#there are so many very detailed emojis i never knew existed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

felassan · 3 years

Text

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source]

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok. What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important. They're like sets in a play. (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source] Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source] There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

#dragon age #bioware #video games #fenris #the Fenaissance #long post #longpost #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #mass effect

259 notes · View notes

retvenkos · 4 years

Text

“so... do i exist in your dimension?”

BEING A SPIDER-PERSON AND MEETING THE OTHER SPIDER-PEOPLE? THAT HAS TO GO A LITTLE SOMETHING LIKE THIS...

so, whatever reality your from, you were peter parker’s sibling - twin, but the younger one

and instead of him getting bit by the radioactive spider, you were

and you know the rest of the story - you got super cool powers, saved peter a few times, you couldn’t save your uncle ben, but you learned to save others. you nerd out with your brother (he definitely understands things you don’t, though) and you survive high school the best you can.

you meet your spider buddies, and it’s immediately easiest to bond with miles

he’s younger than you by a few years, like penni, and gwen, and he’s social - he wants to know all about being spider-man and saving the world, and you’re more open with the details

so, of course, you get major sibling vibes. peter was always older than you, and now you get to be the older sibling, for once.

you want to believe in miles the way that peter believed in you

and when you meet peter b. parker??

you two immediately bond because it’s like you know him

he always wanted a younger sibling tbh

but he’s like the dad to everyone so it can be annoying.

but you are also so ready to get back home to make fun of your peter so hard

“i know who you’re going to be in five years and whoo, that’s rough, buddy.”

“shut up, (y/n)!”

i imagine that you are older than gwen, penni, and miles, but you are a senior in high school or something, so you’re still younger than noir, porker, and peter b.

this is important, because you are right in the middle between the two groups

and adult, but barely

so the older group kind of still sees you as a kid, but the younger group looks up to you to make tough decisions

you definitely have to assert yourself in this situation, but you are probably used to it, seeing as you are the baby twin

and, because you are peter’s twin (and potentially look a lot like him), your relationship with gwen is interesting

you remind her of the peter she lost, but it’s also comforting to know that somewhere out there, peter is safe and was never hurt

it’s hard for her to warm up to you, but you eventually get there

and, because you are at the ripe age you are, you totally pick up on miles’ crush on gwen

and you think it’s very cute, and you definitely tease miles about it

you would have teased gwen, too, but she gave you a look and you knew better than to push your luck

he definitely rants to you all the time, getting your advice on what to say or what to do

and you laugh wholeheartedly

because hadn’t you already done this with your brother?

albeit, it wasn’t nearly as complicated as being from different dimensions and being spider-people, but it’s similar!

and you give the same, vague advice that you gave peter, and he doesn’t take it much better

“she’s not going to turn you down, miles. she clearly likes you, too.”

“are you sure?”

“100%”

and he resolves to tell her

“and if she let’s you down, we can always just spar to get rid of the angst!”

“i thought you said 100%!”

“there are always statistical errors.”

but you are definitely hopping dimensions to see this love struck idiot

he is frequently on your instagram, always with some vague caption that contains way too many spider emojis

oh! and at some point, gwen meets your peter

and she gets a little teary, ngl

the two of them become surprisingly good friends??? then you have to bring peter when you dimension jump

and if peter b. meets your peter, it’s literally the spiderman pointing at each other meme

you just go on a lot of crazy hijinks with the other spider people and it’s cute

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

#spider man: into the spider verse #into the spider-verse #into the spider verse #miles morales #gwen stacy #x reader #reader insert #imagine #would include #headcanons #platonic!reader #platonic #fluff

157 notes · View notes

lovelytsumu · 4 years

Text

‧₊˚✧ ཻུ۪۪ ᵕ̈ ART

chapter 2 — “sunflowers„

sakusa kiyoomi x reader | mlist

is having a soulmate necessary? — a bunch of connected stories.

Soulmate AU; if you write something on your skin it will appear on your soulmate skin too.

wc: 1,3k | no trigger warning

Some days have passed since the first drawings on his arm and the small conversation with his soulmate. Still, he didn’t know where she was, but, if he didn’t want to have a girlfriend, why did he have to worry?

He was staring at his volleyball yellow and green uniform, hanging from a hook on the wall, thinking about the incoming game of tomorrow.

Should he had to tell his soulmate to not draw on her arms? Or it wasn’t that important?

“Hello” he wrote down on his left wrist “Tomorrow can you not draw big flowers on your arms, please?” trying to be as polite as possible.

“Uh, okay, if I can ask you, why?” she asked a little time after.

“I have a volleyball match tomorrow, and I prefer to not have drawings all over me...”

“Is it a coincidence that I’ll go to a volleyball game tomorrow, too? Anyway, don’t worry, I’ll keep my pens and colours down” then she added a smiling emoji, sign that she didn’t mind stopping drawing for an evening.

Sakusa didn’t reply, hoping his soulmate would be quiet during the whole game. He didn’t mind her. Also if he started to properly write to her just a little time ago.

On the other hand, also ___ was enjoying it. She didn’t expect to find someone who gave her compliments for a sunflower drawing. The girl thought a way to thank him in a better way, and despite she promised to keep her pens down for that evening, she couldn’t help it. She was an artist, after all.

— 🌻 — some time before the game starts

Sakusa was patiently waiting near the lockers room, wearing his usual mask and the team uniform. He also had his jacket on, hands stuffed in the pockets. Iizuna came out of the door with some of his other teammates, “The game’s starting”.

___ walked through the hall, there weren’t too many people, maybe the game had already started. Maybe her soulmate had already noticed what she did, maybe not. Pulling her hoodie up, she walked towards the stairs.

Luckily, the game hadn’t begun yet, but noticing the only few seats left, she knew that would be an interesting game.

Honestly, she didn’t know that much about volleyball, it was just fun and entertaining. The year before, when she was in another school, one of her few friends took her to a volleyball game, mainly because her boyfriend was in the team. She didn’t care about it and ignored her almost every time she shouted “Nice kill!” to him.

Also if she had changed school, her habits were difficult to change. She still had the habit of spending some time alone in the art room after the lessons, going to volleyball matches, sitting in a less crowded place during lunch... some little actions that reminded her life was beautiful, also in its bad things.

___ sat in an empty seat, one of the nearest to the corner, most of people had already took the best seats, but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t rooting for anyone in particular, of course, she would have been a little bit happy if her school’s team won.

Itachiyama was literally a powerhouse school in Tokyo prefecture, only a couple of other schools could be considered “a big problem” by the members of the team.

“Is this seat taken?” a girl asked ___, pointing to the seat near her. She has gorgeous black, straight hair, dark eyes and round eyeglasses. She was cute. “No, you can sit if you want” the other girl replied.

“Thanks! I’m Mayu, second year at Itachiyama” she said, smiling. “I’m ___, also a second year at Itachiyama” “Really? I think I’ve never seen you around” “I think it’s because I’m new, I’ve changed school last year” she explained.

“I hope you’re feeling good here!” Mayu smiled. Her personality reminded a sunflower. The sunflower ___ wanted to be. A sweet, caring, smiley girl. “Yeah, I love being at Itachiyama”. The black haired girl couldn’t reply, since the match was about to begin.

“Itachiyama and Fukurodani! This will be an interesting match!” announced the girl next to her. “Do you know anyone who’s in our volleyball team?” asked ___, trying to get some information about those boys. “Well, Iizuna is the setter and the captain, but I don’t know much about him... Then there’s Komori, the libero. He’s ranked as the top libero in high school, and would probably be ranked as one of the best friends a person could have. The ace is Sakusa, I don’t know much about him too, he’s a very reserved person, I heard he hates crowds and being touched. Anyway, he’s one of the top three aces in the nation, so...”

“I heard Fukurodani’s captain is in that top too, but he is in the top five” ___ said, looking at her new friend. “Yep! He is! This will be a very good game. Anyway, did you know that Sakusa has a soulmate?” asked the girl beside her. She just stared at her in the first moment. “Are you his soulmate?” joked then. “Nope, but someone said his sweet half is an artist! Don’t you think that is great? I mean, a talented artist and a skilled volleyball player!”

There was no way that she was Sakusa’s soulmate. Hearing what they said about him, he probably wasn’t the best matching for a person like her. While Mayu was watching the game, where Itachiyama was in the lead for a couple of points, she raised her left sleeve, to reveal a new sunflower.

This time it wasn’t an outline, it was directly painted with the professional colours she uses for art class. It wasn’t big or detailed, but she added a “Good luck” under it. Also if she had broken a promise, she hoped her soulmate didn’t mind it.

During the first time out, while he was taking his water bottle, Sakusa noticed the thing that appeared on his wrist. Another bunch of paint on his skin. He would probably had freaked out, but something stopped him.

“Good luck”.

Maybe, for this time.

“Sakusa? Is that another sunflower on your wrist?” asked Komori, taking his bottle, pointing at his cousin’s hand. “Don’t point at me. It’s rude.” “I see your soulmate really likes drawing on you”

“Yes, I think so too.” “Don’t you hate the fact that someone you have never seen in your life is ruining your skin?” the libero asked again. Honestly, Sakusa has never thought about it. He was expecting that, in a certain point of his life, he had to be paired with someone he didn’t even know existed. The only unexpected thing was his soulmate’s character.

It was strange, the girl the fate paired him with wasn’t one of those exroverted and dyinamic, neither one of the emo-type, if that was a decent term of comparison. She was quiet, but you could notice her. She didn’t write that much, but she drew. A lot. And that was enough.

For this time, he accepted the little gift.

Sunflowers have always been recognised as the flowers of loyalty, fortune and vitality. They’re always staring at the sun, and that’s why they never see shadows.

Point after point, spike after spike, the teams were at the last set of the game. Mayu and ___ were watching and cheering for their school’s team, until Iizuna touched the ball, placing a set for their ace. Sakusa spiked it perfectly.

Itachiyama won the match.

[to be continued]

sorry for not updating this fic, a lot of things happened recently.

🌻 Taglist : @itsmattsunshinehere @dinonerdsimp @mintgrumpy @yams046 @macaronnv

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq imagines #hq x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuuwritersnet #hq sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu!!#kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader

88 notes · View notes

korgbelmont · 4 years

Text

Newsletter 22/01/21

In the midst of the difficulties and uncertainties happening around the world, we're pressing onward to produce books we hope you'll fall in love with. As we continue to support one another within our studio, we can truly say that your thoughtful feedback has encouraged us during these challenging times. While we can't predict what'll happen next, we hope our 2021 books will provide you an outlet to smile, laugh, and relax during these times...

Book Updates

Without further ado, we wanted to take the time to update you on the various books to expect in the coming year. Hopefully, these will answer your most pressing questions!

With Every Heartbeat

Aching for another heartfelt Choices story? We're releasing this VIP book to all players at the end of the month. (Eagle-eyed fans might notice we've even updated some of the main character hairstyles!) Be sure to follow our official social accounts for more previews...

So It looks like WEH MC will have some new hairstyles, I know for a fact that this book SOOOO good, can’t wait to see peoples reactions to it.

Open Heart, Book 3

This February, make the most of your third year at Edenbrook and reunite with your favorite medical crew in Open Heart, Book 3! Will the heart of Edenbrook remain the same in Leland Bloom's hands?

So it looks like they are setting up the plot to have Bloom as the villain and the gang finding a way to get rid of him whilst keeping Edenbrook open. I am still wary of this book, but will see it through as I do believe it is the final book of the series.

#ChoicesCookbook

Calling all food lovers! Our team is whipping up a new dish of choices in the kitchen. Get your pots and pans ready for this exclusive Choices VIP book! We'd love to see you all participate with recipes of your own... What delectable dish can you make with these ingredients? Let us know using #playchoices and #ChoicesCookbook.

So this is a part of their branching out into new genres, I have no clue what to expect, I will keep an eye on it. and see what it’s like

Laws of Attraction

Bring your A-game to beat out the competition in this brand new title set in one of New York’s premier law firms. With high-profile cases and a hard-driving, mysterious boss, you’ll be in for dramatic days… and steamy nights!

So it looks like we are getting another book that’s potentially gonna be on the more... mature side. I am curious to see how this will play out and what the premise is going to be.

Crimes of Passion

We’re hyped for this book, and although it won’t be out until later this year, we couldn’t resist sharing a little peek at what you can expect from this thrilling, unpredictable, and jaw dropping mystery book.

So I haven’t exactly been quiet about my excitement for this book, and this image gives off some SERIOUS culty vibes. Crimes of Passion is definitely my top book for this year to keep an eye on.

The Nanny Affair, Book 2

Book 2 of The Nanny Affair is in the works and will be releasing later this year. Can't wait to find out what's going to happen next? Here's the latest hint:

"We have a lot of exciting plans in the works for The Nanny Affair, Book 2 (and trust me, the art team is outdoing themselves). We don't want to give away too much, but let's just say, you may not be the only nanny in town this time around..." - Megan

As I said before, I enjoyed book 1 and am looking forward to book 2. I am curious as to how it will all play out, by the sounds of this, maybe Sam gets another Nanny in whilst they and MC work to sort out the fallout from the wedding??

Zombies

We know plenty of you have been dying for a zombie book. (Yes, we see those tweets and messages!) Until now, we were only able to share a zombie emoji… But we can make this official: zombies will be taking over Choices later this year, so stay tuned!

So I’ve been playing a lot of Resident Evil recently, and the creatures on the right give me serious RE vibes. I am now curious as to what the premise of this book will be and how it will all play out.

The Royal Finale

As mentioned in our last Choices Insiders email, the final book of The Royal Romance series will air later this year. Here's a quote from the Book Lead to tide you over until then:

"In The Royal Finale, you'll uncover new secrets, unravel old mysteries, and experience new heights of royalty with your family!" - Olivia

I hope the “unravel old mysteries” is in part, reference to what part Jackson played in Liam’s mother’s second child. And with the whole secret society thing, who knows what’s gonna happen.

Queen B, Book 2

You just can’t get enough of us, can you, newbie? Enjoy that high of being Queen B… Because what goes up, must always come down. - Kisses, the T.

Oooh, we're excited! Writers Chelsa and Maya have sent us this cryptic message:

🤫🙈✉️👑🐝🔥❌🎧🐍💋

What do you think it means?

Emojis and I have a terrible history so I ain’t gonna try and decrypt that (leave a reply if you do). As for the book itself, I am looking forward to it, aside from the forced Kingsley romance, I enjoyed book 1. I looking forward to the mystery element and hopefully seeing Zoey get her proper LI treatment, and hopefully see Veronica & Carter become LIs.

More New Books in the works!

We are continuing to work on more multi-gender books, including Blades of Light & Shadow 2 launching 2022.

More books. Yay (in theory (depends what they are))

News about Other Sequels

Many of you have asked when or if your favorite books would continue. We want to make sure we inform the community with confirmed and finalized details regarding sequels. To explain a little more in depth about how Choices sequels are decided, our Head of Content Max took some time to give us that insight:

After a great deal of consideration and discussion, we have decided that officially these series will not be getting additional books: Most Wanted, Hero, Nightbound, the It Lives series, The Elementalists, Distant Shores, and Ride-or-Die.I know this may be disappointing to hear, and the truth is, we’re always disappointed when we have to make this decision. I’d like to share a little bit of our process to help you understand why this happens.

Whilst it is a shame, it is nice to have clarification, especially with Most Wanted & Hero. I was surprised to see that Ride or Die won’t be getting a sequel, but sometimes these things happen. As for It Lives, Distant Shores, Elementalists, and Nightbound, I knew they wouldn’t get sequels, but it is a bit of a heart punch to see some personal faves get an official status of concluded.

About once a month, I, along with a small group of Pixelberry's senior staff, make the hard decisions about which books will be written next. Deciding whether or not we make a sequel is an evolving process that we've refined over the years. But even today, it remains ever-changing, and it's never simple.

So I don’t really know what to say here, it’s rather self explanatory. So, yeah.

Sometimes, we want to do a sequel but the Lead Writer is no longer available because they’ve moved onto another project or even left the company. We've tried changing Lead Writers in the past, only to watch sequels struggle, losing sight of what made the original great. This is what happened in the case of Ride or Die; we simply don’t have the team now with the passion and vision to give fans the sequel they crave.

I saw a post by @thefirstcourtesan that OH and ROD share a book lead and after what happened to OH2, it is understandable what happens, and sometimes these things will happen. As for ROD, it works as a standalone, and I am okay with there not being a sequel.

Sometimes a book is a critical darling, beloved by both fans and Pixelberry staff... yet the player numbers aren't there to justify doing another one. This is what happened, for example, with Nightbound, Most Wanted and Distant Shores; while these books were beloved by their players, simply not enough players were starting them to begin with. And these are the ones that hurt the most. We genuinely love these books, but if they haven’t found enough of an audience with our players, then it’s very hard to argue for making a sequel. Believe me, I can't think of a single writer on my team who isn't passionate about their book, but ultimately we are one company in an extremely competitive space, and we have to do whatever it takes to keep running well. If a Book costs significantly more to make than it brought in, it’s very difficult to justify a sequel.

Again, I don’t really know what to say here, again it’s rather self explanatory. Given how long it’s been since Most Wanted, it was safe to say BK2 weren’t happening.

Other times, everyone online seems to hate a book, but the numbers disagree. It's hard to believe, but your most loathed book -- the one that you feel no way deserved a sequel -- might actually be the one that's keeping the lights on for us. And without those books (and those players!), half a dozen other beloved titles may never have existed. We're thankful for sequels. They help us fund future books and projects to try new things. If it weren’t for the success of sequels to books like The Royal Romance and America’s Most Eligible, we would never have been able to try a risky experiment like Blades of Light and Shadow.

This comes across a tiny bit boasty, but it is kinda true, their more generally released romance books are why we get the big ones such as Blades, and I know people diamond mine the quicker released books for the big ones. So, yeah, I don’t really know how to say it, sorry.

We love our online fandom, and your passion, creativity, and art. At the same time, the most visible parts of the fandom sometimes represent a smaller percentage of our players, many of whom might have completely different taste. We have a vast varied player base, and our job is to try as hard as we can to create interesting stories for all of them.

