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oceanlipgloss · 4 months

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5.1.2024

—nsfw

Time for dessert with Paimon lol the scene says "I can see you blushing wherever I look" and that sounds so appealing I tell you

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intro: this is unrelated to the H-scene, but no more images fit in my previous entry and OH MY GOD BELIAL. MC GETS TO MEET HIM NOW! I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO THAT SO MUCH AAAAH And. Did Jjyu just call Bimet. A poop? ROFL well if he insists, how about solid gold poop nah I like Bimet a biiit too much don't even think about it Jjyu he does deserve the insult tho ngl

update I: I really appreciate MC being considerate and trying not to worry the others. Also, when I think about Sitri's H-scene I go to heaven ascend more please and his "don't worry. I can help" just now made my heart flutter so much lmao Paimon being worried, too? <3

update II: it's the subtle shit that shoots me in the heart wooooo

update III: yeah! besties help each other

update IV: roll with it, girl. He's gonna do you in a few anyways, so I'd say him calling you his bestie should be the least of your, um, 'problems'

update V: he feeds my nonexistent hope only to starve it again. I'm going to treat myself to his H-scene again soon. It's perfect in every way, food for my heart pun fully intended and I wish there was more because my god

update VI: lol Paimon quickly catching on to the meaning behind Sitri's 'I can help' and insisting to rain on his parade? Everyone has to get a turn but still, pls Sitri for the main course, Zagan for dessert and Satan for breakfast

update VII: oooooh, something new this time

update VIII: oh my. Mirrors. It's full of mirrors. Meaning he'll be able to see MC in every single mirror as he rails her, so no matter where he looks, he'll see her blushing, like the quote says. Nice thinking, Paimon lol

update IX: oh yeahhh there's going to be more 'steps' this time. You better undress EACH OTHER this is exciting

update X: 'play,' you say, eh?

update XI: one word: YES

update XII: I see. I really see. Uh-huh. I can read his mind

update XIII: fucking hell, it's already lunchtime! The subtle stuff, it's always the subtle stuff

update XIV: he's behaving the total opposite of his appearance skjbkebsjf like 'you WILL look at the mirror and you WILL see what I'm going to do to you' mhm

update XV: dear Lord the mere concept of it. Exquisite have a gold star

update XVI: YEAHHHH

update XVII: MC gets it. This is what I was talking about in my other post ugh yaaaas

update XVIII: no but him telling her what to do? "Place your hands on the wall" GODDAMMIT PAIMON YES

update XIX: rockin' yours truly is vibing with this

update XX: holy mother of— his arms and thighs, yo

update XXI: even MC is like holy cow this is unreal but I'm like girl, say that to porn. THIS, ON THE OTHER HAND? THIS IS ARTISTIC But WHERE IS THE BLOOD??? WE NEED PAINT

update XXII: good stuff munch munch

update XXIII: that last part? Paimon taking a mirror, throwing it on the ground and ordering MC to gaze down at it? Then MC nutting falling apart because of that? YUP.

update XXIV: compensating for lack of blood with fluff isn't a substitute for ketchup quite enough, but this was really nice, so...the fluff, here it comes!

update XXV: leave it to MC to end things with a bang

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6.1.2024

+note: this was really good. I was, however, expecting there to be blood. I do understand the reasons for staying on the safe side, but honestly, it's sad and unfortunate that this avoidance has to be practiced when the game itself is founded on dark and unusual themes—that alone should be a pass for unorthodox things to be injected into it. Including Paimon's Haematophilia would've sprinkled extra spice and given an even more unique dash to this scene. The sheer contrast with his sweet appearance would've truly been a cherry on top.

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edit 1: well guys, guess what! It's time for one of THOSE battles again. You know, 3-48 with those screeching angels how tf is something so horrendous an angel and the spike-shitting ones! I said it was coming, didn't I? So woohoo, I was right got stuck again I expected this to happen after the H-scene tbh, the battles were much too easy IMMA HOPEFULLY PASS WITH THAT SINGLE L CARD OF MINE THO maybe not because I refuse to spend my lesser keys just yet, so let's see how many days it'll take me to pluck some feathers this time (update 2: this girl definitely isn't passing with her one L card)

edit 2: dude this battle is hellish difficult FR (update 1: I take that back. It's hardcore+) so for now DOWN WE GO AND DEFEAT IT IS, BOYS pffft (update 3: I just promoted Satan's card for the last time *coolly crosses fingers* but tell you what, everyone other than Satan is quickly skipping to the other side Satan isn't gonna be of much help on his own) (7.1.2024, update 4: you're telling me there's one more promotion to get to level 90? Lmfao hell nah bro I'm not doing it. Noooooooo)

edit 3: OMFG I— This is irrelevant to what I was talking about but it's memorable asf lol so, I was shuffling through the characters I have and scrolling their opinion sections. I once again found myself thinking that Gusion is hot because goddamn, he really is. Anyways, in his section someone wrote, "him asking me 'what's 1000-7?' while railing me" and I'm gonna break into a dance because IT'S A TOKYO GHOUL REFERENCE AND AS A HUGE TOKYO GHOUL FAN THE CONTEXT OF IT IS KILLING ME LMAO Whoever is behind that comment, you've got big brains. You deserve 1000 stickers. Gusion would love you lol and most importantly, your idea is making me feel things I can't wait for MC to meet him I also predict that his H-scene will be BOMB

8.1.2024

edit 4: I PASSED. OH MY GOD. I PASSED. I DON'T BELIEVE IT. BARBATOS, ASTAROTH, PPYONG, MY SAVIOURS! YOU PROTECTED SATAN AND SAVED ME! Let me mention what happened, though, because my God. The third time was the charm in this case. After try upon try, I almost won, but then Satan died, so no can do. That was near-win number one. On my second almost-victory, I had 2 angels left but they were the screaming ones—I had two remaining hearts, so I was was just about to either move Satan and use his Ultimate attack or let one of them pass but guess what? NO MORE MOVES! Satan's HP was near zero so he goes *poof* and I lose with hope because WE CAN ALL SEVEN OF US KICK BUTT AS WE ARE AFTER ALL! The third time, though? Rattle 'em, boys we got it in the bag! Anyways, I'm elated. TIME TO CONTINUE THE STORY and perhaps not celebrate just yet, because I'm certain more battles like this one are on the way. But wow, it really did take three days this time too!

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update XXVI: ugh he can't help it <3

update XXVII: I'm sorry, but...SMELLY FLY? Pffff

update XXVIII: Jjyu's insults are weird asf lol I mean, 'you're worse than a pill bug' and 'you're like spittle'? lmao

update XXIX: It's heartbreaking and unjust that devils have lost a lot because of angels. Belial lost his voice, Andre lost his family and friends...it's so sad and unjust. And the fact that Belial spoke on his own when he thought MC was Solomon is so sweet and touching. There's so much meaning and emotion behind this gesture.

update XXX: excuse me while I obsess over the fact that he has to have his hands on her or be near her somehow

update XXXI: this is truly so sweet. And Belial seems to be very gentle and get emotional quite easily. I love that so much

update XXXII: what the angels are doing is monstrous. What the hell

update XXXIII: when someone is as anguished as this, nothing can truly comfort them, but he really deserves a long, silent hug until his tears just start to fall and some of the pain gets out

update XXXIV: thank you for being kind to him, MC <3

update XXXV: he's so hurt and heartbroken. I feel so sad for him

update XXXVI: it seems that I've already put 30 images, so I can't add more, but Belial thanking MC for acknowledging his sadness, and Jjyu immediately following after with "you bedwetter!" is hilariously smart lol because come on, he is NOT wrong she IS a bedwetter, just not in the sense he means

update XXXVII: now it's Bimet's turn to add a light touch to this emotional scene, apparently, because MC and Belial are both crying, Belial is wiping MC's tears (he's so sweet, I love him so much already) MC, you should wipe his tears too and cue Bimet coming in with "I can't see through my tears. Condolence money pls :(" lol I adore him

update XXXVIII: lmao everyone is thinking about how vile Bimet is and is glaring daggers at him. Meanwhile, Mammon is just *proud* like 'THAT'S MY RIGHT-HAND MAN, EVERYONE!'

update XXXIX: Sitri, my sweet...sometimes, only sometimes, the one thing you seem to hear well is heartbeats. Satan probably got a sore throat because of how often he's told others that MC is Solomon's daughter and not Solomon himself, yet you still insist that she is indeed Rika? Solomon I GET THAT YOU MISS HIM A BUNCH BUT PLEASE, SITRI, LISTENNN And now, look at this man as he scolds Ppyong for 'saying that Belial is dead' when all the poor marshmallow ever did was repeat again and again that BELIAL IS NOT DEAD never worry, though, Sitri, for I still love you to bits

#what in hell is bad diaries #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb #whb paimon

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exhausted-archivist · 6 months

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Comparing and Contrasting Recipes From the Cookbook to Previous Mentions: The Differences, Similarities, and My Thoughts

A full list of recipes that have been previously mentioned in the series, coupled with my thoughts on the cookbooks working recipe in comparison.

I find interest in the fact that the working recipes have little to no grounding in lore as they are often in contradiction to the lore blurbs that accompany them or are in direct contradiction of in game recipes in instances that don't seem apparent as to why they made the ingredient change. Fluffy Mackerel Pudding being the exception to this.

But I broke this into 4 sections:

Previous Dishes Recipes and Their Differences

Drink Recipes

Lore Differences, General Notes

Short Summary of Opinion

Going to put all of this under the cut as it is super long.

Previous Recipes and Their Differences

Antivan Gnocchi This one was a curious one, as the dish was only recently introduced into Thedas in Tevinter Nights. I enjoyed the lore blurb for this recipe as it really anchored in some food and cultural facts you only hear in the anthology. However, the lore blurb describes the gnocchi as dressed with leeks and cheese sauce but then the working recipe... distinctly lacks any leeks and instead goes for a rather basic pine nut pesto sauce. Which puzzles me why they didn't just simply describe that rather than what is in the lore blurb.

Eggs à la Val Foret Originally mentioned in a note in Trespasser. It is described in the cookbook to have tons of cream and in the original note to have a cream sauce. However, the working recipe does not follow that criteria, using hollandaise sauce and giving this recipe a form of eggs Benedict, leaving the first case for why the recipes in the cookbook are likely not adhering to canon.

Black Lichen Bread This one I almost didn't include as the specification of black lichen has never been mentioned before in canon. However, we do know that in Origins we have mentions in Orzammar of lichen bread and in the lore blurb it specifies "this is lichen bread not bark bread" so I'm running with that. My thoughts on this particular recipe is the fact that instead of using a grain that would give a brown colour and mixing something like black seasame of gel food colouring to achieve the dark colour and instead used activated charcoal. Which shouldn't be anyone's first choice due to the known risks of consuming activated charcoal. Which is a whole post in and of itself that I went into here.

Dwarven Plum Jam The plum jam was first mentioned in Origins and has been remarked on multiple times since. There isn't really anything to contradict here in terms of the lore blurb, the working recipe throws me, because this recipe is not meant for long term storage outside of the refrigerator. Which is arguably not made clear enough as the final step says "The plum jam will keep for up to 6 months sealed in a cool place. Refrigerate after opening." Which contradicts the last line of the previous step "Store the jars in the refrigerator." As minor as they seem, these are pretty big distinctions. A cool place does not necessarily mean you keep it in the fridge, and this has to be kept in the fridge. The recipe doesn't call for any sugar so there is nothing actually preserving this for long term storage outside of it. So, it really isn't stressed at all and the wordage is conflicting. I would have adapted this for a smaller batch because 4-5 - 14oz jars in your fridge of the same thing take up a lot of space if you aren't giving them away. Additionally, I'd use allspice instead of cinnamon and vanilla extract. If you bloom the allspice before putting it in the plum reduction you get a much larger depth of flavor and you get the notes of vanilla and other things with it.

Fish Chowder First mentioned by Zevran in Origins while speaking of Antiva, the lore blurb carries the same theme. Speaking of how it is a dish that will bring you to Antiva city. There isn't much to speak of in terms of pre-established ingredients, however I find that the working recipe is a bit rich for a dish to be served to folks between a tannery and the coast. Which is a theme I have noticed in general with recipes of the poor or lower class. Instead of using them as simple, low-effort, and sort of beginner recipes they seem to evolve into one of the more complex. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I would have preferred they took advantage of more humble recipes from lore as such things and add additional notes of possible things they could include to "elevate" the recipe as it is called.

Fish in Salt Crust This is Avvar in origin and first mentioned in the DLC Jaws of Hakkon. The lore blurb and in-game description say that this is made by wrapping the fish in pungent leaves and cooked on banked coals. However where the in-game description specifies that the fish and leaves are wrapped in clay, the cookbook's lore blurb replaces that with salt. To be honest when I heard it was wrapped in pungent leaves and clay/salt, I was thinking something akin to banana leaves or something of the sort. The working recipe however uses thyme and rosemary, herbs. Which is an understandable and accessible swap, however the conversion of clay to a salt crust confuses me as there are casserole dishes, terracotta dishes, and other cookware means to replicate the "clay" wrapping while cooking in an oven. Especially considering the recipe calls for 4.5-6.5 lbs (2.04-2.95 kg) of salt I think a cookware swap would have been more economical. That said I do love a good salt crusted fish.

Fish Pocket Though referred to as fish wraps by The Iron Bull in DAI, these are the same dish. The lore blurb says that they learned this recipe from the Bull's Chargers. Which would imply the working recipe is roughly the same. However in the game Bull describes it as fish wrapped in thin bread. The working recipe has these more akin to a hand pie or pasty, wrapping the store-bought salmon filet in pizza dough with minimal seasoning of salt, parsley, pepper, shallot, and egg.

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding This recipe first debuted in Origins thanks to Mary Kirby and Sheryl Chee. It is in reference to the original weight watcher recipe and also the secondary example as to why the recipes likely aren't canon outside of the lore blurbs. The recipe in-game and the cookbook lore blurb calls for celery, eggs, mackerel and onion. The in game recipe also calls for Antivan pepper (Thedas replacement for cayenne), green pepper, mustard, salt, mace, cardamom seed and specifies the mackerel is to be poached. The working recipe calls for potatoes, smoked mackerel, butter, eggs, black pepper, and ground nutmeg. An entirely different dish for obvious reasons, as this dish was a play on a weight watchers recipe.

Found Cake First introduced in Origins and described very little aside from how it had likely seen better days as well as having mabari spittle on it. Something the lore blurb of the cookbook references. A new aspect of this cake coming from the cookbook is that it is a chocolate cream variety topped with white frosting and strawberries. Much like the item icon in Origins, though it should be noted the item icon is also shared with the sugar cake. As far as the working recipe, it's simple and sounds delicious.

Goat Custard This one is technically introduced in Inquisition, however it is not a desert custard but a savory one. It's actually not a custard at all but a broiled goat head. So, a very big switch up! I do enjoy this recipe as a whole though, from the wonderful short lore blurb to the rather simple recipe.

The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew Previously only mentioned on a loading screen of DA2, this stew in the lore blurb is kept the same. A mysterious meat stew made every day, but not knowing what exact type of meat you might be eating. Personally, I find the working recipe in the cookbook too elaborate for a tavern that is known for its ill-reputable clientele and is described as smelling of sour ale, vomit, and desperation. The working recipe calls for olive oil, onion, garlic, pancetta, ground pork, tomato paste, dry red wine, kidney beans, diced tomatoes, canned corn, red bell pepper, chili pepper, bay leaves, allspice berries, clove, salt, pepper, paprika, caraway, oregano, sugar, lemon, and parsley for garnish.

Heath Cakes Another recipe that debuted in the World of Thedas Volume 2 under 'The Whole Nug' section on page 295. It also notes that it is traditionally made with halla butter but can be substituted with goat or cow butter, same as in World of Thedas. Hearth cakes are noted to be "common Dalish fare".

Lamb and Pea Stew This was a stew first mentioned in Origins and has been jokingly referred to since, even in the cookbook. Alistair's version of this dish is a uniform grey colour that leaves Leliana unable to discern that there was even lamb in the stew. Though the cookbook calls this King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew, it is clear in the lore blurb that Alistair's opinions on Fereldan cooking is incorrect save for throwing it in a large pot. Overall the working recipe is fairly basic; potatoes, oil, onions, ground lamb, tomato paste, beef stock, canned peas and carrots, pepper, paprika, butter, cream, nutmeg, cheese, and thyme. However instead of a stew, this working recipe instructs you in what would better be described as a casserole. Which isn't the first time that the cookbook deviates so strongly from the dish name or even lore description.

Llomerryn red Mentioned in the recipe for Merrill's Blood Soup and is another recipe that debuted in the World of Thedas Volume 2 under 'The Whole Nug' section on page 286.

Nug Pancakes A dish first mentioned in Origins along with the famed nug-gets. A recipe, unfortunately only referenced in the cookbook. Over all the gist of these is the same and the working recipe itself takes on a more developed and savory path than one would expect for something deemed to be a child's favorite. And by that I simply mean it is a high effort meal that I couldn't really see being served regularly outside of Orzammar's upper castes of nobles, royals, and warriors. As in Orzammar such spices as sugar, coriander, cumin, spicy hungarian paprika, chili powder, and the like would all be expensive surface imports.

Peasant Bread Originally shown in the novel Masked Empire as Michel de Chalon watches the Dalish make it for their midday meal and reminds him of his mother making it. Like the novel, the lore in the cookbook keeps the basic ingredients the same, a simple recipe of wheat, salt, and grease. The difference between the novel and cookbook lore is their chosen topping, Michel's mother would top his slice with sugar and the cookbook suggests butter and jam. The working recipe however, calls for an alternative of active dry yeast, flour, sugar, milk, egg yolks, and butter.

