiding looking at him.

“Special occasion?”

“Pretending I’m someone I’m not,” she said.

“Fair enough,” he replied, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road. “I don’t think anyone at the theatre except for Rory and Skye even know that I only have one and a third legs. They might just think I have a bad knee or something, and that’s why I use the cane.”

“Little do they know,” Grace said. “Lucky you, that you can hide it.” She tugged self-consciously at her cannula. No matter if she wore a wig, if she slathered concealer under her eyes, the cannula meant she’d always look sick.

“Just tell them you have asthma,” Ajay said after a few seconds of thought. “And if they give you any grief, I’ll threaten to kick them out of the show.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Grace argued.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t kick them out. I spent far too long choosing the perfect cast and crew for this show. But they don’t know that.”

Grace rolled her eyes.

Thirty minutes, two take-out burgers, and a couple miles later, the two sat inside Ajay’s car in the parking lot of Cedar Cove Community Theatre. Ajay’s feet were kicked up on the dash as he finished off his fries, but Grace felt a little too self-conscious in the fancy car to do something like that.

“So Skye will be a better person to tell you what to do, but essentially you’ll be sitting in the house with her and I. I have your predecessor’s notebook, he made some notes on the first few scenes we blocked before he left, and I’ll give that to you once we go in. You’ll make notes on lighting that might look good, and she and I will both give you some pointers there.”

“And if I mess up?”

“We’ll fix it.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “It seems like you guys can handle this on your own. Why do you want me there?”

It was a challenge, and they both sensed it. Ajay looked like he wanted to say something, but something in Grace’s expression must have changed his mind, because he just shrugged and looked away.

“We need someone to operate the light board, at the very least.”

Grace felt disappointment and relief all at once. As much as his answer had made her heart sink, she had been more scared to hear his actual reasoning.

“I think I can manage that,” she said, barbs returning to her tone. Pushing him away was natural territory, and so was sitting on Skye’s other side when rehearsal started.

Ajay had been right-- there really wasn’t much to do. Her predecessor had already given her a sense of how to draw out the blocking diagrams, and Skye told her that was all she really could do during blocking rehearsals, since Ajay was so prone to changing things around. Occasionally, one or the other of them would whisper a suggestion for a spotlight or a fade out to her, and she’d dutifully scribble it down. It wasn’t difficult work, but she tackled it with more focus than she’d tackled anything in months.

The scenes crawled by, Ajay criticizing more details than Grace could even notice. He’d adjust the angle Rory was facing the audience with, and would tweak it for five full minutes until he was happy. Skye wrote everything down until her copy of the script had more eraser shavings on it than actual words.

Watching them work was intoxicating for Grace. They were like a well-oiled machine, catching every tiny thing wrong with a hand gesture or a prop placement and shifting it until everything just fit. There was no other way to describe it. On first run through the scene would be good, but something was always missing. Ajay’s job, Grace realized, was to find that thing. Skye’s was to record it for posterity. And they were good at it.

By the time he finally called for a fifteen minute break, Grace was overwhelmed. While Ajay patrolled the theater, possibly in search of that missing something, Skye noticed Grace’s internal struggle.

“Want to go somewhere quiet?” she asked.

Grace nodded quickly, and stood up as fast as she could without passing out.

Skye’s lips curled into a small, nearly invisible smile, and then she led the way to the tech loft.

It was on top of a rather nasty set of stairs, but with Skye close behind and carrying Grace’s tank, it was bearable. Once they got to the loft, though, Grace sat heavily in the closest chair and caught her breath. Skye sat carefully across from her, looking out onto the stage.

“This is the booth,” she said. “It’s where we’ll be during performances. You, me, and the sound guy.”

Grace cringed at the thought of having to climb those stairs every night. Once again, she cursed her stupid lungs. Why couldn’t they just work?

“How did you… get started… here?” Grace choked out.

Skye ignored the coughing, which Grace was grateful for.

“Needed to get out of the house,” she said. “I’m head tech at Berry, so it’s something I’m good at already. I danced some before I got sick, but after I went into remission I was too weak to do that, so I started poking around in the tech booth, and here we are.”

“You had leukemia, right?”

Skye nodded once. “ALL,” she said. “Pretty much the easiest cancer to cure.”

“Chemo can’t have been fun, though. Especially being young like you were.”

“Eleven when I was diagnosed,” Skye admitted, lowering her eyes. “It wasn’t. Less so when my parents decided to use me as a guilt weapon against their competitors.”

Grace furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Nothing,” Skye said, her face blank again. Grace recognized the trick; she also knew how to turn her features into a mask at the slightest provocation. Skye had let something slip that she’d rather keep private. “Just frustrated. Don’t worry about it.”

Grace let it go with a nod, and Skye turned back to the light board, pulling the dust cover off.

“This is your station. Basically, this is how you’ll get the right lights turned on and off.”

Skye held out a thick book for Grace to take. “The manual,” she explained. “It’ll be easier if you’re familiar with it.”

“Well, I don’t have much else to do,” Grace muttered under her breath. Skye heard her, and she arched a single thin eyebrow. Grace swore she saw the hint of a smile on her dark lips. That ghost of a smile filled her with a sense of belonging, a sense of home there in the foreign booth. She never wanted it to stop.

Grace and Skye talked over the board and lighting operations, soft voices filling the small booth, until Skye looked over at the clock.

“Time to go back,” she said. Grace sighed.

“It’s too overwhelming down there. Can’t I just stay up here with you?”

Skye seemed to soften a little bit.

“I wish,” she said. “But we have a lot of work to do.”

Grace rolled her eyes, but took the hand that Skye offered her to help her up. Before Skye turned fully around, though, she bit her lip and looked directly at Grace.

Since the other girl was still holding her hand, the effect was a little overwhelming. Grace resisted the urge to step back, and instead stared right back into Skye’s blue eyes.

“I know this is all kind of intense,” Skye said softly. “But it really helped me. Maybe it’ll help you, too.”

Help me? I don’t need help, Grace immediately wanted to fire back, but she closed her mouth just in time to keep the words from escaping.

Skye seemed to recognize her mistake, but Grace shrugged both the words and the person who’d said them off with a tight nod, She carried her own oxygen down the stairs, even though it took her twice as long as if she’d accepted help.

It seemed like everything she did these days was to prove a point.

As soon as Grace made that realization, fatigue washed over her. It wasn’t the ordinary, sick-person fatigue, but a social fatigue. She didn’t like having to keep these walls up all the time.

Rehearsal continued at a turtle-like pace, but Grace found the entire process a little mesmerizing. It was like watching a tower being built, starting with the foundation.

Hours later, the clock struck six and Skye wrapped up rehearsal, reminding the actors about when to be off book.

“...And I’ll send out an email with notes tonight,” she concluded. With that, everyone stood up. Ajay stretched out and pulled his blazer back on; he’d shed it sometime during a big group scene.

“Need a ride home?” he asked Grace.

“Yup,” she replied, shaking her legs out before standing up. “Oh, and before I forget, my parents invited you to dinner.”

Ajay’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Grace replied, trying not to look at him. His smile inexplicably made her want to smile too.

“That’s great. I was dreading going back home and facing my mom’s boyfriend. I’d love to come.”

“Good, they’ll be happy,” Grace said noncommittally. The wave of fatigue washed over her again. It was taking effort to appear bored, to pretend like she was uninterested in the world. Even her face muscles just wanted to let loose and smile back, and her brain was a little curious about how Ajay would react. But she suppressed it. No sense getting entangled in whatever this was.

Twenty minutes later, the two were walking up the front path to Grace’s house. They both took their shoes off on the porch before heading inside.

Grace’s mom caught sight of them immediately and abandoned her cooking, wiping her hands on an apron before walking up to them. She and Ajay shook hands.

“You must be Ajay,” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lee,” Ajay said, a polite smile on his face. “You have a lovely home, and the cooking smells wonderful.”

Grace rolled her eyes, but her mom seemed pleased.

“You’re very kind. And call me Rita, please. I have to go back to cooking, but Grace will show you around.”

“I will?” Grace asked, half-joking.

“Unless you want to cook,” she said. “Your father was called for dinner service, so it’s just the four of us tonight.”

Grace said nothing as guilt grew in her heart. She knew full well the only reason he worked such long, hard hours was to pay her medical bills. He hated missing family dinner, and here he was missing it again because of her.

Her mom had gone back to cooking, but Ajay had noticed the darkness growing behind her eyes.

“Come on,” he said, “You’re supposed to be showing me around.”

Snapped out of her guilt spiral, Grace nodded and stepped into the living room.

“Living room, kitchen, dining room, bathroom,” she said in a monotone voice, pointing to each room as they went. “My parents’ room and James’ room are both upstairs, but mine’s down here because stairs are kind of hard for me.”

“Understandable,” Ajay said. “Can I see it?”

“My room?”

“Yes. I think one can tell a lot about someone from their room.”

“You’re going to psychoanalyze my bedroom. Why did I invite you over?”

He laughed, and she rolled her eyes even though his laugh made her want to giggle. It definitely made her blush.

“Alright, then,” she mumbled, and led the way to her room.

It wasn’t much, a small but bright room with pink paint on the walls and her bed nestled into the corner. She hadn’t really had much cause or means to decorate the walls, but the floor and bed were covered in books, and her laptop laid open on the bed.

“Interesting,” Ajay said, looking around the small room.

“Interesting?”

“It kind of looks like mine, honestly,” he said. “Save for the paint. Mine’s green. And my books are a little more organized than yours.”

“So what are you learning about me from that? That I’m clumsy and messy?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning against her door frame, “but also that you’re a big nerd.”

“Nerd?” she asked, nearly laughing from surprise. “How do you figure that?”

“The sheer number of books is a dead giveaway,” he said, and then he crossed over to her bed before she could stop him and picked up a thick book with a blue cover. “And does any non-nerd read about advanced differential equations for fun?”

Grace’s cheeks turned red, and she moved to sit down in her desk chair because she was getting a little tired from standing for so long.

“You got me there. I’m a closeted math nerd.”

“I can tell,” Ajay remarked, flipping through the book. “How can you stand this stuff? I barely passed trig.”

“I don’t know, I just like it. Maybe I have a brain for math.”

“You and my mother,” he said. “She’s a math and physics professor at the community college.”

“I think I would’ve gone into physics,” Grace said. “You know, if I’d stayed in school and stuff.”

“Would’ve? There’s no reason you can’t still.”

“No college is going to accept a high school dropout, Ajay.”

Ajay furrowed his eyebrows. “You can get your GED, though,” he said. “It’s just a test. I’ll help you study for it, but if you can understand this stuff then you’re definitely smart enough to pass.”

“I don’t know.” Grace didn’t want to plan too much for the future. Especially because she most likely didn’t have one. “Maybe,” she said, just to get him to stop talking about it.

He put the book back down on her bed. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, his expression curiously soft, a knock at the door frame startled them both.

James stood there, a shit-eating grin on his face and mischief in his eyes.

“James!” Grace said, surprised. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“I wasn’t until now. Hi, Ajay. Nice to officially meet you.”

Ajay nodded. “Yes, good to meet you. How’s your summer been?”

“Oh, it’s been fine,” James said. “Mostly summer league baseball. But Grace makes me marathon America’s Most Eligible with her when I have free time.”

“You like AME?” Ajay asked incredulously as Grace shot James a death glare.

“She loves it,” James said before Grace could say anything to defend herself. “She’ll watch entire seasons in one sitting, it’s actually impressive.”

“Shut up!” Grace managed, shoving James with the small amount of strength she had. Ajay just laughed.

“You continue to surprise me, Grace.”

“Anyways, Mom says dinner’s ready,” James said, then disappeared from the door frame.

“We’d better go,” Grace said, “or else he’ll eat everything and leave nothing for us.”

Ajay extended a hand to help Grace up.

“Who’s your favorite? On AME?”

Grace stared at him.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “We all have our vices, Grace.”

Dinner went by uneventfully, Grace’s mom somehow knowing which questions to steer clear of. After the sun finally set, Grace walked Ajay out to his car.

“Thank your mother for dinner for me,” he said.

“You already thanked her five times, but I’ll tell her again.”

“It never hurts to be too polite. It’s important that I impress your parents.”

That statement confused Grace. “Wait, why?”

“Oh, never mind,” Ajay said, brushing the question off. Grace let it go, but she really wanted to know why he’d wanted her parents to like him. So she just squinted at him.

“I should go,” he said, patting the top of his car absent-mindedly.

“Thanks for coming over,” Grace said. “It was nice.”

Ajay’s smile reemerged, lighting up the dusk. “It was. See you later?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Monday, right?”

He nodded. “Goodbye, Grace.”

