#except with an attempt at a real costume and somewhat more of an effort when it comes to proxemics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years

Note

Imagine this: You are at a small party and you get bored with all the mindless chattering and gossip. You say you need some fresh air and head outside. Sighing, you place your wine glass down on a table and take off your heels. "Good evening.", a voice calls out from behind you. Your eyes meet mesmerizing scarlet. You know this man. But does he know you? "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?" Smiling as you cringe at his words, you take his hand. (1/2)

Holy shit, Anon!

Before I start, I need to tell you that I am obsessed with this ask, and literally started mentally writing this the MINUTE I read through. Please pardon a little creative license; I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy!

Edit 22 Oct. 2021- As a special request, there is another part to this fic, told from Gil’s perspective this time. Thank you for reading!

It isn't as hard to slip away from the festivities as it should be; everyone is already so deep into their drinks that they wouldn't really notice even if you did made an effort to announce your departure.

You take the miracle at face value however, weaving through various groups and couples to the kitchen, topping up your single glass of wine and stealing a few pieces of food.

For a few minutes, all is quiet in your little haven, only the soft lighting from the stove and a jack-o-lantern keeping you company. You finish off a few bites, and just as you're about to grab some more food, a couple stumbles through the doorway, oblivious to everyone and everything.

Deciding you would rather leave than interrupt them, you slip out the back door, closing it softly behind you.

Sunset is painting the sky in vibrant lilac and rose, birdsong still carrying across the yard. The day is still fairly warm, and you slip your shoes off with a sigh, wiggling your toes through the grass as you make your way to a white bistro set.

There are two empty chairs, and you happily take the nearest one, setting your glass on the table, happy to melt into the iron.There is nothing except the beautiful sky and a newfound inner peace. Blessed silence after all the hullabaloo and gossipmongering from the past hour.

"G'evenin'."

Dammit.

You hadn't noticed anyone else slipping outside, or hanging out in the yard. And now you'll have to make small talk again and feign interest in whatever pointless topics come up. Terrific.

Not bothering to even glance at your companion, who is already making himself comfortable in the other chair, you offer a frustrated sigh. "Hi."

"Oof. Little bitterness there."

Whoever he is, he sounds concerned, if not bemused.

Despite your irritation at having your privacy interrupted, you don your manners once more, turning to him with a smile you don't really feel. "Long night, sorry."

He hums. "That I get. More like a long week I think."

The admission and his tone have you breathing out the ghost of a laugh. "You got me there."

He's surprisingly quiet for a few minutes, seemingly just as content as you are to watch the skyscape. You find you're not nearly as uncomfortable with the company as you would have expected.

Subtly, you try to figure out exactly who he is, though the design of his mask makes it absolutely impossible. Really, the only thing you can make out are his eyes, a vibrant red you're sure are contacts.

You can't help but ogle his costume; he's dressed as if he stepped right out of a portrait, and if you didn't know better you would swear that was a genuine sapphire resting against his chest. And then there's his mask-

Scarlet eyes flicker your way, his lips turning up in a grin when he realizes you've been staring. "See something you like?"

You're far too embarrassed, yet somehow- "Jury's still out."

The grin grows even bigger, showing off the fangs that complete his ensemble.

With how pale he is, you mentally decide, it's the perfect outfit for him.

You had thrown yours together on a whim, using a thrifted evening dress, hand-me-down jewelry, and a fake tiara you had worn a few times during your childhood. Ironically, the only part of your ensemble that was expensive is the mask itself, a custom piece that cost more than the rest of your outfit put together.

Now, sitting next to someone who looks like he stepped out of the 1800s, obnoxiously blue jacket and all, you feel a little underdressed, the feeling passing by as you realize he's discarded his own shoes and socks sometime ago.

There's something familiar about him, his slight slouch teasing at a memory from long ago.

You would think, considering how few people are actually here, you would recognize him, would be able to figure out who he is.

But his eyes are strangers to you, his voice is... unique.

The not-knowing is more aggitating than his company, enough that it is the sole reason for your next words to him.

"As lovely as this has been, do you mind?"

There's no real expression on his face as he turns to you. "Nope. Do you?"

That was a challenge. You can see it in his eyes, heard the playful hitch in his voice. God help you, he's annoying.

"Yes, actually." Deciding to press further, because why-the-hell not, you offer your own challenge. "You're interrupting my alone time."

"Pardon the intrusion, milady, but I'm pretty sure this is neutral territory."

"I was here first," you retort, a bit childishly.

He snorts, folding his arms across his chest, falling further into his chair, posture absolutely intended to mock you. "Were you, though?"

Dammit, he had you.

You shoot him a scathing look, one that was frankly just a little on the playful side, before folding your own arms and pretending to scowl at the setting sun.

A few more minutes pass, before you hear his voice again. "So..." he says, dragging out the sound in a pointed attempt at getting you to talk to him.

You ignore him, or you attempt to at least. It's kind of hard to do that when he's standing now, just inside your peripheral, head turned towards the heavens.

Finally realizing that you have no plans of responding, he takes another step, now more-or-less directly in your line of sight. "Why're you alone out here? Party's inside, ya know."

You level an unamused stare at his pointed question, a hint of bemusement coating your reply. "I could ask you the same thing."

He smirks, some quick, passing thing, before he hides it behind a small sip of his beer. "Touché."

Somehow, that brief exchange has revitalized you, and you take another drink from your wine, watching some birds make their final rounds for the evening.

The sky is shifting, darkening with each passing moment. And inside, the party is getting louder, laughter carrying out to you from the still partially open door.

He glances back towards the house, an odd expression on his face. You follow his gaze, almost instinctively, turning back to him curiously when you can't determine the cause of his- Discomfort? Irritation?

"You ever just want to run away?"

His question takes you by surprise, and you feel your heart constrict when his focus once more turns to you, achingly familiar eyes seemingly- haunted.

Whatever annoyance you had held previously is gone, replaced with something you don’t really recognize.

Trying to ignore it, you nearly default to the normal lie that comes with small talk, especially with strangers, but there's something so familiar about him-

You give yourself a minute to actually weigh his question, tasting different answers on your tongue. It teases you, the temporary daydream of just hitting the road, abandoning everything and everyone you know to start a new life elsewhere.

After a few moments- really, it could have been an Infinity or merely seconds- you have your answer.

"I'd be lying if the thought didn't appeal to me sometimes."

He hums, sounding somewhat detached, turning once more to study the treeline. There's a heaviness around him now, an aura that almost hurts to see.

"Something tells me it's been on your mind lately?"

He studies you for some time, and maybe it's the lighting or just the contacts, but you could swear his eyes are almost glowing. Finally he offers a small shrug, all that negativity seeming to disappear into thin air.

"Eh. Comes and goes. Let's just say my cousin's really pissing me off."

You huff a laugh at the statement, thinking of your own loved ones inside, and how tipsy they were already when you first slipped outside. "Family, am I right?"

He hisses slightly, apparently his own form of laughter, that smile once more teasing the left corner of his mouth.

Silence reclaims the pair of you for a few more moments, and as awkward as it could have been- He's good company. After spending so long having to mindlessly chatter about the weather and ambitions, it was nice to simply breathe.

Your companion- it’s still bothering you that you don’t know his name- seems as at ease as you are, content to lean against the table as if he owns the place.

The sunlight is almost completely gone now, the waxing moon taunting you from behind a few scattered clouds painted in amethyst. The stars are not so shy, several distinct constellations already twinkling above you.

With the coming night, there's a chill creeping closer, a crispness to the air that has you sighing in contentment.

He seems to mistake the sound, eyes flashing with concern as he turns back to you. "Cold?"

Your denial is barely even formed before his jacket is over your shoulders, his lingering warmth already starting to seep into your bones.Your mouth opens in a small protest- Seriously, how dare he just assume!- but seeing how instinctively he had done it, how it almost seemed his second-nature-

Rather than offer up any protests, you sigh out a small thank you, and soon slide your arms into the sleeves, marveling at how warm the damn thing is despite how thin it is.

There is another round of laughter inside, and someone decides to raise the volume of the speakers.

Some orchestral piece is playing, a haunting melody that you felt befit a Gothic novel, a spellbinding spectrum of emotions carrying past the still opened door.

You see your companion shift, straightening his posture as he turns his attention back to you. Curious, brow raising slightly, you glance over at him, wondering at his next move.

Shockingly, he's bowing, a right, proper bow, before standing upright once more, a soft smile just noticeable. "May I have this dance, my fellow outcast?"