Finally, saying no to one book almost always means saying yes to something new. And without new there is no Pixelberry. When we said no to Most Wanted, much of that team went on to write Endless Summer. When we decided to stop making sequels to Rules of Engagement, that team went on to create The Royal Romance.

With every new book we create, I hope against hope that it'll be our next hit, the start of a ten-volume series that fans will love and support! Some of them are. Some of them aren't. Either way, I hope you stick with us. Sequels are great. So are new things, and I hope most of all that your true favorite Choices book is still out there, waiting to be written.

The fandom is going to make up a small section of it and at the end of the day, they are a company, so the numbers are gonna be what counts. And in saying no to a sequel, it means they can go on to experiment with new story ideas.

Looking Forward

Internally we've been working on the representation promises that we made in June 2020. We've implemented some new Black hairstyles into With Every Heartbeat, and will continue to add more new hairstyles in our upcoming books. We plan on posting a representation blog in the coming months to share a full update of our progress.

So I am curious to see how VIP players would react to updates to With Every Heartbeat, but I am glad to see representation being shown and that they are working on it.

Last but not least... We appreciate you <3

We’ve seen a rise in constructive criticism in our social channels and want to personally thank you for all of your honest feedback. We read all of your concerns and continue to evolve our thinking and processes based on your feedback. At the same time we take our responsibility of crafting stories very seriously. Sometimes we disagree with suggestions or due to constraints can’t enable changes we agree with, but we do try to improve over time and learn from your feedback.

We also continue to ask that you communicate with each other respectfully. And keep in mind that just like with other parts of the internet, just because someone posts something doesn’t mean it’s always true. To everyone who helps keep our community a safe place to freely share your thoughts, opinions and love - thank you. Your respect and kindness goes a long way, and we are looking forward to spending more time with all of you in the coming year.

We’re looking forward to a great 2021 with you!

Finally, I’m glad that they’re reading what people are saying, it is understandable that there will be disagreements with suggestions, that’s just life, it’s human nature. I am curious to see what will be released in the coming year and how they will play out.

In summary

I had a feeling that books they said won’t get sequels weren’t, especially Hero and Most Wanted. It is sad to see that It Lives won’t be concluded, and I knew Nightbound & Distant Shores weren’t going to get sequels (unfortunately).

Glad to see them making more multi gender books, hopefully we will get more like Foreign Affairs with the different pro-noun options.

I am curious about Laws of Attraction and very much looking forward to seeing how Crimes of Passion will play out. I will post my thoughts and theories as we get new information

Stay safe everyone :)

#playchoices #thoughts and theories #very long post

10 notes · View notes

petitprincess1 · 4 years

Text

My Roommate’s a Demonic Deer Ch3 (1 Week Later)

AO3 Link Summary: Alastor and Anthony watch some TV together and almost get a bit close. Almost... Words: 1,443 Chapter idea was by Bumblebee_97 on AO3. Thank you, hope I did it justice ^^; ~~~ Anthony listened to rain pelt harshly against his windows, making him look at the grey sheet outside his window that showed it was nothing but a gross day. Oftentimes, on days like this, people who worked at his job were able to call out if they wanted to. Business was never booming on rainy/stormy days, but saying that you would never get customers in a porn studio would be an absolute lie.

He decided to take the day off because he had been working for a whole week straight just to avoid his new, uh, “friend” that he acquired. The man was starting to get sore and he could only take so many days of dealing with drunk men or, if they paid well enough, women. Yeah, Anthony was gonna get yelled at from his boss and probably going to get a slap or two, since he’s the biggest moneymaker there, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle.

Anthony was texting one of his friends, who sort of knew about the situation he was in, and sent her a crying emoji and that he was hungry.

Cherri: What do you want me to do about it? lol Thought you said that roommate was getting something.

Anthony: Eh, he was or is, but he’s takin’ ages. Plus, he looked pissed when I asked him ta get breakfast.

Cherri: You know, you never told me how he looked or sent a picture. Come on! Tell me something! How does he look? Is he sexy?

Anthony thought for a few seconds and thought past all the weird shit the demon did like the constant death threats, shadows moving around his house, never-ending nightmares, and how Al slept with his eyes open. Other than that shit, Alastor was pretty-

The front door suddenly slammed open...again and Alastor shouted, “I have brought organs!”

Alastor was pretty fucking weird and annoying and stupid and Anthony hated his hair and existence. He sighed as he sent a text to Cherri:

Anthony: He definitely is...something.

Cherri: Oof. Giving many Fs to you, my friendo.

The mortal just sighed as he turned to Al and then flinched when he saw Al carrying a bloody, brown sack into the kitchen. He quickly scrambled out of his bedroom, almost slipping on the hardwood floor from his socks, and shouted, “Hey, what the fuck are ya doin’!? Also, don’t set that shit on the counter!”

Al blinked at him and then just dropped the sack right onto the counter, smirking at the human. He chuckled, “It’s what I said it was, ethel! Organs!”

Anthony ran his hands through his hair, really trying not to rip it out, and sighed heavily, “Ok! I meant what or whose organs are those, ya dumbfuck!”

The radio demon tilted his head and gave an odd staticky purr, walking closer towards the human as his eyes turned to radio dials, “Are you sure you wish to know? I’ll give you extreme detail of what happened, but I will warn you that it is not for the faint of heart~”

Anthony moved away from the demon, until he was backed against the wall. He gulped and laughed nervously, “Heh...no. I’m good. Ya do whatevah ya like.” Alastor’s eyes turned back into regular pupils and he looked down at him with an unimpressed stare, huffing, “Wise choice…”

Once the demon walked away to go back to the...whatever it was that he had in that thing, Anthony went back to his bedroom as silently as he could and went to go check on his phone. He saw three new messages from Cherri.

Cherri: Hey, yo, I was just joking.

Cherri: Come on, man, you ain’t mad, right? Unless your new roommate is cutting you up into little pieces, lol.

Cherri: Shit, I gotta go. Got work. Let me know when he’s done killing you, dude.

Anthony sighed at missing talking to really the only person he can talk to without judgement or wanting to fuck or looking for some score. He got up from his bed, looking at the rain, and figured that he couldn’t just walk away from this madness, so he just decided to watch TV.

The human went back into the living room/kitchen and saw that what Alastor was pouring out of his bags...was just everyday meats like pork, chicken, and even bacon. Anthony blinked at what he was taking out and shouted at Al, “Wha- What! Why didja-”

The radio demon looked over his shoulder to the human and had an even bigger grin on his face, “What? Did you expect other kinds of organs? You’re so silly, Tony! Hahahaha!”

Anthony stared at the demon, wishing that he could just burn a hole to the back of his head, and he ended up typing a reply to Cherri.

Anthony: I fucking hate this guy. ~~~ After breakfast, Anthony was just watching Netflix in the living room, not really paying attention to the scary movie. He didn’t even really read the name or what it was about, he just liked going in blind when it came to horror films. Although, it was proving to be just some slasher flick, not even that great of a killer. The people that the killer was getting were fucking stupid anyway. They were- “Making too much noise. Of course he’s easily able to slaughter you, such annoying catches. If anything, cutting or burning the tongues would be quite merciful.”

The mortal jumped at seeing the radio demon sitting close to him and asked, “When didja get over here?”

Alastor narrowed his smile a bit, making Anthony know that he was going to hear some sarcastic comment...and then made him wonder how he knew what Al’s smiles meant. The demon mocked, “My, you are full of boring questions today.”

The human gave a tired groan and just shook his head, not really wanting to bother with the demon and trying to understand him fully. However, it did hit him when he was critiquing the murderer in the movie. It felt less like someone judging the tropes or cliches and more like someone who has had experience. Granted, Anthony couldn’t judge too harshly, considering the family he came from, but...it just felt different. Especially since he didn’t feel like he could die with them.

Anthony took a deep breath and just went back to watching the tv, not really wanting to egg the man on. ~~~ He wasn’t sure when or who started it, but him and Alastor somehow had scooted closer to each other. They were still watching slasher and horror flicks, but it wasn’t like he was afraid of anything that was happening on the TV. Yet, here he was, right next to the demon that probably could rip his liver out. Hell...that could be why he moved so close to him. Although, the man was very nice to lean up against. A nice warmth came off of him and he smelt like nice cologne...with a mixture of raw meat, but that's fine...ish.

Alastor was mumbling to himself about certain scenes that were going on. Sometimes it was about what he would do or correcting the killer’s behavior or even flat out complaining about the whole thing. Normally, Anthony would hate people talking during a movie, but he oddly found it interesting and comforting. Plus, he wanted to ask him something.

Anthony looked up at Al and questioned, “Uh...yeah, Al, do...uh...were ya human once?”

Alastor didn’t seem to notice the closeness, still looking ahead, but he still responded, “Why, yes, I was.”

“When didja die?”

“1930s, dear boy.”

Anthony gulped as he shifted a bit in the chair and then asked what he had been thinking, “Uh...wh-what didja, uh...do ta...ya know, end up in Hell or as a demon or whatevah?”

Alastor blinked, seeming as if he was coming back into reality, and then looked down at the human. Tony thought that he was about to have a heart-to-heart with the demon, but then the deer boy started, “Anthony…”

The mortal answered, “Uh, yeah…”

The demon took a deep breath and grinned scarily wide, lowering his voice and tone laced with static, “Can you tell me why you are sitting so close and touching me?”

“I-Is that a p-problem?” He asked as he lowered himself against the couch cushion and let out a small whimper. Black tentacles raised behind the demon as he tilted his head, bending his neck at an unnatural angle, and he growled deeply, “Yessss…”

He hated and was terrified of his roommate. Cherri help….

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #human au #human angel dust #alastor the radio demon #alastor #radiodust #hazbin hotel au #fanfiction #my writing #writing #writers on tumblr #hazbin

112 notes · View notes

freudensteins-monster · 5 years

Text

Avengers Assemble

I finished this fic I started around June 2017 after seeing THIS POST for the first time.

Also posted over on AO3.

Tony was the first to notice that something was up with Darcy, though he didn’t understand what it meant at the time. He’d wandered out of his lab at a little after three in the morning and registered a humanoid shape curled up on the couch in Lab 7. A closer inspection revealed a mess of brown hair spilling out from under a purple coat, and he just figured Darcy had decided to crash at the tower after a long night sciencing with Jane and wanted to avoid a commute cutting into time better spent asleep. Not something she’d ever done before (she usually crashed on the couch in Jane and Thor’s apartment a few floors down) but he wasn’t exactly in a position to comment on other people's life choices, so just left her to it. Though he did place a wake up call with JARVIS on her behalf so she had a chance to get cleaned up before the first scientists showed up in a few hours. Never let it be said that he wasn’t a benevolent overlord.

Clint was the first to notice that something was terribly amiss, though it took him until he finished his first pot of coffee to figure it out. To be fair to the archer, he had only just stumbled out of bed following a solid twelve hour post-mission nap; people in comas slept lighter. Regardless, Natasha was going to kick his ass for being so off his game if she found out. ...when she found out.

He stared into the empty glass carafe pondering the futility of existence and why his coffee tasted off. True, he was no connoisseur and would drink anything as long as it was hot and black, or even lukewarm and black, but there was something off about this particular pot of coffee, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that insisted that some key flavour profile was missing…

“Donuts,” he mumbled groggily, wandering around the kitchen island in sweats and a grubby t-shirt, scouring the countertops as if a large white box of cinnamon-covered goodness could somehow be hiding in plain sight. “JARVIS,” he called out when his thorough search failed to yield any donuts.

“Yes, Agent Barton?”

“It’s Friday, right?”

“Friday the 12th to be precise.”

“Huh…”

“Is everything alright, Agent Barton? Have you lost time? Should I call for medical assistance?”

“No, nothing like that JARVIS. But, um, did Darcy call out sick today?”

“Miss Lewis arrived at the tower at 12:16am this morning, and has been working at her desk since 7:53am.”

“What? Why?” Clint demanded.

“She did not tell me, and I had no grounds on which to ask. Her security clearance allows her access to Doctor Foster’s laboratory 24hrs a day.”

“Right…” Clint mused. It wasn’t implausible that Darcy was working weird hours, and yet… “Was Foster in the labs with Darcy all night?”

“Doctor Foster returned to her suite at a very reasonable 9:26pm and returned to the laboratory floor at 8:04am.”

Clint’s brow crinkled in thought as he waited for the carafe to refill, considering all possible reasons for the change in Darcy’s routine but, call him a pessimist, none of them were good. He worked through his second pot of coffee while he showered and dressed, returning the empty carafe to the kitchen before seeking Darcy out.

When he reached the lab floor and saw Darcy sitting in front of her computer, her heavy-handed makeup reminding him uncomfortably of his mother. He tried to ignore the coil of anxiety in his belly, smiling as he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“Morning Darcy-Lou.”

Darcy flinched at his overly cheerful greeting and the coil in his gut snapped from the tension.

“Hey Clint,” she replied shakily, keeping her eyes glued to her screen. “What brings you up here?”

“Well, it’s Friday and I couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of baked goods in the kitchen,” he teased, studying her every move.

“I didn’t have time,” Darcy snapped.

“Whoa, it’s cool,” Clint put his hands up in surrender. “You don’t owe us donuts, it’s just that it’s a break in your routine and it makes my spy senses go all tingly. Everything alright?” he asked kindly, noting the way she refused to meet his gaze.

“I’m fine,” Darcy replied with an edge of forced cheerfulness. Clint fake-smiled back.

“Alright, well, I can’t stop thinking about donuts so I’m going to head down to the bakery on the corner and grab a box. You want me to bring you back anything?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” she repeated absently, fixing her gaze back on her screen.

“See you ‘round, Darcy-Lou,” Clint waved as he headed to the bank of elevators. His smile faded away as the doors closed and he asked JARVIS to take him to the nearest Security office.

Jane was the first to get the truth from Darcy, if you didn’t count Clint reading their lips off the security feed.

“Shit!” Darcy muttered and threw her phone down in disgust.

The sound broke Jane’s train of thought. She blinked for the first time in twenty minutes and registered the complete and utter absence of background noise.

“Darcy…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not playing music,” Jane, she of three degrees, finally noticed at 11am.

“Um, no. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Then why aren’t you playing your ‘Super Chill’ playlist? You always play music.”

“I guess I didn't feel like it.”

“Are you sick?”

Jane rushed over and placed a hand on Darcy's forehead so forcibly it gave her assistant whiplash. Darcy tried to squirm out of Jane’s grasp and when the astrophysicist’s hand brushed against her cheek she winced.

“Darcy!”

“I’m fine, Jane,” Darcy swore, turning her bruised face away.

“You’re not fine,” Jane replied, twisting Darcy’s office chair around until she had to face her. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Darcy grumbled stubbornly.

Jane knelt down in front of her best friend, clasping her hands tightly.

“Please tell me what happened, Darcy. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help…” Darcy started, tearing up.

“Are you sure? What about Thor? Or me, Thor, and a puppy?”

That got a watery chuckle. “I wouldn’t say no to a puppy.” Jane stayed where she was, eyes growing cartoonishly large as she implored her friend to open up. Darcy relented with a sigh. “You know how my roommate practically moved her boyfriend in without running it past me first?”

“I vaguely recall you complaining about him for three days straight last month.”

“Yeah, well, it hadn’t been too bad. I’m hardly ever there and when I am they pretty much stay holed up in her bedroom, so it’s been whatever. But my roommate has been away for most of the week for some work conference and has left her boyfriend behind unsupervised.”

“What did he do?” Jane asked, trying to keep her tone even and not let her imagination wander into dark corners.

“First he was just obnoxious, taking over the living room, playing Call of Duty until four in the morning, leaving empty takeout containers everywhere. And then…” she sniffled.

“And then…”

“He started hitting on me. Just straight up eggplant emoji level of subtlety, you know. I said no, obviously. Told him to back off or I’d tell his girlfriend. That seemed to work; he went back to inconsiderate roommate mode. But I didn’t want to be alone with him any more than I had to be so I called up some girlfriends from college and we went out for drinks last night. It was Ladies Night at my favourite bar; half price margaritas. And maybe I had too many drinks for a work night...”

“Darcy,” Jane interjected. “What happened when you got home?”

“He was still up playing Call of Duty. The second he saw me stumbling towards the kitchen for a glass of water he started circling me like a vulture. He got handsy, tried to herd me towards the couch.”

“Please tell me you tased him,” Jane begged.

To her relief Darcy nodded. “And then I just ran. The next thing I knew I was on the train headed for Manhattan so I came back here. I crashed on the couch and JARVIS woke me up when it was time to start work.”

Jane processed Darcy’s story, but there was a detail missing. “How did you get that bruise on your face, Darce?”

“He... kinda slapped me.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, he was trying to grab me, and then he was flailing about from 50,000 volts to the chest, and I was still within arms reach so I caught a fist to the face. It wasn’t like he punched me on purpose or anything.”

“No, of course not. He only tried to force himself on you while you were drunk.”

“Yeah, that,” Darcy sniffled miserably.

“Did you tell your roommate what happened? Is she going to kick him out?”

Darcy laughed, short and cold. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but he must have called her last night as soon as he stopped twitching. I had a text waiting for me when I woke up saying she wanted me gone by the time she got back tomorrow. Apparently in his version of events my drunk ass hit on him and got violent when he, honest and faithful boyfriend that he is, turned me down.” Darcy to swipe irritably at her wet cheeks and blow her nose. “So I’ve spent all morning trying to find a new place, and the last hour texting this asshole, trying to get him the fuck out of the apartment so I can go get my stuff, but he’s demanding a face to face. Says he’s sorry and wants to apologise, but more likely he just wants to make sure I’m not going to correct his story. … I can’t be alone with him, Jane,” she cried anew.

“And you won’t have to be,” Jane swore handing her another tissue. Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by her name flashing in large, bright blue letters on a holographic whiteboard on the other side of the lab.

JANE

TAKE DARCY TO LUNCH

WE’LL HANDLE IT

- CLINT

Jane quickly sent a grateful smile to the nearest security camera before turning her attention back to Darcy.

“Hey, how about we forget about that asshole for a couple of hours. We’ll grab something to eat then come back here and figure out a plan of attack, okay? I’m not going to let you do this alone,” she promised, standing up and offering up a rare hug that Darcy was all too happy to accept.

