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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi ) & val ( @shoutodoki ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut

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bluefirewrites · 4 years

Note

Hc - Luke gets in trouble at school and forced to join the drama club latest production and try out , where he ends up getting the lead along with Julie (who they know of each other through there moms friendship. But the more they spend time together even outside school the more they fall for each other. And finally get together (sorry for the rambling sometimes have trouble writing what i want to say )

I had this whole response typed out before my computer crashed and it got lost in the void.

I’m gonna mince some details just in case it happens again, but I love this concept.

Luke’s a bad boy on campus. It’s hard to get him engaged in anything school-related, but the teachers just know that he’s got untapped potential, especially Ms. Harrison, the theater teacher.

The band is on Luke’s mind all day every day. And he gets in trouble at school a lot because of it- borrowing the instruments from the music room for a quick jam session, pasting their gig posters over Carrie Wilson’s student body president ones, parking their band van in the teacher’s lot (it’s a lot closer!).

But Luke’s latest scheme lands him in hot water with the principal.

He thought it was a great idea to hijack lunchtime and turn it into an impromptu Sunset Curve concert. He and the boys hid on the stage over looking the cafeteria and they even bribed the sound tech to help them out.

And in the middle of lunch, they burst through the curtains and started jamming out for everyone.

And Luke may have gotten carried away.

He may have jumped onto the nearest lunch table, treating it like his own personal runway, hopping and skipping over people’s lunches.

He may have miscalculated the space and so when he slid into a power stance, he may have spilled orange juice onto some poor girl’s homework.

He didn’t have time to apologize to the fuming girl before he’s up and running, inciting the now crowd of students into a riot with his music.

Let’s just say that tables were tipped over, food was everywhere, and Principal Lessa was not happy.

It was a success in Luke’s eyes.

But then Lessa pulls him into the office and oddly enough, for Luke, Ms. Harrison is present. That’s where they give him the ultimatum: they suspend him and the boys for their little stunt, or they have to audition/ partake in Ms. Harrison’s spring musical.

And Luke bawks at the idea. Because they’re a rock band! They don’t do show tunes!

But he takes the deal, mainly so his parents don’t get any more pissed at him.

The boys all show up to auditions, and apart from Alex, the rest of them aren’t super into it.

He sits down in the auditorium, waiting of his turn, when he notices the next person up for audition- Julie Molina.

He sorta knows her. Their moms are in book club together. When she auditions, Luke notices two things- 1) her voice is killer and 2) the script she’s holding is stained with orange juice.

Whoops.

She hops down the stage and catches his eye and she glares at him. And given the round of applause and Ms. Harrisons’s praise- Julie Molina seems to be the queen of the theater department. And Luke managed to have pissed her off.

Great...

Then he goes up to audition, all ready to half-ass it because really doesn’t want to be a part of the play. So when it’s his turn, Luke doesn’t take it seriously- he purposefully flubs the words, he doesn’t act from the script- instead reciting a monologue from the Simpsons that made everyone, but Julie, laugh.

Ms. Harrison only nods, and notifies him that the cast list would be put up at the end of the day.

Luke, thinking he tanked it, doesn’t bother to stop in front of the cast list posted like everyone else does at the end of the school day. But when he tries to pass, everyone’s eyes are on him, including his friends’.

“Um... Luke,” Alex says from his spot in front of the bulletin board, “You might wanna see this,”

He pushes past the crowd until he can read the cast list.

Oh no.

He made the lead.

Luke’s confused. He thought he put on the worst audition ever?

“Congratulations,” he hears from beside him and he sees Julie, arms crossed, not the least bit happy.

And that’s when he reads the rest of the cast list- Julie’s the other lead.

They’re going to be love interests.

When it’s time for rehearsals, it’s an utter disaster. Luke’s never been in any production ever, so being part of a team, that’s not just him and the boys, is throwing him off.

He can sing yeah- but he dancing? Acting? Not his forte. And Julie knows this, and gets so frustrated with him whenever they rehearse a scene together.

But when it comes time to the duet- oddly enough, they sound great together. Amazing even. Luke wants to say that ever since hearing how their voices complimented each other’s, Julie eases up on him a little.

Some weeks go by, and slowly but surely, Luke and the boys are warming up to theater culture. Alex, Reggie, and Bobby seem to be having a good time learning their parts and making new friends with the cast and crew, and pretty soon Luke and Julie form a tentative truce.

One day, Luke closes his locker and gets spooked by Julie leaning beside him.

“Hey,”

“Hi?” They don’t talk during school. Only at rehearsal. So this is new.

“How much of the songs have you memorized?” Okay, right down to it, Luke thinks. But it’s Julie- theater is her life.

“All of them, don’t worry,”

“And your lines?”

“...”

“I thought so. You called my character by Kayla’s character’s name. Do you even know what this play is about?”

“Of course I do,”

“We’ll see about that,” Julie then scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to him, “My place. After school. We will be running lines,”

Luke starts going to Julie’s almost every other day to go through lines, and also because he needs all the help he can get when it comes to acting.

Some days are good, others- well, are left to be desired, but Luke tries to get Julie to loosen up and he coaxes her into taking breaks and going out to eat during their one-on-one sessions. And he starts to find himself actually enjoying her company, and she with him- even if she’s reluctant to admit it.

But over time, Luke starts to get a schedule down, now invested in the musical, he makes sure he gets to school on time, gets through his classes, rehearse, and days when he’s not rehearsing- he’s with Julie, working on their stuff.

Luke’s mom notices a change in him, and even though it’s more music stuff that he seems to be getting up to, she doesn’t mind. And when Luke sees that his mom smiles every time he mentions that he’s off to see Julie, he knows their moms have definitely been talking to each other.

When he would get to the Molina’s, he would pass Rose, greet her, and say that he’s going to be running lines with Julie.

“Right,”

“We are,” he insists, one time, after catching Rose smirking.

“It’s just, I’ve been in theater myself when I was younger. I know what ‘running lines’ mean,”

And to say that Luke shows up blushing to the garage where Julie was waiting was an understatement.

But as much as Luke and Julie are killing it in their performances, there’s one part that trips Luke up.

There’s a scene where their two characters confess their love for each other, following a group musical number, but Luke can’t get into it.

He throws the script in frustration at the couch, “This is hopeless.”

“No, you’re doing good. It’s just missing something,” Julie says, pulling him closer to her, “You’re reading the lines. You’re not saying them,”

“What does that mean?”

“You need to channel the character. His thoughts and feelings in the moment, and you embody that. You show the audience that,”

“So what do I need to do?”

“You need to look like you’re in love with me, okay?”

“Okay,”

They run it a couple of times before they do it at rehearsal the next day. And after he and Julie go over their love confession, Luke inwardly curses himself because he couldn’t focus and he was worried he messed up in front of everyone during such an intimate scene.

But once he concluded, Julie is looking up at him with an expression he’s never seen before, in surprised awe, and he could see a faint blush on her cheeks. And she ends up stammering into her part- something the Julie Molina never did.

Everyone in the production applauds them- Reggie, Alex, and Bobby look at Luke, wide-eyed.

Flynn comes up to them to show them the footage she captured of their rehearsal and Luke is stunned to see that his acting isn’t as terrible as he thought. In that moment, he really looked like he was in love with Julie as he said his lines.

And then it hit him.

The reason he couldn’t focus is because he had been too busy staring into Julie’s beautiful brown eyes, relishing the touch of her warm hand in his- and he didn’t even try to act, he said the lines as he normally would if he was talking.

He didn’t look like he was in love with Julie.

He was in love with Julie.

It gets awkward between them since then, and they haven’t been able to recapture that same spark as their previous performance. And now that they have gotten their parts down, there’s no need for Luke to keep visiting Julie any more, and they only see each other at rehearsals.

And then it comes- opening night.

They run through it without a hitch earlier before and everyone’s all excited for how it’s gonna play out.

Luke sees his parents out in the audience, chilling with the Molinas, and he stomachs his nerves before walking out and to perform.

The production is successful, only minor mishaps occur (aka Reggie’s props keep falling apart, so he had to make due with invisible ones for the time being).

And then it comes to the finale, the big scene. Luke goes in and delivers his lines, staring into Julie’s eyes and tries to channel the same feelings as before.

But when it’s Julie’s turn, she starts ad-libbing. She says her lines, but then she’s throwing in references that certainly aren’t relevant within the time period in which the musical takes place (”when you gave me your last strawberry for my frozen yogurt... I knew... I knew you were the one for me”), it makes the audience laugh but the heart was still there.

Luke’s confused until he realizes. It’s not Julie’s character confessing her feelings for Luke’s anymore.

It’s Julie confessing her feelings for Luke. Right there on stage. In front of everyone.

She went off-script for him...

After curtain call, and everyone is riding that post-opening night high, Luke catches Julie before she could go meet her family out in the hallway.

“Hey,”

“Hi,”

Luke pulls out his script, “Run it with me one last time?”

“Luke, what-”

“Humor me, please,”

Julie scans the script he hands to her. He’s circled their love confession scene, and when she reaches the bottom of the page, her eye catches a new, messily scribbled in stage direction.

“’And they kiss...” Julie reads, a smile slowly growing on her face, “...hopefully??”

They both laugh at the latter words, and Luke looks at her sheepishly.

“I mean... if it’s in the script, we gotta do it, right?”

“You’re such a dork,” Julie says before pulling him in for a kiss.

They pull away, and Luke has the audacity to smirk, “I believe this is what you call a ‘showmance’,”

Julie quirks an eyebrow at the new vocabulary, “Someone’s been paying attention.”

“I’ve learned a few things,” He nuzzles her nose against hers, “I had a pretty good teacher.”

“I have plenty more to teach you,”

“Oh really?”

“Like, for instance, how the warp party at Denny’s is a must,” She takes him by the hand and leads him out of the theater, giggling “Come on!”

They dash through the hallways until they come up on their friends and family, who were proud of their performances. Luke looks up from hugging his mom in time to see Ms. Harrison grinning at him and giving him a thumbs up.

‘Thank you,’ he mouths to the teacher.

Maybe theater wasn’t that bad of an idea after all...

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #palina #julie molina #luke patterson #theater kids!#i wasn't one so forgive me #idk how often y'all rehearse #i assume a lot #and i heard the denny's thing once #is this true?#blue answers asks

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Volcanic Love (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 6045

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on my other Taywhora oneshot, it made me so happy. Enjoy this one, too - fully a product of Taywhora beginning to occupy my thoughts with no signs of leaving. Title from Volcanic Love by The Aces. Also thank you Writ for betaing and bouncing ideas with me, and Pop for catching any North American slang that may have sneaked in, I appreciate you both ❤️

Tayce isn’t a chicken.

It doesn’t matter what Tia’s said in the past. She’s never had the balls to flirt with Veronica, anyway, she’s the real chicken.

Tayce is just respectful, that’s it. She’s not about to go hit on her best mate in the club, not when they’re going back to the same flat, not when A’whora’s eyes right now are on everyone but her.

Doesn’t matter, anyway. Tayce is here for drinks and to forget about her shitty work week.

Even if A’whora’s talking to a leggy brunette by the barstools. And giggling. And tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Christ.

A tap on Tayce’s arm makes her jump, and Lawrence is looking at her a tad impatiently, gesturing towards the waiting bartender on the other side of the table.

“What d’you want, then? Can’t wait all night while you stare at your woman.”

“She’s not my woman,” Tayce mutters under her breath, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. “Two tequila shots, please and thank you.”

Lawrence raises her eyebrows. “Two already? You that ready to end up with your head in the toilet tonight, are you?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Tayce peeks over again while the bartender prepares their drinks and A’whora’s whispering something into the brunette’s ear, leaning in close to her. Tayce grabs the table just a little bit harder.

She knows that Bimini’s organized this night out for them so that Tayce can finally get her shit together. They’re out far too often as it is, despite graduating uni and beginning adult jobs and working normal hours, but regardless, this evening has a purpose. Not that Tayce wants it to. Her liking for A’whora is clear as day to everyone except for A’whora herself, and part of Tayce wants it to stay that way.

Why ruin it, anyway? They’re friends, best friends at that, and A’whora cares for her and knows all her secrets and is the most important person in the world. Or rather, she knows all of Tayce’s secrets except how much she fancies her.

Tayce clinks her shot glass with Lawrence’s whiskey before she tosses it back, the salt and lime on her tongue straight after enough to start a fresh fire through her veins. Maybe it’s not going to happen, tonight, or ever. Tayce is fine with that, especially when she’s on a night out with her mates and Little Mix is blaring in the DJ’s mix overhead.

That’s all she needs for a good night out.

Ellie pushes through the crowd to reach them, a head taller than everyone else. “Did you get my vodka cran?”

“Course,” Lawrence grins, handing the glass to her. “Even though we both know it tastes like horseshit. You gotta branch out your options, El.”

“Just like you ordering a whiskey every night out like the wee old man you are?” Ellie sticks out her tongue without missing a beat, and Tayce snorts when Lawrence lifts a mock offended hand to her chest.

“Excuse me for having some pride for the homeland. Not about to let the English win around here.” Lawrence tosses her drink back, and the slight wince on her face is just about noticeable.

“Looks divine,” Tayce deadpans, craning her neck towards where A’whora had been standing.

Except she’s not there anymore, and she’s not in the crowd of people either, and-

“She’s coming up behind you, dafty,” Lawrence snickers, and Tayce hardly has a second to retort before a set of arms wraps around her waist.

“Did you miss me?” A’whora’s voice takes on the sing song quality that it always does when she’s a few drinks in, and Tayce has to ignore the way her stomach feels like it’s filling with butterflies.

Because it’s not.

“Kept yourself busy over there, did you?” Tayce gets out, trying her best not to let the bitterness peek through in her voice.

A’whora’s allowed to flirt with whoever she wants. It’s fine, really.

“I love meeting new people, that’s all,” A’whora grins, reaching across Tayce to flag the bartender, “unlike you, you antisocial creature.”

“Lies. I have enough friends already,” Tayce mumbles as A’whora pulls back, the scent of her perfume making Tayce’s breath hitch in her throat.

She needs her second shot.

Tayce tosses it back as A’whora takes a sip of her rum and coke, and the burn of the liquor at the back of her throat isn’t enough to distract her from the way that A’whora wraps her lips around the straw, all round and delicate as not to smudge her lip gloss.

“You’d be a lot less grumpy if you moved away from the bar, y’know,” A’whora says in between sips. “Maybe danced around a bit or something. No more sulking on nights out like you normally do.”

“She really does sulk, doesn’t she?” Lawrence pipes up, another whiskey in hand, and Tayce can’t help but roll her eyes at the pointed tone in her voice.

Lawrence wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit her in the head.

“Come on. We’re all gonna go dance. No more sulking.”

A’whora grabs her hand, and Tayce starts to panic for a second because she’s sure she’s a little bit clammy, but Ellie and Lawrence are following them and maybe Tayce’s brain is running just a little bit too fast for her own good. They end up in the thick of the crowd and it’s sweaty, gross, but it also makes Tayce feel a little nostalgic for uni, when they’d do this too often and end up hungover for class the next afternoon.

The Rihanna that the mix fades into is enough to make Tayce forget about the fact that she’s attracted to her best friend, especially when she’s giggling at Ellie’s attempt to embody the song with her lip-syncing. She joins in at the chorus, and fuck it, there’s nothing on par with screaming out the words to Bitch Better Have My Money with her mates, especially with Lawrence’s rather unmelodic tones.

She does love them.