Oh God-

"You are ridiculous," you're laughing out, even as you take his offered hand.

He's grinning again, a playful look that fits him far better than some of the ones he's had on before. "It's all part of my charm!"

You're rolling your eyes, still smiling despite yourself.

It's only when he's guiding your hands to a ballroom position that you feel the first flickers of panic. You had been expecting maybe some swaying or just kind of shuffling, not-

"Relax, would ya?"

You meet his eyes, immediately reassured by the soft expression there, eased from that inexplicable familiarity. He isn't going to pressure you, and somehow you know he will always have your back.

"Just follow my lead; I've got ya."

You believe him.

Despite not even knowing his name, what a majority of his face looks like, or even what accent that is-

You believe him, and you decide to trust him.

Letting go is a strange sensation, one you're not entirely sure you dislike. He seems to know you're a novice, goes at a tempo that he can easily guide you through. Despite never having danced like this before, a few moments in you feel as if a part of you has been reawakened, the next steps coming to you before he begins to move into them.

He seems almost proud of your progress, your dance becoming more a partnership with each passing moment.

The song had shifted a long while ago- now some creepy lofi piece with samplings from a children's cartoon- yet your pace remained the same.

"So..." He puts out into the air, a pensive prompt that has you smiling.

"So," you repeat curiously.

There's another weird expression, fading away before you can analyze it.

"What's your name?"

Maybe it's the thrill of anonymity, or maybe you're too caught up in the giddiness of your newly discovered talent. Instead of giving him a straight answer, you playfully offer: "Someone smarter than Cinderella's Prince Charming."

Pensive, you offer an extra thought. "I know the power of a name; who knows what you'd do with it."

The comment seems to amuse him, that achingly familiar smile returning as he guides you into a dip. He hovers there for a moment, slightly pensive. "You know, Prince Charming is a lot smarter than you give him credit for."

He's guiding you back up, his eyes glowing once you're upright again. "He could do more with his beloved's name than she could even begin to imagine."

That last line, a whisper meant just for the two of you, is digging at you, tugging at some memory buried deep, deep in your subconscious.

There's something there, a name starting to shape on your lips-

But then he's doing that half-shrug again, dismissing the exchange entirely. "No matter. Keep your secrets, princess."

The last word was spoken with such fondness that your heart actually skipped a beat.

He barely gives you a moment to process, pulling you into a different routine that soon has the rest of the world fading away again. You let yourself forget everything else for a while; you exist only in this moment, dancing on the grass with a stranger.

Except, he's not a stranger, is he?

God help you, you know this is the first time you've met him, know that you've never interacted with this man before in your life, but you know him.

With every minute you spend with him, you imagine all kinds of moments with him-

Laughter as he wipes chocolate cake off his cheek from an impromptu food fight, annoyance at his cousin's lecturing, the soft smile of pride as he listens to his brother's speech.

And dammit, he never even mentioned having a brother.

But the daydreams keep coming.

Holding his hand in some cobblestoned square, racing through the woods, collapsing into a freshly constructed snow fort, lazing in bed running your fingers through his hair while he reads aloud-

They're so vivid that you're starting to wonder if you lived an entire life with him already.

And God, doesn't that make you sound so ridiculous.

You've only just met this guy, literally know maybe five things about him, and yet you're already imagining a future with him.

Life isn't some fairietale, and despite the tiara you're wearing for the night, you are not a princess. Shit like this isn't real.

But the way he's looking at you, watching you with such vulnerability and longing-

He's pulling you closer, your eyes drifting shut reflexively.

You feel his breath teasing your neck, his hand pulling you closer to him.

You-

A familiar voice is calling your name.

You barely hear it over the sound of your racing heart beat, over his. Your eyes flash open in irritation, though not at him. Never at him.

"It's not midnight yet."

Given the circumstances, the weight of his hand on your back, how tantalizingly close he is, and the inexplicable gravity you've long since stopped denying, his growl actually elicits a laugh, pained as it is.

"Sadly even the most rebellious of us princesses still have curfews."

He groans in frustration, arms wrapping around you in a hug, his forehead dropping against your own. "Don't. I-" His eyes are meeting yours again, darkened by expanded irises and still nearly sparkling for how vibrant the red is.

"Run away with me."

It's a whisper, a plea. It echoes through your entire heart and soul, that aching a crescendo of longing and adoration.You would give anything to stay with him, would follow him in a heartbeat.

But you have a family, a job, responsibilities. You can't abandon them, even at the risk of never seeing him again.

"I'm sorry," you force out, the agony resounding from every last inch of your soul.

You never meant the words as much as you mean them now, your own heart breaking in your decision.

You step away from him, shedding his jacket and turning away.You know if you look at him, if you see his face, if you glance at his eyes once more time-

You manage five steps before he's choking out your name. You close your eyes at the pain in his voice, but it's not enough.

He's used your name, and the sound of it from his lips, the weight of it on your spirit, it's too much for you to resist.

You're turning again, once again struck by how devastatingly handsome he is right now, how much sway he already has over you.

Every one of his approaching steps, each more confident than the last, is increasing the tempo of your heartbeat, filling you to the brim with anticipation.

It's ridiculous, impossible.

Yet you can't lie to yourself. Not about this.

"Please."

He's barely an arm's distance away from you now, hair haloed and features shadowed from the nearby sconces. And those damned eyes-

"N-"

He's murmuring your name again, slowly, hypnotically, shaping it as if he's savoring the flavor, enjoying how it feels.

You really want to ignore the effect it has on you, but he's whispering it again, not giving you a moment's mercy.

"Come with me."

You're powerless to resist.

"Yes."

97 notes · View notes

monabela · 4 years

Text

this is here because I was listening to esc songs and Goodbye To Yesterday suddenly seemed like a great song to write a fic about. so here you go, a small, mostly aimless thing. the title... is from that other estonian song. no, not Play. it’s from Verona.

never said enough

pairings/characters: Belarus (Nadzeya)/Estonia (Eduard)

word count: 3268 summary: Nadzeya wakes up alone, and she doesn’t understand why. The only one with the answer to that question is the man who left her, and she’s determined to find it.

Something is off.

Nadzeya doesn’t open her eyes, trying to listen for what woke her. The room is quiet. Her whole house is quiet. She sighs, and outside, down on the narrow street, a car starts. It idles, just a few seconds, and then the sound echoes off the old buildings as the car leaves the street.

Without opening her eyes, Nadzeya flings her arm out across her bed, hitting the empty pillow next to her.

“Fucking coward,” she grits, letting the wave of anger she feels quickly overtake the welling of sadness. Anger is, in her experience, much easier to deal with. Her fingers clench in the empty pillow, arm quickly getting cold. How fucking early is it?

Finally, Nadzeya wrenches her eyes open to check the alarm clock on its shelf across the room, nestled between her collection of CDs. Six-fucking-fourteen, is he serious? Groaning, she turns over and tucks her arm back underneath the covers, pressing her face into the mattress, into the lingering, familiar smell of pine and fresh bread.

Although she dozes off and finds it’s half past six by the time she opens her eyes again, trying to go fully back to sleep seems like a futile exercise at this point, so she curses some more under her breath, just to make sure she stays angry instead of slipping even slightly toward despondent, and rolls out of bed. There is absolutely no reason to be up; it’s her day off work and there is nothing to be done around the house. Maybe, somewhere, she had planned on spending at least the morning… Not alone.

But she overestimated Eduard Mets, obviously.

There is no note anywhere in his ever-hurried handwriting that explains his abrupt departure from her bed and her house, no text or voice message left.

Nadzeya had expected more. Too much, evidently. Coward.

It’s a good thing she spent so much of her teens and early twenties being angry at just about everything—including herself, more often than not—because she finds it’s barely any effort to hold on to the ire now, slamming doors up and down her narrow house and stomping on the many stairs.

She knows he’s an evasive man, is the thing. Eduard has these things he refuses to talk about, and Nadzeya knows she’s stubborn, but he manages to talk around her every time she asks. It’s impressive, and it does—it did—intrigue her. That little bit of mystery.

Of course, it now turns out it’s just cowardice.

Without noticing, she has started dragging her feet. It’s still barely gone seven, but Nadzeya goes and puts on the heaviest boots she can find, digging them out from underneath some festival outfits from the past few years. They don’t match her T-shirt and jeans at all, but she needs to stomp some more.

