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tarditardi · 8 months

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30/09 TRYM, Head2Head fanno muovere a tempo Bolgia - Bergamo

Sabato 30 settembre 2023 al Bolgia, top club a Bergamo, arriva il top dj producer francese TRYM, artista in forte ascesa nel panorama elettronico mondiale, per quella che è una nuova imperdibile notte della stagione autunno - inverno 2023/4 del Bolgia. Ad affiancarlo, nella Main Room del top club sulla'A4, c'è il duo Head2Head.

Francese, TRYM fa all'anagrafe Martin Lermurier. Si inventa ogni notte un viaggio musicale nuovo, fatto di sonorità hard dance e hard trance. Oltre 300mila follower su Instagram, un interessante merchandising (tra magliette e vinili) legato al suo progetto come artista e alla sua etichetta COLOR, spicca grazie al suo stile potente, melodico, colorato e fa ballare il mondo da tempo. Succede con brani come "It's Better When We Fake It", concentrato di energia e melodia, o nel potente remix per "Now or Never" di Martin Solveig. Il 5 ottobre, dopo il Bolgia, fa scatenare Brunch Electronik Lisboa #10, al Tapada da Ajuda di Lisbona. Con lui, in Main Room, ecco Head2Head, protagonisti della scena techno con le loro sperimentazioni. Chiudono il cerchio WM e Rea K.

Non è tutto. La festa elettronica continua in Garden Room con Noize Suppressor. Al Bolgia racconta la storia del suono hardcore italiano in un un 'history set' di ben 2 ore. In console ci sono anche: Andy The Core, Jappo, Night Shift, Meccan Twins, alla voce Mc Coral. Per finire, nella Alternative Room, ecco un 'extended set' di Juri Carrera.

L'appuntamento di sabato 30 settembre 2023 al Bolgia è solo l'ennesimo appuntamento importante nel top club sull'A4. Tra gli altri, sul palco del Bolgia, si sono esibiti di recente top dj come Tita Lau, Luca Agnelli, Chris Liebing, Len Fake e molti altri artisti attivi in tutto il mondo, tra cui Sam Paganini, Indira Paganotto, I HATE MODELS, 999999999, KLANGKUENSTLER, Alignment, RBX, Marika Rossail e Charlie Sparks.

30/09 TRYM, Head2Head @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Bolgia - Bergamo

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

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djs-party-edm-italia · 8 months

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30/09 TRYM, Head2Head fanno muovere a tempo Bolgia - Bergamo

30/09 TRYM, Head2Head @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Bolgia - Bergamo

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

0 notes

sounds-right · 8 months

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30/09 TRYM, Head2Head @ Bolgia - Bergamo

Bolgia - Bergamo

via Vaccarezza 9, Osio Sopra (Bergamo) A4: Dalmine

info: 338 3624803, dalle 23.30 alle 6 del mattino

0 notes

beamgreys · 2 years

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Magix photostory 10 deluxe

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ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years

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Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she’s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

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renaultportugal · 5 years

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Renault Floride/Caravelle: 60 anos a espalhar charme!

Romântico ou sexy? Simpático ou charmoso? Cortês ou delicado? Aos 60 anos, o Renault Floride, que também se chamou Caravelle, nada tem a provar. Dono de um estilo único e de uma elegância inconfundível, o descapotável que seduziu Brigitte Bardot e Grace Kelly marcou uma época, como hoje ainda marca quem com ele se depare. Afinal, sempre são seis décadas a arrancar suspiros!

Se ainda não sorriu hoje, provavelmente, é porque ainda não viu nenhum Renault Floride! Não era publicidade da época, mas poderia sê-lo. Há 60 anos, o Renault Floride encantava pela genuína graciosidade, leveza de espírito e desconcertante jovialidade. Evocava ao tempo livre, à liberdade de movimentos e de pensamento, como símbolo de modernismo de uma época áurea em fortes motivações e convicções, bem retratada, de resto, na história do nascimento deste belo automóvel…

Do falso arranque…

E tudo começou em 1957. Nesse ano, a Renault tentava impor do outro lado do Atlântico outro modelo, o Dauphine, mas em franca competição com o Volkswagen Cox (o popular “Carocha”) e com uma rede de distribuição pouco eficiente, os resultados ficavam aquém do previsto. Ciente da importância do mercado automóvel norte-americano, Pierre Dreyfus (então diretor da Renault), lançou o desafio de criação de um automóvel totalmente novo e diferente, capaz de atrair clientes jovens, com forte sentido de evasão e vontade de explorar o “outro lado da vida”, que só um cabriolet podia proporcionar.