“Let me squeeze in!”

Bimini’s voice is loud enough to be heard over the music as they pushes themselves in between Lawrence and Ellie, their fur coat miraculously still around their shoulders while balancing a drink in each hand.

“Well there you are!” Lawrence exclaims, and the delight on her face is exactly how Tayce feels, all of her friends together and-

Well, almost all of them. There’s Ellie, and Lawrence, and now Bimini, but where has A’whora gone off to again?

Tayce goes up on her tiptoes, craning her neck because she can’t have gotten that far with the crowds, she has to be near…

Oh.

She’s found a girl to dance up on. Blonde, this time. A lovely sight to see.

The tentative excitement that had been rising in Tayce’s chest bursts like a balloon, the sinking feeling spreading along her insides and pulling her back down to the ground because of course A’whora’s found someone to grind up against and shoot sultry eyes at because she’s good at that, at getting what she wants. It’s fine, it is, because Tayce is having fun watching Lawrence try to rap Taki Taki.

She doesn’t care what A’whora’s doing.

Except that when she peeks over again, A’whora’s crouching down while she dances and she’s got her hands on the girl’s thighs and she’s looking up at her with an expression that can only be described as hungry. And it doesn’t matter that there’s an elbow poking at Tayce’s back, or that the mix overhead weaves in a Beyonce song that she’d normally scream the words to, because right now she’s got tunnel vision, unable to pull her eyes away from A’whora despite the fact that she feels like she’s burning up the longer she does. Despite the ripping in Tayce’s chest and the rushing in her ears, it’s fine, because A’whora’s allowed to do whatever she wants. Tayce is her friend and nothing more, and she’s used to it, she is.

But then A’whora slowly rises up from her crouched position and wraps her arms around the girl’s neck, leaning in to kiss her and Tayce needs to get out of the crowd and off the dance floor.

The club bathroom has suspicious stains on the walls but it’s blissfully empty, a fact that Tayce is thankful for because at least she can lose her mind in private. She doesn’t need anyone else witnessing an absolutely pathetic meltdown over her best friend.

Tayce’s lip colour is smudged when she looks at herself in the dust covered mirror, and she halfheartedly pulls out her lipstick from her clutch to fix it. Not that it matters, when she’ll probably grab a taxi home in a few minutes anyway, because her bed and some sleep will at least help her forget the sight of A’whora practically on her knees.

Once she’s fixed her lipstick, Tayce runs a hand through her hair and lets out a sigh. She’s changed her mind. Going out isn’t so nostalgic anymore. It’s shit.

“You done admiring yourself in the mirror yet?”

“Jesus, fucking-”

Tayce whirls around at the voice and of fucking course A’whora is standing there, her own lipstick a bit smudged and looking too smug for her own good and Tayce hates the way her heart starts to beat just a bit faster.

“Thought you were busy macking on some slag and giving everyone a little front row performance,” Tayce mutters, turning back towards the mirror.

“Oh, so you were watching, then?” A’whora’s voice is positively delighted, and Tayce wants to roll her eyes at the audacity.

“I think people in the nosebleeds could see that even if they didn’t want to. A little careless, no? Nearly shagging on the dance floor?”

Tayce isn’t bitter. She’s not. Not over something this stupid.

“What, are you a nun suddenly preaching chastity and pureness and everything that’s holy? Is that it?” A’whora snickers, not looking fazed in the least as she sidles up to Tayce at the counter.

Tayce scoffs, trying to keep herself from glancing at A’whora in the mirror. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more aware of your surroundings, that’s all.”

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

It’s a lie, a flat out lie but A’whora doesn’t need to know that, not when it highlights how absolutely pathetic Tayce feels for having A’whora fucking notice. A new low for her. She might as well trod home with her tail between her legs at this point, not that it would save her from any embarrassment.

So, she’s going to have to pretend it never even happened.

“I wasn’t, but you did that enough for me,” A’whora murmurs, and Jesus, she’s coming up behind Tayce and looking at her in the mirror with the sultry eyes that are usually reserved for other girls. “I like seeing you all worked up in a tizzy.”

“I’m not worked up,” Tayce breathes out, trying her best to hold on to the semblance of control she has before it smashes into pieces.

“So you wouldn’t mind then, if I went back on the dance floor and found another girl to kiss? You wouldn’t care if I brought someone home and let her have her way with me? You’ll be just fine with that, huh?”

It’s hard to think straight when A’whora’s hands are raking up her sides, when she’s looking at her all smug through the mirror because she knows she’s going to get what she wants, the way she always does.

Maybe Tayce will be weak willed if she gives in. Maybe A’whora’s going to be smug for weeks after, or maybe she’s going to tease her mercilessly because she’s just joking around with her hands at her waist. Except A’whora’s hand is trailing to her ass, and she’s biting her own lip in the mirror and fuck-

She gives in.

Tayce turns around, face to face with A’whora whose eyes widen for just a second before Tayce captures her lips in a biting kiss. The hitch in A’whora’s breath and the way she surges forward is enough evidence that she isn’t joking around.

Good.

Tayce grabs A’whora’s waist and flips their positions, so that she has her up against the counter. It’s funny - she’s thought about kissing A’whora before, too many times for her own good, but a dingy club bathroom with her heart beating out of her chest is not how she’d envisioned it happening.

A’whora’s needy, pawing at Tayce’s waist to try and bring her closer than she already is. Tayce nudges A’whora’s legs apart with her own thigh, trailing a hand up her chest and past her collarbone and neck until she’s cupping her jaw. She pulls back from the kiss and A’whora’s lips are slightly parted as she catches her breath, her eyes alight but a little bit hazy.

“Is this what you’ve wanted all night, then?”

Tayce has to applaud herself for the semblance of calmness in her voice, not betraying the fact that her insides feel like they’re catching on fire, her heart beating faster and faster the longer she’s touching A’whora.

A’whora looks as dazed as Tayce herself feels, her lipstick smudged and her lips parted while she catches her breath. Tayce watches as her eyes flick down to look at her lips then back up again, and she takes a step back because she knows that A’whora’s about to lean in and kiss her again. The whine A’whora lets out is more than gratifying.

“You could have just asked, y’know. Dunno why you’ve got to go and make it so complicated for the both of us,” Tayce murmurs, licking her own lips as she steps in closer again.

It’s as if there’s a string between them that’s been pulled taut all night and on the verge of snapping, except now, Tayce is the one controlling it. And after how she’s been on edge all evening, it’s a welcome reprieve, a familiar feeling that she’s been craving for so long.

“I…” A’whora’s words trail off when Tayce leans forward, pressing a kiss to her neck, and then another that slightly nips at her skin, and it’s all Tayce can do to keep herself from smirking against the corner of her jaw.

Because, of all people, she’s the one having this effect on A’whora. A’whora, who could absolutely be classified as a certified babe magnet. A’whora, who can land any girl that she bloody wants. A’whora, who has been on Tayce’s mind for far too long whenever she slips her hand between her legs in the shower. A’whora, who up until now Tayce has had to push down any semblance of feelings for.

But now Tayce has her in her grasp and it’s verging on the edge of being too much, sending her brain into overdrive if she focuses on it for too long.

So instead, Tayce brings her attention back to A’whora, who gasps when her lips focus on the juncture between her neck and collarbone. There’s no way A’whora’s neck isn’t going to be looking ridiculous after this, between Tayce’s lipstick and the fact that she’s being rather liberal with how much she’s tugging at A’whora’s skin, but A’whora’s hands are fisting in her hair and it’s becoming clear that she’s the type to like it like this.

She brings a hand up to grab one of A’whora’s tits, her thumb tracing over her nipple that’s already beginning to harden through the dress fabric because of course A’whora’s not wearing a bra, cheeky slag she is. The whine that A’whora lets out when Tayce pulls her face back is enough to make her want to squeeze her own legs together but she steels herself, putting on the most confident face she can muster without falling apart.

“More,” A’whora gets out in between sharp breaths for air, and part of Tayce wishes that she could frame this sight, keep it in her mind forever.

Instead, she presses her lips together. “I’m not about to fuck you in the loo, Rory. What sort of slag do you take me for?”

A’whora’s brows press together adorably, and Tayce has to resist the urge to smooth them out for her. “But-”

“Let’s go home.”

They end up in A’whora’s room solely because of the shorter distance from the front door, as compared to Tayce’s at the end of the hallway. Tayce kicks the door closed behind them, watching as A’whora flops herself down on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows.

It’s strange - Tayce has been in A’whora’s room thousands of times before, like when they do their makeup together or watch Netflix while passing a spliff back and forth. But right now, the air in the room feels different, a breeze that makes her hair want to stand on end. Or maybe that’s the effect from the look that A’whora’s shooting her from the bed.

She takes her time as she walks over to the mattress, kicking off her heels once she reaches her. There’s a hair elastic on A’whora’s bedside table and Tayce grabs it, tying her hair into a bun and out of her face before she climbs up on the bed herself, straddling A’whora’s lap in a swift movement.

A’whora’s so pretty like this. Not that she isn’t always, when she’s laughing and her eyes scrunch or when she’s tearing up because of a cute kitten video on Instagram. But there’s something about this sight, when A’whora has her hair spread out on the sheets, her chest rising and falling almost erratically, that Tayce wants to absolutely drink up.

She channels her bravado from the club bathroom as she tucks a lock of A’whora’s hair behind her ear, watching as her eyes flutter. “You getting sleepy on me?”

“Better stop boring me, then,” A’whora squeaks out, and Tayce knows, knows that it’s a bluff, but a small part voice in her brain yells at her to accept it as a challenge.

A’whora wants more? She’ll get more.

Tayce grabs at A’whora’s hipbone and flips her over so that she’s on her stomach, revelling in the gasp that A’whora lets out when her face buries itself in her arms on the mattress. She runs a hand up A’whora’s thigh, over the curve of her ass and can feel a satisfaction blooming in her chest when A’whora pushes back into her touch.

“So impatient, for someone who was a little brat and teasing me all night.”

A’whora lifts her face out of her arms, the pout on her lips so quintessentially her. “Tayce, c’mon.”

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?”

Tayce pushes the edge of A’whora’s dress up, exposing more and more of her thighs and tracing along the soft skin. By the time the skirt is bunched up at her hips and the lace of her thong is exposed, Tayce feels like her mind is going into overdrive. She wants nothing more than to speed up the process and just pull the lace down and make A’whora come as fast as possible, but she forces herself to slow down, enjoy the process. Relish in it.

She tugs upwards on A’whora’s hips until A’whora understands the hint and gets up so that she’s resting on her elbows and knees, ass up in the air. Tayce taps the outside of A’whora’s thigh and she parts her legs, and part of Tayce wonders how she’s still upright and breathing herself.

“Good girl,” Tayce murmurs, because there’s really no wrong time to test out the waters and see what makes A’whora tick.

From the little noise A’whora lets out from the back of her throat, it seems like Tayce is on the right track.

Tayce can’t help herself from cupping A’whora’s ass with her hands, kneading the flesh. “You really do have a nice behind, y’know that?”

“Behind? What are you, my eighty year old nan?” A’whora snickers, and despite herself, Tayce lets out a huff.

“Why am I even about to fuck you?”

“Because you’re drawn in by my ass-ets,” A’whora says, a grin on her face as she wiggles her bum slightly, and Tayce has to roll her eyes.

Despite the idiocy, it’s still hot. Tayce is definitely in too deep. She may as well dial for help now.

Her nails are short but she drags them lightly on A’whora’s skin, watching the goosebumps that rise on the surface. She follows the lace of A’whora’s thong with one hand, reaching between her legs, and shit, A’whora’s already damp through the fabric.

Not that Tayce isn’t herself, but that’s another story.

She anchors her other hand on A’whora’s hip as she traces her fingers along the lace, and she can feel a smile spreading on her face when A’whora lets out a little whine. Part of Tayce’s brain feels like it’s still in disbelief, waiting for her to wake up from a particularly saucy dream in which she ends up in her flatmate’s bed with said flatmate a mess beneath her with the sheets bunched up between her fingers. All the pining and the ‘sexual tension,’ in Lawrence’s words, coming to a head feels surreal, almost on par with seeing a dragon in their backyard or with Ellie actually being shorter than someone for once.

But she’s here, and A’whora’s here and fidgeting in the sheets and Tayce needs to stop getting bizarrely tender about hooking up with her flatmate.

It’s easier to push A’whora’s knickers to the side rather than to pull them off entirely, especially when she’s already shaky on her knees. Tayce traces along A’whora’s folds, the wetness that coats the pads of her fingers making her feel dizzy, and A’whora pushes back against her touch, a moan in the back of her throat.

“What, are you waiting for someone to make a speech or something? C’mon.”

Tayce has to grin at the gumption. A’whora’s never been one to hold back what she’s thinking. “See, I would, but you didn’t say please.”

“Fucking bitch,” A’whora groans, dropping her face back into her hands, and Tayce takes the opportunity to still two of her fingers near A’whora’s entrance, not quite pushing in the way she wants.

“Still didn’t hear a please, though.”

“Ugh. Please. You absolute hound,” A’whora grumbles, but her words cut off in a gasp when Tayce decides to give in, pushing in a finger, then another when A’whora spreads her legs apart just a little more.

A’whora’s one of the more responsive girls she’s ever had sex with, already trying to rock back against her when Tayce curls her fingers. It makes Tayce want to give her more, so as much as her wrist is complaining when she maneuvers her position so that she can circle around her clit with her thumb, she keeps at it. Speeds up when A’whora starts to drip down onto her palm.

“God, I…” A’whora gasps, and Tayce can feel the way she’s squeezing around her fingers and it’s hot, A’whora’s fucking hot and so close to the edge and there’s no way Tayce is going to stop now for anything.

Tayce leans down and presses a kiss to A’whora’s shoulder blade, the motions of her hand unforgiving as she keeps up her pace without slowing, and the contrast between the two is almost striking.

“You close, baby?”

She can see the way A’whora’s back muscles are tensing, the way her face drops into her hands as her legs get more unsteady and she drinks it all in, committing it to memory because fuck, she’s had a lot to drink tonight but there’s no way she’s gonna forget a second of this. Not when A’whora is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

A’whora can’t kill Tayce for leaving marks on her back if she can’t see them - it’s flawless logic, really. But it’s enough reason for Tayce to pay attention to the ripple of A’whora’s muscles, the heat emanating from her skin when she kisses and nips because she can’t help herself, A’whora’s back a canvas that isn’t going to stay empty for too long.

Tayce doesn’t dare change her pace, not when A’whora’s squeezing around her and her muscles are tensing and her breaths are coming in little gasps that are somehow endearing. She ignores the burning in her forearm, the way she’s worked up a sweat of her own because A’whora’s eyes are squeezed shut, and the noise in the back of her throat cuts off on a raggedy gasp for breath.

“Fuck, ah, shit-”

A’whora’s whimpering, her face buried in her arms and her legs squeezing Tayce’s hand in a death grip as her knees finally give out in a heap on the mattress. Tayce wipes her fingers on the back of A’whora’s still shaking thighs as she pulls her hand back, pressing a kiss to her hipbone before she turns her onto her back as carefully as she can.

There’s something to be said for a post-orgasm A’whora, from how her chest is rising and falling to the way she has an almost dopey smile on her face that she covers with the back of her hand.

“C’mere,” A’whora mumbles, holding out a hand with grabby motions and Tayce snorts, crossing her arms.

“Postcoital A’whora is a cuddler. Who knew?”