“Thanks, Janie.”

They grabbed their bags and headed for the elevator bank arm in arm. “So, where do you want to go for lunch?” Darcy asked.

“How about Sadelles? I think today calls for matzo ball soup like bubbe used to make.”

“And bagels.”

“And Bloody Marys.”

“And a double cheeseburger,” Darcy sighed hungrily.

“Whatever you want,” Jane laughed as the doors to Elevator 1 closed behind them.

A few floors away the doors to Elevator 2 opened onto the communal Avengers floor and Clint stepped out into a room full of antsy superheroes. Tony was seated at the nearest table sucking down on some radioactive looking smoothie while Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Thor were standing at half-assed attention awaiting orders.

“Since when are you calling Assembles?” Steve queried casually, not at all paranoid that he was being kept out of the loop on something important.

“Yeah, and since when do we do mission briefings in the breakfast nook?” Tony asked.

“Darcy needs our help,” Clint announced, pausing long enough for everyone to get the wrong idea.

“Where is she?” Thor boomed. “Is Jane with her?”

“Who’s got her?” Bucky demanded, already unsheathing one of the innumerable knives on his person.

“Whoa! Everyone, stand down. Jane and Darcy are fine. They’ve gone to lunch.”

The silence was deafening.

“So… they need help paying the tab? Because I’m pretty sure I already do that.” Tony snarked.

“No, listen,” Clint tried to explain over five riled up superjerks. “Long story short: Darcy’s roommate’s out of town, her boyfriend stayed behind and he’s been making Darcy uncomfortable, to say the least. Last night Darcy came home drunk and he tried to take advantage of the situation. She tasered him and came here.”

“Shit,” Tony mumbled. “I was wondering why I found her crashed out on the lab couch at 3am. I just thought she had Jane had pulled an all nighter or something.”

“Is she okay?” Steve asked.

“She’s mostly rattled, a little bruised, and by the time she gets back from lunch I think she’s going to move onto being plain furious. She wants to get the hell out of that apartment but the guy’s refusing to leave, practically holding her stuff hostage until she agrees to talk to him.”

“Like hell she’s going back there,” Sam swore. “What’s the address?”

Clint smiled as the rest of the assembled Avengers quickly got on the same page. Tony rose from his seat, tapping away on his phone.

“JARVIS has called up a couple of cars for you and plugged Darcy’s address into the GPS. One of the maintenance guys should meet you down there with some moving boxes.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m going to attack this from a different angle,” he replied cryptically, leading the way to the elevators.

Half an hour later two large black SUVs pulled up out the front of an apartment building in Brooklyn and 60% of the Avengers current lineup got out. They ignored the curious stares and frantic fumbling for phones going on around them and headed up to Darcy’s apartment, arguing amongst themselves about the best approach. In the end Sam, declaring himself the most normal human and least well-known of the group took the lead, insisting the others stay out of sight while he tried the two rational adults approach, where one of the adults totally doesn’t want to kick the other adult’s ass. It was not his most believable performance.

“Hey man, I’m Sam,” he greeted gruffly when the door finally opened, his intimidating-outside-of-the-Avengers arms crossed over his impressive-outside-of-the-Avengers chest. “Darcy sent me to pick up her stuff.”

The door was slammed in his face and Clint shoved his way to the front of the line.

“C’mon asshole,” he called, banging on the door. “Let us grab Darcy’s things and we’ll get out of your hair.”

The asshole in question yanked the door open and, not that he knew it at that moment, cursed out a couple of Avengers. “If the bitch wants her stuff back she can damn well come and get it herself and stop sending wannabe gym rats to do her dirty work.”

“Gym rats?” Clint’s much-broken nose tried to wrinkle in confusion.

“Enough of these games,” Thor growled, pushing Sam, Clint, and the door out of the way.

“What the hell!” the asshole squealed as broken shards of the door and a 7ft tall Norse god came at him with avengence..

“You dare to tarnish Lady Darcy’s honour? To lay your unworthy hands upon her?!” he roared, stopping just short of grabbing him by the throat and pinning him against the wall. Humans were rather fragile, or so he was often reminded.

“What… what… who?” the asshole stuttered, his mind on the fasttrack to a psychotic break as the rest of the Avengers followed Thor into the apartment.

“You hurt Darcy, we hurt you,” Bucky translated, taking up sentry duty by the broken door in case the asshole tried to make a run for it.

Sam and Steve glared at the asshole on their way to Darcy’s bedroom (Clint had pointed it out, having been there once before when he’d been bribed into help Darcy move in almost a year ago) while Clint headed for the kitchen. Thor thought the best use of his time was to remain looming over the guy until he wet himself.

“Ooh! Cranberry Kitchenaid. Definitely Darcy’s. She wouldn’t shut up about this thing,” Clint mused to himself as he boxed it, and all novelty baking and cookware items he could find, up.

Thor soon got bored and wandered around the small living area. “Does this belong to Lady Darcy?” he enquired, lifting up a three seater couch like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t think so.”

Thor dropped it from three feet up and took no small amount of pleasure in the way the asshole flinched.

“What the hell…” he muttered to himself several times before finding his voice. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!”

“1. Not your apartment. 2. We told you: we’re here to get Darcy’s stuff, since you were being an asshole about it.”

“But… you’re the Avengers.”

“Yeah, and we’re here to grab Darcy’s stuff and put the fear of Norse gods into you. Keep up,” Clint replied, turning his attention to the contents of the refrigerator now that he had collected everything from the kitchen cupboards that seemed like it belonged to Darcy (shot glasses from a bar in New Mexico, a Culver U coffee mug, a collection rainbow-handled utensils…).

“But you’re the Avengers.”

“…did you seriously not know that Lewis was besties with Thor? Lewis. Darcy Lewis,” Clint clarified when he received only a blank, stunned stare in reply. “Jesus H Christ… You’ve seriously never even had a conversation with her, have you?” Clint spat, abandoning his hastily assembled sandwich in disgust only to pick it back and continue eating; it wasn’t the sandwich’s fault.

“What about this television?” Thor asked, ripping the thing right out of the wall.

After a pointed moment Bucky voted, “Leave it. Stark’ll buy her a better one.”

“Everything okay out here?” Sam asked, regarding Thor’s attempt to remount the TV into the recently made hole in the wall with feigned disinterest.

“All good.”

“You gonna make yourself useful, Barnes?” Sam griped, dragging a suitcase crammed full of Darcy’s wardrobe contents towards the door.

“I am being useful,” Bucky countered, pulling a whetstone from his tac suit and glaring at the asshole as he slowly dragged his favourite knife across it.

“Real helpful,” Sam muttered, heading back to the bedroom.

Clint finished off his sandwich and had a quick look around the shared bathroom. He nabbed a few of the products that looked expensive and/or smelled like Darcy, but everything else looked easily replaceable. He added the bottles to his kitchen box and called out to the rest of the team, “We done yet?”

“Almost,” Steve called back, tossing another huge suitcase from the depths of the bedroom to Thor who caught it easily. He followed Sam out, carrying two boxes to Sam’s three, who was struggling under the weight of Darcy’s innumerable books and assorted knickknacks but refused to admit within earshot of Bucky that he needed help. Steve passed off his boxes to Bucky and indicated that the rest of the team should head out. Bucky grabbed the second suitcase and tucked it under his metal arm, beaming obnoxiously at Sam as he passed him in the hallway.

Steve meanwhile made his way over to where the asshole was still cowering against the wall. “I know it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: you contact Darcy again, you so much as breathe in her direction, I will have my friend Carol take you into outer space, except she doesn’t use a spaceship, and we see how long it takes for your head to explode. ...Got it?”

“Captain America is threatening me?”

Steve gave the asshole his patented USO smile, “Yeah, but no one would ever believe you.”

The asshole could only nod mutely as Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, exited the apartment and closed what was left of the door behind him. Two seconds later his cell phone rang. He was still in shock and couldn’t remember answering it, but the next thing he knew his phone was on speaker and someone was addressing him.

“Is this the asshole currently trembling in Apartment 4C.”

“Uhhh…” the asshole’s brain flatlined as the man on the other end of the phone rattled off information that could only have been obtained through a very thorough background check.

“... the asshole whose Social Security Number is 498619842? The asshole who got busted for pot possession in 2015 and 2017? The guy who spent the night of his 15th birthday buying several porn subscriptions on his mother's credit card then let her think that some stranger had stolen it and racked up the charges?”

A very, very thorough background check.

“How…”

“This is Tony Stark. Just a courtesy call to let you know that I now own the apartment you’re currently squatting in. Actually, I own the whole building. And my people have already been in contact with your girlfriend and advised her of a little clause that I’ve added to the lease: if she wants to resign next month, you are not allowed to live with her - and I will know if she violates the terms of her lease. So that’ll be a fun conversation for you. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I mean, what woman in her right mind would choose a cheap, rent controlled, fully renovated apartment in New York City over a cheating boyfriend slash burgeoning rapist?”

The call disconnected around the same time the asshole’s legs gave out and he became a puddle of terrified goo on the floor.

Darcy returned to the tower after an epic two hour lunch date with Jane feeling much better about the last twelve and a bit hours, and was ready to hand the asshole his ass. But with Jane coming back to the apartment with her after work, distracting him with the kind of vitriol she usually reserved for old white men who were tightfisted with university grant money, Darcy was confident she should be able to get in and out without too many hassles (or assault charges).

“82nd floor, if you please JARVIS,” Darcy instructed as they stepped into the elevator.

“If you’ll indulge me, Miss Lewis, I’ve been instructed to take you to the 54th floor.”

“That’s one of the residential floors,” Jane realised. “Isn’t that floor still under construction?”

Before JARVIS could answer the elevator doors opened to an impatient Tony Stark.

“Minions, follow me.”

“What’s going on, Tony?” Darcy demanded as her boss’s boss led them through a bare hallway painted base coat white.

“Heard you were in need of a place to crash, so I thought I’d give you an apartment.”

Before either of them could determine how much Tony knew, and how he knew it, he stopped in front of a seemingly random door and threw it open.

“Surprise!!”

“What the fuck!” Darcy shouted, not that she could hear herself over the carousing of half the Avengers line up. “What the fuck?” she repeated when the noise died down.

“Well, Clint here gave us a quick rundown of what happened - we’re glad you’re alright, by the way.”

“But how did you know?”

“Donuts,” Clint teased, earning confusing glances from everyone not in on the joke. “Well, donuts and security cameras.”

“Clint sent me a message on one of Tony’s hi tech whiteboards while I was talking to you,” Jane admitted. “He told me to take you to lunch but I had no idea they were going to do this.”

“But what is all this?”

“This is your stuff,” Clint grinned doing his best Vanna White at the small collection of boxes and suitcases.”

“We paid the scoundrel a visit he won’t soon forget and liberated your belongings so you needn’t see him again.”

“We pretty much cleaned out your bedroom, but left the furniture. Sam said it was all just IKEA stuff so it probably didn’t hold much sentimental value,” Steve explained.

“It didn’t,” Darcy assured him, almost moved to tears by their actions.

“So, I know this place looks pretty bleak right now, but I promise it’s liveable - water and power have been hooked up, and I’ve got a basic bed being delivered in the next hour or so you don’t have to sleep on the floor. And Pepper will be in touch sometime this afternoon to set up a meeting with her interior designer so you can Darcy it up however you like on my dime. Aaaand you look like you’re going to hug me so I’m going to leave now.”

Darcy laughed at Tony’s retreating back before redirecting her attention and affection on the rest of her personal heroes. “Thank you guys so much. I can’t even tell you how much this means to me.”

“You’re more than welcome, Darcy-Lou,” Clint replied, going in for a hug. He squeezed her tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before making way for the next guy in line.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Darcy. If we left anything important behind just let me know. I’d be happy to pay him another visit.”

“I’m sure you would, Cap. Thank you.”

Bucky shuffled forward. “Darcy.”

“Bucky.”

“We didn’t much like the idea of living you down here by yourself, so to make you feel a bit safer at night, or maybe not,” he mumbled, hiding behind his hair. “I’m gonna move down into the room across the hall. At least until they finish up on this floor and start getting other people in here.”

Darcy’s arms were thrown around his neck before he could finish.

“Thank you.”

Hug her back, you idiot, Sam mouthed, choking on his laughter when Bucky awkwardly patted her on the back. He pushed Bucky out of the way and showed him what a hug was supposed to look like. “And if you want to hit the clubs and you want some added security…” he proposed with a little shimmy that pulled a laugh from Darcy and Steve (Bucky just rolled his eyes).

“I know who to call.”

“We’ll leave you to it - and see you at dinner, right?” Sam called back as the three musketeers headed for the elevators.

“Absolutely!”

And then it was just Thor and Jane, both of them regarding her with kind smiles and sad eyes.

“I am sorry he harmed you, Darcy. One word from you and I will throw him in the deepest, darkest cell on Asgard until he rots.”

“Thanks big guy. But you’ve done more than enough.”

“So… what now?” Jane asked, reaching for Thor’s hand. “Did you want to come back down to the labs until your bed gets here?”

“I think I’ll check out my new digs for a bit. Maybe rummage through the boxes and see what the guys managed to grab for me and make a list of what I need to replace....”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“I’m going to be fine, Janey,” Darcy replied, smiling to herself when it occurred to her just how true those words were. She was going to be fine.

[Post Credit Scene]

As it turned out, Tony’s idea of a “basic” bed was a king sized mattress and base - which none of Darcy’s current bedding fit.

Pepper and her favourite interior designer had been and gone, dinner was another hour away, and Darcy was doing her best to make up her new bed regardless of her ill fitting sheets, figuring if worse came to worst she’d just roll herself up like a burrito, when there was a knock at her new front door.

“Nat! When did you get in?”

“About two hours ago,” she replied, pushing past Darcy with a moving box balanced on her hip. “Clint told me what happened.”

“Oh no,” Darcy sighed, eying the box warily. “What did you do? Is he…you know...”

“Still breathing? Still in possession of all his limbs and both his testicles?”

“Yeah, those things.”

“Reluctantly. You could have called me,” she added quietly.

“You were on a mission,” Darcy shrugged. “And I kind of wanted to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Well, thank goodness Clint knows when to leave well alone and when to go at a problem like a dog with a bone.”

“You taught him well,” Darcy teased, which earned a small snort of amusement from the Black Widow. “Now, not to sound like Brad Pitt but what’s in the box?”

Natasha did a little drumroll on the lid of the box before pulling back the flaps. “I have… every roll of toilet paper in the apartment and half a dozen shoelaces - one from every pair of shoes he owns.”

“Is that all? Not that it’s not amazing,” she giggled. “But it seems kinda… small potatoes for a talented spysassin like yourself.”

“I may have also added a minced ghost pepper to his aftershave. And infected all of his devices with this special little virus that will crash his games just before he reaches a save point.”

“Oh my god, that’s devious! I love it!”

“You’re welcome,” she smirked. “And since that only took me like fifteen minutes after the world's shortest debriefing I had time to stop off on the way back for some of your favourite rotgut in case you were interested in a nightcap,” she announced, pulling a bottle of tequila from the box.

“Jose Cuervo isn’t not rotgut… But I’m kinda off the tequila at the moment,” Darcy admitted quietly.

“Well, luckily for you, I also picked up a bottle of my favourite rotgut,” she smiled, presenting Darcy with a bottle of unpronounceable, high proof vodka.

Darcy laughed and reached for the tacky shot glasses Clint had rescued from her old apartment and let Natasha do the honors.

“Hey, do you have any missions on the horizon?” Darcy spluttered after the first shot.

“Nothing planned, why?”

“Pepper’s interior designer reckons she can have my apartment fully painted and furnished by this time next week. I was thinking I might host a little family dinner. Sort of a housewarming slash thanks for having my back party? I’ll bake that coffee chocolate cake Clint loves and put in orders with like, four of the team's favourite takeout places...”

“I’m in. As long as I get to be on cocktails,” Nat said as she poured another round.

Darcy clinked their glasses together with a smile. “Deal.”

#avengers assemble #darcy lewis and the avengers #freudensteins-fics #darcy lewis #jane foster #clint barton #tony stark #thor #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #mcu timeline? what mcu timeline?#mostly pre-ultron #(bruce is post-ultron)#bucky is a little more ca:cw #and i mention carol #so.... *shrug*

87 notes · View notes

shipping-receiving · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 Day 18: “Secrets? I love secrets.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 3226 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – Office Notes: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

(read on AO3)

//////

Hey. Just found out a client is in town this weekend, so I’ll have to work on Sat. Are you free Sun?

Brienne has been staring at that notification on her phone for the past five minutes. She hasn’t opened the message—doesn’t want Jaime to see that she’s seen it. She isn’t free on Sunday, in fact; she’s cancelled on Margaery twice already, and she’s feeling guilty enough about it as it is. She’s also running out of excuses, considering she doesn’t exactly have many friends or commitments outside of work, and Margaery is well aware of that. Although, Brienne has a feeling that if Margaery knew the real reason behind those cancellations, she would gladly revoke any and all appointments for the foreseeable future.

Anyway, Margaery’s coming over to her apartment to hang out on Sunday afternoon, and that’s that. She isn’t going to change her plans for Jaime, not this weekend. Something in Brienne tells her she should be feeling disappointed. She enjoys spending time with him, doesn’t she? Every text from him makes her feel much more joy than a few words in a digital bubble truly had a right to make her feel. But she finds that what this particular message makes her feel is—

relief.

And now, in addition to feeling guilty about cancelling on Margaery—which she will be rectifying by not cancelling on Margaery—she is feeling guilty about feeling relieved about not meeting Jaime, though meeting Jaime generally makes her feel happy, beneath all her nervousness.

It’s all very confusing.

Last weekend, Jaime had told her about his family. He had told her that he thinks she has nice blue eyes. He had told her that he felt hurt when he thought she didn’t think he was much to look at. He had told her that he was listening to the sound of her breathing as they lay side-by-side in her favourite meadow. And perhaps most crucially, he had told her all these things while he was wearing a loose white shirt with the top three buttons left unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose his forearms.

