#and this is the part where i tie it up to the trauma taylor faces and how it influenced her cape career | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oabf45 · 3 years

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Ok so I finally watched the new 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star episodes and here is what I think overall for the seasons so far, the characters, and part 2 of the seasons. Badically my opinions no one asked for 😁

9-1-1

- Let's rip the band aid off. I'm sorry but we're never getting Buddie. I'm a huge Buddie shipper myself, but I honestly have reached the point where I just don't see it happening. For one their friendship alone just isn't what it's been the past two seasons. Idk if its just me feeling this, but their scenes together, though sweet, just haven't been what they've been in the past. I mean this last episode is the most connection I feel from their characters than i have this whole season. I'm still not over Eddie's lack of reaction to Buck being trapped when Buck was ready to dig through the earth to find Eddie. Though I think there is still a chance Buck could be BI I just no longer have hope that Buddie is going to be a thing. I mean, they've at least hinted that Buck could ride that way, but Eddie has given zero signs of being into men at all. But honestly if they at least explore a BI Buck then I'll be happy, even if he's not with Eddie. It also doesn't help that there's a HUGE possibility that Oliver and Ryan don't get along anymore. They stopped following each other on social media and they post pictures with all the rest of the cast except each other. Its just looking extremely unlikely.

- I don't think Ana deserves as much hate as she's getting. I wasn't so fond of the Eddie/Ana pairing either, mostly because I was so into Buddie. But Ana does seem genuinely a great person and its a plus that Christopher loves her. I just wish that if they were going to persue this they would have built it up more and showed us more of her character. I mean we know close to nothing about her which is what makes it hard to like her or like her with Eddie.

- I'm glad that even if Buck doesn't end up with Eddie he still is obviously going to be someone very close to Christopher. Their relationship is so absolutely darling and even if its not Buddie, Buck is very obviously like a second dad.

- At first I was not at all happy with them bringing back Taylor. I found her character so freaking annoying in the past. But honestly her character seems to have mellowed out and I actually liked her. But I am PRAYING that if she sticks around its just as a friend and not a girlfriend. Buck and Taylor are just a huge NOPE in my book.

- I need more of Athena, Bobby, and Michael ASAP! I miss seeing them more on my screen!

- I'm super excited for baby Chimney/Maddie. And I'm so happy Chimney felt safe enough in his relationship to express his feelings about an at home birth. Their relationship is so sweet and healthy and it makes my heart so warm

- I swear on everything I love if they take that little baby away from Hen and Karen I will RIOT! I also hope to see more of Hen's mom and can't wait to see her pass her exam.

- Albert was wrong for dating Buck's bad date, but he's a good guy and overall a good friend. Buck needs more friends outside of Eddie. I hope they give him more of a storyline in part 2.

- Overall loved the first half of 9-1-1 season 4. I hope they do another crossover in part 2 so that Buck can meet Carlos.

9-1-1 Lone Star

- Yes I have hated the baby trope this first half, yes Gwyn has been annoying af and I'm ready for her to go, and YES Owen has been annoying this season too. But I still love Owen and no I don't believe he's a bad person or a bad father. I hope they do right by his character in the second part and bring the old Owen back now that his life is going to go back to what it was. But I also know this is going to leave room for another romantic interest which you just know they're going to bring in. Maybe they'll bring Michelle back 🤷🏽‍♀️

- The amount of screen time Carlos got is *chefs kiss*. I'm so glad we got to see more into his family dynamic. And how great he is as a cop?! Like make that man a detective already! Also Rafael's acting is superb. He has the most expressive eyes I've ever seen! His face with Owen compliments him on his caring heart and how that makes him a great cop? He BEAMED and it was like no one had ever told him that before. I wanted to hug him so badly.

- I'm so happy they're showing a healthy gay relationship. Sure they've had their ups and downs, but they show TK and Carlos working it out perfectly with good communication which is what we need to see represented more with LGBTQ+ couples on TV. I have no doubt they'll last because they're literally the reason most people tune in and the showrunners know that. And that reuniting hug? Ronen and Raf's real life friendship makes their on screen relationship feel so real and I hope that never changes.

- I need more Mateo. The only thing we know is that he's dyslexic and has a cousin in LA. He's such a great character I wish they'd give him more screen time.

- I know that most y'all see them as just a brother/sister pair, but I love the idea of Mateo/Marjan as a couple. I feel like she could help him grow up a little while he could help her have more fun. But either way I love their relationship and want to see more.

-PLEASE give Paul a GREAT love interest. Someone who loves and accepts him for everything he is. He deserves so much love.

- Tommy Vega is THAT BITCH! She deadass basically said "shoot me. You won't". LOVE seeing a strong black woman on the screen. And I hope they give more screen time to Nancy. I feel like she could be a really interesting character.

- Am I the only one that kind of wants to see them bring back Billy Tyson? I know thats so random, but I think he needs redemption. Idk 🤷🏽‍♀️

- Last but not least......thank GOD I read spoilers before watching the episode because if I hadn't prepared myself and they ended the show with that bridge scene......all I gotta say is JUDD AND GRACE BETTER BE FUCKING OK! OR I'M FIGHTING EVERY DAMN BODY! But honestly I think they will be. These two make the show, for one. Judd is deadass the glue that holds that firehouse together and is overall a great character. No way they're killing him off. And Grace is a fucking saint and also a great character. And she's one of the only two black women on the show. Showrunners, y'all really wanna try that? They're such a great, healthy relationship who are literally so unstoppable together. I think they'll have some trauma but survive. And possibly a Ryder baby? Yes please, and please let it be a baby boy. Judd needs a little mixed cowboy 🤠

- Overall the season has been good, but too Owen/Gwyn central. Hoping the next part has more spotlight on the others. Maybe some "Character Begins" episodes? I think a "Judd Begins" Episode would be perfect to start off with to tie into the whole "omg is he alive" aspect we're bound to get.

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

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Kismet {10}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, Small Time Jump, Mild Angst

Words: 5.8k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The chapter includes some French. I’ve added the translations best I could. Some from memory, but some from Google translate. If the translations are off, I apologize.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

It didn’t take long for you to realize you’d either offended him or hurt his feelings. It was clear from how stiff he was when he walked away from you. Everything about him was different. You’d wanted to call after him or chase him down the street to explain, but something kept your feet planted right where they were. What made you feel worse was that he didn’t switch up. He still called you to say good morning and wish you a safe flight again the next morning. When you’d landed back in LA, he’d picked up your call on the second ring. He didn’t speak like a man with a grudge or chip on his shoulder. He was the same, Henry.

Over the next few days, he kept the same energy and consistency. It was something you didn’t expect, but it was something refreshing. You thought about him more and more, and every conversation you had, you wanted to apologize for your stark reaction, but every time you opened your mouth to, the right words never seemed to form. It also didn’t take you long to notice that he wasn’t asking again. You doubted he ever would.

As the days ticked off and his departure date grew nearer and nearer, you could sense the disappointment in him, and that disappointment came across more and more like hurt. With each passing day, you felt more of an urgency in you that you couldn’t understand. You felt as if your time was dwindling, and you only had so much time to do what was right even though you didn’t know what that was. The day he called to let you know he was about to board his flight, you sat in your living room you wished him safe travels, then hung up, which left you just staring out for hours, wondering how big of a mistake you’d made.

“What’s up with you?”

Alicia’s voice beside you brought you out of your daze. You groaned, then dropped your head back onto the couch.

“Henry asked me to go on vacation with him,” you blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore.

It had been six days since your time together in London, and you hadn’t been able to get it off your mind or tell anyone. When Alicia didn’t respond right away, you looked to her to find a confused expression on her face.

“Confused.”

You groaned again then explained everything that happened in London to her. The only things you left out were the butterflies in your belly the entire night, the feeling of breathlessness every time he came close, the strong urge to touch him any and everywhere, and your impulses that went against everything you’d stood for the last few years. So all in all, you told her everything.

The huge smile on Alicia’s face was expected. You rolled your eyes. “Stop smiling.”

“Okay.”

Her smile remained pasted to her lips, and it was growing with every second. Annoyance flared up in you.

“Stop!”

“I can’t!”

She began giggling.

“You like him, like really, really like him,” Alicia accused, right on the money.

“I do,” your let slip without thought. “I don’t know why or how. I’ve known him maybe two months tops, and we’ve only been out four or five times. I know nothing about him, nothing at all. I don’t know what I like. I don’t know if I like him or his looks and body,” you blurted as each revelation came to mind.

“Oh, you definitely like his looks and body, but I think this is something different, something you’ve never experienced before,” Alicia revealed.

You rolled your eyes again, then stared at the ceiling. She made perfect sense, you thought.

“You’ve heard about love at first sight.”

You sprang up looking at her like she was bat shit crazy.

“Bite your heathenous tongue.”

Alicia busted out laughing then. You remained silent. This was no laughing matter. Especially when the “L” word was waved around willy nilly.

“Oh god, that was not funny,” you said.

“Stop being so dramatic. Look, I know neither of us has ever experienced it; hell, I said it was a fucking bullshit, but--.”

“Don’t Leece,” you cautioned, not ready to remotely go anywhere near that landmine.

“Okay, look,” she began scooting closer to you. “This is what I know. You have these ridiculous rules.”

You glared at her, but she didn’t back down. Before she opened her mouth to speak again, you stood and walked off toward the kitchen, knowing she’d follow. Once in the kitchen, you dug in the fridge for a can of ginger ale, hoping it would settle your stomach, and like clockwork, Alicia reached in also to retrieve one for herself. As she opened the can and took a seat at the island, she continued.

“So your ridiculous rules. I know they’ve kept assholes away this long and has made it possible for you to keep your head above water. I get it, and I’m all for self-perseverance. You know I am. But--,” she smacked her lips as if she was getting ready to tell you off.

“Your rules—honey--,” she sighed. “They’re bullshit, and they are keeping you from developing something substantial, something real, something—true. Now I get that was the point in them in the first place. However, Mr. Blue eyes and British accent,” she finished reading you like an open book.

You gulped the soda, ignoring the burn of the acid on your tongue. It was a trick for the brain. Give it something else to focus on, so you got a moment of quiet. It always worked, but it was only temporary. When you lowered the can, you hissed.

“Fuck!”

“I like him. Amaya likes him. I don’t think he has ulterior motives, and I’m an excellent judge of character. I never liked Evan for a reason.”