“M’not cuddling,” A’whora pouts, reaching for Tayce’s arm. “I wanna get on top now.”

Tayce yelps when A’whora tugs on her elbow, bracing her hands against the mattress and catching herself on top of her just in time. “You, a top? That’s a thought.”

“Hey!” A’whora whines, wiggling underneath her. “It’s my turn.”

Tayce has to hold back a laugh. “You sound like a child waiting for their go on the swings.”

But then A’whora pushes on Tayce’s hipbone and nudges her leg against her inner thigh and Tayce isn’t sure, really, how A’whora ends up on top of her, though the grin on her face is adorably triumphant.

“Ha! See, I’m strong,” A’whora preens, tossing her hair over her shoulder as her thighs bracket Tayce’s hips and as much as Tayce wants to roll her eyes, she has to admit the sight is kind of hot.

Especially when A’whora licks her lips as her gaze drags down Tayce’s body, a lioness who’s finally gotten her prey. A lioness with highlighter on her cheekbones and a slinky dress that’s still bunched up at her hips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, y’know that?” A’whora whispers the words centimeters away from Tayce’s ear, raking a hand through her hair and she can feel the way it makes goosebumps rise on her skin.

Not that Tayce is one to let her facade drop so easily. “Oh, yeah? Why’re you always out there kissing other girls, then?”

She still hasn’t forgotten the sight of A’whora grinding up on some girl on the dance floor. Or how badly she wanted it to be her.

A’whora blinks at her. “How else was I supposed to go and get your attention? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re a cheeky little hound, aren’t you?” Tayce snorts, shaking her head against the sheets.

Christ.

Really, A’whora’s not wrong. It had certainly gotten her attention, alright, made her stomach turn and need to leave the dance floor before she had a full on crisis while the beat dropped.

A’whora tsks, a smug smile alighting her features. “And yet, you still have those puppy dog eyes for me.”

“I do not-”

Tayce’s half hearted protest is cut off when A’whora presses her lips to hers, licking into her mouth. It’s bullshit and she knows it, A’whora does too, but it doesn’t matter, not when A’whora’s grinding her hips down onto her and moving her kisses to her jaw and her neck.

A’whora’s not one to waste any time, dragging her nails past Tayce’s collarbone and chest and soothing her path with kisses before she pushes Tayce’s dress straps off of her shoulders, beckoning her forward to pull on her zipper. Tayce follows without question, lifting her hips so that A’whora can tug the dress from underneath and off her legs.

Being flatmates means that they’ve seen each other in various states of undress before - when they’re trying on clothes they’ve just bought, when they’re lounging around the flat in their bras when it’s too bloody hot that one month during that one month a year London becomes a fucking sauna. But the purposeful nature with which A’whora traces a hand up Tayce’s inner thigh, her eyes lingering on the lace on her hips and the straps along her ribs, feels worlds away from those times. Tayce has to resist the urge to cross her arms, pull the sheets up on herself, because the way A’whora’s eyes are widened and her mouth is slightly parted makes no real sense when her brain tries to compute it.

A’whora pushes down on Tayce’s shoulder until she’s laying back against the cushions and winks before she resumes her path downwards, pressing biting kisses along her ribs and above her hip bone that make Tayce draw a breath in between her teeth. A’whora’s touch is delicate when she tugs on the lace sitting in the crease of Tayce’s thigh, pulling the thong down her legs and throwing it on the ground to follow the dress.

“My turn,” A’whora grins as she pushes Tayce’s legs apart, and Tayce feels like she’s going to pass out before A’whora’s even gone and done anything.

A’whora takes her time, trailing a path with her lips past Tayce’s calves, her knees, up her inner thighs, in the crease by her hip bone. Tayce tugs on her hair, a cue to speed up her pace but A’whora falters for only a second, a flutter of her eyes before looking up at Tayce, shaking her head.

“No rushing.”

“Mmh-”

Tayce’s protest cuts off when A’whora drags her tongue up her slit ever so slowly, the contact not enough in the least but also the first she’s gotten so far, which makes it feel almost like a welcome reprieve. A’whora pushes her thighs further apart, looking up with her with eyes that draw her in as her tongue traces a path around her clit, not quite giving her the relief she needs.

“Don’t tease,” Tayce gasps, her hands involuntarily tightening their grip in A’whora’s hair, and A’whora lets out a moan into her cunt in response which Tayce has to file away as the hottest fucking thing she’s ever heard.

A’whora trades her earlier motions for circling Tayce’s clit, and Tayce doesn’t even care at this point if the rest of their flatmates are home and can hear them, because A’whora’s good. Better than good. She’s going to get Tayce there embarrassingly fast and Tayce is sure that she’ll brag about it later, but it doesn’t even matter at this point, not when Tayce’s brain is this hazy and she can feel her own breaths becoming more and more shallow.

There are half moon indents where A’whora’s nails are digging into Tayce’s thighs as her movements speed up, and Tayce can feel the familiar sensation building in her core and god, she’s so fucking weak for A’whora. She looks so hot like this, her face between Tayce’s thighs and Tayce feels like she could come from the sight in front of her alone.

But Tayce instead pulls oxygen from around the room into her lungs, forcing herself to breathe as her hips begin to lift themselves from the mattress and she’s so damn close to tipping over the edge. “Fucking hell, just like that.”

A’whora’s pace is steady as she looks up at her, a glint in her eyes that doesn’t waver when Tayce’s hands wind into her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Something about the confidence in A’whora’s gaze, the way she’s unwavering with her movements is enough to finally push Tayce over the edge and fuck, the sensations are all too much but also what she’s been craving, waiting for the entire evening, and it’s perfect.

A’whora’s committed, her tongue still making circles around her clit, albeit slower but it’s enough to make Tayce’s ribcage rise and fall all jaggedly, sucking in air that can’t fill her lungs soon enough. She pushes A’whora’s face away from between her legs when it becomes too much, hiding a mewl behind her palm but it doesn’t even matter, not when A’whora’s wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and looking like she’s a cat who’s just gotten the cream.

“Shut up,” Tayce mutters, but there’s no malice behind it, not when A’whora’s smile reaches her eyes and Tayce can’t help but reach out, stroke her cheek with her thumb.

A’whora leans into her touch and Tayce’s heart glows in her chest, lighting up hopes that maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t have to be a one off. Tayce isn’t that smashed anymore and A’whora doesn’t look like it either, but it doesn’t feel awkward for Tayce to scoot down on the bed, avoiding the wet patch to lay down beside A’whora when she pats the sheets with her palm.

A’whora’s grinning that cheeky smile that she does when she’s doing a bit and laughing at her own jokes, an expression that Tayce has seen far too often. “Why don’t you just stay the night, yeah? The commute back to yours would take too long. It’s not safe at this hour, really.”

“As if my room isn’t just down the hall.”

A’whora shrugs as she drapes an arm across Tayce’s midsection, shuffling to get closer to her. “See? Much too far. May as well stay here at this point.”

“Very compelling argument, I have to say,” Tayce can’t help but smile, and putting her arms around A’whora’s waist when she snuggles into her feels so normal, so them.

Yeah, A’whora’s half on her lap for movie nights anyway because they’re the only two who enjoy strawberry laces as a snack and they have to share the packet but now they’re snuggling, actually snuggling and Tayce doesn’t feel like running for the hills. Maybe because it’s A’whora, her best friend who knows when she’s annoyed and trying to hide it, the one who knows her coffee order down to the almond milk.

Tayce presses a kiss to the top of A’whora’s head because she can, and the contented sigh that A’whora lets out is enough to bloom the seeds of longing in her chest into strings of ivy that don’t ever want to let her go. She can’t, not anymore, not when she’s seen A’whora come apart but also sees A’whora now, nearly falling asleep on her chest with eyes that she can barely keep open.

She’s so beautiful.

And Tayce is so, absolutely fucked.

Maybe she’ll work out how to properly win A’whora over in the morning, and keep this from being something as stupid as a one night stand because Tayce doesn’t want that, or feel like she can handle the two of them only having something so fleeting. She needs A’whora around as more than just a best friend or a flatmate that always brings home fresh flowers for the kitchen table. The reminder is almost calming, in a way, running through her veins and a part of her after years of attempting to push the thoughts out of view.

Tayce can’t continue to bury the feelings in the farthest corners of her mind anymore, not with A’whora in her arms like this and having it actually mean something. No more pining. She’s going to promise herself.

Maybe she can ask A’whora out properly when they wake up, if she has the guts for it. That is, after asking for a round two first.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #uk2 #smut #lesbian au #holtzmanns

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therucrap · 4 years

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Holler at me I know you know me, holler at me I know you know me! This week’s gathering of the Tamisha Iman fan club will now commence! Enjoy this week’s RuCrap and please subscribe and share!

Our exhausted divas return to the Werk Room after Joey’s shocking elimination (i.e. the judges told Lala that she had the worst look in Drag Race history for a look challenge and she lipsync’d herself safe) and an eventful untucked in which Kandy and Tamisha’s bubbling tit-for-tat escalated into a wild shouting match. Tamisha goaded the defensive Kandy by reiterating that she doesn’t like “certain people” in the competition while staring Kandy directly in the eyes, dinging the time-to-make-good-TV bell in Kandy’s head that led to a full arm-waving, storming-back-and-forth, separate-the-groups screaming match. Tempers are still hot with our WWE superstars and Tamisha has established that her catchphrase is “I said what I said” so they decide to call it a night and head back to their hotel rooms to take their heels off, relax, and simmer in their swirling unresolved emotions like normal people.

Our queens return to the Werk Room with giant nervous smiles (read: everyone’s exhausted and would rather address that later) and Jer-Ru Springer enters and tells her trusty ratings grabbers to split into pairs. The gals find their BFF’s except for Tamisha and Elliott who wind up alone then lock eyes and awkwardly shuffle towards each other. Her holiness Tamisha immediately consoles her accidental teammate who is visibly dejected after another week of floating amongst the established cliques and I get the feeling that Tamisha, haus mother and unshakable rumbler, honestly doesn’t care that no one picked her because she isn’t of this world and shouldn’t be judged by mere mortals anyway. For the mini challenge they’ll be creating a dress using Spoonflower Wallpaper - a company that we learn exists - and it’s surprisingly our odd couple of last picked queens who rally and snatch the win with a leopard look and a bunch of Carol Baskin jokes that remind us this was filmed last year in the brief period of time that Tiger King was all we talked about as a society until it abruptly wasn’t.

For the maxi challenge our groups will be performing a disco-mentary and during dance rehearsal we learn that recent cancer survivor Tamisha is still wearing an ostomy bag but hasn’t told anyone in fear of sympathy, a reality that sinks in once she finds out that her choreo involves a hula hoop which would strike fear in most people above the age of 14 much less an American icon with a tube taped to an open wound in her stomach. The queens hustle getting ready for the disco-mentary and when the subject turns to growing pains we learn that Olivia was diagnosed obese in high school and lost weight once she joined theater, came out, found her confidence, and became the glowing cherub we see today. Tamisha, whose childhood nickname was iconically “Booty,” found respite in cheerleading despite her grandmother discouraging something so feminine but was encouraged by a community leader who wanted her to follow her dreams of making it in Hollywood, which she will do if I have anything to say about it. Ryan Murphy do your thing! Kandy opens up about her mother who was in and out of jail when she was younger which led to Kandy’s hard exterior and general defensiveness considering the fact that she had to fend for herself.

It’s showtime and we head to the runway where the judge of The Real - Loni Love, joins the singer of The Realness - RuPaul, for a musical history lesson on disco and a deceptively difficult Little Black Dress runway. The disco-mentary goes off without a hitch and and the judges critique Tamisha for being too timid, Kandy for staying in her comfort zone and not embodying disco, and Utica for relying on wackiness once again. If these critiques sound vague it’s because this is one of those weeks towards the middle of the season where everyone did well enough so eliminations have more to do with production deciding whose story is getting tied up than anything else. They give kudos to Tina and Elliott who danced their asses off but critique their safe runway looks and it’s Olivia who snatches the win with great hair all around and a particularly infectious performance. Also, if you’re wondering how Tina shoehorned orange, red, and yellow into a Little Black Dress runway well it was tastefully of course... by walking out in a painters coverall that unzipped to reveal a black velour dress with orange and yellow hand prints on the boobs!

Kandy and Tamisha are determined to be the bottom two and face off to the seminal disco classic... “Hit ‘Em Up Style (Oops)” by Blu Cantrell? You can’t tell me there wasn’t a single goddamn Donna Summers song available at a similar rate. One could say they really dropped the disco ball on that one. In the end Tamisha is sent home after an emotional lip sync and immediately hugs the sobbing Kandy which immediately squashes the beef. We hate to see this icon fall but safe to say she has a spot on All-stars. Actually screw All-Stars. Stephen Spielberg! Tyler Perry! I wanna see scripts on this woman’s desk by Monday!

Thanks for reading and please share and subscribe! See you next week!

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jq37 · 5 years

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thoughts on this week's ep?

**spoilers for broadway brawl**

***Before we start, I remembered as I was typing this one of the important notes I lost from last week’s recap: Interesting that Christmas seemingly went off without a hitch. I expected Santa to come back into play somehow (like, someone would check on him to make sure Christmas was still on or he’d call them in to help or something) but he hasn’t, at least not yet.***

My guys, my guys, my guys. Was that something or was that something?

I think I am on record as saying that combat is my least favorite part of ttrpgs generally speaking because I’m here for the RP but when a combat episode shines it really freaking shines (see eg: that first combat ep of Bloodkeep where everyone went full Galaxy Brain except for Matt who couldn’t hit a single thing) and this is such a good example. This is easily a top five ep of the season for me, maybe top three so let’s get into it and break down why it was so awesome.

We start right where we left off with Titania and members of her court having come into the theater to beat the tar out of Misty mid-show.

Quick note: At the end of last ep, it was set up so that Misty was thrust on stage right after hearing the mirror was on stage which would place this fight right at the top of Act 2 but at the start of this ep, Brennan seems to indicate that it’s taking place during what would be the closing number. Which would make more sense but imagine you go see a play, the first act is super dope, and then the second act is an insane, minute long fight that’s pretty unconnected to the plot and then a buff, naked, beautiful man tells you the show is over and you should leave. Wild. Anyway.

Pixies with tommy guns in inherently funny.

So one of the things that makes this fight really great is the way it directly ties into the story in a way besides “These bad guys are in our way.” Misty is using this show as a part of her reincarnation spell so if the show is messed up, it fails and she’s on her last life. Brennan has a cool mechanic of making her roll death saves every round at a difficulty lower than her modifier (which is s/t crazy like 11) but that gets harder with damage done to her and performance checks failed by other players who decide to jump on stage. It’s a great way to make the battle feel like it has more personal stakes and it’s my fave original Brennan mechanic since the Family in Flames Sophie’s Choice situation.

(I love that the death save counter is changed for theater comedy/tragedy masks for this. Nice touch.)

Em, Esther, and Wally are also at the fight which is clutch.

Also, Sondheim is specifically here which is an insane detail to add just because.

WILD that no one knows what’s going on with the ritual initially because, as Lou almost does, getting all the civilians out is the smart move and it would COMPLETELY ruin Misty’s plans instantly.

Lou having Kingston take the stairs bc’s he’s 50+ years old and has no time for that nonsense has equal but opposite energy to him doing extra rolls for Fabian to do unnecessary parkour before a simple attack because Fabian’s Like That.

Murph fireblasts the hell out of Titania’s foot soldiers right off the bat from outside of counterspell range which is very cool.