Sem gabinete de marketing ou estudos encomendados, foi durante uma viagem à Flórida (EUA) que surgiu o nome do novo “embaixador da liberdade” da Renault: o Floride! Contudo, só em outubro de 1958, o novo modelo se mostrou ao público, após um “falso arranque” no Salão de Genebra desse ano, onde foi apresentado em dois stands diferentes e rivais, como resultado da disputa de paternidade no design da sua carroçaria por dois estilistas italianos contratados pela Renault (um dos quais, entretanto, ingressado na concorrente Ghia).

… Ao sucesso garantido!

Desfeito o “equívoco”, acabou por ser o Salão Automóvel de Paris de outubro de 1958 a acolher a verdadeira estreia do Floride que, em maio de 1959, passou a integrar o catálogo de modelos da Renault e… não apenas como cabriolet! Na verdade, a elegante carroçaria, desenvolvida a partir do Dauphine, também ganhou uma versão de capota rígida (“hard top”) e outra coupé. No fundo, três maneiras diferentes de apelar ao sorriso!

Apesar de ter como base o Dauphine, não é fácil encontrar semelhanças entre os dois “best-sellers” da Renault. Já reconhecer elegância ao Floride é um exercício tão natural como a própria beleza do cabriolet/coupé, cujas linhas fluídas transmitiam a sensação dinâmica de movimento, tão apropriada para explorar a “bela vida” no cabriolet, como o carácter desportivo no coupé.

Já no interior, as semelhanças com o habitáculo do Dauphine são maiores, com o painel de instrumentos a ser herdado do pequeno sedan, bem como as formas minimalistas em voga naquela época. Com a configuração 2+2, o espaço para os dois ocupantes da frente era generoso e atrás duas pessoas também podiam viajar com um mínimo de conforto, se bem que o espaço de 175 litros disponível atrás dos bancos dianteiros podia igualmente ser bem aproveitado para aumentar a capacidade da bagageira, localizada à frente, que ascendia aos 240 litros.

Motor com “alma” Gordini

Equipado com transmissão traseira e motor longitudinal também traseiro, o Floride não era perfeito em termos de distribuição de massas. Mas o seu propulsor Ventoux, um clássico 4 cilindros de 845 cm₃, herdado do Dauphine Gordini, oferecia 40 “simpáticos” cavalos de potência às 5.200 rpm com a ajuda de um carburador Solex.

Com uma caixa manual de três velocidades (onde a primeira não era sincronizada), um sistema de travagem simples mas eficiente com a ação de tambores sobre as quatro rodas e uma suspensão inovadora e confortável, designada por “Aérostable”, o Floride era francamente agradável de conduzir, convidando a passeios e escapadelas fora da cidade, mas também se expressando de forma alegre e ágil nos centros urbanos em crescimento.

Evolução bem-sucedida

Entre 1962 e 1965, o “automóvel-prazer” da Renault sofreu várias evoluções, que o foram tornando cada vez mais popular, mas com ajustes mínimos na carroçaria, visíveis, de resto, na na perda das tomadas de ar laterais da carroçaria. Pelo contrário e ao nível do motor, os up grades foram notórios e contribuíram, decididamente, para uma maior vitalidade na estrada, primeiro com a adoção do conhecido propulsor “Cléon-Fonte” de 956 cm₃ já com 51 cv, depois e a partir de 1963, com a integração do motor que equipava o Renault 8 Major, um 1108 cm₃ que debitava 55 cv, e, finalmente, com a evolução deste bloco, já com carburador de duplo corpo integrado, que oferecia 57,5 cv (sim, na altura, os meios cavalos eram importantes!).