With that, he got into his car. Grace almost felt disappointed as he drove off, but she couldn’t understand quite why.

#Ajay Bhandari #ajay x mc #hssca #High School Story #high school story fanfic #high school story class act #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #playchoices #gloria writes #ria writes #my fanfic #moof

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nothingeverlost · 4 years

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Fic: Henry Gold (5/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up. Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

A/N: Very Henry-lite, but . Emma meets Mary Margaret, a pregnant girl, and applies first aid. More show dialog than past chapters.

"You had us all worried, Henry." At Henry's request Emma walked him to school the next morning. They were greeted in the playground by a woman with short hair who looked strangely familiar, though Emma knew that they'd never met. "I'm glad you're safe."

"Thanks Miss Blanchard. I have to go talk to Paige. Bye Emma, thanks for walking me." Henry was off before Emma had a chance to respond. Ever since the call had come from Franklin's that it would be at least a week before her car could be repaired, thanks to a part that needed to be ordered, Henry had been much more relaxed.

"So you're Henry's teacher." Who happened to be the woman that Henry thought was her mother. The mother who was, from the looks of her, the same age as Emma herself. "I'm Emma. I'm, uh…"

"His biological mother. You're also the one that got him and Archie out of the mine." Miss Blanchard shrugged. "It's a small town, and there's not a lot to talk about. News travels fast. Also he apparently used my credit card to find you, or at least I assume that’s why a site called www.whoseyourmama showed up on my bill."

“I don’t have much experience with small towns.” She wasn’t used to people knowing much about her, either. She was more used to stolen credit cards, but hadn’t realized that Henry had inherited that talent. Was stealing hereditary? If so he came by it honestly.

“Sometimes if can be really wonderful, having so many people know you. Sometimes it can feel lonely, when it feels like nothing ever changes.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I have to take some of the blame for yesterday, and for you being here.”

“Because of the credit card?” Emma wondered if Henry would have still run for the mines if she had never been in the town. If he had would he have found a way out?

“Because of the book.” Mary Margaret looked to the corner of the playground where Henry was sitting and talking to a little blond girl. It was the first time Emma had seen him with a kid his own age.

“You’re the one that gave it to him?” That was weird. Or maybe it made sense. She gave him the book so maybe seeing her as one of the characters was logical, for a ten year old. And if his teacher was a character in the book then he’d just started naming other people too. “Why?”

“Henry is a very special boy, so smart and creative. But he’s also very lonely. Perhaps because of who his father is, or because he’s so clever he’s never been very good at making friends. I thought the book could help.”

“How does a book make him less lonely?” For a moment she was back on the bed in one of her group homes, walkman playing music through her headphones and a book in front of her. She knew what lonely felt like, but her books and music had been a shield, not a solution.

“What do you think stories are for? These stories are classics. There’s a reason we all know them. They’re a way for us to deal with our world. A world that doesn’t always make sense to adults, let alone ten year old boys.” Mary Margaret sighed. “What’s the first fairytale you remember someone reading to you?”

“I didn’t get a lot of storytime.” There had been a family once, that had almost kept her, but then they’d had a child of their own. She’d tried to forget most of that home; it made the rest of them harder. “I remember sneaking into a theatre to see Hunchback of Notre Dame once.”

Mary Margaret bit her lip, looking a little like she wanted to cry. People raised in happy homes with parents usually assumed that everyone else had the same. “I gave the book to him because I wanted Henry to have the most important thing anyone can have. Hope. Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”

Emma was grateful when the bell rang and kids started running for the building. She didn’t want to know what Mary Margaret’s next question might be.

“It was nice meeting you, Emma.” Mary Margaret offered her hand, but before Emma could shake a bird landed on her finger.

“Yeah.” Maybe Henry’s stories were getting to her too, because for just a second she could understand how Henry could look at his teacher and see Snow White. “I’ll see you around.”

“Are you okay?” All she’d wanted was a cup of coffee, but she’d barely managed a sip before spilling it on her shirt. The diner’s owner had directed her to the laundry room of the bed and breakfast next door to clean up. Now she was faced with a very pregnant and very unhappy pregnant teen that reminded her way too much of herself. Well, except for the lack of a prison jumper.

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now.” She rubbed her belly, one hand resting on it even when she poured bleach into the washing machine. Apparently the sheets weren’t supposed to be pink. Emma remembered waking to find her hand on her belly, feeling the movement inside and forcing herself to move her hand, wrapping it around the metal frame of her cell bed.

“Ah.” What could she say? Labor was scary and painful, but being that pregnant wasn’t comfortable.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything.” She looked down at her belly. “Maybe they’re right.”

“Forget what they think, what do you think?” She didn’t let herself think about what it what it would have been like to keep her kid. It hadn’t been possible and it wouldn’t have been Henry’s best life. She’d made her only possible choice, but that was her. “What do you want for you and what do you want for this kid?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“A year older than I was.” And from the looks of her not living on the street at least.

“When you had a kid?” The girl frowned, as if it had never occurred to her that someone else might have been in the same boat.

“Yeah. Everyone loves to tell you what you can and can’t do, especially with a kid. For me the right choice was adoption but I was the only person that could make that choice. You’re the only one that can decide for you.” Hopefully the mayor wasn’t still looking for a kid. The idea that she could have been Henry’s mom was still unsettling.

“You don’t understand. Sean’s father…”

“Doesn’t get to make decisions for you.” She didn’t wonder where this ‘Sean’ was. Clearly he wasn’t interested, nor was his father grandparent material. “You just got to punch back and say, ‘no, this is who I am.’ You want people to look at you differently? Make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself, because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.

“Gold?” Emma was restlessly wandering the kitchen, trying to decide if she wanted hot chocolate or a drink from Gold’s decanter when she heard him come down the stairs.

“The alarm from my shop is going off.” He wore an overcoat and a scarf. She’d taken the trash out earlier and it had been see-your-breath kind of cold. That was more than an hour ago.

“Did you want me to come with you?” Apparently small towns didn’t have security patrols that answered alarms. So far as she could tell they had one sheriff, and that was about it.

“No, it’s probably just a stray cat trying to get someplace warm. I won’t be gone fifteen minutes. Henry’s asleep, I turned off his lamp before I came down.” He glanced up the stairs.

“Don’t forget gloves,” she suggested before going back into the kitchen to make hot chocolate with cinnamon. Just thinking about being outside made her cold. She drank her chocolate while wandering the rooms, looking at the photos on the walls and the odd trinkets. There was one display case that held nothing but a teacup with a chipped rim; she wondered if the chip made it more or less valuable. There were pictures of Henry all over the place, one tops of tables and hanging on the walls. She lost count of how many bookcases there were; Henry’s room had a couple as well. Gold probably did too, though she hadn’t seen his bedroom.

Emma was washing out her mug when she glanced at the clock and realized it had been more than half an hour since Gold had left, twice the time he’d expected to be gone. If it was a false attempt to enter the shop he’d be back already; they were only five minutes away. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number. It rang five times before going to voicemail.

“Crap.” The way she figured it she only had one choice. She called the sheriff to ask for a ride.

“Gold?” She didn’t have a gun with her but she was fast and she was sneaky. She had the door to the shop open before Graham caught up to her.

“Potential crime scenes are in my job description, not yours. You should let me go first,” Graham suggested.

“Habit,” she said with a shrug, scanning the room. “This is not that different from what I do.”

“Professional thief?” There was a hint of humor in his voice that was probably inappropriate but almost made her grin despite her worry. If anything happened to Gold Henry would be inconsolable.

“Sort of the opposite. I’m a bail bonds person.” At least that was part of her job. She did some bounty hunting as well but that was a little less official and she was talking to the local law.

“Not something we’ve ever had much use of around here.” There was no one in the main room of the shop so together they moved through the curtain to the back. Gold was on the floor and he didn’t look like he was moving.

“Shit, shit, shit.” She turned on the switch, flooding the room with light. Gold’s chest rose and fell so that was something, at least, but he didn’t flinch at the light.

“I’m going to check out back.” Graham headed for the door. Emma knelt next to Gold and looked for injuries. When she rolled him to his back his hair fell to one side and revealed a bloody gash near his temple. She didn’t know if the fancy squares in his pocket were supposed to serve any purpose but they were the first thing she grabbed to staunch the blood.

“I hope 911 works in this place.” She’d never lived in a town small enough to wonder before.

“Don’t bother on my account.” Gold struggled to sit up but Emma’s light hold on his chest was enough to stop him. She didn’t realize at first glance how bloodshot his eyes were.

“Slow down there, champ. Bleeding out on your own office floor is going to make for a pretty embarrassing story.” Emma frowned. She should probably ask him some questions or something, but the whole ‘do you know who the president is’ thing never made much sense to her.

“Bleeding?” His hand went up to his head, fingertips coming away sticky and red. “I must have hit the corner of the desk when I fell.”

“You fell?” Graham closed the door when he came back in, and the lack of a draft made the place feel warmer.

“Must have been an uneven patch on the floor. I should have turned the light on.” This time he did sit up, wincing a little as he did so.

“There wasn’t anyone else in here?” Graham looked skeptical, which was fair because Emma knew that Gold was lying through his teeth. It was the first lie she’d caught him in.

“No one but me and my shadow.” He grasped for his cane but didn’t try to stand. “Thank you for your service, sheriff, but it was a false alarm. I’m sure Ms. Swan won’t mind driving my car home and you probably should get back to a warm bed somewhere.”

“I could follow you home just to be sure,” Graham offered. He seemed to be reluctant to leave.

“We’ll call if we need you.” Gold sat perfectly still until Graham was gone and the sound of the front door closing meant he’d left the building.

“Are you going to tell me now why you were lying?” Emma stood and held out her hand. After a moment Gold held on firmly and let her help him to stand. She didn’t comment on the fact he’d needed help, or that he leaned on the cane more heavily than usual.

“I’d rather wait until we’re home, if you don’t mind. I don’t like leaving Henry alone in the house. If you wouldn’t mind locking the back door, please.” He limped towards the front without waiting for her reply. She made note of the fact that the lock was pretty crappy and there was a pane of broken glass that she would bet anything wasn’t broken an hour ago. Calling it locked was a joke, really. The front door at least had a bolt.

“So are you going to tell me now?” she asked when they were back at the house and she’d run upstairs to check on Henry. He was still sleeping. Gold was patting his face dry with a towel, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. “Do you need a bandaid?”

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “I’m having a drink, would you like one?”

“I’d like the truth.” She took the drink, though, when he led her out of the kitchen and into the library.

“There was someone in my shop tonight. A young woman that clearly needed help; she was quite wound up, not acting like herself at all.”

“And she hit you?” Who in the world broke into a pawn shop and stole things?

“No, no. She used pepper spray on me, threw me off my balance. I really did hit the desk.” He touched his wound lightly with a couple of fingers and winced. At least it wasn’t bleeding. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“You know her?”

“She’s a client, of sorts.” He paused for a moment to sit on the sofa, raising his leg to rest on the ottoman. “You see, Emma, there’s no lawyer here in Storybrooke. I’m rather good with contracts, and sometimes people come to me for help with deals. Ashley Boyd sought me out a few months ago. She’s a young girl, only a year out of high school, and there’s a babe on the way. Neither her family, such as it is, or the father are helping her. She wanted to discuss options.”

“You were brokering an adoption?” She had a sinking suspicion that she knew exactly who he was talking about. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she’d talked to a young pregnant girl hours ago about ‘punching back’ and a young pregnant girl had broken into the shop and assaulted Gold. Great.

“I was. There’s a couple here in town, actually, that has been trying for years to have a child. They have a nursery ready and names picked out. I have a keen interest in helping families find each other.” He glanced towards the hall and the staircase going up to his son’s room. “She never seemed happy but she was relieved that someone would love and raise her child. Perhaps reality is setting in now that she’s so close to having the baby. She was raving about changing her destiny, and something confusing about godmothers.”

“Where is she now?” Shit, it was the same girl. And a family that might not get a baby they’d been waiting for, but if Ashley wanted her baby she deserved that chance. Either way someone was going to lose.

“I don’t know. She lives at the bed and breakfast and doesn’t have a car. Her parents are both dead but there’s a stepmother. I didn’t want to send the sheriff after her, she doesn’t need a record for one confused moment, but we should find her.”

“In the morning.” She frowned, and wondered again about his wound. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? How do you know it’s safe to go to bed?”

“I’m far too stubborn and thick-headed for a little bump to cause any problems.” He downed most of his drink in a single gulp. Maybe the drink helped, because he was more steady on his feet when he stood and left the room. Emma was about to follow when her phone rang. It was a Maine area code.

“Hello?” She hadn’t given her number to anyone except Gold and the guy at the repair shop. It was a weird time to be calling about her car.

