violin door

Is it bad that an old man knocked on our door and asked if this was the violin house (when I play with the windows open you can hear it in the street) to compliment my playing and said “It’s so much better than all that rap music” and my first thought was ‘I should blast Nicki Minaj’

‘The Chemistry of Love’ Chapter 2: Unusually Romantic

A new case and some analyzation of love.

  • Featured dialogue prompt from @theresadunn: #14, “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” (from this list)  

“Testosterone, oestrogen, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxy—” Sherlock was cut off by John noisily closing the newspaper.

“Is there a point to this, Sherlock?” John sighed.

“Be more quiet, John, you’ll wake Rosamund,” he scolded. “And yes, there is a point; these are the chemicals that make up love. It is translated by the thalamus. Anyways, it has always been interesting that dopamine plays a major role in romantic attachments, seeing as it is also activated by nicotine and cocaine.”

“Sherlock,” John warned.

“Not to worry, John, I’m no longer interested in relapsing,” Sherlock paced. “As I was saying, Norepinephrine is the adrenaline pumping in my veins when I’m around her; heart and mind racing. Serotonin works as a neurotransmitter and has been known to send people temporarily insane; strange, as it is an important chemical of love.” He froze in place. “All that leaves is oxytocin and vasopressin.”

“And what do they do?” John asked.

“Vasopressin and Oxytocin are both released post-coitus. Though, the latter is a result of orgasm which apparently deepens the bond of a relationship,” Sherlock rattled off, his neck flushed slightly at the explanation. He cleared his throat as a way to change the subject.

“Yes, right, well, that was more information than I needed,” John remarked. Sherlock’s phone went off then.

“It’s Lestrade,” Sherlock told him before answering the phone. “Brilliant! We’ll be there!”

“Should I have Mrs. Hudson watch Rosie, then?” John asked.

“Yes; it seems we have another strange case on our hands,” Sherlock grinned.


“Bloody hell,” John murmured when he and Sherlock arrived at the scene.

“Someone’s channeling their inner Victor Frankenstein,” Molly remarked.

“Are you replacing Anderson?” Sherlock asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Nope, ‘fraid not,” Anderson smirked. The smile on Sherlock’s face dropped.

“I’m just here as supervising pathologist,” Molly told him.

“Mr. Williams was dismembered and sewn back together again; Molly has already confirmed they are all still his own body parts,” Lestrade told them. Sherlock bent down next to Molly, examining the handiwork of the stitches.

“These are too professional,” Sherlock muttered. “Must’ve been done by—”

“An actual surgeon,” he and Molly said in unison.

“What did I tell you?” Anderson asked Greg. “Sherlolly is real.” The couple in question turned their heads back at him. “My theory had truth to it.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Lestrade chuckled.

“Never,” Anderson answered.

“Leave the premises,” Sherlock told him. “You’re putting me off.” Molly gave him a look similar to the one John gives him when he’s 'a bit not good.’ “Fine, you can stay…I guess.”

Keep reading

23 – The Music

Vincent is a musician who has had the opportunity to be in different bands (such as Napoli’s Walls, What do you mean by silence, and recently Médiums). One of the reason we asked him to work on the film was that his musical world fit perfectly with Ernest and Célestine. Another reason was that he looks a little like Ernest and his studio is as messy as Ernest’s house.  

We started working together early. Vincent started working with the storyboard, creating the musical themes of the film. Little by little, melodies were born. At first we need to find a way of speaking together, because my musical knowledge was not really developed.

After these floating conversations, everything went well. We both wanted to give each character a specific intrument. Each time they would appear on screen, a specific instrument was used.

For Celestine it was the clarinet:

And for Ernest the violin:

When the two are together, piano was used to illustrate their friendship.

For one on the scenes we asked Vincent to create the music before we made the animation. Here is the scene as it was written in the script:

CELESTINE (CONT’D)
(showing Ernest her painting)
Ernest, this is winter.

ERNEST (taking up his violin) It would sound something like this.

The musical phrase from the violin follows the blue curve of Celestine’s painting… It is winter indeed.


61.EXT. countryside - day
The musical phrase develops and accompanies the metamorphosis of the landscape from winter to spring. The clouds disappear, the sun comes out, the snow melts, water drips from the branches, grass grows, leaves return to the trees, the flowers blossom and bloom, insects gather pollen and nectar, birds sing, in short, it is the coming of spring that Ernest celebrates with his violin until the front door of the cabin finally opens and Ernest and Celestine appear on the threshold.