You scoffed and closed your eyes, trying to get your brain to quiet down.

“So what do I do?”

“You know what to do. Lucky for you, it’s what you really wanna do anyway.”

“He’s on vacation,” you said.

“Yep, he’s on vacation,” Alicia reiterated.

“I don’t know where.”

“It’s a good and lucky thing you’re a member of a royal family no matter how much you like to denounce it. You can find him.”

A lightbulb went off in your head and giving you your big ah-ha moment. You ran out of the kitchen to the living room where you’d left your phone. You sat then debated what you were about to do. You’d never gone to lengths like this for anyone. It took almost two minutes for you to make the call, and as you did, you wondered if this was a little wrong. It took two minutes to make the call and another two minutes before you had the information you needed. Once you ended the call, Leece was sitting on the arm of the couch with an expectant look on her face.

“So, where is he?”

“Bandol, France,” you answered.

“Ooh, so luxurious. Go get him.”

You stood then hugged her. You didn’t know how she wasn’t tired of your ass after all the years of knowing you and being the one to talk you down off your ledges or up on your horse.

“Do me a favor, best friend.”

“What?”

“Turn him black, so he never goes back!”

You snorted so hard that it hurt. Your laugh was so powerful that your stomach hurt after just seconds.

“Shut up, oh my god.”

For the next hour or so, Alicia helped you pack while you made the call to your manager to let him know you were planning to take some time off. When you said the words, he even laughed, finding it hard to believe you. It took some convincing to let him know you were serious, but once he got it, he was quick to help, saying you needed a vacation. Turns out he’d been trying to find the right time to bring it up. You had a quick meeting where he assured you he’d tie off all your loose ends for the next two weeks to start. By the end of the call, you were halfway to the airport to get to your waiting private plane.

Nervousness was the least of what you felt. Anxiousness, fear, doubt, and nauseousness were right up there. After an hour in the air, it had only grown. You kept worrying if you were doing the right thing or if he’d think you were absolutely insane to fly across the world without a technical invitation. The more you thought about it, the more you doubted what you were doing.

By the time you landed in France, your nerves had pretty much mellowed out, for the most part. The beautiful scenery alone should have worked to calm you and give you a sense that you were on vacation, but it didn’t. Using the email you’d gotten from the family’s security services, you gave the taxi driver the address to where Henry was. As you drove through the town, you marveled at the views and tried to enjoy the warm breeze. When the car stopped in front of an impressive villa, your jaw dropped. He sure didn’t go low key, you thought.

“Mademoiselle Mlle serait -vous que je apporter vos sacs à l'intérieur? {Miss, would you like me to bring your bags inside?}

You contemplated Pierre, the driver’s question for a few seconds.

“Eh bien, ce n'est pas chez moi, si je le faisais, je serais trespassing. {Well this is not my home and if I did that it would be trespassing.}

That realization had you making a face that said you knew it was questionable.

“Comme un homme que je ne serais pas fâché de trouver un ange comme toi-même dans ma maison. {As a man I would not be angry to find an angel such as you in my home}, he said with a wide grin.

Such a sweet talker, you thought as you laughed. I smile.

“Voilà monsieur douce. Je vais attendre ici. {That is sweet sir, but I will wait here}

“Ici, sur les étapes ? Seul? {Here, on the steps. Alone?}

He sounded like it was something he’d never heard of. You got out of the car then looked around for the best spot to sit and wait.

Oui, je vais bien. Merci de votre aide. {Yes, I will be fine, thank you for your help.}

Pierre came around the car then opened the trunk to take your bags out. One by one, he brought them to the steps of the villa. Once he finished, you dug into your purse and handed him four hundred dollar bills, and pressed them into his palm. He looked shocked but appreciative. After thanking him, he drove off, leaving you there with the seaside cliff view as your company.

You texted Alicia and Amaya, letting them know you’d gotten there but knew they probably wouldn’t see it right away, thanks to the time difference. You sat for a few minutes only to get up and pace back and forth for another few minutes. Then you switched and did it over and over. Your brain made it feel like it was an eternity that passed, but you knew that couldn’t have been true. You heard a motorcycle approaching and watched as a silverish white one pulled up. You couldn’t tell if it were him, but you had a feeling it was. Once he’d turned the engine off, his movements slowed, and you knew he’d seen you.

He threw his large leg over the bike then peeled off his helmet, revealing curly hair and a scruffy beard. You gulped. That’s how damn good he looked.

“Damn.”

Henry approached you with a confused but cautious look on his face. It did nothing to assure you that you hadn’t made a colossal mistake. Unable to hold his gaze, you looked over what he wore, preppy sky blue shorts and a white polo shirt that was unbuttoned, showing off sprigs of chest hair. You’d imagined he had chest hair, and this was your answer.

“Aliya?”

“H—hi,” you stuttered.

Henry looked around like he was wondering how the hell you got there.

“What’re you doing here?”

“In France?”

“On my doorsteps,” Henry clarified.

“Oh, um—right. I can see how this would—look. Strange, alarming even. I promise there is an explanation.”

Nervousness overtook you, making you giggle. Henry stood there patiently waiting for said explanation, but the look of bewilderment didn’t go away.

“How did you know where I was, first of all?”

Damn it, you thought, trying to find your voice. “Eh-em, well—I called in a favor and—had your cellphone tracked.

His eyes widened, and you braced yourself for the freak-out you suspected was coming.

“What!?”

With your face scrunched, you decided to face it head-on and nodded. “Yeah. Saying that out loud now, I can understand how it sounds and even how it looks.”

“So, you know people who will just track a phone?”

Uh-oh, you thought, trying to find an answer that wouldn’t give anything away.

“I do,” you slowly answered.

Henry stared at you, and you knew he was weighing his options on whether to call the cops to get your ass out of there or listen to more. It was hard to read him, harder than it had been the last few times you'd been together.

“You’re freaking out. Look, I’m not crazy; I promise I’m not. I just—I had to find you.”

“Why? You made yourself perfectly clear a week ago,” Henry threw in your face.

“I did,” you began, groaning from exhaustion. You sat down on one of the steps and sighed.

“God, I have lived with a set of rules for the last three years. These rules have helped me tremendously. They’ve helped me keep people at arm’s length and have helped me protect myself from everyone, whether they meant ill or good. I’ve lived with these rules and have never broken any of them—not one. Then here you come.”

You dropped your head into your hands and released a heavy breath before you continued.

“Here you come, and within less than a month, I’d broken three, and that alarmed the shit out of me. I wasn’t prepared and didn’t know how to deal with it. Then you go asking me to go away on vacation with you and—that would have broken another rule, and that would have led to me breaking all of them on this vacation,” you blurted out.

Henry stood there, staring at you with yet another unreadable expression plastered across his face. Your head said shut up, but your lips kept moving.

“I couldn’t accept, then this last week I realized that I didn’t want to be anywhere but here—on this vacation—with you, and if it meant breaking another rule, then it would be broken. So here I am.”

Henry sighed, “What are these rules?”

Uh-oh, you thought again. You were sure after you told him he’d run for the hills. Even Amaya and Alicia made fun of your neurotic ass because of these obsessive rules. You chewed your bottom lip, reluctant to voice them. Henry didn’t look to be in any hurry, though; he just waited.

Realizing he still hadn’t kicked your ass to the proverbial curb, you said a silent prayer, took a breath, and sang like a canary.

“Um—in no particular order—one, no outings that have been labeled as a date, only hanging out is acceptable. Two, no back to back outings and or hanging out. Three, no hand-holding. Four, no one sees my house or how to get to my house. Five, No one comes to my house at all, not even to hang out and definitely not sleep. Six, I don’t hang out or sleep at anyone’s home. Seven, no kissing on the first date. Eight, no kissing on the second date. Nine, no kissing on the third date. Ten, no kissing with my eyes closed, period. Eleven, no PDA. Twelve, no gifts of any kind. Thirteen, no emotional intimacy. Fourteen, no vacations together. Fifteen, no sex with anyone you can see yourself with longer than three months. Sixteen, no meeting families or friends on either side. Seventeen, Never relinquish control.”

Hearing them out loud, you would have run in the other direction without looking back. He didn’t move, though, hell he didn’t even speak. He didn’t have to; his face was doing all the talking you needed. With bugged eyes, slightly parted lips, and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked the perfect picture of an outright terrified man.

“Those are a lot of rules.”

You nodded. “Yes, they are.”

He took several moments before speaking again. “How do you keep them all in mind?”

“Practice.”

“Wow, I don’t—I don’t know what to--.”

His words drifted off, and you watched him rub the back of his neck.

“So you’re willingly going to break number six and thirteen.”

He already had them memorized; you thought as you nodded. “Pretty much.”

Henry studied you for several more moments and then breathed out before he walked up the front doorsteps. You watched him unlock it before he looked back at you.

“Please come in.”

You didn’t know if he was serious or not, so you didn’t move. He must have sensed it because he beckoned you over with an added smile. Sighing, you slowly walked up the steps toward him and the door.

“I’ll get your bags,” he said before he walked back down the steps to gather your bags two by two.

On his second trip, you walked inside with him and looked around. It looked like a mix of Mediterranean, coastal, and traditional décor. The ceiling's wooden beams complemented the neutral colors of the furniture and the wood strewn around the foyer.

“Make yourself at home,” Henry said before he walked out again for the remainder of your bags.

You took a few more steps and looked at the art on the wall. They all were a mix of expressionist and abstract, and all made you feel relaxed. You could see him living here, and you wondered if he were renting this or if he owned it. A photograph on the sideboard resting against the wall caught your eye. It was of him and four other men all wearing athletic clothing, smiling widely and holding up medals. They all resembled each other, making you deduce they could have been his brothers. You walked further inside the home toward what looked like a living room and touched the white brick accent wall. It was a pleasing aesthetic that was set.

“Wow. This is--.”

You didn’t know the right word. Henry approached and stood beside you as you continued looking around.

“This is an architectural dream, and very different than I thought.”

“You’ve thought about my home?”

You paused with your hand on the back of one of the creamish, grey tufted couch and turned to look at him.

“Um, the environment to which you lay your head,” you cautiously corrected. “They say someone’s home tells you everything you need to know about them.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded and continued walking around the living room. The view from the arched window was beautiful.

“Let me give you a tour,” Henry offered, leading the way out of the living room.