“I just wanted to be sure you made it home safely. No ill effects?” The sheriff’s voice was easily identifiable.

“Are you really conscientious or really bored?” She didn’t bother asking how he had her number. She was curious why he’d gotten it.

“Actually I have an ulterior motive. I have discretionary funds in my budget for a deputy, and since your job isn’t that different I thought you might be interested.”

“I’m only in town for a week.” Less than that now, but she wasn’t counting the days.

“Are you sure? I can offer you dental, as well as donuts. The hours are flexible and the boss is easy to work for.” He laughed, and Emma found herself smiling. She couldn’t say yes, though. She had a job and a life in Boston. Well a job at least.

“Donuts, really?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Sometimes the cliches are true. I know a place that makes really good donuts. Maybe I can show you, even if you’re only staying a week. And maybe you’ll change your mind about staying.” He reminded her of Henry for a moment. “Anyway the offer’s genuine if you change your mind. Both the job and the donuts.”

“Thanks.” She couldn’t accept the job offer, of course, and it probably was a bad idea to go out with Graham even if it was just donuts. Donuts could easily mean coffee too, and then they were heading into dangerous pseudo date territory. This time next week she’d be in Boston. Leaving behind Henry would be hard enough without making friends with more people.

Emma drained her glass and carried it into the kitchen before heading up to bed. She deliberately didn’t check in on Henry before closing her bedroom door. She didn’t need it to become a habit.

#verse: henry gold #emma ruth swan #henry gold #mr. gold #graham humbert #my fic #mary margaret blanchard

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radiosteve · 5 years

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Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 3

Summary: Being left alone with Roger, even for a few minutes, confirms him to be just as cocky as you thought he’d be. However, he also invokes something else within you that you never would have expected. The boys discuss what the band should be called. As the band grows in popularity, a certain feeling within your heart does as well.

Note: Sorry this part took a little longer, I barely had time to write because of the 4th of July. But, I hope you enjoy this chapter!! It goes a little more into the reader and Roger’s feelings but there is still much more to come. Freddie will actually get to talk in the next chapter, I just didn’t feel like there was a good place for him to come in. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!

Warnings: Some language

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 2.4k+

October 14, 1968

The two words echoed throughout your head immediately after they left Brian’s lips. Of course the drummer that is finally adequate enough to be apart of the band is the one that just so happened to walk in on you and Tim. It also didn’t help that Roger was extremely attractive, and from what you’ve witnessed, pretty cocky. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the ring of the landline on a desk in the corner of the theatre. Brian rushed to the phone, hastily answering it as you stood watching him from across the room.

“Yeah, ok. I’ll be there in a second. Just hold on,” he said into the receiver before hanging up. You looked at Brian with raised eyebrows, silently asking him what the phone call was about. As if he read your mind, Brian walked towards you and his bandmates to explain. “The guy at the front desk said that his shift is up so we need to get the keys from him to lock up when we’re done. I’m going to go grab them,” he looked at you and then shifted his glance quickly over to Tim. “Tim, why don’t you come with me.”

Tim shrugged his shoulders and followed Brian to the door, knowing better than to put up a fight. Once the door was closed, you slumped back onto the couch that you practically lived on at this point. Roger came up and sat beside you, leaning back against the couch before crossing one leg over the other.

“So,” he spoke, turning his head towards you as you peered up at him. “You and Tim are quite the cute couple,” he chuckled and you narrowed your eyes at the drummer.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Tim and I aren’t dating. It’s just a mutually beneficial relationship that primarily consists of sexual acts,” you snapped while he just rose his eyebrows higher at every word you spoke.

“So, you’re just fucking then?” Your eyes widened at how blunt he was, but you nodded. “And you’re an American?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Uh-huh. Grew up on the Jersey shore, not that that’s any of your business either,” You sat up as he laughed at your cheeky comment.

“If you’re from New Jersey then why don’t you have a horrendous accent?” he leaned in closer to you, mesmerizing you with his beautiful blue eyes. They reminded you of the ocean water back home and you could practically hear the waves slamming against the sand.

“I don’t know. No one that lives near me has a thick Jersey accent. Guess you’d have to go a little farther north,” you practically whispered the end of your sentence, so enticed by everything about Roger. It wasn’t just his big, precious eyes that drew you in. It was his shoulder length hair that’s color fell somewhere between blonde and brown. It was his feminine face in combination with his rough hands and raspy voice. Everything about him seemed perfect and it almost made you feel dizzy. You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of Brian and Tim reentering the room. You and Roger pulled back from each other as Brian set the keys on the table closest to the couch. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized how creepy it must have been for you to have been staring so intently at Roger. Little did you know that Roger had been lost in a similar train of thought about you.

Brian took a seat in between you and Roger on the couch as Tim pulled over the drum stool and sat opposite of the couch. Tim flashed you a wide smile and you tried your best to return the favor. A wave of exhaustion flooded over you, finally feeling the effects of many drum auditions and two bouts of embarrassment. You stretched up to lean your head on Brian’s shoulder and close your eyes for a few minutes. Brian shifted his head to make you more comfortable and began to speak quietly enough to not disturb you.

“I know this is a little premature, but does anybody have any names in mind? For the band, I mean,” He tried to move his head to look at Roger but found it rather difficult to do so without waking you up. The boys softly debated for almost an hour, while you still slept soundly on Brian’s shoulder.

“I think it’s a great name!” Tim whisper yelled as Brian and Roger rolled their eyes. “What’s so wrong with the band being called ‘Staffell & Sons’?”

“Number one, were not your sons. And number two, we’d sound like a bloody construction company,” Roger asserted, gesturing wildly to accentuate his point. Just as Tim was about to bite back with a snappy comment, you started moving around and mumbling in your sleep.

“The hell did she just say?” Tim looked at you with curiosity and confusion etched across his face as you stopped moving. Brian turned his head the best he could to catch a glimpse of your face, bringing a smile to his lips when he saw the corner of your mouth turned up in a grin.

“Who knows, but it would probably still be a better band name than ‘Staffell & Sons’,” Roger mocked, not noticing Brian’s shift in focus. Brian’s eyes still traced over your sleepy smile when everything seemed to click into place.

“Smile,” he spoke gently, lifting his head up to face his band mates. “We should call the band Smile.” He looked back down at your infectious smirk, recalling that it had been one of the reasons that he took an interest in you in the first place. After another moment of adoration, Brian fixed his eye line back to his bandmates in an attempt to gauge their response.

“That’s not bad actually,” Tim agreed and Roger nodded along. “What made you think of that?”

“Well, uh, Roger said he was a dental student,” Brian spoke, a light sheen of panic spread across his face. He didn’t want them to know that the band name would be dedicated to his best friend. Brian liked having his own little secret.

“Alright then, Smile it is.”

--------------------

It was nearly midnight when the boys had decided to depart, making their way back to their respective apartment or dorm room. Brian had woken you up right before they left, promising to walk you back to your dorm after he locked the building up. You stood outside, clutching your jacket tighter as the cold autumn air brushed through your hair. Roger and Tim stood beside you, waiting for Brian to finally lock the last door.

“All done,” he shoved the keys back into his pockets and hopped towards you three. “I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And with that you all said your goodbyes and headed in different directions. You and Brian began your long trek across campus in the cool, frigid air.

“So you finally got the band all put together,” you bumped into Brian as you strolled, bringing a smile to his face.

“Yes, finally. If I had to sit through one more mediocre drum solo, I might have dropped out of school entirely,” Brian spoke, looking down at you as you giggled.

“Got a name in mind, Mr. Band Man?”

“We decided on one while you were asleep. Speaking of which, how is it that you manage to fall asleep practically anywhere? First, during a riveting astronomy lecture and now an incredibly important band meeting. Do you need to see a sleep specialist? I know a guy,” Brian rambled on making you forget how cold it was as you erupted in laughter.

“Some would call it a talent,” you offered as you tried to suppress the giggles that fled from your lips. “What name did you end up choosing?” you asked after you calmed down a little, a grin still masking your face. Brian looked down at you, knowing that he and his bandmates had made the right choice.

“Smile.”

“I quite like that.”

“Good, because we’re not changing it,” Brian chuckled, turning to look at the sidewalk in front of him. “Now, tell me about the situation between you and Tim,” Brian blurted out, earning a groan from you.

“Oh god.”

February 27, 1969

Throughout the months following that first initial band meeting, the boys grew closer and closer. You found yourself immersed in music as you spent copious amounts of time around them. They had their first gig only a week or two after Roger joined the band and it went off without a hitch, besides when you had to give Brian a pep talk before he went on stage. They had written a few songs and even got a record deal from Mercury Records at the beginning of the year. To say you were proud was an understatement. You went to every gig and nearly every practice, showing support for your best friends and favorite band.

You and Tim continued to fool around in spite of Brian’s threat to quote ‘beat the shit out of Staffell if he hurts you’. And even though you were thoroughly satisfied by Tim’s touch, there was always a part of you that was drawn to Roger. You don’t know what it was but his soft lips and bright blue eyes always managed to make you weak in the knees. Unfortunately, you weren’t the only girl that seemed to share this sentiment. Even your roommate Sally begged you to introduce her to the handsome drummer. Your heart panged with unwanted jealousy every time you saw him take a new girl to his van after the show. But you just brushed it off and moved on, ignoring the ache that you felt in your chest.

Everything with the band came together beautifully, bringing you to where you were now. Standing in a parking outside the Royal Albert Hall with a cigarette hanging from your lips and two coats covering your body.

“Hey Rog, can you light me up? I can’t feel my fucking fingers,” you shivered out as he nodded and reached over to light your cigarette. Your breath hitched for a second as his knuckle brushed against your lip. “Thanks mate,” you mumbled as you puffed on the cig.

“Look at our little American, calling people ‘mate’,” Roger teased, earning an unamused glare from you.

“You try living in a different country for two years and not pick up on some of the local slang,” you countered as a shiver raked through your body.

“Here,” Roger handed you a flask filled with whisky. “It’ll help warm you up.”

“Not to sound like your mom or anything, but you really shouldn’t be drinking before you perform,” you took the cigarette from your lips only to replace it with the warm flow of whisky.

“Yeah, well it helps to calm my nerves before I go on stage. Not all of us have our best friend to calm us down like Brian does,” he mumbled, taking the flask back from you and taking a swig for himself. Just before you were able to speak again, you were interrupted by Brian and Tim. Behind Tim stood a man that appeared to be around your age with long, dark hair and an unusually large set of teeth. You flashed a bright smile at the three men before you, your eyes lingering on the stranger behind your two friends.

“Hello love,” Tim came over and wrapped an arm around you as you took another drag from your cigarette. Tim nodded at Roger and leaned over to whisper something in your ear. His hot breath against your neck made you squirm and giggle. Tim took the cigarette from your hand to take a drag before placing it back between your lips. Roger glanced at you snuggled up against Tim before taking another quick drink from the flask in his hands.

“The place is packed,” Brian spoke, both excitement and nervousness laced within his tone. “This might be our biggest gig yet.”

“Oh my god, that’s wonderful!” you exclaimed, meeting the gaze of your best friend. “You guys are going to do so well, I just know it.” You looked back towards Roger who seemed to be lost in thought until he noticed your eyes on him. He gave you a tight lipped smile and wiggled his eyebrows before you looked back up at Tim.

“Oh, by the way this is Freddie Bulsara. He goes to Ealing with me. He’s a friend and a big fan of our music. You don’t mind if he stands backstage with you while we’re on, do you?” Tim said as he gestured to the black haired man beside him.

“Oh not at all! The more the merrier!” you spoke leaning to get a better look at Freddie as he gave you a wide smile.

“Great! We’re on in four minutes, so we should probably head back inside,” Tim peered at his watch before guiding you and the others through the door. You were too busy putting out your cigarette to notice Roger taking another long sip from the flask while he looked at the way Tim held your hand.

Once inside you gave Brian a pat on the back as you reassured him of your confidence in his musical abilities. Just before the band was announced to go on stage Tim leaned down so his face was level with yours.

“Give me a kiss so I do well,” he pointed to his mouth and you giggled. You pressed your lips firmly against his, savoring the feeling that came with it. You pulled away and he grabbed his bass as the announcer introduced the band. Brian went on stage first with his guitar strung around his torso, followed quickly by Tim. Freddie stepped up beside you, trying to get a better view of the stage. As Roger went to step from behind the curtain, you remembered what he told you earlier about his nerves in the parking lot. You grabbed his shirt, pulling him backwards, and planted a soft kiss to his cheek before releasing his shirt from your grasp. He looked at you with wide eyes, red cheeks, and a slacked jaw as he slowly walked backwards to get to the stage. His eyes never left yours, even as he approached the curtain that blocked him from the audience’s view.