This scene depicts a musical transition and was supposed to be a mix between sound and drawing. So we had to draw according to the music as Oskar Fischinger used to work (check out one of his most wonderful films, ”The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”). We asked Vincent to create the melody, simply asking him to make something that would depict the transition between Winter and Spring.

Once the music was made, I went to see the animator so I could brief him.

Roommates - Chapter 5

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

Baz

I called my father before leaving campus, informing him of my early arrival. Mordelia seemed to be excited to see me, gave me a bloody hug and everything. I wasn’t feeling too keen at the idea of a family reunion, so I retreated to my old bedroom, where I took solace in being alone for once.

Every day prior to Christmas I practiced playing my violin. I didn’t want to bring it with me to university, so I left it behind, it was the first time I had planned in months. I was reluctant at first, but my step-mother, Daphne, and my sister, Mordelia, practically begged me to play for them. At times when I was playing, it felt as if the rest of the world melted away; I no longer had an audience, I no longer thought of Simon Snow. It felt like the only time I found any peace.

I asked Mordelia and Daphne to give me some time alone to practice, I was learning a particularly difficult piece, and I didn’t want to have them hear me stumble over notes. After I had been practicing for a half an hour, there was a knock on my door.

“Not now, Mordelia.” I groaned, only stopping for a moment before picking back up. Moments later there is another rap at the door. I breathe forcefully out of my nose, standing to answer the door.

“This better be important,” I mutter under my breath, swinging the door open. The person who was now standing in my doorway wasn’t my little sister, but Simon Snow.

Simon

“What the hell, Penny? This is just going to make it look like I’m stalking him.” I tell her, worrying about this “plan” she has come up with. It wasn’t so much as a plan as just showing up to his house and asking to see Baz.

“No, just ask his family that you’d like to see him. Then,” she doesn’t continue talking, but finished her sentence with a shrug. Some plan, I think to myself.

I’m not for one facing problems head on, I’d rather shut down and avoid the conflict. Penny thought that it’d be a good idea to drive me all of the way out to the Grimm-Pitch family estate, and have me talk to Baz.

“You two obviously have some things to talk about, some pent up emotions.” I nod in agreement, I hadn’t told Penny everything, in case things didn’t work out. I trusted Penny as if she was family, but some things are best not told to your friends, right away.

I didn’t know what I would tell him, I’m sorry that a drunk girl kissed me and I drove you to kiss some random guy, want to hug it out?

What if he refuses to see me? Then this entire trek out there would be a complete waste of time, and we still wouldn’t be speaking to each other. I couldn’t imagine enduring much more of this.

“I guess,” I start; Penelope begins to squeal in delight, performing her own unique victory dance. “But, you can’t follow me, you have to drop me off and come back later.” If I completely embarrass myself in front of Baz and his entire family, I’d rather not have Penny watching as well.

Penny pouted at my condition, but says finally and reluctantly, “Okay. I just wanted to be there when you guys made up.”

- - -

Now, here I am, standing in front of Baz’s door, contemplating whether or not this will be worth the drive out here. Mordelia, Baz’s younger sister, whispers to me before I reach for the door handle.

“You have to knock; he doesn’t like it when people walk in.” I thank her before she scampers off down the hallway. It’s quiet then, except for the sound of my heart hammering in my chest and the sounds of a violin being played beautifully. Was Baz playing the violin?

I rapped the back of my hand against the solid door, waiting for a response.

“Not now, Mordelia.” I heard Baz groan from the other side of the door. The violin playing continued.

I knocked on the door once more, this time more forcefully. I could hear shuffling inside of the room just before the door opened abruptly. My hand was still raised to knock on the door, if need be. I instead ran it through the mess of curls on top of my head; I hadn’t been bothered to brush my hair at all today. Baz cocked an eyebrow up at me, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing here, Snow?” Baz asked me. I honestly don’t know myself, I thought. This entire thing was mad; I should have told Penny that I could wait until he returned from vacation.

“I wanted to talk,” I stammered out, suddenly aware that I was standing in his hallway at his house, we haven’t spoken since he left.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Baz states, beginning to close the door. I throw my foot in the way of the door, making sure that it doesn’t close.

“Basil,” I wasn’t quite sure where I was going with this, “I know that what you saw that night might have looked like I was kissing Agatha-.”