It was all so… much. Other women—women Jaime has probably dated before—they might have felt flattered. They might have seized those opportunities, if Brienne was even right in thinking they were opportunities. They might not have stood up abruptly from an intimate conversation and thanked the sun for setting just in time. They might have kissed him, right there on the grass. Brienne had thought about that. She really had. Part of her really did want to kiss him, right there on the grass. Part of her wants to walk into his office right now and do that very thing.

Yet the idea of kissing him—it doesn’t make her feel happy, or excited, or passionate, or all these things she thinks she’s supposed to feel. And it isn’t about whether it would be her first, though it would. She’s twenty-five, never kissed anyone or been kissed by anyone, but she’s quite gotten over that already, frankly. It’s just a fact of her existence.

It’s just, the idea of kissing Jaime. Something about that just feels so—monumental. Like everything in her life would change if she just does that one thing, with this one person. It already feels like everything in her life is changing, just because she had punched him in the face. To kiss him—Jaime—it’s—Gods—it’s overwhelming.

So Brienne doesn’t want to change her plans. She doesn’t want to see Jaime this weekend. She wants, for some reason, to talk to Margaery. To tell Margaery everything that’s happened so far. She knows it’s going to be trying—Margaery is… well, excitable is one word for it. Perhaps Margaery will feel all the excitement Brienne is supposed to be feeling, but can’t seem to. Regardless, Brienne just wants to get out of her own head. She’s been trapped in her own head about this for far too long.

(There is, of course, the option of just talking to Jaime. But she’s not ready for that quite yet.)

She taps on the notification, finally, and replies: I’m meeting Margaery on Sunday. Sorry 😕

Slanted mouth face is good, right? It’s not as revealing as a sad face, but enough to convey at least some disappointment.

Jaime’s reply comes soon enough: Next weekend then 😔

Great. Sad face. And it’s the most pathetic-looking of all the sad face options save the ones with actual tears. Now she’s feeling guilty again. But Brienne has made her choice, so she pushes that away, and concentrates on the relief.

(Later, when Jaime walks by her cubicle, he gives her a kind of sad smile. There’s no emoji for that. She wants to bang her head on the table.)

Saturday rolls around, and for the first time in five Saturdays, Brienne isn’t spending the day with Jaime. He’s not even texting her—probably busy with the client, she supposes. By the end of the day, she’s not sure if she feels relief anymore. She was just at the gym in the morning, but she heads there again. She wants to sweat out some of that regret.

(After her second workout of the day, she looks at her reflection. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed to make the blue stand out, Jaime had said. She wants to bang her head on the mirror.)

Sunday morning, at least, could be spent grocery shopping and preparing lunch for herself and Margaery. By some miracle, she manages to keep it all together through their meal, pretend everything is as it always is. Brienne stands in her kitchen after, silently watching Margaery make a pot of tea, trying her hardest to figure out how to start this conversation. When Margaery pours her a cup and hands it to her, she almost drops it, as if she’d forgotten how to use her fingers.

“What’s going on with you, Brienne?” Margaery asks. “You’ve been acting weird through the whole of lunch. Well, for weeks, actually.”

Okay, guess I wasn’t really keeping it all together.

“Marg,” Brienne begins, “I need to tell you something.” She motions Margaery towards her couch. “You might want to sit down for this.” I might want to sit down for this.

“Oh. My. Gods. Brienne.” Margaery somehow manages to bounce over without spilling her cup of tea. “Are you finally going to tell me about your sordid affair with Jaime Lannister? I want to know all the details, please. Sexual positions, everything.”

Seven hells. Brienne knew this was going to happen. She really needs more friends. “There is no—there isn’t a sordid affair. There are definitely no sexual positions.”

Margaery can’t seem to decide if she wants to look disappointed or disbelieving. “What’s with the whole back-and-forth in the office then? And the texting?”

Brienne almost drops her cup again. Perhaps it’s safest to put it on the coffee table. “How do you know about the texting?”

“Aha! So you have been texting Jaime Lannister.” She gives Brienne her smug look, as if she doesn’t permanently have one plastered on her face anyway. “I didn’t know for sure, but now I do.”

“Damn it, Marg,” Brienne sighs. “If you want me to tell you anything, you have to promise to keep it a secret. And you know how you are with secrets.”

“Secrets?” she repeats, all false innocence, setting her own cup down carefully. “I love secrets.”

“You love hearing secrets, Margaery. You love telling those secrets to other people. I’m asking you to keep a secret right now.”

“Fine,” Margaery rolls her eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

Brienne supposes that Margaery’s ‘best’ will have to do. She takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and plugs her fingers in her ears, just to prepare herself for Margaery’s reaction.

“IhavebeengoingoutwithJaimeforthepastfourweekends,” she blurts out, and cracks open one eye.

I’m sorry? Brienne sees Margaery mouth at her, and she takes one finger out of one ear. “Could you repeat that slowly, Brienne?” Margaery says.

Brienne plugs her finger back into her ear, and enunciates very slowly: “I. Have. Been. Going. Out. With. Jaime. For. The. Past. Four. Weekends.”

And then, as expected, Margaery shrieks.

When she’s gotten that out of her system, she plants her two hands on Brienne’s cheeks. “What the fuck. You are having a sordid affair! Good for you, Brienne!”

“Again, there is no sordid affair,” she manages to say, despite Margaery squishing her face together. She grabs Margaery’s wrists and pushes her hands away from her face. “I mean ‘going out’ in the most basic sense. We go… out. They’re not dates. He asked me to show him around the Stormlands a few weeks ago.”

“He asked you personally? And you’ve been doing this for four weekends straight?” Margaery has that half-disappointed, half-disbelieving look again. “How could they not be dates? What have you been doing exactly?”

“The first weekend, we went to Storm’s End.”

“Okay, not my first choice for a date, but I guess an old castle can be romantic.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be romantic,” Brienne groans. “It’s the castle of the Stormlands, Marg. The city we live in was literally built in its shadow. It’s the first stop on the list for any tourist.”

Margaery shrugs. “I just ignore it, most days. How about the next weekend?”

“We drove out to Bronzegate—”

“Not another castle!” Margaery interrupts. “Unless of course Jaime loves castles. Then bring him to every castle.”

The way Margaery said that last bit seemed to suggest they should be doing much more at castles than just wandering around with the audio guide included in the admission price, but Brienne valiantly ignores that implication. “We didn’t go to the castle. We just went to one of the small towns near Bronzegate.”

“What did you even do?”

“Um. He bought a lot of cheese?”

“... Okay. Maybe let’s move on to the third weekend.”

“Art museum.”

“Ooh, very sexy. Lots of naked bodies.” Margaery’s eyes seem almost to glaze over as she says, “I bet you Jaime Lannister’s built like some of those sculptures underneath that very well-tailored suit.”

“Seven hells, Marg.” Brienne shoves the image of Jaime in his half-unbuttoned white shirt out of her mind yet again. “We actually spent more time with the modern and contemporary art. Less naked bodies, more… shapes. Everyday objects.”

“Hmm. Boring.”

“They’re really interesting, actually, Jaime’s very good at talking about—”

Brienne stops herself there as a sly smile forms on Margaery’s face. “Ooh, Jaime’s very good, is he?”

“Will you stop reading or inserting innuendos into everything, please?”

Margaery puts a hand to her chest in mock offence. “As my friend, Brienne, you shouldn’t be asking me to go against my nature. How about the fourth weekend then?”

Brienne takes another deep breath. “Don’t freak out, but… I brought him to Tarth.”

“You brought him to Tarth?” Margaery practically shrieks. Again.

“I just told you not to freak out. It wasn’t a big deal.” It was a big deal. “He wanted to see some nature and that was my first thought!”

“Brienne, you brought him to your island.” Great, Margaery’s hands are squishing her cheeks together again.

“You say that like my family still owns the island,” Brienne reminds her, as she pushes her hands away, “which we haven’t in maybe five centuries, Marg.”

“I mean, Brienne, you grew up there. You love that place. It’s like you’re giving him a part of your soul.” Well, that’s a bit dramatic, but at least she moved on from the sexual positions. “Oh my gods, your father lives on Tarth,” Margaery gasps. “Did you bring Jaime to meet your dad?”

“Of course not,” Brienne says, exasperatedly. “Why would I bring my boss to meet my dad?!”

“At this point, Brienne, I think calling him your boss is a tiny bit inaccurate, don’t you think?”

“What should I call him, then?”

Margaery pauses to think for a moment. “Your… man friend.”

“My man friend?” Brienne’s brow could not be more furrowed. “What the hells is that?”

“He has to be at least a friend by now, even if he’s not a boyfriend. And he’s one of the gold standards of the male specimen.” Margaery looks like she’s salivating, Maiden save her.

“Gross,” Brienne replies, even as she curses her brain for bringing back the image of Jaime in the white shirt for the ninety-second time today.

“Please tell me you brought him to your favourite meadow and kissed him passionately,” Margaery pleads.

“I brought him to my favourite meadow—” Margaery’s eyes are wide with anticipation— “and didn’t kiss him passionately.”

And Margaery’s face falls. “Well, what did you do, then?”

“We talked. Well, he talked. About personal stuff.” Brienne suspects Margaery probably knows much more than she does about Lannister Corp power struggles, seeing as she’s worked in the main office at King’s Landing before, but she definitely doesn’t want to betray Jaime’s confidence. “And then he asked me about the thing I said,” Brienne mumbles.

“What thing?”

“You know. About how I thought he looks average. Which I don’t, obviously.” She was born with eyes.

“I knew you were lying about that. Wait, you’re telling me he actually cares?”

“... He might have told me that it hurt him.”

“Why?” Margaery is as confused as Brienne was. Or still is. “That is a man who knows exactly how good-looking he is.”

Brienne covers her face with her hands. She’s been going over Jaime’s exact words in her mind ever since he said them. “He didn’t exactly say why. He just said, ‘I was a little hurt that the tall one with the nice blue eyes thought I only looked average.’ That’s—that’s weird, right?”

And then there’s just silence. Brienne separates her fingers slowly, to see Margaery looking at her with a strange expression on her face.

“Brienne, I want you to think very hard right now about anything else he’s said that might have seemed weird to you.”

She wants to tell herself that she has to rummage through her memory for these examples, but the fact is she’s already far too prepared. “Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s asked me about that whole thing. He asked me after the meeting with HR, if I really thought he looked average. And I said no, and then he said ‘Good to know.’”

Margaery is nodding her head vigorously right now, and it’s very unsettling. “What else?”

“And then, I may have stupidly said something like, ‘Renly’s just a friend’, and he also said, ‘Good to know.’”

Margaery is letting out a very bizarre high-pitched hum. “What else?”

“The thing about my eyes being blue. It was probably the fifth time that day that he mentioned that. He just kept… slipping it into conversation. We talked about how Tarth is known as the Sapphire Isle, and he asked if it was because of my eyes.”

Margaery claps her hands around Brienne’s shoulders. When she does this, it somehow always makes Brienne very conscious of how broad her frame is, but now it’s far more disconcerting because Margaery is giving her the most direct stare in the history of direct stares.

“So what did you do with Jaime Lannister this weekend, Brienne?”

“... N-nothing,” Brienne stammers. “I—I didn’t meet him.”

“Why the hells not?!”

Gods, Brienne forgets sometimes that Margaery can be really scary when she wants to be. She shrugs her shoulders out of Margaery’s grip. “He had to work, yesterday! And you were planning on coming over today.”

“I would have gladly not come here if I had known any of this.”

“I know, okay? But I was—I needed some space. From Jaime.” Brienne grabs a cushion from her couch and buries her face in it.

“For Gods’ sakes, why? He likes you, Brienne. I’m sure he does.”

“I like him too.” Brienne has to say it into the cushion, because she feels like she might start crying if she hears those words said out loud from her own mouth. She brings the cushion down and hugs it tightly. “It’s just… so many feelings.” She doesn’t know how to articulate it to Margaery in any other way. “And what if it’s all just some big joke?” She’s been the butt of a joke before, a cruel one, though she’s never told Margaery all the details. “What if I’m just—something to help him pass the time until he has to go back to King’s Landing?”

“I don’t think it’s a joke, Brienne,” Margaery says, gently. “He wouldn’t have spent four weekends with you if it was all a joke. And even if that last part were true, you’re enjoying that spending all that time with him, aren’t you?”

Brienne nods.

“Won’t you allow yourself some happiness, Brienne? No matter how long it lasts?”

And then she has to bury her face in the cushion again, because she is going to cry.

Brienne had learned, long ago, how not to cry in the face of cruelty. She had learned it by walling herself away—from everything, even from things and people that were not cruel. She may have even learned it by inflicting cruelty on herself first, before others could do it to her.

But kindness—the kindness Margaery has shown her with just a few words, the kindness Margaery is asking her to show herself—that is another matter altogether.

Their tea has gone cold, by then, and Margaery gets up to makes them another pot while Brienne calms down. Brienne doesn’t want to talk about Jaime anymore after that, not for the rest of the afternoon. They watch a movie instead, something funny and distinctly unromantic. Brienne thinks of Jaime anyway.

Margaery finally leaves around five, but not before giving Brienne a big hug, and suggesting to her yet again that she might want to get around to starting that sordid affair, with sexual positions involved. Brienne just blushes and laughs, this time.

When she’s back on her couch, Brienne checks her phone for the first time since Margaery arrived. Jaime hasn’t said much, but he’s sent her some photos from their trip to Tarth. He’s been sending them to her all week. There’s one in this batch, though, with her standing in the grass, in the distance, blue sky all around her. She doesn’t know what it is about this image, but she finds she doesn’t feel that discomfort she usually feels when she looks at photos of herself.

Hey, Brienne types, before she can ruin it by thinking too hard about it. I know this is really last minute. But are you free for dinner tonight?

She looks at the message for a while, and considers adding some comment about it being their sightseeing for this weekend. But she decides against it. She won’t frame it as that. She wants to have dinner with him, just dinner. If he interprets it as a date, then he does.

Brienne turns the screen off immediately after sending it. She wants to put her phone down, walk away from it to make herself another cup of tea, just so she doesn’t sit there just waiting for his reply.

But before she can even move, her phone screen lights back up again.

Definitely. Pick you up at 7? Let me know where 😊

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #alright i fixed it #i never knew home until i found your hands

57 notes · View notes

like-rain-or-confetti · 5 years

Text

Request: Love is Not Enough Part 3

You smiled to yourself. You never thought it but now you couldn’t ignore it. This was a love story. A painful one, but a truthful one. Love wasn’t always easy. Love wasn’t always enough. It was work and your love for Alistair certainly went through the battle. It was work and pain. No tears but many moments you wish you could have, just to release some of the pain. There was anger, sorrow, disappointment and the most difficult thing came last. The ability to forgive ever single second of it. The hurdle that you usually couldn’t overcome. Each day you waited for the hurdle, knowing you’d give in and consequently, break Alistair's heart.

You hadn’t spent so much time with the Cullens as when Renesmee was born. You and Bella got along well, not to mention Renesmee loved you. It was unspoken that sooner or later you’d be leaving but Esme always somehow convinced you to stay just that little bit longer. Esme was built to be a mother. That you were sure of. Knowing of your predicament with Alistair must have made her insist that you stayed so she could keep an eye on you.

Like it was rehearsed, Alistair contacted you to tell you he was coming. It had been a few months since you had last spoken and you didn’t really know how to approach the knowledge that you’d see him in a matter of days.

Let’s be honest, the one bad thing about being a vampire...minus the essential murder, was trying to look horrendous and run down but instead looking like a super model. It doesn’t pass of the ‘im suffering’ element. That meant more effort to look a mess but the vampires genes won’t cooperate and simply just makes you look better. Even Esme complimenting your appearance as she passed. Not the look you were going for. Turns out neither human nor vampires could win the battle of getting your face and hair to cooperate.

Emmett didn't seem to notice your frustration, or he didn't care. He continued to pester you over clothes. You didn't listen to the details to busy wondering how you were going to deal with Alistair but surprisingly, Emmett's constant ranting made you snap. “Look you’ve collected more money than any human could in a life time, just get lost and by something expensive.” You swatted at him. Emmett seemed to find it funny, hands up in surrender and backing away. You huffed, ruffling your hair once again. "It'll be fine! I'm sure you two will work it out." Emmett then assured you. “Do not make me an optimist. It’s the last thing i need right now and you’ll ruin my life if you do.” You said pointedly, eyeing Emmett. “Oh come on, (Y/N)! Cheer up!” “No, my life will be forever depicted as the sad face emoji.” “What’s an emoji?” Your eyes widened a fraction. It was a new voice but you knew it well. Alistair. You turned to see both Carlisle and Alistair in the doorway. Slowly you rose to a stand, all of your emotions hitting you without notice.

After a moment of staring, you hurried to him, arms held out before hugging him tightly, so much so he staggered back slightly. He didn’t hug you back but accepted the hug, that could have been seen as a kind gesture since it was Alistair. However, you wanted to call him a particular body part and kick him in the shin. He seemed to enjoy making your reunions so awkward you would rather impale yourself than endure another minute. It made you wonder just who the hell the universe was trying to impress? Was this supposed to be funny? Surely you were being forced into this painfully awkward situation twice?

That was how things worked for a few days, both of you dancing around the subject...if dancing meant pretending it never existed. That was until the Cullen’s left for a hunt, leaving you two alone since Bella, Edward and Renesmee were already in their cottage.

You both sat beside each other silently for a moment. It’s awkward. Why is that your only word to describe every encounter with him? “Its a smiley face...a sad face specifically.” “What?” Alistair sounded irritated by the break of silence. “An emoji, you asked me a couple of days ago. Its an electronic picture of a sad face.” Alistair gave you a look of ‘who cares?’ Clearly not him. “Stop it.” “Stop what?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Your internal dialogue! I can see it on your face, it’s practically screaming. Stop it.” Yikes. He’s more than observant. Maybe that’s his gift. Or your face was like an open book, whichever comes first? You turned to Alistair, smiling in attempt to lighten the mood. “Do you know what the wolf nicknamed Renesmee and it’s actually stuck?” Alistair stayed quiet. “Nessie, as in the Loch Ness Monster.” It took a moment before Alistairs mouth twisted, trying not to smile. “Don’t make me laugh!” He cried out after his internal battle...which did remind you of constipation. He put his head into his hands and you couldn’t help but make a face to yourself, perhaps Alistair had lost a few screws after you left.