“Give me a performance check for the cockroach.”

“You’re upstaging me bitch?”

Another great thing about this fight is that because of it’s theatrical nature, everyone’s RPing it more than a usual battle ep (or more intensely maybe is what I mean).

Titania hypnotizes Don Confetti and his goons into fighting for her.

“She doesn’t know she’s in a play but she does sing most of her dialogue which is helpful for you.” Titania is just Like That.

Pete drops an erupting earth and drops a sick 37 damage on those same minions Kug got.

I didn’t notice before but yeah, Ally does roll die like a f-ing beyblade champion.

Emily hearing Murph’s low key, offhand comments and cracking up is great.

“Get Sondheim!” (Emily and then Ally: WHAT?!)

Actual living dude Stephen Sondheim being involved in this fight is just so ridiculous and fun and crazy.

We go around to Misty’s turn and she has to beat a 28 (upped from 10) and she fails which feels worse than a normal failed death save somehow.

Lou, in a very good RP move, tells Pete to tell Misty to end the show so she can tell them not to so the group has a valid reason to not evacuate which is a thing they (or at least him and Ricky) would obviously want to do.

Sophie, the madwoman, jumps out of the balcony, grabs a costume, then runs on stage. Emily’s glee at being told that her grabbing the costume will give her advantage is great. She’s always trying to figure out how to make the most of her moves. She is the living embodiment of the concept of method to madness (which is from Hamlet since we’re talking Shakespeare today).

Ox is constantly dying (Brennan!) but also it’s like, why was he even there before the fight started? I’ve never seen a non-service dog in a theater.

Ricky: Is this part of it?

Oh, forgot to mention that everything that happens on stage is kinda shielded by the Umbral Arcana so everyone watching thinks it’s part of the show, which is a cool plot detail.

Ricky gets fULLY NAKED (Emily, with perfect comic timing: Now do I roll with disadvantage?) and leaps into the fray. He casts Protection from Evil and Good on her which (1) He does by Magic Mike body-rolling on her while he’s naked and considering how much shorter she is that her raises some interesting questions about positioning and (2) is the most clutch use of this spell I’ve seen in a while. It’s a spell I always wanna take as a Paladin because it makes sense character-wise, but I’ve never been able to actually use it because we’re never fighting fiends, fae, or celestial.

Brennan’s dime change change reversal of the critic’s comments on Ricky’s body rolls when Zac re-rolls his 11 makes me glad I never had to face him in a debate team setting.

Ally: What’s Esther’s deal ;)/Brennan: *Esther’s Weapon Stats*

“Your only secret you’ve ever had in your life is that you have a crush on her.”

Wally has a beautiful singing voice and a working knowledge of Midsummer's which is wild.

Lou’s periodic, “My man”’s when Ally/Pete does something cool. He’s very dialed into being Kingston.

Ricky’s aura keeps everyone near him from being charmed and Misty saves everyone else w/ a nat 20 counterspell. Few things in D&D are more satisfying than a well executed counterspell.

Titania trying to get Pete to be her consort or something when he just over the super posh Priya is very funny.

“I mean between me and Sondheim, get Sondheim!”

“DO WE HAVE HOMEWORK TONIGHT?” (“We did have homework.”)

Anyway, Misty has one success now!

Misty tries to use puppet to get Titania to drop her crown and it doesn’t work. Brennan says the crown is Crown of Stars which I looked up and it’s actually a spell, not a physical crown, but I’m assuming he used the mechanical effects of the spell on a physical item.

Brennan doing all these musical/singing bits when he absolutely doesn’t have to. I love it.

I love Ricky and Sophie being the two martial fighting heavy hitters of the group. Like, the two fighters, having the spellcasters’ backs.

I hope the one kung fu fan in the back of the theater never sees another Broadway show again because he’s gonna be so disappointed.

“I’m just so inspired by that beautiful penis.”

Murph, out of character, verbally acknowledging how insane what they’re doing is. I love when someone pauses in a game of D&D to just recite what’s currently happening out of context so everyone can appreciate how crazy it is. D&D. Gotta love it..

Emily and Siobhan have a quick conversation in the background about whether Sondheim did Les Mis or not (not, that’s Claude-Michel Schönberg) while Brennan and Murph are Ring nonsense.

I also was mildly suspicious of Alyssa so I’m glad Kingston checked her out.

The entire roast of Brennan when he’s selecting D6s is an instantly iconic D20 moment. I can’t do it justice. You kinda just have to see it.

“Someone call Wizards of the Coast!”

Em, Wally, and Alyssa go out when Titania puts out a huge spell that blinds Kug.

“Yummy, yummy, tastes like ass.”

On Misty’s next turn, she rolls a fail which makes it 2 failures to 1 success. Brennan mentions that a nat 1 counts as 2 failures and a nat 20 counts as 2 successes. I’m sure that won’t be relevant later because you can’t foreshadow things when dice rolls are completely random.

Misty fails on puppet again again and Titania goes full Wicked Witch of the West on her and starts Jonesing for those shoessss.

Emily’s Emily(tm) move of the session is doing a flying leap at Titania, hitting her with a stunning strike and having Brennan retract the Box off Doom he was pulling out because she can’t save when she’s stunned. She just plummets out of the sky.

Don Confetti respecting the sacrament of marriage as he goes full Opera ghost and tries to garrote Sophie.

Ricky (still naked) grabs the crown from Titania, tosses it to Misty, and, with some improv and a good charisma roll, makes the show suddenly make sense to the very confused but entertained audience.

I’m so glad that Murph decided to turn into a bear and that they made the Winter’s tale ref. I should have had faith in Brennan and Siobhan, the theater nerds. Exit pursued by a bear y’all.

Lou and Emily bonding over being proud of their die for rolling well when they lend it out for a big roll.

Really wish Pete had wild magic surged in this fight. Just to add that extra bit of chaos.

With a very good turn (no damage taken, no performances failed) Misty only has to avoid snake eyes to get through this turn. She leapfrogs over that low bar and rolls a nat 20, instantly fulfilling her win condition. At this point, the play is superfluous and Titania is still down.

“Brennan lost and now he knows reddit is gonna eat his ass.”

OK, remember how I said earlier that Misty seems like the kind of character you nudge a little temptation at just to spice things up? Yeah, her killing Titania and getting the crown of the Seelie Fae makes me a liiiitle apprehensive, but we’ll see how that turns out.

“I killed my queen! This is America we don’t have royalty here.”

“Bear, I don’t know who you are, but take me on your back, let me ride on stage.” —creator of West Side Story, Stephen Sondheim

Misty charms the critic at the show to make sure they get a good review which is such a fae thing to do.

Kingston’s clearly not loving attacking Don and Co. post “real fight” what with his whole Do No Harm thing (well, that’s Dr’s but same principle applies I assume) is a good character detail. For that matter, so is Ricky just taking Titania’s crown and not beheading her which he super could have done while she was down but it would have been very incongruous with everything else about him.

Brian “This isn’t Loony Tunes” Murphy throws Sondheim as a projectile weapon at a pixie who snaps the pixie’s neck and then does a monologue at the audience.

I love it when someone rolls low on an insight check and Brennan gives them useless info and then they repeat it in their character’s voice.

4 mins from the end of the ep, Siobhan realizes there are two Perrys in this story for the first time and has a bigger reaction to that than almost everything else in this ep except her nat 20.

Ricky looks for costume faun legs to cover his fully out dick instead of costume pants or even his own pants.

Misty starts glowing with reincarnation energy and she runs into her dressing room for privacy. Also, she still super hasn’t told anyone what’s going on. (ALSO, assuming she’s gonna make the world think she died, it’s gonna be wild for the company of the show to have their leading lady put on the performance of her life and then die on opening night).

“Who am I to refuse a crown when it’s placed so deftly upon my head?”

You know that behind the scenes thing where Brennan is like, “Yeah, I knew Siobhan was gonna steal that book,”? I got some of those vibes during the crown scene.

The implications of what Misty did are gonna be left until next ep but Brennan says something about her creating her own court and it looks like she’s recruiting followers in the promo. IDK how I feel about that (these stories tend to have great power--especially tied to powerful magical items--as a corrupting force) but I am very excited to see how it goes down! See you then!

#the unsleeping city #dimension 20 #asks #galfast

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introvertguide · 5 years

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Swing Time (1936); AFI #90

The next film on the AFI list that we watched was the dance classic Swing Time (1936) with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. The movie was nominated for two Oscars and won Best Song for “The Way You Look Tonight.” The film was rather recently recognized by the US Congress and inducted into the American Film Registry in 2003. The film is mainly known for the dancing and the music, but I want to do a brief overview of the plot:

SPOILER ALERT!!! BTW, these are not even good spoilers because the movie is 80 years old and the plot is a little light. I did my best.

John "Lucky" Garnett (Fred Astaire) is a gambler (apparently a viable profession in the 30s?) and dancer who is engaged to marry a woman named Margaret (Betty Furness), but his friends make him late for the wedding with a rouse about cuffed trousers (I guess...) and the bride’s father phones to call the whole thing off. His friends get the message but don’t pass on the information and instead bet Lucky that he will not be getting married, and he agrees to the bet. Margaret's father tells Lucky that he must earn $25,000 to demonstrate his good intentions. (Why? Not sure. If it was my daughter, I would either accept his apology or tell him to get lost and never return. There would be no bartering over my child’s happiness. Instead, the father makes it into a bidding war and is suddenly OK with this man standing up his daughter because he might have good financial prospects)

Lucky and his friend "Pop" Cardetti (Victor Moore) try to buy train tickets, but his friends take his money due to the rigged bet over the marriage. Lucky and Pop do their best hobo routine and hitch the first freight train to New York. Broke, they wander around the city and eventually run into Penny (Ginger Rogers), a dance school instructor, when Lucky asks for change for a quarter. It's his lucky quarter and Pop feels bad that Lucky had to exchange it. They attempt to get it back, but Penny is in no mood to deal with them. When she drops her things, Pop sneaks the quarter out of her purse, but she blames Lucky. Quick note, there are screwball romantic comedy beats throughout the film because there are constant mistakes and misunderstandings that are “whacky” and simultaneously move the plot along. They are cute but often make no sense.

The two follow Penny back to her work so that Lucky can apologize, but he has to take a dancing lesson from her for an opportunity to talk to her. She's still furious and, after a disastrous lesson, Penny tells him to "save his money" since he will never learn to dance. Her boss, Mr. Gordon (Eric Blore), overhears her comment and fires her. Lucky dances with Penny to "prove" how much she's taught him. The dance that the two are able to do “spontaneously” is blatantly choreographed and perfect in every way. For the purpose of the movie, however, it is meant to be improvised. Not only does Mr. Gordon give Penny her job back, he sets up an audition with the owner of a local venue to showcase his new student and his talented teacher.

Lucky and Pops check into the same hotel where Penny is staying for the audition. Lucky does not have a tuxedo to wear to the audition so he tries to get a tuxedo off a drunk man, but he ends up losing his own clothes instead. Like I said, not everything makes sense so you just have to roll with it sometimes. The pair end up missing their audition and Penny gets mad at Lucky all over again. Lucky is able to arrange another audition then he and Pop picket (literally with sandwich boards) in front of Penny's door until she gives in and forgives him. Also, Penny’s friend Mable and Pops seem to be in a relationship even though they don’t seem to really like each other. Also, Pops always sounds drunk. I don’t know why, it just is.

In the strangest plot twist yet, it turns out that they cannot audition because the club has lost their band leader, Ricardo Romero (Georges Metaxa), to a casino. They go to Club Raymond where Lucky gambles to win enough to get Ricky back. Meanwhile, it turns out that Ricky Romero has been hitting on Penny for a long time and wants to marry her. Lucky is about to win enough to marry Margaret, but he takes his last bet off in time... proving he is no longer interested in her, but in Penny, instead. This is rather strange because there is nothing forcing Lucky to go back if he makes enough money since the father of Margaret never comes back, but it is seems to be a driving force to prove that he loves Penny. He is willing to remain somewhat poor for her. The owner of Club Raymond bets Lucky on a single card cut and the wager is all of Lucky’s winnings versus the contract of the band leader. Upon seeing that the club owner intends to cheat, Pop cheats as well, and Lucky wins the contract. I am not exactly sure how all this happens, but I see why Lucky is a considered a professional gambler since he is consistently betting in an attempt to win people.

Lucky and Penny dance at the club and it is beautiful. They are dancing together all the time, but Lucky does not trust himself around Penny because he feels guilty about not telling her about Margaret. He's avoiding her, which Penny notices, so she and her friend Mabel Anderson (Helen Broderick) conspire to get Lucky and Pop out to the country. There is a most awkward number when Pop lets slip the information about Lucky and Margaret and a very flirty Penny becomes very cold as it seems that the two cannot be in love at the same time.

Mabel basically dares Penny to go in and confess to Lucky that she loves him and they finally have a moment. But as these movies tend to go, Margaret shows up and ruins everything. Penny decides to marry Ricardo and Lucky will go back and marry Margaret. It turns out the Margaret has decided she wants to marry somebody else so Lucky runs out and breaks up the wedding using the same trouser cuff gag that was used on him at the beginning of the movie.

Ricardo is without pants so Penny says that she guesses she is going to marry Lucky and then Ricardo plays a song with his band celebrating Lucky and what a great guy he is. Lucky and Penny finally have an on screen kiss and that is the end of the movie.

It was noted by my parents that the music and dance numbers are not evenly dispersed through the movie, but are instead bunched up in the later two-thirds of the film. It is a good 20-25 minutes before the first song while musicals at the time normally had a big opening number (along the lines of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in The Wizard of Oz). This was apparently due to the first number, ironically named “It’s Not in the Cards,” to be cut from the film as it was judged as being not up to the standard of the other songs.

A cinematography note (or lack of one, really) concerning the dance skill of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, many of the dance sequences have 3-5 minute uncut shots in which the camera barely moves. Astaire famously said on many occasions that he was doing the dancing, not the camera. With his perfectionism and the general toughness of Rogers, the two would do dozens of takes for these complicated dance numbers to the point that the high heels would rub in Ginger’s feet causing them to bleed. Every dance scene is a testament to both actor’s dedication to their art.

The movie was similar to painting a room in that it took much less time to complete the aspect that people would actually see than the time it took to prepare. Months of developing the choreography and rehearsing was filmed over weeks despite the multiple takes insisted on by both director George Stevens and Fred Astaire. Dance director Hermes Pan was a very creative choreographer that developed highly technical and extremely complicated dance numbers and Astaire insisted they were done flawlessly. Ginger was a talented dancer that brought the best out of Fred because she continued on take after take and was able to keep up with Astaire’s almost manic work ethic.

The number that Astaire performs when Margaret shows up to see him in a tribute to Jim “Bojangles” Robinson and involves Lucky being in black face. The number is a little weird and he goes through a good five minutes of shenanigans following the number still in black face. It is just weird. I just kept thinking he needed to wash off his face already, but he deals with both of the club owners and again loses Ricardo’s contract. I has awkward moments with Penny meeting Margaret and it is just so much more so since Lucky is still in black face. It is pretty uncomfortable in today’s society

Although I personally like the simple sound of his voice, Astaire has never been recognized as a very good singer. He also is not known for his acting, especially in his younger years. He was a world recognized phenomenal dancer from age 10 when he danced with his sister to the day he died. He was also not a classically good looking man being oddly proportioned with large facial features (especially the ears). All this being said, he successfully plays a suave gambler, sings beautifully, dances spectacularly, and truly embodies a confident man that makes women swoon. This was a perfect movie for Astaire in that it challenged his dancing skill and he was able to play off Ginger for his acting. He was not given much to sing but a very simple little piece that worked well his voice. He was dressed well with a top hat throughout the film. The film is truly the all around best of Fred Astaire (at least I think so).