“You were kissing Agatha,” interrupts Baz. I sigh and run my hand through my hair again, this is going to sound like a crock of shit.

“Yes, but Agatha kissed me. I didn’t want to kiss her.” I try to look into his eyes, but he’s looking at me pointedly, and it’s uncomfortable.

“Well, I think that we’re done here,” he turns to walk back into his room and leave me in the doorway.

“I-I was confused, when I saw you kissing that boy.” I say, a little too loudly. I could tell because Baz turned on his heel and gave me a disapproving look, his eyes looked as if they were telling me, be quieter. “But I think, I think I mostly felt hurt, Baz.” I take a few strides towards where he is standing. Baz is no longer looking at me, but at his violin lying on his bed.

What are you waiting for? I thought. If I only take one more step…

Baz does it for me, taking another step to close the distance between us.

“Simon…” Baz starts; I stop him midsentence with an embrace. I couldn’t wait any longer, it was killing me. I wanted the pained expression on his face to melt away, and bring back his smile I so rarely saw. I breathed in deeply and hugged Baz closer to me, breathing him in; cedar and bergamot.

“I’m so sorry, Baz,” I whisper into his chest. Baz pulls away momentarily, leading me to believe that he was done with the hug. Baz cups the side of my face with his hand, and I lean into it. I look at Baz’s face; his expression has softened considerably since my arrival. Without thinking, I lean forward slightly, slowly, not even sure if Baz was at all interested. I was inches away from his face when he finally spoke again.

“Simon, I couldn’t think-I was just so…” Baz stumbled over his thoughts, which isn’t something he usually does.

“My eyes flittered across his face, looking for a sign, something. I could have sworn his eyes were glancing down at my mouth. I didn’t wait any longer, I went for it.

Baz

He kissed me. Simon Snow kissed me. The door wasn’t closed, and I didn’t care. Let the whole world see, because this amazing, idiotic, charming, boy was beneath my hands, kissing me. His lips were softer than Harry’s. I couldn’t believe how foolish I had behaved that night. I pushed all thoughts of the night that caused all of this to the back of my mind, thinking of only the way Simon’s lips felt moving against mine, how soft his golden curls were tangled in my hand.

Nobody disturbed us and I eventually closed the door. We lied wrapped around each other on my bed, mussing each other’s hair, kissing like our lives depended on it. I couldn’t get enough of Simon; I kissed every mole and freckle that I saw on his beautiful skin. There was one I enjoyed kissing in particular, it was right under Simon’s jaw and every time I kissed it he giggled. God, I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this the entire time, that we’ve wasted so much time studying or fighting.

I trailed kisses down Simon’s jaw to his neck, stopping just before the collar of his jumper. I pull away for a second, only to say, “Simon…” but he is already taking it off, before I can finish. Now, I have Simon Snow shirtless in my bed, this has been an interesting day so far.

As I am about to kiss Simon’s neck again, his cell phone rings. I groan and Simon giggles, pulling his phone out his back pocket. He unlocks his phone to show that Penny is calling him. He looks to me and then back to his phone before sitting up and answering the call.

“Hey Penny,” Simon greets her as he puts the phone to his ear. I can’t quite hear what Penny is saying, Simon turned the volume down.

“No Penny, yeah he did. Uh huh, I’m not telling you!” Penny playfully yells into the phone. He lets her talk for a minute before turning back to me, covering the phone with his hand.

“She wants to know what I’m doing for tonight, what should I tell her?” Simon looks to me with hopeful eyes, and I tell him exactly what I want him to do.

“Tell her that you’ll be staying here, with me.”

After Coffee; Chapter 3

Ok guys, so this chapter is the longest, (by far) but it is also my personal favorite. I hope you like it too!

@drawyourtomorrow , @we-were-stars, @nutelladiangelo, and @gampirevampire

Even after coffee, things do not go according to plan.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6)(Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12) (Chapter 13) (Chapter 14)

Baz didn’t mean to disturb anyone with his playing. He knew everyone in the building. The woman next door was constantly over at her girlfriend’s house, (typical) Dev from downstairs worked the graveyard shift, and the old woman down the hall was too deaf to care. If any of them had complained, he would have stopped immediately. If Baz was anything, he was polite.

But now, an attractive man had shown up on his doorstep, looking disheveled and nervous, and the first thing he’d said was “Fuck off”

He was expecting it to be his aunt Fiona. She had been coming by all week, telling him to get out of the house. He was fed up with that shit. She couldn’t tell him how to live his life.