Como resultado de todas estas evoluções, o Floride/Caravelle passou de uma velocidade máxima inicial de 125 km/h para uma de 145 km/h, melhor controlada, já nos últimos anos de produção, pela caixa de 3 velocidades totalmente sincronizadas e pelos travões de disco à frente, uma novidade na época. A mudança também se repercutiu nas designações do modelo, cuja evolução ditou que se chamasse “Floride S” (na versão cabriolet) e “Caravelle” (primeiro apenas na versão coupé e depois em ambas as versões), numa nomenclatura que já tinha sido adoptada do outro lado do Atlântico, em homenagem ao avião de construção francesa.

Brigitte Bardot e Grace Kelly como “embaixadoras”

Para além das envolventes características inatas do Renault Floride/Caravelle, uma parte do seu sucesso também está ligado à imagem da atriz Brigitte Bardot e da princesa do Mónaco, Grace Kelly, que, direta ou indiretamente, entraram na história do modelo, que ajudou à afirmação da mulher nos anos 60.

No primeiro caso, a “sex-symbol” da década de 60, recebeu um Floride de cor “Kilimanjaro Branco” em agosto de 1959, que a Renault mandou entregar em Nice (França), quando a atriz filmava “Want to dance with me”. E bastou uma sedutora sessão de fotos com o cabriolet para que o Floride passasse a ser visto como um automóvel de emancipação para a mulher da década de 60 e um desejo secreto (e concretizável) para muitas delas, que nunca sequer tinham aspirado a ter um automóvel.

De mesma forma, a Renault também fez chegar um outro Floride, mas na versão Coupé e pintado de “Verde Bornéo”, ao palácio da princesa Grace do Mónaco. A princesa e também atriz, não se coibiu de o utilizar nas deslocações na sua vida quotidiana, emprestando ao Floride ainda mais glamour e contribuindo para que o sucesso mediático e comercial do modelo fosse ainda maior.

Após uma exemplar carreira de 10 anos, que terminou em 1968 com a produção de 117.039 exemplares em 22 cores diferentes, o Floride/Caravelle manteve, e continua a manter, um “charme” muito peculiar que faz dele um dos automóveis de coleção mais apreciados e desejados. Decididamente, 60 anos depois, o tempo está longe de ofuscar o seu fascínio!

#renault #história

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lega94r · 5 years

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Edizione speciale di TantaNews-fine 1° campionato 2019

Tanta Basten vince il campionato Sliding Doors.

Era una mattina di fine ottobre quando a Viareggio arrivò una telefonata agli orecchi del Mister Monteleone: “Wir werden am Nachmittag nicht ankommen. Aber nach dem Abendessen. Brechen Sie nicht meine Eier”.

Per quel poco che Paolo fischiettava del tedesco, aveva capito che:

doveva rimanere su Viareggio, per aspettare gli ospiti del suo bed & breakfast;

non poteva partecipare al mercato fantacalcio quella sera.

Paolo chiamò immediatamente Nicola Di Grazia per dirgli di:

fargli il mercato per la sua squadra.

comprargli Ronaldo a 228. Fu mandato immediatamente dove non batte il sole. In quella sede, senza eleganti parafrasi.

Fu quella prima telefonata del crucco che cambiò tutto il campionato.

Perché un Drugo presente al mercato avrebbe comprato Ronaldo, Quagliarella e Immobile, quella stessa sera.

Si è invece generato un campionato alternativo, che ha visto vincere il Tanta Basten: uno scherzo del destino, visto che Mister Di Grazia non segue una partita di calcio da anni e se gli chiedete chi sia Mandžukić, pensa che abbiate pronunciato male una nota marca di carne in scatola.

Nel vero campionato, sarebbe stato un trionfo di Sticazzi, con i bomber Piatek, Insigne, Zapata e Caputo, seguito a ruota da Drugo Usa.

Nel vero campionato Bindocci avrebbe continuato a scrivere la Fantagazzetta, perché motivato dall’incedere della sua armata, arrivando alla fine terza.

Ma purtroppo ci troviamo a commentare il campionato alternativo, che identifichiamo come campionato “Sliding doors”. Giustamente in questo, è nata un espressione simbolo: tutto a monte.

Dinamo Pam: grande apertura nello Sliding Doors

Tutti pensavano che era il campionato di Pier Dario: alla prima giornata fece il massimo di punti in una singola partita (89,5) devastando un frastornato iBudelli. Poi, però, ci sono stati passi falsi. Scivoloni sull’olio (rigorosamente Bardahl).