So would I recommend the film? Absolutely, but I would mention the Bojangles in Harlem number because the blackface is a little off-putting. I think most people will either just skip it, watch it and not care, or watch it and think the 30s was a very different time. Everybody is different, though, so keep it in mind. Should this film be on the AFI 100 list? I think that the way that Astaire was filmed due to his talent and perfectionism is something that has been lost to film trickery so something like this which highlights the best of Fred Astaire should surely be searched at and ranked as one of the best parts of American cinematic history. A great film that is a lot of fun to watch.

#fred astaire #ginger rogers #swing time #dance #musicals #film critique #AFI movies #introvert #introverts #1930s movies #vintage film #black and white #choreography

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

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Michael in the Mainstream: Shazam!

The DCEU is really the embodiment of the spirit of the origins of the modern superhero movie craze. Much like the man who helped kick it off in 2008 – one Robert Downey Jr. - The DCEU had a dark, checkered past, with a lot of horrible issues that made audiences balk at their films. Man of Steel was just another so-so Superman film, Batman v Superman was a bloated, bizarre crossover film made before anything about the world was really established, and Suicide Squad was just a complete and utter hot mess. Then came Wonder Woman, a breath of fresh air in the current superhero landscape and the DCEU at large… and then came Justice League, a tonally confused mess that managed to be entertaining in spite of itself. After that was the infinitely entertaining cheesy fantasy action of Aquaman, putting the franchise back in everyone’s good graces just in time for a silly little movie about a little boy who transforms into a grown man to come on the scene… Shazam!

Shazam! is, without a doubt in my mind, the Iron Man to the RDJ of the DCEU. While there were great ones before, with Wonder Woman and Aquaman being absolutely fantastic and enjoyable, this was the first film to pull of what those two movies did without the big problems that bogged down those two movies. There’s no inane plot twist villain followed by a goofy fight, and quite mercifully there is no acting as atrocious as Amber Heard’s performance. The movie has problems, yes, but it does almost everything solidly enough that I can overlook the issues.

I think what really makes the film special is just how earnest and unashamed of itself that it is. It’s goofy, it’s bright, it doesn’t sugarcoat what a teenage boy granted the power to turn into a grown man would do… it’s just so playful, silly, and charming. And if there’s one thing I never imagined I’d say, it’s that a teenager turning into Zachary Levi to sneak into a strip club would be “charming.” This movie really loves throwing curveballs.

And nowhere is that more apparent than in the concept itself. Shazam, or Captain Marvel, or perhaps even Captain Sparklefingers is not the first hero you’d expect DC to make a movie out of, especially since on paper he seems pretty similar to Superman, power-wise at least. They’ve already established Superman as a big force in this world, so why would they go with the weird concept of a kid getting powers from an old wizard to turn into a knockoff Superman? But if there’s anything comic book movies have proven lately, it’s that weird, off-the-wall concepts like this can work, and they just dive into all this whole hog. There’s no sugarcoating things or explaining the magic away as alien tech like early MCU movies did; no, this is magic, there’s a wizard, there are demons, this is all happening. Magical elements have obviously been in the DCEU before – Enchantress, the Greek Gods, and to some extent Atlantis have all been shown – but this is our first time seeing a wizard who wouldn’t look out of place in an 80s fantasy film and actual, evil demons that personify the Seven Deadly Sins. It’s just so great that we’ve come so far with superhero movies where we can have a magically-empowered child punch demons in the face.

And speaking of the child, Billy Batson is such a wonderful character. He starts the movie as a bitter loner with abandonment issues and a dislike of authority due to his mother going missing for much of his life, with a good heart underneath it all; as the movie goes on, of course he learns his lesson and comes to accept his new family as his real one and all that delightfully feel-good mushy stuff. And much like fellow superpowered youngster Miles Morales from last year’s biggest non-MCU superhero film, Billy feels real, his struggles feel real, and his growth as a character feels real. He honestly feels like a more accurate take on Superman than any previous Superman movie (except Hercules and The Iron Giant, anyway). Obviously credit must be given to Zachary Levi as Shazam, who does a really good job of being both badass and extremely childish when the scene calls for it, but I think props must be given to Asher Angel as well, not only because he is just as capable of carrying the movie as Levi is due to his fantastic dramatic moments and solid humor, but because he has an absolutely fantastic name.

Of course, a superhero movie is usually only as good as its villain, and thankfully this film has an extremely solid villain in the form of Dr. Sivana, a classic villain of Shazam who has been given quite a makeover for this film. Played by the inimitable Mark Strong of modern classics such as Kingsman, Sivana is an utter bastard as well as a tragic figure; we open the movie seeing him abused by his family, only to be called by Shazam the wizard and then cruelly rejected because his heart just wasn’t pure enough for the wizard’s high standards. What follows is a terrible accident that surely opened up the door for decades of belittlement and abuse at the hands of his father and brother, to the point where you honestly understand where he’s coming from to a certain degree… though probably not to the degree where you find it okay he wants to murder a child.

The Sins on the other hand… well, let me put it this way: they gave me flashbacks of the elemental demons that worked for Blackheart in Ghost Rider, and if that doesn’t make sense to you, I cannot stress enough you do not ever want to be compared to those guys. The Sins lack personality, character, and even creative designs; I could hardly tell which Sin was supposed to be which in quite a few cases. It’s honestly kind of sad they had more personality as statues then they did after hitching a ride in Sivana’s body, but to their credit they at least function more like a plot device and minions than as actual characters, serving as essentially either boss battles for Shazam to knock around or as a power boost for Sivana himself. It is a shame they aren’t more interesting, but it’s also not a big loss, as the movie focuses far more on the comedy and drama around Billy than the actual superheroics, which is weirdly a good thing.

Billy’s extended foster family are all great in their own right, though I will say that at the moment they do seem a bit one-note, aside from Freddy anyway. Mary, Eugene, and Pedro are all interesting and enjoyable in their own right, but the movie kind of shunts them and their characters aside to focus more on Billy, Freddy, and to a lesser extent Darla. To the movie’s eternal credit though, it puts a lot of focus on them in the third act, and they get to do something pretty surprising and awesome in the climax that I won’t spoil.

However, I must spoil the mid-credits scene, because that is the moment when I knew that this movie is not just the Iron Man of the DCEU, but the Guardians of the Galaxy as well. You see, a character who those steeped in the lore of Captain Marvel/Shazam will easily recognize appears, one Mr. Mind. Now, with a name like that, if you are unaware of the character as I was when I first had his existence spoiled, you might think this might just be some mad scientist, or some evil doctor, or something akin to Mr. Sinister where it’s a superpowered evil man… but Mr. Mind is something far better.

He is a caterpillar. An evil alien caterpillar from Venus. And he talks with a little voice box in a creepy radio voice.

Mr. Mind’s appearance is a sign to me that the DCEU is going down the right path. This is the sort of ballsy move sticking Howard the Duck at the end of Guardians was, in a franchise that has a lot more to lose considering its checkered track record. The fact that they are willing to, this early into their run, give us an evil universe-conquering worm shows me that now the DCEU is fully willing to embrace the inherent silliness and fun of the comics they are adapting. I’m fully expecting Tawky Tawny to show up in the next film at this rate (and with all the tiger symbolism in this one, he just might).

Fun, charming, funny, emotional, and dramatic… I figured it would be good, but the fact that this film is this good is just a shock. I’m so happy that DCEU isn’t backtracking on its desire to truly embrace what fans love about comics and take risks with what they show us, and the fact it’s doing it a lot quicker than Marvel did gives me a lot of hope we’ll be seeing even weirder stuff in the future (fingers crossed for Mr. Mxyzptlk!). I think DCEU fans and Marvel fans alike can come together and appreciate this one, because it’s just an absolute joy to watch regardless of which comic book company you slavishly worship over the other. More than anything else, though, it must be said:

This is DEFINITELY the best Captain Marvel movie of 2019.

#Michael in the Mainstream #Review #Movie review #DCEU #Shazam #Shazam!#Zachary Levi #Captain Marvel #before anyone says anything I think the MCU Captain Marvel is alright #but how could I not love this more?#It's Big starring Tom Hanks... BUT WITH SUPERHEROES!#And also Mr. Mind #Fuck Darkseid #Mr. Mind for life baby!

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looselucy · 7 years

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November

“So, when exactly do you think we should have stopped Liam drinking?” Harry’s body curved gorgeously as he leaned against the bar. “Around five pints ago.” I figured. “You didn’t even see him do the shot.” “He did a shot?” I cried. “It was an accident!” “An accident?” I huffed sarcastically. “Yeah. I accidentally ordered the shots, paid for the shots, and then passed one over to Liam. Total accident.”