“Are we going to keep ignoring this?” Your eyes widened slightly. “Ignoring what?” “Us. You. Me.” He made a noise of frustration. “You are the most annoying addictive person i have ever met!” “...I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not?” “Take this seriously! This isn’t a good situation!” “Yeah, well, we aren’t a good match.” You shrugged trying to deflect where this conversation was going. Though Alistair appeared to be on a roll, and refusing to back down now. “You make me doubt myself! I’m afraid to be with you but afraid to be without you!” “That’s what happens!” You finally argued back, your own frustration with him rising to the surface. “You’re dragged out of your comfort zone! Everything changes!” “Oh because i’m sure you have it all figured out.” Alistair snapped. “No! Not even a bit!” You argued in complete exasperation. “But i don’t run from it, i face it head on or else what’s the point!? What’s the point in any of this eternal life if I know everything that will happen!?” You wished you hadn’t said it so harshly, especially in anger...but you did and you couldn’t take it back. Despite that, it felt good to get off your chest. Suddenly, Alistair grew quiet. This was it, the end was beginning. You knew it. “Tell me,” he finally spoke up, avoiding your gaze. “If we weren’t immortal, in other place, another time. Would you still choose me?” Silence filled the room, you lost the ability to look him in the face, gaze falling to the floor. “No. I wouldn’t be able to wait for you. If things were different, my love for you wouldn’t be enough and if things keeps going this way, love isn’t enough for this life either.” This was it. You had finally said it out loud. Love is not enough. Not for you and Alistair. Alistair walked away and you squeezed your eyes shut.

A few hours had passed and you were lying on the bed in the Cullen house. It had turned nightfall, the Cullen’s wouldn’t be back until mid day the next day. You immediately sensed someone close, Alistair’s scent drifting toward you. You looked over at the doorway and there he stood. Alistair was silent, staring at you for a few minutes. You blinked and immediately he had climbed on top of you, eyeing your lips, back to your eyes, to your lips and back to your eyes.. Your eyes flickered a brief moment of surprise before resorting back to your seemingly permanent look of sadness. “We aren’t doing this again, are we?” You said solemnly, Alistair hovering above you, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Shut up.” He said before pulling you up to meet his lips for a moment before breaking away. “I think i know my decision, but i don’t want to tell you here. I want to tell you outside.” He climbed off of you and you looked down, that didn’t sound good and this kiss was likely a ‘good bye forever’ one. Not to mention he always felt better outside.

Nevertheless, you went outside sitting on the porch steps, staring out into the dark forest in front of you. He soon followed standing behind you for a second before stepping down the stairs to sit beside you. You kept your gaze to the ground, trying to prepare yourself for what he’d say. After a number of minutes of silence he took your hand, just as he did all those months ago, letting your locked hands rest on your thigh. Your gaze trailed to them. “Don’t break my heart.” You felt relief rush through you, a smile growing on your face. “Only if you don’t break mine.” You responded. In the corner of your eye, you saw Alistair turn his head to look at you but you didn’t meet his gaze. He seemed to really look you over before saying his next words. “I love you too.” It sounded genuine, just as it did all those months ago. You slowly nodded, before giving him the same look you had when he had first said it. The look he’d come to know very well each time he said it, he’d be saying it for eternity after all. It was the look that said ‘I know’.

#im kinda sad this series has ended #twilight #vampire!reader #part 3 #alistair #breaking dawn covens #one shot #oneshot #request

43 notes · View notes

toonstarterz · 6 years

Text

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #141

The first half of Golden Week is over, and Tomoko has found herself the object of “platonic" affection for four different suitors. And as our intrepid heroine muses over the which of them to pursue, out of nowhere comes the dark horse. Once thought to be missing in action, this little girl, having been there since the very beginning, threatens to overtake the competition in one psychotic swoop.

Chapter 141: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Go to School with Kii-chan

The things that Stuffed Yuu-chan and Pals have seen...

Ah, the classic Introvert Burnout. I had a feeling Tomoko would be drained after having what may have been the most socially stressful time of her life. Not simply for being social, but for how much she had to navigate as a fish out of water. Each “date” involved a new experience for Tomoko to address, and that much effort at once can be really exhausting for a layabout like her.

That my friend is what we in the TvTropes community call, “Tempting Fate”.

Heeeeeere’s Kii-chan!

Can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this entrance. We all know who Kii-chan is. But even those outside of the loop would get a feel for who she is. Adorable and sweet-natured, but disturbing due to an apparent lack of negative emotions (even when appropriate). Ah, Kii-chan, it’s been far too long.

Nothing to say here, really. Just think it’s a particularly lovely picture of Tomoko.

Because the popularity of a manga series is largely dependent on real-time reception, it’s very common for mangakas to add new, “popular” characters, or give the spotlight to characters who’ve been out of focus. Watamote is no exception. It may seem contrived to bring Kii-chan back after being gone for a while, but it works here because it relies on Kii-chan’s character to it, instead of a series of implausible plot developments. Kii-chan is just considerate of her cousin’s schedule–that’s all we need.

The first hint of Tomoko’s reawakening as the role model onee-chan.

One of the perks of being a sporadically-appearing character is that you can really see just much the art style has evolved since the character’s last appearance. For Kii-chan, she hasn’t really changed much design-wise other than being a little taller. But even then, the linework is much cleaner and consistent this time around, which compliments the more “everyday slice-of-life” approach Watamote’s been embracing.

If only she could grow a nose.

The best thing about this type of censorship is that you don’t necessarily have to understand what's being censored. All you really need is a bit of context to put the pieces together. The outlines are detailed enough that we can see the characters as some kind of humanoids with animal features. And given what we know about Kii-chan, it makes perfect sense.

Y-Yeah, I...I’ve totally heard of that show.

Other than the whole Ucchi situation (which is slowly becoming an unintentional blessing), this is the last of the misunderstandings that still needs resolving. It’ll be hard, though, since this particular issue isn’t that troublesome. For now...

Look at that platonic sibling bonding.

Perhaps I’ve been conditioned by manga/anime, but I find it refreshing how Watamote has managed to develop the Kuroki siblings’ relationship while avoiding any incestual subtext. Lots of series oversell the sibling relationship by having them be overly affectionate and clingy. With Watamote, their bond feels organic because they don’t have to be touchy-feely. An unspoken quality time is all there is to it.

It’s hard to get a read on Tomoko’s emotions here, but at the very least, she seems troubled. It could very well be that Tomoko just realized that she’s changing in regards to the media she consumes. The former her would’ve probably jumped on the Kemono Friends bandwagon, but the reality is, Tomoko’s otaku interests are being compromised by the mainstream, at least as mainstream as rap battles get.

But the kicker is...she realizes this change isn’t all that bad.

Of course, nothing beats watching anime with your psychotic cousin.

The whole “pet-sitting” relationship they have here is a tricky one since each side is trying to accommodate the other based on “flaws” that don’t exist (or no longer exist). This usually results in an endless cycle of misunderstandings that lead to nowhere, but this confusion has transcended that cycle to develop into a progression of sorts. Similar to the Ucchi situation, the absurdity became so frequent that it just became reality. One that each side has been influenced greatly from.

With her constantly adorable face, you forget that Kii-chan is a middle-schooler and is therefore old enough to know about things like sex and perversion. Like Yuu-chan, she may look innocent, and while she was aware of such things as a kid, she didn’t really get it until they approached high-school age.

You know, I read this really good manga called Kaguya-sama: Love is War (shameless plug, I know), and they actually had a chapter about a rap battle a while back. Given that both series tend to be up-to-date on contemporary trends, it makes me wonder...has rap suddenly become a hot thing in Japan? Or has it always had its niche audience?

I’m sure many fans knew that this was going to be an inevitable development whenever Kii-chan showed up again. Unlike Tomoko’s school friends, Kii-chan wasn’t there to see the slow, gradual growth of Tomoko’s character, so it must have hit her like a ton of bricks to see her precious onee-chan go from helpless loner to mature teen in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes I wonder just how pitiful Kii-chan thought Tomoko really was...

Why would you censor Disneyland now of all times?

Those of us who were clamoring to get close-ups of the photos taken in the Disneyland arc finally get their wish.

The Kowarith photo is my favorite, even though two-thirds of the people in it are faking their asses off. While that may be my personal bias towards the Tomoko-Yoshida-Yuri trio, I think it reflects a better sense of kinship between the girls. The effort is there, phony as it is, to support each other in an awkward situation, which is fundamentally what the series is all about.

The assumedly Fireworks photo is also pleasing, make no mistake. You can definitely feel more genuine emotions (or lack thereof) being expressed than in the other photo. But this focuses more on the individual than how they work as a collective group, despite there being more people. The girls ultimately look like six different colored Skittles–part of the same package, but each unique.

Could this be the start of Kii-chan revitalizing her perception of Tomoko as a super popular girl? I sure hope so.

How ironic. Kii-chan’s perspective of Tomoko is starting to grow ever so gradually on the upside, whereas Tomoko’s perspective of Kii-chan grows more and more negative.

Hang on, is that supposed to be some fake Dragonite shirt? Neat.

At this point, people assuming that Yoshida as some kind of punk based on her looks is a dead horse of an issue. Some stereotypes exist for a reason, I suppose.

I see your game, Nico Tanigawa, using a deliberately vague line about “two girls” to make your readers overanalyze a single panel. All I have to say to that is that I am completely and utterly guilty.

One of the girls is probably Yuri, if only because she’s the only girl to appear in both photos. As for the second girl, your guess is as good as mine. I’m inclined to say Ucchi because if Kii-chan only has their appearances to go on, then Ucchi and her emoji-face make quite the impression.

I’m getting Yuu-chan vibes here with the way Kii-chan phrases half-insults with a friendly demeanor.

+ 1 TO THE HAREM.

Kii-chan is definitely that relative you leave a self-imposed boundary on. Fine in small doses, like at parties and family gatherings, but long-term exposure is unhealthy for the brain. This isn’t even a wholly exaggerated fantasy on Tomoko’s part. Okay, the eating bit is a little much, but given that Kii-chan allegedly dreams about treating Tomoko like a pet, the latter is right to be a little concerned.

There needs to be an AU one-shot of Tomoko, Tomoki, and Kii all going to the same school at the same time. Right. Now.

I do appreciate that despite Kii-chan’s deteriorating sanity, Tomoko doesn’t view her as a lost cause and even tries to put a positive spin on it. Reconciliation Arc is a-go!

Did Kii-chan really have that big of a growth spurt, or has Tomoko just reached her peak in height? Not sure how far the genetics will go, but Kii-chan becoming taller than Tomoko is only going to make her even more intimidating.

This little scheme of hers is definitely reflective of the “old” Tomoko, but there’s a nice reversal going on here. Instead of Tomoko trying to make things sound cooler than they actually are, she’s trying to make things seem worse. Of course, Murphy’s Tomoko’s Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Especially if Tomoko wants it to go right.

Ah, Ogino. The only character whose relationship with Tomoko has remained relatively unchanged despite indirectly having the most impact on Tomoko’s life.

Better update her Wiki page now.

It’s pretty telling how it’s these two who cause Tomoko the most grief. It’s not the delinquent who routinely bashes her face in, not the pervert(s) lusting after her little brother, and not the otaku who passive-aggressively teases her. As for why, I think it boils down to the fact that Ogino and Kii-chan challenge her comfort zone the most. It also doesn’t help that Tomoko doesn’t interact with them as often as the others, so she hasn’t really had the time to get desensitized by them.

This freakin’ teacher, man.

The second worst part of Ogino’s “help” is that she never actually lies. Sure, she exaggerates to hell and back, but it’s always loosely based in reality, like some cheap movie adaptation of a best-selling novel.

But the worst part of it is...you can’t hate Ogino for it. Her personal assessment may be founded on largely suspect reasons, but it’s still an honest assessment. I have no doubts that Ogino really is proud of Tomoko, and that’s exactly why she’s the best worst teacher.

That’s true. If Ogino gave that spiel to people like Hijirisawa or Hatsushiba–y’know, people who don’t know her as well–they might actually buy that crap. But people who know Tomoko like Yuri or Nemo, people like us, can tell that Ogino’s sugarcoating the whole thing. Kii-chan, with her terrifying skill for knowing too much, is no exception.

Ah, I see. This is one of those put-all-the-secondary-characters-who-we-haven’t-seen-in-a-while-into-one-chapter chapters.

Can’t complain, though. I like Itou.

“Or something” can also be translated as “lust after Tomoki”.

We don’t really have much to go on for how Itou views Tomoko, but I think it’s reasonable to think that she may not see her in that good of a light. Not only did Tomoko give off a weird impression when she played off the whole fist bump thing, but Itou’s “powers of perception” probably made her aware of Tomoko and Komiyama’s frenemy-ship, hence her “warning” that Komiyama was around.

The Inherent Awkwardness of Second-hand Relationships: The Life of Tomoko.

Betcha’ no one saw this interaction coming. Whether it’ll lead to anything more remains to be seen. Itou’s still got the whole “friendship potential” going on with Futaki, but given that she has the tolerance to BFF Komiyama, I see no reason why she can’t befriend a psycho like Kii-chan.

That desire to “loudly blow” is Kii-chan’s inner demons screeching out in desperation for release. I pity the fool who unleashes the beast.

That does sound like your typical amateur definition of a psychopath, doesn’t it?

For the record, I don’t actually believe Kii-chan is a psychopath, despite the jokes I made. There are way too many moments that discredit such a claim. Now, if you were to accuse Kii-chan as being some sort of deviant (sexual or otherwise) I might see that. But ultimately, I think Kii-chan was just a victim of having her innocence shattered too fast and too soon, which made her more, uh, crafty than Tomoko could handle.

Man, it’s been a long time while since we last saw Dicky-chan, hasn’t it? Hope we get to see more of her (and Sayaka, for that matter) after this chapter.

I love how even when she’s collecting masturbation material, Komiyama has to hold her camera phone all lady-like. If the term “purevert” ever needed a concrete definition, this girl would be it.

Main Character privileges, that’s why.

Get. The. FUCK. Out. Of. Here.

With each subsequent appearance, Komiyama’s standard for what constitutes a bitch primed to steal away her Tomoki-kun falls hilariously lower. It’s not enough that a girl in their class makes two seconds of eye contact with him, nosiree. Any girl with an inkling of a relationship with Tomoko is not immune, even if it’s his own damn cousin. Granted, I don’t think Komiyama would be so pathetically scummy as to confront Kii-chan about it like she did to Yoshida.

...I hope.

“Best friends” may be stretching it now that we’ve gotten this far in the series. However, there is one aspect of Tomoko and Komiyama’s relationship that triumphs over all the others:

Absolute candidness. Even now, the only one who gets to see the complete, raw package that is Tomoko Kuroki is Komi-something. While Tomoko has made substantial friendships with the likes of Yuri, Nemo, and Katou, Tomoko still restrains herself just a tad lest she pushes them away. It’s only with Komi that Tomoko bears her full ugliness, which I think has developed into some freakish level of respect/understanding that none of the others can claim.

Damn, even the bishounen dude gets to make an appearance. All we need know is Lethal Chef Girl to make a cameo and I’m set.

Nope. Any game is an away game when your “harem” shows up to cheer you on.

A few people have expressed discontent with how the chapter seems to end so abruptly, and it’s a fair criticism. It may be the lack of a “Next time...” tagline throwing people off, but while this chapter indeed ends at an odd point, it’s not that unprecedented. Some of the previous chapters ended this way, like that time Komi was all “Oi!” at Yoshida at the cafeteria, which indicates that this chapter is likely one of those series-of-vignettes that also doubles as a build-up chapter.

On a positive note, while the chapter does feel prematurely ended, how the next chapter plays out if it is connected to this one is sure to be a surprise.

#watamote #watamote review #chapter 141 #no matter how i look at it it's you guys' fault i'm not popular!#tomoko kuroki #kiko satozaki #ogino #itou #kotomi komiyama #akari iguchi #tomoki kuroki #that one bishounen dude #review

29 notes · View notes

geezeralert · 6 years

Text

Deep Dive Duly Delivers

From my boxes: Some sleeves that came with Beatles’ 45 rpm records

(Second of three parts)

I still love Beatles music.

In my months of replaying and studying all the songs produced in the group’s eight-year recording period (1962-1970), I continued to close my eyes and listen raptly to the tunes, often over and over and over (my practice since youth for favorite songs; I’m like a little kid repeatedly playing a favorite video or asking for a re-reading of a favorite book).

From “She Loves You” to “All My Loving” to “Words of Love” to “No Reply” to “Tell Me Why” to “She Said She Said” to “Hey Bulldog” to “Penny Lane” to “With A Little Help From My Friends” to “Get Back” to “Two of Us” to “Let It Be” to “Glass Onion” to the “long medley” on side two of “Abbey Road” . . . the foursome’s pop output of 50-plus years ago remains among the most pleasant sounds to my ears.

That state of enjoyment is to be expected, I guess. These musical creations dominated the soundtrack of my taste-formulating teen years, ahead of other loves like Motown, Sinatra, the Beach Boys and the myriad of hits coming out AM and FM radio.

Of course, my knowledge of the Beatles’ songs is now greatly enhanced, which, I’m pleased to find, only serves to heighten my enjoyment.

Learning how individual songs were conceived and executed, and then hearing the eventual product and how (or if) it reflects — by design or accident —the artists’ intentions, adds layers of fun to the listening experience.

The same was true for songs I do not particularly enjoy, like “Rain,” as those I do, like “Penny Lane” or “Two of Us.”

For “Rain,” the revelation was that Ringo Starr considers his drumming work on the song his best ever. Song chronicler Ian MacDonald (“Revolution in the Head”) called Starr’s work “superb” while also lavishing praise on Paul McCartney’s “high register bass” as “sometimes so inventive that it threatens to overwhelm the track.”

Perhaps any “true fan” of the Beatles knew such details but I never paid attention to either the drumming, the bass line or just about anything else about that song. Now, listening to it with this new knowledge, I at least give it some respect.