Può aver distratto il nostro Prof. il cinema, più del solito. Per quello qualche volta ha lasciato in panca quello della carne in scatola mentre segnava.

“Un pesce di nome Wanda”: un film che l’allenatore cinefilo ha visto realizzarsi nel suo spogliatoio a discapito del Maurito preferito. Nel campionato vero invece, Icardi sarebbe stato capocannoniere al pari di Edera, con tripletta contro la Juve.

Sticazzi: quando ci si perde in se stessi.

Nel vero campionato Mr Cannavacciuolo avrebbe dato spettacolo, non professato lamento alcuno contro arbitri, cabala, invasioni di cavallette. Avrebbe sopratutto mandato la formazione con regolarità. Cosa che invece non è avvenuta nello Sliding Doors: con un reparto difensivo da provinciale, lo Sticazzi non ha quasi mai usufruito del bonus difesa.

Il Mr ha talento, ma deve incanalarlo meglio nel prossimo campionato, non perdendosi in cazzate (sappiamo che è difficile chiedere questo ad una squadra con quel nome) e acerrime critiche juventine.

Tante Seghe: giovane valore Italiano.

L’Italia ha bisogno di giovani con mordente. Tante seghe è entrato nella Lega 94R con i colleghi che sogghignavano. Perché tutti sanno che un primo campionato è difficile: regole ancora da capire, malizie da sdoganare, ecc. Eppure Lorenzo Bindocci ha fatto il campionato Sliding Doors, con valore. Addirittura classificandosi prima del padre, che puntava sull’autorità per mandarlo a letto ai ferventi mercati in chat del venerdì notte. L’unica formazione che ha dominato sul campo la scudettata Tanta Basten, con 4 pere in casa.

Si è dimostrato anche promettente giornalista, ricordando le struggenti pagine del “Piccolo scrivano fiorentino”, sostituendosi al lavoro del padre.

iBudelli: chiuso nelle porte scorrevoli.

Un’altro giovane della Lega94R. Dentro le sliding dooors gli ci è rimasto un braccio, che ha presentato rotto e al collo nell’ultima cena, al Gabbiano. Per adesso, abbiamo decisamente scoperto che i Budelli è una gran forchetta al ristorante. Anche lui paga l’inesperienza del primo campionato, non comprendendo a pieno come sia importante consegnare la formazione SEMPRE. Nello spogliatoio del Selen Stadium ci cresce infatti da settimane il muschio. Il Mister non ci mette più piede, continua a tenere in rosa Benatia o altri zombie in pantaloncini corti.

Nel vero campionato, sarebbe arrivato quinto. Forza Lorenzo: andrà meglio il prossimo imminente campionato.

Drugo Usa: la formichina tattica.

Peccato che Paolo non abbia compreso la frase finale del tedesco al telefono, in quell’ottobre. Avrebbe risposto per le rime e sarebbe venuto al mercato. Invece così, si è trovato con una squadra di scarti. Il suo carattere da formichina sagace è comunque venuto fuori: Paolo non demordeva, ogni venerdì sera era nella chat per prendere il meglio del peggio, al calcio mercato infra settimana. É con questa tenacia che vinse in passato più di un campionato.

Frustrato comunque, dalle basse posizioni in classifica, nello “Sliding Doors” Paolo ha dato più attenzione alla “Signora” di Torino. Apice di questo, la foto alla principessa di famiglia, in campo con la maglia di CR7. Bell’episodio… anche se poi per mesi ha massacrato gli attributi di tutta la Lega, con questo evento. GB Master lo ha pure bannato da Instagram e Snapchat.

Drugo è la bestia nera della scudettata Tanta Basten: ha sempre portato a casa i 3 punti. Complimenti.

Armata Rossa: l’entusiasmo senza costanza

“Dovremo quindi aumentare i turni anche di notte!” - concluse davanti ai suoi increduli sottoposti il capo reparto Soffas, in una piovosa giornata invernale. Bindocci tentò di opporsi: mobilitò tutti i sindacati immaginabili CIGL, CISL, GIG (Robot) e ASTRO GANGA. Ma non ci fu niente da fare: un buyer tedesco aveva domandato una produzione stratosferica, che andava soddisfatta con il personale attuale. Era l’effetto Sliding Doors: caso volesse che il teutonico ospite nel sopracitato bed & breakfast Viareggino, fosse responsabile commerciale della Lidl Germania. E, durante il suo soggiorno, apprezzò particolarmente l’operazione igienizzante dello sfintere posteriore, grazie alla carta lucchese.