Eduard liked these boots, one of the first times they met up. Said they made her look like some ancient warrior queen. Then, of course, they’d had sex in his awful little tent, and they haven’t really stopped since.

Kicking the wardrobe, Nadzeya focuses on her anger. She doesn’t understand what happened here, and she hates not understanding things.

Since she’s up now, she makes breakfast, deciding to go all out with it because she might as well, and also to spite Eduard if just in spirit. That man is religious about breakfast.

After managing to eat everything she makes, Nadzeya reads the news, which is one thing that always serves to make her feel worse. As expected, it works. Somewhat. It also serves to remind her that it’s more fun to be able to bitch about it to someone, even if just over text messages. She’ll be damned if she texts Eduard as if he didn’t run out on her at ass o’clock in the morning, though. He doesn’t deserve that.

She’s sure she didn’t deserve that.

There’s the sadness again, threatening to drown out the anger that is much preferable.

No one would accuse Nadzeya Alyakhnovich of being a melodramatic person, but that’s just because very few people actually know her well. When she was eleven, a girl in school laughed at her dress, and she still despises her with a vengeance, just because it’s a petty thing to do and that’s what makes it fun. She told Eduard this, once. He seemed impressed by her ability to hold a grudge at the time, because he isn’t the type—much too logical for that, and probably too much of a fucking coward—but he didn’t seem particularly surprised that she would. He has strange talents, and understanding her is one of them.

Remembering that makes this even more confusing, and it’s getting harder to stay angry. The sun is rising outside, slowly bringing color to the cold streets of the city, lifting the haze of night under which he slunk away, and Nadzeya just needs to understand.

Everything about Eduard is rational; he’s always thinking about everything, so what the hell was he thinking?

It’s almost eight now. Nadzeya has already had it with this day.

Getting out her phone, she opens her contacts. Scrolls to Eduard’s name. Although she opens their messages—she never realized, she thinks, how often they talk about the most mundane things, like the most recent conversation, which is about how hay fever is a bitch—she does not send anything new.

Instead, she yanks her bag from the table, throws her phone into it, and slams all the doors on the way out.

There is only room for one coward in this—this relationship, and it sure as hell will not be Nadzeya. She’d be dishonoring the name of Alyakhnovich if she were. So she’s going to find the man who is.

It’s still too cold of a spring morning to be outside without a coat on, let alone ride on a motorcycle, but Nadzeya just puts her helmet on and determinedly ignores the goosebumps crawling down her bare arms.

Eduard lives barely fifteen minutes away, just outside of the city’s main bustle, on the lower floors of terraced building that would be lovely if age hadn’t weathered it to a dull grey color. He’s constantly complaining about the lack of parking space, but Nadzeya just slides her bike between two cars and stomps her way to the front door of number 14A, where she rings the doorbell just once. She isn’t desperate, after all. Not sad. Just pissed off.

The door isn’t opened, and fine. If he wants to be like that, two can play that game.

Nadzeya rings the doorbell about ten times in quick succession, then slams on the door with a closed fist.

“Come out!” she shouts. “You coward!”

Still no movement in Eduard’s house, but somewhere else, a door opens, and then there’s a man’s voice from above her.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on down there?”

Nadzeya takes a step back to look at Eduard’s upstairs neighbor standing on his tiny balcony, the neighbor who must be the one Eduard says is always making noise at inconvenient hours but also keeps giving him baked goods, which apparently makes it okay. Nadzeya thinks that’s bribery, but then if anything could bribe Eduard, it would be baked goods.

“Oh, hey!” the neighbor is saying. “You’re Eduard’s girl, right?”

And, really, Nadzeya resents being called a girl—she’s well in her thirties—let alone someone’s girl, but she just shrugs now. The man grins.

“Sounds like he’s in trouble, huh? Can’t imagine Mets doin’ anything to deserve all that racket, so it must be pretty bad.”

“Where the fuck is he?” Nadzeya narrows her eyes up at the man, ignoring his obvious attempt to get some gossip out of her. He just keeps grinning, unperturbed, light hair flopping all over the place. He looks like someone who makes a lot of noise, for sure.

“Went off to work.” A vague gesture in the direction of the city center.

“It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I saw him leave!” The man shrugs. “He’s a workaholic, that guy. Or he’s avoidin’ ya. Wouldn’t blame him, no offense.”

Nadzeya quirks her eyebrows minutely, decides to take it as a compliment, turns, and walks back to her motorcycle.

“Wish him good luck from me!” the neighbor yells after her when she takes off. She will not.

It’s remarkable how much she knows about Eduard. Except it’s not, really, Nadzeya realizes. She knows she has no real skill with people, never has and never will, but it became easy to talk to Eduard. At first, maybe, they talked when they weren’t busy having sex, but if she’s honest with herself, it didn’t take long before it was the other way around.

Case in point; she knows where he works. They’ve had lunch together a few times, somewhere near the university when Eduard was between lectures and Nadzeya between shifts at the museum—she would be lying if she said she doesn’t enjoy the looks she gets when she manages to get away on the days she does demonstrations and is in full period costume. With fake bloodstains.

There are no lectures on Saturdays, though, not in Eduard’s department, and if he were doing research, she’d know.

She’d know.

She parks her motorcycle haphazardly between some bicycles, very nearly knocking one over. It’s hard to resist the urge to kick it, but she’d probably damage it with these boots and the fucking bike didn’t do anything wrong.

Even early on a Saturday morning, the hall of the university is fairly busy with students. Nadzeya weaves her way through them to the information desk, slamming her palm down on it and startling the woman sitting there.

“Good mor—” she starts.

“I’m looking for Eduard Mets,” Nadzeya says. “Where is he?”

For a long moment, the woman just blinks up at her owlishly. Nadzeya bites the inside of her cheek.

“He works here.”

“Yes, of course. He should be up in…” She trails off as she gestures upwards. “Actually, there he is.”

Turning, Nadzeya follows her gaze up to the mezzanine level over the canteen area of the hall. Eduard has his back turned to the desk and is talking to a young man who must be one of his students. He’s tucked his hands underneath his own upper arms in a familiar gesture and is wearing the same turquoise sweater he was yesterday, despite obviously having been at home.

“Thanks,” Nadzeya tells the woman behind the desk, and goes to find some stairs, hoping Eduard hasn’t run off by the time she gets up there.

He has not. When she throws the door of the stairwell open and starts towards him, he looks up at the heavy footfalls of her boots, and freezes, eyes wide. The student looks between them curiously. He appears quite young to be at university.

“Nadzeya,” Eduard starts as she nears, and he gestures at the boy. “I’m—”

“Thanks, Mr Mets, bye!” the student says, and scuttles off to the other end of the mezzanine level, barely pretending not to pay attention to them anymore. He might even be pulling out his phone to report to his friends. Eduard looks after him for a moment, raising his hands forlornly.

“Pretty smart kid,” Nadzeya comments. Eduard turns back to her, expression caught between apprehensive and plain sheepish. It’s not fear, and she doesn’t know if she’s glad about that or not. It would have been easier if he was afraid, maybe. His sea-green eyes are bright as ever, even if the way they are squinted slightly behind his glasses indicates that he hasn’t had enough sleep. It was one o’clock by the time they’d gone to bed.

“What are you doing here, Nadzeya?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she snaps.

“I work here—”

“Not on fucking Saturdays, Eduard. I’m not an idiot.” She takes a step closer, tilting her head back to look up at him. He swallows visibly, eyes flitting everywhere but her face. Her next words are a hiss. “What the fuck happened?”

“I just thought…” He adjusts his glasses. “Can we do this somewhere more private, maybe?”

“Absolutely not.” She jabs a finger against his chest. Her nail polish is chipped, and she has not put on makeup, which is very rare, but she’s too upset to give a damn. “All I need is an explanation. You’re a teacher, it can’t be that hard.”

“Look, it’s… I…” He chews on his lip nervously. When he reaches for his glasses, his long fingers brush against her cold arm. He pitches his voice low. “I didn’t think I should stay.”

Nadzeya frowns up at him, jerking her chin to demand more explanation.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

She blinks, trying to process that.

“Why not?”

“We didn’t—” He leans closer to her after glancing around nervously. “We didn’t have sex. Last night.”

“And?” They don’t always have sex when they meet, now, no matter the time of day. In fact, more often than not, they just have lunch, or go to a museum, or that concert a few weeks back. For all intents and purposes, they have been dating, despite never having named it as such.

“Nadzeya, I’ve never stayed the night.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve stayed late, but never… Like that. I’ve always left, you know, afterwards.”