Pickled Eggs Another recipe that debuted in the World of Thedas Volume 2 under 'The Whole Nug' section on page 285. It is also noted to be a popular Fereldan tavern food and cure all. The difference in tone between the two recipes is 'The Whole Nug' is written by an Orlesian and views the recipe with distaste, and the cookbook's narrator is Fereldan and speaks with a fondness. The recipe itself differs in that the World of Thedas calls for sugar, salt, vinegar, water, and boiled and peeled eggs while the cookbook - which notes it is providing a base recipe that you can customize - lists onion, bay leaf, allspice berries, cloves, mustard seed, peppercorns, dried chili pepper, caraway, water, sugar, salt, white wine vinegar, and eggs. It also suggest alternative herbs and spices such as rosemary, tarragon, dill, thyme, and curry or to include aromatics like beets, bell peppers, squash, and garlic. Overall, this is one of my favorite working recipes for how its formatted and how it encourages more openly with trying different seasonings. Though, I think the World of Thedas recipe is better as a "base" to build from. So if you do want to experiment, I think reducing to those basic 5 ingredients and building from there is the best way to go about it.

Roasted Cave Beetles Previously mentioned in the Dragon Age Tabletop RPG (TTRPG) in the Buried Pasts adventure, the dwarves eat the beetles in the shell after roasting them.

Roasted Wyvern This is an Orlesian and Avvar favored meal item, mentioned in Da2 and in World of Thedas Vol. 2. There really wasn't much description on the method of roasting, seasoning or anything. So there really was a lot of room to play with this. One thing I found curious was that they use turkey legs in the working recipe for wyvern meat. It is an interesting choice and one likely made due to the size of a turkey leg, as you can't necessarily make turkey steaks like the wyvern steak mentioned in the Rusted Horn.

Sera's Yummy Corn Another recipe that debuted in the World of Thedas Volume 2 under 'The Whole Nug' section on page 295. It was written in her hand and displayed as if it was slipped in. Like in the lore burb of the cookbook, it is specified that the corn used has to be yellow and "not that weirdly checkered stuff". That it needed to be "cake-hot, not forge-hot" and it required no pot or wrap, simply "steal-heat-peel". However, in contrast to both of those, the working recipe of the cookbook makes what would be a humble and delicious snack a little more. Introducing herb butter composed of parsley, chives, clove, red onion, butter, ground mustard, and has you boil the corn (it suggests pre-cooked?) in milk and sugar, before you grill or broil it and top it with chili pepper rings.

Smoked Ham from the Anderfels There really isn't much to say about this famous gag in Dragon Age. First mentioned in the dlc Mark of the Assassin, we get the first idea of what exactly is on this ham in the cookbook lore book. It comes with different glazes, Devon's favorite being a glaze composed of apples and apricots.

Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie Originally mentioned in Dragon Age 2 and later in Dragon Age Inquisition, this dish is spoken to be both Sebastain Vael and Samson's favorite dish. It is a recipe that appeared in the World of Thedas Volume 2 under 'The Whole Nug' section on page 283. The working recipe in the cookbook vs The Whole Nug differs a fair bit. To start, the amount of ingredients between the two, the cookbook having 23 and The Whole Nug having 15. I couldn't really compare the two in which I would prefer, but I do have a leaning towards The Whole Nug due to it being more adaptable as well as being intentionally anchored in-world.

Stuffed Vine Leaves These were first depicted in the comic Deception, where they are in a tavern in Tevinter and in the background you see someone eating what looks like dolmas or stuffed grape leaves.

Sugar Cake Another Origins item, this cake is described as being a simple pound cake dressed in strawberries and sugar-cream icing. However, the lore blurb and the working recipe directly contradict this. The lore blurb describes it as a humble mixture of butter, sugar, and almonds. Then, directly references a line from the origins item description about how it is "the perfect pick-me-up after a long day of travel." They seemed to have given the cream icing and the strawberries to the aforementioned found cake and turned this into a simple pound cake with almond topping. Which works well enough, however I think if they swapped the names on the two recipes they would make more sense. The working recipe calls for such little sugar, I didn't quite get as much sweetness as one would expect from such a cake.

Turnip and Mutton Pie Previously mentioned in Inquisition on the Rusted Horn's menu in Crestwood, this is another recipe with more play for the cookbook as the game only offers the detail that such a dish is worth 3 coppers. The lore blurb in the cookbook makes it sound like a humble and filling dish as well as describing it as a double crusted pot pie versus just a top crust. Which is what the working recipe gives you. Which isn't surprising and is of little consequence one way or the other, especially considering that the working recipe is for an 11-inch (27.94cm) pie.

Drink Recipes

All of my opinions on the alcoholic drinks is that they should have had a mocktail version, and if not all a good chunk of them would have worked well as mocktails.

Another opinion of mine that you will see pretty regularly is that most of these drinks have listed ingredients in lore and are usually remarked on in the lore blurbs. But the working recipes are so far removed it is rather jarring. Which circles back to my previous opinion of the fact they could have made these mocktails.

Antivan Sip-Sip Introduced in Inquisition, there is no official ingredient list for this one. Simply this description: "Careful, this one's mean. Attic-raised mean. Popular among highborn who wish to seem dangerous, but more at home grasped by the neck by those who actually are." A description that is vaguely referenced in the lore blurb. As far as the working recipe goes, it's simple coconut rum, Jägermeister, and pineapple juice. Honestly, it could be a mocktail but I don't think it's really a missed opportunity here that it wasn't unlike some of the others.

Chasind Sack Mead Described in Origins as "A brutishly strong honey liquor, reminiscent of warm summer days, apple blossoms on the wind with an unexpected aftertaste of father going off to war, never to return. Bitter, to say the least." The lore blurb makes another poetic description in the same vein where it is more akin to the changing of the seasons; "First, there's a near-overwhelming rush of honey, tinged with the sour-sweetness of apple blossoms, that fills the mouth with all the bright warmth of a summer's day. But as the initial sweetness fades, there comes an unexpected bitterness, reminiscent of the slow decay into fall, then winter." They're both distinct and evoke a certain flavour profile to the mind. Now I likely won't be making this at any time, so I cannot speak to how well the working recipe captures that flavour. But the ingredients it lists vaguely evoke the potential of it in theory of what I know for these ingredients. It calls for apple juice (unfiltered), pure culture brewer's yeast, water, honey, St. John's wort, meadowsweet, verbena, and kieselsol.

Dragon Piss This one is interesting because while it has this description in Origins: "The name is probably figurative, but no one knows for sure." It actually has its first draft of a recipe from a twitch stream where the recipe is "1oz light rum, 1 oz dark rum, fill with iced tea". The cookbook recipe is a far departure from that, as it calls for raspberry brandy, sparkling wine, and blue curaçao liqueur; as well as lighting it on fire. The main spectacle of this drink is that it is lit on fire. I think the twitch recipe is a good foundation of a mocktail as well as sticks more visually to the name. Could have been a mocktail.

The Emerald Valley This cocktail from Inquisition is a recipe from The Gilded Horn like many on this list. But for this drink, it calls for: a spirit distilled by Chantery sisters in Lydes from over seventy herbs and flowers, topped with egg-white foam and dusted with nutmeg. A rather specific spirit to say the least. So much so the lore blurb for this drink is only two sentences long and focuses on that. Meanwhile the working recipe calls for ice cubes, bourbon, herb liqueur, simple syrup, heavy whipping cream, egg yolk, and freshly grated nutmeg. The only overlap between the two is the nutmeg dusting. I do wonder why they went with bourbon and made what is in essence eggnog with less spices. The shift from egg-white foam topper to what seems like would have been a good herb infused liqueur or an herbal simple syrup and making it akin to a mule or mojito. If they really wanted to keep with the strong herbal taste a St. Germain would have been a good base to build off of. Could have been a mocktail.

The Golden Nug From Inquisition, this recipe from The Gilded Horn calls for effervescent (fizzy) white Seleney wine, dash of West Hill Brandy, and a splash of pomegranate juice, muddled with raspberries and a sprig of royal elfroot. The lore blurb also specifies all this but the royal elfroot and describes the drink of having a pinkish hue. The working recipe however calls for ice cubes, grapefruit juice, gin, tonic water, and rosemary for garnish. A departure from the fizzy white wine and brandy combo with pomegranate and raspberries. If they were going to keep it alcoholic, I think a better swap would have to keep everything but swap the white wine for tonic water and making this a brandy and tonic based cocktail with pomegranate and raspberries vs a grapefruit gin and tonic and still achieve a soft pink look. Could have been a mocktail.

The Hissing Drake In-game recipe from The Gilded Horn which includes: cinnamon-infused whiskey, dark Llomerryn rum, Hirol's Lava Burst. Two of those three recipes are pretty easy to find here, and the Hirol's Lava Burst which "tastes of burning" would have been replaced with a high-proof alcohol and/or mixing in hot sauce or garnishes with spice - as it does in the working recipe. However the working recipe amounts to a bloody mary, having: Lemon juice, salt, vodka, tomato juice, tabasco, worcestershire sauce, pepper, sea salt, celery rib, pickle, spiced jerky. Coupling the working recipe with the lore blurb, it feels a little weird to have a drinking contest with bloody marys. But, people can and do have weird choices for drinking contests. Could have been a mocktail.

Hot Chocolate Bull's personal mission in Inquisition, making cocoa with Orlesian guimauves. Overall the working recipe is fine, it is a simple cup of cocoa and they even direct you on how to whip your own whipped cream.

Lichen Ale First mentioned in Origins, this ale is known to be toxic to everyone who drinks it but non-dwarves especially. Something the lore blurb stresses heavily while noting that they made changes to remove the risk and fear of poisoning. Overall, a pretty straight-forward and fun piece. Just looking at the recipe and the things with substitutes I deem it: Could have been a mocktail. Especially because it could have been fun to have recipes for making your own Kahlùa.

Rivaini Tea Blend First introduced in The Masked Empire novel as a favored tea of Empress Celene, its listed ingredients were cinnamon, ginger, and clove. However the lore blurb for this recipe creates a whole new mixture of peppermint, lemon verbena, oregano, and licorice root, then cites the blend as the one that Celene drinks to alleviate her headaches. I'm not too sure why the change in that, but it is noteworthy. The working recipe itself calls for: peppermint, lemon verbena, oregano (flowers and leaves), mixed edible flowers (elderflower, mallow, and marigold), licorice root, vanilla bean, black tea, and honey. Overall it is a good and tasty mix, but one I would not be taking for headaches. If we followed Celene's reasoning for it - an aid for headaches, a better bet would actually be the original recipe as ginger and clove can help with headaches and migraines. Peppermint can as well, but the addition of the various floral notes as well as black tea and vanilla bean wouldn't. Not that the cookbook is necessarily providing the recipe for that purpose.

Lore and General Notes

In the recipe for nug pancakes, it notes that the taste of nug meat is akin to that of pork and rabbit, which is different from the pork and hare approximation from Origins.

The Jade Ham we see as a weapon in Inquisition is a smoked ham from the Anderfels with a specific glaze.

We've heard very little of Anderfels agriculture and animal husbandry prior to the cookbook. Save that they have apples that are small and bitter and largely import dried fruits. The cookbook introduces the fact that pig farming does profoundly well in the Anderfels, resulting in bigger pigs and by extension hams.

The cookbook introduces for the first time the existence of international connoisseurs as well as sharing just how widespread the use of goat milk is, seemingly more prevalent than cattle.

Chasind Sack Mead recipe mentions Chasind Wildwine, an ale that was originally only mentioned in the TTRPG and is made from a specific type of grain native to Ferelden called ryott.

Short Summary of Opinion

Overall my general opinion on the cookbook is that the lore elements are fun and I enjoy the references and nods to the series. The photos are very campy and fun, and doesn't take itself too seriously and also builds on nods towards the series through merch references. I feel like the cookbook is a solid 5/10 and I'm not really disappointed in it. It was more than what I expected and had the thing I was most excited and hopeful for: food and culture lore.

But I'm sure if you've read this far, my main issue with this cookbook, and something that is wholly a personal preference from my own work in this area as well as an opinion built from my other game/franchise cookbooks like World of Warcraft, Dnd, Critical Role, and Elder Scrolls being some of my favorites.

But I find the disconnect in the recipe description, recipe name, and lore blurbs from the actual working recipes a sizable detractor. I personally am not a fan of it simply telling you to get store bought ingredients - like the hollandaise sauce which is a simple recipe - instead of providing that recipe and suggesting the store bought as an alternative. A preference that comes from my own dietary restrictions meaning half of the "just buy store bought" requires me to look up a separate recipe elsewhere. Leading the book to feel a touch incomplete.

I also stated before in the drink section just how much it doesn't sit well that there aren't any mocktails and your only non-alcoholic options are tea and hot cocoa. I think they could have really explored that more and developed some really fun and inclusive drinks for those who don't/can't drink alcohol.

I also noticed, that this publisher who does a majority of game franchises or just media franchise cookbooks, is that they didn't have one of my favorite things about the Elder Scrolls cookbook, which was the Dietary Considerations chart. It was in the back of the cookbook and the chart had every recipe that fell in one or multiples of the following categories:

Vegetarian

Vegan

Gluten-free

Easily made vegetarian, vegan, or gluten-free with simple alterations

The fact that the Dragon Age cookbook didn't have this was disappointing to say the least and makes this rather inaccessible for people with such needs. I also have just a general distaste for the fact that all but 2 of the 9 drink recipes were alcoholic. That there was no attempt to offer mocktails, which not only feels like a missed opportunity but also just a limiting one on accessibility when it's pretty clear that working recipes are not mirrors to their in universe counterparts.

A big thing for me in modern cookbooks is accessibility, from difficulty, to ability to add alterations, and actually putting efforts into non-alcoholic drinks that aren't just hot chocolate or a tea blend (though I do like that they did a tea blend.)

This book is definitely more for a fan who wants to look into a fun recipe every now and then but mostly was there for the lore blurbs and just the sort of fan service of it.

#dragon age #tastes of thedas #dragon age tastes of thedas #da: tot #world of thedas #da: wot #masked empire #dragon age origins #dao #dragon age 2 #da2 #long post #meta #I know I picked this to the road and back. But I have feelings about making food inclusive as possible.#Also it is 2023 not considering dietary restrictions or making mocktails is... Well I got feelings about that #As for the changes in recipe ingredients from lore. Some I do get because legal reasons and recipe copyright is a murky mess.#But considering they took recipes donated by the devs. And all the work they did within the cookbook #they likely wouldn't have had any trouble using recipes with ingredient lists from the game. Not only is this transformative enough #but if they developed them just from the ingredient lists they would have been their own recipes. you can't copyright ingredients folks.#I genuinely have questions about why they made the changes they did and why the cookbook has so many store-bought or canned specifications.

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minyare2906 · 1 year

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[RELEASE] HANAKOI TSURANE CH57

Title: Hanakoi Tsurane | Dance of Love | 花恋つらね

Author/Artist: Natsume Isaku Rating: +18

Summary: The self-destructive type, Sougorou is the heir of one of the well-known families in Kabuki world. He has no interests in other actors his age with the exception of Gensuke who he recognizes as his rival and never wants to lose to no matter what. However, fate plays a cruel trick on him and the two of them end up as classmates… How will their relationship develop…?!

Chapter 57 Download/Read online: Here

Note: Hello!! How are you all doing?

The end of the year is so close, right? I don’t know if we’ll have another release before that, as the digital release of chapter 58 could be around the 14th of December as it’s around a month after the physical (but probably later) and, well, we have a life and those times are busy irl, as you may all know.

Taking advantage of this chapter’s release, I stand by what I said: Tsutamaru needs a spin-off!! He’s such a great potential lead character. Either with Take-nii or with some new character, he deserves his own manga (with guest appearances of the lovebirds, of course). I hope sensei really has that as a possible idea when she puts an end to Hanakoi. Plus, that’ll mean more Kabuki-stories and more Oni-grandpa showing up sometimes! Oh, and if you’re interested in the play featured in this chapter and the previous, check this link: https://www.kabuki21.com/benten_kozo.php. The complete story is even more interesting than the summary that sensei has written.

Anyway, is there someone cuter and more goreous than Sougo?!! He can even make the usually "hard nut to crack" Tsutamaru blush!! And that first page, in full colour... I think he's my favourite uke in all of sensei's stories.

BTW, I don’t know if you know (maybe not all of you), but you’ll see it in this chapter, Ameiro Paradox will have a live action adaptation!! It’ll be aired on the 15th, go to sensei’s twitter (@isakuna) if you want to see the actors that will bring them to life, they’re cute!! Aaaah, if we could get a Hanakoi one…

Thanks to Adamay for taking the time to explain the meaning of all the original sentences so we can understand where it goes, to Toshirodragon for going over them and wracking her brains to find the better and easier way to deliver every part, to @rosesquadscans for allowing us to use their scans (and for taking the time to make me understand the original release dates)

And, as always, to all of you beloved readers for stopping by and enjoying this wonderful story! See you!

PS: I posted this wrongly in the Hanakoi reader tumblr, so you may get a notification that takes you nowhere, as I've immediately deleted it...

@cm-scans - @ikahomine

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDIT: I made a tiny mistake in page 8, Adamay just pointed it out and I didn't notice because, well, I'm clumsy. But it's nothing major, I just forgot to erase the layer with the original text I use as guide when typesetting in page 8. The correct page is now uploaded ;)

#Hanakoi Tsurane #Natsume Isaku #CM Scans #Download #!Hanakoi Tsurane #Min manga edits

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ignify-caligo · 1 year

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[COD HEADCANONS III]

note: here’s the 2/3 I was talking about in the last post - apparently managed to squeeze them in without issues. On a side note; I would love to get some prompts/requests for headcanons to write - like im over heels in CODland and I can’t get out lmao.

previous posts: I - II

————————————————————————————

There’s not even a doubt that Bell was a feral raccoon on crack before the MK-ULTRA project took full swing. Scratches, bitemarks and even strained wrists because of holding Bell down were common occurrences throughout the first sessions. Bell wouldn’t hesitate to bite down hard enough to rip the flesh from the bone - Adler had to frequently check himself for symptoms of infection after spending time with Bell.