Bindocci senior si è ritrovato così a fare l’imboscato nelle aste di mercato il venerdì notte, in turni non previsti. Si è proposto inizialmente come apprezzato giornalista con la sua Fantagazzetta, ma poi, perso l’entusiasmo (innescato da 4 gol infilati a Dario, in casa Dinamo), l’ha resa in un fuoco di paglia. Chiediamo più continuità in futuro, rimandato a settembre.

GB Master: secondo classificato con 35 punti.

Leale avversario della capolista, GB Master ha omesso la zampata vincente: avrebbe infatti infilato una poderosa sequenza di 7 vittorie consecutive, se non avesse perso 3 a 0 contro i partenopei del torneo, alla quindicesima giornata. Lo scudetto l’ha perso li!

Infastidito dalla scurrilità di certi nomi di squadre della Lega 94R, anche per questo GB è simbolo della classica Lucca bene. Non sappiamo chi sia al vero comando della squadra, se il padre o il figlio, comunque la coppia ricorda il buon feeling tra Cesare e Paolo Maldini.

Atletico Pisda: lo spettacolo polemico

Balducci si smarca come il Mr polemico. Riconosciamo che la polemica a volte è la scintilla che introduce il cambiamento. Ed in questo Mr Di Grazia appoggerà sempre Baldao. Ma ci si è spesso appellati ad un regolamento ingiusto, solo quando la classifica del Pisda era avversa. Oppure invettive contro l’app Fantapazz, per la troppa pubblicità, durante l’uso.

Unica squadra ad aver segnato 5 gol in una unica partita, Pisda è comunque una compagine da calcio spettacolo. Ma con forte discontinuità. Ha chiudo il campionato con fuochi pirotecnici (3 gol), ma alla fine in penultima posizione. Come è possibile?

Gli abbonati VIP alla fine hanno contestato: chiedono meno effetti speciali e più concretezza. Che tradotto in un linguaggio comprensibile ai tifosi di curva sarebbe: “meno filmini hard core e più sano esercizio fisico orizzontale”.

A grande richiesta di tutti gli altri allenatori, lo sponsor della squadra dal prossimo campionato sarà Pay Pal.

Sturm di Graz: 75 punti a partita di media.

Se pur Lorenzo ha decisamente la squadra più forte sulla carta, l’aver scordato la formazione alla penultima giornata, ha fatto imbestialire la tifoseria, già delusa dall’aver perso entrambe gli scontri diretti con il Tanta Basten. É così arrivato terzo, nonostante la vittoria a fanta punti.

Noto per mandare vocali da 4-5 minuti su Whatsapp, che nessuno ascolta, Mr Lorenzo è poco ascoltato anche nello spogliatoio: pare sia Ronaldo che decida chi vada in campo, se Belotti o Gervinho o Schick. Se risolverà questi problemi di comunicazione, sarà sicuramente il prossimo scudettato.

Tanta Basten: 36 punti, la regolarità premia.

Dopo una vittoria nel 2000 con TantaDada, Di Grazia torna a dominare un campionato, ma con finale un pò sofferto. Mr. Di Grazia è salito in testa alla classifica dalla seconda giornata e ci è comunque rimasto fino alla fine.

Ha vinto con la difesa (maestosi Nkoulou e Alex Sandro) e con la regolarità: sempre la formazione consegnata, sempre attivo al mercato infra settimana. Tanta Basten ha avuto anche una discreta fortuna. Ma si sa… la fortuna aiuta gli audaci e chi non si perde d’animo: quando a metà campionato gli hanno venduto il miglior centrocampista, al Barcellona, e per 2 infortuni ad Immobile durante la stagione. Curato con l’acqua delle fontane di Lucca, Ciro è comunque riuscito a segnare 13 gol. Senza l’effetto Sliding Doors, la società Italo-Olandese sarebbe arrivata ultima. Grazie Paolo, dunque!

