#and that anything other than that must be built with that massively devoted friendship in mind

[findafight]

i do want catws opinions!! so much!!! mcu cap am was one of my major interests for quite some time, so i am Very interested! tbh don't much care for the rest of the mcu all that much, like ive seen quite a few of the movies but absolutely far from all of them. and like tbh i cared the most about catfa & catws and then steve and his relationship with people, idk i just love his character so much, I've done some sort of analysis inside my head of his character, but it's been A While so i don't remember any of it in words, just vibes lol. also idk how i feel about cacw, it just sorta didn't feel like His story, it felt more like avengers 2.5 or smth.

also related to steve & peggy, i feel like the thing that makes their story stay so strong Is the missed opportunity, the longing for something that can never be. it's this thing that was on the brink of possibility, and where the potential was so big and tangible, and they both felt it, and then all of a sudden the possibility is gone, it's lost, forever. idk like i think steve going back in time to dance with peggy would be sweet, But, it just doesn't move me as much unless peggy also knows that the moment is a promise fullfilled and a dream that can never be, it's one more aching moment together and then it's goodbye. idk like i thought the scene in endgame when they danced was absolutely beautiful, but to me it is a dream, and to me it feels kinda disrespectful to all of them(steve peggy & bucky) to have steve go backwards, that's not him, maybe when he first woke up after the ice, if presented with the possibility he wouldn't be able to resist, but otherwise his character is LITERALLY about getting back up again!! and then also peggy had a life?? with someone else!! and she was happy with her life! he literally knows this, he talked to her when she was old! why would he disregard that?? and then why would he live the rest of his life knowing bucky is the winter soldier and then NOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT????????? idk it's just like, when SO MUCH of steves story is so closely intertwined with bucky it just doesn't make any sense to leave him??

also while i am a romantic stucky believer, truly more than that i am a soulmates stucky believer! so the stobin tws au really really hit me in the feels yk.

Okay so. What makes CAWS so good, and one of the best mcu films, is that it uses superheroes not as a genre, but as a vehicle for a genre. Winter Soldier is a spy thriller. Arguably TFA also does this by being a war film? But WS embraces it. It's so clearly a spy thriller with a superhero setting! More superhero movies should have co-genre I think. It can be watched as a stand alone, with good solid introductions to characters, to the point that it's bascially the only mcu movie I've watched with my mother that she hasn't asked "who's that?" and why they were doing stuff. Basically every other one, besides the first in their series require prior knowledge of characters for most of the impact of them.

WS doesn't? We see Steve and Natasha have a friendly relationship, that steve's a supersoldier and also takes risks (no parachute), that they're some kind of soldiers, that there's some secret operations going on. We get this! Then we meet Sam and we see that Steve is also incredibly lonely, we see him at the Howling Commandos exhibit, and sure maybe it's hamfisted by focusing on bucky or whatever but that sets it up! we now who steve is, why he's lonely, and some of his values.

and even without TFA, as soon as the mask comes off, we know this is someone steve knows. When he insists on saving Bucky, he uses the line "even when I had nothing, I had Bucky" having watched tfa before just makes it hit harder.

I'm going to be real with you I've watched civil war once and was like "this is kinda stupid? very stupid" and then stopped really paying attention to most marvel movies.

oh yes so true about Steve and Peggy. It's compelling because the could have beens. If that had happened, but then steve went back to present, I would not be mad. It wouldn't be weirdly stealing someone else's life? Especially combined with the Agent Carter Tv series, Peggy has closure for Steve's death. Though it's still an ache, and she mourns and misses him, she's still living her life. She isn't caught up on him as a romantic interests. She has multiple (they should have given us more cartinelli tbh we were robbed in s2) in the series! She had a good, long, and happy life. Steve just dropping in sometime in the 40s(?) with the expectation of pursuing a romantic relationship with her would likely be a shock, and unwanted. They both would have changed from where they left off, both having mourned each other and their relationship. It wouldn't have worked! But to have him drop in. tell her "hey. I can't stay for long. I'm sorry it has to be this way. But I owe you a dance, and it's been killing me breaking a promise to my best girl." That!!! would have!! been! so sweet! A final goodbye for both of them. The final closure and fulfilled promise from oh so long ago.

Steve had spent at least ten years out of the ice before endgame. I just. How could they slide him back to what he would have done directly after being thawed? Like I don't think even lost sadman beginning of ws steve would have stayed back. He's changed and he can't go back to what things were. he keeps getting up, even when he shouldn't! That's what's endearing about Steve, his stubbornness, and his willingness to put himself on the line to protect people. That's why he was the first and only (official) American supersoldier. He carries on, even when it's almost unbearable for him to do so.