“For good luck!” you shouted as he walked on stage with a smile plastered across his face.

Taglist: @retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede

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topfygad · 4 years

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A Stay at The Eccleston Square Hotel in Belgravia

If you have a penchant for personalised, boutique hotels, you might like to check out the Eccleston Square Hotel. This family-run hotel located in SW1 opened in 2011 when Olivia Byrne decided to create one of the most ‘technologically advanced hotels’ in London. At 23, the Paris-born entrepreneur was dubbed one of the youngest hoteliers of the time.

Since then, the 4.5-star hotel has picked up quite a few accolades. Conde Nast Traveler listed it in the top 15 best boutique hotels in London and it picked up their Reader’s Choice Award in 2016. You’ll also find many articles applauding the hotel’s various hi-tech features and massage beds that come with every room.

With no plans to travel far over the Easter weekend, BC and I took up the opportunity to enjoy a one-night stay here and make the most of some ‘London time’ following our recent move. Here’s how it went.

Eccleston Square Hotel: The Location

The location of Eccleston Square Hotel is definitely one of its strengths. Eccleston Square is located in the SW1V area of London. And overlooking a leafy garden, it feels surprisingly quiet, but is actually, very accessible. Victoria coach, railway and tube stations are just a five-minute walk away. And you have Pimlico, Belgravia and the attractions of Westminster right on your doorstep. It’s a great location for anyone visiting the theatres in Victoria too.

The building itself is a Grade II listed Georgian townhouse, which is immediately appealing for travellers who appreciate a bit of character, although, as you’ll read below, this is a super modern hotel inside.

Interestingly, you’ll find the house that Winston Churchill lived in, just a few doors down and I’m told that Queen Victoria’s granddaughter once lived in the building that is now the hotel.

How’s that for a bit of history?

The Arrival

It was very quiet when we first arrived, and we waited a few minutes at reception for someone to greet us. Once they did, the front-of-house staff were very warm and friendly, and check-in was quick and seamless. They’ve taken a very contemporary approach at the Eccleston Square Hotel, with lots of monochrome, marble and sparkling chandeliers.

Once we’d checked in, one of the hotel staff took us up to our room on the first floor and gave us a thorough explanation of the technology and services in the room, which was a nice touch.

The hotel entrance hall

The entrance to our guest room at the Eccleston Square Hotel

The guestroom interiors & amenities

The guestroom interiors, much like the hotel reception, are contemporary and quite business-like with dark wooden wardrobes and furniture, grey carpets and black faux-fur cushions and throws.

There are two fluffy towelling robes and slippers in the wardrobe and guests who have booked directly through the hotel can enjoy a complimentary mini-bar (choice of Evian water, two types of beer and soft drinks). There’s also a Nespresso coffee machine and while there’s no kettle, they do offer a free 24-hour tea service – something I think every hotel should adopt!

My favourite part, style-wise, was the bathroom – a sleek, white marble space where you’ll find a huge two-person shower cubicle fitted with four (yes FOUR) showers. Two rainforest showers were overhead, and an excellent power shower and hand-held shower were fitted to the wall. Eccleston Square Hotel provides various L’Occitane bathroom miniatures (including a lovely Lavender sleep spray) and the whole room was bright and airy, thanks to the natural light that flooded through the frosted floor-to-ceiling windows.

Hi-tech features

The technology at Eccleston Square Hotel is evident as soon as you walk through the traditional front door that’s fitted with automatic sensors. There’s an iPad on the front desk telling you the weather forecast in London and even the lifts are fitted with six miniature TV screens, all tuned into different channels.

Once inside the guest room, all the light fixtures, except for the bedside lamps, are controlled using electronic switches and the heating, curtains and ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign at your door (no need to hang a sign up) are also electronically controlled. There is also, of course, free wifi.

On the bedside table, you’ll find an iPad that’s been installed with a variety of features that are particularly useful for first-time visitors to London. There’s a catalogue of restaurants to try in the area, a list of local attractions (you’ll also find tips for things to do on the Eccleston Square Hotel blog) and a delivery-app called Night Room Service, offering food delivery from around 50 London restaurants, which is great if you fancy eating in. There’s the option for in-room dining from the hotel’s in-house chefs and the local restaurant Lobster & More will also deliver a wide range of dishes to the hotel. For a fee, the in-room iPad also offers the option of late check-out (which we took advantage of) – very handy indeed.

One of the most noteworthy features for foreign travellers is the smartphone which every guest has in their room. You can take it out with you, use the social media and make use of the unlimited data – you can even make international calls to selected countries. It wasn’t something I needed but if you’re travelling from overseas, this is a great added extra.

The massage bed

The feature I’d been looking forward to the most was the Hästens massage bed. After an afternoon walk in the area, I enjoyed a bit of down time ahead of us going out for dinner (I’m pregnant, I have an excuse) so it was the perfect time to try it out.

If you haven’t heard of them, Hästens beds are pretty highly sought-after. Hand-made in Sweden, they cost upwards of £12,000 each and are crafted using sustainable materials such as pure flax and hypoallergenic horsehair, which are said to channel away moisture and excess heat and lead to a better night’s sleep. (I can back that up, I slept very well).

When it comes to the massage function, I have to admit, the massage beds were quite loud and provided a strong vibration rather than a kneading motion (which is what I was expecting) to your body or feet area. That said, I liked the way you could raise the head and feet to your preferred position – a great way to watch the 46-inch TV in comfort.

Speaking of TVs, there were two screens in our hotel room – one at the end of your bed, and a small one fitted inside the bathroom which syncs to whatever you’re watching in the main bedroom.

I’m not sure if it’s the case in every guestroom, but our bathroom TV was located opposite the toilet and you could just about see it from the shower. It’s great if you want to listen to a music channel, but personally, I’d have loved to see a bathtub in there, so you could enjoy a long soak with your favourite programme in front of you.

I think you’ll agree, it’s a pretty cool feature nonetheless. And we got a surprise when we discovered that the bathroom door can switch between frosted and transparent, again, at the touch of a button. The last time I saw this was at a hotel in Kuala Lumpur – another feature that technology geeks will no doubt love.

3D movies

The final hi-tech feature you’ll want to check out is the option to watch 3D movies which are all complimentary with your stay. In keeping with their convenient ordering system, guests can pick from a selection of 3D Blu-ray movie options on the iPad and within minutes, a member of staff will arrive at your door with the DVD and Panasonic 3D glasses.

PJs on and massage bed set at the perfect incline, we were ready for our 3D experience, but sadly, neither of the movies could be supported as it turned out, the TV needed an upgrade. It wasn’t something the staff could fix at the time and they were incredibly apologetic; however, after all the hype, we were gutted we couldn’t experience it!

Downstairs in the hotel, next to the bar, they do have a ‘media room’ where guests have the option to watch movies on the 103-inch LED TV. We were already in our PJs at this point so didn’t fancy coming back downstairs, however it’s a great option for watching sport if you know it’s going to be available. You can also sync your laptop to the screen, so it’s well set up for events and private meetings.

Food and Drink at Eccleston Square Hotel

Once you check out the in-room iPad at the Eccleston Square Hotel, as mentioned, you’ll see that you can order a number of food options to your room, or in the dining area downstairs.

We went out for dinner in Victoria, however, we did order from the hotel breakfast menu the next morning. The Eggs Benedict and Eggs Royale were both delicious even though my request for the sauce to be served ‘on the side’ wasn’t noted. The fresh fruit with yoghurt was also fantastic with thick gooey yoghurt, fresh mint and a drizzle of honey. It all arrived fairly promptly and was a great way to end a lovely London stay.

I’ll also be writing a separate post about the afternoon tea at Eccleston Square Hotel, very soon.

Verdict

Although we felt this hotel didn’t quite hit the mark in some areas, the service was extremely warm and welcoming, the room was super clean and cosy, and we felt it had lots of brilliant features that made for a comfortable stay. If you’re looking for something super luxurious, do check out their new townhouses which recently opened. However, I would recommend the Eccleston Square Hotel for couples enjoying a weekend away in London and anyone looking for a personalised stay with excellent access to central London and all its attractions.

It’s not often you can enjoy a free mini-bar, 24-hour tea service and an array of services which you can conveniently order from a screen. With rooms starting from just £125, this boutique hotel gets a thumbs up for convenience, value-for-money and style.

For more information, visit the Eccleston Square Hotel website and follow them on Instagram, twitter and Facebook.

Have you been to Eccleston Square Hotel? Feel free to leave a comment and share your travel tips and thoughts.

Eccleston Square Hotel, 37 Eccleston Square, London SW1V 1PB, 020 8068 1011

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Our stay at Eccleston Square Hotel was complimentary. All views here are my own.

source http://cheaprtravels.com/a-stay-at-the-eccleston-square-hotel-in-belgravia-2/

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blakemysteries · 5 years

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Nadine Garner on fame, #MeToo, Mr Black and being friends with a young Kylie Minogue

Siobhan Duck, Sunday Herald Sun June 1, 2019 10:53pm

Nadine Garner has seen and heard plenty during her three-plus decades in showbiz.

When she was 14, co-star Kylie Minogue introduced her to the music of Prince, the Violent Femmes and Donna Summer on the set of their TV series The Henderson Kids and turned her on to fashion with regular excursions to Melbourne’s Camberwell Sunday Market.

For her second movie, Disney’s Bushfire Moon, she worked alongside veteran actor Charles “Bud” Tingwell; she’d later star in a nationwide production of Cabaret for a year as it travelled Australia.

But there are still plenty of tricks to be learned — or even relearned.

Not long ago, Garner, 48, found herself attending workshops on how to conduct love scenes on-screen. In the turbulent and confusing wake of #MeToo, the actors’ union set them up as part of a wider response to the flood of harassment allegations in the entertainment industry.

“An extremely qualified woman was brought out to run courses,” says Garner.

“She told us, ‘Hey, these intimacy scenes, they are just like fight scenes. We need to co-ordinate them and choreograph them — and set down rationally how we are going to execute them.’”

The point, she says, was “to demystify them — and create an open dialogue around them, rather than them being something difficult or shameful”.

The workshops hit close to home for Garner. The ink was barely dry on her contract at the Seven Network for a new series of her hit TV show last year when allegations of sexual harassment were made against her co-star Craig McLachlan. (He is still fighting them in court). Garner with co-star Craig McLachlan in The Doctor Blake Mysteries. Nadine Garner says #MeToo is the beginning of a new way for co-workers to behave across all industries.

Garner emphasises her remarks about #MeToo and the entertainment industry are not in direct reference to McLachlan. But his departure — and Seven’s decision to walk away from the series — was a blow for the single mother of two.

“It was the most I was ever going to be earning,” she says. “I thought, ‘Oh my god … everything is going to turn around!’ But nothing is guaranteed.

“I think we are at the very beginning of a new way of behaving across all industries. And ours needed to be looked at — no doubt. It still does; nothing is fixed here. We still have a systemic vulnerability in our industry for people to be taken advantage of.”

Despite her disappointment over the show’s demise, Garner is supportive of the changes that are starting to take place: “If you’ve got a menace in the workplace (it needs to be dealt with). And I know many actors who have had to work with menaces, and had to continue to walk into work doing nudity or love scenes with an actor who was harassing them — stalking them outside of the workplace, talking about how turned on they are when they do scenes … It’s very complex for actors, because we are putting ourselves in really vulnerable positions that other people aren’t.” Garner says she has never courted fame.

Garner has a clear disinterest in having people believe her life is glamorous just because she is on film and TV screens, and she has steadfastly refused to play the fame game all along.

“I think there is a pressure on us to present as though we are having the lifestyle of our American cohorts,” she says.

“And we are really not. I can assure you my life is as complex and stressful as everyone else’s. In fact, I don’t have the financial security of most people; I have maybe bursts of income and then nothing. There’s a misconception that anyone in the public eye is having this easy life. That is not my experience — and it’s certainly not the experience of all my peers in film and TV and theatre.”

Despite the financial pressure and difficulties juggling the needs of her sons Edan, 13, and Jem, 10, Garner doesn’t regret her decision to be an actor — even if she never felt it was her calling.

She landed the role of fresh-faced Tamara Henderson on The Henderson Kids — her first major role — in 1985 after she attended an open-casting call. The show would end up making her a household name. 1985: Garner (left) with co-star Kylie Minogue on the set of The Henderson Kids.

And it wasn’t just Garner who got her big break on The Henderson Kids. The show also featured Kylie Minogue, Ben Mendelsohn and Jane Hall.

