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ask-rp-devra · 3 years

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The night was short, the pair were able to sleep a good 8 hours before getting ready the next morning to set off towards the train station. The pair decided to come back through to pick up the Pokemon to bring back to the island before heading home, but for now they could stay behind with Devra’s mom, just for a little while longer. The only team members that went with them were coal, the little hybrid houndoomxarcanine pup, and Aliza, who had taken a shine to the ponyta gifted to Peach, they seemed to play well together, even Dreepy liked her. With bags gathered, goodbyes said, and tickets bought, the pair stepped onto the train, waving off Olivia who came to see her daughter go, and off they went, towards the new Galarian island, the Crown Tundra.

Devra settled into her seat, waving goodbye to her mom as Coal jumped up in the seat next to her. He was small enough to be on the train, but Aliza had to stay in her pokeball for the time being. She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I hope you slept alright. I always thought the guest room bed was too hard.”

“‘you saw me right? I was asleep in an aeroplane chair sitting up right, the bed was just fine. Much better than most of the places I sleep while away from the lab.” She recalled a few occasions being able to just about catch an hours rest while being trapped in a tree by aggressive Pokemon. “it was a warm, dry bed, with actual sheets and a roof over me haha. It was great.” She mindlessly petted Val, ordering a good coffee off the trolley that passed by, a sweet little wigglytuff in the train companies uniform asking for payment. She got her wallet out...or so she thought? Her hand reached into her bag, and hit something very cold and very smooth, reeling from the weird texture. Val sniggered to herself, shifting to the empty seat the bag sat on, to peer inside.

“I think we have a stow away.” Peach murmured, carefully opening the bag much wider than needed to get a good look. “‘Dreepy?” Inside was the little ghost type, she swore while waving to Devra’s mother at the station when they left, she had also spotted this Pokemon amongst others that had come to see the trainers off. He was wrapped up in one of Peach’s shirts, and seemed a little nervous about being caught in her stuff.

Devra looked over at Peach from her camera, having been looking th right some pictures. “Dreepy? He’s here? But I saw him with my mom. Here, I took a picture of the group when we left.” She held the camera so they could both look. “Oh....well. I thought he was in the picture.” She looked at the little Pokémon and sighed. “I guess he really wanted to come with you.”

“well, it’s fine with me, if he wants to come then I guess we’ve got a new team member.” She smiled a little at the Pokemon and let him and Val go and pick some snacks off the trolley before paying. She gave eyes at her steadfast fire type while Dreepy’s back was turned, asking without words for her to tone her usual disinterest down by like 20%, and she began chattering to the ghost Pokemon as she selected a strawberry filled dumpling thing in a wrapper. With the stern silence broken between the two, peach could relax a little, perhaps they two would be fine together for the trip.

“You’re right though, I swear I saw him on the platform too.” She glanced at the screen on the camera, seeing no signs of him. “‘how strange. You’re faster than you look hey bud?” Dreepy seemed quite proud of the compliment, and finally chose a chocolate-orange flavoured pastry twist before returning to the open bag to snack. “I’m buying, you and your team want anything?”

Devra nodded to Coal, who bounced over and happily started sniffing around until he found a pumpkin muffin. She then grabbed an apple cake and raspberry pastry for her other two team members before sitting back down. “I don’t need anything. Mom made sure I left full.” She laughed and opened Coal’s treat for him. “Tell Peach thank you young man.” The little pup barked happily as me bounced over to her for pets.

“she’s a good mom that one, I bet she’d enjoy a little holiday in johto, lots to see, I can hook you both up with some fun things to do for sure.” There was plenty of art galleries, heritage sites, and excellent restaurants throughout the region, not to mention live music, public gardens of great beauty, and a butt load of areas to sightsee in. Peach paid up and petted Coal, she was very glad to see him in capable hands, he took to Devra like a Ducklett to water, and she was confident he’d grow fast now he was out exploring with her. The Dreepy seemed to peep its eyes out at the hybrid Pokemon, still nibbling away on its snack.

Coal bounced back up next to Devra and started to munch on his treat. “I’m sure she’ll love the trip.” She looked out the window, watching the countryside roll by. “What’s the first thing you want to do once we get to the tundra?”

The professor sipped her hot drink, also enjoying the windows view. “hm, that’s a good question. I suppose I’d really like to find a place to stay, I’d normally not mind camping but I see the name ‘Crown TUNDRA’ and feel like I wouldn’t want to stay over night outside as much. What about you? You’ll be knees deep in herd Pokemon in no time I bet, anything else you’d want to check out?” The little Dreepy had snuck closer to the window to look out, still nibbling.

“Well, there is this big ruin building with a massive old dead tree that’s I’d love to see. But it’s at the top of one of the mountains here. So it might be tricky getting to.” She mindlessly pet Coal as she slowly started seeing snow. “And I think there’s a small town that we could ask about lodging at. Day trips to the tundra and back by dark?”

“‘oh I do love a tree, that sounds interesting, you could always try to find a Pokemon who could get you up that mountain a bit easier?” Peach had planned to do just that, the cold sneaking in, she could feel her bad knee aching ever so slightly already, and almost exactly after that thought crossed her mind, Val crept over to radiate heat, sitting in her lap, easing the dull pain.

“perhaps we can camp out some of the time, it’d be nice to see what happens at night, what Pokemon come out, just perhaps not in any heavy weather if it can be avoided. I did take a look online, the village there is usually pretty open to travellers, think I noticed a B&B or two with vacancies posted, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay.” By this point, the views had turned pure white, in the fields you could see grazing Pokemon, a herd of wooloo who almost blending in with the surroundings.

Devra spotter the wooloo right away, fawning over one of her favorite Pokémon. Coal picked up on his trainer’s excitement, his tail wagging happily as she told him what snow was like. “Oh I can’t wait to see Aliza’s face when she sees her first snow!”

“thats right, she’s not even seen a December yet, or a snowy route. Good thing you got your camera then isn’t it, I’m sure mom and pop would like to see her first experience with it, you know Cole hasn’t seen snow either before. Bet he’s real excited about now.” The pup must have felt something, seeing all this white for the first time. “‘what about you Dreepy, you seen snow before?” The little ghost type looked back, didn’t turn its body at all, but bent it’s neck fully back to look at the Professor upside down, giving no clear answer, which to her seemed like a big fat no, but perhaps he was a little shy about answering right away. “no matter, we’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

She giggled at the sight of the little dreepy. “He’s seen some light snow before. I caught him in the wild area. The weather there is always so weird. But he hasn’t seen this much before. This is going to be a big busy day.” She snapped a quiet picture of dreepy being cute, then one of Coal barking at the snow through the window.

The train began to turn a final corner, the tannoy alerting passengers to the upcoming station, the only stop on the journey coming up very soon.

“looks like we’re nearly there, ready to get going?” The trip had been only short, but outside it looked like a completely different region, so much snow and ice everywhere, nothing but pine trees. The woman grabbed her bags, not before waiting for the little Dreepy to return to the inside where it wrapped up in the spare clothes to keep warm. Val took to her shoulder as she usually did.

Devra nodded, standing up to gather her things. She then picked up Coal, holding his stout body in her arms to keep him from running of into the snow. “We’re ready. I’m so excited to see this area. I’ve read about it but they took forever to get it safe enough for more visitors.”

Safe enough wasn’t always entirely foolproof, and Peach was quietly happy she packed a first aid kit. She had heard some murmurs it was a little risky here, a lot of tough Pokemon roamed about.

“I hope you’re right, I’m sure the locals wouldn’t put people at risk.” The pair stepped off the train once the doors pinged open, the brisk cold air swept past, pulling them all out onto the platform. People came and went, and before long they became aware of the exits and where to head to next.

Devra took a slight lead of the two, following signs towards the little town. “Well, they did give all of us coming here a safety talk too. I just hope trainers actually listen. You gotta be smart about this place.” She then set Coal down and let the little guy run circles around the two humans. “I think I’ll wait to let Aliza our until we’re settled.”

With the pup thoroughly enjoying the snow, the trainers paused to check their phones, a map was needed for a moment, before they began to hear some loud ruckus just outside to the right of the station, sounded like a man and a young woman, peach didn’t even register it much, turning her back to the noise almost instinctually, trying to figure out which way to go. Val however was being nosey and sat on her shoulder judging the people making all the noise pretty hard from the look on her face.

“I think you’re right, we should find somewhere to stay before we really go out on a wild adventure.”

She nodded, looking at her own map on her Rotom phone, thanking the Pokémon inside for his help. “It looks like we head on that way.” She pointed to the road as it took a slight left turn. “Shouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk.”

“‘sounds good to me, wonder what Pokemon we might see on the way?” Pocketing the phone and hoisting her bag up a bit, Peach began to take a few steps, noticing the pair who were making such noise earlier, avoiding them entirely, they seemed to be having a dad-daughter tiff that was no ones business. Onward, to the first route of the Crown Tundra!

Devra took a glance at the arguing people and sighed, hoping the wouldn’t bother her or the Professor. Coal bounded ahead as they walked, but kept in his trainer’s sight. “It’s really pretty here. Just look at all the ice on these pine needles!” She crunched her way to a tree and found an angle to catch light in the ice.

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kuinliekkienroihu · 3 years

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I (crysuzumushi, haha) am working on answering your ask game prompts, you picked two of my very favorites, thank you! I'm gonna ask you to do Kaname too! And Byakuya.

Okay, thanks for the ask!! Sorry it took so long to answer, i wrote a novel. Also sorry for all the spelling and grammar mistakes, English isn’t my first language

Kaname:

1. Favorite thing about them

How he always seeks to act according to his sense of justice. Also he's one of the best written characters in the entire series. He's very complex, which makes him feel kinda like an actual person with understandable actions caused by his past. There are a lot more things, but i'm not good at putting things to words so yeah.

2. Least favorite thing about them

How underutilized he was as a character. I'm really glad there's more of him in cfyow, even though i've only read the first part

3. Favorite line

" I follow the path least soaked in blood. The path I walk is justice."

4. BrOTP

I have many, mostly Shuhei, Aizen, Gin and Sajin

5. OTP

6. NOTP

hmm, i don't like him and Aizen romantically at all, same goes for Sajin

7. Random headcanon

He has a plant garden in Las Noches in which he grows, among many other things, the ingredients for Aizen's tea, which is Kaname's secret special mix of herbs. Aizen really misses the tea Kaname made for him.

8. Unpopular opinion

He did nothing wrong, or rather, all he did was (more or less) justified

9. Song i associate with them

10. Favorite picture of them

This is my favorite too

Byakuya:

1. Favorite thing about them

Yes. I love every single thing about him. Even the things others would consider as flaws are perfect. I really like how calm and collected he is regardless of the situation, he's intelligent and calculating.

A very well written character with, in my opinion, the best character development. Especially his relationship with Rukia from ignoring her out of pain (since she looks almost identical to Hisana), protecting her to keep a promise, letting her be executed to keep another promise to genuinely caring about her and saving her life in many occasions, clearly regretting what he did to her and trying to compensate for his actions.

Kubo wrote his development extremely well, in the end of the series he's objectively a better person than in the beginning, but his personality didn't change much. He's still the same overly serious, stuck up asshole we know and I love him for it.

Another thing I love the most about him is the fact that he's another walking contradiction. But somehow, these contradictions make a paradox or a perfect harmony without cancelling each other. Kubo did an amazing job making him have many layers in his character. There's this line from a book (had to look it up, the book is called "the chrysanthemum and the sword") that the author used to describe Japanese people, I think I read that in someone's ig story and it got stuck in my head since it reminded me of Byakuya so much, and in my honest opinion, describes him rather thoroughly, especially second, third and fourth ones. His zanpakuto, which is one of the infinite reasons I love him, being fully portrayed by the second one "both militaristic and aesthetic" being combined into the beautiful but deadly weapon Senbonzakura is.

"both aggressive and unaggressive, both militaristic and aesthetic, both insolent and polite, rigid and adaptable, submissive and resentful of being pushed around, loyal and treacherous, brave and timid, conservative and hospitable to new ways"

When you think about it, he has the most fitting zanpakuto for his personality compared to the other shinigami and the way he uses it is one of the tiny details which make him, him.

His spot as a captain and the head of the Kuchiki clan is in my opinion fully earned (rest of the nobles (except Yoruichi) can go fuck themselves) (sorry Tara, ignore this please lol). He is hardworking and precise, almost workaholic, has trained hard from a very young age and puts duty above everything. But he still has a hidden "work mode: off" -side which we see occasionally as cracking a dry joke or the wakame taishi fuckery in general. Latter being, in my honest thoughts, hilarious and adorable.

There is a lot more but i literally can't list everything. This is already a hell of an essay.

2. Least favorite thing about them.

My answer is probably as you can expect: none.

There is one thing i don't really like, but it's about the writing.

!!TYBW SPOILERS!!

In the beginning of the arc i think that immediately releasing bankai, especially when he knew it was gonna be sealed, was out of character and i would have been very upset if he stayed dead, since the action which resulted in that was not something he would do.

3. Favorite line

“If it’s for the sake of my pride there’s nothing I won’t destroy.”

I know it’s from a filler but this line just sums his whole character, personality and motivations up so well.

4. BrOTP

I have so many, i want him to have friends lol. But to point out the most significant ones i'd say Rukia, Renji, Kenpachi, Toshiro and Ichigo

5. OTP

The only one i really ship him with is Nanao. Hisana is kind of “it’s canon and i’m fine with it.” I haven’t seen enough of her to form an opinion about the ship, but it’s obvious how much Bya loved her and it’s so sweet.

6. NOTP

Okay, i have never mentioned this before since i know many of my followers/mutuals ship them. Renji. The only ship I. Can't. Stand.

Like, platonically? Yes, they're bros. But romantically or especially sexually? No. Fuck no.

I don't care if you ship them, good for you, but please tag the stuff so it gets filtered.

7. Random headcanon

He sleeptalks a lot. And it's not mumbling, he talks the same way as when he's awake but it's absolute nonsense.

Byakuya, asleep: Do not eat the drawer.

Hisana, awake: *watches him in utter confusion*

Byakuya, still asleep: Give him a pink tricycle.

Hisana: To whom?

Byakuya: Head captain Yamamoto

Hisana: *trying not to laugh*

Another hc that i have is that he is a closet metalhead and likes especially power- and symphonic metal (this might sound very weird if you know nothing about this kind of music lol)

8. Unpopular opinion

His actions in the soul society arc were understandable. He was put between the bark and the tree (i hope you get what i mean) and had to choose from just letting things happen and going against central 46 and all of soul society (or at least that’s what he thought). Also the line he said to Ukitake, which is still easily in top5 most asshole things he has said/done, in my opinion shows what he thought of Rukia’s execution and why he didn’t do anything to prevent it. “Once you’ve let one of your people die.. ...two or three more make no difference.” Both of his parents are dead, Hisana is dead, Ginrei is most likely dead and he thought for 100 years that Yoruichi was dead too. I think Byakuya thought losing one more person he cares about couldn’t hurt more than it already has and therefore didn’t think it was worth breaking the promise he made in his parents’ grave and trying to save her. And that fucking breaks my heart.

9. Song I associate with them

I have a 6h long playlist which I’m not gonna post. Can’t choose just one lol.

10. Favorite picture of them

*digs through nearly infinite pinterest board, tumblr and phone’s gallery*

This is (one of) my favorite manga panel(s) of him. I love how calm but powerful he looks. The lines representing the heavy spiritual pressure. Like an inescapable doom approaching (which indeed was the case). And for some reason i love it.

My favorite fanart, which i obviously can’t post since you can’t post others art so here’s the link: https://www.deviantart.com/keelerleah/art/Bleach-Byakuya-Looking-Back-127254804

and then one which I think is official art or at least an edit of it, if I’m wrong please lmk

#long post #sorry this took 2 and half eternities to complete #bleach #kaname tosen #byakuya kuchiki #ask game

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thezodiaczone · 4 years

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Pisces Compatibility

PISCES + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) Aries is the zodiac's first sign, Pisces its last. You're the Alpha and the Omega, the dawn and the sunset. You're as far apart and as close together as two signs can get. Although your differences are vast, you also have a broad expanse of material from which to fashion your relationship. Your polar positions can actually make you a great match. Aries loves to be adored and spoiled, and generous Pisces will give everything in the name of love. In Pisces' worshipful gaze, Aries feels brilliant and boundless, and his insecurities melt away. This is important for the sensitive Ram, whose "wounded soldier" archetype is healed by the Pisces nurse. In this relationship, Aries is free to follow his natural hunting instincts; Pisces prepares a banquet from his conquests. The danger: You both have vivid imaginations, but with two dreamers at the helm of this romance, the ship can veer off course. Aries is a take-charge leader, but needs a strong second mate. Bravado and confidence don't come easy to insecure Pisces, who falls into feigned helplessness under duress. Moody spells are common for your signs, and digging yourselves out of emotional ditches can be a challenge. You'll need a council of advisors to help you manage aspects of daily life—accountants, lawyers, coaches, therapists. Aries can be naturally aggressive, where Pisces is passive or passive-aggressive. You'll need to adapt your communication styles in order to be heard.

PISCES + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) ♥♥♥♥ This is a lovely match of two pleasure-driven sensualists. Taurus is ruled by beauty planet Venus, and Pisces is governed by enchanting Neptune. You both love gourmet food, wine and culture, and you make a creative couple with sophisticated flair. You never run out of things to discuss, whether it's the latest New Yorker piece, art theory, or the obscure band both of you love. In the bedroom, the lusty Bull is happy to enact any fantasy that Pisces' boundless imagination conjures—and there will be many. Domestic bliss is assured, and your fussy decorating styles will match perfectly, much to your snobbish delight. For the long term, you'll need to regulate your energy with each other, or you can lapse into a master-and-servant dynamic. Passive-aggressive Pisces must become more assertive, and forceful Taurus should relax his domineering ways. At times, Pisces' secretive spells can cause fissures in the foundation, arousing suspicion in possessive Taurus. Even if what Pisces is hiding is inconsequential, the act itself destabilizes the relationship. Emotional manipulation infuriates the Bull, who prefers everything above board, and hates to be blindsided. However, Pisces can't always verbalize his complex feelings as quickly as Taurus demands. Too much forcefulness can intimidate the gentle Fish, sending him swimming into unreachable depths.