He walked around, showing you each room, and they all resembled one another. You could imagine him in each room. Sitting in the armchair by the big window sipping coffee or kicking his feet up while watching tv at night before going to bed. When he showed you the kitchen, you pictured him cooking shirtless, making some French dish. It all screamed him.

“This is all yours?”

“I bought it as a holiday home for my family. I wanted us to have a place where we could go on holiday either together or separately. That is why it’s so big. There are a lot of us.”

“That’s nice,” you answered.

You nodded and followed him outside the large French-style glass doors. As soon as you stepped out, you could help but gasp at the beauty.

“Oh my god. Holy shit, this—this is—incredible. Wow.”

You gaped at the comfortable sitting area that was primed for dining outdoors. You went up the few steps and turned to the right, and marveled at the inground pool and the greenery of France.

“It is.”

Smiling, you turned to him then scoffed. “Wow.”

Henry smiled softly, then dipped his head. When he did, the smile fell.

“I’ll show you where you’ll sleep,” he said before turning to walk back inside. You took one more look around and followed him.

It wasn’t a quick walk by no means. You noted it was probably the other side of the house. When he stopped and opened a large, heavy wooden door, you walked in first. The room wasn’t obnoxiously large. It was comfortable and minimally decorated. You walked to the window and smiled. It was the perfect view of the cliffside.

“Is it to your liking?”

You spun while nodding your head. “Of course, thank you.”

“No problem,” Henry replied. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, but he was the one to look away.

“I’ll bring your bags.”

He walked out, leaving you to admire the view some more and formulate a better plan. You’d only thought as far as finding him. You didn’t plan to tell him everything about your rules, and now you didn’t know how to proceed. You felt awkward.

“God Aliya, stalker much?”

Sighing, you began pacing the floor, hoping something would come to you while you tried not to imagine him thinking of you like some crazy chick. Your phone went off, and you were thankful for the distraction. You plopped into the chair beside the window and went through your emails and messages, answering the urgent work ones, quickly getting lost in them.

“Here you go,” Henry began as he placed your bags on the far left side of the bedroom. You heard him come in, but being in the middle of an email, you didn’t look up, just mumbled a thank you.

“I thought a vacation was supposed to mean no work.”

Looking up at him, you released a breath. “I’m sorry, I—I got distracted, and I got sucked in.”

Smiling, you put your phone down, hoping he would see it as a peace offering. He was leaned against the wall with one leg crossed over the other.

“I understand. It happens to me too. I personally set everyone I work with, or for on a separate ring and alert sound, so I know not to answer or check it.”

“Everyone? That has to be at least fifty people,” you said.

“Try sixty-five, seventy.”

“Wow. How long did that take you?”

“Ha—hmm, about forty-five minutes maybe an hour,” Henry added.

“Is that what you think I should do?”

He shrugged, then raked his fingers through his curly tousled hair, and you wondered if he’d even bothered using a comb or a brush this whole time. He didn’t look disheveled, though. He looked perfect like this.

“I can’t say. It’s up to you.”

Again, your eyes locked, and you were just waiting, wishing for him to give you any hint at all that he wasn’t done with you and just being polite and hospitable.

“Thank you for bringing my bags, Henry.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled then spoke again. “Out of curiosity, how long were you staying? You have enough bags to say a few weeks.”

“Um—one thing you’ll learn about me, I overpack all the time. I can’t seem to, no matter how hard I try, but I’d rather have something I need rather than not have it when I need it,” you answered.

He nodded, then uncrossed his legs before changing his position.

“How—how long are you staying?”

“I planned on being here for about a week, maybe.”

You nodded, “Then?”

“Not sure. I’m not making plans for the next three and a half weeks at least,” he answered.

Tens of things flashed through your head to say, but you were still trying to read him and the situation. After a few seconds of silence, Henry spoke again.

“You’re—uh—you’re welcome to tag along wherever the wind blows.”

You didn’t like the sound of “welcome to,” but you also knew you’d already fucked the situation up, so you shouldn’t have any expectations. You sighed, then bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your lips from opening. You had the worst censor.

“Welcome? Huh, somehow that sounds different than an—invitation.”

Henry scoffed then nodded. “Last time I gave you an invitation, you didn’t really accept it or gracefully decline it.”

Damn, you thought. He’d thrown that right at you with force. You deserved it. He was right, you hadn’t accepted the invite, and it was done in true Aliya fashion—avoidance.

“Wow. Did you really just call me ungraceful?”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting the smile.

“You called yourself that,” Henry answered.

Another long stretch of silence filled the room, and the longer it went on, the more nervous you got. Henry pushed off the wall.

“I’ll make some lunch,” he said before he walked out.

Once he was gone, you breathed out and tried to catch your breath. There was something about him that always gave off an overwhelming feeling. It wasn’t a feeling of you being afraid but in a heightened state. Of what? You were still trying to figure it out. You slowly began unpacking your things while setting all your contacts on an alert. You were going to try his strategy to see if you would actually be able to enjoy this vacation.

About an hour later, you walked out of what was designated as your room and walked through the house, looking into rooms with open doors and around corners for where he could be. Following your nose and the delicious scent of roasted vegetables, you stepped into the kitchen expecting to see him, only to find it empty. Backtracking, you walked to the opened doors that led outside and saw him putting down a bottle of white wine on the rustic walnut table that had two place settings filled with the fruits of his labor.

“Right on time. I was going to come knocking.”

You smiled and tipped your head back to take in the wood and vines wrapped around the pergola.

“No need. I cannot get over this view,” you said.

“Do you come to France a lot?”

“No. I come once in a while, usually for work.”

“Ever Baldon?”

You approached the table, sliding your finger along the Rattan chair that accompanied the table.

“No.”

“Nice, so you’re a tourist,” Henry said with a smile as he pulled out a chair for you.

You returned his smile and sat down. “I am.”

As he walked to his seat adjacent to yours, you took in the spread before you. “What do we have here?”

“Avocado salad with mozzarella and roast beef sliders on Fiselle,” Henry explained as he pointed out everything he mentioned.

You were impressed. “Wow. Did you make this?”

His smile was wide; he looked proud. “I did. The roast beef was leftover from last night, and the avocado salad was quick. The bread was store-bought from the bakery in town, though.”

It all looked delicious. “So you can cook.”

“Yes, I can. My mother taught me; she taught all of us. She said it was her gift to our future significant others.”

You chuckled, already liking his mother. Henry motioned for you to try something, and you wasted no time doing so. You placed a forkful of the salad into your mouth, your eyes instantly closing. You moaned at the avocado's buttery taste and how the flavors of the mozzarella and lemony but sweet vinaigrette complemented the tang of the vegetables.

“This is good.”

Henry’s smile widened as he picked up one of his sliders.

“Thank you. Do you like French food?”

“I do.”

He nodded again as he finished chewing what was in his mouth. “Good, you’ll be eating a lot of it.

You couldn’t help but smile because it sounded like he planned on cooking for you more often. You liked the sound of that and everything it meant. The two of you ate in relative silence, but it wasn’t an awkward one. You were enjoying the feel of the sun beaming down on you through the vines and the sound of the ocean, you guessed was only a few miles away. You could even smell the salt in the air from it. Henry did look to be in dire need of conversation either. He seemed happy to listen to the song of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. You were glad for it because it gave you the needed time to get your thoughts together.

However, your thoughts only dwelled on one thing; the prospect of him hating that you were there.

“Are you freaked out that I’m here?”

Henry didn’t immediately speak. He lifted his glass and leisurely drank half of it before placing it back on the table. “All honesty, I’m just a little confused,” he began.

The taste of the wine on your tongue told you there was more than grapes in it. You tasted pear and even strawberries. It tasted like France.

“Yeah.”

“I do find it interesting that to you, I’m worth tracking my phone.”

You smiled and brought the glass back to your lips, using it more as a distraction than anything else.

“So you don’t plan on calling the FBI and telling them what I did?”

He snorted and leaned back in his chair. “Nah, you’re safe there.”

“It’s not as hard as you think. You just need the person’s full name and phone number,” you matter of factly advised.

“Also, a friend with the skill.”

You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. From the corner of your eye, you could see him smiling like a fool trying not to laugh out loud. It was too much for you, and you had to laugh out loud. In seconds, he joined in, and any tension between you melted away.

After lunch, Henry suggested a quick look around, so you hopped on the back of his Ducati, and he gave you the driving tour of the area. He pointed out the bakery that supplied him with all his baked goods, the local butcher where he got the best cuts of meat, and even the local winery. The town was beautiful, and the best part was that it was so close to the beach. It was everything that everyone thought of when they thought of a town on the Côte d'Azur—beautiful, quaint, luxurious, and a ten on the romantic potential scale.

The entire time Henry remained the perfect gentleman. He kept his hands to himself, allowed you to go first, pulled out chairs, paid for all the small treats you sampled, and kept his language respectful. He was behaving so kind and professional it drove you crazy. The entire time you couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you felt to him or the attraction that was growing by leaps and bounds thanks to the change of his appearance. He looked so good, and your body recognized it.

Your eyes always found each other no matter the size of the crowd or how far you were from one another. When your eyes met, they lingered so long the butterflies in your belly swarmed wildly, making you feel as if you’d run a marathon. You could even tell by the way he looked at you that he might have been feeling the same attraction, but still, he stayed away.

By the time you took a break, the sun was gone, and it was dinner time. Henry chose a restaurant with the perfect ocean view and the sweetest breeze. There was nothing that could have been more perfect. As you sat at the table across from him, eating a classic seaside French meal—Bouillabaisse. As you ate, you listened to a story Henry told about his childhood and the reason why his parents had to put him and his brothers in different sports. It turned out their competitive natures was too much with all of them grouped together, the testosterone needed to be split up.

It was nice getting a different viewpoint of him. Through his work, you got the professional view, and through the magazines and photoshoots the sex symbol view but hearing personal stories in the town where he’d chosen for holiday because of sentimental reasons at a restaurant he’d probably eaten at tens of times really made you want to get to know him better and give him a real chance. By the time you’d finished your dessert and began on your way back to the villa, you made the choice. Try.

The house was quiet, and thanks to the windows and doors he’d left open, it smelled of sea salt, lemons, and the lavender that bathed the surrounding hills. It was a smell you’d gladly get used to.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said once you were in the living room.

“No need to thank me. You have to eat,” he replied with a polite smile that made you clench your jaw.