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prapostarfichas · 6 years

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She Got Horns Like The Devil

Nome Completo: Hebe Rhodes | na mitologia grega, é a deusa da juventude, filha legítima de Zeus e Hera. Por ter o privilégio da eterna juventude, representava a donzela consagrada aos trabalhos domésticos.

Apelido: Hebe cresceu com os gêmeos Stark, ela definitivamente é a garota com mais apelidos na face da terra. Entretanto, o predominante seria Garotinha, por sempre ter sido tratada como a garota da família, até mesmo por Pepper, considerando que não tem uma filha menina e passou boa tarde de seu tempo em sua casa. Ela odeia o apelido, pois todos sabem que ela odeia o significado de segurança. E gostaria de ter mais autonomia, não de ser a eterna princesa da família.

Idade & Data de Nascimento: Nasceu no dia vinte e seis de julho. A garota tem dezessete anos de idade.

Nacionalidade: Nasceu na Califórnia, em San Diego. Nos Estados Unidos da América. A garota nasceu neste determinado lugar por conta de um desejo de sua mãe.

Gênero: Feminino

Sexualidade: Heterossexual

Photoplayer: Leigh Anne Pinnock

Aparência: A garota tem pele negra, Entretanto, todos os seus traços são tremendamente finos, como os de sua mãe. Lábios finos e nariz fino. As suas sombrancelhas são bem desenhadas, e seus olhos tem íris negras brilhantes. O seu corpo tem curvas belas em todos os "lugares certos" como Sebastian sempre diz a garota.

História: Seu pai era um grande amigo de Tony Stark, e isso marcou sua vida antes mesmo dela começar. Sua mãe, Mercedes, queria que sua filha nascesse onde a mesma nasceu, por isso, passou sua ultima semana de gravidez na Califórnia, de férias com o marido, algo que Tony conseguiu para a família. A garotinha foi batizada como Hebe, apadrinhada por Pepper & Tony Stark, por toda a sua vida a mesma teve tudo oque queria, entretanto, superprotegida. Hebe passou sua infância com os gêmeos, assim como passa até os dias de hoje. Uma curiosidade sobre a mesma é que aos sete anos de idade foi miss América Mirin. A garota sempre teve o sonho de seguir os passos do pai, e por mais que ele sempre tenha tido consciência de que ela poderia ser ótima nisso, ele sempre a reteu para a manter segura. Entretanto, sua amizade com Sebastian sempre teve como foco fazer o outro feliz, por isso o rapaz prometeu a ela que faria-lhe uma ele mesmo um dia. Sua vida foi baseada em ter praticamente tudo oque queria, ser privada entretanto de seu maior sonho, sofrer com a pressão estética que sua mãe colocou sobre a mesma, e estar presente em cada momento dos gêmeos.

" ─ Thomas e Sebastian foram sequestrados." Definitivamente essa frase ainda assombra os pensamentos de Hebe. Os seus melhores amigos passaram três dias sequestrados & nunca ficaram sabendo que Hebe sequer comeu neles. Ou saiu de sua cama. Foi um período assustador para as famílias por este outro motivo. Se fosse o fim da linha dos Stark, seria o fim da linha de Rhodes.

Aos quinze anos muito em sua vida aconteceu. Hebe sofreu com anorexia e bulimia por sete meses onde esteve em um centro de recuperação. qRecebia visitas do pai, dos padrinhos e melhores amigos com muita frequência. Todavia, sua mãe nunca apareceu. E por mais que a mesma sempre tenha cobrado muito de sua filha, a rótulou como "fresca" ao saber que sua filha vomitava após comer. A mesma só esteve 100% recuperada aos dezesseis anos, quando atingiu um peso normal novamente. E , nesta idade, Sebastian cumpriu sua promessa, como uma recompensa.