Ghost’s favourite cat breed is the Sphinx, followed closely by its related breeds like Devon Rex. He finds them amusing and intriguing - Soap teases and jokes about it actually being that they remind him of naked chickens.

Truth be told - Ghost loves hearing stories about how these cats are walking furnaces, he would do anything to cuddle with one whenever he feels his hands going frigidly cold.

Ghost would silently weep behind his mask if someone dropped a fluffy and/or small creature in his lap and the little one would snuggle itself to him without hesitation.

Roach watches channels like Animal Planet or National Geographic religiously - loves to tease Ghost every time a black cat pops up on the “My Cat from Hell” tv shows. He ends up immediately pointing to the screen, signing “LT, it’s you :)”

Price is the ultimate boss of naptimes at 141 HQ. One rule that everyone follows: Never wake a sleeping Price if you wish to continue living. Soap disregards this and ends up on several hours of drill exercises, either doing them or watching the recruits. That’s the mildest form of punishment in the Sergeant’s opinion.

Gromsko had wondered for quite some time when he began working with the 141 task force: what was Roach actually called after. Was it the fish, the bug or the fictional horse from the polish fantasy book series he read when he was younger? He felt awkward about asking anyone for help to explain it to him.

Bell hates anything that relates to smoking. After the Duga ending and the reunion with Perseus, Bell would avoid anyone that even slightly smelled of smoke. Perseus catching on to the trauma response quickly changed his demeanour and stopped smoking around Bell. He recommended doing the same to everyone closely working with him and Bell - the consequences of disobeying his command wouldn’t be worth it. Especially having in mind that fingers are quite important and shouldn’t be put through a hard time of being twisted beyond recognition.

On the other hand, we got Adler: He would take a grand piss at Bell’s discomfort. “Don’t you want a small drag, Bell?” or “What’s with that face, Bell? It’s just a stupid smoke, nothing to be prissy about.”

König during his downtime at the KorTac HQ happened to befriend a small murder of crows. Sharing a tad bit of nuts and other snacks between them on a daily basis, turned out at some point to collecting payments from those corvids. From small shells and rocks to ending up with a small amount change of the local currency, at first, he felt bad about the apparent fact he taught his feathered friends to steal.

Other than that though, he’s quite content with taking the small trinkets to use as part of his artistic projects. From using pebbles, twigs and shells as part of his dioramas or making his own paint based on flowers or other pigmented objects.

Soap made tea once for Ghost before he knew about how he actually preferred it. When he gave it to him and Ghost took a sip, the first thing leaving his mouth was; “Johnny, this isn't a bloody cuppa tea but a sugar-induced coma with a side dish of high blood pressure.”

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saturnite0614 · 1 year

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I did another fun cod one shot full of angst and things that will make people hate me :) It's based on a twitter post

important tags/TW: major character death and graphic depictions of violence

Soap bites his lip, staring at Ghost over his lunch.

"So this Friday works for you?"

Ghost pushes around the various pieces of fruit on his tray, "You'll know if something comes up."

"So it's a date then." Soap leans forward into Ghost's personal space, the first purposeful breach between them.

"I guess it is."

"Does that mean I get to see your face?"

"You've seen it." Just once and only for a few small seconds. Even now seeing half of it isn't enough. The black fabric is pulled over his nose, allowing him to eat.

"Can't make an exception for a date?"

Ghost chews a soggy slice of peach before leaning in to meet Soap. Their noses brush together, making his heart leap directly into his brain and slamming into his eyes like a cartoon character. Might as well say "awooga" as he drinks in Ghost's brown eyes.

"Not a first one."

"Does that mean there will be more?" Soap perks up.

Ghost’s eyes flick across his face, tracing various parts of him. When previous partners did it, he shirked away, feeling his self-esteem plummet. "Depends how well you treat me. After all, you asked me."

"Is my character in question?"

"Maybe. You're coming off awfully insecure, Johnny."

"Naw, I'm a brave lad. Had the courage to sit here and ask."

Soap slammed his tray down. "Go on a date with me."

Ghost looked up, "What?"

"Romantic. Date. You. Me."

"We'll save the rest of the questions for Friday." He pulls his mask down, "I've got reports to file, as I'm sure you do."

He did, but it's not like he'd be able to focus knowing that in 32 hours, he'd be going on a date with The Ghost. Who said "yes" with very little argument or convincing. He's obviously off his nut asking his superior on a date while on duty and while on base, but he couldn't help it, not when the man was practically haunting his peripheral vision. It nagged at him – the jokes and flirting shared between them and especially the time Ghost spent bent over him, treating the bullet wound in his arm. Part of this fuzzy feeling buzzing in his teeth and nose might be from hero worship, but part of him urged him to shoot his shot. Soap's intuitive. He has to be in his line of work and his gut told him to throw himself in the sea to show Ghost that out of all the fish out there, Soap was one of them. This urge was so strong, it hadn't even occurred to him until after the words left his mouth that Ghost might not like men or masc people in general, both of which applied to Soap.

Ghost stands with his tray in hand, perfectly balancing the remaining food on it with cat-like grace. Soap bolts to follow him, leaving his own untouched tray behind. He steps in front of the lieutenant, putting them nose to nose again.

"Can I kiss you?" His teeth clack together in jittery excitement.

The painted skin around Ghost's eyes crinkle in a smile, Soap had come to learn. "Excited aren't we?"

"Damn right I am. Aye."

"It's almost cute," Ghost looks him up and down again, "But I'll have to decline. Have to save something for our date."

Our date. Soap would never get over that phrase, especially with Ghost's rough accent.

"I'd call you a tease but I should have expected that."

Ghost may deny the kiss, but he does pat Soap's arm, touching the space closer to his neck than his bicep. Soap shivers, a response that Ghost notes with a twitch of a light mussed eyebrow.

Oh, Soap was down bad.

—

Soap made an effort to dress…nice? They weren't leaving base, just heading out to the training range to fire some rifles and share some beers. A soldier's version of breakfast and coffee. But Soap had dug around for a button-up that had somehow made it into his duffle the last time he went on leave. It’s wrinkled as shit, making his large form more boxy than tapered. At the last minute, he pulls it out of his waistband where he’d tucked it into his jeans.

He’s standing outside the barracks waiting for Ghost. They’d walk to the shooting range together, like kids going to a dance. Would they hold hands? He asks himself in a mocking voice. Fucking stupid.

The barrack door opens and Ghost stands there wearing his signature look – mask, heavy jacket, thick black cargo pants. He hadn’t made a visible effort. Ghost’s eyes widen as he takes in the button-up and clean jeans. Soap had even scraped the mud off his boots. He swallows.

“You look…good?” Ghost shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks.” They both look at their shoes, shuffling in their respective places.

“Want to get going?” He gestures with his elbow towards the shooting range.

“Gladly.” Soap holds up a six-pack, “Want one?”

Ghost slips two glass bottles from the cardboard container. Almost impossibly, he grasps both caps with one hand and pops them both off with a carbonated hiss. Then he gifts one to Soap. They clink them together as the brown liquid inside bubbles to the top.

They walk in silence, only sipping at their respective drinks. Ghost doesn’t lift his mask above his nose this time, instead holding it away from his mouth as he nurses the beer.

There’s no one around them. Everyone else is preparing to turn in for the night – eating last minute meals, taking cold showers, losing money and clothes in poorly thought out card games. The latter is probably what Gaz and Price would be doing, although they’d be winning and they wouldn’t let Soap forget that he missed it.

If the rest of the night continued on like this, he just might agree with them.

They’re about halfway done with their first drinks once they get to the range. The lights are on, glowing yellow against the cool summer night. They light little warm pools along their paths. A rain had come through a few days ago, and still the dirt beneath their feet rests sodden, holding on their journey and the paths taken by others. The grass around the edges is bright green, hanging heavy with dew. He’s regretting the white shirt right about now.

“So,” Ghost pulls his mask back down, “A competition or just friendly shooting?”

“We can do both.” Soap looks around and spots some far off targets. A sniper’s range.

“You’re a sniper expert, right?” Soap takes a deep drink of his beer.

Ghost hums, “Last time I checked both of us where.”

“Damn straight. Come on.” They drop their drinks by the range then head inside the nearby building. Soap grins sheepishly at the soldier still on duty, stuck on the night shift. They check out some rifles and ammo.

Soap takes his time loading his own weapon, watching Ghost do the same with deft hands, working quickly. Soap could probably match his speed if he weren’t so distracted. They’re sitting on the damp grass with their weapons in their laps. Ghost checks his scope, holding the gun with one hand and sipping at his drink with the other. Allowing himself to stare at Ghost’s hands. They’re strong for sure, but a bit knobby. His knuckles are large, probably coming from years of abuse. The scarred skin ripples like a wave with every shift of his muscles. The scars seem to grow and shrink. Soap’s own hands are incredibly scarred but some of the ones on Ghost’s hands look bigger and deeper. They weren’t the results of mere accidents or slip ups.

He wants to know.

Ghost flips onto his stomach and aims his sights down range.

“Wait,” Soap touches his shoulder, “We haven’t decided what we’re shooting for.”

He pulls the level back, “One clip. Most amount of headshots is winner.”

“What do they win?” Soap joins him, pressing their shoulders together. If they hadn’t already agreed that this was an actual date, he wouldn’t allow this for himself. He would have put more distance between themselves. Ghost stiffens, only perceptible because they’re touching. He relaxes a moment later. It’s so quick that Soap questions whether it’d actually happened.

“Guess I’ll decide when it happens.” He squeezes the trigger, exhaling in a foggy puff of breath. The target down range wobbles. “1-0.”

“Bastart.” Soap takes his shot.

—

Ghost wins, but he cheated. He’d watched Soap with those doe brown eyes of his every shot he took. They were still lethal, but not headshots. They sit criss-crossed, both on their third beers, looking up at the sky with their weapons abandoned between them.

Soap holds his bottle with two hands, mouthing the rim. “Did you have fun?”

Ghost looks at him eyes first, then tilts his head down. “I did.”

“I feel like we haven’t done much.”

He looks down at his drink, swirling it around. “Do you have to?”

Soap shrugs, “You just do stuff on dates.”

“Guess I’m not great company.” He mumbles, bringing his knees up to rest his arms on.

“What do you mean?” Soap drops his hands to his lap.

“What do you even like about me?” Ghost squints, as if it were sunny and bright out and not the middle of the night. His voice is low.

“Lots of things?” He can’t help the uplit to his voice, confused more as to why he’s asking the question versus confused at how to answer it.

Ghost sips his beer, still hiding behind his mask. Seemed he only lifted it to eat.

Soap crawls his way over, staining his jeans green. He presses their arms together again, “You’re smart in a book smart way, like you’re always three steps ahead. You’re strong as hell. Not sure if you noticed how red my face gets when we spar.”

Ghost looks at his feet again. Even with his face completely covered, Soap knows he’s blushing. His shoulders hunch and the skin on the back of his hand turns red. Soap gently reaches over, placing his hand on top of Ghost’s. He doesn’t do as far to actually hold it.

“Against my better judgement, I think you’re funny. Not your jokes, but the way you can’t keep yourself from laughing at them. It’s cute.” Soap swallows, “I like how you keep me curious. I want to know more about you.”

“That’s why you asked me out?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t know if I can give you that.”

“It doesn’t have to be the deep stuff. It could just be small things like hobbies or what you do on leave. Those are a part of you too. And there’s time. Like those other dates you alluded to.”

Ghost holds his bottle up, examining the contents again, as if they’d changed in the few minutes since he opened it. It’s his substitute for eye contact. “I want to know more about you too.”

Soap can't help the smile, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his now burning neck.

—

"This is me," Soap stops in front of his room. Ghost knows damn well where they are, he's just always wanted to say it, and finally saying it has his joints locking in place with a fuzzy excitement.

Ghost rolls his eyes, hiding his red hands in his pockets again. "Glad I was able to see you safely home."

"A good way to end the night."

Ghost raises an eyebrow, "Only good?"

"Aye," Soap fiddles with his keys, just to give him something to do while he figures out his best approach. "I recall a question I asked you a few days ago. That might clue you in to the missing piece."

Ghost leans against the door frame, "Really? You've been watching too many movies."

"Oh piss off." Soap scoffs, shoving his room key in the lock.

"Giving up that easily?"

Of course he had to taunt him. Soap looks up at him before turning the key, "If you're just going to make fun of me, then yeah."

Ghost looks off to the side. "Thought I was being cheeky."

"Right cheeky."

"Hey," Ghost taps his chin with a strong finger, bringing Soap's gaze back to him, "Night's not over till we agree it is. So say what you want to."

Soap looks him up and down, focusing on the hand still touching his chin. He swallows.

"Can I kiss you?" Soap's voice scratches through his throat, hoarse and…nervous.

Ghost smiles underneath his mask. "Surprised you held off this long."

He leans in and first, only their noses touch and they breathe each other in – fresh gunpowder, hot metal, and stake beer. Soap's eyes are locked on Ghost's but his date's eyes flick all around his face, like they always did.

"You're goin' to leave the mask on?" Soap whispers.

Ghost's eyes snap to his, "Which would you prefer?"

Soap can't work his mouth. Can't work any part of him, really. The words form in his mind but fail to find purchase anywhere significant.

Instead his abandons his keys and bring both of his hands to cup Ghost's jaw, gently pressing his thumbs to the softness underneath. His face is soft.

Then he rolls the fabric, only enough to reveal his lips – pink, chapped, and uneven. His top lip is thicker than his bottom, as if he were sucking it in. His chin and jawline are simultaneously round and sharp, at least the parts he could see were. Before he can observe further, Ghost presses in. Or maybe Soap does first. Either way, their lips connect. They slot together nicely, giving way the pressure of the other. Ghost tilts his head, fitting them together in a completely new way. The movement brings the scent of fresh woodsy laundry, almost floral in nature. Ghost had cleaned his mask beforehand, wrenching away the musk of sweat and work.

Soap smiles into the kiss, moving his hand to cup the back of Ghost's head. Ghost's hand moves to rest on his shoulder as he tilts again, pressing their noses together ever so slightly.

He slow blinks when they finally break apart. Ghost flashes him a small smile before fixing his mask.

"You should get some rest, Johnny," Ghost’s voice is pitched slightly higher and he dips his face towards his torso, "We've got early morning drills."

"Yeah." Soap's breathless, negotiating with his lungs to ration what little is left in them. "But, we should also do this again."

"Next Friday work for you? Maybe I'll take you off base." Ghost still isn't looking at him, instead his hands are in his pockets again.

"Yeah. Friday works."

"I'll see you then sergeant." Ghost backs away with a small salute. And Soap watches until he reaches the corner and turns, heading for his own bunk.

"See ya then, Simon.”

—

Soap whistles to himself as he takes out another guard with his trusty rifle. Seemed he rarely got the opportunity to exercise his sniping ability. His skills were on par with Ghost’s but he never got to prove that. It’s why the cocky bastard had won. Another one of Makarov’s guards drops, this time without Soap’s help.

“We still shooting for points?” Ghost asks over comms.

Soap ejects his shell casing, “Only if I’m winning.”

Ghost chuckles.

“Keep it professional you two. Fuck’s sake.” Price chastises just as Gaz says, “Loser buys drinks.”

The eye roll is audible.

It’s all a bit fucked-up. These are human beings they’re ending with just the slightest twitch of their fingers. There is no “but” to excuse it besides making themselves feel better. They all already have enough trouble sleeping at night.

Soap scans around, looking for their two men on the ground. He spots Price and Gaz entering the compound, coast clear for now.

“Shit.” Ghost curses, “Bravo 0-6. I have to go dark. I’ve got tangos in the building.”

Price’s voice crackles to life before Soap can respond, “Rog. Stay safe.”

“Should only take a few seconds.”

“Stay frosty.” Soap whispers into his mic, but there’s already the fuzz of a disconnected comm. His stomach churns and suddenly, the comfortable spot he’d found for overwatch was no longer comfortable. Hard clumps of dirt prod his rigid muscles and rocks scrape at his skin with every small bit of movement. He swings his rifle around, watching Price and Gaz’s approach and seeking out the glint of Ghost’s rifle. He only finds the former.

—

Ghost stays dark the entire rest of the mission. It’s not unusual…per se. He’s used to working alone which means the man has some terrible communication habits. Either he talks too much or too little, not that he’d recognize that without someone telling him.

But Soap’s stomach hadn’t settled. Even though everything went smoothly. Price and Gaz are in and out without anyone being none the wiser. They’d gone through the paths Soap and Ghost had cleared and hid bodies so no one truly noticed anything. That’s the problem with hired mercs, you can’t always trust them to keep their post.

“Bravo 0-6 and 2-6 are at exfil. Bravo 0-7 and 7-1, you are free to leave your posts.” Price is yelling through his comms, fighting the roar of a car engine.

Soap’s response is quieter, “Copy that.”

Both men wait for another response that doesn’t come.

“Bravo 0-7?” Soap asks. This is the part where Ghost is supposed to come in with a cheeky pun.

“Ghost?” Still nothing. “Soap, get to his last known location and get his ass back here. Stubborn bastard.” Price’s voice cracks, “Bravo 0-6 out.”

Soap scrambles to his feet, throwing his rifle over his shoulder and stumbling down the hill. He’s making a shit ton of noise. He really should be taking his time and exercising stealth instead of rampaging like a Spanish Bull. He trips at the bottom, ramming face first into the chain link fence encasing the compound. It wobbles and the sound echoes outwards. With any luck, any remaining soldiers would think an animal was dumb enough to miss the obstruction, like a bird or rodent.