I lightly slapped Harry’s chest and then dragged my eyes back over to the dancefloor, seeing Liam stood there hugging my dad. I was just grateful that he was being a loving drunk. It seemed the day had rubbed off on him a little bit, because he could have so easily gotten drunk to the stage where he was ready to have a fist fight with my dad, but he’d opted for hugging and dancing instead. “Looks happy though, doesn’t he?” I smiled. “He does.” Harry nodded. “How far do you think you are from being at that stage?” “Well, ten pints and one shot, at least.” I smirked. “But… I just want to talk with him, really. I’m not expecting too much, at this stage. I just want to talk.” It was easier for Liam, in some ways. He’d probably had an even tougher time adjusting to the whole mess than I had, especially with him having to stop travelling and attempting to settle down back in the UK. But at least Liam had been working with him, because it seemed even the small talk had helped them reach a good stage a little quicker. They’d become more familiar with each other. They were used to each other. I hadn’t had that privilege. Also, the bottom line was, I hadn’t drunk as much as Liam had. “You gunna go over there?” Harry asked. “No. He’s gunna have to approach me. I’m trying my best to be understanding, and everything, but I’m not being a pushover. Not tonight.” “Well, I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I’m skint.” Harry smiled, as I turned back to face him. “Student loans don’t really cover buying drinks at wedding receptions.” “You’ve been buying drinks all day.” I pouted. “Let me get you one.” “I’m alright. Kinda want to pace myself anyway.” “Why?” “Well, if you end up drunk, crying, and being sick, I need to be in a fit enough state to look after you.” “Flattered.” I tutted. “But I’m pacing myself too. It could be hours before my dad plucks up the courage to talk to me, and I don’t want to be slurring my replies.” The unmistakable piano notes featured in the opening of Angels by Robbie Williams sounded, and I groaned loudly. It made me regret not getting a drink straight away. “What?” Harry chuckled. “I was just waiting for him to play this song.” I huffed. “Where did they hire this guy? Stereotypical Wedding DJs R Us?” “Worst joke you’ve ever made.” He sniggered. “And for your information, this is a fine song.” “You’re kidding?” “It’s a classic.” He shrugged. “I’d have been disappointed if he didn’t play this.” I watched as everyone poured onto the dancefloor, the song being a literal magnet for those people. I suppose it was pretty difficult not to have a soft spot for that song. For some reason, it seemed to be a nostalgic song for everyone! I wasn’t even sure how that was possible, how one song could have that kind of pull to it, but Angels just did. I guess Liam hadn’t been with us for a while, and I was the one having to think up the sassy, bitter comments. On top of that, it was the prime song at every single terrible wedding that any British person has ever attended. It was just so bloody predictable. As I was staring at the dancefloor, Harry moved around so he was stood in front of me, and offered his hand. “No.” I said straight away. “We’ve gotta dance.” “To Angels?” “Don’t let me down, Pip-Squeak.” His raised his eyebrows playful, his hand still waiting to be taken. I gave him this look, like I really didn’t want to do it, staring at him through thick lashes, but I found it very difficult to keep the smile off my face. Harry didn’t realise he wasn’t just inviting me to dance, but he was just inviting entirely. The way he held himself, the twinkle that was constantly in his eye no matter the lighting. He was warmth embodied, the kind of warmth I felt like I needed to survive. With a roll of my eyes, I slapped my hand in his, watching each little movement of his lips as they spread into this wonderful, wide grin. He dragged me off towards the crowd, placing us slap bang in the middle, and holding me close to him as we began to sway back and forth, Harry seeming pretty familiar with his role of leading. I was aching to lay my head on his chest, but not only would I be pushing my luck, I would be pushing my own nerves. I couldn’t even imagine how deeply I would fall in love with the bastard if I was slow dancing with him with my head on his chest. I wrapped one arm around him, and lay my other hand on his shoulder. Harry placed one hand on the small of my back, and placed one giant hand nervously on the side of my neck, his throat hitching, and I could feel that he was shaking. Just slightly. He tried to snap out of it. “Okay, so we missed the first chorus whilst you were moaning about the song.” He shook his head. “But I think on the next, you do a spin.” “You want me to spin?” “When Robbie goes, and through it allllll, you step back from me, right?” “Okay.” I chuckled. “But I’ll keep hold of one hand, obviously. THEN, when Robbie goes, she offers me protection, you spin. Then on a lot of love and affection-” “Stop singing.” “You come back close, right?” I could see Harry had started the whole thing as a joke, but the more he explained it, I could see he was actually getting a little bit excited over this performance we were about to put on, even though he would never admit it. My cheeks were hurting I was smiling so much. “And we stay close for whether I’m right or wrong.” “Did you know you can sing?” I bit my lip. “Then, of course, when Robbie sings and down the waterfaaaaall, okay, this is where it gets complicated. When he says that, I’ll step away from you, okay? Then, it’s almost my turn to spin.” “Pippa?” I turned around, to see my dad stood waiting for me. How long had I been waiting for this, for my dad to pull himself together and speak to me? Fuck, I was glad it was finally happening, but did he really need me at that EXACT BLOODY MOMENT? I just wanted to turn around and scream that I was just about to do some bloody spinning with Harry, but I didn’t think that would be much of a big deal to him. “Hi.” I breathed. “You wanna talk?” He mumbled. I nodded, my dad went outside, and I tried to catch my breath before I followed him. Harry dropped his hands from my body at the same time as I dropped mine from his. “Good luck, Pip.” “Thanks.” “Shame though. That was going to be a fantastic dance.” “Well, if this DJ is as bad as I think he is, I’m sure he’ll play the same song again in an hour or so.” “Fingers crossed! Now get out there. Stay calm, okay?” I nodded, and then I finally followed my father, turning around once before I got outside, seeing Harry stood in the centre of the dancefloor on his own, his head towards the floor. He seemed so sad. I really didn’t think it was anything to do with missing out on our dance routine. I had to shove him to the back of my mind for the time-being, because our moment had arrived. It was dark and cold outside now, so no one else was around. My dad was sat down on the wall myself, Harry and Liam had been sat on earlier, smiling with pain as I neared him. I didn’t sit down, I just awkwardly folded my arms. “How are you, Love?” He asked me. “Just looking for answers.” “I bet.” He huffed through his nose and shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.” “Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, dad. Because if I don’t have some answers within the next few minutes, I’m just gunna go home, and give up on you completely.” The words felt like toxic as they fell from me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I should have felt a little guilty about it. I thought maybe I should have felt a tiny bit of regret, but I didn’t. If anything, I was being nice. He seemed totally lost. I may have been sarcastic, but even my dad had never seen me being so hostile. It just wasn’t in my nature. “I wanted to give you space.” He began. “I didn’t want to push you because, I knew… I knew how you… I knew how you saw me and your mother. You put us on a pedestal. You really looked up to our relationship… and I never wanted to let you down.” My bottom lip was quivering, and I knew this would happen. Even if my dad had just said the word sorry and left it at that, I probably would have burst into tears. Anything could have tipped me over the edge given how long we had gone without talking, and it seemed he wasn’t going to do anything by halves. “Okay.” I breathed. “I get that.” “So, I didn’t want to force any kind of conversation on you too quickly. Then, after a few months… I knew it was supposed to be me who was reaching out to you. But… I was so scared. Scared of you rejecting me and scared of… Scared of breaking your heart more than I already have.” He attempted to hold himself together. “And the longer I put it off, the worse it got, and the more scared I got. Have you ever skipped so many lectures in a row that you were too scared to go back in because of what they would say?” “No.” I lied. “Okay. I’ll pretend I believe you, but we’re cut from the same cloth.” He chuckled under his breath. “But that’s just what it was. By the time I decided my fear wasn’t what was important here, a phone-call wasn’t enough.” He was waiting for me to say something, which he shouldn’t have done, because I had been biting my tongue for a while, and he had given the perfect opportunity to chew. “I thought you were going to write to me.” I could feel myself getting angry. “Huh?” “When you asked Liam for my address, I thought you were going to write to me.” My voice was shaking. “Do you know how much it hurt to receive a fucking wedding invitation when I expected an apology?” My dad undid his top button and loosened his tie, because he obviously felt like he was in a tight spot, but he hadn’t figured out that wasn’t down to his suit. “I didn’t even think.” He sighed. “At what point over the past ten months did you think, dad? We’ve all been fucking scared! That’s not an excuse!” “I’m not trying to give you excuses, Pippa! I’m trying to explain myself. I know it’s not an excuse, trust me! I just wanted you to know why I’ve struggled so much.” “AND DO YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW MUCH I’VE STRUGGLED, DAD?” I was suddenly screaming. “BECAUSE I DON’T THINK YOU REALISE THAT WHEN YOU AND MUM SPLIT UP, YOU DIDN’T JUST DECIDE TO LEAVE HER! YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ALL OF US! JEN WAS MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN MUM, ME, AND LIAM COMBINED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT HURTS?” He clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word struggled, because this was his bed and he didn’t even have the damn guts to lay in it. Of course, he was scared, but this was all down to him, and wasn’t there to hear his self-pity. All I had wanted was a sincere apology for the way things had been. I wasn’t looking for his explanations and excuses or how he had struggled so much with what he had done. All I wanted, was for him to tell me how sorry he was that he messed up, because he had left our family to try and become happier, and it was us who had dealt with the aftermath and had to clean up the pieces. “I don’t blame you for wanting to be happy, dad.” I forced myself to calm down. “But I don’t want to hear about how hard this has been for you. This… this was your decision, and you’ve made no effort with any of us since you made that decision. Now I have your excuses, I want to hear what the hell you’re going to do about it?” He didn’t know what he was going to do about it, I could see the lost look in his eyes. I didn’t expect him to know what to do, what I did expect was him to finally start thinking about it, and to put those thoughts into action. That’s all I could anticipate from him after he had given us so little, for so long. “I think we should take it steady.” He started. “We’ll… ring each other. Then we can meet up for meals and… you can start talking to Jen and… I don’t know. I don’t want to rush you.” “If you’d had said you didn’t want to rush me in March, I would have understood.” I huffed my humour. “It’s a bit late for that.” “Must you always crack jokes, Pippa?” “Yes.” I told him firmly. “Okay.” He smiled again. “But does that sound good to you?” “I won’t approach you. I don’t want these to be empty words, so if you want to see me, you have to make the effort.” I informed. “I will.” “Then, okay. It sounds okay.” I was getting cold, only just realising how dark it was. I just wanted to go back inside and down a very strong drink, maybe do some shots to make Zayn proud. I figured that was as far as we were going to get that night, and as much as he had frustrated me, he’d also done what I’d needed from him. All I’d wanted, for so long, was a start to rebuilding our relationship. We had that. I was okay. “Pippa?” I looked back up after my momentary glance to the floor, seeing the sorry look in his eye. Seeing that, I wasn’t even sure I needed to hear his apology. His eyes were twinkling his regret, there were lines in the creases and ages of his face that hadn’t been there just a moment before. He felt terribly, about everything. “Hm?” I prompted. “I’m so sorry. I know it’ll never be enough… but I am. I’ll never be able to repay these months to you, but I want to make sure that they’re never repeated.” One tear escaped me, and I was kicking myself for it, but I guess my dad knew more than most how often I cried, since he’d had to put up with it since the day I was born. I think in a way, he was relieved that I cried, because he knew it meant something to me. It would have been worrying if I hadn’t cried, even if it was just a little bit. I quickly wiped that tear away, and nodded, because I was so ready to move forward with him. I was so ready to move on. + + + “MUUUUM! OPEN THE DOOR, IT’S COLD!” Liam yelled. “Hold on, Liam!” We heard her through the wood. “I asked your bloody dad to fix this latch years ago and he never bloody did.” “Mum, you dare start talking about how you need a man around the house again.” I scalded. “I do need a man around the house. I’m rubbish at this stuff and- oop, oh, I’ve got it.” She swung the door open with a look of pride on her face, and Liam pretty much fell inside, kissing my mum on the cheek before he ran down to the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice that he’d been talking about the entire taxi drive back. “Hi, mum.” I smiled. “How was it?” She asked hesitantly, clearly scared to hear my answer, letting us inside and closing the door behind us. “It was okay. Weird, but okay.” “Was Jen’s dress horrible?” She hoped. “Of course it was. She’s got nothing on you.” I moved to hug her, and I hugged her tight. She’d been so incredibly strong. I’d inherited my crying from her more than my father, even though they were both soft. But she hadn’t rang me crying, and it didn’t seem like she was going to cry then, either. She was just handling it all so well and I had absolutely no clue how she was doing it. I was so proud of her. “Oh goodness, where are my manners?” She blustered, pulling out of the hug. “You must be Harry.” “I must.” He smirked. There was something so remarkable about Harry. Two little words, and even I was already swooning. He was just so stupidly charming, so handsome and cut and perfect. God, he was fucking perfect. It only occurred to me in that moment that I actually kind of wanted Harry to flirt with my mother. He would be good at it, for one, and on top of that it was probably the exact little confidence boost that my mother would need. “I’m Lisa.” She offered her hand. “I know exactly who you are.” He shook it. “I’ve heard nothing but good things.” He moved to give her a kiss on the cheek and she was loving it. I felt like my mum would be the only person I would feel okay about Harry flirting with. “Well, aren’t you tall.” She blushed after he kissed her. “Thank you. I’ve dedicated almost twenty years to growing, so that means a lot to me.” She laughed a lot harder than the joke warranted, flapping her hand and rearranging her hair, flirting back with him as best as she could, though she was a little rusty. “You need to bag this one up, Pippa.” She told me. I just awkwardly laughed instead of saying that I’d already made a weak attempt at bagging him up. I felt like saying that would have brought up more questions than it answered. Harry seemed to feel pretty awkward too, because even though he’d been so wonderful to me of recent, he was still aware that he had broken my heart. I knew he was trying his best to make things up to me, but I’d kind of forgotten that it must have been a hard time for him, too. Almost like he couldn’t put a foot right. “I’m desperate for a brew.” I shakily spoke after a while. “Shall I put the kettle on?” We all wandered through to the kitchen, where we found Liam, fast asleep with an unopened carton of orange juice in his hand, his cheek squished against the top of our dining table. Something tugged at my heart in that very moment, because I realised the last time I saw Liam sat at that table, he was just 18 years old. I didn’t even know that the last time I saw him there would be the last time until that very moment. Liam had gone off to university, and he just loved that escape so much, he never came back. Not for Christmas or birthdays or anything. My mum and dad went down to London to see him a few times, but I knew he hadn’t really wanted them to, that’s why I never went with them, because he’d asked me not to. He wanted to be away from us, and I totally understood that. Then he went traveling and he didn’t come back; he only came back when he was needed. I had to question if it was just what he was like, what he wanted from life, or if maybe Liam had subconsciously known about the affair and our broken family all this time, and wanted to be away from it all. Because I knew, the now 24 year old boy who was asleep at that table deserved to be asleep under the stars in a town he couldn’t remember the name of. I was just staring at Liam, though I could feel Harry gazing at the side of my face, trying to figure me out, like he always was. But all he could take in was how lost I looked, so he filled up the kettle himself, and flicked it on. “So what are you doing up so late, Lisa?” Harry chatted. “I just wanted to hear about the wedding. So how bad exactly was it?” She seemed very excited, and I finally turned back to the conversation, because my mum really needed to vent, and I was more than happy to let her. “The DJ played Angels.” I told her. “Every bad DJ does.” She agreed. “Yes, give me more.” “Not an open bar.” Harry added. “I wondered why you both seemed so sober. Harry, why didn’t you drive back?” “We had a few drinks, just not worth the risk. I’m gunna pick up my car in the morning.” “I’ll drive you.” She smiled. “Thank you.” As soon as the kettle had boiled, Harry asked my mum where the mugs were and got to work. I adored how at home he seemed. It was like he’d been there a million times, and I wished he had, and I wished I’d be able to see him there a million times more. “I’ve set up the spare room for you, too.” “Lisa, I’ve been excited for weeks about sharing a bed with you.” He grinned, passing the cup of tea to her. “Well, I’m sorry to let you down.” She giggled. “I’ll get over it. I hope.” “I’m sure you will. Anyway, I’m going to take this to bed, I’m shattered. I’ll try and drag this one to upstairs.” She gestured to Liam. “Goodnight, mum.” I smiled. “Goodnight, Love.” She returned. She attempted to get Liam out of the chair, but her efforts fell flat. After having a good laugh about it, Harry went to help her, the two of them dragging him upstairs, leaving me on my own for a few moments just sipping my tea. I was glad I didn’t come home often, because it made every single visit more special. I just loved being there, finally back in the right house too. Being in that rented house over summer just hadn’t felt right. Standing in that kitchen, the same kitchen I’d taken my first steps, the kitchen I’d cracked my first egg, it just felt right. I’d never loved a place so much. Harry appeared a few minutes later, a dopey little smile on his face as he grabbed his cup. “You and your mum-” “Two peas in a pod.” I finished his statement for him. “You’re not fucking kidding.” He chuckled. “I got her some flowers to say thanks for having me, but I left them in the car because I really didn’t want to go to a wedding with flowers and then be like, oh I’m sorry, they’re not for you.” “You bought her flowers?” I gawped. No one ever tells you how much love can hurt. Love is made out to be an indestructible force, one that consumes you and everything around you. One that brings joy and a kind of happiness that completes you. Unrequited love was the complete opposite of that, because every time Harry even murmured, it physically pained me. I was so horribly in love with him, and I was getting nothing positive from it. All I had felt now for months was absent, hollow, disorientated and miserable. It was so silly, because it wasn’t like Harry being so kind and wonderful and buying my mum bloody flowers upset me. I’d get this momentary burst of happiness just admiring him, then that burst would turn into a sting, almost like the burst was the sound of gun and sting was the bullet piercing through me. “I’m a very good house guest.” He grinned. “And I also grew up with two dads who insisted that if opportunity ever knocked, I should buy a woman flowers. I spoke to Kev and he said this was opportunity knocking.” “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re trying to torture me.” “What do you mean?” He asked. I’d said that without thinking for even a split second. Harry had this extremely confused look on his face at first, but then whilst I was trying to think up some kind of excuse for what I had just said, the realisation dawned over his face the true meaning of my words. “Never mind. I’m gunna go to bed, I’m shattered.” I huffed. “You coming? Going? Well… Are you-” “Yeah. Yeah, yeah it’s late.” He was trying to brush past it as much as I was. “Where’s um… Where’s the spare room?” “Next to mine.” “Okay. Yeah. Well. Okay, lets call it a night.” We both downed our brews in perfect unison, experts when it came to downing drinks thanks to Zayn, but at least this one didn’t have the after-kick we were used to. But I would give anything to have the bitter taste of a shot rather than the bitter taste of my words. We both went upstairs in a bit of a hurry, and I just kept quietly cursing to myself, because that was the only outlet I had until I could go into my room and just scream into my pillow, trying to figure out why the hell my mouth would run fucking wild like that sometimes. I opened the door to the spare room, throwing it wide open for him, trying to be quiet. “Well, this is you, so goodnight then. Goodnight.” He moved so he was stood in the doorway, and once again his eyebrows were low, and it seemed to be a more often occurrence that Harry just stared at me trying to work me out. I grabbed hold of the handle to my bedroom door, but before I could go anywhere he moved to me, grabbing hold of the top of my arm with a tight grip. “Harry!” I gasped. “You remember when I rang you over summer?” He was getting closer to me. “Which time?” “After the festival.” His grip loosened. “You… You ignored me.” “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Why?” “I was… I was going to ask you, if you liked me.” “What?” My eyes went wide. “I was stood at Minnie’s front door. Stood at her front fucking door.” He was panting. “All I wanted… was an answer. Because… Because I knew if you said yes, if you had told me then that you liked me, I wouldn’t be with Minnie.” I’d never felt so sick in my life. I could barely understand what he was saying. All I knew, was that I was finally hearing what I had wanted to hear for so long. I knew it was happening at the same time as not knowing what to expect. My head was a mess. “I… I don’t know-” “And when you told me that you loved me… I was so fucking mad at you, because I knew that if you had just fucking answered when I rang that… we would be together. Now how many wasted months do we have?” My head was spinning. I didn’t think I could possibly be hearing him right because this was like Harry telling me that the pain of unrequited love I had been feeling for so long was actually completely fictional, and that just couldn’t be true. Because as much as I had been hating that kind of love, it was now a comfort zone to me. I was familiar with it. I knew it well and I had learnt to live in it. “I’m confused.” I whispered breathlessly. He went quiet, and as he moved closer to me, I moved backwards. I was totally breathless, disordered by the closeness we were sharing, because it had been months since his face was this close to mine, since I had been able to study the exact placement of the brown flickers through his green eyes. He was quiet for so long, then just before he spoke, he placed his hand on my cheek, stroking his thumb under my eye. “I am in love with you, Pippa. I have been in love with you for longer than I’ve even liked you. I… I remember the exact moment I fell in love with you.” “No you’re not.” I gasped, no idea what else to say. “Last November. I hadn’t even lived with you a month. Me and Zayn… We went drinking, and then we got back and you started drinking with us. You-you drank too much and you threw up. I walked into your room and… and I found you like that and… I helped you. I sat on your bathroom floor with you, and helped you throw up. You were barely dressed, slumped between my legs… sitting against me like you belonged there. You were absolutely fucked, but you were still so witty. You were so funny and so sharp… How could I not fall in love with you?” I barely even remembered it happening, for obvious reasons. But what shocked me the most is that we weren’t even friends, not even close. It wasn’t until February when the two of us started getting on, and he was admitting that it was months before that he realised he felt something for me. Fuck, fuck he’d just told me he was in love with me fuck. “This doesn’t make any sense.” “I felt like I had to distance from you. I felt like you didn’t… want me.” He moved closer, backing me up against my bedroom door. “Because you always pulled away, and then you asked for space and… Minnie… She was like a decoy so I wouldn’t keep crawling into bed with you. And… I was just living out this fucking fantasy I used to have about her but… She’s not you. No one’s you. No one comes close. Even when you said that you loved me… all I could think was… I don’t deserve you. I don’t.” “Why don’t you deserve me?” I shuddered. “I just don’t, Pip. You’re fucking dreamlike. I can’t believe you’re in my life at all, never mind as more than a friend. I’m not worthy of that. I really don’t feel like I… deserve you. But I can’t help myself. I love you. I tried to forget, but I can’t. I love you. I’d do anything for you. I just…” He moved his hand to the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the closeness, lolling my head back. I was piecing together things that I didn’t even realise needed piecing. The missed call, the fact that Harry was with Minnie because he felt she was all he deserved. She was a fantasy he’d had since he was sixteen. He had tried to brush away feelings he had for me and then suddenly I tell him I love him even though I purposefully sent him all the wrong signals. In my attempts to deny my feelings, I created an enormous space between us, thinking I was helping myself, when really all I was doing was turning away from him and shunning his affections. I had literally forced him to think I didn’t care for him that way. I felt like such an idiot I just wanted to curl up into a ball and apologise to him for pushing him away when he felt that we were so close. I gripped my eyes so they were shut even tighter, scared my heart was on the verge of exploding. “Harry, I need you to think about what you’re saying.” I hushed. “What?” “I don’t think… I could survive, if you wake up tomorrow morning and regret this. If you wake up and realise that you want to be with Minnie and that you don’t really love me… I don’t know what I’d do...” “Pippa-” “If you say it again, I’ll believe you.” I stopped him. “If you say it again, that’s it. If you don’t say it again… we can pretend this never happened, and I won’t hold it against you, okay? So please think. Please just take a second and think before you say anything.” Without hesitation, he lifted his other hand and smothered my other cheek with it, leaving me locked between him, pressing his forehead against mine. “Pippa, I love you.” He spoke confidently. “Stay with me.” I demanded quickly. A tear slipped down my face, and he wiped it away as soon as he could. I didn’t want to cry. I really didn’t want to cry, because I felt like all I did was fucking cry, but his declaration was something I had never expected. Ever since I had started university, it felt like things were slowly just starting to go wrong for me. I loved university, but I wasn’t doing the course I wanted, my family had fallen apart and I had somehow fallen in love with a boy I used to hate. It seemed far too surreal that two of those things could flip on their heads in the space of a day. I was okay with the new fundamentals of my family, and Harry was there, his face just inches from mine, telling me he loved me in the same way that I loved him. Surreal didn’t even come close to the truth of the day. “Fuck.” He groaned, tenderly brushing my skin. “I want to. I really… really want to, but I can’t.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t… I can’t be the type of person who cheats on someone.” “So just hold me.” I begged. “That’s bad enough.” He sighed, his hot breath pouring over my skin. “Isn’t this bad enough?” “Yeah, it is! But I can’t take it any further than this. You know now, that’s the most important thing. I just… I can’t cheat, Pip. I’d never forgive myself.” I was so desperate to be with him, even if it was just to have his arms around me as I slept, even if it was just to share a bed with him, I just wanted even more proof that he loved me. I wanted to spend every single second I could moulded into his body, talking to him and touching him and finally just being with him. At the same time, him saying no to me and telling me he couldn’t cheat on her, only made me love him more. Even so, I finally plucked up the courage to return his gentle touch, running my hand through his curls and then softly pressing my fingertips against the back of his neck. “Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry.” He exhaled. “I’m just glad you know. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.” “Harry-” “No. I should have never been with Minnie, and… the second you told me you loved me I should have… I’ve just been so confused, Pip. And… you-you deserve more than what I have to offer. You deserve more than me.” “That’s not your decision to make.” I scowled. “I know that. I know that now. I’m sorry. But, I feel like you’re better-” “Don’t, Harry.” I cut him short again. “You deserve the world.” “Then I’ll make you my world.” He whispered. He kissed my forehead, drawn out, his right-hand clutching at loose strands of my hair, inhaling me as I inhaled him, realising that every previous urge I’d had to kiss him was absolutely nothing compared to the urge I had in that moment. “I love you.” I smiled. “Fuck.” I felt his grin spread against my forehead. “I love you too.” “Okay. You’ve gotta go, I’m dying.” I giggled. I pushed him by his chest so we finally parted, but before he fell back, he pinched his middle finger and thumb against the palm and outside of my hand, making sure we were still touching as he pulled back to me just a little bit, biting his bottom lip as he smiled. “Okay.” He seemed so bashful. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” “You will.” I blushed. “Can I say it again?” “Just once.” “I love you.” He grinned. “Go before I leap on you.” I pushed him again. “Go!” It was so difficult to end that conversation, because we knew we should have really been ending it in at least a kiss. It felt totally bizarre to have finally opened up and admitted that we were fucking in love with each other, and not to be kissing him. He winked at me, and let go of my hand, not looking away from me until he was in the spare bedroom, lightly and very slowly closing the door behind himself. I finally went into my room, and as soon as I was completely safe, I totally freaked out. I tried to do it as quietly as possible, but I was shaking and prancing all over the place and the elation I felt in that moment was something I had never experienced before and didn’t think I would ever experience again. It was euphoric. It took me at least ten minutes to calm down and get into bed, but once I did, I turned to face the wall that stood between me and Harry, tucking the sheets up tight as I stared to where I knew he would be, wondering if he was on the other side doing the same thing. I was in love, and finally with someone who loved me too.

#HAPPY SUNDAY #BB44 #1dff #Harry Styles

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ganymedesclock · 7 years

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An add on to my other ask because I’m suddenly in a Lance™ mood: specifically, Lance is characterized a lot by fandom as super self-sacrificing, and I’m wondering what your two cents are on that?

Well, since my first part of the reply (didn’t know you were sending more) was mostly about how to help anchor character reads in canon, I feel more comfortable talking more about my own read here.

So you have to consider Voltron in general has a thing of… character balancing, just like a fighting game. All of the pilots are set up in a certain way, with strengths and weaknesses. So they have an “ideal” style, strategy, mentality, that their skills are built to accommodate.

For example Hunk literally flings himself in the line of fire to protect his allies all the time, but nobody thinks of him as self-sacrificial, because thanks to the way the Yellow Lion is built, Hunk’s almost never even close to in danger from it. His willingness to provoke weblums, slam into fighters, put himself between the Ark of Taujeer and a scalding acid pit, etc. makes sense because he’s driving the most heavy-armored Lion of Voltron. He’s able to take that punishment, no problem, and that’s why he allocates it onto himself and away from his allies.

Lance is similar, and one of the greatest contentions I have with a lot of Lance fanon is it feels like they don’t look at what are his real strengths. Because a huge amount of fanwork, in particular a huge amount of langst, depicts him basically like a fish drowning.

The Blue and Yellow Lions are Voltron’s legs. Literally. They’re larger than Red and Green, and have a more docile temperament. Again, they’re very literally the stabilizing and supporting cores of the team. Red and Green are both unstabilized- Red by passion, and Green by an insatiable, ravening curiosity and desire for personal growth- she’s the embodiment of change and new thinking so she’s never quite content living the same way all the time. Green is the only Lion who didn’t just awaken a power her paladin didn’t have before, but obtained, and gave to Voltron, a power that hadn’t existed before- Pidge gifted Green the ability to cloak.

But there’s a reason both Red and Green are lighter-armored, smaller, and more vulnerable. That’s the price they pay for their changeable, volatile natures. It’s reflected in their elements- fire blazes up, gutters, dies, and is rekindled. It’s not stationary and it’s not a constant. Trees grow, die, decay, crumble, sprout again. Neither forest nor flame is the same minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.

Compared to that, land and sea have an inherent nature that lives by geological time. Parts of them can change, rage, storm, but the overwhelming nature of it remains the same. The seafloor doesn’t suddenly breach to sunlight.

I mentioned with Hunk- Hunk is the physical, practical defender of the team in a lot of regards. He is often the most wary of strangers, and from the start, he’s the one who airs the question of “Okay, but… do we know for sure we have to fight these people? We might be able to appease them. What are the consequences of that?” and when the consequences mean it’s not worth it, he drops the subject.

Lance isn’t as much of a protector- but it’s been mentioned in official interviews that Blue’s character is the nurturer, the healer, a kind of mother figure out of the Lions. Blue is loving, compassionate, empathetic, and an emotional healer.

And that’s the regard where we see that Lance takes up other characters’ burdens, because he’s best suited to handle them. This is Lance’s area of expertise.

Because Lance talks about his feelings, earnestly. And he does so in a manner that is very effective. He will air his own negative self-talk, but also challenge it in the same sentence.

So I think the problem here is people over-focus on the negative things Lance says and not how much he challenges them. They focus on “Seventh wheel” and not the annoyed way he says Laika doesn’t have to agree with him that quickly, and, “They wouldn’t keep me around if I didn’t contribute something,” or the fact that Lance’s ultimate word in that episode is confidence. Nobody prompted him to make that shot or made him believe he could- he said, with certainty, to Shiro and Pidge, people he worried might not value him, that he could make that shot, and did, and when Shiro commended him on it, Lance’s response was smug. It wasn’t shocked or awed.

Lance knew his good quality, he highlighted it, he was hurt when Pidge didn’t seem to have noticed it about him, and talked about that with Laika, and his ultimate conclusion is “No, I am good at this, I am important, and I can have confidence in my skills.”

Which, frankly, Lance talking shop about his feelings is impressive. It’s something I find very relatable about Lance because I’m someone who tends to try and dismantle my thinking aggressively a lot. If I feel something I want to figure out why I feel that. This level of pedantic dismantling of a cartoon show? I do this with my life. Hell, that’s the whole reason I’m here, is because I got invested in surgically dissecting why and how stories make me feel things.

And that, I feel like, is what Lance is doing, not wallowing in his feelings. Rather, as someone who swims freely in the realm of emotions, these things aren’t unknown to him, they aren’t unstoppable- he doesn’t leave them where they can fester and hurt himself and others. He roots out his own destructive thinking and questions, challenges it. If he’s feeling bad and someone around him even seems to be listening- as the case of Laika who probably didn’t actually understand most of what he was saying- he’ll talk about it.

This is the sign of someone who’s not just emotionally healthy but prodigiously so.

So this all comes down to: Lance is good at emotions. He’s good at his own emotions, and he’s good at other people’s emotions. It’s rare that we ever see him actually get manipulative, but, we’ve gotten a few glimpses that if he was a little less discerning and a little less empathetic, Lance could be as much of an interpersonal mastermind as Lotor is:

S1e1, Lance, having identified Pidge is sorely emotional about Kerberos, casually brings it up in an unrelated conversation purely to observe her reaction. He then, valuing sincerity, drops his uninterested facade and explains why he’s poking her, but he easily could’ve left it up and feigned that it was a coincidence.

Earlier in that same episode, he baits Iverson into chewing him out to distract him from Pidge, something that goes off without a hitch since neither Iverson nor Pidge actually seem to realize he did that.

S4e4 tells us that Lance is the only person out of the team who can act. And he acts well. I went on a big ramble about this but the point of all of Worm Coran’s assigned roles is they’re totally incongruous with who the paladins really are. But Lance not only takes this contradictory identity and runs with it, it’s one that he picked up on his own. So Lance can, without a hitch, pretend to be someone who he fundamentally isn’t. He’s a performer, he’s an actor, and he knows how to make a crowd love him by showing them what they want to see.

Again- these are exactly the type, and level, of skills that Lotor plies to devastating effect in s3e1 and pretty much the only difference between them is Lance cares enough about being sincere to people that he’ll show his hand.

We have seen Lance be more directly “sacrificial”, in terms of his action in s1e4, but looking at that scene…

Lance realizes something is amiss, again, because of emotions. Rover doesn’t respond to him properly, and isn’t following Pidge the way it normally does. It’s acting contrary to its personality- and Lance, in a span of five seconds, with one question, plays ‘spot the impostor’ with a faceless robot he’s known for like two days and hasn’t spent much time with. I’ve cited this before but it tells us quite how good Lance is at reading people emotionally.

And what happened before that?

Coran is one of the first relative strangers we see Lance really open up to, and they have a warm, sentimental moment about homesickness. This is a pretty big deal considering Coran, from his perspective very recently, lost his own home, and had specifically left the party to check on Lance and make sure he was okay, and Lance opened up to him in earnest.

There’s a real, strong emotional connection here. And when Lance realizes that’s not Rover- and they’re in the room with something dangerous- his response?

He throws himself at Coran to protect him.

Remember, Allura stated in s3e2 that the quality that the notoriously hard to impress Red Lion found worthy and noble in Lance is his ability to prioritize the wellbeing of others above personal gain.

That’s what’s afoot here- it has nothing to do with Lance’s insecurity or thinking that he’s less important. It’s that- in moments of necessity, in dire situations- Lance is driven by a clear sense of importance, and a lot of compassion.

In s1e4: Whatever the hell is happening right now he’s not letting it get Coran.

In s3e2: he’s still nursing his own disappointment about being rejected by the Black Lion, and it does hurt to see Keith get the position- but this isn’t about winning. Keith is terrified and upset and feels like they’re doing this to give up on Shiro, and it’s setting off all kinds of trauma and fears of rejection, and Lance can’t sit by and watch Keith be in that dark place without trying to say something to reassure and support him.

And this stays through s3e3- Lance is frustrated with Keith’s decisions, but he determinedly sticks with him and tries to talk him around, never once giving up on getting through to him or holding it over his head when Keith flat-out admits Lance was right all along. His focus is much more on the fact that, again, this all is born from Keith being in an awful place mentally.

And there’s a reason I say with certainty Lance isn’t sacrificial because of low self-esteem, because we can contrast it with someone who definitely is: Keith.

Here’s the thing about Keith’s sacrifices. They tend to be completely senseless. The ones in s4e1 and s4e6 jump out but he was doing this all the way back in s1e11- where he attempts to solo Zarkon and gets his ass handed to him spectacularly.

Keith’s sacrifices are poorly conceived, and he usually has the barest idea that he’s actually accomplishing something. The goal he’s trying to bite off is so comically oversized as soon as he mentions it, you can’t help but go “Keith… no.”

No, Keith as a rookie Lion pilot who’s barely been flying this thing for maybe two weeks tops is not going to take out Emperor Goddamn Zarkon in single combat without any backup whatsoever as Coran spends the entire time trying to tell him.

No, Keith sitting in a standard imperial fighter ship which we’ve seen a Lion’s jaws crush like paper thousands of times is not going to breach the barrier of an imperial battleship when we’ve seen the Yellow Lion slam a much lower-caliber barrier upwards of ten different times before finally getting through it. As Matt was trying to tell Keith.

The only reason Keith survived either of those situations was someone else intervening- Shiro in s1e11, and Lotor in s4e6.

Conversely, when Lance sticks his neck out? He was only heavily injured once, when he had no idea what was coming and had no time to react to it outside of trying to protect Coran, and other times, when he does have a better idea of what he’s going for, he usually will succeed at his goal even if he bungles certain steps (such as s2e2, infiltrating the palace and giving Hunk the antidote). There’s no sense of Lance going headfirst into an awful situation with no chance of success and having to get dragged away by someone else saving him.

The difference between Lance and Keith taking risks at personal expense is the very difference Kolivan in s4 tries to grill Keith about- that as the leader of an organization that deals with frequent losses where members live with the reality their buddies aren’t often in a position to rescue them if they get in trouble, he can tell perfectly well that Keith isn’t operating with a sense of big perspective- he’s taking poorly conceived risks and not worrying about them hurting him.