She wonders at how that brain of his made this leap of logic, because she’s a smart woman and she has no idea what the hell he means right now. Afterwards? What about the nights they’ve just spent watching ever stranger documentaries or just drinking beer and talking, when he only left because he said he had work in the morning?

“So because we didn’t fuck—” she narrows her eyes when he winces and looks around again— “you decide it’s okay to leave without any kind of message? How the fuck does that sound logical?”

“I should have written something, but I wanted to spare myself the awkwardness, Nadzeya!” he hisses. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to stay!”

“You thought I—” She tries to take a deep breath, and find to her surprise and horror that it’s difficult, breath shuddering. “You can’t think for me, Eduard Mets.”

“I thought…”

“You’re always thinking! I know!” There are probably people watching, and this might be getting live-tweeted. She doesn’t care. “But you don’t think for me. You don’t get to decide what I want.”

“I know.” He touches her arm. His fingers are warm.

“You don't, obviously! If you knew what I wanted, we wouldn’t fucking be here, we’d be having breakfast in my kitchen! Because you’d know I don’t give a fuck whether we have sex, Eduard.”

The anger is difficult to hold on to, and the sadness that it has been keeping at bay is surging up. She finds herself grasping Eduard’s sweater, gritting her teeth against the empty feeling in her chest, the unwelcome taste of tears at the back of her throat. It’s easier to be angry, because at least if she’s just angry, she doesn’t have to face up to the fact that this thing—that Eduard—means more to her than she had anticipated. More than it seems to mean to Eduard.

“I don’t know how you can still think I just care about getting laid.” It’s said through gritted teeth, and Eduard bites his lip in return, slowly reaching for her face, swiping a thumb across her cheekbone. Nadzeya looks up at him, meeting the familiar sea-green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. She swallows, averting her gaze. Eduard’s chest rises and falls steadily under her fingers, and she watches it for a moment. He waits, silent. He knows she talks when she wants to, that she sometimes needs to put the words in order first. It’s another one of those things that make this situation so baffling.

“I don’t think it’s been that kind of casual for a long time, at least for me,” she says at the hollow of his throat. “Maybe I wanted it to be.”

“Nadzeya—”

She looks up now, not knowing what she’ll say until she says it, and then it seems strange she didn’t realize.

“I’m in love with you,” she tells him, and the series of expressions that flits across his face is unreadable. “So don’t try to decide for me what I—”

He kisses her, pushing both hands into her hair in that way he does. There may be a gasp somewhere on the mezzanine level.

It’s a hard kiss, one that speaks of emotion, and Nadzeya doesn’t know what to do. Eduard’s heart is thundering under her palm as she spreads her hand against his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes when he pulls away, a curious light in his eyes. “Nadzeya, I’m a coward. I’m such… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you are,” she whispers, still out of her depth. This entire situation is… Not one she’d predict herself getting into, but maybe she herself underestimates her penchant for melodrama as well.

“Let’s try again.” Eduard presses his lips together and searches her gaze. “I feel the same, Nadzeya. I feel the same. I was just scared, and I’m sorry.”

All the air leaves her lungs in a great rush, and Nadzeya closes her eyes for a long moment, willing the tears back definitively. This whole thing is melodramatic enough as is. She wants to call Eduard an idiot, and maybe herself as well, a bit, because she recognizes somewhere that he isn’t the only one at fault here, but Eduard is the one who walked out, so she feels justified in not bringing that up right now. They’ll get around to that.

“Okay,” she says instead, curling her fingers against his lean chest. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

He smiles, a little tentatively, and she shakes her head, fond despite herself. She feels… Light. It’s a curious feeling, a pretty rare one, but she likes it. Still, she attempts to look stern when she lifts her gaze back to Eduard’s.

“Don’t ever—” she pokes his chest— “try to think for me again, Eduard Mets. You have no right.”

He catches her wrist.

“I won’t.” There’s an earnest expression on his face that would honestly disgust Nadzeya in any other situation, but she’ll take it this time.

“Good.” She tugs her own arm back until he leans forward and kisses her again. It’s soft, this time, no intent beyond it. Eduard tastes like peppermint.

When someone nearby clears their throat, he pulls back, making a face. Color is quickly rising in his pale cheeks, and Nadzeya grins.

“You’re gonna be the talk of the school, Mr Mets.”

“Oh, god. Can we leave? I really have nothing to do here anyway, and I think I owe you breakfast.”

“Fine.” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve done breakfast, though. You owe me lunch.”

“It’s nine!”

“We’ll make do.”

As they leave, Eduard gets his coat from a locker and drapes it over her shoulders, pine and fresh bread surrounding her. She pulls it around herself, willing to revel in it for now. They have things to work out, but they’ll work them out later.

At the doors, she hears the young student from before shout, “Have a nice day, Mr Mets!”

Eduard groans, and Nadzeya can’t help but grin, turning to wave up at the boy.

“Don’t encourage him,” Eduard says.

She smiles and tugs him outside. It’s a nice morning.

#Hetalia #estbela #aph belarus #aph estonia #u: human #fin #w: 5000 #does anyone remember when i wrote that parody of verona #where instead of lost in verona it was lost in ikea #because I can't find it anywhere and sometimes i think i dreamed it

14 notes · View notes

vaguely-concerned · 5 years

Text

I am having a lot of Feelings about the contrast between McCree’s Blackwatch look and what he’s chosen to wear now that he is his own man, so to speak

- Ah yes, here we see what I like to think of as the Obligatory Blackwatch Look. Blacks and greys with details in red and cool metals. It’s meant to be dark and menacing (though for those of us not in-universe, just looking in, the sheer Edge of it arguably ends up being borderline hilarious at times). It’s sort of like someone asked Batman to design a cowboy outfit and he was like ‘say no more’. A literal Black Hat situation. There’s an insinuation that violence could be close at hand at all times.

- It’s an outfit in conversation and connection with other outfits -- it’s not q u i t e a uniform, because I imagine getting the Blackwatch crew to agree on one would be like herding cats, but let’s all give Reyes a big hand for getting them all to have one unified Look.

- The metal details are in cold, clean tones... except, interestingly, the (brass?) Deadlock belt buckle that seems to be the one thing he’s kept from his past life. (Even the gun appears to be a different one, while the iconic Peacekeeper is seen both in current day McCree and in the pictures of him as a kid, like in Reunion, if I’m not mistaken?) Also there’s his tattoo but uh I guess he didn’t have much say in keeping that until the choice was ultimately made for him in a... spectacular way (ouch). At the very least he hasn’t made an effort to cover it up.

- Warm, earthy colours, metal details included, and he strides like a bold red statement through the world haha. Where the Blackwatch outfit speaks of dirty business conducted in the shadows, this is clearly meant to be seen. Intriguingly he has once again chosen to keep a symbol of a former allegiance -- the Blackwatch emblem clearly visible on his hat. (...that is what that is, right? a stylized version of it?) Deadlock seems to be gone, though, unless we can construe the skull imagery on the metal arm into something like that? If so it’s still a definite downgrade from the obviousness of the tattoo. More natural-looking materials, pops of blue for contrast! Exciting untrodden territory! Accessorize with the ammo belt for that touch of danger and also to distract from how stupidly wonderfully long your legs are while you’re loping around the maps!

Also there’s the belt (god protect him I love him so), which we see he already had at 17 in that photo from Ana’s hero introduction video but maybe wore in his downtime/personal life? (On top of everything there’s the F-bomb just barely getting past the censors lol let me reiterate that I love him)

- I dread to think there’s another man out there in the Overwatch world who has independently hit on this specific ~*ensemble*~. (Meaning: this is very much an individual look, it’s something he has chosen for himself entirely)

- It’s not as actively intimidating. He obviously means for it to look badass and it does -- it’s cool in a kooky brazen way, undeniably put together to evoke the archetypal Man With No Name character, a sort of joyful reveling in that fictional figure -- but the whole outfit is more of a cheerful barefaced brag or dare than a threat. It’s far more openly heroic too; you can imagine going to this guy for help, weirdo though he may be, because he looks both capable and somewhat approachable. (Not necessarily on a personal level, though -- one effect this outfit has is that it’s almost a costume, he presents more as a deliberately designed character than as a real person, which I suspect is how he prefers it haha) You get the charmingly roguish good guy vibe from it all.