There’s razor wire encircling the top but that doesn’t stop Soap from digging his boots into the fence openings and scaling the damn thing. He slices his arm immediately upon reaching the top, dripping blood onto the dry ground below. His jeans get the same treatment as he throws himself over the fence. Every part of him burns, like he’d been trapped in a tunnel of whirling paper, slicing into his skin from every angle.

He drops down, popping his ankle and stumbling to a standing position.

Ghost’s last known position is locked in his mind. They’d sent him ahead of time to be their inside man. He’d given them entry locations and guard patterns. Soap beelines towards his Ghost. The map he’d studied beforehand comes alive before him and he ducks in and out of buildings, with little regard to his own safety. He turns corners and finally comes across a warehouse, one of the many unused ones in the compound. It was because of this it was supposed to be a good place. Ghost had reported that half the rooms had broken doors and stairs were rusted and falling apart. It simply wasn’t safe for everyday use. Maybe he’d simply fallen and was just waiting for someone to come get him. He’d be fine.

He would be. Fine.

Soap slips in through a broken window, the only act he’d taken to be quiet during this entire endeavour. Going through the wide open loading dock would have been too obvious, even for him. He scans around the ground, looking for any sign that Ghost had fallen. Maybe a broken railing or a left behind piece of equipment. But there’s nothing besides pieces of trash, tumbling gently in the breeze and getting caught in corners.

Soap pulls his pistol out and gently navigates the stairs. There are holes in the rusted metal, making it warp and dip in places where feet had made their mark.

The top is just as bad. The catwalk is pot marked. It's a good thing there's a door to his right, because there is no way he'd make it to the left side without crashing to the concrete floor. If he couldn't, neither could Ghost. How he stayed that big with their diet, he'd never know.

But he would ask and ask, until they were old and feeble because Ghost is fine.

He nudges the door, expecting to find it closed.

It creaks open, the lock broken.

Soap's heart leaps into his throat at the site of the demolished wood on both the door and frame. He touches the dry wood, getting a splinter for his investigative efforts. The elements hadn't yet had time to smooth the damage out.

Soap raises his weapon, creeping forward through the hall. He clears the various offices, finding more broken locks, this carnage much older.

Each empty room is another failed attempt to find Ghost. So, he stops looking at them for clues and instead, the floor beneath his feet.

Brown dust coats everything. It already has settled on his blue jeans, glued there with sweat. It’s on the walls, untouched. But the floor tells a different story. What should paint a clear picture of Ghost’s solitary journey, instead shows a major disruption. It’s practically clear of dust as other people came trudging through.

Bravo 0-6. I have to go dark. I’ve got tangos in the building.

Soap follows the trail, trying to count how many people came through here, but it’s all a jumbled mess of boot prints. Could have just been a handful of people. Could have been a whole fucking squad. But Ghost could handle them, right? He’d be sitting at his perch surrounded by knifed bodies, complaining because his radio broke during the fight. Soap bites his tongue, cementing the image into his mind through pain. The hall opens up into a large office space, cleared of furniture. Like the first door, it’s completely broken in. Completely. The wooden door is flat to the ground and crooked. After that, the first thing he notices is the three bodies on the ground. One still has a knife lodged in the base of his skull, oriented upwards to stab directly into the armoured man’s brain. His sleek black helmet offered no protection to that particular spot. Soap retrieves the knife, earning himself a fresh spirt of blood. He wipes it off on his pants and sheaths it.

The fight had continued on into another room. To the right of the initial door is another one that leads into a hall identical to the first. More concerningly is the biblical smear of blood leading him exactly to the room where the fight finished.

Soap steps around it and the bodies of other well armed men wearing unmarked uniforms. Their tactical vests hadn't been protection against knives. They would have protected against bullets, if there were any guns to supply them. Nobody shows signs of ever having had a weapon.

Soap counts and additional five bodies in the hall and shoved into equally empty offices.

There are boot prints in the bright red smear beneath him. Soap takes a single step into the path then presses his foot down in an empty space, comparing the treads.

Different boots than there's. The size is close to his as well.

Not Ghost's.

He doubles back and compares the treads to the dead bodies he passed.

Every organ falls through him, hollowing him out with a silent snap of fingers. He's a silent puppet, dragged by his own remains to the single office at the end of the hall. His intestines wrap around his wrists and guide him there like a good little soldier marionette, wearing his gun on his back like a prop and dirt smeared across his face.

With a trembling hand, Soap pushes the door open, pressing his palm against a large hand-shaped smear.

The stench of fresh blood conjures familiarity like a mother's perfume. Instead of a full frontal assault, it's a creeping remembrance. The red tendrils wrap around his hands telling him, "We're here together little one. You know what this is."

Another unmarked body lies slumped against the wall, a knife lodged in his mouth. His split lip reveals his white teeth and allows his swollen tongue to peek out.

Soap's gaze moves slowly towards the centre of the room, eyeing a mountain of offal, like a gutted animal. A vest lies off to the piles left, torn off its owner through some great force.

Lying on his back is the owner of the still steaming insides. Brown eyes stare widely at the cracking ceiling, as if enraptured by the fractals of peeling plaster. Red rivulets stream across a skeletal visage quite clearly belonging to him, going off the gouge across his cheek, tearing into black fabric and dragging down across the pale skin of an exposed throat.

Soap drops to his knees, feeling along the mangled neck for a pulse.

"Ghost?" His voice cracks into silence.

There's no startled intake of breath.

There's no blinking.

Or twitching.

There's nothing.

Ghost's hands are splayed at his sides, stripped of his usual skeleton gloves. The palm of his left hand, the same one that had held Soap's shoulder a week before, as a jagged gash across it.

Ghost whips his hand up, catching the blade with his hand. The enemy soldier presses in, unintimidated. The knife slips, slicing across, missing his torso, and finding purchase into his opposite bicep. His hold on the other man slips, allowing a different knife to gouge into his cheek-

Soap grabs the hand, bringing it to rest on Ghost's still chest.

"Simon?" He sets his gun down, feeling around again for a pulse.

He doesn't let go of his hand but he does reach for his radio with bloodied fingers, "Bravo 7-2 to Bravo 0-6. We need CASEVAC."

His hand falls to his side.

"What's his status?" Price's voice crackles to life instantly.

Soap's voice does not. He fully sits on the ground, holding Ghost's hand.

He's probably having trouble breathing with the mask on. It's soaked in blood, more stifling than anything.

Soap peels the sodden balaclava up, revealing those pink uneven lips and surprisingly rounded jawline. Even the knife wound didn't ruin that.

"Soap!"

"Come on Soap." Gaz now.

Soap continues his movements, pulling it over a broken nose -

The dumb ass whips his helmeted head forward, knocking Ghost's head back. They both slam into the wall -

It hadn't had time to bruise.

If there weren’t so fucking many of them -

He reveals Ghost’s blond hair, only partially touched by gore. His hairline is stained red, but otherwise, his choppy hair is marred only by sweat. The knife had drawn across his lip, cutting across the scar already there that Soap had forgotten even existed. He’d kissed it and hadn’t even noticed it. He feels along the years old scar, tracing it along the bump across his nose. For someone who carried himself was a sharpness, every part of him was round. Even his personality, with the jokes he had ready at the drop of a hat and the smiles even his mask couldn’t hide. His eyes crinkle and there are smile lines that guide the blood down the sides of his face.

"Here." Soap pulls Simon's head onto his lap, running his fingers through his hair. "Ground isn't that comfortable."

Ghost is pinned. The fucker who'd busted his nose presses against his throat with a meaty arm, trying his damnedest to stab his knife into his face. His two friends have a hold of his arms -

Soap gathers him up until Simon's head is under his chin. He holds his chest with one hand and with the other, presses his insides back in, holding the sticky oozing mess. It wouldn't do much, but it's better than nothing until the medics arrive.

The guy on his left catches his jaw with his knife again. He jerks away, feeling the blade cut deeply into his face. It cuts across his lip (Johnny kissed him there) down his chin (where his hand had softly thumbed across) nicking his throat. Not nicking. The man slips it across, cutting into cloth and flesh alike (they were one before him). Blood explodes into his mouth, already he struggles to keep his consciousness. But he pushes. He fucking fights and spits it in their fucking faces -

“Soap.” Price’s voice isn’t on his radio anymore. Boots stop, standing next to him. “Fucking hell.” He drops next to him, his hand hovering over Simon’s chest, where Soap has been holding their hands together. He’s waiting for Simon to squeeze it back.

“We need to go.” Gaz’s voice floats towards them. That softness brings a burning wetness to his eyes. He brushes the droplets from Simon’s cheeks. “Do we…” The question lingers.

“We take him with us.” Price reaches for them both, sliding his hands underneath Simon’s shoulders. His head lulls to the side. No conscious reaction on his part. He’d have to spend some time in hospital. Bastard would be bored out of his skull.

Price lifts.

“No, no, no, no, no-”

“Gaz,” Price stops, “take care of Soap.”

“...Right.”

Soap’s friends, rip them apart. He struggles weakly as Gaz lugs him to his unsteady feet. How long had he been sitting there with Simon?

Price settles Simon on the ground and reaches for something in his pack. He pulls out a roll of white bandage. Slowly, he wraps it around the trench in his soldier’s torso. He ties the now red cloth tightly. Price picks him up, placing an arm under his armpits. Simon’s head falls to his chest and his legs hang limp. He’s so small, like a child who’d fallen asleep in the car and Price is his father, bringing him to his room because he doesn’t have the heart to wake him up.

“You’re gonna be alright, Simon.” Soap brushes his shoulder as Price walks by.

—

Simon is afraid.

Eyes wide, he chokes on his own blood. He drowns in it. It’d taken three men, but he truly couldn’t fight back anymore.

There’s no physical fight. His mind goes a million miles an hour.

He’d promised Johnny they’d go on that second date.

(A hand on his face shoves his head into the wall.)

He still hadn’t decided where he would take him.

(Ghost lodges a knife in one man’s face. Two left.)

Maybe an actual dinner. Not that beer and a shooting range were terrible.

(He kicks, knocking one attacker backwards. Ghost follows, stumbling then falling flat on his face.)

He hadn’t been on a date in a long time before him.

(He can’t move. Can’t even see anymore. But he tries. He stumbles to his feet. He meets another knife directly in his gut. It’s not the first time.)

I’m sorry, Johnny.

—

There aren’t many people at the funeral. 141, Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell and her wife, Alex and Farah.

They bury him next to his family. Soap hadn’t known about them. He would have liked to. His mom, his brother, his sister-in-law, his nephew.

There’s a photo with a wreath of flowers. He focuses on the pink carnations, yellow chrysanthemums, and white mountain avens. When Laswell had presented it at the beginning of this shitty day, Soap had laughed, a choking one, but a laugh nonetheless. Had she purposely chosen a Scottish flower to adorn Simon’s visage. And that damn picture – Price’s idea. It’s old and Soap’s never seen it before. It’s cropped from an old one where Simon stands next to price, unmasked, covered in dirt. He’d said it was from their first mission together.

Soap had taped a different picture to it. The one they’d taken in Las Almas hangs off the frame. Simon has his mask, but that’s how he’d known him.

It took three fucking days before Soap bolted up in bed and realised that he’s gone. Even now, watching a casket, paid for by everyone, sink into the ground, doesn’t seem like the truth. Gaz stands by his side, switching between talking too much and not talking at all. He’ll say something, see Soap’s face, then stop, not to speak for another hour or so. And Price, he didn’t say anything at all until a priest Simon definitely never visited steps aside. The captain coughs into his hand. Soap doesn’t hear a word of it. Everything becomes silent until Gaz touches his shoulder. “It’s your turn, mate.”

Right, he was supposed to be speaking. He squeezes the notecards in his hands. He’d written some things. Mainly curses and death threats towards Makarov and himself. He shoves them in his pocket and steps up to the front of the casket. He wipes his nose.

It’s hot as shit out. He sweats through his uniform, wearing chest candy (as Simon liked to calm them. He never wore his even though he had them). Then he adjusts his hat before ripping it off entirely and strangling it in his hands.

“I didn’t know him. None of us did. Except maybe Price,” he nods to him, finally noting the redness surrounding his eyes. He’d planned all this while Soap sat uselessly in an armchair, nursing wounds that never made themselves physical. “But I wanted to. So fucking much,” He bites his hat, failing to stifle the sob. He looks to the photo. Simon’s face, surrounded by bright flowers. He’d never known that man. He wasn’t who they were burying.

“That Friday, we were supposed to go out. Somewhere off base, we hadn’t decided.” Price’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known and they probably weren’t going to tell him and have to deal with all the red tape. Besides, what if it hadn’t gone anywhere? “But sometimes, you just know. I know I wanted to be with him just like he knew he wanted to be here, with us at the 141. And he still is,” Soap points to his breaking chest, where he’d held Simon’s head against him, “As long as we all keep fighting and loving him.”

He’s rambling. So Soap fishes out the notecards. “He’d probably want this. Not the funeral,” he gestures around, “but this. They say time flies like an arrow-” It had for them. One date and that was it. One kiss was all they got. “But fruit flies-” He chokes, coughing into his hand. Everyone watches. He clears his throat again, longing to be able to breathe properly, knowing he could only do it if his lieutenant was still here. “Fruit flies like a banana. Fucking awful.”

Soap steps forward and tucks the notecard into the lid until it disappears.

They put him in the ground after that.

Soap or Simon, he wasn’t sure.

Also shared this on my ao3 (linked above)

Edit: whoever read this when it was doubled up, I love you. I don't know how that happened but now it's fixed.

#call of duty #one shot #fan fiction #ghosp #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #modern warfare 2 #cod #mw2 #archive of our own #ao3 #angst #major character death

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foxingpeculiar · 8 months

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AC6 Blogging:

Behold, for I have vanquished the mighty ice worm! On the third try, too. The first one I restarted cos I was just like… overwhelmed: it’s very hard to track and that stun needle thing does NOT fire quickly. The second time I got blown up once it got to its final stage where it’s going all nuts. Third time was the charm.

Terminal armor is fucking great, by the way. I’ve won multiple fights now (Rusty in the arena; Raven in the campaign) with 00001 AP because of that mod. Still rocking the same build I was before, although 1) I painted it red because I was finding it too hard to take the story seriously with the whole Hello Kitty thing, and 2) post-ice worm, I just got some new bell bottom-lookin’ legs I’m interested to try out. I tried a couple different armaments (including a very snazzy-looking laser rifle), but haven’t found one I like better for the RF slot than the Gatling gun. Gonna try this machine gun though. Also just switched out my booster for the first time in a minute, but have felt no need to fuck with the generator or FCS—my outputs are fine.

Also, breezed through B-rank arena. That one dude was giving me grief the other night, but this afternoon I got through him and everyone else (if by the skin of my teeth, as previously noted) in one try.

Story reflections:

It feels like the pace of the story kicked up a notch in the last few missions. I met (and blew up) a previous Raven, which I suspect is an allusion to the earlier games in the series? But I don’t know. They seem more principled than just about anyone else, so that’s something.

Then there was the journey back into the cave, wherein 2 things stood out to me. 1) The phrase “deploy Ibis,” in response to some kind of “mutation.” Which seems to suggest the whole Fires of Ibis catastrophe wasn’t some kind of accident or natural occurrence—it was intentionally done to destroy something specific. And 2) Learning more about Dolmayan and what his whole deal is. He seems, from the recovered writing, kinda… a few marbles short of a full bag, let’s say, but then again I am also hearing a disembodied female voice, so who am I to say?

It was interesting watching the two corporations and the RaD all come together, and even flatter one another (I’m thinking of that one Red Guns guy trying to convince Rusty to come to the “other side,” that bit). Especially after listening to Ayre talk about Raven (the other one), that ambivalence kind of underlines the whole… unprincipled nature of everyone here. Hired guns following orders from self-interested manipulators, no real consideration of the actual consequences of their actions by anyone. All that. That seems very much at the heart of this game.

I’m still not sure what Ayre means when she describes the Coral as her family. She calls herself a wave in the ocean (or something like that) but like… that’s sort of vague. Whatever she/it is, it’s obviously related to 1) what Dolmayan encountered, 2) whatever was mutating that precipitated Ibis, and 3) whatever it is Walter is actually after here.

The PS5 screen tells me I’m 60% through the game. So we’ll see. And I’ve been told that doing an NG+ run is pretty essential cos there’s different content, so I might zoom through one of those once I’m done.

In other video game news, I’ve got Tears of the Kingdom on deck, I just downloaded Sea of Stars, and I’ve decided to get myself an Xbox and Starfield for my birthday because I’m a grown-ass person and I can afford it. I’ve never had any of the Xboxes, but as I understand it, 1) the Series X is hella backward compatible, and 2) Game Pass is a thing. Which opens up a lot of possibilities.

#personal #video games #armored core 6 #ac6 #xbox series x #starfield #tears of the kingdom

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90363462 · 1 year

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OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

OPINION2 WEEKS AGO

OPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worth

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Started: “I can say anti-Semitic s—- and Adidas cannot drop me,” said Ye (his legal name now) on the Drink Champs podcast earlier this month. Ye had worked with Adidas since 2013 on his Yeezy line of super expensive, super popular sneakers, and thought he was untouchable like most overpaid, over-indulged “artists.”

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Going, as of Tuesday:

“Immediately” in adidas-speak translates to “a couple of weeks of silence after we originally said we’d review our relationship with Kanye because we had a whole lot of money numbers to crunch.” Karma comes in various guises, and she often travels with her equally stealthy pal, schadenfreude. What you put out there WILL come back to you, even if it does take adidas a full nineteen days to make it happen.

It’s been reported that adidas got an estimated 4% to 8% of its sales from Yeezy products, according to investment bank Cowen. For Ye, it was an even bigger deal, accounting for $1.5 billion of his net worth. But I mean, what’s a Jewish life worth to a sneaker company founded by anti-Semites?