PISCES + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) You're both dual signs: Gemini is the Twins, and Pisces is symbolized by two Fish swimming in opposite directions. You're pop psychology's poster children for commitment-phobia. Are you in or are you out? It depends on the day, the mood, the cosmic alignment. Obviously, this is no way to run a relationship—but wait. Here's a golden chance to peer into love's looking glass and see your own shadowy Id mirrored back. Yes, your psyches and hang-ups are as bizarre as Alice's rabbit-hole tumble into Wonderland. Pisces, you really can be as needy, emotionally exhausting and manipulative as Gemini says. Gemini, you are indeed capable of being a double-talking, evasive ice-tyrant with a heart like polished marble. And…so what? If you can actually own your dark sides—which we all have—you're also capable of spreading tremendous light. You must negotiate your differences with transparent honesty, though. Pisces is an emotional Water sign; Gemini is an intellectual Air sign. Unless you balance the proportions, Gemini drowns in Pisces' undertow and the zodiac's Mermaid suffocates from breathing too much oxygen. Gemini must strive to connect emotionally, and Pisces will need to lighten up. Perennial dissatisfaction is also a killer. Don't say you want something, then refuse to be happy when your partner provides it. Gratitude is an intimate act: it requires you to acknowledge that your partner can reach you, a vulnerable place. Two words to save your relationship: "Thank you" and "You're right."

PISCES + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) ♥♥♥♥ You're a pair of softies underneath it all, even if the world sees a hard Crab shell or a tough, scaly Fish. Alone with each other, your compatible Water signs are as tender as can be. You're both compassionate and nurturing, soothing each other with sustenance and sensitivity. There's nothing a stick of butter, cookies made from scratch, or a nice after-dinner cordial by the fire can't solve. Romantic and sensual, you love to pipe classical music through the sound system, light the candelabras and whip up a gourmet feast side-by-side. Hours of kissing and foreplay will follow. Though your relationship is a refuge, it can also become a fishbowl that limits your growth. You absorb each other's fluctuating moods like a sponge, so get out of the aquarium-for-two. With your refined sensibilities, you're excellent patrons of the arts, so head to museums, gallery openings, concerts, and dance performances. Fling open your doors for dinner parties that toast an artistic friend, an esteemed poet, or a relative's good news. This satisfies your nurturing instincts, and invites new energy into your space. You must both learn when to let go of grudges, since you can be passive-aggressive and play the victim when your feelings are hurt. Slammed doors, sulking and brooding must stop. Don't excuse bad behavior with psychobabble, either (e.g., "When you said that, it reminded me of how my mother couldn't love"). Grow up, will you? If you've been cruel, simply say "I'm sorry" and offer a long hug. The power of touch can heal anything between you, too.

PISCES + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) Your signs are very different, but you can eventually gel into a lasting relationship. Pisces is a flowy, sensitive Water sign who needs a decisive mate. Confident Leo, a Fire sign, is a natural leader, eager to rule the relationship. Because Pisces takes longer to articulate his needs, Leo could mistakenly assume he's got the upper hand, and that Pisces is content to follow. Not so fast. In your own ways, you both wear your hearts on your sleeve, but you need to tune into each other's sensitive spots. You're incredibly romantic, and the tender passion between you is great in the beginning. However, you may hit a dry spell when it's time to get truly intimate.

Secretive Pisces feels so vulnerable when his soul is exposed, and may lash out at Leo in an unconscious reaction to the Lion's strength—for example, criticizing Leo's appearance, weight or intelligence. These cruel barbs are actually just a projection of Pisces' own self-doubt, but they plunge a thorn in the Lion's paw no less. Pisces must work through the tedious knots of his insecurities, which lay deep in his psyche. Leo is a powerhouse who can run the show with his eyes closed, but he'll do best to step aside and give the Fish his chance to shine. Shy Pisces is a true creative force, but his brilliant imagination and keen intuition can be eclipsed by showy Leo. Work through this. Luxury is a weakness for your signs, and you love to indulge. You may need to take courses on money management together, or team up to make a fortune so you never have to worry about it.

PISCES + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ Virgo and Pisces are two of the most powerful healers in the zodiac. Virgo is an Earth sign, clinical and data-driven, always there with a practical answer and a helping hand. Water-sign Pisces has emotional compassion, the ability to empathize and absorb other people's pain. You're opposite signs: Virgo is the doctor; Pisces is the nurse. You can teach each other a lot, doing much good on the planet along the way. Virgo is the zodiac's giver, performing acts of selfless service (Mother Theresa is a Virgo). However, it's hard for Virgo to receive, since he views "neediness" as a weakness in himself. Enter Pisces, ruler of the zodiac's receptive twelfth house. The Fish knows how to surrender boundaries and allow people's energy to flow in. Pisces teaches Virgo that accepting love is a generous and selfless act. It opens the door for others to be their greatest selves, to discover their power through contributing.

At times, Pisces' emotional nature can overwhelm Virgo, leaving him ungrounded. You both need doses of solitude to reconnect with your souls. Writing, playing music (especially classical compositions or Gregorian chants), painting and creativity is healing to you both. This relationship also brings out your spiritual sides. Meditation, yoga and metaphysical study can open up great psychic channels. These practices also prevent unhealthy addictions, which your easily-stressed signs may adopt as a means of self-medicating. Watch out for secretive tendencies, which you both have as a result of perfectionism and insecurity. Communicate openly, or air your "shameful" skeletons to a confidante—otherwise, you'll beat yourselves up unnecessarily, causing distance in the relationship.

PISCES + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) Drifting into a dappled dreamscape of your own imagination, your poetic souls entwine against astrological odds. Libra is an Air sign and Pisces is a Water sign; together you can stir a gentle sea breeze or drown in your own sexual tsunami. But oh, the romance is worth it. Like any good bodice-ripper, there's passion, intrigue and mystique to spice up this storyline. You can get lost for days in a decadent meal, a gorgeous sonata, each other's luminous eyes. While the cynics gag, they secretly envy your enchanted, oxytocin-addled bliss. Living in a fantasy is fun for your signs, and gratification eclipses all boundaries and structures. Another Sancerre, an hour less sleep—it can all be justified in the name of pleasure. It's when reality steps in that things get hairy. After waking past noon in your umpteenth limb-and-linen tangle, you remember that pesky paycheck, your stuffed Inbox, the unopened mail. Oops. Hung over and wholly unequipped to deal with the overwhelm, you lash out at each other. Without outside contact and obligations to anchor you, you can both descend into bouts of moodiness, indulgence and even depression. Balance—the Libra catchphrase—must be practiced early on.

PISCES + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) ♥♥♥♥ You're both "spiritual beings having a human experience," Finding an equally sensitive, divinely connected soulmate feels like coming home. Scorpio and Pisces are compatible artistes who love music, drama and romance. Like a lighthouse for two ships adrift on the emotional high seas, your relationship is an anchor and a haven. However, it's not immune to the turbulence caused by your secretive, Water sign natures. Emotional withdrawal is a self-protective act you've both honed over the years, but this tactic backfires when used against each other. The trick is learning to catch a bad mood when it starts, then processing the feelings instead of lashing out. Once the righteous anger and wounded egos kick in, you're like two runaway trains waging a war of domination and submission. Scorpio control tussles with Pisces guilt, Scorpio withholding wrestles Pisces evasion, and so on. Yet, you both want the same thing: a partner who inspires absolute, unshakeable trust with a money-back guarantee. What you need to learn is how to give it before you get it. To adapt the saying, be the change you want to see in your partner. It will keep you together for lifetimes.

PISCES + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) What happens when the most sensitive, tender-hearted sign (Pisces) links up with the most insensitive, tactless sign (Sagittarius)? Disaster, unless you handle each other with extreme care. Romantic Pisces is a Water sign who craves deep emotional bonding, while independent Sag is a Fire sign who feels smothered by too much of the touchy-feelies. You'll need to balance your most distinctive traits and parcel them out in measured doses. Your communication styles don't work together naturally either. Sagittarius is honest to a fault, dishing the unvarnished truth and heavy-handed advice (usually unsolicited), then whistling while Pisces weeps. Indirect Pisces would rather flee to Katmandu than face conflict, but standing up to Sagittarius requires it. Pisces is prone to passive-aggressive tactics; yet, subtle cues and hints will sail right over Sag's head, while the Archer's arrow of truth spears the Fish's heart. What do you have in common? You're both skittish about commitment—namely, the terrifying idea of being "trapped." Since Pisces rules fantasy and Sagittarius rules adventure, you can neatly escape the daily drudge together—at least until reality comes crashing down. Still, life is always tinged with magic when you're together, and the bedroom remains an enchanting space of divine communion for you.

PISCES + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) On the surface, you might seem like an odd match—imagine a Harvard MBA in Armani dating a paint-splattered artist in Oshkosh. Yet, your signs pair well, even if you don't want to admit it. With classic good looks and a dutiful nature, Capricorn fits neatly into the system. Pisces is a flowy Fish who excels at playing the the artsy rebel, the indie darling, the adorable mess. By comparison, Capricorn seems structured and regimented—but appearances deceive. While Pisces may delight in coloring outside the neat lines Capricorn draws, the real surprise is that Capricorn is the bigger freak behind closed doors. Capricorn has a dominant, even cruel streak that can play out in the bedroom (not that submissive Pisces doth protest). Leather, whips and kinky fun—it's all fair game. You both love to find lesser-known wine, music, and art, a pride yourself on having cultivated tastes. Together, you can traverse the tony uptown spaces to the lowbrow dives, discovering cultural jewels wherever you go. Your diverse strengths could make you great business partners, too. Open a gallery, with Pisces as curator and Capricorn as financial backer.

PISCES + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) Old and new come together in an interesting combination. Pisces is an ancient velvet boudoir with dripping candles and fainting couches; Aquarius is a modern, steel-and-glass construction heated by solar panel. Yet, this strange match can work if it's built around a shared cause or passion. You're both die-hard humanitarians, and if you share a common vision, you'll stay together for life. Pisces is a Water sign, more emotional and complex in nature than Aquarius. Contrary to myth, Aquarius is an Air sign (not Water), though it's symbolized by the water-bearer holding an urn. The lighter Aquarian touch lifts Pisces out of the murky, depressive swamp, while enchanting Pisces adds tassels and trim to Aquarius' cold, clinical reality. You both morbidly fear being trapped in a boring, conventional commitment. Since you can never really figure each other out, the attraction stays strong. A little mystery will keep you fascinated, though too much (ahem, Pisces) will make the relationship way too much work for Aquarius.

PISCES + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) You love each other; you love each other not. Pisces is denoted by two fish swimming in opposite directions—one toward security, the other to freedom. Such tender bait is a fellow Fish who's equal parts commitment-phobe and serial monogamist! As partners in paradox, you'll play nursemaid, Shiatsu-ist, and sous chef to one another, doting until it hurts. Then, of course, comes the Great Escape—intimacy overload strikes, but you feel too "guilty" to ask for a night off from gazing into each other's eyes as some angsty singer-songwriter pipes through the iPod. Instead, you fly into a passive-aggressive panic, turning on each other vis a vis a good self-flogging. "It's not you, it's me," you call over your shoulder as the door shuts behind you (read: "I'm too gutless to demand better foreplay"). "I'm such an awful person—you deserve better," Pisces laments (translation: "You suck"). The real problem isn't your chemistry, it's that you're both so damn indirect. Communication is the 101 cornerstone of a lasting relationship, and if you keep walking on eggshells, you'll end up resentful, depressed (anger turned inward) or eventually exploding with rage. With the right prescriptions, a good therapist and maybe a couples' karate class (think: the socially-sanctioned chop to his midsection that you've been dying to deliver), you can swim together like happy little minnows forever.

#pisces #compatibility #astrology #zodiac #love #relationships #pisces compatibility

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teacherintransition · 3 years

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IT’S STILL NOT FIXED? @#%&.$€£§?} Liberty Bell Take me Away!

"Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent”*

From me …”your time is your own when you retire.” Not exactly the case my friend, we will, all of us be captive to the throes of incompetence and being “shushed” by some in certain service business. The only thing you can do to maintain your sanity is to nestle up to your favorite barstool for the panacea when in pain and obtain sanctuary. This becomes problematic when your home away from home, the place where everyone knows your name, the place where the omniscient bartender has your required libation already poured when you cross the threshold … when this establishment has been closed for 1,193 days. Et omnis gloria eius…. The Liberty Bell.

The days since I announced my retirement in August 5, 2020; have for the most part, been pretty damn cool. I’ve started a website, a business, am a writing a book, am writing a blog that I plan to transfer into book form, I’m walking, I’m painting like crazy and have read around sixty books. All in all with honey do’s included, I’ve been a very good boy. Not everyday has been grand and nor should it. I can often find peaceful solace upon my lawn mower, lawn tractor, the throne of the most high to be the right balm for almost any emotionally taxing time; I’m pretty damned easy to please. For those that know me, I’m kind of Hank Hill about my lawn. Neatly cut on a weekly basis and verdant green, “I mean to tell ya!” OCD? You bet your ass I am… and I’ve got one of the best lawns on the block. My red, powerhouse mower had been “injured” for the last four weeks… scratch that SIX weeks which has reduced me to the bourgeoisie practice of paying some one to do my yard work. Not me, not ever… or at least not for long.

Without retreading over the bloody, battle ground of indignation, “the customer is always right,” “you need to understand sir,” blah, blah, blah yada, yada, yada, Yoda,” get over it you must?” I find my self like the French and the Germans at the Marne in World War I … at a stalemate. In times like these when a man, who realizes that deployment of WMD’S, would only escalate the matter beyond all reasonable proportion, he must know it’s time to lick his wounds, catch his breath and refresh himself at his neighborhood pub with tasty libations and good conversation. There was only one place in my town of Nacogdoches that could fully restore me with vim and vigor and had all the requisite charms to soothe the savage beast: The Liberty Bell Aug. 2013-May 2018.

As mentioned previously, I shall use pseudonyms to protect the identities of the people who were my superheroes. K opened the Liberty Bell in August of 2013. Kim and I thought we’d “try out the new spot,” and had dinner there the first weekend. K billed it as a wine bar with pub fare and live music. She underplayed her hand… pub fare? More like steaks, shrimp and grits, shepherds pie that transcended finger food pub fare. Over the years, we would enjoy countless bands and singer songwriters. But a wine bar? You sneaky little proprietor of manna and flowing nirvana… she had beer(s), bourbons, gins, vodkas, ….Scotch Whisky with names like Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, Maccallan , Johnny Walker R,B, and B, the Balviene and others. K had prepared and provided an oasis from what St. Anthony Bourdain referred to as the sea of TG Mcfuckdies, Appledon’ts, and other prefabricated restaurant grill ideas that could be found at the end of every feeder road on any highway in the country. The Liberty Bell my friends was something completely different… at least for us small town folk in Nacogdoches. Our first waitress was KC who showed all the charm, wit, and politesse one would expect from an high end dining establishment. This it wasn’t, but it damn sure wasn’t an all you could eat food buffet and salad bar either. As we exited that balmy August evening through the doors, Kim and I looked at each other and, with the stars gleaming in the sky declared, “we really like this place.” In truth, I was holding something back, in my mind and in my heart, I was really thinking, “no, I fucking love this place!”

The decor was simple: dark wood flooring, a mid tone oak bar with the all important brass railings, multi colored earth toned brick that appeared subdued and solid with the look of being an older establishment that gave a feeling of reliability and solidity. A row of draft beers that provided the patron with an eclectic variety of artistic fermented malt beverages. K was presenting a true farm to table dining experience that filled out a fresh, fantastic menu. An eclectic mix of your American staples, southwestern fare, delicious steaks for we carnivores and a few surprises thrown in and expertly prepared.

H worked for K and was the kindest sweetest, fun, personable soul I may have ever met. It was a definite, “YES!” moment if you got her table. You were not only going to get wined and dined, but we’re guaranteed laughter and a hug. Choosing extraordinary personnel, was the magic intangible that made the Liberty Bell … my spot. H was also a fine arts major and ran the art gallery in the restaurant. There were many works from the university Art school, but H sought out local talent and even displayed my art. My paintings were hanging in a gallery! This local flair of coxing the locals to put their talents “out there,” was another draw to get you into this place…this wondrous place. We made friends there … that enjoyed you … not just because you were going to spend money. They would come and sit with you if things were slow and if they weren’t slow, they’d damn sure make the superhuman effort to let you know that they knew you were in house. The master of this service industry art form was J. He was genuinely happy to see you enter the door followed with a hand shake, a smile and a from the heart, “good to see you man!” J and later his protégée N, loved a challenge. You wanted a special nightcap to close out the evening? There was none of this, “duh, I’m sorry we don’t make that,” no, no my friend. J and N knew how to make it or would research right there or suggest a perfectly acceptable substitute. The next week you could safely bet the farm that your drink request was on the menu often being named after you. How could you expect anything better? They wanted you here and they damn sure wanted you back.

All of these niceties, these actions that you could never expect from the chain bar, grill and swill were what made The Liberty Bell transcendent.