Likewise, for many tunes I did listen to closely and often over the years, there were plenty of tidbits that make them even more fun to hear.

Like the painstaking attention paid by McCartney to the rather simple-sounding (to me) “Penny Lane,” the technically expert drumming of Starr on “She Said She Said” (called “the outstanding track” on “Revolver” by MacDonald, who says that album is considered by many the Beatles’ best) and the performance on “”Two of Us.”

Hearing that last tune, with my new knowledge, had me choking back tears.

Understand, “Two of Us” was recorded for the Beatles’ second to last album, “Let It Be,” and I played it after months of reviewing their musical endeavors as boyhood chums (McCartney wrote “When I’m 64,” one of the classics from “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band,” when he was 16), as a newly formed band spending hours at their craft in a foreign country, as an insanely popular pop group dominating the musical world, as a trend-setting studio creative force, as a drug-addled crumpling unit and, finally, as bitterly feuding individual musical achievers no longer interested in being a fabulous foursome.

But even as the storm clouds gathered, producing occasional thunder claps, there were still lightening flashes of what made the Beatles the Beatles.

Moments like the one, in late January 1969, when McCartney and John Lennon sang in beautiful harmony — a sound straight out of 1962 — strumming acoustic guitars, on “Two of Us.”

“The close harmonies of “Two of Us” reminded McCartney and Lennon of their teenage Everly Brothers impersonations and, during the second day’s work on it, they broke off to sing ‘Bye Bye Love,’” wrote MacDonald.

The image of these two boyhood chums and creative masterminds, after years of ups and downs, burying the hatchet for a few minutes while under the influence of nostalgia — well . . . (insert cry-face emoji).

To be sure, that continued camaraderie for all four group members was captured in the “Let It Be” film, along with the more well-known contentiousness. They jammed to rock ‘n roll standards in the studio and played their last live performance as a group on the rooftop.

The books I consulted also told how these four individuals continued to work together despite all their mounting, serious differences, and, like the tale of the “Two of Us” recording, those passages were among the most noteworthy to me during my research.

MacDonald notes this this lasting togetherness showed the Beatles to be “in no respect an ordinary phenomenon.”

He continued:

“Many have spoken of the charismatic atmosphere that switched on whenever all four were together — a group-mindedness which kept them united through a further 18 months (after their “Revolver” and “Sgt. Pepper” successes) of in-fighting during which they recorded well over 50 more tracks and which continued, albeit less reliably than before, to function as the psychic antenna by which they maintained contact with the shifting currents of popular feeling at large.”

Listening to their musical creations while getting more details about how much they were starting to really hate each other in the late 1960s was a indeed revelation for this big Beatles fan.

It culminated with the tale told by the engineer Geoff Emerick (“Here There and Everywhere, My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles”) of the band’s final recording together, Lennon’s “Because,” as it wrapped up the “Abbey Road” album.

The tune brought their legendary producer George Martin back into the studio to orchestrate nine harmony parts. For technical reasons, it required John, Paul and George Harrison to sing their three-part harmony together live, rather than overdubbing each part one at a time, and then add two additional passes to add on the remaining six parts.

Emerick recounts how the three Beatles were totally into the effort.

“They knew they were doing something special and they were determined to get it right. There was no clowning around that day, no joking; everyone was very serious, very focused,” he wrote.

He continued:

“That day I saw the four Beatles at their finest: there was 100 percent concentration from all of them — even Ringo, sitting quietly with his eyes closed, silently urging his bandmates on to their best performance — all working in tandem to get that vocal nailed, spot on. It was a stark example of the kind of teamwork that had been so sorely lacking for years. It’s tempting to imagine what the Beatles might have been able to accomplish if they could only have captured and sustained that spirit just a little longer.”

For me, though, the “Because” effort was amazing for taking place at all, both in terms of the Beatles’ problems and just how long any group of performers can co-exist and produce excellence.

Another fascinating act of cooperation, in my judgment, was Paul helping John on his very personal “Ballad of John and Yoko.” By that time, Yoko One was an extremely divisive element in the groups’ universe so I found this friendly cooperation especially praiseworthy.

Speaking of Yoko . . .

Of course, all Beatles fans have read stories of how disruptive her constant presence was during the final years. But one of the biggest revelations I’ll take away from my project is just how badly she disrupted the group’s cohesiveness and creativity, from early 1968 forward.

Emerick believes much of the improved atmosphere in the recording studio during “Abbey Road” could be attributable to the absence of John and Yoko, who were injured in a car accident in Scotland.

When the pair finally were recovered enough to attend the recording sessions, John arranged for a bed to be brought into the studio for Yoko, complete with a microphone suspended over her so she could comment on the proceedings.

Yikes

Wrote the engineer:

“For the next several weeks, Yoko lived in that bed. Her wardrobe consisted of a series of flimsy nightgowns, accessorized with a regal tiara, carefully positioned to hide the scar on her forehead from the accident. As she gained her strength, so too did she gain her confidence, slowly but surely starting to annoy the other Beatles and George Martin with her comments.”

Interestingly, as the Abbey Road sessions progressed and Ono got out of bed, she was asked by John to stay in the control room while he, Paul and George performed what, in my opinion, was one of the most incredible feats of their later years: the three simultaneous guitar solos during “The End.”

I always wondered how that section of the song was done and was amazed to find that it was all three of them taking turns. I never tire listening to it.

Emerick says perhaps it was Yoko’s absence “or perhaps it was because on some subconscious level they had decided to suspend their egos for the sake of the music, but for the hour or so it took them to play those solos, all the bad blood, all the fighting, all the crap that had gone down between the three former friends was forgotten. John, Paul and George looked like they had gone back in time, like they were kids again, playing together for the sheer enjoyment of it. More than anything, they reminded me of gunslingers, with their guitars strapped on, looks of steely-eyed resolve, determined to outdo one another. Yet there was animosity, no tension at all — you could tell that they were simply having fun.”

I suppose knowledge of these scenarios, and the different parts played by the Beatles, in something that separates the really big fans of the Beatles from the really huge fans.

The latter already knew those details. And they also can say what songs were played when and by whom without consulting the various books that I used.

And they know a lot of other things that were news to me in my research.

Like the fact that Harrison auditioned his classic “Something” (originally eight minutes long!) for the group during the “White Album” along with “Old Brown Shoe” and “All Things Must Pass” but had them rejected.

Perhaps even some “really big” fans also had picked up those tidbits over the years while I missed them.

In any event, here’s some of they other things that jumped out at me in addition to the inspiring, intermittent camaraderie and the depressing, disruptive force of Yoko Ono:

** The amount of drug use by the group and the effect it had on their music.

The marijuana, the LSD and, for Lennon, the heroin all took at least the two main songwriters into their various musical directions. MacDonald notes that 50 days after the soaring achievement of “Because” Lennon “was back in the studio howling his addiction in ‘Cold Turkey.’” He makes the conclusion that heroin was “flowing coldly around its composer’s body” at the “Because” sessions.

** The influence of their various girlfriends on their songs.

Many of the songs chart the various stages of McCartney’s romances with Jane Asher and Linda Eastman along with John Lennon’s marriage/breakup with Cynthia and, of course, infatuation with Yoko.

** The nonsense of their lyrics— many of them were just thrown together and others had strictly personal meanings.

Under scrutiny, a vast number of their early songs are far better musically than lyrically. I guess the simple old “moon June” love messages sounded plenty deep enough to my teen ears. The Beatles themselves got tired of them and rarely returned to basic love songs in their later years.

Then we have a lot of phrases or passages that have meaning only to them, like those in “I Am the Walrus” (Lennon says it was a deliberate attempt to parody “the fashion for psychedelic lyrics” prevalent at the time) “Across the Universe” “Savoy Truffle” and “Glass Onion,” to name a few.

Another example: McCartney and Lennon, in a fit of marijuana-inspired laughter, made up some Spanish-sounding gibberish for “Sun King” on Abbey Road.

** The synchronizing of the songs — how they came at us on albums or singles — was far different than how they were conceived or executed.

I suppose this is pretty obvious to even the most passing fan but when you experience the songs in the order they were recorded, as I did by following MacDonald’s sequential presentation of them, it gives you a much different feel than what we originally had.

One example: “Penny Lane” and “Strawberry Fields Forever,” intended for “Sgt. Pepper” (they were the second and third songs recorded for that album, after “When I’m 64”) but released instead as a 45 rpm single, were followed in the studio by the intricate “A Day in the Life,” which eventually was put at the end of that album, giving it its unforgettable finale.

That sequence presents a far different perspective on the songs than how they were publically presented and received.

Another tidbit: The last song recorded by the Beatles as a group was “I Me Mine,” a Harrison tune produced for the “Let It Be” album after it was played informally in the “Let It Be” movie. It was formally performed and mixed after the “Abbey Road” sessions had wrapped.

Lennon was absent for that session so it was ironic that the next time the former Beatles recorded together was when his three ex-bandmates gathered again, after his death, to play with Lennon’s home-produced tune, “Free As a Bird.” That tape (three songs recorded by Lennon) was provided McCartney by Ono at Lennon’s 1994 induction into the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame.

Another tidbit in that category: In between “Abbey Road” recording sessions for “The End” and “Sun King/Mean Mr. Mustard,” McCartney recorded “Come and Get It,” playing all the instruments and double tracking the vocal.

The tune went on to be a big hit for the Apple group Badfinger and MacDonald calls it “by far the best unreleased Beatles song.” McCartney “knocked off” the recording in under an hour, he wrote. He offered it for Abbey Road.

** In contrast to the Hall of Fame’s insulting choice to induct Lennon years before honoring McCartney, my conclusion from what I read and heard is that McCartney was the dominating force behind the band’s production, creativity and longevity.

He softened Lennon’s often-harsh musical tendencies and pushed all of the others to better themselves, often to their annoyance.

In fact, McCartney’s criticisms of Harrison’s guitar playing was a major source of the friction in the group. There are several tales of McCartney going back into the studio to re-do the guitar solos for his songs.

He also kept the group involved in challenging projects, like the “Magical Mystery Tour” film and attempts at stripped down recordings for “Let It Be,” at times when other members wanted to just end things.

And his continued musical endeavors surely pushed the others to also keep trying to explore and create.

As a teen, Lennon was my favorite Beatle (every kid had to choose one!). Now . . . it’s complicated.

** A fun part of my listening experience was following the progress of the four Beatles as musicians, particularly McCartney on bass.

He was made the group’s bass player by default in their teenage beginnings. He quickly progressed to some great work on “All My Loving” and “Tell Me Why.” And from there, he perfected his skill on the instrument until it became a major contributor to a lot of the recordings, most especially “Hey Bulldog.”

I also was impressed by Starr’s drumming. He has been downgraded by some as a “human metronome” and a deep-background player in the Beatles saga but he gets a lot of credit in the books I read for his savvy, expert drumming. My own listening, as a simple fan, supports those conclusions.

Beatles songs were not about blasting percussion but needed the steady, consistent, skilled drum sounds that Starr provided.

** Another interesting part of the project was learning various music or recording terms.

These included: arpeggio (“the notes of a chord played in succession as a fan-like spread rather than as a single sound, as if on a harp”; used on “You Never Give Me Your Money,” “I Want You (She’s So Heavy),” “I’ve Got a Feeling,” “Sun King,” the middle of “Here Comes the Sun” and “Because.”); ADT (artificial double tracking, used often for Beatles’ voices and now a music industry stable); flanging (too technical to summarize here); and compression (“reduction of the overall dynamics generated by a voice or instrument”).

The amount of what we hear (and love) that is affected by such studio tricks as ADT, flanging, compression, manipulation of microphones or drums, or changing speeds on recorded material (to name just some of them) was astonishing to learn.

** Taking the Beatles’ catalogue as a whole over a short period of time demonstrated just how much effort the group put into always trying new sounds, new recording techniques and new musical approaches.

These could range from a simple change in how a piano was played (“Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” “Oh Darlin’”) to an entirely radical approach like “Revolution 9.”

This was done out of personal musical interest along with inter-group competition and intra-group competition. It was a key to why the group remained together, creative and popular for far longer than normal bands, particularly those in the rock era.

To be sure, the three primary songwriters in the group also borrowed liberally from what sounds were popular at the time — Motown, the Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, psychedelia, the Byrds, the Lovin’ Spoonful, the Who, the Kinks — but improved on them and created a sound all their own.

** MacDonald feels the McCartney song “You Never Give Me Your Money” was the earliest musical acknowledgment that the group was coming to a close, particularly its opening verses.

“To anyone who loves the Beatles, the bittersweet nostalgia of this music is hard to hear without a tear in the eye. Here, an entire era — the idealistic, innocent Sixties — is bravely bidden farewell.

“Having regretted this loss, the song shows us what it was all about in a quick kaleidoscopic resume of the group’s ambiguous blend of sadness, subversive laughter and resolute optimism. Everything hangs on the words ‘nowhere to go,’ arrived at ruefully but instantly spun around and seen from the other side: as freedom, as opportunity. The Beatles’ future may be gone but McCartney is determined to salvage their spirit, and that of the Sixties, for his future. ‘You Never Give Me Your Money’ marks the psychological opening of his solo career.”

** Emerick’s own conclusion about the Beatles’ breakup gave me a new perspective.

He begins with an opinion I found startling, given all his and others’ accounts of how well the Beatles could still get along even as their inter-personal troubles mounted:

“By the end, it’s fair to say that the four Beatles hated one another, for a variety of reasons. It’s actually understandable, considering all the time they’d spent together, stuck in hotel rooms and recording studios for year after year; no wonder they couldn’t wait to get away from one another. When the announcement was made, I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that it had been almost four years since they’d done their last tour. For four years, they had been doing nothing but recording in that dank, depressing place known as Abbey Road.”

Emerick goes on the discount the financial squabbles or presence of Yoko Ono as the key reasons for the end of the group, saying Ono was good for Lennon. He concludes:

“No, I always felt that the main reason for the breakup was irreconcilable artistic differences. John, Paul, and George Harrison simply wanted to follow different paths. John wanted to make art; Paul wanted to continue doing pop music; and George just wanted to pursue his Eastern interests. Sadly, inevitably, there was no common ground anymore, only a common history.”

So, having digested all this material over the last few months, where does that leave me as a Beatles fan?

I’ll explore that in part three of this little exercise, coming tomorrow.

#Beatles #Music #Music history #Sixties #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #rocknroll #beatles fan

2 notes · View notes

heather-in-heels · 6 years

Text

Sam

This is a love story, but it is only love in the sense of meeting a person who changes you forever. You meet them at a time in your life when you need their fresh set of eyes the most. As a result, you wind up in love with them. Not a romantic love, but a thoughtful love where you know you left an imprint on their heart and they left one on yours, too.

Sam was a New Yorker, I live in the Los Angeles Valley. East Coast. West Coast. Over 2000 miles in between. That has all the trappings for a romcom waiting to happen, but in reality it doesn’t pan out as meet cute as you imagine.

We met on Tinder. Another setback. This is the end all, be all, of the apps for hookups. Swiping and uploading your best photos — voila, maybe you find your true love because an algorithm and narcissism said it should be so!

I’ve always liked to read the captions. His read, “If you have a good world view and you enjoy movies, candy, wine, and adventures... I think we would get along just fine.”

Swipe right. Hard right.

So I gotta ask what you do for work cause you clearly have more than the rest of us :-)

Also... hi :-)

That was his first message to me. I had to dig far into the recesses of my Tinder profile to find it. The message made sense if you know me. Most of my online dating photos are me with brand mascots. I write about characters and they’re in 70%, if not more, of my iPhone’s photos.

Hi Sam. Winking emoji.

That was my first message back to him.

Sam was staying in Canoga Park, a part of the San Fernando Valley I knew well(ish). It was a little more foreign to him. Kind of like how I felt about Brooklyn, where he lived and I had never been.

We talked for several days, on and off the app. He asked me out. I said yes and our first date was on March 12th. Sunday. I never go out on Sunday nights. That’s because I am boring. I go to bed early. There was something about him, though. If the conversation in person was half as good as the one through text, I had to meet him. This could either work for or against me, but that’s the bet you take on any date.

When Sam walked into the restaurant/bar, my eyes felt like a row of jackpot symbols at a casino. He looked like the actor Patrick Wilson. He dressed well. He was funny and thoughtful and witty. I felt like I won some kind of lottery I didn’t know existed. We all put our best foot forward on the first date, but this wasn’t the best version of him. This was him. I was seeing every bright part right now. The color gold in a world gone gray.

This was exactly the kind of person I wanted to be with when I saw my future. Previously in this episode of Heather’s Life, I had dated nothing but scrubs as my girlfriends liked to call them. I didn’t know what it was like to date a good guy.

I went to the bathroom at one point and when I came out, he was chatting with the people at the table behind us. He had also hung up my coat, that I had carelessly tossed onto my chair, onto a hook. I stood and watched him speaking with these people for a moment, smiling. It was so him. Charming the whole room and everyone in it.

I’m leaving out my favorite detail. He came bearing a gift. We had been talking about our favorite candy before we met and I said mine were Twizzlers. He brought a pack with him.

I never ate the Twizzlers. It was such an unspeakably simple, kind act that I wanted to hang on to them.

We talked about our lives and selves and dreams. He told me about how he saw Daft Punk live at their Alive tour. We talked about our mutual love for EDM. He talked about his DJ’ing he had done before. Rick and Morty, and how he identified as Rick. Anne Hathaway, his celebrity crush. His dream of becoming a late night talk show host. How he hated missing the turn exits on the freeway and having to drive further out.

Sam was a man of spontaneity, something I, as a person, have never been able to do. No, wait. I was spontaneous once. I used to take trips, even though I had debt and little money to spend. Then I turned 30 and stopped doing a lot of things. Sam insisted that this was no excuse. No way to live. He had debt too, but it didn’t stop him from showing up or living life.

Hours later, we got ready to leave. He offered to give me a ride home. I never say yes to these kinds of offers. But, I felt safe with Sam. I knew it would be okay.

We drove the short distance back to my place, singing along to Taylor Swift on his Apple Music. Full blast to “Style.” We missed an exit on the way, but he laughed it off.

A good first date. An even better first kiss.