“How um—how long have you been here?”

“A few days.”

You nodded but didn’t know what else to say. With the combination of the wine, the aphrodisiac oysters in the Bouillabaisse, and the smell of lavender, you felt a gentle lull of relaxation that made you feel ten times shier than you usually were. Henry didn’t speak though his eyes looked as if he had plenty to say. After a few minutes of silence, a confused look washed across his face before he looked down and sighed.

“Good night, Aliya.”

The words caught you off guard, but you nodded and hid it.

“Good night, Henry.”

It was a shaky whisper. You then watched Henry turn from you and walk off in the opposite direction than where your room was. You stood there for a few moments longer, debating with yourself on if you should follow him or not. When you thought to, you had no idea what you’d say when you did. When you finally decided just to call it a night, you’d stood in the dark living room for almost five minutes.

After a quick shower, you laid in bed staring at the full moon through the window, hoping somehow sleep would claim you, but after forty minutes of tossing and turning, you gave up and watched the moon instead. For the first time in months, you didn’t feel the urge to work. All you felt was a stillness in you that was very new—but welcomed all the same.

“Tomorrow is another day, Aliya. Make it right.”

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

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

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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havokangel · 3 years

Text

state of grace (bucky barnes x reader)

the classic nightmare trope, with some angst

♡

a/n; this part 1/3 of my series inspired by taylor swift’s album, red (hey, i may possibly do more!) this is dedicated to my lovely best friend. love u the most <3 i’d also appreciate if ya’ll left some love on ao3 :)

link to ao3

----------

You come around and the armor f a l l s

Pierce the room like a c a n n o n b a l l

Now, all we know, is don’t l e t g o.

Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace….

His body twitches as those words come to him in his sleep, brow furrowing and muscles tensing. His heart feels like it’s a fucking hammer in his chest as his physical body feebly attempts to fight back against the dreadful words being whispered to him in his dream. With every word, the voice gets louder, and Bucky’s body reacts like he has no control over himself, as he desperately tries to fight back against it in his current state. All he can see are flashes of his past life as his breathing becomes steadily uneven as if he’s drowning in red, in the feeling of not being able to escape.

Nine, benign, homecoming, one….

He sucks in a sharp breath. The breath feels like sandpaper being forced down his throat, and he can't stop it.

Suddenly, he’s not in his bed anymore.

He’s clinging for his life, the cold bitter air whipping around his face. The train feels so real.

And then... he’s falling. He’s had this dream before, and it always ends the same. It ends with images of snow turning red as his bleary vision recognizes that his arm is five feet away from him, and the face of a monster. But this time, he doesn’t end up broken and in the snow.

He’s in a chair. Naked from the chest up and his long, stringy hair plastered to his face in sweat, with a fucking leather strap in his mouth.

Bucky feels himself slipping, not sure what’s a dream and what’s real anymore. Everything feels so real and it’s like all five of his senses are being overstimulated with memories he’s tried over and over again to bury. All he knows is that he needs to fucking get out and run and have some sense of self-preservation-

But then, he hears that voice again, as the electricity courses through his body. That evil, dreadful voice that starts maliciously whisper the last word…

He shoots himself straight up out of his bed, his sheets pooling around his waist, gasping for air as if he’s been drowning and he’s coming up for that life-saving, relieving breath of air. His hands are gripping his sheets so hard his fist is white and he can feel the dampness of the cold sweat. Bucky’s skin glistens and his hair sticks to his neck and forehead as he tries to ground himself, bringing himself back to the present. As he attempts to even his breathing, he looks around the room.

My briefs, he begins to note, loosening his grip on the sheets. My boots, my jacket, my phone...

….Her purse. Her hair tie. Her clothes.

Bucky shifts to look beside him, frowning when he sees the vacant space where you were supposed to be. You were with him last night; lips leaving hot trails on skin, demanding hands gripping on to one another as if it were the end of the world it was the last time you’d get to see each other. It had become a routine, he supposes; the sex between you two was your secret, a secret that you both began to seek out more and more as a means of escape from the reality that you both live in.

His hand slowly releases his grip from the sheet to smooth over the hills of the blanket, and before he can overthink about where you might’ve snuck off to, the door opens to you, wearing his henley that practically drowns your figure, and his worries about you are calmed.

“Hey,” you say softly. Bucky already knows that you’re quite aware of what just occurred. You’ve always been perceptive of him, of his feelings. It drove him crazy at first -- but he’s learned to grow fond of it. It saves him the embarrassment of fumbling over his words when he doesn’t know how to express his feelings. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” he nods, voice hoarse. These nightmares always seem to suck the life out of him. “Nightmare.”

“Was it the usual?” You inquire as you shut the door, making your way back to your spot in the bed. You don’t mention the sweat on the sheets, and he’s thankful for that.

“Yeah, the usual.” He groans, making room for you beside him. He doesn’t say a word as you gently reach out for his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as he lays with you. Cuddling and touching like this is something new, something foreign that you’ve both been getting used to with each other. In moments like these, he’s thankful that he’s gotten better with soft touches like this, as it pulls his mind away from the nightmares. “S’different, though. Not just one. Two.”

You’ve learned that Bucky talks when Bucky wants to talk. Pushing and prodding for him to tell you what’s wrong never turned out pretty, for either of you. Just like with the cuddling and soft touches, the vulnerability that comes from him now is new; he usually isn’t open with others. But for you, he’s trying, and you kiss his bicep as he continues.

“There was-the train. And Steve. And that damn…” Bucky starts, but his voice falters. “...that damn voice. Those words…”

Your breath catches slightly. His gleaming metal hand rakes through his hair and he stops his words, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs as if he was trying to hold it together. You just curl into his side, attempting to get closer than you already all, if possible. The heat that comes from your body comforts him, as does the way you kiss his cheek.

“Bucky-I-Fuck. I’m-I’m sorry” You reply sympathetically. You knew from the beginning that there was no way in the world you could ever relate to what Bucky went through, all those years ago; the trauma, the killing, the suffering -- no -- more like torture.

And he knows that you never could. But you’re here, listening to him attempt to begin to tell you how he feels, and that’s enough for him. He never thought he would ever be able to talk to someone about how he feels, what torments him when his eyes finally shut after avoiding sleep--

But he can. It’s fucking terrifying and exciting at the same time and it confuses him. Instead of shoving those feelings away, leaving you to be wrapped up in his sheets as he’s done so many times; he holds you tighter against him, the cold metal of his arm warming as your skin connects to it. He finds as the nights go on, with you, his arm that once was a product; a fucking machine, a goddamn puppet for someone else’s cruel intentions - can be something beautiful, something that can bring pleasure instead of pain.

(You’re to thank for that.)

“I want to sleep now,” he whispers, voice more gentle than you’ve ever heard before. “And I want you to stay with me.”

“Of course, Bucky. Of course.”

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

This is the golden age of something g o o d

and r i g h t and r e a l.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #my writing

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har-rison-s · 5 years

Text

family meeting

request: Can you do one with roger, where he is meeting your parents for the first time?

a/n: I've never written anything like this, so go easy! You know how in each of these kinds of imagines the parents are different? Well, I used my own parents' characteristics for this one. I hope you like this. I hope it's good. Happy reading!

main masterlist

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Roger sighs nervously, adjusting the stupid tie around his neck. I chuckle, not able to help myself. He glances at me through the mirror with a raised eyebrow. “You're too nervous, hon.” I say to him and he looks back at himself. “It's not like my parents are the Queen or something.” You tell him.

While he's dressed in a suit—a crazy idea of his, which you didn't support—you're in a simple jeans and blouse. Your parents are very casual people, at least first hand, and so there's no need to put too much of an effort. Actually, people like that scare them away and make the wrong impression. You tried to talk Roger out of wearing the suit, but he was inconsolable. You gave up three times already.

And Roger is, of course, the rock star. Your parents know that, and it, naturally, doesn't change their opinion on him. They've never met him, but like to believe he's the best guy for you. Which Roger will prove them right, eventually.

“Ah, but you are the princess, though,” Roger says, finally turning around to you. You lean back further onto your arms that rest on your bed mattress and look at him. A smile appears on your features.

“Well, you are very handsome.” You say to him with admiring eyes looking into his blue ones. He chuckles.

“Thank you,” Roger responds, “I know. I'll only give the best to the best. And I do have to make a good first impression.” He says and you laugh.

“You get verbal when you're nervous.” You say and stand up. It's five minutes until you two have to go.

“Oh do I?” Roger raises his eyebrows. You sooth your hands over his shoulders, following them with your eyes, and then look into Roger's eyes. “Could it be because I usually don't talk and when I'm nervous, I talk and maybe then I'm my best self because you find out lots more about me than regularly?” He offers with raised eyebrows and you laugh, hard. Roger's really talking too much when he's nervous.

You wrap your arms around him. “I know everything about you, which means my parents will love you and you've got nothing to worry about.” You tell him, trying to achieve him relaxing in your arms, but he's still a bit tense. You sigh. “Roger, really. They're not horrible and won't play any pranks or any of that sort on you.” You assure and pull yourself back to look at your pretty boyfriend. “You'll be great.” You say, brushing his hair and giving him a kiss. He relaxes at that, though, and it makes you glad and a bit annoyed at the same time. He rests his forehead against yours once your lips are pulled away from his. Roger sighs.

“I just... It's hard to meet your parents' standarts, and I know all parents have hidden standarts for their daughter's boyfriend.” He says, adding the second part before you could object. You sigh quietly, defeated. “Even your nice mum and cool dad have some hidden, unspoken standarts of how they'd like me to be. I just don't want to fail them.”

You smile comfortingly. “You won't.” You tell him. Roger's face softens at your words. “Just tell them all the gory details about sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, and they'll be happy.”

He laughs at that, and you're glad he does. You smile and take his hand in yours before walking out of the room with Roger. He's got no choice but to follow you. He checks the clock on your nightstand, which you'd done seconds before, and sees that it's really time for you both to leave.

“Hi, my name's Robert.” Your dad extends his arm towards Roger, and your boyfriend gladly shakes it. “You can call me Rob.”

Roger nods. “I'm Roger. Roger Taylor.” He says and now your dad nods.

“Well, I know that, but nice to meet you, anyway.” Your dad says and the two men laugh. You're pleased that Roger isn't visibly freaking out. You never would have thought he'd be so nervous to meet your parents.