“A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation. ”

William Blake

This my friends is the money shot for a personal pub…. not the drinks, not the grub, not the large plant by the door… can the place that you’ve chosen really lift you up when your down? If the whole week has been filled with smart ass criticisms by some passive aggressive mid management flunky who hovers around 5’ 5”, wears shirt sleeves with a polyester tie can two hours spent within the confines of said pub wash away all the smatterings of the Napoleon complex supervisor and have you smiling and laughing and your not even drunk yet….this is the place to be mi compadres. If you congregate with others also beaten down by the soul crushing 9 to 5 and can find commonality in the struggles of your fellow proletariat and can see the good in SOME of the human race, well baby, you’ve found your sanctuary and hold on with all your strength, because one day it might be gone. For four years almost every Friday, Kim and I would meet at the Liberty Bell and commiserate, vent, fuss and heal. Going home, twisting open a beer and mindlessly watching Sports Center was not the ticket. An early afternoon at The Bell was truly good for what ails you. The pub, K, KC, H, J, N, C and the others are all gone… and The Liberty Bell has been replaced with … uh … something. All too many afternoons call out for that salve that soothes the savage beast. I’m reminded often when things just don’t turn out like you want….not to the degree of break down status, but just to the point that a familiar face, your comfortable bar stool and genuine conversation would make everything right with the world again … at least for awhile.

*Webb, Jack; Dragnet; Mark VII Productions; 1951-1970

https://youtube.com/channel/UClK_MAvZtDiLmlp-4HIN7NA

https://instagram.com/loveandwinemedia?utm_medium=copy_link

http://labibliotecacoffee.com/

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missmonsters2 · 5 years

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The Color of You || Part II

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Action

NOTE: I’ve been aggressively reading on color therapy & the psychology of color LOL You’re more than welcome to comment/reply to this post if you would like to be added to a tag list.

PART I

PART II of X

Count: 3715

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Natasha was in the middle of her living room, looking over William’s profile again.

She spread out the photos provided to her before leaning back with her fingers holding her chin.

Natasha was still working on her plan.

Maria had helped her set up dedicated funds to her mission to use as his investor, but she needed more than that.

She needed more than just being a sponsor to him.

She needed to get into his inner circle.

Idly tapping her chin, Natasha’s thoughts wandered to you from the other night. The sight of you tucking your hair behind your ear and demure smile wouldn’t leave her mind.

How did someone like you end up with someone like William?

The sound of her phone vibrating brought her out of her thoughts.

Clint: How’s it going over there?

It was Clint texting her to check in on her. Again.

Nat: It’s fine. Stop texting me unless you’re dying.

Clint: ...Rude...

Natasha rolled her eyes with a light smile before looking at the clock. Sighing, she stood up to get prepared for tonight’s events.

William was hosting another event, but this time as part of his political campaign. He was hosting it in his home, so it was a big opportunity for Natasha to look around.

Her goal of the night was still to obviously information gather but to also take a look around in his home, and secure a personal invite over where there would be more one-on-one time.

It would also give her an opportunity to get to know you better as well. That night when she caught your eye from across the room, it was like an electrical bolt hitting her that you were more than just a trophy wife to William.

And when Natasha got that feeling, she was certainly always right.

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“You know, this wouldn’t be so bad if you just imagine that you’re on fire and the building is collapsing.”

Natasha snorted as David took a sip from his drink.

“Tell us how you really feel,” she replied with a smirk.

Though she couldn’t blame him. God, she was bored out of her mind. The amount of old white men she had spoken to already this evening was already numbing her mind.

Natasha had arrived at an appropriate time, neither early nor too late. William had approached her within minutes of her arriving, driving her into a conversation about his campaign, and her thoughts. She had merely nodded her head at the time about his interesting policies, occasionally saying something that would suggest to him that she agreed or shared the same ideology.

When more guests started to pour in, William regarded her with his own smile, asking if she would be free sometime in the next couple of days to have lunch with him.

It was secured and almost entirely too easy.

Just as the right amount of guests came to keep William busy, she disappeared off to snoop around.

She checked the place from head to toe, every nook and cranny.

But she didn’t find anything suspicious, not even a book out of place. Everything was where it was meant to be.

And that was off to Natasha. It was like everything was staged to show what William wanted people to see, but Natasha saw that whatever William was hiding, she wouldn’t find it here.

“So,” David said, breaking Natasha out of her thoughts. “What did you think of William’s fiancé?”

“Have you met her?” Natasha asked in return, watching as David nodded once.

“Yes, I kind of want to ask her to blink twice if she’s being held against her will because there’s no way William managed to woo a girl like that.”

Natasha chuckled throatily, trying to contain the full burst of laughter that truly wanted to come out. She was coming to appreciate her time spent with David, a man who clearly shared many similar thoughts to her and had no problem saying them out loud.

“This party is as riveting as watching paint dry, and I think I’ve stayed my obligatory time, I’m going to head out? Are you staying?” David asked as he put his drink down against the bar, dusting his hands off.

“Just a little longer,” Natasha answered. It didn’t feel like she had gotten enough intel on anything other than whatever William was hiding was most likely off base. Not to even mention she hadn’t seen you tonight either.

“Alright,” David said, taking a step forward before turning to her. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, come to my estate and have lunch with me.”

Natasha raised her brow at David but nodded, bidding him goodbye as he left. For another 45 minutes, she made an effort to talk to more people at the party, easily being able to identify who would be sponsoring and donating to William’s campaign. There were a couple of men and women she made a mental note to look into more as they were clearly radicals.

After Natasha felt like she had done enough for the night, she made a move to leave. As she passed the balcony though, she caught a similar silhouette. She opened the door quietly, pushing through the thick red curtain to find you standing out there alone against the railing. You were wearing another long-sleeved dress that revealed nothing but your curves.

Natasha closed the door softly, content that it shut out the unintelligible noises from inside.

“Are you not enjoying the party?”

You whipped around, body tensed with a sharp turn of your head at Natasha’s presence.

“I--”

You coughed lightly, a blush dusting your cheeks as you admitted slowly, “I don’t fit in well with this type of crowd.”

That was interesting, Natasha thought.

From what Natasha knew, you were from an affluential family, although you did just make it out of bankruptcy.

This was supposed to be your crowd.

“That’s alright. You’re all the better for not fitting in.” Natasha walked up to the ledge next to you, resting her elbow up before propping her chin on it. There was a slight breeze that brushed against Natasha’s fingers.

She looked over subtly to you, her eyes drawing down to your neatly trimmed nails, spotting a small line of paint just on the side of your ring finger. Natasha ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth at the sight.

You had your head tilted downwards and slightly to the side, it gave a great view of your slender neck and defined collarbone as you had a soft smile to what Natasha had said.

It was the small things like this that caused the confusion in Natasha.

You had chosen a man like William Cain to be your husband, and for some reason, Natasha couldn’t ignore that.

But Natasha could feel that a direct approach with you would cause you to close yourself off. She needed to be careful.

“And what about you, Miss Rovinski? Are you someone who fits in?” You asked quietly in return.

It was quiet for a moment, and Natasha licked her bottom lip slowly.

“I guess you can say I fit in anywhere but belong nowhere,” Natasha admitted quietly, and when she went to see your expression, it was as if you were not surprised by the answer.

Perhaps seeing that quality in Natasha.

“Do you want to know something interesting?” Natasha asked, and it seemed the question surprised you, but you nodded, albeit a little hesitantly.

“A few days ago I went to a local café in the morning, and I had overheard a conversation between two men who couldn’t understand how society, women, in particular, were so invested in art and fashion. There was too much emphasis on art, and it was overrated.”

Natasha caught your nervousness at the statement and quirked her lips.

“I didn’t agree with the sentiment as they commented on how the café looked bare and too plain--a problem only art could solve, isn’t that right?”

You hadn’t quite reacted to Natasha’s story, unsure where she was really going with this.

“I went to an artist’s gallery opening a couple months ago, and it featured a painting of a local village she had experienced in her travels. It was filled with such vibrant colors, sharp and soft. No words had accompanied the painting, yet people crowded around it, overwhelmed with emotion. Some people cried, some laughed loudly, and some were echoed by the image--are you understanding me?”

You nodded slowly.

“So, I’ve decided that sometimes art is the only thing that can draw out what people may truly be feeling, leaves a mark that words cannot reach,” Natasha said as she looked up at the starry sky.

Natasha turned back and gave you a quiet, warm smile. “That’s why I envy artists sometimes for being able to reach people in a different light.”

The hesitance and stiffness in you melted away with Natasha’s words, a rare genuine smile gracing your lips for her.

Natasha pulled back her arms, looking towards the door.

This was enough for tonight.

Natasha was leaving before your voice stopped her.

“Thank you...your words have reached me...and they make me incredibly happy.”

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Natasha stood in front of two large mahogany doors before they opened to reveal Davidl standing there.

“Natanya, you made it! Did you find it okay?” He greeted her, pulling her into a slight hug and kisses on either side of her cheeks.

“Yes, my driver seemed to know exactly where he was going.” It seemed like all luxurious private drivers knew where the big players were.

“Come on in, I’ve got someone preparing us tea and lunch. Are you allergic to anything or any preferences?” David asked as he ushered her in. It was quite a walk to his patio outside. A full garden with a pond and fountain that was well maintained was the view.

“No, anything will be fine,” Natasha said as she took her seat, placing her small purse onto the table.

David sat across from her, crossing his legs so that his ankle rested against his thigh, and temple resting against his knuckles.

“Someone else will be coming too,” David said with a casual smile. “My boyfriend.”

Natasha raised her brow. That had explained some things.

“Why tell me that? What if I was extremely homophobic?” Natasha asked, only to see what David would say.

David let out a genuine laughter.

“Please,” he said after his laugh. “We flock together like birds. I’ve seen you eyeing various women throughout the parties--and men, although it looked like you were eyeing them begrudgingly.”

Natasha wasn’t sure if David had a better eye than she thought or if his gaydar was just that good, either way, she did feel a little exposed.

“What’s your boyfriend like?” Natasha asked, changing the topic from her.

David smiled softly, “Liam’s a photographer. He doesn’t come from money which I like. He’ll call me out on my shit if he thinks I’m being a dickhead. You should see him when I try to do extravagant things.”

David was chuckling by the end of it, the softness bringing a small smile to Natasha’s lips.

“Do your parents know?” Natasha asked.

“Yep,” David sighs. “They think it’s just a phase, but Liam is the one for me, I’m pretty sure. Since I’m the only child, my parents haven’t cut me off yet because they want me to take over the business. Once they see how serious I am, I have no idea how they’ll react. I’m fully prepared to be cut off, but Liam’s been teaching me about putting money away in case that happens.”

Natasha couldn’t help but smile at how endearing this all sounded, a rich man with learning how to save and budget from his financially average boyfriend.

The rest of the afternoon, they had made small idle chat until Liam arrived. He was a pretty athletically fit man, taller than David and nearly hovering over him. He had a boyish soft charm, yet intensity to him that made Natasha see why David was so enamored.

“I saw William today leaving from my photoshoot,” Liam commented as he finished up his meal.

“Oh?” David commented, disinterestedly.

“Yeah,” Liam continued. “He was standing outside a café with someone I haven’t recognized from any of the parties or his campaign. He seemed pretty angry with whoever he was talking to since he was shouting and flailing his arms.”

That piqued Natasha’s attention.

“Oh, wow,” Natasha commented. “What café was it?”

“The one on 18th. There’s a whole bunch of cafés down that street.”

Natasha hummed, storing that information for later.

The rest of the lunch went smooth, and eventually, David took them inside to his living area.

Natasha looked at the photos around the room, a lot of it being childhood photos of David. She was intrigued to see so many pictures of him and another boy. It wasn’t until she found a high school photo of David and the man next to him a younger version of William.

“Wow, you guys really were family friends,” Natasha commented as she took the photo from the ledge to look at it closer.

David hummed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “We were actually pretty close back in high school and a little through university.”

“What changed?” Natasha asked because it was clear now that David hated the other man.

David leaned his head on his fist against the chair as Liam sat next to him. “He was always arrogant, don’t get me wrong. But you could tell he cared about things, I guess. I think it all started to change after his dad died midway the first year of university.”

“Oh, it was a car accident, right?” Natasha inquired. That was what was on his file.

David pursed his lip, looking around his home as if to see if anyone else was there.

“That’s what his family wanted officially published. But the truth is, we don’t really know for sure.”

That was interesting, Natasha thought. Her file should’ve had that. Why was his father’s death so tight-lipped?

She would have to do more digging on that because whatever it was, it was clearly a changing point for William.

The subject dropped, and they chatted for about another hour before Natasha decided that it was time to go.

“Oh!” David exclaimed before she was leaving. “Before you go, my parents are hosting their 40th anniversary next weekend. Here’s your invitation. I know you’re going to see William and his fiancé...please give this to them.”

“I swear you rich people have a party every week,” Liam mumbled.

Natasha took the invitations, raising her brow at David. Clearly, the man just didn’t want to see William. He smiled widely at her trying to look innocent, and Natasha could only roll her eyes.

David gave her a parting hug while Liam shook her hand.

This afternoon turned out to be more fulfilling than she thought it was going to be.

She had some useful information to work with.

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Maria: Sorry, there’s nothing on his father’s death other than it being a car accident. We’ve even got all the records pulled for the coroner's report and the police records. All points to a car accident. I sent you the photos too.

Natasha sighed frustratedly as she threw her phone next to her on the couch.

Fuck, she thought. How could that be? It was evident that within the inner circle, that wasn’t how the man died.

Why could they pull nothing?

She supposed she wouldn’t find out unless she got into the inner circle.

On the bright side, Natasha managed to find who William was talking to at the café by hacking into the street cameras to find the photos of them.

It was a rather rugged-looking man, definitely not someone who belongs in the affluent circle. She had sent the photos off to see what they could come up with when she got back from lunch that day.

Her phone dinged again, this time with information sent to her.

The man’s name was Emilio Vartez. Nothing out of the usual other than petty crimes, but the fact that William was associating himself with someone like that was already telling.

She needed to see if she could find this Emilio Vartez.

Her phone dinged again, but this time to remind her that she needed to stop by The Cain estates. She had scheduled her meeting with William today, and it would be a chance to drop off David’s invitations as well.

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“I’m so sorry, Miss Rovinski. Mr. Cain had a sudden work emergency that just came up. He had to leave right away. I’m not too sure when he’ll be back, but he will be reaching back out to you to reschedule.”

William’s assistant was near bowing at Natasha who had simply raised her hand to show it was a no big deal.

“That’s fine,” Natasha told the assistant to stop her from apologizing. “Actually is the soon-to-be Mrs. Cain here? I need to drop off an invitation.”

The assistant actually looked hesitant to tell Natasha where you were, but it was like she reminded herself that you were now public.

“Oh, yes,” the assistant coughed after a moment. “She’s in her art studio. It’s on the second level, the farthest room in the back. I’m sorry, I would walk you, but I really have to meet up with one of the campaign managers right now.”

Natasha shook her head, “That’s fine, really. I’m sure I will find her. If not, I’ll play Marco-Polo with her.”

The assistant let out a burst of loud laughter that made Natasha internally jump.

The assistant laughed the entire way out, and Natasha stood there blinking until she was gone.

After that, Natasha followed the assistant’s directions. She would’ve taken longer to snoop around, but since she already knew she wouldn’t find anything, she went straight to her destination.

Natasha could see you through the clear window on the door. The studio was large in size, blank canvases and easels lined up on one side. You had your back turned to Natasha in a large men’s dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up in front of a canvas, various paint tubes everywhere.

Natasha entered the room quietly, just observing you. You head was tilted with your thumb in the middle of the canvas, your paintbrush delicately held between your lips.

“What are you drawing?”

You jumped as you turned around, paintbrush falling from your mouth. The brush rolled until it hit Natasha’s foot.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Natasha said as she picked up the brush to hand it to you.

You had your hair in a bun, strands have fallen out. Demurely, you brushed a strand behind your ear as you regarded Natasha.

“I’m here to give you an invitation to the King’s party next week.”

“I suppose David didn’t want to see William?” You asked with a little mirth in your tone that made Natasha quirk her lips.

“You know about David’s...feelings?”

“He doesn’t exactly keep it a secret,” you say, delicately opening the envelope.

“It doesn’t bother you that he feels that way about your husband?”

You merely smiled lopsidedly.

“My fiancé,” you corrected subtly, “is a politician.”

That’s all you said to explain, but Natasha understood the unsaid words. She eyed your canvas again and looked at your prep work.

“Watercolor?”

To her surprise, a light blush dusted your cheeks.

“It’s my favorite,” you quietly admitted.

“Why?” Natasha pried.

You looked at your easel, the faint pencil sketches on your canvas.

“I like that it’s transparent,” you said so faintly that Natasha almost didn’t catch it.

Suddenly, you turned back to face Natasha, eyeing her.

“Do you like the color black?” You asked as you caught onto her black cashmere turtleneck.

“I do,” Natasha admitted.

“Would you like to hear something interesting about it?” You were looking at Natasha so calmly, it was bringing something out in her.

“Yes.”

“People think that the color black only symbolizes unhappiness, grief, and misery, but studies show that people who are powerful wear the color black--lawyers, judges, Steve Jobs.”

Natasha laughed a little at the last one.

“Want to hear more?” You said, smiling as Natasha nodded.

“They say people who like the color black are mysterious and like to keep a certain boundary between them and the outside world.”

Natasha tilted her head. “Do you think that of me?”

“I believe only time will let me know.”

You stood up, walking by Natasha before she reached out and grabbed your wrist softly. The action seemed to surprise you as your arm pressed against the sleeve of her shirt.

“Do you like the color green?” Natasha asked as you had shades of green painted across your arm.

“At the moment, yes,” you replied.

“Would you like to know something interesting about it?” Natasha asked, repeating you. You smiled in response.

“Doctors use the color green to help relieve the fatigue in their eyes from the blood during operations, it helps them focus on examining wounds in better detail.”

You tilted your head at the fact, intrigued.

“Want to hear more?” Natasha asked, smiling herself when you nodded.

“They say kind, loyal, and compassionate people pick green as their favorite color.”

You swallowed at the words, overwhelmed by it, but Natasha could tell you were grateful nonetheless. When she released your wrist, your eyes were drawn to the streak of green smudged on her sweater.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, let me get that fo--”

“It’s alright,” Natasha interrupted you, looking at the splash of color on her sleeve. “I think your green goes well against my black.”

When she looked up, you swallowed deeply at her emerald eyes that just peered into you. Natasha was already walking towards the door before she looked back at you, bidding you goodbye for now with a definitive voice.