Life went on. He went home and I stayed put. Both of us worked a lot. I should add here that he worked so much. Rivaling myself, and that is not a good thing either.

A few months later, some texts in between, me going on dud dates with other guys, Sam texts me to say he’s coming back to California. “Let’s hang out!”

I jumped at the chance to see him again.

See, it happened. A second date. We weren’t supposed to get another, but we did and the catching up was even better the second time around. Things were changing for the both of us, on the up and up. I was getting my student loans paid off. He was interviewing for new design clients in San Diego.

Another drive back to my place together, and then we decided to go out again the next night.

Three dates? Inconceivable! He had a surprise for me this time. We were going to a carnival. He was the driver and I was the passenger. But, even though I had no idea where this carnival was, I still directed him to the right place. I had a feeling I knew where it was when he mentioned seeing certain landmarks and it wasn’t in Van Nuys. I won a stuffed otter as a prize.

Later that night (well, it was more like later that morning), we drove back to my place. I had a thought on the way there. Why go home at all? He had always wanted to go to Malibu and I live close enough. It was a beautiful night and I suggested that we drive down to the ocean.

Sam was so excited to do it. The drive was a straight shot down one road. The top to the car was down, the wind was blowing, and Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” was blasting on his Apple Music. It reminded me of that moment in the movie The Perks of Being a Wallflower when the main characters are driving through a tunnel listening to David Bowie and feeling, as the protagonist Charlie called it, infinite. Every time I turned to look at Sam, he was grinning from ear to ear. He was having the time of his life. And even though I was a mess, with my hair everywhere and no makeup on, I was too.

Life and time went on after that night and we went back to our respective worlds. October approached and with it the New York trip I was going on. I had been working myself to the bone every night after work for months and was exhausted and excited for it to finally come together. Sam had mentioned we could hang out when I got to New York. We FaceTimed a few times together and he, somewhat begrudgingly, admitted he would go with me to Katz’s Deli. There were way better food places than Katz’s to go to, he said.

What was our last conversation about? The last conversation I had no idea would be the last one? Bob Ross. He loved Bob Ross and I found a game on some website that you could play and told Sam about it. We admitted that it did look a little challenging to play and maybe it could be played by someone else later on.

That was the last time I talked to him.

I found out about Sam’s death on Friday September 28th. I was packing my suitcase for the New York trip. Then, I saw a Facebook post about him. He had died.

The five stages of grief rolled out fairly quickly. Denial, because it felt like a sick joke. Anger, because I could not understand. Bargaining, because all I could see was this beautiful, living, laughing boy. Why did he die when so many horrible men get to live? Depression. Acceptance.

I haven’t gone through the fifth stage yet. I think I’m still stuck in the fourth.

I put a black dress in my suitcase first, rolled into a tight ball. The Twizzlers occupied their own side pocket. I gradually packed throughout the night in between taking calls and answering texts from concerned friends and family. Sometimes I would pause while packing and stare off into space. Or I would pack while crying because my brain kept telling me to move forward.

When I arrived to the airport on Saturday, I felt like I was walking through JELL-O. Everything was a dull roar. I stared off aimlessly into space for about an hour before I decided to go sit at a bar. I drank at a rock and roll themed bar and talked to a stranger sitting next to me about what had happened. I don’t know how we stumbled into this conversation. He was a VP for a banking firm in New York. Had 500 employees under him. Knew what it was like to lose someone and shared his own story with me. I felt less alone.

The turning point, which I tell everyone about, happened at 12:30 AM on a Sunday morning. I had arrived to my hotel by then and didn’t know what to do with myself. I was hungry and went to the pizza place next door. In front of me was a couple from Australia. Behind me was a guy from Atlanta. Behind him was a woman from Fort Lauderdale. Everyone was from a different place in the world, all gathered together for pizza.

It changed everything for me, this moment. This was the first time in years where I felt a connection. I haven’t gone out or done much in awhile now. I sleep, I work, I go home, and work some more so I can pay my student loan off. This loan has taken over my life and it totally shows.

I don’t live, and I am trying very hard to get better about that. This is something Sam, in the little time I knew him, told me I needed to do. I used to fight him on this. Everything is too expensive. He would counter that he also had debt. I need to be working during this time. He told me you can work at any age. Finally, I would get to the bottom of it all and admit that everything was so fragile. My life is like a carpet that is always close to getting yanked out from underneath me. I don’t have a husband or children or a house or anything that a lot of people have at my age. I’ve gotten to the point where I am grabbing this carpet and refusing to let go because I am too afraid of what happens when there is no more carpet.

At the core of myself, this kind of behavior infuriates me. The me that I am and have always been. The me that Sam saw. She sees me doing this and knows it’s actually childish behavior. She is a person who tells me to be kinder, keep doing more, and do not believe one state or city or country can stop you. She keeps the faith that it will all work out even though she doesn’t know how.

That Sunday morning was the first time in awhile I felt connected.

Several hours later, I prepared to say goodbye. I had asked his cousin in advance if I could go to his service, out of concern that it would not be appropriate since I knew so little about him. She graciously said I could go. The outfit I had to wear, the drive into Brooklyn, the absolute feeling that this was concrete and final. He was gone.

The drive to Brooklyn was my first one there. As the car got closer to the building, I saw all of the cop cars blocking off the streets and everyone heading into the building. There were so many people. Every single one impacted by him. Most of them were crying.

I had never been to a funeral for an Orthodox Jewish family before. The actual burial would take place off-site. No cremation. No flowers or wake. A shiva would be held on Wednesday. The men and women sat on opposite sides of the room with folding tables standing in place between us. We may have been separated, but grief held everyone together like a nasty cobweb we were all trapped inside.

The first moment I heard the fine print details behind Sam’s debt was when his brother delivered his speech. I knew Sam had debt, of course. Knew how much and how he had incurred this debt.

What I didn’t know that even in debt Sam kept giving to everyone he knew. He continued to financially support his family. He paid for everything he could with the little he had. He gave what a reasonable person would not or what they would try to excuse themselves from doing. When I told him I was coming to New York, he offered to let me stay at his place. I laughed when I heard that. Part of it was because it was funny, since I assured him I already had a hotel room. The other part was that I could not imagine making an offer to a person I barely knew.

In retrospect, I saw that every action, every decision, came from a place where kindness and love were put forth first. Give, and maybe ask questions later. He loved you for who you were and wanted to be there to support you at every turn.

I cried a lot.

When I left, a monarch butterfly flew in front of my Lyft car. That butterfly was completely Sam’s spirit. I just knew it. He would not want me to go back to the hotel and cry. This was a big week for my career and my dreams. Months of hard work went into this week. I could not disappoint the people involved. This meant just as much to me as it did to them.

What followed, in light of a deeply dark day, was a beautiful week. The gala was a hit, I walked up to the NASDAQ stage instead of crawling this year (young me crawled so I could walk... I get it now!), and the panel was amazing.

“Great minds unthink alike.” It was the company 15th anniversary theme and one I felt throughout the entire week. Connection remained a personal running theme for myself. I felt myself connect in New York City. This was a city that used to scare me during previous visits because I didn’t think I had a place there. It was different this time. I have friends, I have work. I have a network that I did not have years ago. I can walk anywhere. Everything is open 24/7, there’s something new to explore, and new faces just waiting to be met.

I saw a similar monarch butterfly a week ago. It made me smile. I knew it was him. Don’t ask me how I knew something like this. I just do.

Sam came into my life at a time when I needed a new perspective. He taught me that there are men out there that will love me for who I am. He also taught me to go out there and chase adventure. I’m 30. I’ll be 31 soon. It sounds like it’s a little late in life to learn lessons like these, but I don’t think it is.

I wonder if this is just the beginning.

For the rest of my life, I will be thankful to have known him. A little bit of time is better than no time at all and he was, and will always be, a teenage dream to me.

#personal

6 notes · View notes

amytisofmedia · 7 years

Text

On Harvey Weinstein and the Visibility of Abusers

One of the things I’m struggling with the post in these post-Weinstein days (incepted within a Post-Trump world in which every hour feels like a day and I’m aging faster than a Millennial Avocado™) are the dubious levels of sincerity + timing of all the celebrity statements rolling out. To be clear, I mean the blanket condemnations of his actions and not the contributions to stories of abuse. The dozens upon dozens of Twitter statements, online editorial submissions and assistant-typed PR approved submissions of solidarity with the victims and call for change. In short, they are the Hollywood scandal equivalent to tweeting “Thoughts and Prayers (prayer hands emoji)” on twitter after a mass shooting du jour if you’re a politician. While I feel it runs a little hollow would be an understatement, I’m concerned about the wide cast of ignorance so many of our beloved A-listers are attempting to hide under between these statements.

There have been a few celebrities in particular that have been soundly twitter-checked back into the past a few times so far on their alleged knowledge of Weinsteinian behaviour (we all see you, Batfleck). A few haven’t been publicly confronted because the megawatt of their shine is still too bright to get near. But with the allegations of abuse, cover ups, and just the nature of the business do not lend much weight to their claims. They knew, many more knew and colluded to keep it quiet or even benefited from it and it’s likely we will never know for sure or get their names and full crimes. Because here is the thing: it is outright career suicide right now to be honest and bottom line is these are the kinds of people who will do anything to protect their own skin. It’s what kept Weinstein in orbit for decades despite his victims now racking up into the double digits days after the news broke. He knew the power he had over people’s careers surpassed any moral quibbles they may have had and he manipulated as such.

All the women’s stories as they come forward are starting to paint a picture of how he operated and the similarities, while disturbing and distressing, are clear: he wasn’t conducting his misgivings in the shadows. People knew. Not just other celebrities, producers, journalists but his own company, colleagues and subordinates. The ones still at the top distancing themselves from him only now that they recognize it is a dead horse far too big to bury? They knew. People were culpable to his crimes and did nothing for years, so how are we supposed to believe anyone now? When you only do the right thing because it has become a financial liability for the company and associates it strikes little confidence in the general public.

Perhaps most distressing of all is the timeline in which the statements have all happened in the overall toppling of Harvey Weinstein’s career. As if everyone waited on tenterhooks for the Hollywood heavy hitters to take their first swing as to allow everyone else to follow en masse. It feels opportunistic to polish their own images as they waited for confirmation it was The Right Thing To Do now, versus before, when many had “suspicions” but knew it would tarnish their reputation to speak out. It especially irks to hear male stars reminisce about what they didn’t do to help with assorted regrets. It’s been mentioned to death but actresses, established and upcoming, had much more to lose. If Ben Affleck and Matt Damon’s piss poor attempts at wading into this story have shown anything it is that many men benefited from the aura of power Weinstein had over women, if not outright participated as well.

Weinstein, then, is a bit like a fat little sacrificial lamb to slaughter that will take the symbolical fall while other predators and guilty parties become more savvy and better protected. Many of the celebrities who have released statements of disgust and vehemence for Weinstein’s crimes have also (recently!) enjoyed a working relationship with the likes of Polanski and Woody (and I’m talking post-Dylan’s damning open letter just in case you can argue they were just okay with whole marrying your daughter schtick). The problem is and will always be that Hollywood, the great gurgling machine of glitz, entertainment and distraction, is just too incestuous for most people to risk their entire livelihoods on speaking out against someone who may be their next meal ticket. And it becomes easier to turn a blind eye to someone’s past transgressions - as despicable as they may be - when you spend a couple months working with them on said meal ticket and meet them in a relationship where you’re not that their victim.

Harvey Weinstein didn’t exist in a vacuum and neither did his crimes. His time, reputation and money didn’t just go into keeping his own assaults under cover but there are many men who have come in contact with him that will continue to wait this whole ordeal out silently at risk of bringing the floodlights closer to their own skeletons. In Harvey’s hey-day he brought a Tarantino film to the Oscars and launched the career of a now A-lister as a result. Shortly before, said actor was embroiled in a controversy involving intoxicated domestic abuse against a former girlfriend, the police report details of which were pretty violent. His new trajectory to stardom meant that story got buried and is seldom brought up now that he’s achieved greatness as a heavily sought after dramatic actor. I’m not going to name him because mentioning his abusive past makes his fans so itchy but it rather proves my point.

David O Russell is another in question that has had his films time and again courted to awards season by Weinstein despite allegations by his own niece of inappropriate touching (in addition, O Russell has a painfully fraught past of being a nutcase to crew and stars alike but I digress). I can go on -- both about those with PR-smoothed pasts adjacent to Weinstein’s orbit and those in the general past and contemporary history of Hollywood who got away with assault, rape, coercion, etc but this brings me back to my original suspicion of authenticity in celebrity contempt. Weinstein was a powerful man who got off on abusing that power frequently with the vulnerable women of the industry. But shit, he pulled some awful repugnant men into his orbit along the way who followed suit.

Was Harvey Weinstein just easier to sacrifice because he wasn’t as visible or beloved as the others guilty of similar crimes? The public knows his name, for sure, and thanks to comedic jabs over the years, knew a little of his dogged reputation if only by the surface level. But his dough-faced, balding visage wasn’t one that endeared the public of that most folks would be able to identify. His position as producer afforded him almost God-like power within the industry, but outside it, to the casual moviegoer or gossip aficionado there wasn’t much stock in the perseverance of his reputation. That’s because we identify with the creative works we love and hold dear and associate them with those most visibly aligned with them (actors, directors, writers, usually in that order) and are encouraged to see parts of ourselves in their carefully constructed brands.

It becomes very personal when someone you feel you know so well yet so distantly is accused of something so unspeakable. And the Hollywood spin machine is a 24/7 running beast that will quickly give you the talking points you need for denial. After all, the accusers are usually nobodies; anonymous entities on par with the audience’s own status of powerlessness where as the accused is beloved actor of That Franchise You Grew Up With or Hunkiest Non-Threatening TV Star of The Year. They couldn’t have done it. They’re good guys. The scripted, tiresome material of every sexual assault trial but played to the perfect pitch of the world’s most uneven power imbalance. I’ve been reading every statement released on the Weinstein drama and the line that keeps popping up to sit fuzzily in my head is the call to arms for change. The impassioned, if a little scripted, imploring for steps to take in order to prevent this happening again.

I suppose I’m still waiting for the follow up statements condemning all the blockbuster heavyhitters, the beloved directors and all anonymous and powerful producers in the shadows as well. Show me you’re serious about it when all the other “open secrets” are dumped in spotlight and the countless powerful men with multiple rape and abuse histories are taken down with Weinstein. One thing that’s become evident is the life cycle of a predator in Hollywood is as historically engrained as the star system of the silver screen days. It involves the culture enabling the abuse and unchecked power imbalances. Cover up with PR and lawyers if it becomes too obvious. If outed and press won’t let go and audience are not quick to forgive from attempts of previous step, lay low for an indeterminable amount of time and await your glorious return. I can name about 20-30 big, beloved actors, directors and producers that all fit the bill for that formula past and present. It’s going to take a bit more than an emotional statement to fix this.

#harvey weinstein #the new antichrist #but don't forget the industry is full of them!#in all fairness I have been waiting for years for Weinstein to get the axe #if the industry would stop honouring rapists at the oscars and shit I would feel more confident in their condemnations tho

6 notes · View notes

faunusrights · 7 years

Text

enclosure (a faunus!Weiss fic)

@maburito ask and ye shall receive..... :3c

Just a little 2,300 fic I knocked out which explains the context behind this Great Weiss Shark AU illustration I did! It’s covering a lot of details around this AU and a lot about Weiss herself, and although I’ve spent all day editing it I still can’t tell if it’s any good so -SHRUG EMOJI x1000- this is what happens when you write at 3am I guess.

Available to read on AO3.

Blake had found out about the viewing room a handful of weeks after arriving at Beacon.

Okay, they hadn’t meant to. Not really. They’d just been wandering in the lower bowels of Beacon was all, trying to map out the place in their head. Beacon was a labyrinth sometimes, and more than once Ruby had called someone on their Scroll just to get directions to a classroom. Blake’s always been wary of places this big, knowing anything could hide around the corners, so they’d been exploring when they found a door left ajar. ‘VIEWING ROOM’ had been inscribed on a plain plastic plaque, and they’d poked their head inside for just a second because what even was a ‘viewing room’ anyway?

That’s when they found themself looking into the huge pool in Beacon’s gymnasium, a thick wall of glass allowing a clear view of beneath the water’s surface. It had to be for instructors, Blake had reckoned at the time, so they could watch students perform swimming trials and the like. But they hadn’t really cared for that, not when it was a quiet room in the sub-basement of Beacon. For Blake, this was a sanctuary.

See, Beacon Academy is hard to manage when you like to have space to think straight. Blake’s lived in plenty of noisy places - camps, cities, Menagerie as a whole - where silence was a commodity often found in minutes, but Beacon encouraged such close relations with other students that sometimes it’s hard to breathe. For years, Blake had managed to maintain a bubble of personal space they carefully guarded, but with a team like RWBY and a partner like Yang… well, Blake’s not quite adjusted yet. When it comes to the Xiao-Long’s affection is easily and carelessly given, and whilst Blake’s sure they’ll get used to it eventually, they need somewhere to just be alone for a while.

So that’s where the viewing room comes in, and after staying there for hours at a time Blake’s pretty sure no other students really know about it. They - both the room and the pool - are usually abandoned before and after classes, and Blake takes advantage of that for all it’s worth, sitting in a blueish glow and watching the water until their thoughts align just so. It’s peaceful and private, and that’s all they can really ask for.

Which is why, when Blake heads down one evening, they’re a little surprised to find there’s someone in the pool. Even more surprisingly it’s Weiss, cutting through the water like it’s not even really there. She’s kicking off the walls and grazing the bottom of the pool with the tips of her fingers, and she doesn’t even notice Blake as they press their hands to the cool surface of the window, watching with a slackened jaw.

For a long time, Blake hadn’t known Weiss had existed. Not in a ‘I wasn’t paying attention’ sort of way, and not because they’d had more pressing things to worry about (although there were those, too). Everyone in the White Fang knew that the second Schnee child had been a stillborn, or had died young of illness, or had been born weakened and sickly, or- well, the exact details tended to change depending on who you spoke to, but the end result had always been the same. Weiss was supposed to have been buried in an early grave, as confirmed by her own father. Of course, this meant Blake had been just a touch astonished when Weiss had introduced herself for the first time on Beacon’s forecourt. They’d been even more stunned at the sight of jagged teeth and a slitted pupil, the other eye a cloudy grey with a thick scar bisecting it, blinding it.