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We’d been seeing accountability for Kanye’s hate speech from plenty of others before adidas finally made its announcement Tuesday morning. Gap, Balenciaga, and Vogue Magazine all announced they were cutting ties with Ye. And now Forbes joins them by dropping him from their Billionaires’ List.

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Hopefully, more artists and sportsball people will end their own relationships with adidas. They only did right by themselves, and the last time I checked, there are other companies that make sneakers and track pants. BYE, YE!

Tara Dublin is a woefully underappreciated and unrepresented writer currently shopping a super cool novel that has nothing to do with politics while also fighting fascism on the daily.

Follow her on Twitter @taradublinrocks.

Editor’s note: This is an opinion column that solely reflects the opinions of the author.

TARA DUBLIN

TARA DUBLIN IS A WOEFULLY UNREPRESENTED WRITER WHO THINKS MORE PEOPLE WOULD READ HER COOL ROCK & ROLL LOVE STORY INSPIRED BY DAVE GROHL THAN ANY GHOSTWRITTEN GOP CRAPBOOK, AGENTS & PUBLISHERS. FOLLOW TARA ON TWITTER @TARADUBLINROCKS

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OPINIONOPINION: Kanye let his antisemitism DESTROY his net worthOctober 25, 2022

Kanye West lost his adidas contract and his spot on the Forbes 400 on the same day due to his very public bigotry.

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TRUMP HOPELESS: House Select Committee interviews Hope Hicks

TARA DUBLINOCTOBER 25, 2022

Former Ralph Lauren model Hope Hicks, who served as Donald Trump’s communications director, was meeting with the January 6th House Select Committee, CNN reported Tuesday morning. NBC also confirmed the meeting, although the panel hasn’t yet released a statement regarding her cooperation.

Hicks, who was one of Trump’s closest confidantes in his White House, previously refused to answer questions about working for Trump when she testified before lawmakers behind closed doors in 2019.

New: Hope Hicks, a former top Trump White House aide, is scheduled to sit for a transcribed interview with the House Jan. 6 committee today, per person familiar — Luke Broadwater☀️ (@lukebroadwater) October 25, 2022

Hicks, a personal favorite of Trump’s, served in multiple senior roles in Trump’s White House for most of his lone term but left the White House six days after the January 6th insurrection. She had previously served as White House communications director as well as director of strategic communications. Prior to her roles at the White House, Hicks worked for Trump’s presidential campaign, the Trump Organization, and Ivanka Trump’s fashion brand.

Trump blamed the military and law enforcement for giving Hope Hicks covid pic.twitter.com/LxPkRZskQA — MeidasTouch (@MeidasTouch) October 2, 2020

Throughout its investigation, the January 6th Committee conducted interviews with numerous key Trump officials and cronies such as former Attorney General Bill Barr, former Chief of Staff aide Cassidy Hutchinson, and Virginia “Ginni” Thomas, wife of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. The Justice Department, which is in the middle of its own January 6th investigation, has also sought the cooperation of Trump aide Kash Patel and Trump’s former “Diet Coke” valet, Walt Nauta.

If you missed it, I wrote a short Thread about Walt Nauta the Diet Coke Man of Trump and Kash Patel. What is this 'news' about them being squeezed? That story is obvious SPIN. Do not fall for spin. We have seen this movie too many times… https://t.co/eRldHaxnTe — Tomi T Ahonen Standing With Ukraine (@tomiahonen) October 25, 2022

Trump and his legal team have yet to announce whether he will cooperate with the January 6th Committee’s subpoena, with the Dhillon Law Group set to mediate his interactions with the committee. Meanwhile, the panel has cited precedents to argue it has the authority to subpoena Trump, and Vice Chair Rep. Liz Cheney (R-WY) has already said the Committee is prepared if Trump refuses to comply.

.@CheriJacobus .@glennkirschner2.@B52Malmet .@JudyPete.@BadBradRSR .@jennycohn1 When asked if she thought Trump would honor the 1/6 Committee subpoena, Nancy Pelosi's response, 'He's not man enough." pic.twitter.com/5FXMY4zn8x — ChattJazz 🇺🇦 ☮️ 🌻 (@ChattJazz) October 24, 2022

Other witnesses such as Steve Bannon and Peter Navarro who have defied committee subpoena demands have faced contempt of Congress charges.

#HopeHicks “shaking hands” with Chester the Molester. #TawdryTraitorspic.twitter.com/CfPVO7RbOR — Dave • 🇺🇸🇺🇦🇵🇱🇩🇪🇬🇧Veterans for Joe (@dave911rsr) October 25, 2022

[This is a developing story, please check back for updates on Hope Hicks and her testimony in the days ahead]

Follow Tara Dublin on Twitter @taradublinrocks.

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criticalbennifer · 4 months

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That Was Ben, This Is Now By John Brodie, for GQ

May, 2001

Or is it Ben There, Done That? At age 28, Ben Affleck has become the poster boy for living large. Oscar? Check. Tabloid-fueled fling with a starlet? Check. Starring role in a $135 million epic about Pearl Harbor? Check. So what’s left to do? As John Brodie learns, plenty. (Did someone say Congressman Affleck?)

Ben Affleck has a date. Not with a Bond girl. Neither is it with the former Star Warsheroine the New York Post claimed he snogged, nor with Chelsea Clinton, whom the Star trumpeted as his “secret romance” last fall. No, tonight’s date is with what in industry parlance is known as a nonpro, a mere mortal, someone a buddy has set him up with. So, when I meet him at his three-story Hollywood Hills spread, I’m disappointed he’s not frantically slapping on some Jovan Musk.

Instead, he ushers me past his two Cadillacs (a 1969 Sedan de Ville and a 2000 DTS), and gamely agrees to talk about his personal life. “I’m not Mansion Guy,” he says, alluding to the way most men in his shoes would be raiding Hugh Hefner’s sugar shack. “I’ve literally gone back to that stage where you meet somebody and ask them, ‘Hey, you want to go out to dinner?’ I almost feel like I should be taking notes to report to Chuck Woolery.”

As we talk, he shows me around the five-bedroom home that Gwyneth Paltrow dubbed the Persian Conversion – her allusion to the design challenge Affleck faced in undoing the previous owner’s vision of domestic fabulousness (Southern California meets Middle East luxe). Affleck’s own style might be best described as Haute Machismo – what almost any guy in his twenties would dig. Most of us – thankfully – lacked the monetary muscle to actualize our crib dreams at that time in our lives; otherwise, we’d be stuck with living rooms featuring Bob Marley murals and stadium seats from Soldier Field.

But while Affleck has avoided these pitfalls of postcollege taste (a vintage Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid poster does, however, draw a bead on visitors as they enter the house), his home is like many that belong to single guys in their late twenties – this is a hostel where out-of-town buddies crash while in town. And it shows. As we enter a downstairs guest room, Affleck points out a single mark on the wood floor. “That’s where Matt Damon nearly burned my house down,” he says of his writing partner’s penchant for smoking in bed during his stay last summer. Down the hall, Affleck pushes open the door of the second guest room, and a bouquet of dirty linen, stale beer and nicotine tickles my nose. Perhaps if Keith Richards were in residence, this olfactory flashback to my freshman dorm would have a certain charm. But Affleck, staring at the mess kicked up by a friend’s brother whom he has hired as a Guy Friday, grunts and closes the door. Eager to leave the scene behind, we walk up two flights to the living room, the centerpiece of which is an antique pool table. Affleck suggests a game – but first offers me a draft Guinness from his bar. As he pills the tap, there is a gurgle, a sputter of brown foam, a hiss of air and, finally, nothing.

“This thing was full last time I was here,” Affleck mutters. After a moment of silence, he yells for his Guy Friday. When he appears, Affleck questions him about this unpleasant turn of events. Almost too predictably, the kid gives a mealymouthed answer about how “the keg guy was supposed to come by.” Surely, if we were in a cartoon, this would be the moment when Affleck’s eyes would spin, steam would shoot from his ears and he would yell in his best approximation of Fred Flintstone’s boss, “Guy Friday, you’re Guy Fired!” Affleck, however, merely shakes his head and tells the kid to leave the room.

“He’s like any knuckleheaded 19-year-old,” Affleck says to me. “I was like that when I was 19, but I can’t say, ‘Hey, fuck nut, you’re shitcanned!’ because he’s my buddy’s brother. So I end up saying, ‘Don’t drink all the beer, man.’”

Affleck pulls up a barstool. “I guess I’ve started to realize there’s some value in growing out of communal living, surrounding yourself with your friends all the time.” His voice is low and weary. He mentions he’ll soon sell this place, upgrade his New York digs and find a smaller, more secluded house in Los Angeles – because he’s noticed an additional law of physics that Sir Isaac Newton missed: The number of houseguests will rise to match the number of bedrooms in a house. His days of placing buddies on his payroll are over as well. He’s learned that the posse life never works out. It just breeds resentment, he says, because it’s impossible to be someone’s friend and his boss.

As our conversation continues, bouncing from his thoughts about Donna Tart’s novel, The Secret History, to the percentage of bonds in his portfolio, it dawns on me that a change has come over the 28-year-old since the last time I interviewed him, five years ago on the set of Good Will Hunting. Back then, he was a nobody, unable to get enough fool-born jests. Now that life of arm-punching and jokes seems to be wearing him. The gossip columns’ answer to Prince Hal is struggling to become Henry V.

He has flown to Los Angeles on this January afternoon for a mere eighteen hours. He has his date tonight. In the morning, there’s a board meeting for LivePlanet, the Internet/entertainment company he cofounded with Damon, American Pie producer Chris Moore and independent producer Sean Bailey. Then it’s back to New Yotk to finish shooting Changing Lanes, a drama about a New York lawyer who snaps after a fender bender. Costarring Samuel L. Jackson, the movie is essentially a big-budget art film in which Affleck will traverse terrain similar to that covered by Michael Douglas in Falling Down. After that, Affleck will get another $10 million to star in The Sum Of All Fears, the fourth installment in the Tom Clancy franchise. Taking over the role from Harrison Ford is not the only big move he’s making this year – this month he stars in Pearl Harbor, Disney’s $135 million entry in the summer blockbuster derby.

Meant to do for December 7, 1941, what Saving Private Ryan did for D day, Pearl Harbor marks Affleck’s second collaboration with the high-octane creative team of producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Michael Bay. Unlike their last project (Armageddon), in which Affleck played the hot young pistol to Bruce Willis’s levelheaded hero, Pearl Harbor rests squarely on Affleck. Written by Randall Wallace, then pen behind Braveheart, the movie is a departure not just for Affleck but also for Bay; it’s his bid to make an epic rather than his usual action fare. In ambition, scope and tone, it’s closer to Titanic. Which means that Affleck, as the film’s emotional center, can’t fall back on his usual arsenal of quips and smirks to get him out of tight dramatic spots. If the film is to succeed, he must drop the crutch of irony and execute an acting triple jump of believability in heroic, tragic and romantic circumstances. In short, he has to grow up – be a leading man with the emphasis on man.

Bay knew all too well where the potential pitfalls lay with his star when he told The New York Times last year, “There are just certain Ben things I didn’t want in this.” When I asked Bay to clarify what he meant by “Ben things,” he responded, “I wanted a really heartfelt performance and sometimes Ben will say things with a little but of a smile. And I was trying to take that little smile out. I was always joking with him on the set: ‘No, Ben, don’t give me Forces Of Nature! Give me Pearl Harbor!’ And that would make the crew laugh.”

For most of the past year and a half, Affleck has indeed tried to work irony-free in movies like Boiler Room and Bounce. He reveals that he aspires to the level of craftsmanship of Nicolas Cage and Tom Hanks (“Hanks turned a volleyball into a character. That’s a pretty amazing feat”) but also admits that he still has a way to go. “There’s not a genre that I’m uncomfortable with. The frustration is that I feel I’m capable and confident in a lot of different areas, a jack-of-all-trades, but there’s not one where I feel I’ve found that next degree, that next level of mastery.”

When it comes to his professional life, however, Affleck’s desire for mastery extends beyond his acting career. A stalwart Clinton defender, he confides he fantasizes about running for Congress. He also hopes his Internet start-up will become his ticket to financial independence. “I look at a guy like Robert Redford. He’s got his Sundance Institute. Sometimes he directs. Sometimes he acts. But there’s not any pressure to keep doing it, and acting isn’t his sole means of supporting himself,” Affleck says by way of explaining motivations for moguldom. “I wouldn’t be unhappy to reduce the amount of acting I did and wait until I found something that was so moving or inspiring that I had to do it.”

But one has to wonder if, with the creation of LivePlanet, Affleck is acknowledging on some subliminal level that it’s not enough to be an actor pulling down $10 million a picture. As they say in Hollywood, there’s box office and then there’s bank. There’s being an actor for hire, and then there’s being the puppet master who pulls the strings. Lest we forget, one of the first swains seen squiring Paltrow around town after she and Affleck split was condiments baron Chris Heinz, son of the late U.S. senator and the scion of the ketchup fortune. What lesson should a guy take away from that other than: If you want to rock’n’roll with the Social Gen X Rays, you have to put your Gulfstream where you mouth is.

On September 29, 2000, Affleck met with Steve Jobs at the Apple Campus in Cupertino, California, to persuade him to sponsor a LivePlanet idea called Project Greenlight – a screenwriting conrest in which the winner (subsequently announced as Pete Jones, for his script Stolen Summer) gets $1 million to make a feature for Miramax Films. The timing for the sit-down with Jobs was not particularly propitious. The day before, Apple’s market capitalization had dropped almost 50 percent. Adding insult to injury, Affleck and Damon that week were on the cover of Fortune(headline: WHAT DO THESE GUYS KNOW ABOUT THE INTERNET?)- the same issue Jobs was holding when Affleck entered with his partners, Chris Moore and Sean Bailey.

Affleck and Co. began the meeting by citing Runner, one of LivePlanet’s hotter concepts, a TV reality show that will debut later this year on ABC. In the show, a contestant must trek across the country while viewers try to capture him for prize money. On his journey, the runner must “hit” certain destinations (such as a McDonald’s in Denver) during a prescribed window of time. With each episode the runner is not caught, the bounty on his head – as well as the prize money he can win – increases. (A companion Web site will allow armchair Tommy Lee Joneses to trade leads on the fugitive’s whereabouts.) If the runner is not captured, he wins $1 million.

Though Affleck and his partners had already raised $3 million in start-up funds for LivePlanet from an array of investors including movie executive Joe Roth and Oracle’s Larry Ellison (and would pick up an additional $12 million from other tech investors during the economic doldrums of last fall), they left without Jobs’s financial endorsement. It was one of many learning experiences for the actor on the road to becoming an entrepreneur. In fact, last summer LivePlanet was having a hard time being taken seriously by Apple’s ad agency, let alone the company’s business-development staff. If not for Affleck, however, the LivePlanet brain trust would not have met with Jobs. “When it’s time to get a big meeting, Ben’s not afraid to say, ‘I’ll make that phone call myself right now,’” says Bailey of his partner’s understanding of when and how to spend his celebrity capital. To get the meeting with Jobs, Affleck called Richard Cook, the chairman of the Walt Disney Motion Picture Group (and, as one of Disney’s top film executives, someone who had an interest in keeping the Pearl Harbor star happy). Cook had a good working relationship with Jobs, who is also the CEO of Pixar, the computer-animation company Disney put on the map with Toy Story. Cook called Jobs. Affleck got his meeting.

If Afflek simply wanted to cash in on his fame, however, he could have taken a Shatner huckster gig. To his credit, he dropped acting for six months to study the entrepreneurial world. Some of the cramming was financial: Affleck is the same investor who, several years ago, did not notice immediately when convicted financier-felon Dana Giachetto misappropriated into his own account $20,000 of Affleck’s savings, or when Giachetto invested $200,000 of Affleck’s and Damon’s money without their approval in a risky company called Global Source.

Some of the cramming was sociological: Dave Roux, a venture capitalist with Silver Lake Partners, whose firm invested in LivePlanet, remembers staring out the window of John Bentley’s, a Woodside, California, restaurant as a stretch limo ferrying Affleck and Co. pulled up. In Silicon Valley, Affleck learned he had to labor against the perception that people from Hollywood just want to get paid. “We were worried these guys might be doing this for a hobby,” says Geoff Yang, who has backed companies like Excite and now LivePlanet, “but every time we had a meeting with them and raised some concerns, they would come back and address those concerns and morph their thinking. That’s the mark of a really great entrepreneur.”

The transformation over the past four years from Good Will Hunting to Desperately Seeking Venture Capital, from leading man to business man, has brought a new set of challenges – like remaining true to his roots. For instance, whereas Elvis bought his mama a Cadillac, when it came time for Affleck to buy his mother a car, he opted for a Volvo. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that the King was from Tupelo, and Affleck hails from Cambridge, Massachusetts, where his mother, Chris, an elementary-school teacher, still lives in the house where he and his younger brother, Casey, grew up.

Affleck’s mother raised them after his parents divorced when Ben was 11. His father, Tim, acted and directed with the Theater Company of Boston and held odd jobs around Cambridge before heading west, where he works as a substance-abuse counselor in Indio, California. For most of his adolescence, Ben was estranged from his dad; the two became closer when Ben went to L.A. to break into movies in his late teens. These days, they’ve reached a peace. Of the change from childhood rage to adult acceptance of his old man, Affleck tells me, “Your moral absolutism really begins to crumble. As you get older, you experience some of the grays in the world. Maybe you don’t ever forgive some things, but the things that bother you stop eating you up.” Affleck is still sensitive to how the press has reduced his father to the throwaway one-liner of “the alcoholic dad.” Almost as if to prove otherwise, he makes a point of showing me some of his father’s photography that hangs on his bedroom wall near a vintage photograph Gwyneth Paltrow gave him. One of his father’s images appears at first glance like a bright lunar landscape but, on closer inspection, reveals itself to be cars rusting away in the desert.

The perquisite of his fame that has brought him the most pleasure, however, is helping out his mom, as when he bought her a second home, on Cape Cod. About the car, Affleck adds that he wanted to get her a Lexus SUV with gold rims to cinch her image with her students as ghetto fabulous. “Puffy showed up at Matt’s birthday party, and I made my mom take a picture with Puffy, so the kids in her class already think she’s a goddess.”

A few weeks later, I meet up with Affleck on the Disney lot. He has returned from New York in order to complete additional photography on Pearl Harbor. As we sit in his trailer between setups, Affleck, decked out in an Eagle Squadron uniform, tells me about his latest Internet adventures. When I ask how his desire to be an Internet mogul jibes with his growing up in a pro-union, liberal household, Affleck responds, “My fantasy is that someday I’m independently wealthy enough that I’m not beholden to anybody, so I can run for Congress on the ground that everyday people – be they singers or poets or bankers or lawyers or teachers – should be in government. The government shouldn’t be controlled by a professional class of politicians.” He leans back and taps out a fresh cigarette from his pack. The moment is slightly surreal. Chatting about politics, the McCain-Feingold bill and term limits with a man in uniform, I fell as if I’ve just walked into the antimatter version of Ronald Reagan’s trailer on the Hellcats of the Navy set.

Realizing he is walking a fine line between political and pompous, Affleck cuts the seriousness of the moment with a flash of self-deprecation: “Not to get too Susan Sarandon on you,” he adds. He then takes the wink away and continues,” But part of what I’d get off on would be the oration, the speechmaking and the idea of leading. That’s the other problem in the modern focus-group presidency. Nobody leads anymore.”

On the subject of the modern focus-group presidency, I ask whether he still stands by Bill Clinton. (Affleck has two letters from the former president framed on the wall of his study; the only other politician whose missive hangs on this wall of fame is Senator Edward Kennedy.) Affleck takes a long drag of his cigarette before likening Clinton’s image problems with Monica Lewinsky to Miramax chief Harvey Weinstein’s reputation for bullying filmmakers into cutting their movies to fit his vision. “Harvey makes a lot of mistakes, just like anybody does, but it’s unfair to call him Harvey Scissorhands, especially when any other studio would say, ‘Fuck, we’re not even going to distribute those kinds of movies.’”

As he talks, I don’t know which is more unnerving: that the cochairman of Miramax Films and the former leader of the Free World are somehow equated in Affleck’s mind or that I don’t even blink at the comparison. Affleck goes on to say he finds it childish the way critics of the two are unable to separate their personal excesses from their professional accomplishments. Of Clinton, he asks and answers his own rhetorical question, “Who cares what you think he did with an intern? That’s not what you hired him for. You hired him to run the country.” He also was appalled by the shameless way members of the administration wrote self-serving tell-alls. Suffice it to say, George Stephanopoulos will not be getting the nod to hang at Ben’s loft in Tribeca anytime soon. Of Stephanopoulos’s All Too Human: A Political Education, Affleck offers this thumbnail literary critique: “That guy’s a Judas.”

The former commander in chief is not the only member of the Clinton clan Affleck will defend. He campaigned for New York’s junior senator. And he is a Chelsea supporter. When he spent time with Chelsea on Hillary’s campaign trail, he found her bright and “so aware of the scandal and so nonplussed by it.” Just then m his publicist appears at the door to the trailer. Unfazed, Affleck continues, “She has a shockingly idealistic belief in the power of public policy and government to change people’s lives for the better. In a world full of cynicism, she manages to be optimistic, which I was thunderstruck by. If it were me, I’d be plotting to firebomb Ken Starr’s house.” Figuring this is as good a time as any to surprise him, I pull from my satchel a copy of the Star that ran the cover that linked him with Chelsea. (CHELSEA HAS HOTS FOR BEN AFFLECK! Was the headline inside) Saying he was more amused than annoyed by the article, Affleck shows me how the paper took a podium shot from a political rally and cropped it so it would look as if Chelsea and the “movie hunk” were having a soulful tete-a-tete. He quickly adds, “I don’t know if it’s true that when that story ran, somebody called Hillary and said, ‘They’ve got Ben and Chelsea dating.’ Supposedly, she said, ‘Well it would probably be good for both of them.’ Which I have to assume means it would clean up my act and expose her to the real world.”

A knock on the trailer door, this time from a PA, indicates Affleck is needed back in his fighter plane, so I decide to quickly finish this round of truth or tabloid and check the veracity of the various liaisons in which the gossip columns have named him recently.

“Famke Janssen?” I ask, curious to know whether he has lived out every guy’s fantasy of having a Bond girl.

“She’s somebody I know. We were at dinner with a bunch of other people. Then, by the time it got to the tabloids, we were like dry fucking on the table. But no. Nice girl. Friendly. A sweet person, but, c’mon, she just got divorced. Shoshanna? Same deal. Not dating her.”

And as he buttons up his uniform, I wonder how short a trip it would be from playing the hero of Pearl Harbor to walking the halls of Congress. Affleck has learned from experience that no matter how hard you try, perception outstrips reality; otherwise people would know him as a guy who spends his leisure time shooting hoops, reading, writing, e-mailing and having a beer with his buddies. Instead, he is the crown prince of the bicoastal demimonde, the alpha-male Kabuki figure of our media-drenched society. “I’m envious of my tabloid self,” he says, underscoring the difference between who he is and what he is. Then he slips into character, steps out the door and heads back to the set, ready to make the cinematic world safe for democracy.

#gq magazine #2001 #ben affleck #press/article

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ruelknudson · 4 months

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Slow start

Day three.

Well, day 2 was kind of a bust, but I had already expected that. While I am writing as a full-time job, there is a bit of flexibility in it. I knew yesterday, and the next few days, will have no progress. Before I put my notice in with my employee, I had 12/19 as well as 12/21-12/22 requested off. I have personal days, just like anyone else.

As far as "the job" is concerned, Monday was very productive. Only a single page written in a 9-hour workday. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Well, there is a business side to this as well. Reactivating social media accounts and updating my website took up the first two hours. I have about an hour a day allotted to social media. I might take it each day; I may do a couple of hours here and there.

The rest of the day was reviewing the current rewrite. The first draft of this current piece was finished about ten months ago. Since then, I have been treading water on the rewrite. I may get into the nuts and bolts of "my process" in another post. But, for now, consider it loosely defined like this:

Basic Outline.

Vomit out a first draft. Ignore being good, and just get the important parts nailed down. It'll be sloppy, and barely worth calling writing, but it is the foundation.

First rewrite: do the writing. This is the mechanical part of it. Make it good.

Second Rewrite: Self-editing of content. I.e. trim the fat.

Third - Fifth Rewrite(s): Grammar, spelling, structure, themes all get a final review. These are usually very fast. I usually need a few of these. As this blog will attest, my grammar and spelling are terrible.

Send to the editor. Thank God for editors. By the way, they're always right. Ignore them when you absolutely have to. I will limit myself to one "I'm not changing that" per story.

Revise based on editor notes.

Final editor pass. Be prepared to justify the thing you kept which your editor said to change. Smile broadly when the editor doesn't tell you to remove it the second time.

Release.

Number 3 is the longest, and most arduous step for me. However, this is where the book starts to actually resemble something worth reading. I am about 40% of the way through this rewrite, but I had to reread all of the previous work. This reflects how unfocused the process had been while I was working full-time on my previous day job.

This draft is still a mess. Luckily the core themes are properly worked out, and they evolve as I was hoping. My worst fear was repetition. I had to be sure the core ideas weren't creeping back into the piece later on. The themes need to evolve through the story, even a non-fiction story. Somehow, even as disconnected as those rewrites were, the themes are moving forward through the book at a natural progression.

If I stick with this format, I should finish two to three chapters a week. This doesn't look like it will be longer than my previous books. So. it looks like a month before the narrative is finished even with the holidays. Then I do the follow up rewrites. I also have appendices to write, but these are more academic than narrative, so they should go pretty quick and will only have one or two rewrites (if that).

During this process I will journal my thoughts and feelings here. I don't know if anyone will care. That's not the point. I think of it like those behind-the-scenes extras for films. Mostly, they are self-gratifying, but if you are interested in how the sausage is made, then its available.

I also want to use this to document how this process may change from story to story. I am curious how it might look after a few years. Will I have refined my process, or dumped it altogether? I wonder what future me will think of this. I bet future Ruel will take a look, get through the first half, delete it, and hope no one scraped a copy or thinks to look at the way back machine's archives to dredge this up.

One last note. I am rereading "On Writing" by Stephen King. I started in my final week of employment. I highly recommend it for any author, aspiring or not. While it has some advice, it is more of a peek into Stephen King as a writer. I am not a huge fan of King. I like many of his stories, but I don't go running to by a new book of his just because it was released.

However, I always find this book to be reaffirming, and inspiring. I don't agree with everything he says, but that's ok. I think the core value of the book isn't the advice. To me, it feels like he is sharing his experience and passing it along in case what works for him can help other writers. That's not to say one should ignore the advice. Its good advice. But that doesn't mean it works for everyone.

I don't expect the same fame, or any fame. I don't even know if writing will be profitable yet. But there is this sense of kinship when you read this book. I can relate to him, and much of what he says. The first time I read this I found myself nodding at a page like he could see me agreeing with him. It's like a conversation with King. "I totally get where you're coming from, Stephen. Telepathy."

Anyways, it's not a revolutionary book that will suddenly make a writer out of anyone. It's not designed for that. But, if you are a writer, it's a good read, and I recommend it. It's great for slumps. For me, I just needed another writer's voice to tell me I'm not crazy.

Welcome to your first day on the job, Ruel. Did you bring your toolbox?

#writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #blog

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princess-pill-enjoyer · 2 years

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Misc: My profile theme, music, and my identity (+ about 1000 other things..)

Definitely wouldn't be offended if this an easy skip for most. It is.. a hot mess, long and not particularly interesting. If you ain't supremely bored, you probably'd be better off not being curious on this one T^T

But hey I did enjoy writing it and I'm sure someday I at the very least will enjoy reading this so for me that's enuff boxes checked off to post 🤷‍♀️

This is another long post ngl. I've been on and off (mostly on 😭) writing since I woke up at like 11 am and its now 11pm. I wrote a few diff things so this one aint 12 full hours of writing or anything but I will admit it has been a long ass time on this one. Sorry in advance. i always seem to write a lot a lot when shit gets bumpy with R. Not even between us necessarily and the junk I be writing about don't be about her at all half the time I just be overexplaining and randomly going from topic wayyyyy worse than normal for some reason. I genuinely do not know why I'm like this bruh I used to write a little whiny vent note here and there pre R but now if i don't have one strict topic I'm talking/explaining I will write about any and everything that comes to mind as I'm going.

Oh god.. Me bringing this up reminds me of when she first said we had to talk less and I went nuts. That shit was so ghetto I deadass got fucked up on dxm so I'd stop freaking out over her dipping then DURINGGG the high I realized I was in love. I think after prolly.. 4ish hours of being like uh.. yeah there's no reason for me to be that damn tore up over us simply not talking as often... or her going through a breakup...... literally figured it out at the worst possibly time. THEN I was worried I just felt that way cause of the high so I just started writing everything out figuring like it'd wear off at some point when I was writing so I could see how I talked about it all throughout.

...which led me to write for damn near 24 hours straight....

I literally didn't sleep, eat, or do literally anything else for at least a good 16ish hours then took a small break cause I had to put away groceries and i got a single thing of pita bread, ate that shit plain, then got back to it. Lord looking back on that is so weird. I don't know what possessed me bruh I think I took another break around the 24 hour mark, either ate or sat there thinking for prolly.. an hour? 30 mins? Then did ANOTHER 12 hours of babbling. I had been using that notes app for literal years with no issue. But ofc.. all that time of writing straight had it crash on me a few times with one time wiping hourssss of writing. I wasn't saving all too often not thinking nothing of it but that shit crashed and I lost like 36k chars worth of junk and that changed ASAP. Plus.. I learned the shit had an 100k limit... so that was fun.

See? Overexplaining and RAMBLING. Deadass went from writing a quick head's up on the length of this post to talking about my weird ass drug induced love note shit. Why am i like this. ;-;

Anyway. Past this point is past me. Sorry for getting carried away in the warning

I wrote about this in a previous post but essentially, some random got the wrong idea and thought I was using Juice as my pfp as some sort of mockery? joke? i dunno

shits totally understandable and I'm sure anyone would figure out that ain't my intention after looking at my page for about .2 seconds. i mean.. if I were using him as the butt of some sort of joke you'd figure I'd mention it or something lol. Maybe that's only obvious to me though..

Anyway, I may change it to something new. I usually change my pfps for stuff fairly frequently if I'm on it a lot. When me and R were on the phone 24/7 I used to change my disc pfp at least 2-3 times within a 2 week period 😭

I dunno though I mean.. on one hand I don't really want this page to have all too many of my interests on it as for one I'm trying to stay at least semi anonymous but also I feel like it'd kinda be odd.. The Juice profile pic is one thing, as I listen to him all the damn time and I relate to a lot of his work. But I dunno.. wouldn't it be weird if I suddenly just changed my profile picture to a character that I like just cause they're cool? Wouldn't my page be more memorable if I have like. MY pfp MY username MY bio. Sorry it's hard to explain..

Like.. youtubers. They usually have a pfp and they keep it as that same one and people remember and recognize them off it. Or a few other types of influencers honestly. I feel like it's one thing when it's a personal acc where you really don't need people to recognize you off your pfp or user cause they'd just know you but my acc is kinda a grey area. I know damn well I ain't an influencer but I ain't exactly someone you'd just remember.

Maybe I'll compromise and only use Juice pictures.. I dunno

Speaking of Juice, I feel like now that I've been getting worse and worse his music became so much more relatable. I can't tell you how many times I've cried with my earbuds blaring 27 club. I wish I could share it all. I've never been a huge stickler for lyrics but growing up and going from understanding the story of a song to relating and living though the situations described has hit me so hard. I'm sure it ain't exactly a unique experience but still. It'd be cool to share my music and be able to talk about how I use each playlist and what it makes me think/feel

I would just link my spotify and keep it moving but ya know. More puzzle pieces of my identity

I think if I ever permanently kick the habit I might reveal myself but thats honestly a strooong maybe. I dunno like it aint so much of being ashamed/embarrassed of my addiction. Although, I won't exactly go around telling any and everyone I'm addicted to fucking otc allergy meds. i think R is the only one that knows specifically that I take dph. Everyone else I either never mention getting high or if I have I've only talked about weed highs. It just feels embarrassing given it's horrible hallucinatory effects on most people. While I don't get those, how th would they know that you know? 9 times out of 10 they're gonna google that shit, see mfs talking about having ghost conversations and the gosh dang hatman, then gon look at me crazy for continuing to take it over and over again. So yeah definitely a big factor, but I am honestly more worried about some concerned stranger finding my social media and telling my family/friends about this page or about my problem. That is my worst fear.

For one, this page is basically a diary. I go into specifics on shit that I would never tell anyone. Not that I'm particularly tooo ashamed of the shit I say about my personal life but

-A lot of it is not meant to be shit that just anyone knows. It's one thing when I'm just writing to the abyss/random strangers that wouldn't know who I'm talking about but if my family/friends were able to access this I'd have to be so much more guarded and careful about what I say on here cause they could more than likely guess or already know who I'm talking about

-Some of it is shit that I never want to discuss. I don't think I went too in detail on family dynamics but I don't even wanna bother opening that can of worms I'd rather pretend with everyone else that there is no issue and just do me once I leave

-Plus a lot of it is hypercritical shit I shouldn't even be thinking, let alone talking about. Just imagine finding out that one of your friends was out here telling everybody and they grandma that your boyfriend fucking sucks and you are clearly being blinded by their love for them? Or talking about how you know they won't last? Just like.. okay for one, even if they were right, you're not going to see it that way. You're gonna be questioning why they were doubting your relationship first and foremost but then I mean.. who wants to hear that? They're probably gonna tell you less about it and it'll strain yalls relationship, if not end it right then and there. Then by the time you can see it for what it is, it's 3 years later and it'd be awkward to become friends again

It does suck though. It would be real cool to make friends with someone cause of all my word vomit filled posts. I would love to show everyone all the shit I like to do in my freetime and beg everyone them cat/dog/literally pet pictures. Plus like, I dunno ever since R's been in my life I've learned to love any and all types of friendship

I used to be so offended when I'd have friendships that I only can get so close with. I'm so used to putting my all into all friendships and making sure to do whatever I can for them as long as it ain't hella inconvenient cause I always assumed that because I do, they'd do the same. But after seeing friendship after friendship fading as soon as I wasn't doing all that I used to be so mad. I felt like an outcast. But I think going through that time where my bsf and I were constantly texting or otp it made me a lot less available as far as doing all that extra to maintain friendships. I would be so focused on her I would damn near forget about talking with anyone. But even once we had to distance from each other some, I was still used to how I treated my other friends

I tried to cling to my less close friends trying to create that 100% on both sides thing but it kinda got.. hard. Ofc, the inevitable mental comparisons were nonstop. Literally couldn't breathe without thinking oh but if me and R were doing this I'd be comfy doing this or oh my god this game is borin if R were here we would prolly be doing our own thing by now and just talk instead or bruh I am literally on hour 459 of bubbly me if R was here I could probably get away with listening to whatever was going on in the background that day 💀💀💀

After I started doing that and started understanding my feelings, I kinda saw that I didn't even really want that sort of comfort with anyone else cause I didn't want them to expect all that and put me in a position where if me and my bsf started to talk more I'd be putting them on the backburner out of nowhere. I didn't think it would be fair of me you know? i don't want them to feel abandoned and unless Im in a place where I feel comfortable to not have to be one specific way with you I would prefer being alone anyway.

But feeling that way now made me see that it didn't really have to be one or the other. I've seen that no one really minded when I responded a bit late cause I was busy with R. And I would run to her with all my emotion stuff so I wasn't all too bothered if they never inquired about mine. And thennnnn I randomly got this dm from this girl I talked to when I was still at my dorm and that's when I really learned the joy of that shit

Hm ig you wouldn't really need to know specifics on that for the point I was tryna make. Maybe I'll talk about her someday. But yeah it was just so nice like. Hey I don't need you to be savior mode, human notepad mode, or hehe haha everything funny mode 24/7. We aren't close and you and I both know that. We can just have our fun when we happen to remember each other's existence and come back 8 mo later like nothing ever happened

Don't get me wrong, I love R so much and I love that we go out the way to talk to each other every day no matter what. It makes me feel really good to know that even with us not being able to be as close with each other now she still makes sure we don't lose contact with each other. Things are really different now and ofc I still miss how it was before but knowing that we can both acknowledge that our friendship had to change but still caring enough for each other to put in the effort to evolve into something else rather than letting it all go because it aint the same is something that is so precious. I wouldn't trade that for the world. But at the same point I've grown to love casual friends sm.

It's nice to not always worry about how they're gonna think if i do xyz or I don't reach out every so and so many days. I don't always need to hide or do the absolute most to maintain the friendship we can just enjoy each others company for a bit then go back on our separate ways til we reach out again. No hard feelings if we ignore a text or answer late cause we genuinely have no idea what we do on the day to day. And the pressure of only being one specific way with them gets lesser and lesser the longer yall stay apart inbetween. I think the biiggest example of that is this one long term but shallow friendship with this one girl I met in 9th grade that one year I lived in arizona.

I used hate that since I just got there she had all these older friends that she would talk diff to and generally be more close with. I thought once I moved back to Michigan we'd stop talking after a year or two and we weren't all tooo close so I didn't think nothing of it. But then I think like.. prolly 8ish months after that we started talking talking then we stopped. Then prolly another 6 mo later we did it again. And we just kept on doing that again and again and again. It used annoy me cause it felt like she only would remember my existence to tell me about her breaking up with one dude and getting with another or house drama or all that junk. It didn't help that she joked about my life being dry allllll the damn time too so I felt like she only talked to me to judge me and tell me all this shit as if I was supposed to gawk at all of it cause I didn't do anything intresting in her opinion. It didn't help that I never really felt comfortable telling her about any fr fr struggles i was having cause of how I thought she perceived me

It all came to a head when she got mad at me for pointing out that cycle one of these days. I think she texted me soon soon after all that shit with R was going down so I was salty already offrip. She usually starts texting first talking about some bruhhh YOU NEVER TEXT MEEE which this time was a lie. When we got back cool cool a few months back we started to taper off again. This time tho I made sure to text more often during that thinking things would ramp back up if I put more effort into showing I didn't forget her. It didnt really help as she was being dry 95% of the time so I stopped after like a month. I said that and kinda passive aggressively said that we do this all the time lets just get to the catching up part. Which was true but at the same point, so rude. I was still under that impression that she was gonna judge me and I felt like I had so much to look down on so I just was overly defensive and hostile for no damn reason

We skipped talking that time around which was honestly fair. I thought we'd never talk again after that and I forgot it even happened ngl. But then like 2 mo later she reached out again and with my new perspective on friendships I really saw it for what it was. I mean sure, she can be kind of a dick sometimes and she is kinda a magnet for drama at times cause she is pretty impulsive at times which leads her to speak before she thinks on shit but like.. she never means any harm you know? And plus, she is so caring bruh. Literally would do whatever she needs to for her friends. I genuinely forgot this happened but when my old job fired me for not attending this mandatory meeting on my day off (a blessing in disguise tbh I was thinking about quitting anyway) she was SWIFTTT to do a fake review on they shit. I'm sitting there like bruh chill it aint even that deep and by the time I got that out she already wrote a damn review saying they had shitty customer service (which was actually true lmao), racist ass manager (lowkey true as well 💀💀💀) and they ice cream be tasting like CARBOARD (now that I couldn't even support they shit be good good T^T)

Getting close with R and slowing down to where we are now showed me there's alot more to friendship's than opening up about each and every secret you've ever had you know? I still consider R my best friend, even with us not talking as much, both us not being as open, or us not hanging out as much. That all sounds like we don't even like each other more damn wth. LOOKKKK. Sure, there are times where I'm jealous and salty about how things are. And ofc I'm still mad that I KNOW she will get butthurt if I watch aggretsuko with someone else even though I have literally been pestering her about that shit for HALF THE DAMN YEAR. And at times she's overly territorial over me and I be sliiightly tempted to do shit just to watch her show out and other times she'll say the dumbest shit about herself that makes me wish I could teleport to her with a rolled up newspaper in tow.. But like, at the end of the day she knows me better than anyone ever has and I know her in a lot of ways that people don't understand. We're super similar and relieving to know that you know? At the end of the day I know that no matter what she'll be there for me and she trusts me to do the same for her which hasn't changed, even with how shit is now, her effort trumps everything.

Which is something I've grown to appreciate a lot more in general. Ofc including on and off friends like the girl from AZ. It grew to make a lot of the small annoying habits of hers feel a lot diff. I noticed how we really never had an awkward easing back in stage.

Every time, without fail we start with

damn you DONT TEXT MEEE!! DO YOU NOT LIKE ME ???

>:U

*insert defense junk*

yeah yeah I dont wanna HEAR IT 🙄

Then boom we get to catching up. Plus 99% of the time she got a game she wanna play. We usually just go to that then continue on talking and junk for a few days. At max a week and a half. I'll send a message here and there and she be DRY so I stop and then we dip for another few months.

It's so weird to think about honestly. We've been friends for 5ish years now. I only have one other long term friend as my years of moving back and forth led most to forget I existed and I met him in 7th. I dunno to me her and him were completely different in my mind cause of the frequency and nature of our convos. But it's just like.. nowadays I tear up thinking about them sometimes. Sure they got they own pros and cons but at the end of the day, they're consistent. We've all changed a lot throughout the years and I know they've met soooo many people that'll probably not die off the face of the earth every two seconds and I'm sure they both have friends they're a lot closer with but they still bothered to keep in touch even when it woulda been hella easy to just move on

Bruh thinking about it now got me tearing up (...as you can see I've been drinking water today 🙃) They may not be the first people I think to go to when shit gets rough but they've made it clear that they care about me for more than what I can do for them and that is mooooore than enough for me. I hope I keep them around forever. I try to be a lot better on checking in on em nowadays. I'm not amazing with that shit still and I still'll go weeks without speaking but uh. We getting there T^T

Though AZ girl is the reason I say bruh so much.. I hate her for that TO THIS DAY. she used to say breh and bruh after every sentence and it would make the shit she be saying 20000x funnier. I tried to steal it for jokes too but then it just start slipping out and now I prolly say it more than she ever did ANDD she don't even say it like that no more 😭

...

I went on so hard of a tangent I literally forgot what I brought this shit up for.. I had to go back up and reread it's been like 6 hours since I said that junk 💀💀💀

SEE like talking with me is fun on one hand cause as long as we aint sitting there making small talk we gon go through about 70 billion topics within 5 mins but then on the other if you had something to say about a topic we already went past??

gl.

T_T

All that was all to say that I've grown to really appreciate distant but consistent friendship. To me, it at times shows a lot more care and appreciation than having someone listen to you rant about xyz. Cause I mean, it's kinda easy to not be a dick and listen but it takes effort to keep coming back no matter what we talked about.

Damn do you think I should give the girl from AZ a name?

Nah I kinda like that long ass name for her lmao

But look at her. I barely spoke to her for months and I basically swatted her away when she was just tryna catch up and look at us. Well. We in an off period rn..

OO actually she said she loved me the last time we were on the phone and I said it back thinking that she possibly was talking to someone else but just incase you know. BUT SHE GOT SO HAPPY BRUH OMGG

Shit was so sweet. I would say it more often if it didn't wear off the novelty so quick

But yeah like look at that. I've barely told her about any of my struggles and 5 years later we're still just as close. I can't even count how many people I've heard detailed and long rants from that just dipped from my life once they were doing better off and by the time they got back in that mindset they've already either forgot about me or think it'd be too awkward to get back in touch. Not to say it's easy to talk about that stuff, cause it aint. But venting to a complete random is not exactly risky either. I feel like it honestly has lost it's effect on me nowadays. I would rather have 400 distant and shallow friendships that last for years and years and years than the 400 deep and super relatable friends that just disappear once they find greener pastures.

I hope that someday I'll feel comfortable revealing my identity on here. I didn't mean to imply that any possible friendships from this are gonna be shallow by default ofc. More so was saying I'm a lot more open minded about a lot of different sorts of relationships you know? I wanna explore more types like.. as soon as humanly possible atp T-T

Anywho uh. I think that's enough vaguely pointed rambling for one post. Very sorry to future me reading this. I know you prolly gon wanna stomp me out for always leaving you so damn much to read..

me is withdrawing atp soooo I'm either gon try and sleep the shit off or get to solving that 💀

gn/gm depending on when youre reading this. I hope youre doing okay

#misc #excessively long

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sprinklesandshatters · 3 years

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A Review on NCT 127′s 3rd Album <Sticker>

So NCT 127 just came back with their 3rd Full Album <Sticker> and this is my first 127 comeback since I became a fan last year! Neozone is such a special album for me as it was their first album that I explored entirely. I've known NCT as the group who never fails any expectations so I've kept mine up although I know they'll exceed it anyway. And guess what, they did! I absolutely love their new album hence this review~

This isn't a technical music review—as I am not a musician myself—but rather a listener's honest takes, goofy notes, and interpretation on each of the tracks in the album. I admit I've also struggled to build my own opinions on some of the tracks until I listened to them over and over again.

I have also heard there are mixed opinions on the title track <Sticker> and a lot says it's another acquired taste. But I think it's not just that, as it can be a grower, just like how most of NCT's songs were for me. Maybe after a few listens and a right passage of time, it will grow on those people. The bottom line here is, I like it a lot! 😛

So I listed down the songs according to their respective track numbers and followed each with a bulleted list of my opinions and interpretations.

(Viewer/reader discretion: before you continue, minors, do not interact as there are few 18+ contents under the cut. Thank you.)

1. Sticker

THEY DIDN'T JUST PUNCH A NEW NOTCH ON THE BELT LIKE THAT

THIS SONG SLAPS, LITERALLY SLAPS… AND WHIPS

The recorder at the intro boyyyy I thought something was wrong but then I remember it’s NCT lmao

It already stuck in my head from my first listen from the Instagram audio.

With Taeyong opening the verse with his divine rapping, I knew I'm in for a new ride.

STICK-UH STICK-UGH STICK-UGHGHGH

To those complaining it sounding like noise music, imagine it sounding generic. I don't think it would fit as the title track. Not a b-track or in their repertoire, even. They are called NCT because they define the NEO in the music culture and music technology!

It honestly was an unorthodox, just like all of their title tracks, which I’m inherently here for.

Literally, no one does it like them!

The growls and the vocal flexes and adlibs! (You can tell it has Yoo Youngjin's brand.)

The crisp metronome sound that’s consistently ticking except for the pre-chorus and the dance break adds depth to the soundscape. I love how it’s used instead of the usual snaps.

The production quality blew my mind. Like how can someone think those melodies would sound so exquisite? CAN I CALL THEM GENIUS?

The piano at the back, oh my God—Yes! It adds this mystifying element to the song.

I'm not sure if it's a midi violin at the pre-chorus, but it added thrill to the song. It was a great transition from the bass line in the verses to the combination of the flawless harmony with the same instrumental.

"You treat me like a boy, like a grown-up child chasing a dream" JUNGWOO BABY NO MORE HUH

Taeil, Doyoung, and Haechan—the bridge vocal trinity!

But why the heck are they cowboys? I dig the concept, but why? LMAO

BTW GUNSLINGER MARK I’M ON MY KNEES YEEHAW

This is easily one of my favorite tracks from NCT 127's entire discography 💚

2. Lemonade

(⌐■_■)

Jaehyun starting off this song with his deep voice eee

The song opens to a verse oozing with chill confidence. They're like, yeah you're lurking because we’re cool.

This is such a huge slap to their haters. NCT's not chillin' like a villain, nah they're the main characters!

Well maybe they’re villains, but still ya not cooler than them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny enough how they could have just referred haters as simply lemons whose sour/bitter to the taste, but 127 squad's success is sweeter than all the haters' spiteful remarks so yeah, SIPPY SIPPY LEMONADE 🧃

"WOOF"

I might have just barked too wOW

Yuta’s vocals hooooO his voice just sounds so glamorous mhmm

Also Mark referencing their previous title tracks such as: Firetruck, Cherry Bomb, and Regular (it's Irregular in the lyrics) in his rap part 👌💅

I just love Mark's energy when he raps. HE RESOLUTELY BITES AND STRAIGHT UP EATS EVERY TIME HE DOES.

3. Breakfast

Now breakfast time, oh jeez!

AAAHAHFU—

Summer 127's bestie!

If Summer 127 talks about dancing all night long, Breakfast is the morning after.

You know what it is.

"Even if I gulp and drink you, it's not enough for me." oho Taeyong no you ha—STOP

Sexual innuendos aside, isn't it just sweet if someone tells you they'd want to have breakfast with you every day? Okay maybe I'm melting at the thought 😩🙈💞

And I can see myself dancing to this song as I make breakfast (in the afternoon or at midnight bc I’m crazy)

This was an okay b-track for me at the first skim on the album, but boy it grew on me wildly.

Honestly one of my favorite tracks in this album.

4. Focus

Did I just invade a private call? LMAO

The analog voice filters make it like so.

Dude, this feels intimate in the level of eavesdropping a phone call between seasoned lovers. Then you realize you hear them whispering their kinks over the line and you're ooh, that's sexy! hfgklhfhf

My first listen to this, I almost went feral because,

"I can't wait to eat you…" when it's actually "I can't wait 'til we chill…" aahaha

"Baby call me when you want me." OKAY!

This sounds relaxing and chill. I'd love to play this on a late night drive or just before bed time along with Fly Away With Me, Sun & Moon, My Youth, and Long Flight.

Belongs to ‘make out session’ playlist ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That was lowkey a playlist recommendation, huh?

I'd be kidding if I don't say I could touch myself while listening to this song AHAHAFGHFJFJ

I didn't know this would grow on me this much lol I love love LOVE THIS!

5. The Rainy Night

Ooh, the holy melancholy!

Piano at the intro—I knew I'd cry to this.

This song isn't just about break-up, but the heartbreak after one.

The yearning; the remnant pieces from the shattering of what was once there.

I think I crumbled from this one.

This hit so hard I felt like I fit in the shoes with the lyrics throughout the entire song.

What’s fascinating is I clearly forgot the title when I mentally said this sounds like a sad rainy day song from the first listen.

Something I’d turn up when it suddenly rains, just because I want to feel the blues.

Taeil and Haechan singing in lower register? I wanna cry :( they’re just one of the best vocalists in K-music industry right now.

Could have been also nice if they added Yuta to the vocals.

"My selfish heart who waits for you to come back," OKAY WHO HURT THEM?

And the fact that they sang it so good that it translated every ounce of the emotions well even before I looked up for English translations is the reason why I love this song too.

6. Far

Hmm… What the hell?! Do I like this? Wait...

Alright!

The jumpy vibe from the first verse to the pre-chorus set the mood for this song. It sounds merry and heavy. It was honestly too much to take until I’ve reached the chorus part.

Honestly, I think this song could fit NCT Dream better, as it gives off a vibe similar to Hello Future's b-tracks. If some credible source say this could have made HF’s track list, I might believe you too fast.

Also Dream’s Deja Vu where they go na nananananana na na na~

Playful yet confident! That’s what I mean!

As usual, the vocals are insane! Vocal flex from left to right!

I swear Jungwoo sounded a bit like Taemin at the second verse that I had to replay it hahaha

I love hearing Johnny as a vocalist! SM, how many signs do you need until you utilize his vocal talent???

Taeil's part where he sings, "go nuts, go nuts, 'til we go bust, go bust" IDEK BUT I SNORTED A LAUGH AT FIRST LISTEN HFCAHKFHK

Not my favorite, but still great though!

But wait it’s actually stuck in my head???

7. Bring The Noize

Yes, they never beat those noise music allegations

HERE'S SOME NOIZE, BITCHES

I love me some noisy percussions. AND THE BASS YO

This screams so much confidence!

The build up from the pre-chorus to the chorus—FIRE!

This song reminds me a lot of SuperM's Super Car, especially with the engine roar samples and the battle cry-like singing at the chorus.

JAEHYUN RAPPING? You mean Jaehyun the visual, the vocalist, the actor, the model, the funny dude, aka my everything?! (markie bb look pls look away for a moment)

THEY DELIVERED IT STRAIGHT FROM NEOCITY THAT'S SOME NCT MUSIC RIGHT THERE NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM

When I said I'd play Focus on a late night drive, and if I add this in the playlist, VROOM VROOM SPEED LIMIT WHAT

OUTTA MY WAY

“We got no shame” ouh TAEYONG’S FLOW IS JUST VERY HIM AND HE’S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN

You know what's so clever about this song? It's how it ended with Mark's final rap without any instrumental, leaving you standing there with a doppler effect-like post experience.

A super car on a super speed just whooshed past you and you look its way as it zips through the road. It's gone in an instant but you're floored dumbfounded at a sidewalk. That's how I describe this song.

8. Magic Carpet Ride

This song… Wow. Oh gosh it's so beautiful.

Their harmony in the chorus—it makes me want to kiss someone so passionately that I'd cry.

This makes me want to feel love that transcends the universe. Literally, just please take me on a magic carpet ride :(

The background harmonies too oh my goodness—HEAVENLY.