“I’ll see you soon.”

When Natasha walked out the front door, she clenched her jaw.

It was only a second, but it made all the difference to Natasha.

You had jumped before she spoke.

You weren’t surprised--or scared.

You expected her to be there.

PART III

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judeloski · 4 years

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💀 * [ ella purnell + demi female + she/her ] —— have you met judith ‘jude’ loski? they are a twenty-one year old junior currently studying fine arts. they live on farrow house, and word around campus is that this capricorn is creative + magnetic, as well as contradictory + morbid. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. a skull pattern stained onto fine china, flowers plucked too soon, red wine staining the seam of your lips. [ ooc: pepper. twenty four. she/her & est. ]

ABOUT THE MUN. hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, hey baby, here’s twenty dollars!

hello it is pepper again with my second muse because i have no self control. depending on whether or not i can handle this amount of muses i might drop one but for now i am hype!! i have had jude living rent free in my head for like ??? a year at least, and this is the first time i’ve gotten to play her so i’m living large! the entire inspiration behind her is inspired by my creative writing teacher in uni so this is a shout out to you jen i love you!! okay that is all.

BIO. kidnapping tw, death tw, child neglect tw. holiday candles that smell just like your years as a feral child in the forest!

i was gonna write a nice sexy bio but honestly my brain is offline rn so i don’t think that’s gonna happen, instead, welcome to these sexy bullet points.

judith evianna loski was born approximately two minutes prior to her twin sister juliette elenora loski during a frightful blizzard in londan, england. while judith popped out of her mother kicking and screaming bloody murder from day one, moment one, juliette was a docile baby. she was so sweet and quiet that the doctor’s had to check her breathing more than once. while, of course jude made her presence, and her posession of a working set of lungs and killer set of vocal chords, known to everyone within a ten kilometre radius. let’s just say the loskis knew the difference between their daughters instantly.

which was fine. jude and julie liked being different anyways. where jude was colour coded green, julie was colour coded blue. while julie was always thrilled at the prospect of a new dress or doll, jude was known for covering such gifts in mud or paint until they were utterly recognizable or suitably ruined. where julie was sweet, and quiet, and shy, jude could fill a room with just her presence, could make a friend in a sea of strangers. the fact was, jude always had what julie lacked, and for the most part vice versa. they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and they complimented each other perfectly. and despite their differences, both their parents adored them unconditionally, and equally for the first six years of their lives.

which of course meant the girls were spoiled rotten. how could they not be? damon loski was an english gentleman coming from very old, very lucrative oil money. he ran his business like a hobby and yet the loskis still had more than enough money to buy an island or two, especially considering annette’s status. annette loski was a french photographer, and a talented one at that. her work was desperately sought after and world renowned for it’s beauty, and so in her own right, annette was more than well off. and thus, the twins were more than well off, and even if they couldn’t quite understand the concept of that yet, they definitely understood that they could have whatever they wanted just by asking for it. they understood that wherever they went they were to be accompanied by a nice man or woman who was supposed to keep them safe. and they understood that because of mummy and daddy’s jobs they weren’t allowed to play like the other kids did. but as young as jude and julie were they never truly understood why.

that was until three weeks after the girl’s sixth birthday. jude remembers the whole thing like it was yesterday. it was snowing that day and it was that thick puffy snow that made everything seem quiet, the kind that made it hard to see too far ahead on the path you were trekking. the loski twins had taken advantage of the weather to slip between the fingers of their caretaker for the first time and go to the local park. their escape with thrilling, a game of espionage turned reality and the two girls basked in their victory as they made snow angels and twirled and twirled in the snow. that was the day jude had set out to swing higher than she ever had before and demanded that julie watch. and her sweet sister, as submissive as she was, had never quite learned how to say no to jude. so while jude swung and swung and swung, julie stood and watched her from across the park by herself, eyes wide and innocent as she warmed up her numb fingers with her breath. until she wasn’t. alone that is. jude remembers spotting the woman approaching julie. she remember seeing them talking. she remembers the warm clouds her own breath made, almost in sync with the breaths huffing past her sisters lips, foggy up the air before her eyes and obscuring her view. she remembers julie taking the woman’s hand. she remembers the two of them moving to leave the park. and she will never forget that heart stopping moment of quiet, of confusion and fear as her swing slowly came to a stop. she remembers losing julie in the blur of the snow that day.

eventually the police found jude huddled under a tree a block away, still calling her sister’s name into that eerily quiet snow storm, blue lipped and half frozen to death as she shook like a leaf. jude came out of that experience with phemonia. julie didn’t come out of that experience at all.

well, in all honesty there was no way for the loski’s to know that. after all, they never saw julie again. for all jude knew, her sister could be alive and well, living a new happy life where she had no memory of having a sister. where she had a family that was whole for no reason other than she doesn’t remember it falling apart, and where she loved and was loved in return. it was always so easy to love julie. so honestly, it was entirely possible.

jude would like to believe that was true. even if in that scenario it would undoubtedly mean that jude got the short end of the stick.

you see, after julie’s kidnapping anette and damon’s marriage fell to pieces over the years. the trauma of losing a child can do that to you, you know. during that time, as her parents bond splintered apart at the seams, jude remembers hearing her grandmother tell her mother to keep it together for jude. to stick out out for the child she had left.

her mother left them both in the middle of the night without warning less than a week later. so, jude supposes she wasn’t quite enough to hold things together.

jude might have been comforted by the fact that she still had her father if he could even look her in the eye. the fact was, jude looked exactly like julie and julie and jude were always both told they were dead ringers for their mother. jude was a physical reminder of literally everything her father had lost, and he didn’t take that quite well. suddenly damon’s hobby of a job became his life. anything to not be home with his ghost of a daughter.

now the doom and gloom of all this might make it seem like jude took all this trauma and just got really down in the dumps about it. that would be incorrect. jude took that trauma, buried it very deep and only ever used it to fuel her art but otherwise completely ignored it altogether. there’s a difference. one option requires years of therapy and the other can be dealt with pretty easily with years of denial, even if you’re forced to go to therapy anyways because your twin sister was kidnapped in front of you and that kind of thing generally gets you a ticket to therapy for life. very different.

jude isn’t sure if it was that trauma, her parents name, the fact that the news of her sister’s kidnapping was pretty spread all over europe for about a month, or even unlikely enough her talent that launched her art career, but something did. maybe it was a combination of everything. but either way, jude loski was able to find herself with her own small art gallery opening at the tender age of thirteen. and her success in the art world only grew from their, her art galleries and portfolio growing and growing until the point that jude was able to find herself with a place at holloway. and considering there wasn’t much left for her in england anyways, considering her father barely spoke to her and her mother was gone like the wind, jude decided to go.

and that’s all i got for now, and also i’m tired but if you want to plot give this a like and i will slide into your dms.

HEADCANNONS. *aggressively makes tea*

here is her pinterest board.

do not call her judy,

hates her birthday and hates snow storms understandably. is a big fan of rain though. particularly enjoys thunder storms.

is allergic to bees but is super chill about it. had an allergic reaction when she was fourteen that her dad was too busy on a business call to notice was happening. the nanny ended up being the one to stab her with the epipen.

has pretty bad nightmares and night terrors sometimes and hence generally likes to sleep when the sun is out if she sleeps at all. because of that she tends to seem pretty nocturnal. you can probably catch her at the library in the middle of the night.

loves weird little knicknacks. like voodoo dolls and like shrunken heads or like other weird stuff you find in the corners of antique shops and stuff. her side of her dorm is probably full of them so rip to her roommate.

really loves skulls and other modern kind of contradictory things on fine china. learnt to make the designs herself cause there isn’t nearly enough of them, but she just does it for herself as a hobby like she doesn’t sell them or anything.

learnt to weld on a whim. catch jude in her dorm welding things to make sculptures out of metal.

bisexual as hell theydies.

spent a lot of her teenage years with her godmother but i’m too tired to get into that rn i might add to this later

loves poetry and novels, but likes the flowery shit yk, the stuff that makes you feel something.

is a good student for the most part but is horrible in math and science. sits in on english and classics courses for fun though.

is v english and therefore very particular about her tea.

i do headcannon that julie is fine and okay and just living that finding carter life so if anyone was wondering yeah she’s out there somewhere and alive with a new kidnapper mom yk

a bit witchy. the kind who washes her door in rosemary and sunwater because she believes in that kind of thing and doesn’t understand why people don’t. that said, she doesn’t believe in god even a little bit but she goes to church every sunday anyways just to admire the stained glass and ask very specific questions to spark debate. she also just genuinely likes the vibe of jesus. not god, but jesus, she’s cool with.

unfortunately is a dirty smoker. smokes nicotine and weed. probably vapes.

the type to quote poetry when she’s drunk or high. can be very annoying because she always thinks that she’s like transcended into another world.

i have a feeling in my heart that she’s really bizarre and she was really bizarre as a child after losing julie. big lilo from lilo and stitch vibes yk. just weird and sentimental and lonely.

has a pet rabbit named julius.

doesn’t tend to talk about her dead missing sister so unless you think your muse would know about it she probably wouldn’t tell them i’m ngl

as for personality i have no clue!!! this is my first time playing her so i’m gonna figure it out yk

WANTED CONNECTIONS. I kinda need a hug but I’d rather DIE than let anyone know I am a human being that desperately craves intimacy

CHILDHOOD FRIEND. please. they can be from anywhere okay i will make it work i live for childhood friend connections.

ENEMIES. i mean why not

BEST FRIENDS. again, pls.

CONFIDANTES. someone she trusts, we love to see it

EXES. i have a feeling that jude is one of those ‘i’m gonna leave before you leave me’ kind of people, so she definitely could have self sabotaged this kind of thing

MUSE. self explanatory but consider this: please.

CRUSH. jude has a crush on your muse or vice versa

FAMILY FRIEND. self explanatory, but it could be wild that’s all i’m saying.

and other stuff ofc, but my brain is so tired y’all i have to knock out

#holloway.intro #j.l. | bio.#i am so tired #i am gonna send out some plotting messages tho

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deadbydaylight-blood-moon · 4 years

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Dead by daylight Survivor Oc: Antoine Bonfils

Basic info:

“

It started with flashes of light flashing in the distance, the occasional oddity only peaked when these flashes of light were accompanied with the grunts and roars from the monsters that live in this realm. But it was when the owner of the flashing light showed himself. It surprised me, it wasn’t some aggressive creature looking for a thrill. No it was a simple looking boy. In his hands held a device that even though the main function had stopped working, the ability to stun those that had flashed still worked. And it seemed that this person was going to use that to its full potential.

” ~ unknown

Overview:

Antoine bonfils is a frustrated photographer, using his pent up anger as an edge against the killer, with his perks. Eidetic eye, frustrated motive, and hidden strength. Antoine can give the killer a hard time, while using information gained to get a step ahead.

Basic info:

Name: Antoine Bonfils

Age: 20

Nationality: French

Ethnicity: French/African American

Occupation: photographer/ manager.

Role: frustrated photographer

Chapter: A Teenage Horror

Accompanied killer: the outsider

Physical description:

Height: 5’9 Weight: 238 lbs. Skin color: bronzy brown Hair color: black Piercings: N/A Scars: N/A Tattoos: N/A Clothing: Antoine when taken by the entity, was wearing simple khaki cargo shorts now covered in dirt and blood, with a short sleeve light blue shirt now dingy and worn out along with a darker blue no sleeve jacket. He also has his satchel and camera bag, which the camera is worn on his neck.

Lore:

Loving and caring for everyone around him, Antoine Bonfils was born to an up and coming French artist, and an American tourist. And growing up, Antoine was a shy child, latched to his mother’s leg whenever he had to go to one of his mother’s galleries. This led to him to be distant with other children, as attempts of communication would often lead to him running and crying for his mother. This dependency often was an escape to Antoine's mother who used him to distract herself whenever she and Antoine's father would argue. Soon enough, Antoine's father left, leaving Antoine with a shocked mother.

After the split, Antoine's mother started to drink even more then before his father left, which was one of the reasons he left, which often meant that Antoine had to look after his mother whenever the hangovers would hit. And by the time he was a preteen he was already acting as his mother’s agent and manager, booking her events, setting up galleries, taking care of finances. He did all the background tasks, and because of this all his mother had to do was focus on her art. Which caused her to take off in the art community and soon after she was famous, but this came with more stress on Antoine, due to the fact that now he had also had a spotlight put on him. The meek teen was not used to the pressure and after an accident at a gallery, doctors recommended that he take some time off and find something that would calm his stress levels. Antoine took this to heart and fascinating enough, the hobby that helped him was photography. The boy loved taking photos of everything he could, he mostly liked taking the urban life around his and his mother’s apartments. Soon enough, his stress did decrease, and not too long his work was founded by a large named art critic who praised the boy with his talent. Within months, the boy was the new face in the art community. His gallery brought hundreds of people coming from different parts of the world to his showings, and soon the boy was once again in the spotlight. But in this instance, he was enjoying it. He felt proud of his work that he did himself.

However his mother started to resent her son for taking the focus away from her. She started to whisper things into his ear to try to discourage him, in spite of this Antoine continued to rise in popularity. Along with this, the amount of arguments Antoine had with his mother also grew. To the point that one day, in a haste Antoine stormed out of the apartment, accusing his mother of not wanting what was best for him. And as Antoine prowled the streets of France looking for new material as well as hiding from paparazzi he wandered deeper into France's maze like alleyways. Walking he soon was covered into a cloud of warm smoke, disappearing into it never to come out from the other side. Now he runs with the other survivors, but as long as he has his camera he promised to himself that he would get out of this nightmare.

Game mechanics:

Perk 1: eidetic eye “You are use to spotting this with a hopeful eye and a lasting memory now you will use it to escape” auras of items such as: chest, dropped items, vaults, and pallet as well as hooks and the basement will appear to you for 10/15/20 seconds before disappear but will reappear if said item is in 25/35/45 meter radius around you. Perk 2: frustrated motive “ your frustrations about the situation at hand gives you something to fight for, you have independence and agency in your hand, you're not letting it go now.” every time you unhook an ally or leave a killer chase you gain a stack, you can lose stacks by getting hit and being hooked. you can have up to 3/4/5 stacks of frustrated motives. With each stack you gain a bonus in a certain actions: 1 stack gives you a 2/5/10 percent speed increase, at 2 stacks give you a 2/4/6 percent bonus on good and perfect skill checks, at 3 stacks vaulting and unhooking speeds get a 3/6/9 percent increase, at 4 stacks you leave moderately less scratch marks, at 5 stacks your aura is hidden from the killer and is shown to your allies permanently until you loss stacks. “ tu dois te lever maintenant!” - Antoine Perk 3: hidden strength “People can’t see the strength you have, but you’ll show them when the time comes” Stunning a killer grand stacks, can gain up to 3 stacks, depending on the stack by pressing the action button you waste a stack but gives speed increases of 20/25/45 percent to things like vault time and throwing down pallets.

Other: Antoine’s camera: The entity had given Antoine his most precious item: his camera. Antoine’s camera can only be found in Antoine's blood web and works similarly to the flashlight. but instead of channeling in a straight cone. Antoine’s camera works in a sudden one time flash in a cone shape. instablinds the killer however the blind duration is tremendously less then a flashlight and can be increased with addons. instead of percent Antoine's camera works with charges. The base amount of charge Antoine's camera has is three. The amount of charges is dependent on the type of addon you can put on the camera. Antoine’s camera uses up flashlight addons. This is covered by an increased amount of flashlight addons in Antoine's bloodweb only. Batteries: instead of seconds, they add charges. Brown = 1 charge, yellow = 2 charges, green = 3 charges

#Antoine Bonfils #oc survivor #dbd oc #dead by daylight oc #A teenage horror #the outsider

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precuredaily · 5 years

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Precure Day 158

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 10 - “Save Nuts from Starvation!” Date watched: 13 November 2019 Original air date: 8 April 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/L8xVIxB Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

“Nuts hasn’t eaten in two days, Coco!”

“Look, we all have different life experiences-coco. That’s what makes us each special and unique-coco. So forgive me for not knowing that two days is APPARENTLY a long time to not eat food-coco!”

We’ve established Natts House as a base of operations and a store, we’ve got a school journalist with a very questionable sense of ethics and integrity with the hots for Nuts, and now we have a store in desperate need of some business. Time to put the pieces together!

The Plot

Nuts is starving because his shop isn’t getting any business, so the girls try to figure out how to advertise for him. Karen reminds them that they aren’t allowed to bring jewelry to school, meaning they’ll have to work indirectly. Nozomi and Rin try to get Mika to run ads for the shop in the school newspaper, but she insists that this would violate her journalistic integrity. Komachi tries to talk to random girls at school and tell them about the store, but they aren’t very receptive to her. Karen gushes to the student council after a meeting but they seem taken aback by her unusual enthusiasm. Urara even tries wearing a necklace while making an appearance on a local variety show. Unfortunately, she’s just a face in the crowd, and doesn’t appear for long.

for once, “spot the main character” is actually difficult

Having all failed spectacularly, they decide to fall back on the classic approach: handing out fliers! They collectively design one, get a Pinky to duplicate them (I guess it’s cheaper than a photocopier), and hit the streets to hand them out. Nozomi gives one to a man that turns out to be Gamao, who is upset that the girls defeated him and (in his mind) kept him from getting a paycheck, which would have allowed him to buy food. In his anger, he decides to suck all the girls into a chasm in the ground and try to defeat them, whether in an attempt at petty revenge for his own poor life choices, or to try to get the Dream Collet and return to Nightmare. He turns his coin purse into a Kowaina and throws them around a little bit himself, but Urara seriously scolds him for blaming his faults on them, rather than himself. After all, both he and Nuts are in a position where they can’t afford food, but Nuts is actually taking action while Gamao is moping around and shifting blame. Rouge and Aqua defeat the Kowaina while Dream handles the toady bastard.