But it wasn’t Fiona. It was a gorgeous boy with blue eyes and golden curls and an intoxicating smile. Baz shut the door.

Simon was very confused. This had been a solid plan. He had even thought of what he was going to say (Hi, I’m Simon Snow. I just moved in downstairs and wanted to introduce myself. Do you, by any chance, play the violin?)

The door had opened, and standing there was a tall, gaunt man around Simon’s age. He had silky, chin-length black hair, and pale white skin. His eyes were a clear blue-grey, like a deep, stormy ocean. He was wearing fitted jeans. Not tight. Just, wow, they fit him really well. Simon was so busy staring at the stranger; he almost forgot what he’d just heard him say. “Fuck off.”

That was a surprise. Had he done something wrong? Were you not supposed to knock on people’s doors? He’d never heard that, but there were many things Simon didn’t know about. Then, all of a sudden, the door was closed, and Simon was left alone.

He wondered what he should do next. He could knock, but he didn’t want to offend the man again. So, he just stood there, thinking.

On the other side of the door, Baz was having a similar dilemma. He could open it, apologize, and explain the situation. “Hi, sorry I told you to fuck off, I thought you were my emo aunt coming to check on my wellbeing because I’m in the middle of a severe depressive episode. Do you want to hear about my many psychological issues?” That wouldn’t work. But, it turned out the man at the door had made the first move.

A piece of paper had been slipped underneath his door. On closer inspection, he saw that it was actually a napkin from a local café. On it, in messy, childlike handwriting, was written, “I like how you play the violin”

Simon was satisfied with this this solution. He had gotten his message across, and didn’t have to risk another knock.

Baz stared down at the napkin. Was that what the man had come to do? Compliment his playing? No one had done that since - well, it had been a long time.

He was still befuddled by this whole situation, but he knew one thing: he wanted to make this golden boy happy. So, he went over to his violin and music, and flipped to a familiar page. He was… nervous. He was never nervous, but he also never had a willing audience. Regardless, he began to play. He lost himself in the music, forgetting about the awkwardness of this situation. This piece was a favorite. Every note melted into the next, like honey in tea. His mother had loved this song, and it brought up memories of callused hands and happy days.

Simon was sitting down now, leaning his head against the door. He liked this song more than any of the ones he’d heard before. He also liked that he could imagine the man playing, now that he had seen him in real life. If he listened closely, he could hear the man humming the melody under his breath, which was even nicer than the song itself. He never wanted this to end. But, it did, with a final, epic crescendo.

Simon felt like he should clap, so he did, enthusiastically. He also felt like the performance deserved a standing ovation, so he stood. Even though he knew the other man couldn’t see him.

The guy was clapping for him. What a dork. However, Baz did feel really proud. So, he took a bow. He guessed that he was a dork too.

Now, they were back to standing in silence, deciding their next move. Baz considered opening the door, but that was a boundary he wasn’t sure he was ready to cross. Simon could’ve knocked, but what would’ve been the point? He knew that the other man knew he was there. So, he did what he had come there to do. He said hello.

“Hi, I’m Simon Snow. I… I just moved in downstairs.”

Introductions. Small talk. Politeness. This is what Baz what good at.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. But you can call me Baz.”

“Ok… Baz. Nice to meet you.”

And then he ran away. Well, he didn’t run, exactly… he walked quickly away. He sped down the stairs, dashed into his flat, and shut the door behind him.

Baz heard him stomp off. Simon wasn’t exactly subtle. He liked knowing Simon’s name. It’s like they weren’t strangers anymore.

Simon flopped down on his mattress. This day had been… confusing, but he wasn’t tired. He was still buzzing, overflowing with pure adrenaline. You know… from the coffee.

that awkward moment when you walk into the wrong practice room and someone else is practicing in there

Originally posted by geekylaugifs

youtube

Love is an Open door.  SO ADORABLE!!!These guys deserve an award

6

Kitty doesn’t get Clyde. [x]

Setlock Recap, 6.12.16


(Thanks to the masses for putting in long hours at NGS to send all these pics and videos and reports back our way! I’ve tried to decipher the madness as best I can, but If I got something totally wrong, please let me know.)

…yet she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did, some scrape, some folly. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident—like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly feel what men felt. Only for a moment; but it was enough.
—  Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway