Tag: wow

tagged by: @padmcdala thanks ❤

tagging: @klausgoldsteins, @arrenemris, @austennerdita2533, @howeverlongs, @gooddame

rules: post a few lines of a wip. (this is a tomione/klaroline au and i really have no further explanations as to why this came to be, lol. some context: first meeting between tom and a vervain poisoned hermione, dragged to him by bellatrix as a gift of sort)

Hermione tried to stay still, force her legs not to shake from pain and fatigue, her eyes fixed on the hybrid; logic told her that she should probably avoid challenging him like that, her glare less than subdued, but instinct whispered that she shouldn’t get distracted, should keep the big, bad predator in the room always under watchful eye.

Finally, after a long careful silence, he spoke to her. “You may sit, sweetheart.”

Hermione blinked slowly. “What?”

Voldemort – just thinking his name in the privacy of her mind made her shiver – raised an eyebrow. “Sit. You can barely stand, and I can’t ask you questions if you’re unconscious or dying.”

Seeing as she was still too confused – baffled, really – to do as she was told, he sighed and turned to his Death Eater. “Abraxas, if you please?”

“Sure, Riddle.”

Hermione felt someone coming up to her from behind, then gentle hands began to carefully undo her bindings with only a soft hiss. Once her wrists were free, the Death Eater took her by her elbow and guided her towards an armchair – the same, actually, where Voldemort has sat just earlier – and she watched him as he picked up the ropes from the floor, his face frowning and his mouth twisted in a painful sneer, before he went away, leaving them alone with the door thankfully open. She didn’t know why she thought that would help her, but somehow it did.

“Now.” Her attention immediately snapped back to the hybrid, who hadn’t moved from his previous spot. “I will ask you a few questions, you will be truthful and honest, and I will let you drink some blood to cure those ugly wounds on your wrists. How is that for a deal?”

For some reasons, Hermione thought that challenging the hybrid would be a good idea. So she swallowed, and said: “I doubt I could tell you anything useful. Aren’t you always two steps ahead of everyone?”

His lips curved slowly in a smirk, and she couldn’t help but tremble.

crossedbeams:

freshprincemomma:

sassy-hook:

pleasant-trees:

aprilsvigil:

manticoreimaginary:

Watching this (and fearing broken ankles with each loop) I can’t helping thinking about that old quote Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels.

But no, if you watch closely you’ll see she doesn’t even step on the last chair. That means she had to trust that fucker to lift her gently to the ground while he was spinning down onto that chair. That takes major guts. I’d be pissing myself and fearing a broken neck if I were in her place. Kudos to her. 

I can’t stop watching this. 

#I watched this for too long to not reblog

Whoa.

Okay so this is true, but a tiny part of a wider truth. 

Ginger Rogers was a FUCKING BADASS. Ignore for a sec the rampant sexism in Hollywood (they once bleached  her hair blonde in wardrobe without telling her beforehand), the fact that she fought her whole career against typecasting and stereotyping from fellow actors (Katharine Hepburn famously said of the Astaire/Rogers partnership “she gave him sex. He gave her class” ) for starting out in musicals, and went on to have a career lasting over fifty years, winning a Best Actress Oscar (Kitty Foyle, 1940). But… JUST focusing on the Astaire movies…

Not only did she dance “backwards” in high heels, the dances were a task in themselves. Astaire was an absolute perfectionist and choreographed for himself, so as a younger, less experienced dancer Rogers came in at a disadvantage and worked her ass off to match him. 

Then there’s the filming complications… these numbers were filmed in ONE TAKE. So one thing goes wrong and you have to start over. Maybe you make a mistake or maybe your dress flies up because…

Ginger had to contend with her wardrobe. Dancing in heels is the norm at this time, but dancing in a dress designed for cinema cameras… not so much. They were heavy, embellished, uncomfortable, restrictive and cumbersome and essentially a third member of the dance, strapped to the body of one partner.Not only did she have to dance and look good, she had to control the dress too!

Take this routine from Swing Time… (it gets going proper at 1:30ish)

This dress has weights, YES WEIGHTS, sewn in to the hem to make it fly out and create a visual effect. So it’s heavy, it hurts if it hits you, and your partner gets mad if it hits him. So you gotta control it. 

Well it turns out all these factors on this set, this particular day aren’t going so well. So you’re doing take after take, here’s no labour laws, so at 4am after 18 hours you’re still going, even though part of the routine requires you to spin up those curved stairs with no rail at high speed….

Okay so now back to those high heels. In Ginger’s autobiography she vividly remembers this night as the night she bled though her shoes. They did so many takes, her feet blistered, bled, and the white satin high heels she was wearing finished he night pink because they were literally full of blood. And still they keep shooting. She keeps dancing.

The take they use in the film is the last. Early hours. Bloody feet. And she spins, acts and bosses out until that last second. Because she was that professional, talented and bloody minded. This is the last set of spins… 

So I say once again. Ginger Rogers was a badass.

She did everything Fred Astaire did backwards, in high heels, wearing a 20 pound dress, exhausted, injured and standing in a pool of her own blood. And watching her perform, you would never know.