“There were some very astute casting decisions made,” reflects Garner. “It was magic, really. You can’t orchestrate that. Kylie seemed cool to me because she was three years older — that’s a lot when you are a kid. She was very grown up, very worldly at that age already.”

She has been reunited with another former co-star — Stephen Curry — on the set of her latest series, the Network 10 comedy Mr Black.

“I had a massive crush on Nadine when she was on The Henderson Kids,” Curry tells Stellar.

“I used to fantasise about being on the show with her. We first worked together on The Secret Life Of Us. She played a paraplegic and I was her nurse. We had to kiss and, while I kept it professional on the exterior, my inner 10-year-old was doing backflips.”

Series creator Adam Zwar says Garner — who plays Rowena, a woman with a new lease on life after her divorce from Curry’s embittered character — was an obvious choice for the role. Garner with Stephen Curry (left) and Nick Russell in Mr Black. The cover of the latest issue of Stellar, in today’s Sunday Herald Sun.

Like her TV counterpart, Garner is finding her feet after splitting with the father of her boys. “For those who don’t know her, Nadine is a deep thinker,” says Zwar. “She’s an individual. She is not part of any social or intellectual clique. She makes her own mind up about things.”

Zwar says a comedian who filmed a guest role on the show serenaded Garner with The Henderson Kids theme song — and she didn’t bat an eye.

“I guess she’s been part of our lives for so long, she’s used to extreme and emotional reactions from people.”

Garner has her own take on it. “I don’t think the fame that I had was ever really out of control,” she says.

“I could still function and have a life. I wasn’t a celebrity. Really, really big stars like Macaulay Culkin — that kind of surreal, catapulting-you-into-another-stratosphere kind of fame, where the ego goes into crisis and you’re no longer sure where the ground is — I never had that.

“I still had all the same issues as any person, with just a smattering of recognition here and there. I had a couple of pretty nasty experiences in public places where people tried to punch me up; kids who thought it was funny.

“It wasn’t like, ‘Wow, this is so glamorous’. It was a bit scary. So I found the whole fame thing kind of confronting; I have never courted fame.

“If there’s a red carpet and they try to get me on it, I run around the back!”

Mr Black airs 8.40pm Tuesdays on Network 10

Originally published as The unglamorous life of Nadine Garner

#tdbm #nadine garner #articles

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thedeaditeslayer · 5 years

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Sam Raimi on his favourite horror movies.

This interview from Den of Geek showcases a look at the horror movies that influenced Sam Raimi. The interview is below.

Sam Raimi might not have directed a movie since 2013’s Oz: The Great And Powerful, but he remains one of the industry’s most beloved and respected genre filmmakers. As the creator of the Evil Dead series and the man who rescued Spider-Man from development hell and introduced him to the big screen, Raimi has more than earned his geek stripes. And while he hasn’t stepped behind the camera for a while, he has been supporting other horror filmmakers as a producer, on films such as Fede Alvarez’s Don’t Breathe and, most recently, Alexandre Aja’s gator thriller, Crawl.

A snappy (pardon the pun) creature feature that clocks in at under 90 minutes, Crawl is a lean and tense example of effective genre filmmaking. And that’s just one of the reasons why Raimi was tempted on board to produce the project. “I’ve never been a brainiac or a guy who works with very deep horror themes,” he admits when Den Of Geek catches up with him to talk about Crawl and horror movies in general. “It’s really a primal experience, and for me the simpler the better, the more direct the more effective, the shorter the better.”

“I think what Alex understands so well – and certainly demonstrated on Crawl – is that the audience wants a rollercoaster ride that kicks them in the butt, flips them on their head and then dumps them out before they’re ready. I don’t think two-hour stories – or longer nowadays – suits the subject matter. A campfire ghost story is the right length for me. If you could make horror movies that were eight minutes long, that would be perfect. Unfortunately, movies don't let you do that – no one wants to go into a theatre and be kicked out before they’ve even finished their popcorn.”

Funny, affable and an all-around good egg, Raimi is happy to chat at length about the genre in which he made his name. Having been a flag-waving supporter of horror since his breakout movie, 1981’s The Evil Dead, Raimi is clearly a man who knows a thing or two about what makes a decent chiller. He might not have directed Crawl, but it’s clear to see how it fits with his sensibilities as a genre lover. He’s also, as it turns out, a big fan of a monster movie.

The premise of Crawl is, as Raimi says, simple and direct. Uni student and aspiring swimmer Haley (Kaya Scodelario) and her dad (Barry Pepper) are trapped inside their Florida family home during a hurricane, faced with rising flood waters and a congregation of invading alligators. “What I liked about the movie was that it’s a plausible scenario: alligators seek high ground in the floods and more and more in the US, the southern area of our country is being flooded,” Raimi explains. “It’s like instant horror.

“I love the fact that it doesn't take a science fiction premise to bring this to life,” he adds. “I don't need a giant monster – I'll take my radiation at the beach and I’m happy to cook a hot dog with it, but I don’t want my monsters to be radioactive. I love the fact that these monsters just live in Florida and the circumstance of this screenplay brings them into a person’s home.” Or, as Raimi’s co-producer Craig Flores puts it (while still chuckling to himself at Raimi’s take on mutated monsters): “The invasion of this natural element into an unnatural environment like our homes, where we have TVs and computers and couches, is a terrifying thought. It's a very disturbing image.”

Not only does Raimi love a good old movie monster, but he’s also a fan of the less-is-more philosophy, too – the “great craftsmanship” of Spielberg’s Jaws being a prime example (although, Raimi says, he counts that as “more of a brilliant adventure film with very effective elements of horror” than a horror film per se).

“It's true, the audience can craft more frightening things than we can show them, but it’s also the filmmaker’s responsibility to plant the fertile seeds in the minds of the audience so they can grow their own monster,” Raimi explains. “On Crawl, I think Alex was aware of not showing the creatures too much. You have to let the audience use their imagination and just give them the right amount to build their nightmare.”

Producing films is one thing, but there’s one big question on our lips: will we see Raimi returning to the director’s chair in the near future? “I’m trying to find a good script,” he says. “I don't want to give the audience something they expect. You know, it’s hard to find a great original script and it’s even harder to recognise it as that because it is so different. So that’s the nutty search I'm on right now.”

In the meantime, given all this talk of horror, monsters and “primal experiences”, we decided to ask Raimi about his favourite genre movies – and here’s what he had to say…

The first horror movie I saw

Night Of The Living Dead (1968)

Raimi says that he was just a boy when he first encountered George A Romero’s seminal zombie movie, and it left a huge mark on the future filmmaker. “I was about nine years old, and my sister snuck me in because I wasn't old enough,” he recalls. “In Michigan [Raimi’s home state], we have tremendous winters and so she had this long coat, and I was tiny enough that I could do this little shuffle walk underneath it and believe it or not sneak into the theatre.

“God I wish I had stayed in that coat,” he laughs. “I really had never been so terrified in my life. I was screaming and shrieking, begging my sister to take me home, and she was trying to shut me up. I'd never experienced horror like that before. It felt so real, like a docu-horror. I had never seen a black-and-white movie in a movie theatre before; it looked like a documentary. There was nothing Hollywood about it – it was just unrelenting and complete madness and very upsetting for me. It left a tremendous impression on me as a filmmaker and I think that’s why The Evil Dead was so influenced by Night Of The Living Dead, because that’s really what a horror film was for me.”

My favourite Hitchcock horror

Psycho (1960)

When Flores and Raimi showed early cuts of Crawl to two of their peers, they both independently referenced the master of suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock, saying that it felt like “The Birds with alligators”. But The Birds isn’t Raimi’s favourite Hitch flick… “I love Psycho,” he says. “Bernard Herrmann's music is so thrilling, so rich. I love that Hitchcock recognised the greatness of making the audience identify with the hero and then ending her life and introducing the real horror of the story, completely blowing our minds.

“It’s shocking even to this day that he had the audacity to do that. When that happens, you realise you're in the hands of a filmmaker who's capable of doing anything. The whole grasp of the experience is quite terrifying: anything can happen, nothing is sacred, the hero can and does die. So nothing is off-limits. But his choice of shots, his composition, and the brilliant performances that he gets from all the actors are stunning.”

My most influential horror movie

Night Of The Demon (1957)

While Night Of The Living Dead ignited Raimi’s love of the genre, there was one film that cemented it – Jacques Tourneur’s occult classic, Night Of The Demon. “That was such a great film,” says Raimi. “I’m very much influenced by that film even today. My brother Ivan [a scriptwriter] and I were affected by it so much that its influence can be seen directly in a movie we made called Drag Me To Hell, which really is based on Jacques Tourneur’s film. The whole idea of a curse that can be handed down to another, of an unstoppable thing from hell that's coming to get you, is really terrifying. That was really the basis for our movie.”

The modern horror that impressed me

Switchblade Romance (2003)

One of the reasons that Raimi wanted to produce Crawl was the opportunity to work with Alexandre Aja, a director who’d been on Raimi’s radar since his audacious breakout, Haute Tension – better known as Switchblade Romance in the UK. “Around 2004, I asked Alex to direct a movie I was producing called The Messengers, starring Kristen Stewart, but he was busy on The Hills Have Eyes at the time so he couldn’t,” Raimi reveals (the gig eventually went to The Eye’s the Pang brothers).

“I love Haute Tension,” he continues. “I think it was as simple as the way I felt in the theatre – terrified and on the edge of my seat. I didn't know what was going to come next – my expectations kept being thwarted and I really felt that he as a filmmaker knew what I was going through. He was like a puppeteer, pulling one string and then another, and then knowing that I would react one way and then and waiting for me down that alley, where he’d planned yet another surprise. I really felt he had the mind of a maze-maker. He seemed to have a complex awareness of the audience and what their thought process must be, and understanding the timing of things. It’s really a kind of frightening ability if you think about it: how could he know what I would be thinking; how would he be prepared for my reaction? And yet he was. I felt like I was in the hands of a master.”

The last horror I saw and loved

Get Out (2017)

Jordan Peele’s much-lauded social horror Get Out was the last film to really get under Raimi’s skin. “I think that was the last one that really knocked me for a loop,” he says. “It’s just brilliant and original. I love the social commentary, I love the brilliant performance from the lead actress, Allison Williams – she was great. Great directing and funny, too – I just thought that was beautifully done.”

But, as a filmmaker with experience on both indie horrors and big-budget studio pics, Raimi says that Get Out’s awards-season success, while deserved, could come at a price for the genre. “That respectability – it's something gained and something lost, honestly,” he reckons. “I love that makers of the genre are finally being recognised as artists, and yet personally I like working as a filmmaker in disrespected genres - they are better places to hide out and practice my craft. Somehow it's healthier making horror movies there in the darkness away from the sunlight, where things can fester and mould, decay…”

#Sam Raimi

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min-minn · 5 years

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Symphony - Chapter One

A03

Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, tenor prodigy and top student at the Salchow Institute of Music, is looking for an accompanist.

And word around campus is that Yakov Feltsman, Head of Music and conductor of the prestigious Institute Band, is looking for new members.

Yuuri Katsuki is just looking to survive his next Piano recital

The Yuri on CONCERT Music School AU that we all deserve

Pairings: Viktor Nikiforov/ Yuuri Katsuki

Rating: Teen And Up

Content Warning: Anxiety

A/N: So I was working on a different multi-chapter YOI fic, but of course, I got struck with inspiration halfway through and scrapped it entirely. So, if you're here from that fic, I'm sorry! I'm trash! Maybe I'll finish it one day but after spending a whole week planning and researching for this fic it'll be a long time before I do *bows* please forgive me.

AND I'M REALLY EXCITED FOR THIS. I was basically raised in a music school as my mum is a classical singer, so I honestly can't believe its taken me THIS BLOODY LONG to write this kind of AU. I have like 50 pages of notes, ideas, plot plans, and MUSIC. So much music. I'm really excited to get stuck into this fic, so please don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Comments really help, and it makes me feel like I can collaborate creatively which is my Vibe™ ~

Also, I'm not from the states, so writing about NYC is based purely on movies and TV and Wikipedia searches. If anyone has any corrections about the setting please let me know! And likewise, if my own music world jargon isn't explained properly, let me know so I can edit/ offer better explanations.

Lots of awkward love,

- Min

Some translations/ explanations:

“La Bohéme” – literally “Bohemian” or “The Bohemians.” It’s a really cute opera about artists and love and all that good stuff, and has a really famous tenor aria that Viktor would sing as Rodolfo.

“Прекрасный” – “prekrasnyy,” - beautiful/ lovely

“SIM” – just stands for Salchow Institute of Music. The school is sometimes referred to as just “The Institute” as well. I’ve loosely based the school off “The Julliard School” which is one of the most prestigious Music schools in the world, situated in NYC as well.

Today was Yuuri Katsuki's first meeting with his supervisor, and he was late.

He had his satchel in his hands as he hurried off the bus towards the Salchow Institute of Music, stuffed with a haphazard pile of notes and charts. It was the kind of old satchel where the edges were so worn you could see inside it, and the buckle didn’t quite work properly most of the time. Yuuri had just grown used to carrying it in both arms instead of slung over his shoulder, only having to stuff the notes back in occasionally when they were jostled loose. This was proving to be quite the challenge today, as Yuuri broke into a full-blown sprint across the quad towards the studios, a few students glancing after him in confusion.

Phichit had stolen his charger in the night. That’s where all the trouble had started.

It was technically Yuuri’s first day of the semester, though other undergrad students had already started in February. Since he was only working on his thesis and composition, he didn’t have any strict classes or lectures. This meant his first day fell whenever his new supervisor decided it was time for them to meet, and Yuuri had been preparing for it over the entirety of the holidays. Right up until two in the morning the night before, when Yuuri had set his alarm for six, plugged his phone in next to his bed, and settled in for the few hours of sleep he’d allowed himself.

Right up until Phichit had stolen his charger.

And his phone hardly had any battery to begin with.

And his alarm didn’t go off.

“I’ll kill him!” Yuuri gasped as he dashed into the building, making his way towards a set of stairs and bounding up them two at a time. Phichit had been out at a bar all night, and must have come home early that morning, drunkenly stealing Yuuri’s charger because, of course, Phichit didn’t have one of his own. Yuuri loved his roommate dearly, but right at that moment all he could think of was strangling his stupid neck. Or “misplacing” all of his reeds right before his next recital. That would work…

Yuuri shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to scheme about ruining his best friend’s life. He would have plenty of time for that after the meeting.

Yuuri’s first meeting with his new supervisor was – in Yuuri’s mind – one of the most important days on his calendar. This was primarily due to the fact that his supervisor was none other than Lila Baranovskaya – ex-mezzo-soprano diva and Queen of the industry. She essentially owned New York, as far as the music world was concerned, and her word was law. Despite only being Head of Voice at the Institute, answerable to Yakov Feltsman, Dean of the school and formidable in his own right, everyone knew it was her that really held all the power at the Institute.

And Yuuri was late to their first meeting.

Yuuri wondered, not for the first time, why she had agreed to be his supervisor. Her usual focus was on singing, and she’d trained many of the famous classical, jazz, and music theatre singers that now graced auditoriums, studios, and bars across the city. Across the world, even. One of her students had just gone on to win a Tony Award at last year’s ceremony.

Not to mention the fact that Yuuri’s usual supervisor, Celestino Cialdini, one of NYC’s top pianists, was the perfect supervisor. He was kind, allowed Yuuri to work at his own pace, but still challenged him enough that he always felt he was learning. So, it had come as a genuine shock when Celestino had met with him after last year’s finals, and suggested he try a new supervisor.

Yuuri had, of course, assumed it was all his fault. Celestino was an amazing pianist, and Yuuri was clearly not up to standard. Celestino probably had countless postgrad students waiting in the wings with oodles of talent and self-confidence. It was only right that he make time for them instead, and drop the excess baggage.

But then Celestino mentioned that he’d had a meeting with Lilia.

Yuuri finally reached the top of the third floor, glancing quickly down the hall to check the studio numbers and orient himself, running on the spot to keep up his momentum and try and calm the whirlwind in his brain.

Lilia had emailed him over the Christmas break, asking a few questions about his thesis, some basic queries about his skill level and repertoire. Yuuri had felt like he was in a dream – it was almost too surreal. Speaking to her directly was surely forbidden in some way. And her clinical approach had made him feel like he was some kind of specimen, pinned to a wall with Lilia as scientist, poking and prodding and dissecting his talent.

Although she was Head of Voice, her experience and vast knowledge of musical theory made her top advisor to most students at SIM. She would be more than able to supervise his piano thesis, and was a far superior choice than even Celestino when it came to composition.

And despite being absolutely sure Lilia would never agree to tutor him, Yuuri eventually found himself face to face with a disarming email, just a few weeks before the beginning of the semester. It was short, but brutally direct;

“I will be your supervisor, if you’re ready to sell your soul.”

Yuuri blanched at the memory as he came closer and closer to the studio where they would be meeting.

Sell his soul?

Yuuri reached for the handle of the door to the studio, clasping it in a white-knuckle grip. Absently, he thought that really wasn’t too high a price at all.

With the words still spinning in his mind, Yuuri hardly noticed the handle turn itself under his fingers, and suddenly the door was wrenched out of his hands and blown wide open.

He fell forward slightly at the force, scrambling to keep his satchel and notes secure in his grip. When he straightened, his glasses were skewed, and he took a moment to readjust them so he could see clearly…

A tall man stood in the doorway, framed by the light streaming in from the windows of the studio behind him. He had a slightly surprised look on his features, silver hair drifting across his eyes as it shook loose.

Yuuri blinked.

Viktor Nikiforov?

It took a while for Yuuri’s frazzled mind to catch up on what was happening. He was face to face with the Viktor Nikiforov – tenor prodigy and top student at the Institute. Famous son of the Russian Nikiforov power couple. Infamous flirt and heartthrob of the entire school, if not the entire city.

And he was still face to face with the Viktor Nikiforov.

And Viktor was speaking.

His lips were moving.

Was Viktor speaking to him?

“—must be Lilia’s new pet? Don’t let her eat you alive,” and he was smiling. Viktor’s smile was almost too big – it seemed to spread across his whole face, lighting up his eyes and creasing his cheeks into dimples.

Yuuri swallowed.

“Ah… um…. Excuse me?” his voice was breathless, and he could feel it quavering in his throat. His heart was still trying desperately to steady itself after he had sprinted all the way here, but something else seemed to set his nerves on fire and flood his chest with warmth. It felt like his heart was trying to tear itself out of his ribcage.

“Oh, of course,” Viktor stood aside so that Yuuri could pass through, oblivious to the fact that Yuuri had actually been asking Viktor a question. Yuuri didn’t correct him. He was too caught up on the sound of Viktor’s voice.

It was pure music, of course. Every word, every inflection, carefully placed like fingers on piano keys. Yuuri distantly thought he could listen to it for hours.

“Good luck! And I’ll consider your advice, Lilia!” Viktor called back as he moved to leave the studio, flashing Yuuri another grin that made that warmth in Yuuri’s chest spark into some kind of inferno. It was hot in here. Too hot. Was it really winter? Yuuri felt like he had far too many layers on, and why were his cheeks so warm…

And then Viktor was gone, the door closing gently behind him.

“I hope this is both the first and last time you keep me waiting, Mr. Katsuki,” another voice called from across the room. Yuuri yelped and spun around, reaching a hand up to his mouth to quiet his embarrassing noises.

It would be a miracle if he could survive the next hour without going into cardiac arrest.

Lilia Baranovskaya was seated at a grand piano in the corner of the room, dressed casually but somehow still looking ready to step out onto a stage at any moment. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, accentuating her sharp features and highlighting her steely gaze that pinned Yuuri to the floor where he stood. Her lips were pursed, and she slowly moved to stand, eyes roving up and down Yuuri’s figure, as if calculating Yuuri’s worth right then and there. He was acutely aware that he was standing there in his tacky sweatshirt and training pants. Not to mention his musty old bag and crumpled charts tucked into his arms, hair an absolute bird’s nest and glasses still slightly skewed. And he was panting for air like a fish out of water.

“Well?” Lilia snapped, folding her arms and cocking her hips as she waited for Yuuri’s response.

“Y—Yes! I mean, no, it won’t happen again Mrs. Baranov—”

“That’s Madame Baranovskaya,” she clipped, face hardly betraying any emotion.

“Madame Baranovskaya,” Yuuri whispered, instinctively dropping into a stiff bow, momentarily forgetting that he was in New York City instead of Japan. He thought he heard Lilia huff through her nose – was she laughing? Yuuri must be hearing things.

He snapped out of the bow, eyes still downcast; “F—Forgive me, my alarm …” he trailed off lamely, hoping Lilia understood.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she said simply, working her way around the piano and standing in front of him. Yuuri kept his eyes trained on the floor, watching as her perfectly heeled feet came into view. The shoes looked expensive, and Yuuri distantly wondered at how pretty they looked…

“Discipline,” she said sharply, and Yuuri glanced up at her, eyes wide.

“Discipline…?” he whispered.

“I will not tolerate laziness. So, we will begin with discipline. Show me your scales,” and she stepped to the side, Yuuri swallowing thickly as he glanced toward the piano.

It seemed to warp slightly as his eyes tried to focus, the shimmering black of its top swirling until it felt like the blackness was going to swallow him. He’d let his supervisor down. He was lazy. He was weak.

He had to prove himself.

* * *

“So, how’d the meeting go?” Phichit’s drawling voice crackled through Yuuri’s headphones as he moved to join the line at the Campus Café. Yuuri sighed, still absently drumming his fingers against his satchel, his charts spinning through his mind.

“Terribly,” he groaned in response, clutching his satchel closer. Phichit made a commiserative noise on the other end.

“I’m sure it wasn’t terrible, Yuuri,” Phichit said, his voice slightly groggy. Yuuri frowned, remembering Phichit was probably wickedly hungover by now.

“And you could have chosen a better time to come home piss drunk and steal my charger,” Yuuri said exasperatedly. He was somewhat lucky someone had left their charger in the studio, so his phone was back to full … after the fact.

“Ah, yeah, my bad,” Phichit said with a nervous laugh. “I’ll make it up to by making dinner tonight.”

“Mi Goreng isn’t dinner, by the way,” Yuuri tried to sound serious, but he had a smile on his face. It must have shown through in his voice because Phichit was laughing on the other end.

“It ticks all the boxes though! Hits all the food groups … if you squint,” he laughed again. Yuuri grinned.

He and Phichit were roommates – had been since they’d both placed at SIM as undergrads. There were plenty of other international students – even a few other Japanese students that Yuuri knew by name – but something about Phichit just felt like home. They’d both moved to New York around the same time, had left their families behind to pursue music careers – Yuuri majoring in piano, Phichit in saxophone. And Phichit seemed to grasp all the strange cultural nuances far quicker than Yuuri, allowing them to fall into an easy friendship where Phichit would help Yuuri keep up socially, and Yuuri would ground Phichit when he got too crazy.

By the time they’d finished their degrees, they were best friends, and Yuuri could hardly imagine life in New York without him.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I met Viktor today,” Yuuri said absently, moving up in line and eying the cabinet for lunch options. Everything was ridiculously overpriced, and Yuuri winced when he saw the tag on a sandwich.

He smirked when Phichit gasped on the other end of the line. “Viktor? The Viktor Nikiforov?! Yuuri why didn’t you tell me as soon as I called?!” Yuuri laughed, Phichit practically screeching down the phone.

“It wasn’t a big deal, really. He was in before me with Lilia and we met in the hallway…” Yuuri trailed off, preparing himself as he noticed he was next in line. Yuuri noted distantly that the cashier seemed vaguely familiar – a younger man, quite thin with blonde hair, almost feminine except for his expression which made him look like some kind of street thug.

“Pfft, not a big deal. Yuuri, please, he’s only a fucking god,” and Yuuri could practically hear Phichit rolling his eyes.

“H—Hold on a second, I’m grabbing some lunch,” Yuuri said softly as he stepped up to the counter, taking an earbud out and smiling shyly at the cashier.

“What do you want?” the younger man snapped, staring at Yuuri with eyes like flint from under his bangs. Yuuri swallowed.

“Ch—Chicken sandwich and a long black, please,” he said, voice barely a whisper as his anxiety started creeping across his brain. This kid was looking at him like he was absolute trash.

“Huh? Speak up,” he snapped, leaning forward across the counter and lips working into a deeper frown than he was already wearing. Yuuri panicked. His throat tightened to the point where even breathing was hard let alone speaking. No. Not an option. He could feel everyone around him turning to stare.

“N—Never mind!” he gasped, and turned on his heels, forcing himself not to run, keeping his walk as casual as possible, though every muscle in his body was screaming at him to sprint.

It was only once he found a quiet set of chairs out of the way that he let himself take a deep breath, sitting down exhaustedly and staring at the ceiling.

“—hello? Earth to Yuuuuuuuuuri?!” a voice crackled from the headphones around his neck and he jumped to put them back in.

“Ph-Phichit! Sorry … sorry, I forgot…” he wiped a hand across his face.

“Was it really that terrible? With The Diva?” Phichit asked gently, and Yuuri realised absently that Phichit probably heard the whole exchange at the café.