Weiss wasn’t only alive, but she was a Faunus, as she later affirmed in RWBY’s new dorm room not two days later. A shark Faunus, with gills and teeth and eyes to match.

Talk about surreal. Blake’s ears had started twitching something chronic under their bow, a desperate plea of me too me too look we’re the same. It’d also presented so many questions whilst answering so few, although Blake got a very good idea of why her father had chosen to live as though she’d died. To be honest, they’re still struggling to imagine what it’d be like to live under the same roof as someone who despises the very blood in your veins.

Blake thinks that’s probably a good thing.

Weiss dips low in the water again, whole body turning like the flow of a ribbon. It’s no secret she likes to swim - every few evenings she’ll leave with a change of clothes in a bag, only to return an hour or so later with her short hair damp with the chemical tang of chlorine. It’s more than just a hobby, too, because when the pool was closed for a week for a thorough cleaning, Weiss had nearly paced herself into a hole out of frustration. Blake gets that - it’s hard to blow off steam when your usual methods are blocked off to you, and they can still remember the look on Weiss’s face when Ruby timidly asked if she’d like to go down to the local pool in Vale with RBY if, y’know, that was a thing she might like to do?

She’d declined at the time, mumbling something about privacy and too many people, but she’d had a smile on her face lingering long after Ruby had asked.

What this meant, though, was that this was the first time Blake’s ever seen Weiss swim. She tends to head to the pool not long before lights out, so Blake’s never down in the room at the same time. She doesn’t like swimming with others, either, as they all found out when Yang asked if she could tag along only for Weiss to very firmly reject her offer. Blake thinks they know why, especially when Weiss struggles to even change clothes with people around, so they’ve never pushed it.

But today it’s early evening, with dinner in less than an hour, and Weiss is ahead of schedule so Blake gets to watch.

And she’s so pretty. Weiss is a little… awkward on land, to put it gently. She’s all wiry and bony, and even though there’s a poise to her stance and in the way she walks, Blake’s just realising it doesn’t really compare to how she moves in the water. It feels like they’re watching a trick of the light, a flash of silver and white in the blue as her body twists with the water. She moves fast, as well - some people can splash and kick and wave their arms to almost no avail, but it looks like Weiss just has to think about it and she’s soaring forwards, going from one end of the pool to the other in a matter of seconds. It helps that she doesn’t need to surface, either, her gills flexing with every twist of her body. Weiss keeps them hidden when she can, becoming distinctly nervous when they’re on display, but now each line is dark and distinct as she rises and falls. In fact, for the entire time Blake’s pressed against the glass, Weiss never once breaks the surface.

Problem is, they’ve ended up so transfixed that they don’t even realise that Weiss is swimming past the glass with a look of confusion etched across her face. She slows just long enough to press her hands to Blake’s, blinking once, then twice, before her mouth falls opens in a silent ‘oh’.

A rush of embarrassment hits Blake, heat climbing up their neck, and they step away from the glass like they’ve been struck. They shouldn’t have lingered as long as they have, should’ve turned around and left Weiss well enough alone; this is clearly her space to think, too. They start to mumble out apologies before remembering that Weiss won’t be able to hear them anyway, but then she just frowns and points upwards with a few harsh jabs of her finger. Then, once she’s sank low enough for her toes to touch the bottom of the pool, she pushes upwards and rises out of sight entirely.

And Blake follows, because the least they can do is say sorry to her face.

The pool is deserted, as expected. Blake pads through the changing room and notices only one bag on the bench - Weiss’s, her uniform neatly folded beside it - and when they step out onto the poolside where the smell of chlorine is strongest, the entire room is empty. It feels strange to see, especially considering the few times Blake’s been here it’s been packed to the rafters with other students, but they don’t have to wait long for company. With a crash of water Weiss surfaces from below, palms striking the slick tiles as she pulls herself up and out of the water with ease. Every time Ruby’s tried to climb out of the pool like that she usually winds up beached on her stomach like a seal, but not Weiss. Instead, she’s running a hand through dripping hair, feet still submerged and swimming outfit soaked to a navy blue that’s nearly black, and Blake watches her gills flex closed before she turns to fix them with a look.

“What were you doing down there?”

Blake takes a while to answer, but that because they’re a little distracted. Maybe someone would make a joke about Weiss’s swimsuit showing off a lot of skin, but it’s mostly because Blake’s never seen her like this before - no clothes like armour to cover all the vulnerabilities. Aquatic Faunus are a rarer breed, found mostly on the islands around the likes of Menagerie, Mistral and Vacuo, and Blake’s fascinated and just a bit jealous. Every Faunus has low-light vision no matter their blood, and the sharpened hearing and sharper teeth Blake can boast is shared by thousands of other Faunus. But those like Weiss are one in a hundred - even less than that, if tales of her kind being hunted for their teeth and eyes and blood are to be believed.

Blake believes them. They’ve met Faunus of every sort who’d barely survived those types of encounters before.

But they’ve been staring too long, because Weiss looks about ten different shades of uncomfortable as she pulls her feet from the water, tucking them beneath her so she can stand up. For the first time Blake sees that she’s lithe in a way that’s not wholly human - too thin in some places, too elongated in others - and again their ears twitch. Blake can relate. People think they look out of proportion, too.

“Whatever,” Weiss says, short and irritated. “I didn’t care anyway. Isn’t that room off-limits?”

Blake bites their lip, picking off dead skin until they taste blood. “No. Unless someone just keeps forgetting to lock it.” After a second, they follow up with, “Sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know you were here already.”

Weiss has to turn her head a little further so she can properly look at them, and Blake steps out of her blind spot with another quiet sorry. She doesn’t say anything at first but she’s too expressionless for Blake to figure out what she’s feeling, so they start mentally trying to word an excuse to leave when Weiss speaks up again.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding all this time?”

Blake’s nod hardly counts as more than a flinch, but they press on regardless. “Yeah. It’s solitary, and quiet.” And there’s no-one around to see if Blake takes off their bow for a handful of minutes, which is a luxury they haven’t afforded Weiss. So, in the interest of levelling the playing field a little, Blake raises their hands and unties the ribbon. Weiss just squints at first, but then the silk falls to Blake’s side and her eyes go comically wide. “It’s private, too.”

The swallow that runs down the narrow column of Weiss’s neck is thick, and she starts and stops for a few syllables before she just runs a hand over her face, water trailing down her temple. “That would… that’d explain it, yes.”

She stares off at the far end of the pool for a minute, so Blake reties the bow over aching ears. Part of their brain is going you shouldn’t have done that what if she tells everyone what were you trying to even prove, but when Weiss looks back to them she’s got a little smile that’s warm and friendly, and Blake’s left wondering how often she smiles like that at all. “We’re talking about that, by the way. Would’ve made things less lon- awkward, if you’d told me from the start.”

“Yeah, well.” Blake shrugs. “I didn’t expect you to be a Faunus with a name like that.”

Her laugh echoes around them like a first notes of a song, a siren’s call, and she combs her hand through her hair again. “True. I suppose none of us are how we really expected though, right?”

With that, Weiss lets out a long breath before bringing her arms up and over her head, pressing her palms together as she rises onto her toes. Muscle ripples just under her skin, and Blake’s just as awed as they were beneath the pool all over again, nearly missing Weiss’s next words.

“I’m going back to the dorm soon, but… I suppose you can keep watching, if you like.” The smile she has now is a little cheeky, especially considering that Blake’s just stood there gawking, again.

“... Sure.” The syllable is barely out of Blake’s mouth before Weiss bends and dives below the water’s surface, the outline of her body blurring as she glides away, and Blake watches her pale figure until they can hardly make her out against the tiles anymore.

Maybe it was a good time to start having company more often.

#rwby #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #checkmating #monochrome #great weiss shark #my writing #idk if this is good lmao

22 notes · View notes

travelguy4444 · 5 years

Text

The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell

Posted: 4/4/2019 | April 4th, 2019

A few years ago, I read the book The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell. I think it originally came up as a suggested book on Amazon. I can’t fully remember. But, I stuck it in my queue, ordered it, and it sat on my bookshelf until it was time to read it. I couldn’t put it down. It was funny, well written, interesting, and an insightful look into Danish culture. It was one of my favorite books I read that year.

Last year, I somehow convinced Helen to speak at TravelCon and got to meet her in person. Now, she has a new book out called The Atlas of Happiness. It’s about why people in certain places are happier than others. It’s a phenomenal book (you should get it). Today, Helen shares some of what she learned in researching that book!

Here’s a funny thing: if you’ve been online today for more than a fraction of a second, you may have started to get the sense that the world is A Terrible Place. Even the committed traveler with an open mind could be forgiven for thinking that the outlook is pretty bleak.

And if you’ve seen the headlines today or been on social media and you’re feeling low as a result, you’re not alone.

It’s easy to get the idea that the world is becoming more miserable by the minute and that happiness is a luxury in these troubled times.

But over the past six years, I’ve learned that there are people all around the world finding ways to stay happy, every day. And that happiness is something we’re hardwired to seek out – wherever we are.

I started researching happiness in 2013 when I relocated from the UK to Denmark. I’d spent 12 years living and working in London as a journalist, and I had no intention of leaving, until out of the blue one wet Wednesday, my husband came home and told me he’d been offered his dream job…working for Lego in rural Jutland. I was skeptical to start with — I had a good career, a nice flat, great friends, close family — I had a life.

Okay, so my husband and I both worked long hours, we were tired all the time, and never seemed to be able to see each other very much. We regularly had to bribe ourselves to get through the day and we’d both been ill on and off for the past six months.

But that was normal, right?

We thought we were ‘living the dream.’ I was 33 years old and we’d also been trying for a baby for as long as either of us could remember, enduring years of fertility treatment, but we were always so stressed that it never quite happened.

So when my husband was offered a job in Denmark, this ‘other life’ possibility was dangled in front of us — the chance to swap everything we knew for the unknown. Denmark had just been voted the world’s happiest country in the UN’s annual report and I became fascinated by this. How had a tiny country of just 5.5m people managed to pull off the happiest nation on earth title? Was there something in the water? And if we couldn’t get happier in Denmark, where could we get happier?

During our first visit, we noticed that there was something a bit different about the Danes we met. They didn’t look like us, for starters — quite apart from the fact that they were all strapping Vikings towering over my 5’3” frame — they looked more relaxed and healthier. They walked more slowly. They took their time to stop and eat together, or talk, or just…breathe.

And we were impressed.

My Lego Man husband was sold on the idea and begged me to move, promising we’d relocate for my career next time. And I was so worn out by my hectic London life that I found myself agreeing. I quit my job to go freelance and decided I would give it a year, investigating the Danish happiness phenomenon first hand — looking at a different area of living each month to find out what Danes did differently.

From food to family life; work culture to working out; and design to the Danish welfare state — each month I would throw myself into living ‘Danishly’ to see if it made me any happier and if I could change the way I lived as a result. I decided I would interview as many Danes, expats, psychologists, scientists, economists, historians, sociologists, politicians, everyone, in fact, to try to uncover the secrets to living Danishly.

I documented my experiences for two UK newspapers before being asked to write a book: The Year of Living Danishly, Uncovering the Secrets of the World’s Happiest Country.

Since then, I’ve been humbled and moved to hear from readers from across the globe with wide-ranging life perspectives, but the one constant was a need to share the happiness secrets of their own cultures. Some of the themes that sprung out were universal — such as social interactions, exercising out of doors and finding a balance in life — while others were intriguingly unique.

So I set out to research into unique happiness concepts from around the world, interviewing people internationally until The Atlas of Happiness — my new book-baby — was born. It isn’t a compendium of the happiest countries; instead, it’s a look at what’s making people happier in different places. Because if we only look at the countries already coming top of the happiness polls, we miss out on ideas and knowledge from cultures we’re less familiar with.

Nowhere is perfect. Every country has faults. But I wanted to celebrate the best parts of a country’s culture as well as national characteristics at their finest – because that’s what we should all be aiming for.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Did you know, for example, that in Portuguese there’s something called saudade — a feeling of longing, melancholy, and nostalgia for a happiness that once was — or even a happiness you merely hoped for?

And while Brazil may be famous for its carnival spirit, the flipside of this, saudade, is so central to the Brazilian psyche that it’s even been given its own official ‘day’ on the 30th of January every year.

Most of us will have experienced a bittersweet pleasure in moments of melancholy — flicking through old photos, or caring about anyone enough to miss them when they’re gone.

And scientists have found that this temporary sadness — counter-intuitively — makes us happier: providing catharsis; improving our attention to detail; increasing perseverance and promoting generosity. So we should all spend time remembering those we’ve loved and lost — then practice being a little more grateful for the ones still around.

Finland ranked number one in this year’s UN World Happiness report thanks to a great quality of life, free healthcare, and education funded by high taxes.

But there’s also something else the Finns enjoy that’s infinitely more exportable: kalsarikännit — defined as ‘drinking at home in your underwear with no intention of going out’ — a pursuit so popular it even has its own emoji, commissioned by The Finnish Foreign Ministry.

In common with most Scandinavians, Finns aren’t shy about disrobing, and they all have such enviably well-insulated houses that stripping down to their pants is apparently completely okay even when it’s minus 35 degrees outside. What you drink and crucially how much of it you knock back is down to the individual, but it’s a uniquely Finnish form of happiness and mode of relaxation that we can all give a go.

In Greece, they have a concept called meraki that refers to an introspective, precise expression of care, usually applied to a cherished pastime — and it’s keeping Greeks happy despite turbulent times. This is because having a hobby improves our quality of life according to scientists, and challenging ourselves to do something different also creates new neural pathways in our brain. Having a passion that you take pride can be of extra benefit to those who can’t say the same for their primary occupation.

Because meraki can make life worthwhile if your 9-5 is more of a daily grind. Many tasks that need to be taken care of on a day-to-day basis aren’t particularly challenging or inspiring – from filing, to raising purchase orders or even — dare I say it — some of the more gruelling aspects of parenting.

But we can break up the never-ending cycle of mundane work with our own personal challenges — things that we’re passionate about that we can genuinely look forward to doing. Our meraki.

Dolce far niente — or the sweetness of doing nothing — is a much-treasured concept in Italy — often hashtagged on Instagram accompanying pictures of Italians in hammocks. Okay, so Italy hasn’t exactly topped any happiness rankings in recent years, but the cliché of the carefree Italian still exists – and with good reason.

Italians do ‘nothing’ like no other nation and perfecting the art takes style and skill – because there’s more to it than meets the eye. It’s watching the world go by over coffee and a cornetto. It’s laughing at tourists. Or politicians. And crucially it’s about savoring the moment and really enjoying the present. Many of us search for relaxation by traveling to exotic locations, drinking to oblivion, or trying to blot out the noise of modern life.

But Italians let the chaos wash over them. Instead of saving up our ‘fun quota’ for an annual escape, they spread it over the minutes, hours and days throughout the year and ‘enjoy life’ in all its messy reality.

One of the happiest countries in the world, the Norwegians must be doing something right. And quite aside from their enviable Scandi-lifestyles and the safety net of all that oil, Norwegians have a secret ace card up their sleeves: a concept called friluftsliv. This roughly translates as ‘free air life’ and it’s a code of conduct as well as a life goal for most Norwegians – who like to spend time outdoors and get high, as often as possible.

Anyone who’s ever visited the country will know that if you meet a Norwegian out in nature, their objective tends to be the highest mountain nearby – and there’s a saying in Norway that “You must make an effort before you can have pleasure’.

Most Norwegians believe you have to work for things, to earn them with physical endeavors, battling the elements. Only once you’ve climbed a mountain in the rain and cold, can you truly enjoy your dinner. It’s an old fashioned approach to the good life but numerous studies show that using our bodies and getting out into nature as often as possible boosts mental and physical wellbeing.

Which is all very well, on paper. But how to apply these principles and all the things I’d learned in real life? Well, I took it slowly — dolce far niente style. I had to learn not to be the archetypal Londoner, working all hours. Instead, I had to try relaxing once in a while.

Radical, I know.

Next, I got on the hobby train. I found my meraki in pottery, in cooking and trying out new recipes, often inspired by the countries I was researching. Some weeks, we ate well. Others, not so much (my husband still hasn’t forgiven me for ‘Russian month’). I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve done a fair amount of underwear-drinking, too.

The Finnish concept of kalsarikännit and I are now firm friends. And because I was working less and being more mindful of living well and looking after myself, it was relatively easy to adopt the Norwegian ethos of friluftsliv.

So now I try to ask myself: what did I do today? What did I climb? Where did I go? But the biggest mind shift was the realization that to be happy, we have to be comfortable being sad sometimes, too. That we’re at our healthiest and happiest when we can reconcile ourselves to all our emotions, good and bad.

The Portuguese saudade was a game changer for me — helping me to come to terms with the life I thought I’d have and find a way to move on, without resentment or bitterness. Because when you let go of these things, something pretty amazing can happen.

By learning from other cultures about happiness, wellbeing and how to stay healthy (and sane), I found a way to be less stressed than I was in my old life. I developed a better understanding of the challenges and subtleties of coming from another culture. My empathy levels went up. I learned to care, more.

Optimism isn’t frivolous: it’s necessary. You’re travelers. You get this. But we need to spread the word, now, more than ever. Because we only have one world, so it would be really great if we didn’t mess it up.

Hellen Russell is a British journalist, speaker, and the author of the international bestseller The Year of Living Danishly. Her most recent book, The Atlas of Happiness, examines the cultural habits and traditions of happiness around the globe. Formerly the editor of marieclaire.co.uk, she now writes for magazines and newspapers around the world, including Stylist, The Times, Grazia, Metro, and The i Newspaper.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and cheap hotels. I use them all the time.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those over 70)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all the ones I use to save money when I travel – and that will save you time and money too!

The post The Atlas of Happiness: Discovering the World’s Secret to Happiness with Helen Russell appeared first on Nomadic Matt's Travel Site.

source https://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-blogs/atlas-of-happiness/

0 notes