"─ Eu disse que faria!"Foi oque ele disse ao lhe mostrar a buster branca, da cor favorita da menina. "─ Meu pai me disse pra colocar para-quedas. Alguma coisa como 'se você não puder a pegar, alguém vai' mas eu duvido que você cairia. Não faz seu estilo" Deste então, o foco da garota é aprender a manusear perfeitamente a sua "máquina"

Personalidade:

ᴀ garota é extremamente atrevida, quando acredita que algo deve ser dito, podem ter certeza de que ela falará. Nao faz o tipo de pessoa que guarda as coisas para si, qualquer tipo de sentimento é colocado para fora, entretanto, ela armazena um. O senso de humor da mesma é muito fácil de ser agradado, ela ri de qualquer coisa considerável engraçada. Assim como sempre tem uma resposta irônica e atrevida na ponta da língua. Afinal, alguém que fez um "duelo de ofensas" com os Stark por toda a sua vida deveria saber como "zoar" alguém. O sarcasmo faz basicamente parte de todo o seu ser, assim como as piadas de mal gosto que faz, principalmente dar "foras".

"Eu gosto do meu café como gosto de mim mesma, escuro, amargo & muito quente para você"

Hebe precisa ser livre, por ser uma pessoa muito imprudente & corajosa ela tende a se colocar em muitas situações que poderiam facilmente ser evitadas se ela ao menos soubesse como manter a boca fechada. Thomas e Sebastian perderam as contas de quantos escandalos a garota se meteu em baladas. "Rhodes, você realmente sabe como se divertir" - Thomas | Hebe é enérgica, está sempre com um copo em sua mão, principalmente em festas. Sendo a pessoa que mais as agita, ela não gosta de se envolver em brigas mas muitas vezes não consegue sair das mesmas quando entra. Tem a fixação em ter a última palavra, e isso se deve ao seu enorme orgulho, algo que supreendentemente não a impede de pedir perdão no dia seguinte.

Ao contrário do que se imagina quando se encontra a garota em festas até tarde da noite, Hebe é alto ditada. Foi aceita em todas as faculdades em que se inscreveu, onde agora procura por se decidir oque pretende fazer, os horizontes estão abertos para relações internacionais, advocacia, medicina & econômia. A garota tem cursos particulares finalizados em todos esses campos. E não se podem esquecer do fator de falar mais de sete línguas [latim arcaico, espanhol, francês, italiano, grego, português de Portugal & russo] além de sua língua nativa.

Qualidades:

Defeitos:

Gostos:

Desgostos

Manias & Vícios:

Desde sempre, Hebe teve a mania de dançar pela casa quando estava sozinha. E isso é algo que ela faz até hoje. Tem a mania de cutucar as bochechas de Sebastian quando o mesmo está jogando e de desenhar círculos quando está entediada.

Medos | Traumas | Fobias:

Teve anorexia e bulimia por meses, mas até hoje, raramente, Hebe vômita após comer propositalmente. Mas absolutamente ninguém sabe disso. A garota tem como maior medo que perca algum dos gêmeos Stark algum dia.

Hobbies: Seu hobbie não é considerávelmente normal, mas Hebe gosta de estudar história, filosofia & línguas. E quando não se sente no humor correto para tal coisa, Hebe faz compras.

Habilidades: Além de ser autodidata a mesma é uma ótima atiradora, foi treianda por seu pai & e fala sete línguas fluentemente.

Família:

■Celeste Rhodes: Definitivamente não é uma mulher compreensiva, é exigente e isso sempre pesou mais sobre sua filha. Entretanto, é muito gentil com todos que conhece a cortesia apenas não se estende a Hebe. Mãe | 47 anos

□ James Rhodes: Hebe é a filhinha de papai, sempre foi mimada pelo mesmo. Todo o carinho que não recebeu de sua mãe foi dado por James quatro vezes mais. Ela sofreu muito com seu desaparecimento. Pai | 50 anos

Hard Carry, Hey!

Codinome: Sassy | Apenas os Stark e seus amigos mais próximos usam o codinome. Por incrível que pareça, a maioria usa seu nome.

Poderes: Hebe não tem nenhum, além de sua Buster & mira.

Como e quando descobriu os poderes: ✗

Teria problemas em expor sua verdadeira identidade para o mundo? Se sim, por quê? assim como seus amigos mais íntimos, ela é aberta quanto ao assunto, por isso, ela não mantém sua verdadeira identidade secreta. Pelo contrário.

Uniforme: Seu uniforme é idêntico ao de seu pai, Entretanto, tem funções a mais e uma tonalidade mais clara. Um fato curioso é que os pés dela não alcançam o chão no traje.