- He also is draping the serape to low key cover up the prosthetic arm, as opposed to how he left the tattoo out in the open. I wonder what exactly this is about? (One hopes it’s not in an attempt to remain inconspicuous, considering... all the rest of him) It’s worth noting that it’s becoming more and more apparent that losing his arm is quite a recent thing -- likely within the last five years or so -- and from some of his interactions, like the one he has with Genji, it seems like he’s not completely used to/comfortable with it yet. In Reunion, when Echo asks him, he clearly does not want to talk about it, in his genially dissembling way (presumably because Blizzard wants me to die still wondering what the hell happened there)

Anyway he is finally free to fully live his futuristic Man With No Name cosplay life and I for one support him in all his endeavors

#overwatch #jesse mccree #meta #let me also specify that I find his beard in the blackwatch one to be a travesty and the one he has these days a balm and a blessing #I hope this makes some kind of sense and is at least passingly grammatically coherent; I feel a little strange and delirious lol #I helped my sister move today and there was just... a lot happening

121 notes · View notes

athingofvikings · 5 years

Text

It takes a certain--unfortunately widespread--brand of self-absorbed, self-congratulatory arrogance to leave a review so vile that every person that has looked at it has gone some variety of Ewwwww! and then, when defending it, managed to dig a deeper hole.

And doing that digging by presenting themselves as objective and free from bias while using the r-slur, as well as casually implying that the author, who has taken great pains to be fair and not bash, is now and will be biased. Quote, “I think you should be really careful with how you write Jews, especially after admitting to be one. While they had it pretty bad at the time I think you are making them too good“

This, among some other antisemitic comments I’ve gotten, just a few days after the latest synagogue shooting... yeah, I’m just tired.

Meanwhile, I wanted to publicly thank @kalessinsdaughter and @primedoverlord for responding to the guy, because I didn’t have the spoons to do so.

The asshole’s full review is under the cut, along with their replies:

[Asshole Username Redacted] chapter 84 . Apr 30

Well, I think I should finally drop a review here. I'm going to be honest, there are "fanfics" and then there are Fanfics and this one is of the latter. You know what I mean? One of those stories you want to read and which have you counting the days for the next update? Well, that's what you wrote. While sometimes I yearn for the setting to be more like "canon" in general I love what you did to this world, to tie together real life with HTTYD. I love the characters and the developments and even if some stuff is a little hard to believe in general I think the narrative works pretty well. Overall this is one of the few fics I would recommend to other people, especially for its historical fidelity. Now, I'm mostly happy with this story but there is some stuff that I don't quite like that much (not even saying it is objectively bad, just from personal preference). I think "progressive Berk" is nice but somewhere along the line you went a little too far. Not in the sense that it is distracting or bad, just that strains suspension of disbelief a little. Though you made efforts to show not all of Berk is that good, so it evens out mostly. Now, what I find actually somewhat annoying and can't decide if it is due to character bias or something supported by the narrative is in relation to the religion. I think your general depiction of Christianity is good enough, especially for the latest chapters as you show that the Church has a lot of problems but isn't cackling EVIL! Little things like the monk who helped the escaped serf or Henry the Black are good to show that Magnus and his people aren't the exception to the rule. I do think you are being overly generous with the Norse religion and culture. Moat European religions weren't very understanding in general and all had traditions or costumes we would found deplorable. This has the problem of making Hiccup come across as very hypocritical, especially when "burn rape and pillage" is considered a quick way to "heaven" for his religion. But of course this could be on purpose. I think you should be really careful with how you write Jews, especially after admitting to be one. While they had it pretty bad at the time I think you are making them too good and Fishlegs inner monologue doesn't help. Basically they are a universally good people who did no wrong ever and who don't have bad people period. They aren't any worse or better than anyone else but the story doesn't reflect this very well. I think Fishlegs should get rid of his pink tinted glasses sooner than later, even if he still cares deeply about his ancestor's people. Well, except for that I once again repeat that your story is superb and excitedly await for more chapters.

@primedoverlord chapter 84 . Apr 30

[Redacted] You say "be careful writing Jewish characters" and yet you tear into him for being honest? I honestly think you should re-read A Thing of Vikings, and pay really close attention to the tiny details you otherwise overlooked [redacted]. I also strongly recommend watching your wording, because the way you commented here makes you sound antisemitic and pretentious.

[Redacted] Apr 30

Hmmm, while I don't think it was that ambiguous I guess that as the one who wrote it my intent will always be clearer to me than to those reading it. So for the sake of avoiding q misunderstanding I can clarify what I was trying to say. No, I'm not saying something retarded as "dur dur jews are evulz" as my fellow commenter seems to imply I was doing. I was instead pointing out that you have shown that independent of their religion, nationality or ethnicity people are good or bad because of who they are and how they were raised. That your "identity" doesn't define who you are but only gives you a conext for your actions. This is important because as of yet you haven't shown this with only the Jewish people (mostly because we only have a few named characters and they happened to be good people) but that this added to Fishlegs basically fanboying over his heritage (I mean seriously, just look at the latest chapter) and that you declared yourself as part of this group males you come across as biased. Personally I don't think you are but as you may know appearances/ reality. So I was mostly saying this so you can avoid this kind of accusation and because it didn't completely fit with what we have seem of everyone else.

@kalessinsdaughter May 1

Just offering you some constructive criticism, [Redacted]: The wording you chose, "... be really careful with how you write Jews, especially after /admitting to be one/." (my emphasis) doesn't seem at all ambiguous. Rather, it comes across as offensive in that it suggests that being Jewish is something one "admits to", as if it were something bad. If you want to avoid appearing anti-semitic, I suggest that you consider rephrasing your statement using less negatively charged words. Also, you might want to revise your initial comment and the follow up reply for consistency, since they appear in part contradictory: If you do realise that there hasn't been time yet to develop the few Jewish characters for complexity in the story, then why did you criticise the—perfectly natural—lack of complexity in the first place? As it is, that inconsistency makes you come across as insincere. Another thing you might want to consider is expanding your analysis of Fishlegs' rosy tinted view of his ancestors' people, to give it some depth. I feel you are omitting two important issues: one is the almost mythical status of said ancestor in the tribe, and the other is the very short time he has had to really get to know any of the Jews he has befriended. That omission makes you seem overly eager to find fault with this particular story arc. I think you should take better care not to appear as one of those who hold non-Christian authors to higher standards than Christian authors, and whose response to minorities depicted from their own perspective is "How dare you not show this abused minority as being just as flawed as the majority?" Now, one thing I find quite refreshing is that you don't romanticise Norse religion the way so many people do. However, you seem to be disregarding the fact that the author has repeatedly pointed out that Berk in this story is an oddity, and in no way representative of Norse religion and culture in general. That makes your objection moot. Again, it's an omission that could easily be seen as a deliberate attempt to find fault, which is why I would advise you to consider revising that part of your criticism as well. On the whole, your objections on how different religions are depicted run the risk of sounding like you're counting the sprinkles on the cake frosting for "fairness", as it were, or like you're making a sort of generalised /tu quoque/ fallacy. You might want to avoid that kind of thing, if you really want to appear unbiased. On a final note, surrounding extensive, and very specific criticism with a few lines of general and nonspecific praise (some of which in itself contains disguised criticism) is a tactic I think you should avoid. While it can work sometimes, it more often signals an insincerity of purpose that is counterproductive. I hope you take my advice as it is intended: not to infer that you are insincere or biased, but rather to help you avoid such accusations.

7 notes · View notes

yoolee · 6 years

Text

If lee wrote otome #9 | Super! (II)

Summary:

Responsible, chill automechanic wakes up with superpowers that suspiciously resemble city’s top hero’s

Gets swept up into a secret corporation’s superhero support system, despite best efforts to live normal life

Love interests:

The perennial hostage (ex-journalist turned exasperated microbrewer in attempt to stave off kidnappings)

The (ex-villain) butler (ex-supervillain, judgy and snarky)

The villain’s kid (total softie with a trigger temper)

The legacy (costume designer child of superheroes, no powers)

The golden hero (rescued her once, bit of an overly serious dork)

Supporting cast:

Mentor (badass lady hero whose city-saving sacrifice cost her powers, but not her skills and knowledge)

Mother (kinda flaky curtainmaker) & Stepmother (musical theatre nerd and owner of automechanic shop) & much younger little sibs (they want a dog)

Roomie (also arch-nemesis, but they do their dishes and pay rent on time)

Various villains & heroes

Context

Superpowers come in one of two ways - an epic, disastrous tragedy (explosions in abandoned factories, radioactive spills, bites from super-creatures, aliens) or genetics. When the heroine wakes up one day with superpowers, she really just wants to ignore them and go back to work, but she’s whisked off by the staff of a secret company designed to support superheroes and given a choice - learn how to control her powers, and pay back the company for her training, supplies, costumes, and support by working to save the world, dropping out and becoming a villain, or going home, risking exposure and damage and having to go into the super-powered protection program, leaving family and friends behind. Begrudgingly, she opts for the first option - but she’s not exactly putting a whole lot of effort into it. Or she wasn’t planning to, except the nature of her superpowers makes it impossible to avoid notice, and suddenly the city’s most well-known superhero takes a personal interest in raising her to follow in his footsteps.

Heroine

Automechanic who really just wants to build stuff, not save the world (especially if it means classwork) but hey, thanks for the spandex tights. Had to be the ‘adult’ for most of her life, until stepmother came into the picture in high school, but some habits are hard to break. Responsible and organized, but they’re learned traits - underneath is a bit of a slapdash wild child just waiting to explore. Got dragged into theatre a lot by her mother, and has a mixed relationship with theatrics as a result. Super chill, not particularly curious about stuff that isn’t in her exact wheelhouse of interests (work, family, video games). Definitely has a hero complex, it just has to be right in front of her face - ie, she won’t go prowl the streets looking for crimes to foil, but if she sees someone being profiled at a supermarket she’ll speak up. Not lazy, exactly, but also not super motivated. More interested in the villain’s motorcycle than their dramatic speech. Not one to agonize over the ethics of superhero-ing. They hit you, you hit back. You save the citizens, you hang the person who held them hostage from a flagpole, you go home and play video games.

Love interests

The Butler: Head of staff for the superhero billionaire who took heroine under their wing. A (barely) reformed supervillain (because the butler always does it aaahahaha) but either had powers taken away, just never uses them, or they are very very subtle, Heroine can’t tell. Didn’t lose the tendency towards snarky, jerkish banter. Makes no secret of the fact they think heroine can't hack it in the big leagues. Simultaneously takes care of every need (laundered supersuits, fresh juice with breakfast, chamomile before bed) and pokes at every sore spot with snark and side commentary. Very, very loyal to the hero they work for. Cocky, confident, but also very good at blending in and disappearing, which comes in handy for espionage sorts of things. Very lax stance on morality and ethics. Very strong stance on presentation, tidiness, and appropriate breakfast options (no cold pizza on his watch).

The (Designated) Hostage: Very first person heroine rescues - albeit somewhat inadvertently. Unfortunately, this leads to them being a pretty regular target for any villains passing through, which massively annoys them at first but after they work through the various stages of grief they end up on the acceptance side. Periodically manages to rescue themselves. Possibly becomes a villain in one of the routes out of spite. Initially works as a journalist, but quits in the hopes of dissuading villains and opens their own microbrewery instead--if they’re going to have to sit around waiting for the heroine to show up, they can at least have a beer while they wait, right? Has a fairly remarkable pain tolerance and high fear threshold at this point.

The Legacy: Child of two exceptional superheroes who was expected to do tremendous things - except they never manifested powers. Their little sibling did, and resentful of all the expectations set on Legacy, went off and became a supervillain so basically there is Serious Family Drama. For their part, legacy is honestly massively relieved not to have powers. Quiet, dreamy, bit of a flower-child but very sharp when they pay attention and focus. Because they know all about superheroes (and wanted to stay in the loop on little sib) they work for the superhero support system, designing costumes (their motto is ‘flattering, functional, bulletproof’). Has been around the company forever so they know everyone and everything. Fluctuates between practical (due to such longterm exposure to the way things are) and philosophical (which they’ve had to be to accept parents choosing heroics over family time).

The Villain’s Kid: Family Issues, Episode 2. As far as anyone knows, their villainous parent killed their heroic parent and is still serving consecutive life sentences for the aftermath (there’s more to it, but no one ever gets the villain’s side). Subsequently, there’s a lot of mistrust of VK, who is actually the sweetest, softest marshmallow around - though admittedly when you do manage to get their ire up, it gets nasty fast. Quietly confident in their identity, no matter how absent parents were (not totally their fault) or how much people expect them to be something else. Uses what could be incredibly destructive powers in a surprisingly effective, non-violent way most of the time. Likes to keep things simple and not overthink it (because then they start plotting and that’s, you know, frowned on).

The (other) Superhero: One of the heroes whose powers manifested via tragic explosion in their early teens. Ran around trying to save the world in a sweatshirt and Halloween mask until the superhero support system scooped them up and got them a real costume and some martial arts training. Genuinely a good person, trying to do their best to save everyone and everything, despite it kind of burning them out just from constant stream of demands and the fact they are incapable of treating people’s lives being at risk as routine. Same age as heroine (maybe a year younger) but has been doing this a lot longer - actually saved her once or twice back in the day. Civilian identity is a regular at the repair shop - heroine always assumed they were just a lousy driver, but it’s more that villains tend to destroy their ride as collateral damage. Kind of quiet, kind of dorky. Has one of the best track records for saving people, but doesn’t really know how to relax or wind down. Grizzled vet of the biz, though they’d be genuinely startled to be identified as such.

Supporting Cast

Roommate/Arch-nemesis: Always pays the rent on time, never leaves dishes in the sink, but also dons a mask and tries to take over the city at night at least twice a month. Still not the worst roomie heroine’s ever had. Plus, they have a dog so they can’t be that bad. Will literally leave in the middle of a dramatic confrontation to go let the dog out, too. Dramatic, but not psychotic. Unless you threaten the dog.

Mentor: Superhero “officially” retired from active duty on account of losing her superpowers during an act that saved millions of lives but that doesn’t stop her from pulling on the mask and using influence, technology, and sheer knowledge of tactics to even the playing field when her mentees are in over their heads--though she is also a big believer in trials by fire, and they’re all usually strong enough to survive a hospital stay or two, so they don’t count on her. SERIOUSLY pragmatic. Excellent strategist and longterm thinker - can match any supervillain in xanatos gambit capability except she keeps her cards close to her chest and her mouth shut so no one knows (least of all her mentee) until the chips fall. Believer in preparing for the worst at all times - which means putting her mentee through the worst because better it’s with her than with a supervillain who won’t take her to the medbay after. Doesn’t pull punches.

Mother: Very loving, very sweet, very flaky. Tries very hard to step up to the plate but just isn’t great at it - she does best when someone else can provide structure and guidance and she can just fill in the details. Super forgetful. Makes custom curtains, but also does tailoring, and used to make all of heroine’s halloween costumes. Still makes costumes for the local community theatre. Really wanted to be an actress, but can never remember lines, so nowadays is happy in the audience. Likes to create things, but doesn’t do well with deadlines. Determinedly defends small happinesses in a world where she is called frivolous for doing so - she maybe is a little, but it’s more that she recognizes happiness is rare and special and so feels it should never be begrudged. Loves her kids, but isn’t the greatest at remembering details like doctor’s appointments or shoe sizes or school supplies.

Stepmother: Owner of the autorepair shop, frequent stage manager, director, and sometimes performer at the local community theatre - it’s a toss up whether she loves the stage or cars more. In general, she just likes seeing things come together. Likes lists and more importantly, checking things off of them. Heroine’s mother helps keep her spontaneous and gets her to explore new things. Came into heroine’s life when she was in high school, and they generally get along pretty well. There are occasionally awkward moments, but they both love Heroine’s mother and want her to be happy and that goes a long way.

Little Brother 1 (~9/10 ish): Long-suffering little brainiac. Sarcastic little snot, but only because he already worries about everything, which makes heroine super sad because he shouldn’t have to. Reader, and likes to show off new words he finds in books (doesn’t always pronounce them properly, but the family is so stoked to have a smart kid they are all for it anyway). Secretly really likes musicals but acts like he hates them because his parents will drag him to every audition on the planet otherwise and he likes watching them not participating. Likes to be on the fringes of things, offering commentary, but doesn’t like the spotlight or being in the center. Really wants a dog.

Little Brother 2: (~6/7ish) Hyper-curious chatterbox until he wears himself out and just wants to cuddle. ALSO wants a dog. Likes putting on family plays (though insists every time if they had a dog it could play XYZ role). Wants to be a professional soccer playing paleontologist most days. Doesn’t like being alone.

Little Sister (~4/5ish): UH TBD it’s been awhile since I had a niece/nephew in this range I forget what they are like >>;; slightly demanding? Also wants a dog because bros want a dog?

Check out more

#if lee wrote otome #superheros #superheroes

9 notes · View notes

ifleewroteotome · 6 years

Text

#3 - Super!

Summary:

Responsible, chill automechanic wakes up with superpowers that suspiciously resemble city’s top hero’s - and said hero has gone MIA. She gets swept up into a secret corporation’s superhero support system, despite best efforts to live normal life.

Love Interests:

The perennial hostage (ex-journalist turned exasperated microbrewer in attempt to stave off kidnappings)

The (ex-villain) butler (ex-supervillain, judgy and snarky)

The villain’s kid (total softie with a trigger temper)

The legacy (costume designer child of superheroes, no powers)

The golden hero (rescued her once, bit of an overly serious dork)

Supporting cast:

Mentor (badass lady hero whose city-saving sacrifice cost her powers, but not her skills and knowledge)

Mother (kinda flaky curtainmaker) & Stepmother (musical theatre nerd and owner of automechanic shop) & much younger little sibs (they want a dog)

Roomie (also arch-nemesis, but they do their dishes and pay rent on time)

Various villains & heroes

Context

Heroine

Love interests

Supporting Cast

Little Sister (~4/5ish): UH TBD it’s been awhile since I had a niece/nephew in this range I forget what they are like >>;; slightly demanding? Also wants a dog because bros want a dog?

#otome #otome idea #otome plot #plot #overview #summary #Super #3

1 note · View note

astormyjet · 6 years

Photo

July 19th 2017 - January 7th 2018. Summer, Autumn and the start of 2018.

Ho boy. I have been useless at keeping this updated. Things got super busy with RA, working with the kids and just generally getting out and doing more, rather than being a shut in. I lie. I’ve been studying Japanese, doing more outside of school socially and sportingly AND playing more video games. But either way, I haven’t been chronicling my time here as much as I used to.

Ok, so summer. I went to Tokyo for a holiday some time in July/early August. I met up with Maya, one of the cool kids from up north that had actually contacted me about JET stuff before they got here the year after I did, I also met one of my sempai, who actually taught as an ALT alongside my Uni Japanese Uni friend who came to visit me in January last year. So that was a hilarious twist of fate. Tokyo was A plus as per usual, but I don’t see myself living there in the future. Too expensive, too busy. Too many people.

After getting back to Matsuyama, the new ALTs came. They’re all fab. Some of us oldies and a bunch of the newbies play DnD together now, so that’s taking some of my weekends.

When they first got here, Miriam (the other RA) and myself organised a beach welcome party, we made a kick ass sand castle inspired by Matsuyama castle. We then destroyed it with a big rock. We also beat the crap out of a watermellon on the beach while blindfolded in an attempt to recreate an “authentic beach experience”. Basically in their first couple of weeks, RA duties saw Miriam and I making sure they were settling in all good and running/presenting at Ehime Orientation alongside the other RAs and the PAs. That was both fun, challenging and terrifying.

Junior High sports day was in September. I jumped in on the white team, or rather the white teams 3rd years basically yanked me into their tent and told me I was their cheerleader, they even got me up doing their chant and dance. I love them all so much. They’re such genki, kind and hard working kids. It’s going to be hard for the last few months of teaching at my base school after they all graduate in March. I’ll have to change schools in August most likely as that is what happens here in Matsuyama to fourth year JETs. It’s probably time for a change, but with the new changes rolling out at Elementary school, I’m seriously concerned about the future of the JET Programme in Matsuyama...side note...our BOE still has no idea how they’re shuffling the new classes at ES 3rd and 4th grade is going to work...when everywhere else on the island had that sorted out last year.....argh.

Halloween itself was pretty rough for me and a couple of my students. Along the route I bike to school, there is a few bridges with pretty high drops. From the hospital near my house to one of said bridges an ambulance and a police car kept pace (in early morning traffic) with me. By the time we got there, there were already a bunch of police cars and a group of the local community standing on the bridge pretty somberly. I made the mistake of looking down into the river and there was a guy who’d jumped.

My students were standing nearby and one of the community members suggested that the four of us walk to school with the kids, so we did. It was pretty bleak, the kids weren’t really sure how to process it, neither was I to be honest, but I’ve been in a similar situation a couple of times with friends at Uni so I think that kind of helped me talk through some of what was happening with them. We got to school, informed the principal of what had happened and then the day went on as per usual.

Suicide here is a pretty big issue, luckily for the students and community it turns out the guy was from elsewhere in Matsuyama so it’s impact wasn’t as strongly felt in the community. The community has made efforts to reach out and support the family of the victim and the kids who saw the aftermath are being looked after as well. Thank god.

I am a little bit worried about how they’re going to react to the whole Logan Paul thing that’s happened recently, and I am incredibly worried about who is going to be at school and who isn’t come the new term, as that is when youth suicide rises, but there’s very little one can do about stuff like that except keep an eye out for and support those who might be dealing with mental health issues.

On a lighter note, Matsuyama Autumn Festival in October was fun as usual. I made my way down to my school block area and joined in with the community there. The shrines were beautiful, I saw a dragon/lion dance for the first time in real life. I got to hang out with a bunch of my students and their families and generally just put myself out into the community down there which has opened some pretty cool doors for me.

In October, Miriam and I were also in charge of sorting out the yearly Halloween Orphanage visit for the Chuyo region. It was stressful, but rewarding. The kids at the home are all getting so big! I really feel for the staff who take care of them, there’s so many. This year they actually provided costumes for the kids to wear, and boy did that go down a treat. We had a good time. The Christmas visit went along in a similar fashion. Stressful, difficult to co-ordinate, but we all survived.

Skills Development Conference happened at the start of December, it was as per usual, not fantastic. Basically the workshops were more of the same and the speaker this year was bloody useless. Japan is so frustrating in respect to educational change, despite how many JTEs and ALTs ask and suggest changes or improvements, it’s basically screaming into the void.

After the last day of school, I ended up going to Osaka for Christmas break. I left on the 26th December and came back on the 30th. In that time I spent my first day up in Kyoto, where I hiked Mt. Inari in the snow...it was pretty cool. Figuratively and literally. The shrine, Fushimi-Inari Shirine and the tori gates are a lot more beautiful than photos can capture. It’s eerie and quiet, but it’s also a peaceful place, if you go earlier on in the day, like before 9am as due to it being a tourist hot-spot, it gets busy fast. In Osaka I went to Nipponbashi and then a bunch of the surrounding places. I didn’t do as much shopping as I thought I would, but that meant I had a bunch more money to spend at USJ.

USJ was unreal. I loved the Harry Potter world portion and was impressed by the Spiderman ride as well as a couple of the other smaller attractions. I avoided the Minion theme park like the plague, but probably would go if I go again and it’s still there. I also went to Osaka castle, but the museum portion was closed due to it being New-year break fro Japan, so next time. I also went to a cat cafe called Mocha which was really clean, relaxing and the cats were super well cared for. I saw the staff grooming the cats and cleaning the room while I was there, so they’re on to it. I also went to an owl cafe. I got pooped on. Apparently it’s lucky. The owls again were well looked after and the staff were on top of the animals welfare. Basically I had a blast in Osaka and have some ideas of what I want to do with my partner when they come over in May. Yay!

On the 31st I climbed up the Shiroyama-park hill to Matsuyama castle and watched the last sunset of the year. It was pretty lackluster, but it was a nice way to end the year. I spent the rest of the evening curled up in my room with the heat on and watching Kohaku uta gassen. 2017 wasn’t a bad year for me, it was just an average year. I think now that I am a little more established in Japan, but coming towards the end of my time on JET (only 2 more years! CRIKEY), I’m starting to think about, and panic a little, the future. Like I have no idea what to do after this, but I know I want to stay abroad, but weather that is in Japan, England or Canada, I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to go back into study, or if I want to stick to doing odd jobs with my somewhat useless BA in English, Linguistics and TESOL Minor. I enjoy teaching, and I enjoy working with kids and young adults, learning from them and encouraging them to reach their goals, but I don’t know if I can find a good, stable job with my current qualifications.

On New Years day I went to the big mall and lined up for lucky bags, I got the Pokemon Center one. I was stoaked, as initially I’d been in the wrong line, but 10 minutes before the doors opened I saw the right one, jumped in and managed to get one of the last bags!!! I also went and bought new running shoes and a Nintendo 3DS for an early birthday present.

On my actual birthday, I went to work, hung out with the Volleyball kids, the table tennis kids and made paper cranes for the kids graduation in March. I then came home, ordered Pizza and spent the evening on my DS and PC gaming. It was nice.

I haven’t made my New Years resolutions yet, but I think I’m going to do something similar to what I did last year and write a list of 25 things to do before I am 26. I got about 20 out of 25 things done last year, so I’ll carry over the five I didn’t manage. I have my first shot at my Karate Blackbelt on Wednesday, I don’t think I’ll pass this time around (dammit, why are test fees so expensive), but I think that getting it by the end of the year is on my list. Along with JLPT N3.

I signed my re-contracting paper before I went away, so I am definitely here until August 2019. I’m equal parts excited for the changes in the Elementary school English Education, and dreading how poorly our BOE has been planning it out. But we’ll just have to see. Until next time, this has been Kai, the 25 year old, sleep deprived and slightly Jaded 3rd year ALT.

#tw: sucide mention #life on JET #jet program #jet programme #ALT life #Japan

13 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 7 years

Photo

K19: Hangar 18

If the History Channel were to make a movie, Hangar 18 would be it.

We open in space, on a shot of the same 1/100 scale space shuttle model kit I built as a kid, except theirs has a better paint job. You can tell it's sci-fi because the credits are in a public domain approximation of the 80s NASA font. During the mission, a satellite collides with a UFO – the satellite is destroyed, the astronaut who was working on it is apparently decapitated, and the UFO itself makes an emergency landing in Arizona.

From here, two things happen. The surviving astronauts are somewhat upset when the ensuing coverup blames them for the death of their colleague, so they set out to find some proof of what really happened while the government tries to keep them in the dark. Meanwhile, scientists attempt to study the UFO, and learn that Erich Von Däniken was right about absolutely everything and aliens invented MP3s long ago. Eventually, the people in charge of the conspiracy decide that this is going to ruin everybody's careers if it gets out, and crash an RC plane into the hangar where the saucer is being kept.

Robert Vaughn is in this. His ears are still distractingly small.

Before I say anything else, permit me a small Space Nerd moment. Nobody involved in this movie had any idea how things are done in space. You can't just throw on a space suit as if it's a light fall jacket. It takes at least fifteen minutes to get into the multiple layers of padding and cooling systems and then you gotta double-check all your seams because you really, really, really don't want anything to leak in fucking space. Spacewalking astronauts also have to pre-breathe, which gets extra nitrogen out of their blood so they won't get the bends. The shuttle's three main engines were only used on ascent and the shuttle itself had a minimum crew of four. The lack of detail on their shuttle sets and spacesuit costumes is utterly laughable, as is the tiny mission control room that looks to have maybe twelve people in it.

Some of this may be blamed on the fact that Hangar 18 was released in 1980, while the real-life space shuttle didn't begin test flights until 1981. Thing is, the production actually thanks NASA in the end credits, which suggests that they spent some time there and had plenty of opportunities to ask questions like, “what would this look like?” and “how long would it take to do that?” So either they didn't bother to ask, didn't bother to use what they'd learned, or just didn't care – and as a result the beginning of their movie looks like something out of Mighty Jack.

All right, with that out of the way, what is this movie supposed to be? Well, as I said above, it's the History Channel. Hangar 18 is basically a distillation of the entire modern UFO mythology (yep, here I go again), complete with Men in Black, abductions, Area 51, ancient astronauts, and crash retrievals – all in a ninety-six minute nutshell! The only thing it's missing is a cattle mutilation. The problem is that none of these things really make any sense when you think about them with your tinfoil hat off, and the movie doesn't try very hard to make sense of them.

First, there's the whole 'government cover up' angle. In the movie, the bigwigs don't want anybody finding out about the UFO at first because they fear it will affect the outcome of an impending election. In the interests of keeping things quiet they move the craft to a secure facility and pay off the witness who saw it land so he won't talk to anybody – sure, that works. But there are also the two astronauts who watched this object kill their colleague. You would assume that they would be interviewed and then told about the need to stay mum for a while... but this never happens. In fact, for reasons that are absolutely not remotely 'reasonable', the conspiracy just ignores the astronauts entirely until they start making pests of themselves.

When a news story breaks blaming the two astronauts for the death of their colleage, the higher-ups don't even comment on it. When the astronauts themselves start asking questions, they are shut out, followed, and harrassed, until one of them and at least four of the federal agents are dead. Why was any of that necessary? One guy did suggest, right at the beginning, that it would be easier to just write them a cheque and ask them to take a vacation while this all got sorted out, but apparently trying to assassinate two celebrities in public was much more acceptable.

At the end, the conspiracy realizes that the saucer itself has become a liability. If anyone finds out about the stupid decisions they've already made, their careers will be over, so it's time to do one more mind-numbingly idiotic thing and blow the whole thing up. Oh yes, clearly, destroying the scientific find of the millennium and killing everybody who knows about it is the obvious solution. That will definitely make all their problems go away.

Naturally it does not, but we never really see the consequences of this. A voiceover tells us, as the credits roll, that the people who were inside the ship survived the blast and the fire. The secret is now out, but we never get a hint of the fallout. At the end of Captain America: the Winter Soldier we saw the evil senator getting arrested and a glimpse of Black Widow testifying, and that's enough to assure us that everything turned out okay. In Hangar 18 we're supposed to take it on faith that the conspiracy guys will be punished, instead of, say, vanishing into 'retirement' on a tropical island somewhere. We're not supposed to be curious about the effect these revelations will have on society, or what will happen when the aliens actually return. Any of these things would be a more interesting movie than watching two guys in bell-bottoms getting chased across the desert by Men in Black.

The UFO itself had quite a bit more effort put into it than anything else in the movie – maybe this is why they had no money left and were forced to settle for that plastic model kit of the space shuttle. In space it is visible only as an arc of orange lights, actually looking rather like the Phoenix Lights of 1997, and is really kind of eerie. Then we get a closer look at it in the hangar, and find it is nothing at all like the standard-issue flying saucer we were expecting. It looks more like a piece of industrial equipment you'd find at an oil refinery, with a strong sense of weight and scarcely a hint of aerodynamics as we know them. The first time it appeared, I honestly wasn't sure what I was looking at – was that supposed to be the UFO? I'm not entirely sure if I like this treatment of it, but it definitely surprised me.

The inside of the craft looks more like we might expect a UFO to look, with silver walls and blinky lights and dead dudes with shaved heads. Much is made of the fact that symbols on board the spaceship are identical to those known from assorted ancient cultures, but the ones we see are all completely made up because that means they didn't have to do any research. The space armadillo in the glass tube is somewhat interesting. The blonde woman who wakes up screaming could have been interesting, but the movie just puts her in an ambulance and forgets about her.

Then there's the aliens. This is the bit where the movie goes full Von Däniken, with a character proclaiming that human evolution has been shaped by these beings from the start. That's why we and they have identical internal organs, right down to the useless bits like the appendix and the nictitating membrane.

Human anatomy is derived from the same primate ancestor as that of the other great apes, which in turn is derived from the last common ancestor of all mammals, which is derived from the last common ancestor of all tetrapods, which is derived from the last common ancestor of all vertebrates, and so on, and so on, and so on. There is nothing in our bodies that other animals don't have in some form, because we all began with the same source material. You can follow this right down to the molecular level: every living thing on Earth uses the same chemistry, because we all have a common origin.

If we're positing that a creature from another planet has the same internal organs as us, it doesn't matter how much they're supposed to have messed with our genes, it's still ridiculous. A true alien would have had to start from scratch. There's no reason why they would even use the same genetic code as us (for example, with three A's in a row coding for lysine, aka the one the Jurassic Park dinosaurs can't make), let alone have an appendix. For these aliens to be responsible for our anatomy looking just like theirs, they would have had to guide the origins of life on Earth from its formation, and kept an eye on it since to make sure it didn't wander off on an evolutionary tangent before inventing bilateral symmetry or something.

Don't even get me started on the idea that aliens could interbreed with us. It'd be like trying to create something that was half-human, half-watermelon, only even more so.

Other than the strange-looking UFO, Hangar 18 doesn't offer us anything particularly memorable. The characters aren't very interesting, the aliens are utterly forgettable movie aliens, and the effects are unconvincing at best. The story avoids the more interesting ideas it brings up and sticks to the obvious. It's mediocre and disappointing, and I can't imagine I'll ever want to watch it again.

#mst3k #reviews #hangar 18 #80s

13 notes · View notes