Yuuri laughed without mirth. “She told me to call her Madame Baranovskaya actually.”

“What?! Man, she really lives up to her street name doesn’t she,” Phichit sighed.

“Yeh. Diva indeed,” Yuuri groaned, leaning forward in his chair. He glanced at his phone, noticing the time.

“Sorry Phichit, I have to go. Minako’s waiting for me,” he said in a small voice, and he heard Phichit tsk on the other end of the line.

“You’d better fill me in when you get home tonight,” his friend warned, entirely serious. “And you’d better tell me about Viktor or I’m burning the Mi Goreng.”

Yuuri laughed. “How do you even burn Mi Goreng. It’s instant noodles.”

“I’ll find a way,” Phichit said, still deadly serious, though Yuuri could hear a smile in his voice.

“I’ll tell you, don’t worry. Bye Phichit,” and Yuuri ended the call, sitting staring at his phone for a while as he smiled softly.

He wondered exactly what he’d done to deserve a friend like Phichit.

* * *

The Salchow Institute of Music was the most prestigious music school in the country, and internationally it had consistently ranked in the top five for music schools. Yuuri had been just one of countless international applicants desperate to get into the school when he’d applied. Most famous musicians hailed from SIM, and many returned as lecturers or accompanists, only adding to its fame.

The Institute sat right in the middle of Manhattan, surrounded by countless studios, theatres, dance halls, and schools. So, it was no surprise that Yuuri’s family friend and esteemed ballet dancer, Minako Okukawa, had her studio nearby.

Minako had known the Katsuki family for years, originally from the same sleepy town of Hasetsu that Katsuki was born in. So, it was Minako who’d stoked Yuuri’s fires as a young pianist, encouraging him to pursue a career in music from as young as three. His parents hadn’t really understood – confused enough by his decision to even train in ballet under Minako in the first place, let alone his subsequent growing passion for piano. But Minako understood. He’d begun as her accompanist for a while, and travelled with her to New York when she accepted a job as Head of Dance at SIM. And it was her that had snuck the SIM application papers onto his desk one night, and her that handed them in the next morning.

Even this deep in his postgrad studies, Yuuri still found time to work with Minako. He was established and skilled enough now to be her primary accompanist at the studio, and he often helped the dancers there rehearse, and even sometimes performed at their recitals or concerts. He had a regular slot on Thursday evenings with Minako’s Troupe – a group of her best dancers, all top SIM graduates, who often performed at the Lincoln Center and other theatres around the city.

And Yuuri often danced at Minako’s studio himself, still intent on keeping on top of his fitness but even more so, just drawn to ballet as an outlet. He’d always loved the form, and enjoyed being able to make a different kind of music with his whole body rather than just his hands.

He hoped Minako would let him practice tonight, after classes finished. She’d mentioned she had a surprise for him, but he assumed it was another free dinner at their favourite local Yakitori Bar. Maybe he could rain-check it …

Shrugging his scarf closer to his face as he felt he temperature drop, Yuuri made his way through the streets towards the studio, satchel still in his hands. He’d remembered to pack the charts for the Troupe’s latest performance – a more modern rendition of The Nutcracker. It was a selection he enjoyed playing, though it sounded much better with a full orchestra.

The studio was warm, and Yuuri always felt a small sense of coming home when he stepped inside. The walls were a soft wood, with some small framed Japanese etchings tastefully placed along them. There was a Bonsai Sakura tree on the front desk, Minako’s assistant seated behind it. She glanced up, recognising Yuuri and offering him a professional smile. He smiled back, nodding and making his way through to the stairs.

“Yuuri, glad you could make it,” Minako said brightly as he entered the main studio. A few of the dancers were already warming up and he offered them a small smile.

“Hey Minako,” his voice was soft, but being around Minako was as easy as breathing, so he found he could speak a little more confidently. Even if the memories of the other studio he’d been in earlier today still cast an anxious shadow across his mind.

He shed his jacket and scarf as Minako waved him over to the piano, turning back to one of her students and going over some choreography. Yuuri placed his jacket and scarf under the piano seat, relishing the feeling of not being the centre of attention as he sat at the familiar stool.

It was one of the reasons he loved piano. The real star of the show was the instrument – it took up the most room, could be as loud and commanding as any singer, if not more so. But the whole time, the player – Yuuri – could be invisible. Silent. And piano was always the most popular as an accompaniment, allowing Yuuri to truly blend into the background and let himself just melt into the music. Nobody judged the accompanist. Nobody even saw them.

So, after the events of the day where he’d been centre stage under Madame Baranovskaya’s judgement, settling into the role of accompanist was exactly what Yuuri needed to unwind.

The rehearsal went well, Minako leaning casually but gracefully against the grand, offering corrections and advice to her students where appropriate. She sometimes flicked Yuuri a sly smirk or a wink when she said something particularly layered, clueing him in to some inside joke they shared. Yuuri’s nerves soon melted into calm, and he contented himself with getting lost in the music and the movement of the dancers.

Yuuri actually knew some of the dancers personally, having either trained with them on occasion or shared lecture halls when they were studying at SIM. He could tell they were just as relaxed as he was – still working hard and concentrating with sweat dripping down their brows or a look of determination in their eyes, but relaxed all the same. The studio was a comfortable space – Minako having worked hard to keep “real life,” as she called it, firmly outside of the studio. When you walked through the doors, you could step into new shoes, forget whatever you were outside, and focus on dancing. Still, she often played counsellor to her students – God knows she’d done it enough with Yuuri to basically earn herself a psychiatrist’s license – outside of the studio. She’d once told Yuuri, over a bottle of sake at their favourite bar, that artists were the most vulnerable of the human race. They didn’t just wear their hearts on their sleeves, they displayed it on a stage for the world to see.

Somehow, as Yuuri played and let his mind wander, he found himself wondering if that rule applied to Viktor.

Viktor’s status on campus was well known to Yuuri. Phichit as well, who often gushed about the famous tenor in the safety of their apartment like he was some kind of celebrity. And Yuuri thought, absently, that he probably was a kind of celebrity, at least in the music world.

Viktor’s parents were wildly famous musicians – his mother the lead soprano at NYC Opera for almost three decades before her recent retirement, and his father a famous composer and infamous conductor come manager of the New York Philharmonic. Their reputations as ruthless artists and unparalleled masters of their crafts had propelled them into international stardom, and their other worldly good looks and “exotic” Russian lineage made them instant favourites in almost any circle.

Viktor was born to greatness, in every sense of the word. It was almost a joke that he even attended SIM in the first place.

He’d been a prodigy since he was young, taking to singing like a boat to water, and effortlessly moving onto dance and composition, having performed at numerous prestigious events, concerts, and competitions for years. He’d just been granted the lead role of Rodolfo in NYC Opera’s upcoming production of La Bohéme – the youngest tenor on the company’s roster in decades. And not only was his voice stunning, but his looks almost guaranteed him roles in any field. He’d performed in musical theatre last year, showing himself to be an exquisite dancer, singer, and performer. From music companies to media outlets, Viktor had most of New York in the palm of his hand at just 27.

So Yuuri found it hard to imagine Viktor being “the most vulnerable of the human race.” If anything, Viktor was confidence incarnate.

As Yuuri let himself drift, he fell into playing on autopilot, mind sifting through memories and honing in on his run in with Viktor earlier at the school studio.

He was so confident – almost ethereal in how self-assured he was. And it wasn’t arrogant, Yuuri noted. He was just sure of where he stood – understood his own limits quite thoroughly. Yuuri wondered if Viktor was hard on himself during practice. He probably wasn’t as hard on himself as Yuuri, since Yuuri wasn’t naturally gifted or genetically destined to be a musician like Viktor was. Viktor probably just practiced as a formality.

Something about the music he was playing had Yuuri closing his eyes, replaying their meeting and slowing it down like some kind of internal film. He could almost see Viktor’s eyes, hidden in shadow with the light behind him, but still a brilliant blue against his pale skin… silvery eyelashes framing them perfectly … the set of his lips…

“Yuuri?”

His eyes flew open and he stopped playing, realising he’d all but daydreamed off the face of the planet. He glanced over to Minako who was looking at him with an amused expression.

“We’re doing a traditional Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, not Jazz-Interpretive,” she said with a smirk, arching her brow as Yuuri blushed.

What had he been playing?

“O—Oh, sorry,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Some of the dancers were whispering to themselves, the few he knew giggling good naturedly. Yuuri ducked his head, focussing on the keys and trying to ignore his embarrassment.

“Let’s pick it up from the t—” Minako suddenly stopped, interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“I’m so sorry, is this a bad time?” a voice said, and Yuuri felt his heart leap into his throat.

Standing at the door, slightly breathless, hair dishevelled and peppered with snow – it was snowing? – was none other than Viktor Nikiforov.

Instinctively, Yuuri turned to glance out the window. It was snowing. And it was dark. How long had he been daydreaming for? How long had Minako let him play for?

Had Viktor heard…?

Yuuri’s cheeks set themselves alight and he ducked his head again, desperate now more than ever to be as invisible as possible.

And what was Viktor doing here? He was a member of the SIM Official dance troupe, there was hardly any need for him to practice here.

“Ah, Viktor, come in,” Minako said in a friendly tone. Minako knew him? Yuuri felt like his brain was quickly derailing.

“You’re early, of course, but you’re welcome to sit in. We’re close to finishing,” she gestured towards the few scattered chairs at the back of the studio.

The chairs near the piano.

And Viktor was making his way towards the closest chair, right behind the piano stool.

Yuuri tried to remember how to breathe.

“Oh,” Yuuri heard behind him, the voice sounding like some kind of symphony even if it also sounded like it was coming to him from the bottom of a well.

“You’re Lilia’s new student, right? We met earlier?” Viktor was talking. Viktor was talking to him. Talking to him like he wasn’t just playing the starring role in Yuuri’s brain theatre moments ago…

Yuuri gathered all the strength he could muster and turned slightly to face him. Yes. Yes, Viktor was every bit as beautiful in person as he had been in his mind. Even more so. It was almost painful to look at.

Viktor was in the process of undressing, setting his coat and sweatshirt across the back of the chair, scarf unravelling from around his neck. Yuuri found himself unable to look away from Viktor’s movements – it was almost a dance, the way his fingers and hands touched and pulled and stretched and…

Yuuri vaguely registered that Viktor was waiting for an answer.

“Y—Yes,” he squeaked, tipping his head in an instinctive bow which earned him a strange look. He blushed – if it were possible to blush any more than he already was – mentally chiding himself for slipping out of American culture. Nobody in America bowed. There was a slight pause, Viktor watching him levelly as he sat down behind him. Yuuri swallowed.

“I’m Y—Yuuri Katsuki,” he added breathlessly, thinking it was probably normal for humans to introduce themselves in this kind of situation. Viktor beamed a smile in response.

“A pleasure. I’m Viktor Nikiforov. We’re both at SIM I think?” Viktor cocked his head, hair falling over one of his eyes in a way that was very, verydistracting. Yuuri tried to remember the English language.

“Yes, I believe so,” he said softly, glancing away. He couldn’t very well let Viktor know that Yuuri had known they were at the same school since he’d first been accepted. That he and Phichit had followed Viktor’s studies and career meticulously, like he was some kind of musical god.

“I’m glad you’re accompanying. I’ve been looking for someone good to practice with for ages. You’d think it would be easy to find a decent pianist here of all places, but they don’t grow on trees apparently. Or at least, that’s what Lilia would say,” Viktor offered him another smile, humming a little laugh like he’d just included Yuuri in some kind of inside joke. Was it a joke? Yuuri couldn’t tell. He could hardly keep up with the English, let alone understand the social nuances. Where was Phichit when he needed him?

Yuuri distantly wondered that this would make for a great story for Phichit – a terrible story for him.

“Alright, Sugar Plum again please Mr. Katsuki,” Minako’s voice cut across his thoughts. She was on the other side of the studio now, holding one of the dancer’s legs to help them stretch. Yuuri swallowed. Yes. Sugar Plum. Easy.

It was a miracle he made it through the first few bars, let alone the whole piece. He was lucky he knew the song so well, hardly needing to look at the music to know where he was up to. And as accompanist, the song itself wasn’t too hard, just melodic enough to replicate the full orchestra piece and cue the dancers where necessary. It was a relief, because Yuuri found the entirety of his senses tuned to the man seated behind him. Every squeak of the chair he sat in, every appreciative hum, every breath was like an electric bolt through his veins. By the end he was almost sweating where he sat, nerves completely shot.

“прекрасный!” Viktor said from behind him, chair dragging across the floor as he stood, clapping excitedly. Yuuri glanced back towards him, adjusting his glasses as he watched the man burst into a wide grin, bouncing from foot to foot like a child. The dancers all blushed and thanked him, though Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that Viktor’s eyes were mainly trained on him.