O que pensa dos antigos Vingadores da Justiça? Ela tem muito orgulho em saber que seu pai fez parte de um projeto como este e agora se sente mais honrada ainda em saber que faz parte deste projeto. Acredita que eles ensinaram valores e que foram importantes para a sociedade de mil e uma formas. Assim como foram uma base de sua criação.

You're perfectly perfect

Quer par? Sim!

Eu escolho ou você escolhe? Você escolhe, por mais que eu tenha preferência pelo seu personagem, Sebastian Stark.

Relação com Par: Ela tem muita insegurança em relação a relacionamentos, por isso demoraria para ceder seus sentimentos. Todavia, é determinada o suficiente para saber que quando estiver com o par nunca o deixaria ir. Tem a cobrança de reciprocidade, afinal, se ela pretende desistir de sair todos os fins de semana, o rapaz em questão deveria desistir de passar o dia inteiro fazendo algo que ela odeia, ou não está com vontade de fazer.

Está ciente que os pares podem terminar ou demorar a se relacionar? Sim.

Im know exactly what and who i want

.Alexander Thatcher: Hebe não gosta de regras e por isso está constantemente brigando com Alex, afinal, ela se quer o conhece e deveria deixar que ele tome as rédeas de sua vida após perder os pais? Simplesmente não consegue se conformar com ele.

Sebastian Stark: Bash é como sua alma gêmea, ela conversa com o mesmo sobre tudo. Mostra músicas novas para ele sempre que tem a oportunidade, os dois podem ir a uma balada juntos ou passar a tarde vendo filmes e lendo, é como se nem mesmo tivessem que falar para conversar. Hebe tem muito ciúmes dos gêmeos, mas é muito maior quando se trata de Sebastian, a jovem nunca soube por que ser tão importante para ela que Sebastian estivesse por perto. Mas ele foi a pessoa que mais a visitou quando esteve na reabilitação. Stark é um pedaço muito grande de si.

Thomas Stark: É uma das pessoas que ela mais ama. TomTom esteve ali para ela durante toda a sua vida, um verdadeiro irmão mais velho. A tirava de encrencas e era o ombro a qual Hebe podia chorar avontade. Sempre foi a psssoa que a aconselhava quando brigava com sua mãe.

Christian Banner: Tem uma relação boa com o mesmo, geralmente está com ele se o garoto tenta fazer algum experimento ou algo semelhante, mesmo que ela sempre atrapalhe ao invés de ajudar.

Devan Banner: Ela o acha adorável, mas raramente conversa com Devan, apenas não sabe o que dizer ao mesmo. Por mais que as vezes tente manter uma conversa, nunca dá certo.

Astrid Odinson: Ela se vê em Astrid, por isso é comum ver a garota conversando com a mesma e lhe presenteando. Hebe gostaria de ser uma parte ativa em sua vida, afinal, nem todos são sortudos ao ponto de terem dois gêmeos para sempre cuidar de si.

Helena Wayne: Hebe não se deu bem com a mesma, as mesmas trocam farpas a todo o tempo, e isso faz com que os seus acompanhantes fiquem ligeiramente irritados. Principalmente quando tem que impedir da briga crescer para algo "perigoso"

Richie Xavier: Sendo a pessoa sociável que é, a garota tentou se aproximar as vezes, mas quando percebeu que ele obviamente não queria proximidade, ela deixou o garoto em paz. Ela não entende oque ele acha que conseguir sozinho, mas respeita.

I Have Questions

Está ciente que após enviar a ficha seu personagem estará em minhas mãos? Sim

Estão cientes que poderão ter cenas para maiores de dezoito anos, desde violência até sexo? Sim

Algo a mais? Hebe gostaria de morar na praia no futuro, ou próxima da mesma.

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foreverloading608 · 3 years

Text

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c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader · 6 years

Text

Rules: Bold the words/phrases you prefer. You can tag whoever you want to get to know better.

Tagged by @159potterhead 😉 U da best

Summer or Winter My two least favorite seasons lol

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Formal or causal

Pen or pencil For all the mistakes I makes.

Jet or ship I've never been on either, but flying is a dream of mine.

High school or college

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Now, I shall bestow the royal tag upon...

@thomas-newtie-gangster and @i-want-it-that-way

May the Force be with you.

2 notes · View notes

foxtiny240 · 3 years

Text

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