It's so... It felt cheap and insulting to him and Peggy and Bucky. Because you're correct!! It means Steve went back to nineteen fourty-whatever and chose not to do anything about the 80+ years of horrible things that happened in the world. Especially chose not to do anything when he knew exactly where Bucky, who he had previously jumped behind enemy lines with nothing but a wing a prayer and a shield to save, who he had defied governments for, who he's nearly died for multiple times, was??? how in the WORLD did the same screenwriters and directors who made one of the best marvel movies that highlighted and used their friendship in such a compelling way also write/direct that for them? how? valuing romance over any other kind of relationship I guess?

yeah I think what's compelling about stucky is that there is so much love there, that they've known each other for their whole lives, and will continue to be (or should be) a vast part of each other's worlds no matter what that relationship looks like. They're soulmates, whatever that looks like for them. and if it's romance then that romance is built upon the deep devoted friendship they have. That's everything about them. Everything is built on a sickly and scrappy kid who couldn't leave well enough alone and got pushed into the dirt by bullies he stood up to over, and over, and over again, and some charming schmuck who looked at him and thought "I'm gonna help him keep get back up". to the point where they broke over half a century of brain washing because of it.

#findaanswers #anon do you remember the glory days of like. 2012-2014 avengers fandom. esp 2014 post winter soldier #my god. it was simpler times. didn't know what we had until we lost it. #mcu #caws #captain america #stucky #cap #tbh it's kinda similar to how I see blr? like the romance is interesting and heartbreaking because they are friends first #and that anything other than that must be built with that massively devoted friendship in mind #but obviously yeah stobin fits ws because they're unhinged and decidedly abnormal about each other. they're soulmates #Robin WOULD go behind enemy lines for steve. steve would break decades of brainwashing and torture by seeing robin's face #anonasaurus #finda's rambles #meta #steggy

[razieltwelve]

The Kids Are Fighting Again (FGO x Final Rose)

“Augh!” 

Fujimaru tried and failed to hold back a chuckle as Diana clutched at her head.

“Someone help!” Diana cried. “This mean girl is picking on me!”

The ‘mean girl’ in question was actually Diana’s sister. The group had stumbled across her on their way to confront the current ruler of Gaul. The pink-haired girl had taken one look at Diana, chopped her over the head, and then declared she would be joining them because someone had to keep her little sister out of trouble.

“Oh, be quiet.” Averia glared. Despite being a twelve-year-old, her glare was truly menacing. It made him wonder if she actually possessed Mystic Eyes of some kind. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you end up getting summoned on another planet because, apparently, their history is going berserk and humanity could be wiped out. Can’t you at least try to stay out of trouble?”

“Technically,” Diana pointed out. “You left me alone for more than a decade since, you know, you died first.” Diana rubbed her head. “And it’s not like I could just stand by and do nothing.” She struck a pose, chest puffed out, and hands on her hips. Since she was a little kid, it looked absolutely ridiculous. “Besides, Fujimaru here is a true believe in the power of friendship. There was no way I could leave him to fend for himself.”

“...” Averia covered her face with one hand. Unlike Diana, who was dressed entirely in absurdly bright orange, she was dressed in a jeans, a jacket, and a baseball cap. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed she was just so regular person who’d gotten caught up in the Singularity. “Even death can’t stop you from getting into trouble. I guess I’ve got not choice.” She nodded firmly. “I’ll be coming along. Don’t worry, though, I’m no slouch. I can pull my own weight.”

“Excuse me,” Mash asked. “But what sort of Servant would you happen to be?”

“I’m a Caster,” Averia explained. “Basically, I summon things to fight for me. I also have access to powerful buffing and de-buffing abilities, so if we come up against someone strong, just keep them away from me, and I’ll stop them from doing anything scary.”

“That sounds handy.” Fujimaru smiled. “Welcome to the group, I guess. We’re supposed to go defeat the ruler of Gaul, so we’d be glad to have the help.”

“It looks like you’ll need it.” Averia pointed. “Because your allies just seem to be charging toward the enemy without anything even close to a plan.”

X    X     X

Mash was curious about what sort of abilities Averia would have. Whenever anyone asked about her family, the first person that Diana always mentioned was her Super Awesome Sister Who She Had Never Defeated. The verbal capitalisation of the words only added to the idea that Diana’s sister was some kind of invincible killing machine capable of obliterating entire worlds.

Now, some of that was undoubtedly exaggeration. Mash considered Diana a good friend, but the little girl was definitely prone to exaggerating. Then again, she had also witnessed Diana drop kick a dragon into the sunset during the Orleans Singularity using her Devastatingly Deadly Dropkick of Doom Version 5.4™, so she couldn’t dismiss Diana’s words entirely. 

“We should probably help them,” Mash murmured as Boudica and Spartacus led the charge into the enemy ranks. 

“You should take Fujimaru and some of the others and sneak into the enemy camp while their army is distracted.” Averia sighed. “I’ll help out over here.” She motioned, and a chess piece appeared in her hand. “The battlefield is something I know very well.”

The chess piece was a rook, and Averia crushed it in her hands. It vanished, and a massive, spectral tower appeared around her. All along its length, openings appeared, and Mash could make out the ends of cannons poking out.

“It’ll be fine,” Averia said. “Just leave this part to me.”

There was a thunderous roar, and the cannons fired, unleashing a blazing salvo that carved a swathe through the enemy ranks. A second salvo followed soon after, blowing craters into the ground and sending bodies flying every which way.

“It’s not very subtle,” Averia admitted. “But it gets the job done.” She tilted her head to one side. “And now they’re headed this way, just as expected.” A knight piece appeared in her hand. She crushed it, and spectral knights appeared, charging off to meet the incoming soldiers. “Go on, this will end quicker if you and the others can deal with the enemy commander.” 

X    X     X

“Behold!” Diana cried. “The Power of the People’s Elbow!”

Fujimaru couldn’t help but grin at the look of exasperation on Averia’s face. They had somehow managed to survive Altera’s attack, but they needed to defeat her before she could use it again. Thankfully, a bit of cooperation had allowed them to distract Altera long enough for her to be caught in one of Averia’s Noble Phantasms.

“I can’t believe she’s actually going to use that technique...” Averia sighed. “Well, she’ll probably survive using it since her opponent can’t resist it right now, but still...”

"Your Noble Phantasm is truly splendid,” Nero said, interrupting anything else Averia was going to say. She smiled sunnily and ruffled the girl’s hair, prompting a vicious glare from the Caster. However, Averia was powerless to do anything except glare since she needed to devote her attention to maintaining her Noble Phantasm’s effect. “To think a Noble Phantasm existed that could not only cancel the target’s skills and abilities but also seal away their Noble Phantasms as well!”

“Could you please stop ruffling my hair?” Averia asked.

“Umu... you look even more adorable when you glare,” Nero replied, continuing her hair ruffling. “And look, your sister is about to deliver the finishing blow!”

Restrained by the others, Altera was unable to dodge or defend herself as Diana bounded forward, climbed up onto Boudica’s shoulders and then flung herself into the air toward the other Servant.

“Taste the power of friendship, villain!” Diana screamed as she descended toward her target elbow first. “This is the elbow that shattered the world and smashed the seas, this is the elbow that brings all evildoers to justice! It is the elbow of...”

“She must be using some kind of Noble Phantasm to do that,” Fujimaru murmured. “Because she should have hit Altera by now.”

“It’s built into the technique,” Averia explained. “She can actually ramp up its power without using more energy by ranting more about how awesome it is before it connects.”

“This is the People’s Elbow, the Elbow of Justice... the Exceedingly Excellent Elbow of Existence Erasure Version 7.9™!” Diana roared as her elbow finally - finally - connected with Altera. A blinding flash of light followed, and when it cleared, there was nothing left of Altera. Slowly, Diana lowered her elbow and struck a victory pose. “Once again, the elbow goes undefeated...” She stared off into the distance. “And once again, the power of friendship triumphs.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

As strange as it might seem, Averia and Diana actually work extremely well together. In particular, Averia has a Noble Phantasm called Time Out that stops its target from using skills, abilities, and Noble Phantasms. It is massively expensive to use, and she can't do anything else while using it. However, with Diana around to elbow/drop kick/gut punch whoever she is targeting, that’s not a problem.

If you’re wondering why Diana drop kicked the dragon in the previous singularity, it’s because it tried to eat her. Incidentally, whenever Averia is around, Diana insists on getting a piggyback because she is once again smaller than Averia.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

#fate grand order #fgo #final rose #fanfiction #averia yun farron #diana yun farron

[jonathanraychapman]

The Great Wall Review (3.7/5.0)

I went into this film (as a rental) via word of mouth and with no expectations other than a cheesy popcorn movie.  Through social media, I had heard it was a mediocre film and that there was even white-washing of characters.  I'm glad both of those were wrong and/or exaggerated.  This is certainly no Gods of Egypt.  

To the first point: while it's not masterpiece by any means, it's not really that mediocre (it's even a film I might watch again).  The source material (the plot of magnetic beasts trying to escape their home and conquer the earth) might be something from the SyFy channel, but the dialog is solid and the character interactions is built-up fairly well.  The presentation and performances of the actors exceed the script they had to work with.  And that's actually quite remarkable.

To the second point, the white/caucasian actors were playing caucasian characters and the asian (Chinese) characters were played by asians.  That's simple and I don't get what the complaint was here.  It would have been very strange for a foreigner showing up from Spain or Portugal during the exploration age to be anything else but caucasian.  The only thing I can think of is that some SJWs watched the trailer and started trashing the film.

Matt Damon (the center of the casting controversy apparently) plays a heroic character (William) that has lived a hard life as a mecernary, but learns what it means to serve a greater purpose over putting food in his mouth and gold in his pocket.  Pedro Pascal plays his brother in arms, Tovar (and in many ways brother in life).  The two are the remaining survivors on a trek to China to bring back the secret of black powder as a weapon.  They are captured and are being held in the massive wall (its existence is supposed to be a secret - manned by the Nameless Order - groups of men and women that devote their lives to the defense) until beasts (Tei Tao) attack and they must fight for survival.  The two men have dramatic tension when Damon's character decides to stay and save the wall from the invading beasts.  Willem Dafoe (hamming up the performance as always - and delightfully so) plays a villainous European (Ballard) from a previous trek that tries to talk the two into fighting their way out with the secret powder.

There's a love interest (ok strong friendship) of sorts when Damon and Tian Jing (playing Commander Lin Mae) connect and share their backstory and philosophy.  But there's no romance scenes and it's done very respectfully with the commander's position.  This movie centers around battles at the wall and the campaign to defeat the beasts (which are evolving and growing more intelligent).  I found this equality and respect between the two to be quite refreshing for Hollywood.  Commander Lin Mae is certainly not a damsel here and it's actually Strategist Wang instead of William that comes up with the plans that both her and William carry out.  Other characters make up the background cast, but each has their own distinct personalities (though par for the course of such a movie they are somewhat forgettable outside of their plot purpose).

I like the Eastern philosophy shown in the film.  The battle units work together - with everyone playing a part.  While William plays the lone hero, he is a Westerner.  The Nameless Order functions as units of people.  The attacks are coordinated.  This isn't like the lone warrior battling dragons that we're used to.  And that makes the film remarkable (to me).  The film also is shot fairly well and the beasts don't look horrible (as one would expect from CGI with so many of them).  In fact, the beasts sort of also carry that "hive" mentality present in the Eastern culture (more literally since they literally take all instructions from their queen).  William (Damon) does show value from his Western mind (coming up with improvisations and carrying them out), but - even then - the success of the missions is shown to be the result of everyone working together.

#the great wall #movie review

[atomic-r0x]

Lola’s first Challenge

It must have been well past nine o’clock in the morning when the front doors of The Ritz-Carlton hotel in Los Angeles slid open, her silhouette making its way towards the elevators effortlessly. Save for the slightly smudged eyeliner and her foundation which had lost some of its full coverage over the night, she looked remarkably beautiful and prepped up, ready to take on the day. And the glow – my God, there was something about her body and the way she carried it around the lobby, the way she raised her finger to press the button before stepping inside the elevator, the way she leaned both hands against the elevator’s rail in a V position, leaning closer to the mirror to examine her makeup – this aura of invincible sensuality and empowerment didn’t fail to stun, to stop people in their tracks. To make the middle-aged man going to the fourth floor gulp when the doors opened and she popped up an eyebrow, like she doubted he would even be able to take her.

She walked out of the elevator and ran a hand through her hair, still soft but needing a shower, something to wash away the sweat and the fingerprints of frantic hands tangled in her locks. She stepped towards room 520 as if the carpets were her runway, hips swaying from side to side until she stopped and placed one of her hands on the cold hard wood of the door, while the other hovered the access card across the sensor, proceeding to press the knob gently. He was still spread out on the king-sized bed, swallowed by the comforter and the generous number of pillows. His chest raising and lowering with every breath he took, the tattoo drawn above his heart almost becoming three-dimensional.

Shoes off, step out of the tight faux leather skirt, unbutton the shirt she’d stolen from him, a trail of clothes marking her way from the entrance door (which bore a do not disturb red sign she’d smirked at before stepping in) to the bathroom. A hot shower, the act of taking off any remains from the night before, a sacred ritual she took all the time in the world with. The plush towel loosely wrapped around her frame, like a formality she was half-heartedly accepting.

“Who was it this time?” his voice was low and sleepy, husky and muffled by a yawn that followed shortly after his last word came out of his mouth. Boris rubbed his eyes with his nail polished fingers, though his eyes refused to open just yet. Even so, he could feel her presence in the room, could easily point at her standing body in front of the full-length mirror, could tell she was rubbing some moisturizing cream into her makeup free skin.

“I believe his name was John… Johnathan, Johnny?” she replied simply, almost matter-of-factly, unperturbed from her skincare routine. What did it matter, anyway, who it was? She could hardly remember anything more than his tight grip towards his car, a deep blue Lexus NX Hybrid SUV, the nude leather tapestry, the eagerness which fueled his movements, the ease with which he followed her commands. “What?” she spoke as her hands lowered from her face, her eyes fixed on his distant reflection in the mirror.

“Was it… any good?” Boris first hesitated, but managed to ask anyway, propping himself up on his right elbow as he looked over at her, his lazy eyes taking in the sight of her bare back and the little skin left unexposed, trapped inside the towel.

Lola sighed and returned to massaging the cream into her skin, her eyes returning to the close details of her complexion. “Comes quicker than a kid. ‘Least he was obedient” she informed drily, like they were talking about the weather forecast, or exchanging thoughts about a movie that had failed to impress her. “Awfully boring, though. And married.” She finished applying her skincare, easily unwrapping her glowing skin from the not wet towel, heading for the closet room. 

Boris sighed and closed his eyes briefly, before they opened again, too tempted not to follow her with his longing orbs. “You know, I’m trying not to be jealous now.”

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got absolutely no reason to be jealous.” Lola replied, absentmindedly almost, as she picked out some lingerie, and sprayed some heat protection through her hair. 

“Don’t I? You think it’s fun knowing my girl was gone all night, screwing the brains out of a man I’ve never even met?” Boris spoke, this time propping up enough for him to rest seated, back against the dashboard of the massive bed. 

“Oh, get over yourself, Boris. It’s just a random guy I’ll never see again, and besides you were awfully tired last night” the girl replied with an eye roll, plugging in the blow dryer as she sat down at the mirror table in the closet room, brushing her long dark chocolate locks.

Boris huffed and Lola could feel he was rolling his eyes in return, his hand violently falling against one of the pillows in frustration. “Sometimes I wonder how is it possible for you to have always been like this. It goes beyond me” he spoke in a stubborn voice, his words like bullets aimed at her, but too bad she was immune. “Has anyone ever been good enough for you? Good enough that you wouldn’t sneak out at night and bang the first prey?” Boris was now standing in the doorway, his slender frame sporting nothing but his black Calvin Klein boxers.

Lola put her hairbrush down and stared at the mirror before her seated self, teeth clenched together tightly while her mind debated whether it was fit for him to know or not. Oh, you’ve no idea.

++++++++

She was sixteen that summer, and on her first holiday without her parents. The Lafevres had miraculously convinced her parents their precious daughter was going to spend the hottest months of the year in the safety of their remote castle in Normandy, an estate inherited by Duke Lafevre from his great-grandmother, a remarkable woman of aristocratic origins who’d married Archduke Lafevre when she was very, pressed by her family. “They are going to enjoy themselves a lot, Yarol. The property is thirty minutes away from the closest neighbur, it’s literal heaven out there!” the duke would insist, accompanied by Lola’s wide eyes peering up at her father, her body curled up in his lap as she waited for his final decision.

The castle had six bedrooms and two living rooms, a dining place and four large bathrooms, with a generous kitchen at the basement. The gardener, Lola learnt, was also responsible for the cooking and cleaning, occasionally helped by his wife, a midwife working at the closest hospital. There were six of them, and no other adults apart from the staff – Lola, Dominic, Ingrid and three other girls, daughters of some friends of the Lafevres. It might have been just her endless fascination with him, but Lola found it impossible not to mention how every single soul at the castle – gardener and wife included – simply gravitated around him, charmed by his ease and charisma, playing the generous host only to keep his guests entertained.

It was bright Saturday – the sky was a shade so light of blue, it almost seemed white, the blinding sunlight soaking everything around the castle. Every single door was left ajar, every window wide open, the cool air guarded by the thick stone walls freshened by the hot breeze that made the curtains seem like they were inhaling and exhaling. Ingrid left a note on the decades-old mirror in the main living room, ‘we’re out swimming’ written in bright red lipstick.

Lola overslept that day, and woke up the sound of a smirk she knew so well she could distinguish it in a crowded room, filled with people talking at the same time. She opened her eyes slowly, a small smile already plastered across her lips, and saw him – he in his personal tailor trousers, his patent shoes, his white shirt he always wore with the first three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up right under his elbow. His sand-like hair, messed up by his habit of running a hand through it, his sharp jawline, the naughtiness in the curve of his mouth.

God, was she mad about him. Mad about his perfume – strong leather and black pepper –, mad about the way he picked his words and how his voice was always hoarse. Mad about his hands resting on the small of her back or behind her neck, or how they cupped the side of her face when he pulled her in for a kiss. It is safe to say she adored him, a devotion partly motivated by an unexpected respect she had never thought her first love would impose. Maybe it was his blue blood, or maybe just the three-year difference that made Lola feel like this was a big deal.

They’d known each other ever since their baby showers, really. There rarely was a family photo that did not include both Lola and Dominic, although they were linked by everything except blood. Their childhoods were almost identical, their dynamic exceeding the usual boundaries of common friendship. So much that only two months before the trip to Normandy, they became an official piece. Or so she thought.

It was on that very Saturday, in the most beautiful castle ever built on French land, that Lola lost her virginity. She’d been longing for it ever since, at the age of fifteen, she resolved there was much more in her heart for Dominic than the innocent affection you carry for a close friend. Nights before they departed to Normandy she kept shifting in her bed, touching herself in places she ached to be touched by him. Muffled moans and heartachingly desperate movements of her fingers filled the long hours of supposed sleep before she finally decided she was going to go mad if nothing happened in Normandy.

But it did happen – the unexpected, overwhelming amazement that ran though her body from head to toe as his slender body hovered on top of hers, his rawness dazzling her, his careful moves shortly followed by changes of speed or intensity. Her eyes so wide she thought they might fall out of the hollows in her skull destined for them, her mouth stuck in a permanent O shape, her body paralyzed with a pleasure she had never even imagined was possible.

At the end, he rolled over, gave her a small smirk, pinching her cheek the way an aunt might do, and got fully dressed in less than five minutes. But Lola, oh God, she was left unable to move, still stunned by the intensity of the moment she’d been longing for so long, her body – so young and fresh, only sixteen years old – spread out across the bed in shameless nakedness, chest unwilling to settle for regular breath.

It happened again that very night. Then the following morning after lunch, when Ingrid and the girls were out in town, stocking up on alcohol they secretly downed in the attic, after the gardener and his wife retreated to their home, a few yards away from the castle. Then the following three nights. Every time would bring an element of surprise, something to always remind her that she could never have as much knowledge as he did. Every time, she’d gasp in new ways, reach higher pitches than before, and inevitably watch him roll over, kiss her maybe, and then get dressed. He was out the door in less than five minutes. She’d never complain.

The game carried on until the Christmas that followed their holiday in Normandy. Dominic and Lola would sneak around, play hide and seek, and then she’d beg for a new revelation. The weeks she couldn’t be with him seemed never-ending and cruel, and she couldn’t get the job done herself. Lola was helplessly, tragically in love with Dominic, and for the longest time, the feeling seemed reciprocated.

The too-good-to-be-true love story started going downhill little after the Solange family returned from their holidays in Cape Town, flying back to Paris for New Year’s Eve, but Lola was too caught-up in the marvelous bedroom rituals Dominic imposed to notice the teeth marks, the bruises, the way his eyes followed when either of the family friends who’d been with them in Normandy passed by.

It took another couple months for Lola to notice he was hardly in the mood anymore. They scarcely even kissed anymore, his dismissive sighs and constant checking of his phone a sign too bold for her to play dumb anymore. There was a massive elephant in the room, and Lola gradually grew tired of putting up a show for him, every time wondering what on earth was it that aroused him back then, and she could no longer summon. Dominic once got up from where he was seated while she was playing with herself for him, storming out of the house without any explanation.

He did have the decency to tell her he thought breaking up was the best thing to do, but it was long after Lola had figured out what was going on. Nonetheless, after they officially called it quits, Lola still couldn’t fully convince herself it was over. For nights on end she’d dream about him, about rolling beneath his sheets, about sneaking out to see him. About their time in Normandy and how the first time felt. Lola was reeling, the type of pain that numbs your feelings and the functions of your body to the point where even getting out of bed to brush your teeth seems slightly unnecessary and far too complicated.

Not long after their breakup, Dominic announced – so formally it would have amused her, had she not been this devastated by the breakup – that he was off to travel the world and eventually settle for Britain, where he was to attend university. After days of persuasion, the Solange clan finally convinced Lola to get out of the house and attend the garden party thrown by the Lafevres to celebrate Dominic’s departure. It was then she noticed the not-just-friendly hands placed on the smalls of several backs, the kisses pressed against porcelain ears, the naughty winks passed around like the newspaper. The feeling of betrayal setting her teeth on edge, the bitter aftertaste of her greatest love making her swear she would never allow herself to feel so strongly about anyone.

+++++++

It made little sense explaining all this to Boris, introducing him to a history from which Lola still couldn’t flee. And why should she justify herself, anyway? Why should she feel tied down to a single man? She’s been there before and had seen the way things end, no great act of love could convince her a lover would never change his mind about her. So why get hurt, when she could get what she wanted? It was a contract she had mentally signed with Boris just as well as Barbie and Benedict, but the deadlines and commitments were known by only herself – apart from a vague, never too in-depth explanation of her polygamous interests, Lola kept to herself. Her body, her business, this was the moto.

There was no time for thinking about hurting anybody when the main goal was not getting hurt herself.

[sarahburness]

How Getting Hit by a Bus Taught Me To Stop Worrying and Start Living

“Sometimes it takes a good fall to really know where you stand.” – Hayley Williams

How often do you appreciate the pleasure of taking a deep breath? Have you stopped worrying about what the world can do to you, and instead focused on what you can do in the world? Do you actively appreciate your life, as a part of your daily routine?

Odds are you do not. I know I certainly didn’t, until it was nearly taken from me.

I’ve been riding bicycles around New York City since I was a child. While cycling in the city used to be considered something of an extreme sport, in the last couple of years the city built bike paths on many streets and avenues, making it safer.

It was during this expansion that I was hit by a bus.

In 2009 I would ride my bicycle to and from work every day, using bike lanes whenever possible.

Nights were a different story. I avoided certain roads because the prevalence of bicyclists who would travel the wrong way without using any lights raised the spectre of a crash, and falling out of the bike lane and into traffic.

When I feared Central Park West would be a dangerous way north, I would use Amsterdam Avenue instead.

While the law says that cyclists must use bike lanes when they are marked, it is also the law that cyclists must be accorded eighteen inches of roadway on all roads in the state. Thus riding on roads without bike lanes is not illegal by any stretch of the imagination, only dangerous.

I figured that, on balance, it was less dangerous than hitting an invisible cyclist coming straight at me out of the darkness.

It was sunny at 4:30 pm on November 22, 2011. Sunset was an hour away, but I was worried that it would get dark during my commute, so I took Amsterdam home.

The temperature was comfortable, and the traffic was not too heavy. I was riding my Bike Friday custom folding bicycle, past where I used to play billiards as a boy, past some high-end bars, and past a parked police cruiser. That’s where I was hit.

A Peter Pan bus was headed to New England on Amsterdam Avenue. Like most private bus drivers, the driver was hurried.

He was hustling to beat the evening rush. Getting stuck in traffic before the interstate would mean arriving late to his destination. Once on 10th/Amsterdam Avenue, he put the pedal down, weaving through traffic to get north as quickly as possible.

When the bus undertook a car, weaving into the rightmost lane, the side of the bus struck my shoulder, then the left handlebar of my bicycle.

I wobbled to the right, and the bike, its wheel turning ninety degrees as a result of the handlebars being struck, spun out from under me, sending me flying.

As I catapulted through the air, my instincts took over. Years spent studying Japanese martial arts taught me how to take a break-fall, and to tuck my chin so my neck would not snap on impact.

I did what I could.

When I landed on my left side, I injured my spine in ways that would only reveal themselves shortly after the lawsuit was over. I tore the labrum in my left shoulder. I was, however, not dead.

When I tucked my chin and turned my body away from the bus, I ensured that while the wheels of the bus ran over my backpack, they missed my head and spine, coming nowhere near my extremities.

I can still recall the feeling and sound of the air whipping past my neck as the rear wheels of the bus passed within inches of my head, pulling my backpack under so hard that the shoulder straps tore completely.

The bus driver just kept going.

The police car immediately chased the bus as soon as I was hit, catching up to it several blocks later. When the cops returned, they were shocked that I was not dead, since they had seen this sort of thing before, and it “always” ended in death.

After I staggered out of the roadway, I texted my wife, who collected me and took me to the hospital. I was in total shock, and my thoughts were a mess.

At the hospital, I told the nurse at reception what happened. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” I said.

It took a while to process what happened. There’s a reason they call the state you’re in after an accident “shock” after all. The night after the accident, I felt okay, and went to bed. The next morning, I was in so much pain, I couldn’t move.

There was a lawsuit. There was physical therapy. It wasn’t fun. At the same time, I went through the accident, lawsuit, and recovery, I was questioning my choice of career, and there were massive layoffs at my company, of which I was eventually a statistic.

Newly unemployed and physically damaged, I was forced to take stock of things. Was I happy? Should I keep chasing a career that made me miserable? How would I feel if I had to look down the barrel of a gun one more time?

Looking Death In The Eye Is Transformative

Coming face to face with death helped clarify things. Death puts life in high relief. You take stock of the elements of your life and see them objectively because you aren’t thinking about the experience of them so much as the existential question of “Is there a point to this?”

Trust me, the question becomes easier to answer after a near-death experience.

For a start, I knew I truly loved my wife and she loved me. Our relationship became stronger from enduring my injuries. I appreciate her even more with each passing day. She is one of the puzzle pieces that fits perfectly.

After all, what are the odds of meeting one specific person, then dating them, then marrying them, in a city as big as New York, especially considering that she isn’t from the USA?

I savor every day with her, because I know how unlikely our meeting was, and how it was nearly all undone under the wheels of the Peter Pan bus.

How about my career, the one I thought defined me as a person? I realized how much I really hated my job—the one I’d recently lost.

I started to explore other applications of my skills. I found not one, but several. I use this as a platform to elevate and better myself each day. I was immediately happier, and all of my long-term professional dreams came closer.

Most of all, I learned to live deliberately.

I make it a point to keep in touch with my parents regularly. When I am not working, I make sure to disengage so that I can devote my full attention toward my children.

I spend more time appreciating the beauty of Mother Nature, even if it means just a quick stroll in the park with my family.

And even though life keeps me busy and it’s harder to maintain friendships as an adult, I’ll try to check in with a few of my close friends to let them know that I appreciate them in my life.

I also spend less time worrying about who I’m supposed to be and more time focusing on who I want to be.

Growing up in a typical Asian family, my parents taught me that success in life means getting into high-paying professional careers. Jobs like accountants, doctors, lawyers, and engineers are the preferred ones. So, you can imagine how devastated they were when they discovered I became a graphic designer instead. At that point in life, I felt as if I’d let them down.

Life hands us scripts all the time. The people around us make superficial assessments of who we are and tell us, in words or actions, who we can and cannot be. Sometimes they underestimate us because of how we look, or discount us because of how we sound.

And most of the time, we take these scripts and use them as guides to our path, afraid of diverging from the set plots.

We believe that we are expected to look a certain way, live a certain way, in order to be deemed as worthy by the society. But what happens when life throws us a curveball—like being hit by a bus and being let go from your job?

Those are not part of the script. Without any guidance, we let ourselves believe that the script ends there.

Allowing all the scenes in your script to come from the world is letting your life be up to a roll of the dice. The truth is, we are the authors of our script. It is up to us to write the script we want to follow, because no one else is going to.

We may face a disaster because that’s part of the meta-plot of our scripts, but how we respond to it is up to us. We may not get to decide which cards were dealt to us, but we get to decide how we respond to each of the cards.

In the face of disaster, we can either let that moment become the defining source of lifelong disability or grievance, or we can use it as motivation to realign our priorities with the things that make us happy.

There’s this myth that one day the world will discover you while you’re going about your mundane life. This just doesn’t happen. The world isn’t going to discover you, it’s going to hit you with a bus. The world isn’t an author you want to put in charge of your life’s story.

So where did my script lead? All the changes I’ve mentioned were adjustments made in a moment redirecting the vectors of my life, but they were only moments; turning points now years in the past. Most of the time I live with a single effect of the accident: I feel alive.

Living isn’t just a state of being anymore, it is an active experience. Even when my body reminds me of the many ways it is dinged up, I’m reminded that I am alive, and I savor those feelings, because as bad as I feel some mornings, feeling anything at all is a pleasure, because it means I survived something horrifying, and get to laugh in the face of death.

My life’s script now also involves less worrying. We usually worry about the things we cannot control, and how they will potentially affect us. And most of the times, the things we worry about don’t materialize.

Years ago, I worried so much about the possibility of being laid off by my company that it kept me awake with cold sweats on many nights. Unfortunately, my worry turned into a premonition. But I also realize that worrying didn’t prevent anything from happening, and in the end, getting laid off was for the best.

So, why spend any life’s precious moments worrying?

Life’s too short for that.

About Jay Liew

Jay runs Great Big Minds. In his blog, he shares life-changing inspirational content with the world. He lives to empower, inspire and motivate others to live life great and go after their passion. You can connect with him more at greatbigminds.com or facebook.com/greatbigminds.

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