They escape the chasm and return to handing out fliers. Masuko Mika happens to be passing through the square and absentmindedly takes a flier from Nuts, doing a double take as she recognizes him as the mysterious hottie she devoted the paper to. Next thing we see, Natts House is flooded with students from L’ecole Cinq Lumieres and Nozomi and Rin are talking with Mika about her apparent change of heart. She insists that she isn’t promoting Natts House, she’s reporting on important news to the community. Rin snarks that she’s just fangirling, but regardless, Nuts is making money and he genuinely smiles as the episode closes out.

The Analysis

In the first place, I like the continued world-building in this episode. Natts House doesn’t magically attract customers simply by existing, so they have to advertise for it. It’s a little lesson in business for the audience, and it also makes room for a lesson about the value of Hard Work (and Guts). On the one hand, you have Gamao, who failed at his job, ran away instead of telling his boss that he failed, and as a result, has not been paid and cannot eat. Instead of trying to find another job, he mopes around and blames the girls for his failure. On the other side, you have Nuts, who works with the girls to find customers for his store in order to afford food. I don’t agree with his attitude towards charity, but he’s always been stubborn. You also get to continue Mika’s little story arc from the previous episode, where she claims journalistic integrity but basically just runs a tabloid. Fortunately, her infatuation with Nuts works for the girls’ benefit again, essentially advertising Natts House by reporting on its owner and his place of work. The contrast between her words and actions makes for a fun source of ironic humor.

We also get to see a new side of Urara here. She is almost scary in her conviction to the need for advertising. All the other girls are taken aback by her abrupt change in personality.

Being an actress, who not only has to market herself as a product, but also markets products for other people, it makes sense that she is the most attuned to the importance of advertising. We see this aggressive sincerity again during the fight with Gamao when she scolds him for being lazy, contrasting what he and Nuts have done to alleviate their hunger. She is righteously indignant, and it’s wonderful to see this normally aloof girl take a firm stance. I don’t mean to suggest that her morals have ever been in question, as we saw her strong will in action from her first transformation, but her typical behavior is a bit more quirky and less aggressive than this.

In a related case, this episode has some fantastic facial expressions and reactions from most of the cast. Here’s the group’s reaction to Urara’s sternness:

Karen telling Nozomi that no, she cannot bring even just a few accessories to school to showcase:

The girls’ reaction after Urara’s TV appearance turns out to be miniscule:

Mika declaring she will NEVER allow advertising in her paper:

Mika recognizing Nuts:

And Nozomi and Rin recognizing Nuts in Mika’s paper:

There are a lot of good moments though, and I can’t bog down this post with ALL of them, so check out the gallery link at the top of the post for a better rundown.

This episode also gives us a merchandising opportunity! Nozomi completes work on the flier, but Rin points out that they can’t hand out a single flier, and Nuts and Coco drop two huge stacks of paper in front of her for her to draw on. Her reaction to being told she has to make a few hundred copies by hand is......

in a word, exploitable (feel free to save this and use it as a reaction gif)

However, it turns out that one of the Pinkies they’ve caught can, as Nuts put it, “Call in customers” in such ways as being a photocopier. This involves the very detailed and well-animated process of pulling a Pinkie card out of the storage case, inserting it into the Dream Collet and pulling it out, with accompanying lights and sounds.

It’s a pretty transparent toy plug, and you really kinda wonder how the girls don’t have access to a photocopier anywhere. I mean sure, maybe not IMMEDIATE access, but it would have taken less time to find one and make 500-1000 copies than for Nozomi to hand-draw them all. Oh well, toys.

This is a really good episode in a lot of ways, and even the brief pause to advertise the Dream Collet toy in the middle isn’t that intrusive. We get to see these girls just.... exist, and interact, and it’s fun. I forgot how much I enjoyed this part of the series because it’s been so long since I watched it, and all I really remember in detail are the episode where Urara hosts a stage show at an amusement park, Milk’s introduction, the mid-season climax, and the Christmas episode because I watched it last year. I really enjoy the little episodes that dive into the characters’ lives a little bit and show us how the world works, and they also take the time to give a lesson on personal responsibility and drive without making it too ham-fisted. Side note, since Gamao's last appearance was in episode 3, he hasn’t fought the full assembled team, and he’s surprised that there are five girls now. Also, since he did only appear the one time, Rin barely remembers him, as she turns to Urara to ask who he is. It’s an amusing moment that sells how terrible he’s been at his job so far.

This episode could have been preachy and hamfisted, but they deftly balance all the necessary elements, inject just the right amount of comedy into it, and make good use of their animation tools. It’s solid art and animation for Precure, with some wonderful facial expressions and no noodle people. Even Nuts, eternally the tsundere, cracks a few genuine smiles in this episode. It gives me the warm fuzzies inside. The next one, however, is even better. Next time, on Precure Daily, Nozomi and Coco’s hot air balloon ride. You know the one. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 Kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! PreCure 5 #YPC510 #PCD158

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housebeleren · 4 years

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Random Commander Challenge: Medomai the Ageless

I’m a little behind on these, but catching up fast. For the month of November, my random Commander deck challenge landed on a Legend I had thought about making before, but decided against in favor of some other, newer goodies. The first Commander to pop up was Medomai the Ageless, from Theros. Somehow, after 4 months of Legendary Creatures that had all been printed within the last couple of years, I got one (slightly) older.

White-Blue is completely in my wheelhouse, so the real challenge here was going to be how to make this one feel distinct and have its own voice and feel.

Art: David Palumbo

Theme

Medomai is part of a grand tradition of White-Blue sphinxes in Magic. Hell, the very shorthand by which we name color combination is Azorius, named after a Legendary White-Blue sphinx. And while many of these sphinxes share elements in common, I took it as my challenge here to figure out what makes Medomai unique. So essentially, how do I not just make an Azorius deck, in the actual sense of the guild name? In other words, how do I make this deck so it doesn’t feel like it could just as easily have been led by Azor or Isperia.

My second challenge was how do I make this not just “extra turn tribal”?

(As an aside, I am actually a big fan of extra turns in EDH, provided you execute on them quickly and without tons of useless deliberation. Nobody wants to watch you play masturbatory Magic. If you’re going to take extra turns, either have a win prepared or plan what you intend to accomplish in those turns.)

But yes, I’ve seen Medomai decks before where people just throw every card they own that says “extra turn” on it into a pile, and literally nobody wants to play with or against that. So I decided to not include any other cards that can generate extra turns, and instead capture the feel of time travel through other means, which I’ll get to below. That said, I can’t ignore the power of his ability, so the deck has ways to generate value off of extra turns, and ways to get more utility out of him.

The real thing that makes Medomai different from so many other Legendary Sphinxes is that his ability triggers off of combat damage. So this deck needs to be at least medium aggressive and have ways to push damage through. So that’s the jumping off point I used. The deck is designed to with with creatures who have combat damage triggers, with some wins centered around his turns.

This being Theros, I also decided to include some of the gods. Thassa is great in the deck and can help get attackers through, while Ephara is steady card advantage in a creature deck, and also suggested a minor flicker sub-theme.

Card Groups

Combat Triggers - The first thing I looked for were more cards that had good combat triggers, either on attack or hit. Both Frost Titan and Sun Titan seemed good. Augury Adept and Daxos of Meletis are both great early drops that stay relevant late if you can get them through. I also really liked Dragonlord Ojutai and Broodbirth Viper, though they’re on the costlier side of the spectrum. The final touch was Bident of Thassa, which is super flavorful and a massive source of card draw.

Combat Helpers - Next, you need some ways to get things through as the board clutters up. I already mentioned Thassa, who’s an all-star here, and Rogue’s Passage does a passable imitation if she gets removed. Blustersquall and Thoughtweft Gambit are good for one-time swings, and the deck also really loves Venser, the Soujourner, as he plays nicely with both the flicker and combat damage themes. Lastly, I added Archetype of Imagination, which is great for the endgame.

Medomai Enablers - Medomai is a 6 drop that needs to attack to work, so protection and Haste are essential. Boots and Greaves are musts, and I also included Gift of Immortality as a flavorful bit of protection. There are also some good ways to get bonus triggers out of him, even though he can’t attack on extra turns. Silverblade Paladin will get him 2 hits when soulbound, and Strionic Resonator is a Medomai staple for a reason. Both go in, and you can include some similar pieces like Duelist’s Heritage if you’d like more.

Flicker - This is more of a sub-theme, but it stemmed from wanting to include Ephara in the deck. Sun and Frost Titans already work here, as does Venser. Deadeye Navigator is obviously great. This is also a great place to include some recursion, a la Karmic Guide & Reveillark, plus some much needed ramp for white with Solemn Simulacrum & Boreas Charger.

Control - White/Blue needs some control, so the trick here is to not include cards like Render Silent or Absorb, which feel Azorius. Instead, Swan Song, Dissolve, Cryptic Command, and Rewind feel much more in line with how Medomai works. Curse of the Swine is one of my favorite control spells that is nicely Theros flavored. I did include Supreme Verdict, as it’s hard to escape how good that one is, and a couple more general boardwipes and spot removal of your choice do the trick.

Card Draw - Some good sphinx-like card draw such as Ponder, Preordain, and Brainstorm always fit right in. I know Sphinx’s Revelation is technically Azorius flavored, but I think it works well here too. And in the vein of “time travel”, I included some Blue wheels, such as Time Reversal, Day’s Undoing, and Echo of Eons, which are also good disruption against tutors and graveyard decks.

That’s a lot already, but also don’t forget you need lots of ramp for a deck like this. I would recommend 8-10 mana rocks or sources that can find you lands, like Boreas Charger & Solemn Simulacrum.

Win Conditions & Lines of Play

Identity Thief - The big frustration with Medomai is his restriction that he can’t attack on extra turns. Well, this nifty little shapeshifter gets around that by being able to declare as an attacker first before transforming. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But Medomai comes back into play while Identity Thief is still a copy, so you have to sacrifice it at end of turn!” TRUE. Identity Thief is not a one-card combo with Medomai (and to the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any.) However, there are ways around this. Mirror Gallery is an option, but it’s a completely dead card if you don’t have both pieces, so I opted out. But you can also use some recursion like Karmic/Deadeye to easily bring back the Identity Thief for extra attacks. It’s janky, but the pieces are all good individually. So Identity Thief is effectively a Time Warp that’s easier to reuse. Sometimes it’ll just be the one extra turn, but occasionally it’ll outright win you the game.

Approach of the Second Sun - This may seem like a strange inclusion, but I thought it was appropriate, given that Medomai plus just a little draw power can easily get it cast twice. It’s an unexpected way to pull off a win that a lot of decks can’t deal with.

Flicker - Deadeye Navigator allows for some ridiculous value, particularly when paired with cards like Archaomancer & Mnemonic Wall, both of which I included. Once the late-game hits, this lets you buy back counters and removal and basically shut down the game. It’s kinda dickish, but it works.

Beat Face - You have some heavy hitters in this deck. Even just using Medomai as a White/Blue Aurelia to get extra combats is totally a viable option. You can keep your board protected with your counterspells, and get 2-3 attacks each time around the table. Most of the time, this is how you’ll win the game. It’s unfancy, but totally reasonable.

Conclusion

So I admit, I did struggle with this deck a little bit. I think the concept was right, but I got a little unfocused. I unwisely included both Teferi, Time Raveler and Narset, Parter of Veils in the build, which ended up just feeling like dick moves. If I could do it over, I’d replace those with just pure card draw spells or utility creatures, since they felt more like the asshole control I was trying to avoid. And I had some one-off cards that just didn’t feel like they did enough. I also might have cut the Archaeomancer/Mnemonic Wall loops, for the same reason.

That said, the deck did work. I only got a chance to play 3 games with it, but of those I won 2 and we had a draw for the 3rd (though I honestly was not going to win that one). And truly, the way the deck won was just through attacks and extra combats. It played kinda like a White/Blue version of an Aurelia deck, and I really liked that about it. Not my favorite White/Blue commander I’ve ever built (That honor goes to Taigam), but still reasonably enjoyable and a nice way to approach the color pair from somewhat of a different angle.

The budget was actually pretty reasonable here as well. I did need to get another copy of Thassa for the deck, which isn’t cheap, but almost everything else I already had or was inexpensive. I think I went just a touch over my $25 target for cards I didn’t already have. It should be possible to build a version of this deck for under $100 and still include everything you need, if you’re going combat focused like I did, and not extra turn tribal.

For December, I got another Jund dragon, Darigaaz Reincarnated, so my next challenge is building that and having it feel different from Vaevictis Asmadi (Shouldn’t be too difficult... they’re radically distinct mechanically). Should be fun!

#MtG #edh

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anhed-nia · 6 years

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BLOGTOBER 10/24/2018: HEREDITARY

I am not ready to talk about HEREDITARY. I tried it when it came out in June, and while I think I hit all the points that were important for mass audiences, I wasn’t really ready then either, to say what I wanted to say. It isn’t because it’s so unusually beautiful, which it is. It isn’t because it’s “the scariest movie ever made”, which it is not, although it intermittently reaches seldom-seen heights of horror. It also isn’t because, contrary to popular belief, it is deeply flawed, with certain understandable markers of being someone’s first feature. It is because it feels so profoundly personal to me, even while I know that this is a not-uncommon reaction to Ari Aster’s breakout debut. It doesn’t make me special that I would take this film about grief, guilt, mental illness, genetic disorder, and irresolvable family friction so personally, but as usual, I have something I need to say about it. My experience with the movie tells me something, not about why we need HEREDITARY, but why we need art.

(spoilers abound)

This story, about a woman who recently lost her seriously disturbed mother, and who subsequently loses her also-disturbed daughter to a car wreck caused by her teenage son, has been accused of emotional exploitation by some. HEREDITARY is aggressively harrowing, with interminably protracted suspense, teasingly dense shadows, and a constant unnatural drone that characterizes everything you see, however mundane, as malignantly abnormal. Most audiences may accept this kind of brutality when it is buffered by a fantastical metaphor, as with an EXORCIST or a SHINING. You can scare someone half to death, as long as you reassure them that whatever they’ve seen probably isn’t going to happen to them, even if it reminds them of something that did, or could. If you just make people feel bad, however, they may turn on you. This is Ari Aster’s big mistake, if you want to call it that; I know parents who refuse to watch the movie, due to its infamous scene of violence against a child. It’s easy to see why any reasonable person might want to opt out of this unusually shocking scene, in which young Milly Shapiro is accidentally decapitated while her teenage brother races her to the hospital, after having neglectfully caused her need for a hospital trip in the first place. But, I think it also calls into question the place for and purpose of the artist’s contract with the audience. This concept usually refers to the unspoken promise that a filmmaker makes to his viewers, that whatever happens in the movie, even if it is confrontational, will fall within the bounds of what the viewers basically expect when they buy their tickets. It means something like, when a family-oriented entertainment producer like Disney adapts a Grimm Brothers fairy tale, the audience won’t have to see the huntsman eviscerate an animal to get his ersatz proof that he has killed Snow White, and they won’t have to see Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters mutilate their own feet to try to fit the glass slipper. Part of the problem many people have with HEREDITARY is that Ari Aster’s contract with his audience is a little unclear. It blends psychodrama about irresolvable family issues that can hit way too close to the literal home for any ordinary person, with the unthinkable but entirely doable desecration of the human body, with outrageous supernatural horrors that, while scary as hell, can seem preposterous in light of the more terrestrial torments that have gone before.

To try to be more succinct, which is difficult with such a complex film, my own problem with HEREDITARY is that it contains metaphors for real-world elements that are already in the movie. To go back to the example of THE EXORCIST: Regan’s transformation from an innocent child into a vile self-abusing demon serves as a ready metaphor for puberty, mental illness, addiction, and really anything that turns your loved one into someone you no longer recognize. Writer Peter Blatty sets this up beautifully by using banal troubles like drafts in the house or parental antagonism as agents that weaken Regan’s defenses against the forces of darkness, just as they can weaken the average person’s defenses against depression or alcoholism--the things that warp them away from their best, or at least, most socially acceptable self. HEREDITARY gets itself into a sticky spot by giving Toni Collete a family history of emotional and physical violence, schizo-affective disorder, alienation, and neglect that is as convincing as can be, and then throwing a comparatively flimsy (however great-looking) metaphorical tarp over all that in the form of witchcraft and demonic possession. A similar problem occurs in Boots Riley’s otherwise excellent SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, where he stages the action in a world--our world, however surreally dressed up--that turns on an axis of slave labor, and then he concludes his story with an outsized metaphor for slave labor. I wouldn’t really kick anything in either of these movies out of bed, at the end of the day; I’m just saying that it gets a little awkward when you craft this grandiose metaphor for a legitimately terrifying real-world thing, while that thing happens to be standing right there in the room with the metaphor.

Anyway. It is interesting to note that while the movie seems to have hurt a lot of people’s feelings based on their own contemporary reality, its spiritual DNA has been active for hundreds of years. Witchery has been a handy metaphor for, or even out-and-out "explanation” for, mental illness in women throughout history. (Ok, so it’s been an excuse for LOTS of things that have happened to or around women throughout history, but I only have so much space!) In HEREDITARY, Toni Collette describes her recently deceased mother as being extraordinarily private, having “private rituals” and even “private friends”, which we soon realize were signs of her being a devil worshiper. However, in some ways, mother and daughter are not so different. Where the mother practiced dark arts, Collette is a successful gallery artist. Her hyperreal dioramas seem like metaphorical expressions of her feelings toward her insane and abusive parent, but as we find out along the way, they are entirely realistic descriptions of actual things that have actually happened in her life--including the notorious car crash, but also things like the mother trying to force her breast on her infant granddaughter, which we later learn was part of an effort to implant Milly Shaprio with a demon. Shapiro, who inhabits a Baba Yaga-like treehouse in the yard, is also an artist, crafting twisted-looking dolls out of refuse and carrion, and like her mother, she also has unwitting witchy inclinations, perceiving grim specters and ill omens all around. Notably, no one outside the maternal bloodline perceive these things, and it seems that male members only perceive them when being supernaturally attacked. While Toni Collete and Milly Shapiro both use handcrafted art to process the trauma handed down to them by their maternal ancestor, all three women participate (knowingly or otherwise) in an ancient artistic tradition that, for some, amounts to a legitimate religion--but for many others, especially in the modern world, it is a way of dealing with feelings of impotence and subjugation. A sense of disappointment, worthlessness, and damnation plagues the women at the center of HEREDITARY, whether it involves Toni Collette’s complaint that her family blames her for all of their misfortunes, or her accusing her teenage son Alex Wolff of failing to acknowledge his responsibility for his sister’s death, or his sister ominously remarking that her grandmother’s doting attitude disguised the matriarch’s attempts to control or deform her--”She wanted me to be a boy,” Shapiro mutters, and we’ll find out she specifically wanted the child to be a boy vessel for a boy demon (about which, more later). HEREDITARY depicts a family out of control, who cannot escape the fate that has been devised for them, but who have adopted some interesting, literally artful means of trying to synthesize feelings of power.

HEREDITARY begins to fall apart, not as much because of its indecisive attitude toward fantasy and realism, as because of its last act left turn away from its heretofore cogent discussion of the disenfranchisement of women, and the guilt women live with when they fall short of their clan’s desires for strong sons, good little girls, or perfect mothers who serve their people instead of serving themselves. Make no mistake: Alex Wolff, who delivers an above-and-beyond performance as an average young man who is alienated by his freak sister and unstable mother, is always at the center of the film. The guilt he acquires from being an unwilling murderer is as potent as anything I think I’ve ever seen in a movie. So, it isn’t that this male experience of disappointing your family, and also feeling victimized by their very existence, is absent from the first leg of the story. It’s that when the film finally tries to make sense of itself, by revealing that Toni Collette’s mother intended to offer one of her male progeny as a vessel for a masculine entity that would bring her great wealth...well, it sort of flies in the face of the psychological depths we’ve plumbed up to that point. For one thing, the movie’s title suggests a singular focus on the intergenerational passing-down of trauma and blame, and the collection of damaged women to whom we’re immediately introduced are obvious experts in this matter. It doesn’t quite work when the story vacillates between sympathizing with these doomed females, and then sympathizing with a young man’s fear and loathing of adult women, who he perceives as irrational and castrating. And how is it possible that the profound mystery surrounding the family’s progressive ruin is rooted in something as shallow as money? I tried to develop a theory that it works as the final insult of any familial loss--that death is incredibly expensive to manage, and inheritance can be just burdensome as it is a blessing--but I don’t know, there’s not enough on the table for me to make a meal out of.

Setting aside the idea of sacrificing your son to a money demon, though, one can say that even if HEREDITARY is a little unsteady in its construction, the individual components are solid. And here I don’t just mean compelling, but also, real. This is the reason I people are so bothered by HEREDITARY--that it tells the truth in a much more direct manner than most audiences expect of a supernatural horror film. While that may be an unwelcome experience, it may be more helpful to think of this unpleasantness as a gift that art can give us. This kind of nasty confrontation with trauma is important for an individual’s personal development, integrity, and self-knowledge. The more demandingly exhibitionistic a movie is, the better chance we have to untangle ourselves from the billowing curtain of metaphor and anthropological generality, and to be purified by the excoriating light of realism--not the artistic genre, but actual contact with reality.

Here we find my own big reveal, my left turn away from what my previous paragraphs have led you to expect. Let me tell you about my mother. My mother was an enormously popular person. Extremely sharp, funny, fashionable, cultured--all things that help keep one’s private persona in the shadows. A prolific artist, she created hyperreal paintings and drawings from miniatures, like toys and model train props, that represented an exaggerated simulation of reality. Much of her work was about female pageantry, social expectations of women, or the chintzy objects that littered the lives of 1950s and 60s housewives, like kitschy bric-a-brac and tawdry paperbacks. People absolutely loved her for her taste, her humor, her ability to express herself. She did not like me. This was so true that, even without a history of physical abuse, that her peers sometimes say things to me that reveal their awareness of the facts of our relationship, or lack thereof. I hear things like, “Your mother loved you, you know!”, in a tone of voice that suggests that they know this would be late breaking news, without ever having asked me how I feel or what I think. From the earliest age, I seemed to refuse to meet the expectations people have of their children: I hated to be touched, I cried endlessly, I quaked with anxiety and a nameless guilt day and night, I burned with an aimless anger. I could draw, and did so compulsively, but nothing nice or bright. I was acutely aware of sexuality, violence, vanity, and shame. I was no fun whatsoever. Later in life--very recently in life, actually--I discovered that I have two important, inherent qualities: One, that I have a genetic inability to process copper properly, a mineral that is psychoactive and can make you pretty unhinged in large quantities. Two, that I suffer from a form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, a range of mental conditions that have been historically ignored in women, largely because of misogynist prejudices that society holds about essentially-female dysfunctionality. Unfortunately for me, my mother died when I was a teenager, almost two decades before I would find out these things that might have made her more tolerant of me.

Fortunately, I guess, I think I know why my mother took such an exception to me, and it isn’t all about me. It’s about her mother. My maternal grandmother was also an artist of sorts, but more in terms of artifice. I haven’t decided whether it is fair for me to spill all of the details of a story that belongs to more people than myself, but I will go so far as to say that my maternal great-grandparents meted out trauma and shame in a manner that my grandmother allowed to contribute to her painful estrangement from her sister. For my purposes, what it really did was teach my mother that darkness--any kind of darkness, even darkness that belongs to you and you alone, that you have a right to, that should be yours to process as you see fit--is inappropriate. It is just as inappropriate in adults as it is in children, which she would see very clearly in her mother’s strict orchestration of their household into an unimpeachably pure, Rockwellian model of what an American family should be like. While my mother found her way into the revolutionary world of hippie rebellion and art-making, she never let go of her prohibition against sadness and rage, even in her own child, and I suffered from it until she suddenly, rapidly and gruesomely died of lung cancer when I was barely old enough to drive. Afterward, her mother obsessed over me in a way that was simultaneously scathingly intense and unmistakably impersonal. I looked like my mother, and my grandmother’s identity was rooted entirely in dominating a family, so she couldn’t do without me. I couldn’t let her know anything about myself; my feelings about horror, pornography, death taboos, sexual identity, and media that is out to hurt you, are what make up all that I am, and are the opposite of everything she believes in. With that weight on my back, I had to pretend that we had this archetypal American familial intimacy, even when I didn’t have it with my own mother, even when I hated being touched, even when I hadn’t learned how to receive affection. Early this year, she died at 90 years old from a misdiagnosed colon condition. As my family rushed to her side to say goodbye, we discovered that her shadowy sister had pushed her doctors into lifesaving measures that would have extended her existence into something so horrific that it would have stood up to the ugliest scenes from JACOB’S LADDER, had she not miraculously died before regaining consciousness. As perversely relieving as that was, my ears ring with the sound of her last phone call to me. Intended to be a heartfelt goodbye, it devolved quickly into the woman, completely possessed of her mental faculties, absolutely screaming for her life. It was a sound as chilling as anything from any of the sadistic movies I love so well, and I really heard it, in my real life.

This all would be enough to make me talk the way that I do, but it isn’t all. Recently, my father revealed to me some details of my mother’s struggle with cancer that I had never heard before. Although my mother had been told to go straight home and make her peace upon diagnosis, she and my father plunged full bore into magical thinking. They experimented with hypnosis, acupuncture, reiki, anything that might activate my mother’s internal ability to heal herself. Soon they found themselves in the office of a charismatic self-help guru-type in a neighboring city. Incidentally, this person is now at the center of an increasingly bizarre trial that is slated to begin this January, due to her authoritative involvement with a Scientology-like cult that allegedly maintains a secret inner circle of brand-wielding sex slavers. But anyway, back to my little memoir: It isn’t clear to me what she claimed was the scope of her powers exactly, but I know that she specialized in a form of “healing” that involved hypnosis and carefully selected words, I suppose not unlike a magical incantation. She said to my mother: “I am going to heal you.” The reason she said this so forcefully, was that my mother was the physical double of a previous client of hers; a client who died from the same specific form of lung cancer that plagued my mother; and who lived in the house we had moved into, only months before my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. That woman died, we moved into her house, and by pure coincidence, my subsequently sick mother found herself in the office of the self-styled healer who had treated the previous owner of our new home for the very same illness. “God has given me a second chance,” the healer said, “and I am going to heal you.” My mother saw her for several months, until one day she arrived to find a third woman in the office. Astoundingly, the healer described the young coed as having supernatural gifts. The two instantly began terrorizing my mother, screaming at her and cursing her. My mother, sobbing hysterically, begged to know, “Why are you yelling at me?” and they replied, “WE’RE NOT YELLING AT YOU, WE’RE YELLING AT THE CANCER!” When he told the story, of course, my father accidentally said “demon”, not “cancer”, but in any case, they were trying to exorcize her. My mother never went back, and, some might remark, she died.

Naturally, I wanted to tell this story to anyone who would listen to me, as soon as I had heard it. It was one of the weirdest things I had ever heard, and it happened to my family. While some people’s jaw dropped in exactly the way mine had originally, I received some unexpected feedback, too. On some occasions, a dear friend would pause at the end of my story, make a calculated “surprise” sound, and then, very gently, explain to me that coincidences exist, self-hypnosis and group hysteria exist, and I shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. I found myself, not just disappointed, but embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to tell people that I believed my family was cursed by god or the devil, or that we had been molested by some evil sorceress. I was simply trying to say that, somehow...isn’t there some kind of spiritual truth to this? Isn’t it worth remarking on, that my life, my history, had congealed into such an incredible metaphor for itself? Isn’t it so much more compelling than any kind of fiction I could ever have written, any artwork I could ever have created in order to process the exact kind of trouble my family has suffered? Isn’t this just amazing, all by itself, without even the benefit of theatrical interpretation? Of course, the conclusion will be that I absolutely have to give this some kind of theatrical interpretation, or else I will go out of my mind. I’m close enough as it is. But, in some ways, I felt like this interpretation has already happened at the hands of Ari Aster, with his horrific fable about how inherited trauma among generations of women gives way to the machinations of a corrupt cult. People who know me well will realize that I’m still leaving out parallels between HEREDITARY and myself, in this already too-long piece of analysis. But I guess what I’m trying to say for now is that I need HEREDITARY, and we each need a HEREDITARY of our own to put our most unspeakable experiences on a pin, under a spotlight, inside a bell jar, to be examined from every angle and exactingly diagnosed, whether we like it or not.

#blogtober #hereditary #ari aster #horror #supernatural #witch #cult #toni collette #milly shapiro #alex wolff #gabriel byrne #anecdotal evidence #mental illness

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nyfacurrent · 5 years

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Business of Art | The Artist’s Creed: 10 Guiding Principles for Your Arts Career

Make your arts career work for you with this empowering advice from artists.

There is no one way to be an artist. Artists use different media, explore a vast range of ideas, and face differing barriers and obstacles. Yet over the years we’ve observed that many artists have one thing in common: tenacity. Below, we’ve distilled advice from people we admire. These intentions and action steps can help you protect and strengthen yourself, as a member of a community, an individual who must survive in the world, and as a creator.

“Find the practice that works for you, and never apologize for it.” - Walidah Imarisha

You’ve most likely read an article, or many, about the routines that notable artists swear by as requirements for productivity. While content like this can be inspiring, it can also be discouraging and alienating. What if you’re not a morning person? What if you you can’t afford to create everyday because you’re juggling multiple jobs to pay the bills?

In the words of educator and writer Walidah Imarisha, writing or creating every day “works for some, but if it doesn't, especially because you’re struggling to survive, it doesn't mean you aren't a writer” or artist. You are the only one who can set the best, and most feasible, rhythm and schedule for yourself.

Try: If fitting in large chunks of time for your art feels unattainable right now, set aside a few minutes on a regular basis to explore. This could be every night before you go to bed, on your morning commute, or during a break at work. Write down impressions of your environment, do a brief sketch, or think about ideas you’d like to explore in future work. You’ll find these few minutes will add up.

Or, if you’re ready and able to carve out more time aggressively but find yourself pulled in opposite directions by various priorities and responsibilities, set aside realistic chunks of time in your calendar to create. If your calendar is digital, set up reminder alerts. Treat this time as you would a work obligation.

Build yourself up.

Become your own best supporter. Writer Esmé Weijun Wang takes a documented approach. “My own self-belief has to be nurtured. I have a file of Kind Words that people have said or written to me...which I sometimes refer to.”

Try: Create your own repository of kind words. This could be a document you add to, or you could try a more tactile approach and list compliments on your wall or create text-based art with them.

Do the thing.

Creative block will manifest for every artist, but it is different for every artist. Perhaps, to counter it, you need rest, or a break, or to let yourself focus on another project. Ultimately, though, it can be helpful to “do the thing,” in the words of author Pam Stucky. Wendy Perron (Fellow in Choreography ’85) recommends doing the thing “even if at that (blocked) point, it feels really stupid and pointless. At least then you'll have something to look at or fix or edit.”

It’s OK to ask for help.

You don’t have to do it alone. If you’re struggling in some way, it’s very likely there is someone or something that can help. That’s why NYFA offers the NYFA Source Hotline, a free referral hotline that you can call at (800) 232-2789, from Monday - Friday, 3:00 PM - 5:00 PM EST, or email at [email protected].

If you’re experiencing financial duress because of an emergency, you may be the perfect candidate for an emergency grant.

Try: Reach out. Your local arts council or arts organization likely has the exact resources you need. Need a writer’s community or workshop? They may be able to connect you. Is your studio space lease ending with no alternative in sight? Organizations like chashama and many others offer free and affordable residencies. And remember, your peer network—either online or in-person— is one of your best resources available to you. Your fellow creators may be able to provide you with feedback, spread the word about your events, and help you make connections. Just be sure to offer help in return to ensure a fair and equitable partnership.

“Watch your pals.” - Hanif Abdurraqib

It can be a challenge to find the perfect outlets for your work once you’re ready to share it with the world. Here’s a simple starting point from poet and essayist Hanif Abdurraqib: “All of my dream publications are the places I can be published next to the work of my friends and heroes.”

Try: Create a list of 10 favorite artists in your discipline with whom you feel an affinity in style or subject matter. These could be artists in your circle, online or in-person, or others you admire from afar. Where are they published? Which galleries exhibit their work? At which festivals have they performed? Then, research any relevant deadlines or eligibility guidelines and set reminders for deadlines and the steps you need to take along the way to be ready to submit.

Court rejection.

Don’t let the “no’s” you receive define you. Rejection is inevitable. Poet Lauren Whitehead speaks of “courting rejection.” Lean into the “no’s” you receive because that means you’re putting your work out there. Celebrate your rejections. Some even recommend aiming for 100 rejections per year, because that increases your odds of being accepted.

You can be financially stable.

Being an artist can be a financial challenge, whether you’re trying to finance a full-time artistic practice, pay student loans for your creative education, or afford studio space. But let’s throw out the stereotype of the starving artist. It is possible to survive, and even thrive, financially as an artist or creative, and there are many ways to reach this goal. Caitlin Pearce, Executive Director of the Freelancers Union, offers one strategy for independent contractors: “For many freelancers, stability comes with diversifying their income portfolio… [and with] finding diverse ways to monetize their skills and expertise.”

Try: Artists and creatives in all fields are often at a loss on how to price their work or services. Artist fees and hourly rates should be realistic in order to be competitive. But begin with the income you need, and want, to earn as your starting point, and prioritize this number. Your target annual income can help you find a sustainable hourly rate. Try using the formula provided by Andrew Simonet in Making Your Life as an Artist (free for download with newsletter sign-up).

Another principle to live by: when you’re creating a project budget, remember to pay yourself for your time.

Know your rights.

Here’s a staggering statistic from the National Endowment for the Arts: “American artists are highly entrepreneurial; they are 3.5 times more likely than the U.S. workforce to be self-employed.” This means that artists and creatives can find themselves without the protections of a standard workplace, shouldering more risk and liability.

There are steps you can take to protect yourself. Work with a contract so that expectations are clear. This is crucial for larger projects and highly recommended for smaller projects. The Freelancers Union offers contract templates that are compliant with New York City’s Freelance Isn’t Free Act, which protects the right to timely and full payment.

Another consideration for independent contractors: try to avoid work for hire contracts, in which the party that commissions the work or the employer owns the rights to the work. Poet, educator, and performer Denice Frohman cautions: “Don’t give your rights away.”

Try: There are a range of contract templates online or you may want to ask peers to share their template with you. Photographer Reggie Cunningham reworks templates that large companies and clients have sent to him. Whatever your method, resolve to find the format that works for you, so that it’s ready to go before your next opportunity presents itself.

Protect your work, invest in your future.

Your work and your well-being are precious resources; luckily, protecting yourself is well within your power. Every small step you take adds up to readiness in the face of disaster, as well as readiness for exciting opportunities in your arts career.

It’s important to document your work and related materials. “Archives help capture what can easily be lost.” says Eric Colleary, Cline Curator of Theatre & Performing Arts at the Harry Ransom Center. For many artists, “documenting their work for posterity almost becomes an artwork itself“ and is a highly individual process. Apply the same care and creativity in preserving your work as you do in producing it.

Try: Every tiny step is helpful. Here’s an example: look around your studio or living or storage space. Are there important materials in a basement or attic that could flood or experience extreme temperature shifts? Move them to a safer spot. Or, research opportunities to preserve your assets. CERF+ offers mini grants for craft artists called Get Ready Grants to help artists safeguard their studios and their careers.

Ready to start archiving? Here are a few resources that can guide you through the archival process: a guide from the Joan Mitchell Foundation for visual artists; Dance Heritage Coalitions Artist’s Legacy Toolkit; and resources on preserving electronic and time-based works from the American Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works. Thinking about your legacy early on will also help you get your work out into the world in the present.

The world needs your perspective.