If anything, I always read Lance throwing himself over Coran to shield him from the explosion as a lot like Lance in s1e1 running up to Allura to catch her. It’s his inherent compassion at work more than anything else- he sees someone else about to get hurt and that stirs him to action faster than his practical evaluation of the situation. Again, in s1e4, it feels more than anything else like Lance just plain didn’t know it would hurt him as much as it did because in the moment he was more worried about Coran. Thinking of himself- and thus, his mentality towards himself- didn’t even factor in.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #Keith #readmore

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jeenatomsonnn · 6 years

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By Larry Cook

One thing that most people love about Southern California is the beaches. San Diego, Santa Monica, and Sand Dollar Beach are some great places to visit any time of year but these also make a spectacular wedding ceremony location. Being surrounded by the cool blue water, sunshine, and places where there is a lot to see within walking distance is something for couples to consider. Even those coming from out of town should be able to locate a Los Angeles wedding planner that will put together a nice package. Although some may have a vision of the bride and groom getting hitched in swimsuits, this is not atypical. The casual environment that is Southern California does not always embody the same wedding formality found in the south but it is a place where residents tend to go against tradition. Even if a couple does not have a bikini body, there are many venues and themes they can request that reflect their personality. Sometimes pulling together a theme that resonates with the couple is easier said than done. These days, wedding themes can be based on personal interests, movie themes, or a local event like Mardi Gras. While anyone from Louisiana may be able to pull this off without much effort, an experienced planner knows there is more to this than serving local cuisine. Due to the growing population that embodies many cultures, planners should be able to navigate resources quickly. This can affect the price and outcome, since having an ongoing relationship with various merchants can pay off. In some cases, those with experience and knowledge can not only spare the nerves of the bridal party but save them a noticeable amount of change. Personalization in decor can be a tricky thing, especially if there is a budget. A couple may want to have a special centerpiece for their reception but these may not be balanced or prevents guests from interacting with one another. If live performances are going to take place at some point, the planner ensures that everyone will be comfortable and safe. There are a few westside venues that are great for those who want nice visuals for their ceremony. The architectural styles range from elegant to industrial and there are also some open spaces in unusual spaces throughout the Los Angeles area. As a person moves further from the water, they will find locations in the desert, along with woodsy places that give a nice Bohemian feel. For those who want the Hollywood experience, there are a number of five star hotels that offer premium packages that include rooftop ceremonies. On the other side of the spectrum, a person can also create their own eclectic experience such as getting married on Venice Beach where street performers and others can make for nice entertainment. The only problem with some beaches is parking is not ideal for couples that have a large guest list, although independent shuttle services can be rented to transport guests. Not all wedding planners are the same, especially in a large city where tastes tend to be different and different cultures come together often. Most couples who use someone to plan their ceremony say it was the best investment because making the arrangements can be a tiresome process. Although some brides may be picky or have seemingly outrageous ideas, the planner is there to see that everything goes smoothly.

About the Author:

Get a summary of the factors to consider when picking a Los Angeles wedding planner and more information about an experienced planner at https://ift.tt/2naHXcL now.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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risabanquets · 3 months

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ii. State-of-the-Art Facilities: Risa Banquets offer a range of modern facilities to ensure your event goes off without a hitch. This includes advanced lighting systems, high-quality sound equipment, and ample parking space.

iii. Personalized Services: At Risa Banquets, we understand that every wedding is unique. Our team of experienced professionals works closely with you to customize every aspect of your event, from the decor to the menu.

iv. Convenient Location: Situated in the scenic area of ECR, Risa Banquets, Kalyanamandapams in Chennai is easily accessible from various parts of Chennai, making it a convenient choice for your guests.

v. Capacity: Our spacious banquet hall can accommodate a large number of guests, making it ideal for big, lavish weddings as well as intimate gatherings.

The Charm of Kalyanamandapams in Chennai

Chennai, with its rich cultural heritage, is home to some of the most beautiful kalyanamandapams. These venues are not just about providing a space for weddings; they are about creating memories that last a lifetime. Risa Banquets embodies the essence of traditional Kalyanamandapams in Chennai while offering the comforts of modern facilities.

Traditional Meets Modern at Risa Banquets

The beauty of Risa Banquets lies in its ability to blend tradition with modernity. The architectural design of our banquet hall is inspired by traditional South Indian temples, with intricate carvings and elegant pillars. At the same time, we offer modern amenities such as air-conditioning, advanced audio-visual systems, and contemporary furnishings.

Comprehensive Wedding Packages: Risa Banquets

Planning a wedding can be overwhelming, but with Risa Banquets, it doesn’t have to be. Risa Banquets, Kalyanamandapams in Chennai offers comprehensive wedding packages that cover everything from decor to catering, entertainment to accommodation. Our goal is to take the stress out of wedding planning, allowing you to enjoy your special day to the fullest.

⦁ Decor and Design:

The decor plays a significant role in setting the mood for your wedding. At Risa Banquets, we offer a variety of decor options to suit different themes and preferences. Whether you prefer a traditional setup with floral arrangements and temple-inspired decorations or a more contemporary look with chic furnishings and modern lighting, we can bring your vision to life.

⦁ Entertainment and More:

No wedding is complete without entertainment, and at Risa Banquets, we provide a range of entertainment options to keep your guests engaged. From live music and dance performances to DJ setups and light shows, we can arrange it all.

⦁ Making Memories Last:

A wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and at Risa Banquets, we are committed to making it truly memorable. Our professional photographers and videographers capture every special moment, ensuring that you have beautiful memories to look back on for years to come.

Your Dream Wedding Awaits: Contact Us Today

Let Risa Banquets transform your vision into a reality. We invite you to schedule a personalized visit to experience our venue firsthand and discuss how we can create a wedding celebration that surpasses your wildest dreams.

Ready to plan your dream wedding at Risa Banquets? Contact us today to schedule a visit and discuss your requirements. Our team is here to assist you every step of the way.

Phone: 081898 21888

Website: https://risabanquets.com/

Email: [email protected]

Your Dream Wedding Awaits: Contact Us Today

In the world of Kalyanamandapams in Chennai, Risa Banquets stands out as a beacon of elegance and excellence. With our luxurious facilities, personalized services, and commitment to perfection, we ensure that your wedding day is nothing short of magical. Choose Risa Banquets for a celebration that you and your guests will cherish forever.

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peniseargementtips · 6 years

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https://ift.tt/2LJ1CtN <div style='font-style:italic;' class='uawbyline'>By Larry Cook</div><br /><br /> <div class='uawarticle'>One thing that most people love about Southern California is the beaches. San Diego, Santa Monica, and Sand Dollar Beach are some great places to visit any time of year but these also make a spectacular wedding ceremony location. Being surrounded by the cool blue water, sunshine, and places where there is a lot to see within walking distance is something for couples to consider. Even those coming from out of town should be able to locate a <a href="www.pryorevents.com/wedding-planner-los-angeles/">Los Angeles wedding planner</a> that will put together a nice package.<br /> <br /> Although some may have a vision of the bride and groom getting hitched in swimsuits, this is not atypical. The casual environment that is Southern California does not always embody the same wedding formality found in the south but it is a place where residents tend to go against tradition. Even if a couple does not have a bikini body, there are many venues and themes they can request that reflect their personality.<br /> <br /> Sometimes pulling together a theme that resonates with the couple is easier said than done. These days, wedding themes can be based on personal interests, movie themes, or a local event like Mardi Gras. While anyone from Louisiana may be able to pull this off without much effort, an experienced planner knows there is more to this than serving local cuisine.<br /> <br /> Due to the growing population that embodies many cultures, planners should be able to navigate resources quickly. This can affect the price and outcome, since having an ongoing relationship with various merchants can pay off. In some cases, those with experience and knowledge can not only spare the nerves of the bridal party but save them a noticeable amount of change.<br /> <br /> Personalization in decor can be a tricky thing, especially if there is a budget. A couple may want to have a special centerpiece for their reception but these may not be balanced or prevents guests from interacting with one another. If live performances are going to take place at some point, the planner ensures that everyone will be comfortable and safe.<br /> <br /> There are a few westside venues that are great for those who want nice visuals for their ceremony. The architectural styles range from elegant to industrial and there are also some open spaces in unusual spaces throughout the Los Angeles area. As a person moves further from the water, they will find locations in the desert, along with woodsy places that give a nice Bohemian feel.<br /> <br /> For those who want the Hollywood experience, there are a number of five star hotels that offer premium packages that include rooftop ceremonies. On the other side of the spectrum, a person can also create their own eclectic experience such as getting married on Venice Beach where street performers and others can make for nice entertainment. The only problem with some beaches is parking is not ideal for couples that have a large guest list, although independent shuttle services can be rented to transport guests.<br /> <br /> Not all wedding planners are the same, especially in a large city where tastes tend to be different and different cultures come together often. Most couples who use someone to plan their ceremony say it was the best investment because making the arrangements can be a tiresome process. Although some brides may be picky or have seemingly outrageous ideas, the planner is there to see that everything goes smoothly.<br /> <br /> </div><br /> <div class='uawresource'><br /> <div style='font-style:italic;' class='uawabout'><br /> About the Author:<br /> </div><br /> <div class='uawlinks'>Get a summary of the factors to consider when picking a <a href="http://www.pryorevents.com/wedding-planner-los-angeles">Los Angeles wedding planner</a> and more information about an experienced planner at https://ift.tt/2naHXcL now.</div><br /> </div><br /> Why Not Hire The Best Los Angeles Wedding Planner For That Special Day

By Larry Cook

About the Author:

Get a summary of the factors to consider when picking a Los Angeles wedding planner and more information about an experienced planner at https://ift.tt/2naHXcL now.

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aishaboudjillouli · 8 years

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Reflection on Lars Von Trier’s ‘Melancholia’ and Darren Aronofsky’s ‘Black Swan’ in relation to FMP

In regards to film research surrounding my FMP focus on the conflict between opposite personalities, I’ve decided to look into these two films. Aronofsky’s depiction of conflict between sheltered naivety and hedonistic freedom within the characters of Nina Sawyers (Natalie Portman) and Lily (Mila Kunis) highlights this conflict effectively, as well as revealing how these opposites embrace one another. Similarly, Von Trier’s depiction of two sisters Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) represents the two different approaches to life, using the end of the world to emphasise their attachment to life and the universe.

In ‘Black Swan’, the story focuses on Nina’s pursuit of perfection as she prepares to play the lead role the upcoming production for Swan Lake, in which she will need to perform as both the pure White Swan, and the corrupted and passionate Black Swan. Already we see a juxtaposition of personalities as Nina perfectly acts out her role as the White Swan, but struggles to break away from her character an inhabit the character of the Black Swan. In this, we see an inner conflict of opposing personalities, visualised in her brief hallucinations where she thinks that she sees copies of her in public, dressed in black as a conflict to her pink and fluffy jacket. Visually, we are being told that Nina is a “sweet” girl, still cared for by her mother who imposes herself onto Nina’s everyday life (dressing her, making her breakfast), evidently the catalyst to Nina’s growing urge to break free from her role as a child. This childlike personality is reenforced by Portman’s performance, Nina’s voice being soft and high-pitched, the way she moves looking guarded and stiff as she’s balances between being frail and unsure to being stiff and on edge. Nina’s room also reflects this, the use of pink furnishings and a stuffed toys linking back to her character. At one point, when Nina’s mother is putting her to bed, she puts on a music box to play, but later on in the film Nina smashes it to the ground. In this, we’re being shown how Nina’s character is a product of her mother’s control, which throughout the course of the film is waning, up until the final scenes in which Nina completes her metamorphosis and abandons this prison of control.

This urge grows all the more desperate upon the arrival of a new dancer, Lily, who, representing the free-spirit and sexuality that Nina lacks, becomes her main competition for the role of the Swan Queen, as well for the affections of director Thomas (Vincent Cassel). Throughout the film, Nina attempts to avoid Lily until a fight with her mother draws her to go out with her. In these scenes, we watch as the conflict between these opposing personalities turns to friendship and experimentation, Lily offering Nina drugs that lead to her transition to hedonistic freedom. After having sex with Lily, Nina wakes to find her gone and is at the studio dancing her part. In this, the conflict returns as Nina finds out she never actually brought Lily home. Watching the scene again, the way that the dialogue is phrased paired with the rapid cuts to Lily’s reflection in a mirror backs up the idea the Nina was, again, hallucinating a counter-self image, reemphasising this inner conflict of personalities.

In the final half of the film, we watch the internal conflict between innocence and corruption as in trying to obtain ‘perfection’ and become the Black Swan, Nina shuns her mother, breaking her hand, as well as stabbing what she believes to be Lily attempting to take her role. These developments of character are visualised by the growing hallucinations Nina has concerning her body, whether that be the loose cuticles that she rips off her fingers, or the growing marks of her back that are slowly revealing feathers. After abandoning her mother, she goes through her most drastic transformation into an actual swan, playing into her later embodiment the Black Swan, growing black feathers as she dances, and finally perfects her role. In this, we see how the two opposites created an inner conflict of character development, resulting in her eventual metamorphosis.

___

In ‘Melancholia’, the story looks at the events preceding the end of the world as Justine’s attempts to ignore her depression through her wedding day and Claire attempts to come to terms with the threat of a passing planet called Melancholia. The film is split into two parts, the first entitled ‘Justine’, and it looks at the events of the first day; the wedding.

Initially a seemingly happy event, Justine’s depressive behaviour comes to the surface as she can’t cope with the facade that surrounds her. Trier claims that he wanted the wedding scenes to look as artificial and ritualistic as possible, not wanting it to be confused for romantisism (LONGING FOR THE END OF ALLBY NILS THORSEN). In this, we are shown that Justine’s melancholic beliefs won’t allow her to see past the truth, as she later reveals “we are alone” in the world. Justine can’t find comfort in this atmosphere as the people around her blindly play along to this, her husband barely noticing her despondence as he attempts to continue the night as planned.

Similarly, Claire tries desperatly to have the wedding go one without a hitch, finding comfort in this atmosphere of order and reality. She tells her sister to “not make a scene” as she attempts to get her to playa long with the wedding. Claire is the opposite to Justine in that she still has hopes in the world, something to feel invested in, i.e. her husband and son. These difference are more considered as the film moves on the t’s second half; ‘Claire’.

In this half, the film shifts it’s focus to Claire, who takes care of the Justine as she deteriorates into her own depression. As she does, we learn more about the planet of ‘Melancholia’ that is due to pass by earth. Whilst her husband and son are excited about this, Claire’s anxieties surrounding the threat behind it carry this half through a series of worries as Claire starts to believe that Earth will be hit. As we watch Claire interact with her family, we notice that a main difference between the sisters is Claire’s connection to life, how she has something to live for. With Justine however, we learn in a conversation between the sisters that “the world is evil”, claiming that she knows the Earth will be destroyed and has accepted it. As Justine starts to improve, talking and seeing with more clarity the truth that befalls mankind, Claire falls deeper into her anxieties, buying pills as a sort of back up plan to “escape”. Once it becomes clear that Melancholia will strike, Claire falls into a panic and attempts to escape into the village with her son, but unable to make it returns, Justine waiting with composure. Their roles have switched, as Justine becomes the maternal carer, creating a “cave” for the three of them as Earth is destroyed.

In this conflict of personalities, we can see how these different situations work with opposite factors, enstilling a reversal of roles that create less conflict and more connection and understanding.

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