On him?

“Thank you, Viktor, I’m sure everyone’s even more in love with you now,” Minako said with a smirk at a few of the blushing dancers. They hid their faces and made their way to the far wall where all their gear was piled up. Viktor laughed.

“Please Minako, they probably don’t even know who I am,” he said with a grin. Minako huffed a laugh.

“Maybe. Though I’m sure they’re smart enough to figure out you’re important,” she glanced at Yuuri, flashing him a strange expression he could hardly read.

“You’d have to be,” she continued, leaning against the grand, “To persuade me to allow you the use of my studio - and my best accompanist - after hours.”

Yuuri suddenly felt the ground disappear beneath him as Minako glanced back at him with the most wicked smirk.

“Wh—What…” his voice choked off. Viktor was laughing. Minako was laughing. What was the joke? What had happened?

“Thank you again, Minako,” Viktor said with genuine gratitude dripping from every word. “I promise you won’t regret the favour,” he added with a wink. Minako laughed again.

“Have fun you two! And surprise, Yuuri!” she flashed Yuuri a grin, turning to leave with the rest of the troupe and completely ignoring Yuuri as he stood and stammered, trying to get the words out but finding he’d completely lost his voice.

Yuuri dejectedly watched her leave, and he felt his stomach sink as he realised he was alone. Alone with Viktor Nikiforov.

Phichit would never believe him.

11 notes · View notes

keyboard-smashed · 5 years

Text

The Storm That's Brewing

Warnings: Snake, blood (not in detail but it's mentioned), tell me if there's anything else

(link to chapter 1 & 3 at the bottom)

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Chapter 2- Singing With The Birds

To Virgil’s surprise, three whole weeks past by with no incident- unless you counted the morning that Patton told a joke about something sciency that made Logan laugh so much he choked on his tea, which caused him to drop his mug, which caused Roman to run our of his room, his hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a red bath robe, brandishing a pool noodle as a weapon (though why he had a pool noodle in his room was beyond Virgil). No, Virgil would only class this as an incident if he’d not managed to get a picture, but his lock screen proved this not to be the case.

In the brief amount of time, all four men had managed to find jobs. Acting was Roman’s profession of choice, but the local theatre was already halfway through their rehearsals for the upcoming play (We Will Rock You) and no roles were left, so he’d have to wait a few months to persue that. Instead, he found a job as a singer in a small restaurant that had live music on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He only worked two or three of the nights per week, but the pay was alright and the tips were very generous most of the time.

Patton’s job surprised Virgil the most. A librarian wasn’t something he’d ever imagined Patton being. Pat always been insecure about his dyslexia, avoiding books and reading as much as he could, unless he was being read to by someone else. Virgil had vivid memories of Pat begging him to finish a story at 2am. Sure, he loved stories, but he hated reading. That’s why when Virgil visited Patton at work, he was utterly shocked to see Patton sitting in a circle of kids, reading to them. He did well for the most part, but whenever he was struggling, he’d call on one of the older children to help him out. The scene was so sickeningly sweet.

And Logan- well nobody knew what he did. He spent most of his time hauled up in his room, and would rush out of the house at random hours and be gone from any time between forty minutes and a day. When asked what he was doing, he simply responded “work”, and retreated back to continue that. It seemed to be the only subject he wouldn’t lecture everybody about. The lead theory about his job was Roman’s, who believed him to be a spy. It was ridiculous of course, but the others had no proof against the claim to disprove it.

Virgil briefly, when delivering the message from Roman that dinner was ready, caught a glimpse of the inside of Logan’s room. As he’d expected, it looked like a science lab more than a home. The space was very impersonal. His walls were stark white and his bedsheets and curtains a dark blue, bordering black. A large bookcase sat next to his bed, filled to the brim with books. It was all extremely neat and precise. Except the desk. The desk was full of paper, strewn around like it had been hit with a small tornado- something very familiar to Virgil. He didn’t get a good look at anything specific Logan had been working on though, which left the work a mystery still to him, Roman and Patton.

Virgil’s work was a lot less interesting than Logan’s, as a barista at the local Starbucks. He hated it. The pay wasn’t great, he hated coffee, he had long hours and had to deal with rude people all day which left him too socially exhausted to do anything after work except eat the dinner than Patton forced upon him on the days he was there.

What Virgil really didn’t want to see when he got home- exhausted and in serious need of a nap- was a bunch of birds in the apartment, chirping at his brother, and his brother chirping back. Virgil really couldn’t deal with this today.

“Patton! What the hell?” Virgil scolded, quickly closing the door behind him, “What if Roman had come home, or Logan? How could you possibly explain this?”

“Hey, bad day at work?” Patton asked. He chirped something at the birds. They chirped back enthusiastically and flew through Roman’s room and out the window. Virgil relaxed a tiny bit.

Patton chuckled and put his arms up in defence, his attempt to change the subject clearly thwarted, “It’s okay, they’re friends of Margaret. Roman left for a manicure ten minutes ago, and Logan’s busy in his room.”

Virgil dropped his voice to a loud whisper, moving closer to Patton so he could hear him, “He’s inside the apartment?! What if he’d seen you? Or heard you?” Virgil’s mind was racing with all the ways that it could’ve possibly gone wrong.

“You know Logan, he doesn’t stop work for anything-” Patton started. Virgil internally screamed.

Suddenly Logan’s door swung open, “Is everyone alright? I heard yelling, and... Chirping?”

“Sorry we disturbed you, Lo, we’ll try keep it down.” Patton promised.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was just checking everybody was alright, and the chirping...?” Logan asked slowly. Patton and Virgil looked worriedly between each other. Logan continued, “Were you watching a nature documentary?”

Virgil visibly relaxed. He didn’t suspect anything.

“Actually, it was the sound of me tweeting.” Patton laughed. Virgil’s shoulders tensed. Whhhhy?

“Uh yeah, Patton has a custom sound when he tweets. It’s a bird sound because he’s tweeting.” Virgil recovered, sealing the deal with a completely unbelievable fake laugh. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Logan furrowed his eyebrows. There was no way he was buying it.

“Right. I must return to my work. If you do end up watching a nature documentary, please call me, the Discovery Channel is doing an intriguing piece on the kookaburra.” He said, walking back to his room. Virgil couldn’t believe he’d bought it. Had he bought it?

As soon as Logan was out of earshot, Virgil whispered, “How did he even hear us, we were whispering when he came out. Jeez, it’s like he’s got super hearing or something.” Patton gasped.

Virgil quickly said, “No. I was kidding. No.”

Patton pouted.

“Okay, I’m going to my room.” Virgil said, desperately needing a nap.

“Okay!” Patton agreed.

Virgil walked into his room, dodging the boxes be still hadn’t had the time to unpack, and fell onto his bed.

Patton followed and sat on the edge, “So, Margaret sent Michael to find-“ Virgil groaned and rolled into his back, “-the local birds that aren’t migrating this year, their friend has a hurt wing and they’re staying on our roof, so that we could meet them. She also wants to visit, as soon as she can get her kids to behave well enough to be this far into the city.” Patton finally paused to take a breath.

“Is Margaret the one that sat on my window and woke me up every morning?” Virgil asked.

“Yep!” Patton twirled himself around on the desk chair.

“And she had kids?”

“Yeah, how could you forget? We stayed up all night waiting for her eggs to hatch.” Patton said. The memory came flooding back to Virgil.

“Sorry, my brain’s a bit...” He trailed off, unsure what word would best describe the mental haze that seemed to lurk in his brain the past few days.

“Foggy? Cloudy? Misty?” Patton suggested. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do you think it’s because you haven’t been using-”

“You were saying about the birds.” Virgil interjected, hoping his subject change would go unnoticed. To his joy, it did.

“Right! So Michael also told the birds that they can come to us with any problems they have-“

Virgil mumbled, “Great.”

Patton ignored him, “-and so they came to ask for help.”

Virgil sighed, there was no way he was going to get a peaceful night. He sat up in his bed, “Fine. What’s the problem?”

“There’s a snake trying to take over their habitat.” Patton said calmly.

“That’s snakey.”

Patton’s head shot up, Virgil had made a pun!

Virgil lay back down in his bed, “Forget I said that. What exactly do the birds want us to do?” He asked, already knowing the answer but praying for another one.

Patton offered no such solution, “They want us to talk to the snake and ask him to move.”

“Pat, come on, it could be dangerous. What if it’s poisonous? What if it attacks” Virgil said as his brain supplied him with all the possible solutions for what could go wrong. Gosh, he loved being him.

“Then you’ll save us.” Patton said with one hundred per cent certainty. Virgil wasn’t so sure.

“Snakes can strike really quickly, what if I’m too slow or it bites me first and then you. Nobody would find us.” He said solemnly.

“Why don’t we ask Logan about poisonous snakes?" Patton asked.

Virgil wanted to say, ‘Are you crazy?’, then realised that would be completely insensitive. He felt bad for even thinking it. Instead he settled for, “That’s too conspicuous, Pat.”

Virgil must’ve spent too long thinking about what he was going to say, because before he could talk Patton down, he was gone.

Virgil heard the sound of knocking and ran out of his room. Logan opened his door.

“Have you decided to watch a documentary?” Logan asked.

“Aw, not yet, sorry,” Patton said. Logan’s face dropped a little, “But we were wondering if you could tell us anything about how to tell if a snake is poisonous or not.”

Logan sighed, “Well I assume that you mean venomous. Poison is ingested, unless you plan to eat the snake, which is, of course, delicacy in some cultures,” Virgil and Patton both looked disgusted. Logan guessed that this meant they wanted to know about venomous snakes, “Alright then. You can usually identify them by the shape of their head. Venomous snakes tend to have broader heads and skinnier necks. Their snouts are also pointier. If you can get closer to the snake, which I wouldn’t recommend unless you are sure it is not dangerous, you will see that they have heat sensitive pads and their eyes are elliptical rather than circular.”

Patton looked back at Virgil where he leant on his bedroom doorframe. He shrugged.

“Uh, could you possibly draw that please?” Patton asked.

Logan nodded, “I suppose. I am not an excellent artist but I can probably show you the basic ideas.” He walked into his room to retrieve some paper and a pen. While he routed through his disaster of a desk, he said, “May I ask why you’re inquiring bout venomous snakes?”

Patton laughed nervously, “Well a little birdy told me that there was a snake on our roof.”

Virgil ignored pun. “On the roof? How did it get up there?!” He exclaimed.

“Large birds of prey often eat snakes. Perhaps this one escaped its captor.” Logan suggested. Finally he found some paper. He walked out of his room and closed the door.

“If there is indeed a snake on the roof like your confidant said, the proper protocol would be to contact the landlord. Then he may contact an exterminator if that is necessary.” Logan said, but he started drawing a diagram of a venomous snake anyway.

Virgil knew Patton would decline, he hated exterminators with a passion. It was one of the very few things he actually hated.

Just as Virgil had had known he would, Patton declined.

“I don’t want to bother them unless we have to.” He said, shaking his head. Virgil doubted he’d call in the authorities even if the snake bit him. His compassion was really going to be his downfall.

Logan considered for a moment, “Alright,” he agreed, “But I beg you remember that even non-venomous snakes can bite. I think it would be best if I went with you so that I could identify it or remove it. ”

Finally Virgil piped into the conversation, worried that Patton would accept Logan’s offer. As much as he wanted an expert- or whatever Logan was- to identify the snake, he couldn’t risk Patton’s cover being blown.

“No thanks. We don’t want to bother you working. I’m sure your drawing will be fine, and I’m sure I can remove the snake without being bitten.” He said.

Logan sighed. “If you’re sure.” He said, handing his drawing to Patton. Virgil walked next to him to see the drawing. Logan really hadn’t been being modest when he said he wasn’t a great artist.

“Wow Logan, this is really...” Patton tried to think of a suitable compliment about the drawing.

“You don’t have to try and compliment me. I am aware that my drawing skills are subpar and can tell when you are lying.” Logan said. Virgil really hoped the last bit wasn’t true.

“...Helpful!” Patton beamed.

Logan smiled slightly, then coughed and reclaimed his usual stoic expression.

“Thank you.” He said, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Right well we best be off- dangerously high roofs to be on, possibly venomous snakes to extract, ya know.”

“I best get back to my work.” Logan said, turning back towards his room. He paused, “Text if you need me.” He closed his door.

“So how are we going to get onto the roof then?”

----------

Taglist: lmaoooo as if

Chapter 1:

Chapter 3:

(^idk how to link stuff in the nice, wordy way)

#the storm that's brewing #tstb #tstb chapter 2 #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #how do you link stuff nicely??

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