Artists are all too familiar with imposter syndrome, as people who make their own rules and create something out of nothing. This leaves room for doubt. Over time, you’ll find your own ways to counter this feeling, but try starting with affirmations that help you fake it ‘till you make it. Writer Brandon Taylor says: “I try to remind myself that my work is worthy. Sometimes I literally say that in the shower until I believe it. ‘Your work is worthy, your work is worthy, your work is worthy.’ I try to take it very seriously. So that even if I suck that day, I still try.”

On top of everyday imposter syndrome, many artists receive messaging, subtle or otherwise, that their work or experiences are less valued than others. Deanna Fei (Fellow in Fiction ’06) on writing about her experiences as a parent: “We assume the family or domestic sphere is less worthy as fodder for art. But race, class, power are in every class and playground.” Disregard that prejudice and create “what inspires you. Start with the tiny and specific. Then go wide and big.”

- Mirielle Clifford, Program Officer, Online Resources

This article draws inspiration from #ArtistHotline, an initiative dedicated to creating an ongoing online conversation around the professional side of artistic practice. Our goal is to help artists discover the resources needed, online and off, to develop sustainable careers.

Have an arts career question? You can contact NYFA staff directly via the NYFA Source Hotline at (800) 232-2789, from Monday - Friday, 3:00 - 5:00 PM EST or email [email protected].

This initiative is supported by the Emily Hall Tremaine Foundation.

Images from top: Michelle Boule (Fellow in Choreography ’16); Jordan Casteel (Finalist in Painting ’18), The Baayfalls

#business of art #artisthotline #professional development #artist professional development #nyfasource #nyfa source #emily hall tremaine foundation #mirielle clifford #instagram

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rottenwoodandwiltedsunflowers · 7 years

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Thoughts from a Waffle (9-12)

So I find it hard these days to type out a long play by play type of recap of my shows like I used to. We have a baby (well, I guess a toddler) and if any of you have kids or know people with kids, you know they tend to ruin your life. They are the best and the worst at the same time. So needless to say I love my child more than anything (except my cat...sorry baby cat was here first and he is WAY less of a jerk on a daily basis) but you can’t have anything nice with a baby including hobbies or trips to NYC for Manderley time or blogs that get updated with any sense of regularity. The only reason I am able to type this right now is that I am sitting in an Air B&B in Dumbo while my baby is enjoying a few days with the grandparents. So as much as I love looking back at my old recaps and remembering past shows, I just don’t have the time to write them anymore. Life evolves and so must my recaps. I have however been missing documenting my check-ins for my own memory so I am going to TRY to do these more abbreviated thoughts on my shows type posts. We will see!

EDIT: For your news feed’s sanity, I am going to insert a break here because I am apparently incapable of writing a short bulleted recap but there are not 1:1 spoilers, as per usual, in my recaps.

Last night Kae and I wrapped up show 2 of 3 for this trip. I am just going to talk about what I saw that I liked or that struck me from the shows starting with Tuesday 9-12.

I am fairly sure I deserve a cookie or something of that nature for correctly identifying cast members the last 2 nights. HOLY CRAP THERE ARE SO MANY NEW CAST MEMBERS! We have only been a handful of times this year so I feel like I am still trying to get a grip on the new-as-of-last-cyle cast. To be fair, I spent a lot of time creepily but respectfully studying faces in the cast gallery last week.

Tuesday night the entrance to the show was a bit late but apparently, the show was also running a bit late because we ran down and the witches were just hugging pre-ballroom. I saw Ryan VanCompernolle’s sexy witch and all thoughts of new faces went flying out the window.

Ryan is infectiously fun to watch. This is not an opinion, it is a fact. Her dancing is beautiful and her characters are distinct and interesting. She makes great choices. On the technical side of things, I think she is one of the most impressive women in the McKittrick. She has been with the show longer than we have been going and it shows. She is one of the most versatile swings so it is always fun to see where she lands on the cast. She knows plays every role except Lady Macbeth and Hecate but unlike some cast members who retire their characters and move on to new roles, she plays them all occasionally. I don’t know how she remembers so much show content and manages to perform it so well.

I will almost always choose a loop with Ryan because we just have so much damn fun together. Aside from her beautiful dancing, she keeps me on my toes. I knew that it would be a great way to kick off a 3 show run and I wasn’t disappointed. I found myself smiling under my mask at so many moments.

There was a moment at the end of the sexy witch 1:1 where we were standing in the dark and she leaned in and whispered in my ear “Welcome back.” It was a moment that really pulled at my heart. It was a gentle reminder of what this building means to me (and so many other fans) who frequent it during times in their life of celebration or heartache. It was a reminder that there are breathtaking stories and art inside the McKittrick but also a sense of community.

I have to go on a little rant about just how good the witch trio was on Tuesday night. Ryan, Daniel, and Krista were perfect. The chemistry was off the charts. I have said before that other witch trios were great but to get to the level that they were on with Daniel in a relatively new role and Krista being a new cast member was astonishing. I think I said this recently about the Steph C, Emily, and Tyler trio but Tuesday's trio was better. I watched the rave 2x and it was scandalizing. I have seen this show 70+ times. I was scandalized.

Daniel is a great boy witch. To be fair, he hasn’t been on my radar much in the past but I never really follow Banquo or Macbeth so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. He rocks the boy witch guyliner and embodies the spirit of boy witch. His audience interactions were great. Bravo!

Krista is a great bald witch. Kae followed her more than I did but if you are a bald witch lover, you are in for a treat this cycle. I saw both Krista and Molly the past 2 nights and hold onto your horses because bald witch is stronger than ever. Nothing to be disappointed or worried about this cast change over. Also, just in case you keep score- there are 3 bald bald witches in rotation so hallelujah!

These witches were driving the McKittrick sex appeal through the roof in their portrayals! Whether it was bald and boy messing around or bald and sexy’s long embrace in the ballroom pre-reset, it was all fun and sexy.

At the end of Ryan’s sexy witch bar top solo, she dropped to the floor and reached up for my hand. Standard interaction- sexy witch grabs your hand looking crushed as Hecate rips her away, tells her to buck up, and sends her on her way. Ryan grabs my hand and forcibly yanks me into THE MIDDLE OF THE SCENE. Needless to say, I felt immediately panicked inside standing next to her, next to the bar, in front of all of the other white masks, feeling like I definitely did something I shouldn’t have. That mask was useless because I felt totally exposed and like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. Did I mention Ryan likes to keep me on my toes? Mission accomplished.

Tori’s Hecate forcibly removed out hands and stared me down. There aren’t many things that scare me in the show these days but I am more than willing to admit that Tori’s Hecate does. She continued to stare me down as she fixed sexy witches dress and ended the scene. Needless to say, I bolted out of there.

I did inevitably loop back around to Tori’s Hecate later in that show. I walked into the rep bar as she was finishing a reset of her table. I was about 2 steps inside and no one else was in sight. She was by the bar in front of the blue light and I saw her turn around and very quickly make a beeline toward me. She grabbed my hand, dragged me into the hall, and very forcefully tossed/pinned me against the wall. Once again, I am not easily shaken inside the hotel but Tori makes me real nervous. She told me a terrifying story about witches and the perils of sailing.

It is always a bit vulnerable when a performer removes your mask but it is downright terrifying when it is literally aggressively snatched off of your face by Hecate.

Brace yourselves for the shocker I’m about to lay out...I visited the Matron’s hut. I love a Matron who engages in storytelling using their eyes and Chelsey is great. Very inviting and warm but it is her eyes that make her 1:1 great. There is a very precise moment in the story where her eyes shift from hope to despair and the shift is stark and amazing.

Tori’s lip sync. I don’t really need to say more.

The last thing about my first show that really stuck out as fantastic was Molly Griffin. I love me a good nurse character and I am really liking Molly’s vibe on the character.

I watched her fold some laundry and lay it out in the room with the beds. This is one of the standard nurse activities that can be very boring to watch for long periods of time and can get repetitive. I watched Molly lay out pajamas on 3 different beds and she laid them out all very differently. You could see her nurse carefully thinking through each one like it was of the utmost importance. The first one she laid out so it was laying down, one leg slightly bent, with their arms up next to their head. The next one, she turned down the bed laying the shirt out before pulling the sheet back up to give the illusion the person was tucked in. She then took the pants, folding them with great precision, and made them into a small rectangle. The nurse then tucked the rectangle into the top of the shirt to make a head for this imaginary patient. It was VERY clever! The third person she laid out straight with their arms crossed at the wrists at their waist.

She went into the operating theater and ran her hand around the walls until she reached the upper back corner of the room. She faced the corner with her back to the audience and basically had a breakdown in the corner before quickly composing herself and rushing off as though she had suddenly remembered somewhere she had to be. I am very interested to see how her nurse character develops!

At the end of the show, I went back to find sexy witch. Sometimes when I full loop a character for the first loop (ballroom to ballroom) I find it fitting and cathartic to end the show with that character. It is a nice cycle to my show. Also, I adore Ryan! At the end of the finale, Ryan spotted me and we went running back to the Manderley all smiles!

#Sleep No More #mckittrick hotel #snm recap

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engl699readingjournal-blog · 7 years

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A Dazed article comes across your Facebook newsfeed: “Photo Gallery Captures Berlin’s Booming Underground Queer Scene.” The photo gallery comprises 700 photos of thin cis white gays with shaved heads and stick-and-poke tattoos, dancing in runners and jockstraps. "In Berlin you can always expect the underground to be at the vanguard of European nightlife, especially in the queer community.” Some of the gays have on chest harnesses. No one has ever worn fetish gear before the men in these photos have. “This photo gallery of 8,000 identical thin cis white gays with shaved heads and stick-and-pokes and chest harnesses on Special K, dancing in an abandoned East Berlin S-Bahn station, wearing only runners and jockstraps, shows you just how dynamic the Berlin party scene is. Here you see four of them making out as a form of rebellion. Here you see six leather daddies tag-teaming a seventh leather daddy in a sling.” Your acquaintance, a permanent fixture in the DC club scene who doesn’t care about what pronouns you use in reference to him because he has smashed the gender binary by wearing lipstick, has shared the link, and that’s why you see it. “So who’s going to Berlin with me?” he asks. Vice has done it! Dazed has done it! It has captured the spirit of big-middle-finger queerness! It is thin, it is white, it got into Berghain, it is being penetrated at the glory-hole-wall.

“Queer” is a verb now, an action, something done unto, a process. It has been for some time. Spaces are queered, revolutions are queered, ideologies (or lack thereof) are queered, bodies are queered. It is also a gerund, implying a sort of peristalsis that indicates an ongoing undertaking. It is a participle adjective, implying that the done-unto noun has arrived at queer. It has been queered. Who is doing the queering? How is the queering being done? When has something been queered? Passive voice. In Berlin it often feels like a sticker slapped onto an electrical box by a bicyclist who pedals on without looking back. To queer is an infinitive applied to infinite done-untos, it is punk, to queer is a home-run sales pitch, to queer is a tourist attraction. A queered space – a museum, a bar, a club, a party, a café – can be queered in the same way that you can wake up one day and decide to go around telling people you’re an entrepreneur or a venture capitalist. Or a communist, or an opportunist, or a classical violinist. You repeat it until you’re convinced you’re understood, you’re believed. There is nothing different about you except that you are now this thing because you said you were. So let it be written, so it shall be queered.

This is the problem with many spaces in Berlin. Perhaps a fundamental difference in understanding of language is the core issue here, that many native-German-speaking peoples’ understanding of queer goes as far as “not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you,” that queer sounds better than gay now because queer is the gritty anti-pride parade in Kreuzberg and gay is the ungainly lurching caravan of commercial excess that slogs down the Kurfürstendamm while blotto tourist twinks in sparkling fairy wings and assless underwear lie passed-out on the sidewalk. Christopher Street Day on the Kurfürstendamm. Me late for my shift at the Schwules Museum because I gave up on waiting for a bus from Zoo Station and sprinted to Lützowstraße, charging straight through the parade the twink in assless underwear and fairy wings having a pils dumped over him. A conspicuously sanitized funeral procession for politicized radical queer anything that plods past Nollendorfplatz and heads for the Siegessäule, a giant memorial penis a straight shot down the Straße des 17. Juni from the Brandenburger Tor, where the whole affair finally comes to an end. Straight through the Tiergarten, where you can still spot the cruisers strolling nude between the trees from the windows of a bus. Wraiths of cigarette smoke from the patrons of the Eldorado curl up into the sweltering blue sky as the apparitions of bygone Berlin look on, pink triangles, shaved heads, rough-hewn tattoos. Are they asking if this is what they were sent to Sachsenhausen for, to Dachau?

Over aluminum containers packed with basmati rice and Vietnamese curry, Tanno and I sat on the floor of the dining room and flipped through an issue of Siegessäule magazine, probably picked up from the counter at Silver Future, a dive we frequented on Weserstraße “for Kings and Queens and Criminal Queers.” Siegessäule is a monthly report on what all of the same people are up to: where is Alexander Geist performing tonight and which cultural costume will they be appropriating this time? Yony Leyser is making a new film. Any updates since we last spoke with him four weeks ago? Let’s see! Oh, look, he’s making a new documentary about what makes queer punk, or what makes punk queer, in which he interviews the same group of people he interviewed for his Burroughs documentary. Peaches was spotted going into the bathroom at veganz. Mika Risiko was at Berghain again, sauntering across the steaming pulsing dance floor in a rather aggressive faux-fur coat. “WE ARE QUEER BERLIN,” its audacious slogan, adorned the cover (are we?), as did the artwork of Stefan Fähler, a Berlin-based artist whose obsession with gaping mouths, anuses, staticky-surrealism-meets-confetti-butt-plug-themed-pop-art, made him a perennial figure in the scenesterkreis. He did artwork for all of GEGEN’s promotional materials, for Ficken 3000’s ICKY party. Wherever a phallus was needed, Stefan was summoned to render it in hues of in-your-face pink and radioactive green, erupting neon yellow and blue polka dots. Everything he drew, from dildos to tits, had a blood-red yelling mouth. Presumably yelling that we were queer Berlin. At the Schwules Museum I would perch on the stool at the cash register and flip through the latest issue, which was stacked alongside Exberliner and other Denglisch publications intended for the consumption of German-speakers and English-speakers alike, tourists or permanent fixtures of the city who could somehow navigate the bureaucracy without needing to speak any German. Every month the same cast of characters paraded across the pages: this one DJ’ing at Schokoladen, that one premiering a five-minute film at Villa Neukölln, another one grabbing a drink at Gelegenheiten. Some of my friends’ bands and art installations made it into the “shit you might be interested in doing instead if you can’t catch Mika slinking through Berghain this weekend, if you make it into Berghain at all” – Tanno’s band performing at Urban Spree, Nika’s show in Kreuzberg. They had made it to the fringe of the scenesterkreis.

I flipped to the back of Siegessäule, which included a large map of the city with an old-fashioned coordinate system and corresponding key below. Each queer establishment in the city was sub-divided into categories: bars, clubs, museums and cultural spaces, bath houses, darkrooms, sex clubs, cafés. I was struck upon realizing for the first time that many of the nightlife spaces were annotated with the Mars symbol, the Venus symbol, or both – demarcating which spaces were strictly male, which were strictly female, and which were open to both. I pointed this out to Tanno, who had also never noticed this: “I don’t even look at this part of the magazine. I flip through it and then just leave it on a table somewhere.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a pen and proceeded to circle each establishment that allowed only men; I marked the establishments that allowed only women with asterisks and underlined the ones that claimed to allow both. Most importantly, I squiggly-underlined the ones that claimed to allow both, but where I had personally felt uncomfortable or had heard from non-cis-male friends was an unwelcome space (Fran, a Canadian artist who had arrived in Berlin around the same time I did and returned to Canada earlier this year, told me that apparently Ficken’s resident rock-out-with-your-cock-out regular who sat at a corner booth stroking his erect cock the entire night was paid to do so in order to ward off unwanted visitors to the bar.

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tomandharriet · 5 years

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An Indian assault course

If you were trying to design a week in India which aimed to scare off any visitor, it would most likely follow the path we took at the beginning of our second stay in India. A good old bout of Delhi belly aside, I think it’s fair to say we took everything India had to throw at us in our stride the first time around and came out in awe of the place. This next week proved to be a lot more challenging and it all began thanks to Tom’s second booking mishap, which featured an accidental 15 hour stopover in Chennai - all in the name of a cheap flight!

We arrived into Chennai at 5am and caught a taxi to a hotel, of sorts, not too far from the airport. They had kindly agreed to let us use a room for the duration of the day. In the darkness of the night, what we didn’t realise until we woke up slightly disorientated at 1pm, was that we had arrived in an area which felt less developed than the slum we had toured around in Mumbai! Even that had it’s trickle of tourists wanting to visit it! We ventured out to find some food and ate probably the only bad curry we had in India, from a takeaway kitchen which presumably serves other parts of the city with deliveries and wasn’t expecting sit down guests at lunchtime!

We just about got ourselves through the day and eventually arrived into Delhi late at night. Excited based on how much we had loved Mumbai, we were pretty much instantly hit by an ever present wave of disappointment, in the form of heavy air pollution which lingered in the air. Thanks to a tip from Joel & Alecia, we were staying in an area called Hauz Khas (or House of Cards as Harriet calls it) and this was the only real saving grace for Delhi in our eyes. It had a bit of a Berlin / Shoreditch does India feel to it and we enjoyed its liveliness and some great restaurants. And that’s about as far as the compliments for Delhi can go. Oh, the modern art gallery and national railway museum were two good ways to pass time when. Ok that’s all the best bits covered. Pollution aside (which is a pretty big ask to try and forget about) we just didn’t like Delhi. The people lacked the warmth we had encountered everywhere else. Someone tried to scam us when we got to the train station, which set the tone! The landmarks were busy and underwhelming. And when we thought we’d come up with a great way to forget about it - even our night at a jazz club turned into an absolute failure. We had our most expensive (and worst) meal in India there, which was a gluten free pizza, presumably gluten free as the base was seemingly made from cardboard. And any hope of the music saving the day was lost when a bumbling German walked on and started introducing his experimental sci-if jazz band, which we couldn’t hear for all the young Indian crowd who were clearly at the jazz club, just to tell people that they had been to the jazz club. It really was like a scene from the Fast Show jazz club. In hindsight we now find the whole thing very entertaining, but we definitely weren’t laughing at the time! To top it all off, we found out that one of our favourite DJs was playing on the night we left Delhi - and it was too late to rearrange our plans.

We’ve come to realise that so much of traveling is about expectations and that experiences can vary greatly, hinging on little more than chance. And due a bit of luck and not expecting much from our time in Agra (other than the Taj Mahal itself) we were pleasantly surprised. In fact you hopefully won’t have to hear too much more negativity from us again. Delhi definitely felt like the only low point we’ll remember. Arriving into Agra was a literal breath of fresh air. With a warm welcome, we were soon enjoying a late dinner on a rooftop which apparently overlooked the Taj Mahal. It was dark so we had to take his word for it then. We woke early, got near the front of the queue and excitedly entered the grounds, waiting for our first glimpse. During the winter months, there is a mist which rolls off the river behind the Taj and creates a truly atmospheric backdrop. As the sun warms the air, this mist dissipates to reveal the Taj in all it’s glory. With such high expectations, we were delighted that the Taj Mahal didn’t disappoint and we spent a couple of hours exploring this vast marble wonder and its beautiful grounds. Yes it was busy, but deservedly so. And once you’ve seen one riddiculous selfie pose here, you’ve seen them all - so we parked that in the back of our minds and just enjoyed it for what it was.

We had heard from a nice English couple that Agra fort was also worth a visit, so we headed there after breakfast and after a bit of uncertainty, we decided to take our first self-chosen tour guide of the trip. Going on nothing more than the outfit he was wearing, we felt like we might be in good hands. Tom’s first impression was that, a bit like Santhosh back in Alleppey, the guide, Kumar, is probably the type of guy who rides a Royal Enfield. We later found out that this strange hunch was infact true. Hiring Kumar turned out to be an excellent decision, as he really brought the place to life with tales of the Maharajahs who had lived there and the invasion attempts which had outlined it’s history. We decided to go along with his recommendation of a visit to an embroidery shop and again we’re pleased we did - they too had a fascinating history, displayed in a mini-museum of their own shop, including many orders from the British royal family and and some beautiful examples of work. Obviously we were also brought here as he works on a commission basis - so hopefully the Christmas tree decoration we purchased helped him out. Even if it was the cheapest thing in the shop! We spent the remainder of the day doing a bit of Christmas shopping for our families and relaxing on our hotels rooftop, which did indeed come complete with a view of the Taj Mahal. Reflecting on a short but sweet visit to Agra, we received a text update to inform us that our night train to Varanasi was running late. We didn’t realise at that point, that we’d end up getting into Varanasi nearly 7 hours behind schedule.

When it comes to the competition for India’s craziest place, Varanasi comes first, with daylight in second place. Our words alone won’t come close to describing everything that Varanasi encompasses, but in short, we’re glad we went, but definitely won’t be going back! It really is a place you’ve got to see to believe. Stepping out of the station felt like going back in time. Varanasi, built up on the banks of the river Ganges, is one of the oldest cities in the world and is regarded as the holiest of 7 sacred cities in Hinduism. The consequence of this, to put it bluntly, is that many Hindus come here to die. And cremations happen out in the open, as bodies are washed in the Ganges before families cremate them at the side of the river. It’s also seen to be good luck to shave your hair off before visiting Varanasi - but unlike many visiting Indians, we passed on this one! Dead bodies aside, Animals roam more freely than anywhere else we’d seen in India, in fact its the only place we had to jump out of the way of a bull beginning its charge. There were goats roaming everywhere and the overwhelmingly tame and loveable street dogs we’d grown accustomed to elsewhere, were visibly aggressive here. Oh and there’s lots of naked people who cover themselves in white paint and get angry if you encroach on their spot during the evening religious ceremony, a Varanasi must see.

Our favourite experience was a sunrise boat trip, which was preceded by a religious ceremony which seemed to be a dress rehersal for the daily evening show we had already seen. Made particularly entertaining by our boat skipper who had skipped bed and come straight from a wedding, on this tour you get the best view of Varanasi’s many ghats (step baths into the river) where locals come to wash and brush their teeth in the same water that you can see families washing the bodies of their loved ones. That evening, back at our hostel, we got into a very interesting conversation about the ethics of photography, a particularly apt topic in a place like Varanasi. It was prompted after seeing a gaggle of tourists photographing a sleeping homeless man by the river and we were speaking to a travel photographer who often has to consider where ‘the line’ of acceptable photography is. We didn’t exactly reach a conclusion, but it’s a conversation which has been food for thought ever since, particularly when visiting remote towns or places with cultural traditions which feel a million miles away from ours and which need treating with sensitivity and respect.

This stretch of India had undeniably tough parts and at times felt like a test of our love for this country. When we found out that our online ticket reservation to leave Varanasi had been unsuccessful (we won’t get into the complex ticketing system) we were faced with the prospect of having to unwillingly extend our stay in Varanasi. At the station we got talking to a couple from London who were on their honeymoon. They looked pretty shell shocked, having flown straight into Varanasi and now having similar problems with trains. But talking to them about their route through so many of the places we’d already been to and loved reminded us just how much India has to offer and how you’ve just got to take the rough with the smooth. It turns out Varanasi is notorious for train delays and an incredibly patient lady who was dealing with a never ending queue of tourists desperate to get out, eventually found us a solution from a relatively local train station. The good news was that we would be leaving later that evening, the bad news was that we had to go back to Delhi!

Food

It’s difficult to pin point exactly what the key differences were between Sri Lankan and Indian curries. We found Sri Lankan food to be much richer in flavour, whether that be down to Sri Lankan’s using more oil or coconut milk in their food or just due to the difference in spices from each country. Sri Lankan food was great but it did start to become quite an endurance towards the end. It’s safe to say we were really looking forward to eating Indian food again, we had really missed it.

Our first meal back in India kicked off to a pretty epic start at a wonderful restaurant, nestled amongst all the higgledy-piggledy buildings of Hauz Khas in Delhi, called Naivedyam. Naivedyam is the offering of food to god just before pooja begins. They quoted in the restaurant that “we in the hospitality business believe that the ‘consumer is god’” and that very much carried through to the whole experience and service of this meal. Even before ordering we were served a hot and spicy lentil drink called Rasam, some poppadoms accompanied with a fresh tomato chutney and a coriander chutney along with ice cold water served out of some very fancy silver jugs. Put it this way, it was like all the service and food ‘freebies’ of a Michelin starred meal at the cost of a boots meal deal.

Tom didn’t hesitate for a minute to order his absolute favourite, masala dosa. Harriet on the other hand went all out (shock) ordering a Naivedyam Tiffin Thali (basically an Indian breakfast thali), which included.....wait for it; a mini toppi dosa, rasam vadai, idly, umpa, curd rice, lemon rice, aloo subji samba, coconut chutney, tomato chutney, pakoda, pickle and kesri bhath (a sweet dish that Harriet may or may not have realised halfway through her meal). The food just kept coming and coming and being refilled if Harriet got anywhere close to finishing anything. Although triggering one hell of a food coma, it was a great fast track way to sample all of the traditional breakfast food, especially the bits we hadn’t already tried. One stand out had to be the rasam vadai, which was essentially like a small light and fluffy savory doughnut. Perfect for dipping in all of the wonderful array of chutneys. It was no surprise we squeezed in two more visits in our short stay in Delhi.

The next part of our trip involved A LOT of traveling on trains, meaning our diet pretty much consisted of chai teas. Tom even tried to make a desperate attempt to leg it onto the platform to get in a cheeky round, only to find the train was moving when it was his turn to be served. Much to Harriet’s relief the desire for chai was overruled by the prospect of being split up in the middle of nowhere India.

Another highlight for the “first leg of the second part of our trip to India” was the dosa cafe in Varanasi (shout out to Alecia and Joel for the recommendation). The restaurant was so small you were made to cram together and share tables with fellow diners. We were sat with a Russian “hard core” traveller it would seem who was shocked that we were only spending 2 months in India. We felt we had to excuse ourselves for having lives to get back to after this trip. Luckily a cow trying to enter the restaurant broke the ice and she warmed up a little.

However, back to dosas, and every type of dosa you could imagine with more variety of fillings we had ever come across. But the real star of the show had to be the chocolate fudge idly served with ice cream. Basically it was the gooiest, sweetest delight of a pudding that was even more of a treat because the base ingredient was rice so Tom could enjoy every last mouthful.

Travel Jukebox - ‘Teen Dream’ by Beach House

For the second week in a row, we had an album from an artist that we had never heard of to look forward to. This time it was from Tom’s big sis, Jo, who has an excellent track record of filtering down musical discoveries and is largely responsible for turning Tom into a music snob from an early age. Jo and Nick enjoyed their own adventure in ‘the East’ several years ago at a similar life stage and it was this album which apparently soundtracked much of their trip.

The album has been a real grower, which may not sound like a compliment but it really is when it turns into an earworm of an album. It starts very strongly with ‘Zebra’ and ‘Silver Soul’ both tracks which sound so familar, despite not recognising Beach House. On first listening, maybe it was the wrong mood, maybe it was the long, hot bus journey with a driver who thought he was Lewis Hamilton, but much of the rest of the album seemed to mould into one. But with further listenings, of which there have now been many, each track has really grown on us and familiarity has given this album a real warmth, making it easy to see how it became an album to soundtrack a trip.

Beach House describe themselves as a Dream Pop duo, which explains better than we could, why their music seems so apt for traveling. In fact, this was exactly the type of album which made us realise just how difficult it is to write about music, when sometimes there’s not much more to say than it put a smile on our faces and stuck with us and there’s a good chance you’ll like it too!

TLDR; We thought Mumbai was the deep end, but that’s the baby pool compared to Varanasi..!

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Where To Eat Outside In Palm Springs added to Google Docs

Where To Eat Outside In Palm Springs

Even in the midst of a pandemic, Palm Springs remains LA’s favorite weekend getaway. Just two hours away (barring traffic, of course), this desert oasis offers ample sun, a glacial social pace, and long afternoons getting hammered by the pool. While the usually chaotic downtown is a bit quieter these days, there are still plenty of restaurants open for safe, socially distant outdoor dining. If you feel like checking one out while you’re there, here’s a list of our 16 favorite.

Featured In The LA Socially Distant Summer Guide Everything you need to enjoy some semblance of summer. THE SPOTS Las Casuelas Terraza $$$$ 222 S Palm Canyon Dr.

Before the pandemic, Las Casuelas was unquestionably the place to be for dinner if you were in town with a big group. Obviously, things have changed a bit, but the popular Mexican restaurant in downtown has reopened for socially distant outdoor dining on one of their many patios. Just be sure to take it slow with their margaritas - they’ll catch up to you in a hurry. Call (760) 325-2794 for reservations.

Trio $ $ $ $ Palm Springs $$$$ 707 N. Palm Canyon Dr.

Open at 8am on weekends and 3pm on weekdays, Trio is a popular restaurant in the Uptown Design District, and a great spot to hit up no matter what time of day it is. That said, their three-course prix-fixe menu (daily from 3pm-6pm) is our thing here, and at $25 per person, it’s also a steal. They’ve extended their giant wrap-around front patio to ensure safe socially distant meals. Call (760) 864-8746 for reservations.

Jakob Layman Juniper Table $ $ $ $ Brunch in Palm Springs $$$$ 100 W Tahquitz Canyon Way

Located on the ground floor of the Rowan Kimpton Hotel, Juniper Table looks and feels like any other run-of-the-mill lobby restaurant, but the food here is much better than that. Open every day from 7:30am-8pm, Juniper Table has a very solid menu full of sandwiches, salads, and other very tasty breakfast-y things. Their outdoor patio is a great place to eat in the morning before it gets to be 1,000 degrees out.

Cheeky's $ $ $ $ Brunch in Palm Springs $$$$ 622 N Palm Canyon Dr

If you hear someone shout “brunch!” in Palm Springs, it probably means they’re on their way to Cheeky’s. Open only until 2pm on the weekends, this cafe has become the go-to morning dining destination in PS, and has taken over the adjoining Birba patio to allow for safe outdoor dining. They don’t take reservations, but even during the pandemic, it’s best to arrive early to avoid the lines. The bacon flight is a must.

Chi Chi $ $ $ $ Latin , Brunch in Palm Springs $$$$ 415 S Belardo Rd

Most hotel restaurants in Palm Springs are currently closed, but Chi Chi inside the Avalon Hotel is an outlier. The leafy poolside cafe has socially distant tables, plenty of shade, and a Latin-leaning brunch menu that’ll help soak up all those margaritas from last night. Open daily from 7am-10pm.

Sherman's Deli and Bakery $ $ $ $ Deli in Palm Springs $$$$ 401 E. Tahquitz Canyon Way

Certain scenarios are expected of Palm Springs, like plenty of pool time and several rounds of golf, but a NYC-style kosher deli in the heart of downtown took us by surprise. Sherman’s is a Palm Springs institution, serving immensely respectable versions of all the old classics like hot pastrami on rye and stuffed cabbage. Both the PS and Palm Desert locations have safe outdoor dining available.

Ruben and Ozzy's Oyster Bar $ $ $ $ Bar Food in Palm Springs $$$$ 241 E. Tahquitz Canyon Way

You come to Ruben and Ozzy’s because the midday sun is taking zero prisoners and you need a beer and some oysters. This is a glorified dive bar with a big front patio where you can drink cheaply in a socially distant environment. With $5 alcoholic oyster shooters though, be sure you plan a safe ride home in advance.

Sandfish $ $ $ $ Japanese , Sushi in Palm Springs $$$$ 1556 N Palm Canyon Dr

Most people probably don’t head into the desert with the expectation of finding great sushi, but Sandfish continues to prove that theory wrong. This sushi spot and Japanese whiskey bar on the north side of town has fresh fish that goes toe-to-toe with some restaurants in LA, so if you’re looking for a lighter dinner and socially distant patio, keep Sandfish top of mind. The scallop and hamachi crudo are both musts. Call (760) 537-1022 for reservations.

Workshop Workshop $ $ $ $ American in Palm Springs $$$$ 800 N Palm Canyon Dr

If you’ve heard of one restaurant in Palm Springs, chances are it’s Workshop. This modern restaurant right in downtown is largely credited for bringing the whole farm-to-table (desert-to-table?) movement to PS. And even after all these years - and plenty of new competition - it’s still one of the best. Their large courtyard is open from 6-10pm during the week and until 11pm on the weekends, call (760) 459-3451 to make a reservation.

Felipe's $ $ $ $ Mexican in Palm Springs $$$$ Edit 400 S El Cielo Rd. Ste A

Solid Mexican food in Palm Springs is not always easy to come by, which is why you need to know about Felipe’s. Open daily from 10am-11pm, this family-run cafe is serving familiar Mexican classics better than anybody in town. The tiny spot is out by the airport, perfect for when you just want to sit quietly on a patio and not deal with the downtown crowds. The Hawaiian torta is a must.

Tropicale The Tropicale $ $ $ $ Palm Springs $$$$ 330 E. Amado Rd

With an old-school Miami supper club feel, The Tropicale is a grown-up, kitschy oasis and perhaps your best opportunity to finally pull off that flowered button-down you got in Nassau. This is a fine dining experience (and a pretty good one at that), but with an impressive cocktail list and a sprawling back patio that allows for plenty of room in between tables. Call (760) 866-1952 to make a reservation.

Tac/Quila $$$$ 415 N Palm Canyon Dr.

Open only since 2019, Tac/Quila is still fairly new to the downtown dining scene, but its Jalisco-style food deserves your attention. The menu is quite large, but whether you go for the shrimp ceviche, roasted poblano pepper, or one of the many different street tacos, know that you’re going to be eating - and drinking - well. The front patio has been recently expanded into the adjoining sidewalk.

Eight4Nine / Facebook Eight4Nine $$$$ 849 N Palm Canyon Dr.

Located in the Uptown Design District, you could easily mistake Eight4Nine for an art gallery, but it is, in fact, a restaurant. And a good one at that. The menu is wide-ranging, with everything from cheese plates to poke bowls to chicken Milanese, but just know you can’t really order wrong here. There’s a large outdoor patio with socially distant tables, place mat menus, and plenty of shade.

Elmer's / Facebook Elmer's Restaurant $$$$ 1030 E Palm Canyon Dr.

Elmer’s might not have the modern shine of other breakfast/brunch spots in Palm Springs, but when you’re in the mood for a straightforward breakfast without any bells and whistles, you can’t beat it. The old-school diner has a large menu filled with every breakfast staple you could want - skillets, pancakes, waffles, crepes, and our favorite eggs Benedict in town. They currently have two outdoor patios and a new shaded dining area on the grass.

Crazy Coyote Tacos $ $ $ $ Tex-Mex in Palm Springs $$$$ 13033 Malki Road

You’re driving back to LA aggressively hungover, and you need some life-saving food. Pull over at the Cabazon outlets and make your way to Crazy Coyote, a tiny order-at-the-window taco shack. $6.50 might seem like a lot for a taco, but when they say “giant taco,” they really mean it. Our order is always one steak and one chicken, each doused in their spicy ghost pepper salsa. There’s a shaded patio out front, or you can just do what we do - eat it in our car with our head leaning against the steering wheel.

Lulu / Facebook Lulu California Bistro $$$$ 200 S Palm Canyon Dr.

With a massive, prime spot in downtown, Lulu has been a Palm Springs staple for nearly a decade now, and though you can probably find better food elsewhere in the neighborhood, nobody can deny their patio is excellent. And these days, it’s even larger with six feet in between tables and tons of shade.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/los-angeles/guides/where-to-eat-outside-in-palm-springs Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created August 10, 2020 at 11:42PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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