You stand by your mum, Maria, who holds your waist as you're leaning your head on her shoulder. There's a smile on your lips, and she notices that detail.

“I should tell you, Roger's very nervous for some reason.” You tell her when you both walk to the living room. Roger and your mum are already acquainted and he's given the gift he'd bought but didn't tell you about - a bottle of champagne and box of chocolates. You would have told him that your mum's trying to keep your dad off sugar, but no, he wanted to make a good impression. Well, he certainly did, a true impression of himself at that.

Your mum chuckles. “I understand why, but really, he shouldn't.” She responds. “We're just regular mortals.” She says and you both laugh. You're at the dining table and you take a seat in your regular place, across from where your dad's supposed to always sit. When he and Roger come into the dining room, dad takes his rightful place next to Maria and across you, and Roger sits down next to you and in front of your mum.

You look over at Roger and give his hand a squeeze and he smiles at you. You can still spot the nervousness in him, and so you turn back to your parents.

“I've made a classical northern-french dish which Y/N used to love when she was younger.” Your mum says and you smile at the memory of telling her about it. You couldn't figure out the name for such a long time, until you accidentally stumbled upon it in a magazine. But you still can't keep the title in your mind. “So, Roger, I hope you eat potatoes and pulled meat.”

He nods eagerly. “I do.” He replies. “But what's pulled meat?”

“It's when you just basically tear the piece of meat to shreds with your hands.” Your dad answers before you can even try to, helping your mother fill each of your plates with the french dish. “In restaurants, I've heard they have a machine for that, but you know, it's a waste of money if you can do it on your own.”

Roger nods. “Interesting. Maybe we could try that sometime?” He looks at you with questioning eyes.

“Sure, love. Don't know if it'll be as perfect as mum's.” You admit and the four of you chuckle lightly.

“It smells amazing.” Roger says, looking at your mum, and she just smiles.

“Then let's not waste any time.” Your dad says, lifting his fork and knife to his dish and starting to pick it bit by bit apart.

“Enjoy your meal.” Your mum says and you all hum in response, mouths full of food already.

After you, Roger and dad have moaned about how delicious mum's-made dish is and she's thanked you, the conversation can begin. Your plates are empty and you're sipping mum's famous fruit punch from whiskey glasses. You like that detail, since it's still a running joke between you both.

“Yes, when Y/N was younger, I told her to set the table because dad's colleagues were coming here for dinner,” your mum starts to tell the story, “and she thought that they'd be having proper dinner, like, alcohol and you know—all that.” Roger nods, listening intently while you smile already. “And so she put down whiskey glasses on the table. But I never noticed!” Your mum's eyes light up. “And which drinks were I serving?”

“Water and this punch.” You and your dad say at the same time. Everyone laughs and you're blushing in slight embarrassment. “It's still funny.” You state and Roger nods, looking at you with that beautiful smile of his. His hand is on your back, slowly moving up and down.

“When I was little, about six years old, I used to bang my ma's knitting needles against her pots and pans.” Roger tells your parents and they both laugh warmly. “My first experience with drumming.”

Your dad laughs a fat chuckle. “Were you born wanting to play drums?” He asks and Roger nods.

“It was really the first thing I can remember thinking.” He says. “I was telling everyone 'I'm gonna be a pop star!'” Roger chuckles at the memory, and your mum smiles at that.

“I know it's a banal question and you're sick of hearing it, but,” your dad begins, “how hard is it? Drumming?”

Roger hums, “Well, really, it's hard at the beginning. As is everything, the start is hardest. But it's easier if you love what you're doing. Then it's learning and enjoying it and it becomes, like, a natural thing.” He tells. “The rhythm has to be felt, and after a while it feels like the rhythms are sitting in your chest and you can just bring it out. I think it's different for each drummer, but that's how it feels to me.”

“Very interesting.” Your dad says, nodding. “I remember Y/N wanted to play drums when she was a teenager.”

“Really?” Roger turns to you. “You've never told me that.”

“Yeah, because it connects to a stupid incident.” You reply and shake your head. Roger furrows his eyebrows, a smile stretching his lips, and looks at your dad. He smiles wide and looks at his wife, who only nods with her head to encourage him to tell another story.

“Well, the lessons were at a church.” Your dad begins. “A very, very strict church. We went there together and I told her I'd wait outside. Y/N went inside and looked for the drum room, but there wasn't any. She presumably saw a cult meeting and ran out, very freaked out.”

“Not presumably, dad, I saw a bloody cult meeting.” You correct him. “There were candles and chanting and I was just... spooked, so I ran out.”

Roger laughs. “But did you find the drum room?”

“No, I did not, Rog,” you say, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips, “I gave up on drumming all in all.”

“She liked to say she had a trauma from that.” Your mum chimes in and you sigh, defeated. Your parents and Roger chuckle at you.

“I could still teach you if you want.” He offers and you raise your eyebrows.

“Careful there,” your dad says, “you might teach her so well she'll replace you.” All four of you laugh at that. “Y/N's really good at learning.” You nod, knowing that's the absolute truth.

“Now, who's up for dessert?” Your mum asks after standing up from her seat. You smile at her, and your dad tells her that everyone is. Roger keeps a smile on his face and looks at you. Your eyes seem to be asking 'it's not so bad, is it?' as you look back at him.

Permanent taglist: @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @one-taylor-one-vision@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor x you #queen imagine #queen imagines #queen x reader #request #requested imagine #requests

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reelybadfnafocs · 4 years

Text

Rosemary The Fox

Meet Rosemary (NOT MINE ;))) )

Lmao….I like how you preemptively tagged this ‘Mod Bright’.

EDIT: Sheesh, I’m getting to this way late. I started reviewing this when I was sent in, but I have no clue why I abandoned it. Anyhow, I’ll finish it now.

Name: Rosemary the (pirate)fox

Oh no……my poor name rule…….*puts head in hands*….Okay but in all honestly I think they’re just having their fun here, I’m going to critique it to my standards but I’m a firm believer in things being alright as long as they make sense in context.

Age: 21 Gender: Female Species: Fennec Fox

With this reference image I’m a little unclear of whether this is a kind of AU or not, but it seems like she’s meant to be taken as an animatronic despite her being drawn in human forms. Which is cool! I think it’s cool. As such, I’m assuming the age listed is like…her mental age as an animatronic, and/or the age she died at (skimmed ahead a bit and this seems to be a case of ‘possessed animatronic’).

Also specifying fennec fox as a species/design inspiration adds a little bit of flavor here, despite her name simplifying it to just ‘fox’! I think it’s a good compromise between wanting a more exotic species for your OC and wanting a species simple enough for any child to understand.

Sibling: Emily Bunny/Sunny

Is Sunny another name of Emily Bunny’s or is it another person? It. Might be best to clarify this. Children: Stitched the Lion Ragdoll and Patches the Rabbit Ragdoll Height: 5 ft. and 8 in.

As a human or as an animatronic? Either way this probably works out! My first thought is ‘wow that’s a small animatronic’ but honestly it does make sense for her to be built smaller, and it’s been done irl plenty of times. Bio: When Rosemary was alive her name was Orchid Flower. She adopted Leona (Stitched) and Promise (Patches). She wanted children but she didn’t find anyone that she loves that much and back. (I’m assuming this means she wanted children but she couldn’t find a partner who she was willing to have children with. I do like this plot point, though I think it should be expanded upon! I’m not an expert, but 21 sounds kind of young for adoption, and she would’ve had to prove that she’s able to provide a stable life for these children and whatnot. I do also think there are some barriers that single aspiring parents struggle with when trying to adopt vs couples, so that would be something to write about too.) She was helping to design the animatronics for *Sugar Kitty’s Ice Cream and Pizza* and when the animatronics where built, she was showing Shimmer, Taylor and her sister Sunny. They were killed. (Who are Shimmer and Taylor? Who killed them? And how did Leona and Promise die? If they didn’t die with Orchid, what happened to them after her death? Did they go to another foster parent? Otherwise, I think this is a good set-up, and a good reason for Orchid to be at an animatronic restaurant - after all, she was designing the robots, and I don’t think it’s far-fetched for her to want to show people close to her her hard work in real life.) Orchid possessed Rosemary. Rosemary wasn’t intended to be a pirate it’s just that they didn’t have enough money for the hand so they made her a pirate. (I was going to question this but like. Yeah fair. It’s an easier explanation for her hand being missing than anything else, but there were some ways the missing hand could’ve been taken other than the pirate route (for lack of a better example, see Funtime Freddy. Was,, did he exist when this submission was sent in??? When was this submission sent in-)) After two years of opening Sugar Kitty’s was law sued by Fazbears entertainment because of Rosemary being a *Pirate Fox* like Foxy the Pirate fox. To avoid being shut down they kept Rosemary in her “cove”(their were being law sued for that too). (Yeah this makes sense.) She doesn’t comes out her cove except to say hi to the night watch. There was one time where she was repaired and had her left eye and hand. but it didn’t last. (Why didn’t it last? Was it before or after the lawsuit? Did they try to remake her into something other than a ‘pirate fox’? :thinking:)

Overall the backstory is lacking in detail but makes sense in general and has a lot of potential. As for my last point, I can definitely see her being fixed and the public just. Not having a good reaction to her character suddenly changing, so that might be why her being fixed ‘didn’t last’.

Personality: Sensitive/doubtful/ She’s sensitive, gentle but she could get a bit ruff. She’s the type of person that speaks in a sad toned voice. She holds grudges that she will never forget but person she has a grudge against wouldn’t even remember it but she’ll give them multiple changes. She walks around like she’s sad and has a storm cloud above her. She could be bubbly at times but that’s when she's trying her best to contain herself. She sometimes think that she doesn’t have emotions. When ever someone angers her she says all the bad things in her head. to best summarize it she bottles up her emotion

This section is kind of awkwardly written, but I get the gist. She’s sensitive and gentle but can get rough in certain situations. She’s generally a very sad person and it shows, and she’s quick to hold grudges for things that sometimes aren’t even important. It’s the trauma ™. I think this is a good personality description to start with, but as an animatronic OC I think it would do her some good to write out how she acts around children/how Rosemary (the animatronic) has been programmed to act around children. Has the programming been completely taken over by Orchid’s spirit? Does Orchid work together with the programming? These are some questions that should be considered, I think. Likes: She likes to isolate herself in her “cove”, she likes to draw even though she’s a *lefty* she would tie a pencil to her hook and draw, she likes to sing too, green, blue, flowers, music, plush toys, unicorns(fairytales), she likes to be around the people she’s used to

This is cute. <:) Dislikes: Moving she’s lazy but she might run around, people making fun of her, people whining, hard core gore

Yeah fair, but children are whiny. How does she act around them if she’s in a children-targeted restaurant? Powers/abilities: She has vines that comes out of her back. They only come out when she angry or she actually needs it. But when they come out it hurts her and. When she little angry they’ll only come out a little. But when she extremely angry they’ll come out all the way. But the problem is that most of the time her anger turn into tears. With the vines that has thorns she could extend them. When ever she gets sad thorns would grow on her face starting from under eye patch. They would grow as her sadness would grow. At any time she could summon a veinus fly trap and it doesn’t hurt. When she’s out of control the trap will convert her. When she’s happy or over came sadness roses, orchids or even any pink or red flowers.

How does this work? It could make some good sense with more worldbuilding but we didn’t get the worldbuilding necessary to justify these magical plant powers. Why does Rosemary have these powers? Did Orchid have these powers when she was alive? Is this somehow a part of the robot? Yyeah this should be given more thought.

Think of this what you will

(hey again Mod Bright)

Heheh. Hi.

Anyway, since there wasn’t an appearance section I’ll do some design critique down here-

The neon is kind of really bright! I’m not going to say it’s unpleasant to look at because I’m one of the few that actually quite likes these color schemes, but it feels like as a restaurant design it would be…unappealing to a wider audience. I do like the various alt designs, and I think Rosemary in general just looks super cute. The eyepatch is especially a nice touch! I like the heart. I didn’t get a fullbody of the actual animatronic form, so I can’t pass any judgement on that front, but aside from the neon green/teal I think the colors and outfits/accessories are really nice on the human designs! The pirate design in the middle is especially nice, as all the darker browns balance out the bright hair really well.

Honestly, what keeps me from passing definite judgement is the fact that there seems to be a lot of information and character building missing here that may or may not be present in other places- aka, not the source of this art. For all I know, the things I asked for more elaboration on have already been elaborated on in other posts from this artist!

But with that, I’ll bring my review to a close. Overall? Good character! I like her for various reasons, and I’m intrigued to learn more about her (and the world she’s in, as it seems it doesn’t conform strictly to the rules of the FNAF universe).

-Mod Bright

ps: i. would like to credit this image if possible, since i don’t think the person who submitted this owns this character (if the ‘not mine ;)))’ is anything to go by. i don’t usually have a lot of luck with reverse image searches, though, so if anyone wants to take a crack at it please do!! i’ll edit this post with the artist when i find them.

Thank you, and have a wonderful 2020!

#2 much neon #Mod Bright #Review #submission

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kennasnowwrites-blog · 6 years

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The Wedding Series Part 1: Love is a Rollercoaster (Sean x Mc)

Word count: 2,460

Parings: Sean x Mc (Taylor)

Rating: Nothing but fluff (some alcohol mentioned)

Summary: After leaving the island, Sean and Taylor decide to official wed, even after their hand fasting ceremony. And it’s officially wedding day! With the help of Diego and Quinn, the couple gets ready to meet each other down the isle.

Author’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BB!!!!! Aka Sean Gayle! So I decided to write this little three part series in his honor! We’re just going to ignore the fact that there was no option for MC to go back with the entire gang, okay? Anyway, the first part is just Sean and Taylor getting ready, the second part is the actual ceremony and party, and the third and final part is a little (aka A LOT) NSFW. You can 100% read the first two parts without reading the third so if you’re uncomfortable with it don’t worry! You can still enjoy the first two parts! Part two will go out on Tuesday at the same time as part one and Part three will go out on Wednesday at the same time too so we can just celebrate Sean��s birthday all week! I hope y’all enjoy!

“It’s wedding day!” Quinn yelled as she entered Taylor’s bedroom with Diego in tow. The two of them jumped up onto her bed and bounced around, ready to wake up the bride.

Taylor rolled over and groaned as she threw the covers over herself. “Five more minutes!”

“Nope! Time to get up sleeping beauty!” Diego shouted as he grabbed a pillow and threw it on top of Taylor’s head. “It’s the best day of your life! We have to get going!”

Quinn and Diego laughed as they flopped down next to Taylor on the bed, her body sandwiched in between her two best friends. She groaned as Diego yanked the covers off of her face and she was forced to open her eyes. She looked at the two of them and they smiled back. She couldn’t help but smile with them and erupt with a series of giggles.

“I’m getting married today!” She squealed as she sat up in bed.

“Hell yeah you are!” Quinn said as she sat up as well and hugged Taylor tightly. “It’s going to be the best day ever!”

“Okay, hair and makeup are going to be here in an hour,” Diego informed them. “And Michelle, Grace, Zahra, and Estela are going to be here soon so it’s going to be bridesmaid central. Taylor, I want you to get showered and in a bathrobe before hair and makeup get here. Quinn and I are going to go get champagne from downstairs for the mimosas and we’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir,” Taylor giggled as Diego dragged Quinn out of the bed and gave Taylor a side eye to tell her to get ready.

She sighed to herself and couldn’t help but smile when the door shut and she was left by herself for a little while. After the gang was able to escape the island, Taylor and Sean finished school before they both decided they wanted to really tie the knot and celebrate with Sean’s family and the rest of their friends. It felt right for them to forget about the trauma of the island and celebrate their love for each other. Without Taylor’s realization, Sean had decided to purpose to her again, this time with a gorgeous ring after a lovely—and rather fancy—dinner and a walk on the beach. Of course the entire world knew about it within a few days because of Sean’s overnight fame after he went pro as soon as he graduated college. But neither of them minded, and they both agreed to have a small, intimate wedding.

After months of planning and doing all sort of couplely wedding stuff, they had their entire perfect day planned out. When Taylor tried to talk about the honeymoon, Sean refused to have her plan it. He told her he wanted to surprise her with something special and romantic. She tried to help, she really did, but he refused for her to get involved and told her to focus on only the wedding and nothing else.

Taylor rolled out of bed and rubbed at her face before she headed to the bathroom and unplugged her phone on the way there. She removed her retainers and shut the door before she began to play an upbeat playlist on her phone. She started the shower and waited for it to heat up but her phone gave off a ping and she glanced at it as she removed her shirt.

Happy wedding day! The text from Sean read. I know it’s just been ten hours since I last saw you but I miss you like crazy! You’re a much better roommate than Craig… never been more grateful that you don’t snore. I love you, gorgeous! Can’t wait to see you walk down the isle in a few hours!

Taylor smiled to herself as she typed a reply back. Oh boy, hopefully you got some sleep. I can’t wait to see you either, my love! Happy wedding day! Love and miss you so much, bug!

She set her phone down as the text sent with a whoosh. She climbed into the shower and washed her hair and her body as she sang to herself. She heard the hotel door open and close with a click and few familiar voices on the other side of the bathroom door. She quickly finished her shower before she shut the water off and let the steam hit her body as she climbed out and wrapped herself in a towel. She put her hair up in a messy bun with an elastic and patted herself dry before she got into a robe and left the bathroom.

Quinn and Diego were on the other side with a bottle of champagne and some orange juice for their mimosas. They carried several glasses and set them down on the nearby desk. Michelle, Grace, Estela, and Zahra stood with them, their faces makeup less and ready for the day. There was a weird vibe in the air. Not a negative one, but an excited and happy one. They all turned to look at Taylor as she exited the bathroom and they hurried over to hug her tight.

“Happy wedding day!” Grace squealed, she pulled Taylor into a tight hug before Michelle hugged her next.

“Thank you guys for coming,” Taylor replied before she hugged Estela and Zahra. “I’m so happy you all agreed to be my bridesmaids.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Estela said as Quinn handed out the drinks to everyone. “We’ve been by each other’s sides through everything. Of course we’d be apart of your wedding.”

Taylor smiled at them all, a drink got thrusted into her hand and they all clinked their glasses together before they took big gulps. Taylor felt the cool bubbles dance in her mouth before she swallowed half of the contents down. The orange juice left a nice sweet and tangy feeling in her mouth and she was ready for the rest of the day.

They turned up the music and Diego proceed to start the coffee machine for anyone who needed the extra bit of caffeine for the long day ahead. The seven of them danced around the room and Taylor casually threw a pillow in Michelle’s direction as they sang and waited for the hair and makeup people to arrive.

A short while later, the crew for hair and makeup arrived and Quinn welcomed them in. They quickly set up and the music still played in the background. All the girls got comfortable in seats as they chatted with one another and they began to have a makeup transformation. Diego excused himself from the room and headed toward the elevator and went down a floor to where Sean and the other boys were getting ready.

He knocked loudly on the door before he entered, rap music played through out the suite and the smell of beer filled the room. Sean and Craig stood in the bathroom with dress pants on and Sean stood shirtless with some shaving cream on his face, a razor in his hand. Craig tapped on his phone as he typed an email to a client, he let them know he was going to be unavailable for the rest of the weekend. Raj, Aleister, and Jake were also in the suite, they stood as they fixed their bowties and their dress pants. Both Raj and Jake had a beer next to them that wasn’t their first nor would it be their last.

“How’s it going in here, gentlemen?” Diego asked as he sipped from his mimosa.

“Sean’s freaking out,” Craig blurted out without a glance up from his phone. Sean glared at him in the mirror.

“It’s just pre-wedding nerves,” he told Diego as he lifted his chin up and glided the razor down his face. “I’m just… anxious is all.”

“I would be too if I were you,” Diego said. “I may be gay but we all know you’re literally about to tie the knot with the most beautiful women, and the smartest women, in the entire world.”

Sean chuckled as he cleaned off his razor. “I’m pretty lucky to have her.”

“Other than that, any hiccups?” Diego asked and Sean shook his head.

“Oh but before you go,” he moved passed Diego and out of the bathroom to the nightstand. He presented Diego with an envelope with Taylor’s name written on it. “Can you give this to Taylor for me?”

“You got it,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to head back upstairs but if you guys need anything you know where to find me.”

Diego left the room and closed the door behind him before he headed back upstairs and walked into the suite with all the bridesmaids. The room was full of chatter and laughter as he entered. Everyone was engaged in some sort of lovely conversation and it looked like Taylor was on her second round of mimosas. Her hair was being put up into large curlers, while her face became a blank canvas for makeup. Diego nudged Taylor before the makeup artist got a chance to being to powder her face. She looked at the letter in his hand and she nearly fell out of her seat with excitement. She handed her glass to Diego and he gave her the letter in exchange.

Her eyes read over the page and she kept herself from crying, she didn’t want to ruin the foundation that lay on her face. She sighed happily as she set it down and took the glass from Diego’s hands. Everyone in the room looked at her after she finished reading the letter. “I’m not going to tell you guys what the letter said.”

“Boo,” Quinn said as she shut her eyes before eye shadow got swept over her lids. “None of us have an exciting love life like you.”

“Sorry,” Taylor laughed. “I guess I just picked the best person in the world to marry.”

The conversation turned light again as they continued to get ready. Diego ran around the hotel between the two rooms to make sure everyone was in order for the day. He helped Jake with his bowtie and made sure Raj’s pants weren’t wrinkled. He then got a text from Sean’s mother, she told him she was downstairs with Sean’s brother and she wanted to see both of them before the wedding began. Diego hurried down to the lobby and greeted Tricia.

“It’s great to see you again, Diego,” Tricia said as she embraced him. “This is Sean’s younger brother, Elijah.”

“Nice to meet you,” the young college student said as he shook Diego’s hand. He was slightly skinner than Sean and slightly shorter but Diego could see the resemblance between the two.

“You too,” Diego said with a smile. “We can go see Sean and the boys first and then I’m sure Taylor will be ready by the time we’re done talking with Sean.”

Diego led them to the elevator and proceed to make small talk. He asked things like how their flight was and how long they would be in town. The elevator zipped up to Sean’s floor as they continued to chitchat and he led them to Sean’s room. He knocked on the door before he entered and the entire entourage turned to see who was at the door. Sean stood in the middle of the room with a clean-shaven face, a light pink bow tie, a classic black wedding suit, and a light pink peony in his pocket. He fixed his cuff link as his mother and brother entered the room. Tricia gasped and held her hand over her mouth as she walked toward him, tears threatened to run down her eyes already.

“Mama!” Sean exclaimed as he walked over to her and hugged her tight. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as she hugged him back.

“Look at my baby boy,” she said before she took a step back and help on tight to his forearms to get a good look at him. “You’re just a breath of fresh air.”

“Thank you, mama,” Sean said as she kissed him on the cheek. He looked up to see Elijah and his face lit up again. He walked over and clasped his hand before they patted each other on the back. “Looking spiffy, little bro.”

“I’m really just trying to outshine you on your wedding day,” he joked. Sean laughed as she gave him a light punch on the arm.

“Sorry, E, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Okay, sorry to break up this little family reunion,” Diego said as he glanced at the time on his phone. “But we have to leave for the venue in about thirty minutes and if you want to see Taylor before the ceremony, we’re going to have to go now.”

Sean said one last goodbye to his mom and brother before Diego brought them upstairs. He knocked on the door and entered right as the bridesmaids began to put on the final touches of Taylor’s dress. Michelle, Quinn, Estela, Zahra, and Grace wore matching light pink dresses that brushed the floor and hid their white shoes. The straps were thick and had a boat shaped collar. Their hair and makeup was done perfectly and matched the aesthetic of the outdoor spring wedding. Taylor wore a simple white dress with a plunging neckline and lacey short sleeves. Her dress didn’t cling to her body but also showed off her figure without it being too sexy. She had on tall white heels and rose gold jewelry. Her makeup was simple yet also glittery and made her stand out from the rest of the bridesmaids.

Tricia let out another gasp as Quinn placed the veil on Taylor’s head and slipped it in her beachy half up and half down hair. Taylor turned and smiled warmly at Tricia. She walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

“Look at you,” Tricia said as she looked Taylor up and down after she gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sean is one lucky man.”

“Thank you, Tricia,” Taylor laughed. She turned toward Elijah and he complimented her as he hugged her close.

“Okay people,” Diego said. “We have to get going if we want to make it to the venue on time. The boys should already be in their limo so we won’t risk the bride and groom seeing each other. But let’s get this show on the road!”

“I’m getting married, bitches!” Taylor nearly yelled as the entire group walked out of the hotel room and into the hall, ready for a night to remember.

#kenna writes #endless summer #es gang #sean x mc #sean gayle #playchoices #long post

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margiehasson · 4 years

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The Believer is Balanced Between Hope & Fear – 5 Steps to Better Mental Health

Caring for our mental health by balancing clinical advice with a spiritual approach is at the core of how Dr. Rania Awaad approaches counseling and good mental health and well being. One should not exist without the other, especially in helping people who lean on their faith, she says.

Dr. Awaad is a Clinical Associate Professor of Psychiatry at Stanford University, She is also the Clinical Director of the Bay Area branch of the Khalil Center in California, a spiritual wellness and Muslim counseling center that applies Islamic spiritual healing methods to modern clinical psychology. Her life's work has been in this area, and she recently spoke with Melanie in our third Haute Hijab halaqa this part Ramadan about how the believer is balanced between hope and fear.

Dr. Rania Awaad

Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, anxiety has been on the rise for many people, says Dr. Awaad. "Why do we have anxiety right now? Where is this fear coming from? There's a dimension of the fear of the unknown. We know people who are sick, who are dying. Then add to that that many of us are caretakers. What's going to happen to our loved ones, especially those who are more at risk than others?

"[Also], so many of us as Muslims have been carrying communal trauma from all the difficulties we face," she says. Sheltering-in-place these past several months, coupled with the brutal murders of Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, has ratcheted up fear, worry and anxiety.

"And then a pandemic breaks out and you're quarantined with family, who maybe you get along with" and maybe they're toxic to you, says Dr. Awaad, asking the question so many of us continue to struggle with: How do we deal with it all?

"People often go straight to faith, and it makes sense, because you're holding on to it." she says. In the midst of the sheer overwhelming nature of this pandemic, may people are realizing that they need to hold on to something bigger than themselves. "It makes sense why people immediately go to faith."

But, says Dr. Awaad, "The hadith of the Prophet makes sense – you have to tie your camel and then rely on Allah. And what that tying of camel looks like right now is that hopefully you'e taking measures to reduce the unhealthy, extra anxieties in your life."

She outlines five steps to help find balance between hope and fear in managing one's mental health:

1. Make sure that you're talking those who you trust. If you don't have people you trust, this may be the time to seek out a therapist or a professional. (You don't want to bottle up until you explode.) The flip of that coin is listening. We need to be listening, advises Dr. Awaad, especially in listening to our children and elders. No one is really checking in with them.

2. Make sure that we're not being overstimulated by news. Being constantly plugged in is harmful.

3. Institute healthy practices. This means taking time for yourself to get better health-wise and physically. You should pay attention to your diet, make sure you're eating well and exercising. Focus on growing spiritually as well. This is part of the self care. Women especially don't take the time to do this, says Dr. Awaad. "We are giving, giving, giving until we are empty. We need to take the time to [focus on] our [own] spiritual growth."

4. Be actionable. This helpful to adults and kids - to do things for someone else. Take your anxiety and put it towards the service of someone else, and that helps you to feel in control.

5. If all these things don't help your anxiety enough, then it's probably time to talk to a professional. And, don't let the fear and/or stigma of seeking mental health help stop you.

I encourage you to check out the entirety of Dr. Awaad's halaqa with Melanie. She gives many concrete examples of how to implement the five steps as well as drawing from Islamic traditions and history to punctuate how important it is that we tend to our mental health. Below the video is a list of mental health resources Dr. Awaad talks about in the halaqa.

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Resources for Mental Health

1. The Khalil Center: IG/Twitter @khalilcenter | website | in-person sessions happening in California, New York, Illinois

2. COVID-19/Wellness: COVID video from Khalil Center | All Khalil Center wellness videos

3. New Islamic psychology book coming out this July, co-edited by Dr Awaad

4. Academic resrouces: Stanford Muslim Mental Health Lab

Spiritual Resources

1. The Rahmah Foundation, which features weekly women's halaqas and year-round programs | Instagram @therahmahfoundation | Twitter @TheRahmahFound

2. Dr. Awaad's spiritual wellness video list

3. Women's itikaaf (spiritual seclusion) that you can do at home

4. Dr. Awaad's Islamic meditation/contemplation video to be released very soon by the Yaqeen Institute.

The Believer is Balanced Between Hope & Fear – 5 Steps to Better Mental Health published first on https://lenacharms.tumblr.com/

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recommendedlisten · 5 years

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We started off the week by basking in the glow of Oso Oso’s highly recommended new album, and ended it with getting swept up in Taylor Swift’s loving, lavender latte. Along the way, there were some really great and weird excellent detours. Loud noise rock denizens Lightning Bolt are back, and shredding through the heat with their own form of air conditioning. Kim Gordon is finally taking the leap into her first proper solo album, and its preliminary sketch was for sure the mark of an artist who continues breaking new ground in sound. Noise’s next gen in NYC’s Weeping Icon released content unfiltered of its ugly truth while respective rap and pop-rock experimentalists Vince Staples and the 1975 raised a raucous with their new moves. Being weird is a good thing, though. and there’s more of it to listen in on.

Here’s the best of the rest from the week of August 18th, 2019…

Chromatics - “I Want to Be Alone” [Italians Do It Better]

The status of Dear Tommy, the long-delayed new album from Chromatics? Who knows. The last time we got any kind update from the spectral synth-pop band was when they were laying the groundwork for their first North American tour in forever this past spring and threw listeners a new piece of the puzzle to fascinate over with the song “Time Ride”. Eight months later, Johnny Jewel and company have erased most evidence o Dear Tommy from the Internet’s fingerprints, and instead just covered Jackson C. Frank’s “I Want to Be Alone (Dialogue)” without any background context to it. The listen, however, does stand on its own legs for the mere fact that after several potential album cuts which heard the Portland outfit stepping forth from the shadows and bending prism light in their sound, this stark, acoustic ballad led by Ruth Radelet’s vapory chanteuse work adds a new layer of mystery to what comes next for Chromatics, in whichever shape it inevitably, if ever, arrives.

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DIIV - “Taker” [Captured Tracks]

DIIV introduced their third album Deceiver, set for release on October 4th, a few weeks back with a loud, crackling rumination surrounding Zachary Cole Smith’s rocky road to rehabilitation from addiction entitled “Skin Game”. Smith has admitted that while the Brooklyn dream-pop band’s 2015 sophomore effort Is the Is the Are attempted to do just that, it did so by smooth patching over its complexities prematurely, if even unintentionally lacking sincerity. In taking in the album’s latest preview "“Taker”, it’s apparent that Smith isn’t hiding from his own ugliness in the face of a self-destructive lifestyle, as the listen assesses the damage left in its wake in others crossing his path. “Who were you to believe? / Your lying eyes or me? / I won't let them tie to you / The shit I put you through,” his voice, hollow and weightless, smears through the burning ash. If there’s a new found sense of clarity found within DIIV’s soundscape, perhaps some hard perspective is to credit...

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Great Grandpa - “Mono No Aware” [Double Double Whammy]

Being frank, Great Grandpa, didn’t really stand out in a scene filled with sound-a-likes with their 2017 debut Plastic Cough. It was fuzzy, feedback-driven indie alt-rock revivalism indebted to the ‘90s, which isn’t to say it was a bad album or a boring album. It just lacked an identity to call their own. There were reasons for that, though, and in this intriguing recommended read written by Nina Corcoran over at Stereogum, we get insight into the Seattle-bred band’s history, chemistry and evolution. It has ultimately led to a creative leap in their sophomore follow-up Four of Arrows, due out on October 25th. The album’s first listen “Mono No Aware” is a promising departure away from past static, and instead makes greater intention to dig up the past, sift through it, and process the emotions in the now. “Do you feel the same thing that I do?,” Alex Menne asks in its chorus, after passing over old memories, traumas and moments that feel both on the surface and fading away in the same thought. Here, it’s really a case of how you say something that gives Great Grandpa a path.

Four of Arrows by Great Grandpa

Lana Del Rey - “Fuck It I Love You” / “The Greatest” [Interscope Records]

Norman Fucking Rockwell, the sixth studio effort from Lana Del Rey, has been a long time coming, with its album cycle rollout beginning a whole year ago with its excellent single and one of the year’s best songs overall, “Venice Bitch”. Del Rey has since taken a few creative detours along the way with non-album singles, but its latest coupling of previews in “Fuck It I Love You” and “The Greatest” remind us that the music and Lana Del Rey want to offer are nothing but the real thing, and we’re going to have a lot to unload when it drops in full on August 30th. As with “Venice Bitch”, the coupling of Del Rey and producer Jack Antonoff’s sharpening of her sad, horny gaze are arguably the most fully realized projections of her energy to date. The former hushes her lust over a woozy buzz of California dreamin’, while the latter is a soft alt-rock symphony for the end times that sounds like a funeral part for anyone existing in the now. “The culture is lit, and I had a ball,” she sings.

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Missy Elliott - “Throw It Back” [Atlantic Records]

MTV finally got the hint to honor music, performance and visual innovator Missy Elliott with this years Video Vanguard Award at this year’s VMAs, and while the accolade will make for a watchable moment come next week, it brings with it Elliott’s first non-single release in 14 years with her Iconology EP. The collection of four songs (five if you count the acapella version of its closer) does a lot to remind listeners familiar and unfamiliar with her long resume of her skills, especially in that of its lead single “Throw It Back”. In it, we get a Missy history lesson (Mis-tory lesson?) over a cool drip beat co-produced by Timbaland and Wili Hendrix from the woman herself, with bars precisely directed at the next gen of rappers. “I raised all these babies, call me Katherine Jackson / Please don't steal my style / I might cuss you out / What you doin' now, I did for a while,” delivers one of Elliott’s coup de grâce. The listen comes with a playfully bonkers music video featuring Teyana Taylor where Missy’s braided hair doubles as double-dutch ropes and she becomes her own moon person.

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#the best of the rest #chromatics #great grandpa #diiv #lana del rey #missy elliott #new music & videos

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fathersonholygore · 6 years

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Incident in a Ghostland. 2018. Directed & Written by Pascal Laugier. Starring Crystal Reed, Mylène Farmer, Anastasia Phillips, Emilia Jones, Taylor Hickson, Kevin Power, Rob Archer, Paul Titley, & Adam Hurtig. 5656 Films/Inferno Pictures Inc./Logical Pictures Not Rated. 91 minutes. Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller

★★★★ Father Gore’s been a fan of Pascal Laugier for years, since first seeing his 2004 feature debut House of Voices, a spooky little flick with a creepy location and a chilling atmosphere. After that, he took the world by storm with Martyrs— maybe the most unflinching horror movie in recent memory. Although his next effort, The Tall Man, wasn’t as great as its predecessor, it was a unique horror-thriller with lots of twists. Now, in 2018, Laugier returns with Incident in a Ghostland— a story equal parts visceral terror and surreal psychological horror. The story involves two girls who, along with their mother, are attacked in their new home by a couple of psychopaths. Years later, one daughter who left must return when her sister calls in a frenzy, only to uncover dark secrets. The story and plot feel typical at times, from the description alone this movie could be any number of random horror flicks. But Laugier’s new movie is frightening at times, tense and riddled with suspense, plus it’s got a lot to say about trauma, as well as the various ways in which storytelling functions as a means of both escape and survival. Several reviews out there have criticised Incident in a Ghostland as being misogynistic, when it’s actually critical of misogyny in horror rather than playing a part in perpetuating the genre’s problems. Sometimes you have to dig deeper.

Part of why Father Gore finds it flabbergasting anybody would say this movie is misogynistic is because it’s easy to see Laugier was at least trying to critique misogyny, particularly in the horror genre. His use of dolls is hit-you-over-the-head symbolism, yet it’s as if people have ignored it. The doll’s long been an image associated with the infantilisation of women. The house sisters Beth and Vera move into with their mother, inherited from their aunt, is full of dolls. We see the Ogre violently play with them, just as he does real girls. The Candy Truck Woman creepily tells Beth and Vera: “We just wanna play with dolls.” Because a doll is an inanimate, obedient thing someone can physically manipulate and to which they can do whatever they want. Until it breaks. The doll represents the misogynist’s ideal woman: no fighting, no talking, no complaining. Also significant that, not long after getting to the house with all its dolls, Beth’s menstrual cycle starts for the first time. She’s suddenly becoming a woman. Where does that fit in? Well, the transition from girlhood to womanhood is of great significance when we tie it to the dolls and the killers. Part of facing life, as a woman, is realising men are horrific. Father Gore knows it, and he’s a man! In terms of Incident in a Ghostland, confronting the misogyny – more often than not violent – of men is necessary for Beth to fully cross the threshold from girl to woman. Vera takes the brunt of the men and their violence because she’s already technically a woman— a little older than her sister. Beth has to go through a much more gruelling psychological process than a physical one before she can come to terms with the cruelty of men. During one of Beth’s stories of the future, she’s confronted by her mother telling her not to go back to reality: “The world is an ugly place to be, honey.” Earlier on in reality her mother laments ever having to let boys near her daughters. The reality of men is never far from these women. Beth dissociates to escape the harsh realities of misogyny through her stories, though, sooner than later, she has to realise there is no life after it— just as we see in the multitudes of men killing men in the horror genre, life and fiction are mired in misogyny. When Beth finally accepts this, she’s able to move on from being a young girl stuck in that big house, like a doll locked in a cage. Storytelling has always been a way of confronting fears and difficult truths. No coincidence Laugier chose to use the construct of Beth as a horror writer to drive surreal aspects of the plot. As a girl she loves writing stories. Then, as the killers attack, she dreams up a life built on stories to avoid trauma. In her mind, Beth becomes a bestselling horror author. She uses the trauma of her family’s past as fuel for her latest book. This is all a way to escape or survive. Such is the essence of storytelling: the stories we tell ourselves can be a way to keep us going, to make us keep fighting, or they can be a way for us to escape the world and ignore the fight. Stories we tell ourselves sometimes mask those important, albeit difficult truths. One of which is, men are cruel and violent animals, specifically towards women. Beth uses stories to escape at first, refusing to see two psychopathic men have irreparably altered her life by murdering her mother + abusing her and her sister. Eventually she reconciles the hard truths and comes back to reality, using the stories she’s told herself to give her strength. Like another nail on the head, Laugier has Beth literally use her typewriter to do some bloody bashing— a perfectly symbolic weapon, figurative and literal, to subdue and control horror. In the end, there’s also a wonderful message about the power of fiction. It’s often considered nerdy to love literature, more so to actually write it. Again, that idea of the stories we tell ourselves serving a function comes back. It isn’t hard to see how even the darkest minds can be indicative of strength, of survival, of power. As Beth is carted away by an ambulance she’s asked what sports she plays because she seems tough like an athlete. She replies with a smile proudly: “I like to write stories.” Incident in a Ghostland, like good literature, can be read in different ways. It’s totally fine to enjoy Laugier’s movie as a good ole slasher-style horror, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre meets a haunted house romp. It absolutely works that way, too. It’s equally fine to read deeper into the themes and its surrealism, as Laugier touches on the power(s) of storytelling, using horror to critically engage with issues facing women, in reality and within the genre itself. It’s easy to say “There’s no backstory to these killers.” It’s easier to look at the killers and see their blank slates as commentary about the faceless nature of misogyny— it comes in all shapes, genders, and sizes! The use of a familiar trope here becomes part of the movie’s overall themes. There are things that could’ve been better developed. Although, for the most part, Incident in a Ghostland hits many excellent notes. Regardless if you choose to just watch the movie and take a ride, or if you do a closer reading of its thematic interests, Laugier gives horror fans an entertaining spectacle. If it’s not every horror lover’s cup of tea, many can at least agree it tries to be different with its premise. Even if everyone else hated it, Father Gore finds Laugier a fantastic storytelling talent in the genre. Here’s to more of his terror in the future.

INCIDENT IN A GHOSTLAND: Storytelling’s Power + Misogynistic Realities Incident in a Ghostland. 2018. Directed & Written by Pascal Laugier. Starring Crystal Reed, Mylène Farmer, Anastasia Phillips, Emilia Jones, Taylor Hickson, Kevin Power, Rob Archer, Paul Titley, & Adam Hurtig.

#Childhood #Dissociation #Incident in a Ghostland #Infantilised Women #Menstrual Cycle #Misogyny #Pascal Laugier #Reclaiming Narratives #Storytelling #Surrealism #Trauma

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