Jaehyun's voice is so warm and soulful it fits perfectly with songs of this genre.

Okay alright Doyoung Grande!

And Taeil makes me feel like I'm listening to old school R&B.

The first time I heard this from the track video, I can't stop replaying because it's just that great.

This makes me want to love. I think that sums it up.

9. Road Trip

This is such a soothing song for me, especially how I easily become nostalgic thinking about the road trips I've had.

Whenever I listen to this, my brain immediately conjures up thoughts of my ideal getaways. Gazing at the sky through the car window, stirring up from a nap in the middle of the ride, and eventually reaching your destination.

Oh, to travel around anywhere... (curse you covid-19)

Okay that's it. I'M PACKING UP.

But where do I go—

I could also imagine Mark playing this on the guitar and the other members sing along together, something like that.

Just Wholesome™ vibes.

I love how it evokes such a nice emotion within me effortlessly.

This isn't my favorite, but I still love this.

10. Dreamer

Eyyyy such a refreshing song!

This song is so bright it makes me want to dance. I play this first in the shower!

It reminds me so much of Elevator (from Neozone)

The horns make it more lively I think!

Yuta and Jungwoo's voice suits lively songs like this.

The background vocal in low register in Taeyong's part in the first verse is so good ahhfhf

Taeil, the R&B vocal king you are...

There's this part where Doyoung and Johnny harmonized, that at first listen they seemed to clash, but it sounded actually fine after a few listens. Maybe it's just that I've never heard them do it before.

And I think it's Doyoung's laugh at the end of the bridge? Oh my goodness I really love this too!

11. Promise You

MY FIRST LOVE AND MOST FAVORITE SONG IN THE ALBUM!!!

The first time I heard this from their NCIT Sharehouse Sitcom, I fell in love with the song already.

It sounds like something you'd feel from a warm, welcoming hug.

The lyrics are so beautiful and endearing. It's definitely a be-there-for-you type of song that will touch your heart.

It definitely sounds like a promise.

A song about platonic intimacy.

This really fits to be the closing song of the album. It's like the end of it but holds a promise that says “see you soon.”

Because they cherish their fans like that.

It's also like I've watched a movie with a happy ending, where the camera pans up to the clear sky and this song starts playing.

Speaking of ending, I would love to hear them sing this as an encore stage in their concert. You know, that moment just before the stage lights die down at the end of the concert where they send final blows of flying kisses to NCTzens. Then you come home smiling and crying.

This wasn't supposed to be this long since I originally planned to write this with just simple phrases and emojis but I got too engrossed lol. I also meant to include my own ratings but I figured it’s pointless since I can’t really decide about them hahaha

I really enjoyed the whole album and I love how they're progressively defining what NEO means by breaking through standards. It's not NCT music if it doesn't make you say "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?" But then you realize it’s stuck in your head and you’re enjoying it already.

✨ OVERALL RATING: 127/10 💚

if you’ve reached until here, thank you for letting me share you a braincell or two 💞

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viridiave · 3 years

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Daylight Prairie- Creatures of the Light (lore dump)

I've had a couple of theories and headcanons stirring around my head regarding Prairie for a while now- so right here we're gonna tie some of them together cuz I haven't lored in a good long while XD

Note- btw I'm not part of beta so this is purely just me- a crackhead- putting together a crackpot narrative. SOME spoilers for Eden are present.

okay these guys drive me fucking nuts

We barely know anything about these guys- and what little we do know is derived purely from their closed off uh... Worshipping space. Look at this freaking thing.

In the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by clouds for miles. Fairly advanced diamond technology. Altars with graves decked out in gold and candles. The mechanism for the entrance to the elevator to begin with is fairly complex as well- activated by butterflies and the butterflies don't even die in the process. And to top everything off, this place has a portal that leads directly to the Prairie Temple.

If this isn't sus I don't know what is- but I think I have an explanation.

There are six spaces for six more people that we are not aware of. The only people we DO know of is one bald person in the short garb and another bald person in the long garb. I propose that these six missing people are the Whisperers.

Which is... pretty out there, I know. Counting the 'voices' that we get in game, (including the ones from previous Seasons like Lightseekers and Sanctuary) we have one for Birds, Whales, Mantas, Memories, Crabs, and Jellyfish. For now, we're not counting either Butterflies or Krill- and I'll explain why in a bit.

As for the initial proposition that these Whisperers are the missing six, first we need to ask ourselves what exactly it was that the Worshippers were... worshipping. There is a possible god of which we see in game, and the name of this god is the Megabird.

Megabird here was heavily present in concepts, and in the final product we only ever get to see traces of her and heck to this day we're not sure if she's a canon entity in the final game at all. Megabird as an entity in the concepts is basically the god overseeing the world of Sky and is comprised entirely of light. It's unclear whether or not the Ancestors were aware of her existence after or even before the King rose to power. The Elders themselves are likely privy to this information, but somehow I doubt that it's something anyone wanting to assert control over their people would encourage.

There's certainly the possibility that these Worshippers were a religious sect dedicated to the Elders themselves- but since I'm here trying to propose that they're worshipping something tangential to the possible actual god, we're going to assume this isn't the case. On that note-

I propose that the Ceremonial Worshippers valued the Light above all else- and this worship was extended towards the light creatures themselves.

'Oi. Vir. Crabs are DARK Creatures.'

Not all of them. Heck, a dark crab might not have been the norm back then, but that's a stretch and besides- the fact is that these crabs on the far end of Sanctuary are docile.

Keep in mind that these followers were stationed in Prairie, of all places. You know what else is in Prairie? Sanctuary Isles- home to several kinds of manta, butterflies, jellyfish, and even the elusive Elder Manta (yes that's what the big chonky boi that looks like a light krill is called- it's not a whale.). Daylight Prairie is in no shortage of light creatures- and at the center of it all is its Elder.

Prairie Elder is implied to have responsibilities toward the light creatures as presented in the SkyShop poem featuring them:

'Fields of harvest, prairies of joy.

Farmer and fauna as one.

The Elder protects the creatures of light,

For darkened days to come.

Fly up, fly away,

For the Children of Light in need.

We shall recall our days of wonder,

And feel its air once more.'

-SkyShop Poem (Prairie Elder Pin)

In the greater context of the story, Daylight Prairie is the primary source of light energy in the form of the light creatures- it makes sense that the Elder of that realm would oversee the flow of light creatures from one realm to the other, and that the Ancestors in their domain would have a greater respect for the creatures than others. They're the ones working with them, and they're the ones that know them best.

Enter the Worshippers- who were likely serving directly under the Prairie Elder. I'm not confident that the Prairie Elder could have shared information about the Megabird- or if they even know the god existed. 'The Light itself' is pretty vague for something to be worshipped, and it's possible that the Prairie Elder instead encouraged people that the Light manifested itself into the various light creatures that we see.

In this world however- industrialization marches on, and eventually these light creatures became things to be harvested rather than worshipped. It's speculated that light creatures were used in the production of diamonds- we see signs of this scattered throughout Forest, and Wasteland by proxy. The mural under the bridge in Forest and the doors to the Temple seem to suggest as much at least. Eventually, this industrialization will grow out of hand. I have a few theories on what the Prairie Elder might have done to passively rebel against this.

We learn in the Prairie Elder's cutscene that they are able to form- not summon- butterflies from fire. I'm not proposing that the Prairie Elder is single-handedly responsible for the existence of butterflies- rather I'm proposing through the Prairie Elder's abilities that light is able to be manipulated in such a way that one can create light creatures, should they know how.

It could just be the butterflies, honestly. And really it could just be the Prairie Elder that's capable of such a feat- and because of these holes in this theory it's the first to go.

And yes this is the reason why the Butterflies don't count. I think. That has holes too and I can make a case for the Butterfly Charmer technically being part of this... But I digress.

Sanctuary Islands could be a literal Sanctuary for the light creatures- there is an impressive variety of them present. It's also very out of the way, tucked away in a corner of Bird's Nest. The theory I'm proposing here is that the Prairie Elder and the Sanctuary Guide worked together to keep this place hidden from the rest of the Kingdom- and that it was the Sanctuary Guide that broke the bells that would have granted the Ancestors access to the light creatures.

This is... probably improbable, but my whole post was leading up to this so we're doing this. The missing six Worshippers are the Whisperers that we've encountered throughout the game- leaving in order to either develop their relationship with or protect their creatures of choice.

The Bird Whisperer stayed close and remained in Prairie- and is probably the reason why Bird's Nest exists at all. The Jellyfish Whisperer remained as well, opting to stay in Sanctuary- the natural habitat of the jellyfish.

The Whale Whisperer ventured to Forest- where there probably once was a small population of Whales, given the corpse we see in the Bridge Area and the live Whale in the Underground Cavern.

The Manta Whisperer went to Valley- I'm guessing to see how mantas were being used for labor and competitions? And Valley is right next to Wasteland so I might be reaching but they could have been monitoring that too.

The Crab Whisperer is a tricky one because we see them travelling with the Lightseekers, and yes I am proposing that this lady was formerly a Worshipper. But because we're dealing with a creature that we now know is more dark than light, maybe the Crab Whisperer joined the Lightseekers in order to observe that phenomenon more closely? Because she does refer to the crabs as friends in her SkyShop poem. Wasteland wasn't always a... wasteland, after all. Things could have been different, and the crabs could have been adapting in a time where they would be relatively dangerous but not so much that an Ancestor couldn't approach them.

And then there's the Memory Whisperer. For this one, I don't think a spirit manta actually exists- at least, not as an organic creature and moreso just an interactive holograph courtesy of the machinations of Vault. I'm actually not too sure on what this person could have been doing, but they have a call- and my best guess is that the Memory Whisperer is one who listens to the last vestiges of light leftover by a creature- because we do see skeletons in Vault, and one is of a creature that looks like an amalgamation of several spirit mantas.

As far back as Prophecy, Krill don't appear to be aligned with the light. They aren't depicted as former light creatures, nor a corrupted variant of an elder manta or whale- they are presented as thenselves in that Prophecy mural. Though I'm sure we'll get a Krill call later on, I'm not going to count them until then.

<CONCLUSION...?>

This huge post is... full of holes and heavy speculation, I'm aware. Mostly I just wanted to dump a bunch of shower thoughts and leftover lore I came up in the Discord lore chat. Go check it out sometime, I've derived a few points in this from interacting with people there. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this matter, by the way- it's fun theorizing! I haven't done this seriously in a long while.

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky lore #sky cotl lore #that sky game #daylight prairie #season of sanctuary

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expansionofsoul · 2 years

Text

Last Night - Sam Kiszka x Reader

Couple: Sam Kiszka/Original Female Character

Words: 8010

Synopsis: The room feels like an invitation. When you fall asleep, your dreams show you a reality of love and murder, and Sam Kiszka needs your help figuring it out.

Warnings: Murder, blood, mentions of sex (not explicit)

Author’s note: Hi, friends! This took me a long time, and if I had more free time I would have made it a longer story! This is my first time writing anything about Sam. The plot is based on the film “Last Night in Soho”, by Edgar Wright. As always, requests are open! If you would like to be tagged next time I post a story, please let me know :)

The first time it happened, you thought you were losing your mind. Your luck didn’t seem like the best at that time, and there was a wandering question of what you had done to deserve everything that was happening to you.

Firstly, there was school: something kept telling you that moving to a completely new city to pursue your dreams wasn’t exactly the brightest idea you ever had, not only because it meant you had to be completely lonely, but because you weren’t even sure if that was your biggest dream anymore. You spent all your time, your money and your mental health with something that just felt like an insertity now.

Second of all, you were broke. College was expensive, all of your money well earned from work was being spent by renting a shitty place that felt like a shoe box and buying food that never tasted good enough to make you feel full. If that wasn’t enough, it seemed as if you were destined to make the worst decisions possible, impulsively buying clothes that you would never wear and makeup that you didn’t know how to apply. At the start of the semester, it did seem like a good idea, because you were sure that you would be invited to every party. Now, as you sat alone in your room, you wondered what your grandmother would have thought of your lifestyle.

With all of that combined, it seemed only fair that you would also be going nuts. But you didn’t know this was how it was going to happen. You thought it would happen during class, with you snapping suddenly and freaking out your classmates with your ugly crying. Or maybe you would go the other way, getting so drunk at parties that you just forgot everything you ever learned, slowly becoming the failure you knew deep inside that you already were.

But you never thought it would start with a dream. That was the worst origin story ever, someone who lost their minds over a dream that didn’t even seem that realistic. You could never write a book about that, they would never make you a star for being a heavy sleeper. Even with that strong opinion about yourself, you knew from the beginning that something felt off, and your biggest fear was that you were never going to be able to explain that to someone else.

It was a club, one that you didn’t recognize. It’s not like you could possibly recognize any club, for that matter, but this one seemed oddly even more unfamiliar. Inside your own head, aware that you were dreaming, you tried gathering all your cinema knowledge to try and figure out from which movie you had taken this club from. Even with all of your information, you felt a little lost, and wondered how your mind projected something completely new just for a silly dream.

Every color seemed to blind you as soon as you looked at it. A shameless mixture of red, yellow and blue that would probably be considered something out of fashion nowadays, and that is how you knew you were dreaming about a different decade. The tables surrounding the dance floor were also vibrant red, and filled with people that you didn’t seem to know. You tried recognizing some of those faces as movie stars or musicians, but nothing came to mind. They were complete strangers, and they didn’t seem to know who you were either, looking at you with a strange gaze before returning to their previous activities.

But something about that club was not right. Of course, it might have been because you had never seen it before, but it seemed realistic in weird senses that you did not expect. You could smell sweat, so strong and suffocating that you had to focus on stopping your breathing every five seconds so you wouldn’t be sick. You could also see the sweat glued to people’s hair, back and arms, like a shiny cover that protected them, and it would have looked disgusting if people weren’t so goddamn attractive.

You took your time analyzing everything, trying to touch people discreetly enough that they wouldn’t be surprised. You wondered when you would wake up, and why you were locked inside a dream with no plot, no real reason to exist except for the troubling sensations. Nothing happened for what felt like hours. Until you hear someone screaming from the nearest bathroom, and the room becomes completely silent at the sound.

Someone comes out of the bathroom first. It’s a woman, you could guess she was just a little bit older than you, wearing a silver dress that came to the top of her thighs. She wasn’t screaming anymore, but she was carrying an expression that you could only imagine would come from someone who had just seen a ghost. A man, older and obviously wealthier, held her waist as he guided her to the other side of the club, giving her a glass of water.

The second person to come out of the bathroom was a young man, and the first thing you noticed was that his bare chest was completely covered in flesh blood.

“Francis!”, the girl beside you screamed, running to hug him. He stopped her before she could press her body against the blood, and held her face with both of his hands to talk to her.

“They killed Harmony”, his tone was desperate, skin so white that it made him seem sick. “We need to call the police, she’s dead!”

Your heart was beating fast, your eyes still closed after the shock of seeing the blood covering his skin, the smell of sweat and the taste of alcohol lingering like it didn’t want to leave you. It took you a few moments to finally realize that you were awake, and laying in bed. The room was so warm that you almost forgot it was the middle of winter, and your entire body was completely covered in sweat.

The dream seemed to stay with you, and you could remember everything all too well. The vision of flesh blood, red and liquid, was a terrifying memory. You were never too squeamish, but you also couldn’t deny that thinking of it made you a little nauseous and extremely nervous. It wasn’t even the blood that scared you, but the fact that it was human blood taken from someone by violence. You thought about the despair in the man’s voice, and imagined him washing himself that evening and taking too long to get the blood off his chest, forced to revive the same view. Everyone seemed to know her, and you were confused as of why no one noticed beforehand when she left and didn’t return, only to be found murdered in a dirty restroom.

Your phone reminded you of college, and the day went by quickly, your mind never leaving that same club, trying to understand exactly what happened. It’s not like people around you actually tried to take you out of your thoughts, since everyone seemed distant and confused as to why you were there. This had been happening since day one, like you were placed in the wrong place, not belonging next to these people, who all had too much to say to everyone else but you. As classes started and ended, the constant vision of the man haunted you, nothing you could possibly do would have ever stopped you from thinking of him.

When you tried falling asleep again, after mountains of homework and smoked cigarettes, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something, although you were not really sure what, was in the back of your head, telling you that you shouldn’t try going back to a dream that wasn’t even a good one. It wasn’t even a dream, but a nightmare filled with blood and murder and no conclusions. Even with all the resistance your own body was pulling out of nowhere to keep you awake, you felt tiredness drowning you slowly, pulling you into a state of conscience that you didn’t recognize.

You look at your own body, knowing the outfit you had on was not yours. You wondered if you were even at the same place, but the bright colors were now familiar enough that you knew exactly where you were. People around you looked calm, a chaotic mixture of loud music and drugs making the club look smaller than it actually was, smoke blocking your view from every face in front of you. Still, you knew exactly where he was, your body floating like a feather in his direction, the soft touch of your dress against your skin when the breeze hit you making you shiver.

Francis was sitting next to two other men, the three of them looking exactly like the people you would expect to meet at a place like that. The autonomy of your body during a dream scared you again when you felt your heart beating faster at the thought of talking to people you didn’t know. You took your time paying attention to their appearance, all of them with luscious long hair and sunglasses.

One of them noticed you first, throwing you a smile you knew well. Funny how men didn’t change even with the passage of decades. He pointed to the seat next to him, and shook some of his curly hair from his face.

“Hey, doll”, he said, as you sat down after his invitation. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you new?”

“I’ve been here before”, you explained, obviously keeping the fact that you weren’t exactly real, and neither were them. “I guess I’m just not that negotiable.”

Francis laughed, now paying full attention to you, his whole body trying to adapt to your unknown presence, a dash of anxiety making his legs shake in his seat. The other man, wearing a hat and sharing a blunt with the one that had talked to you first, smiled confidently, his aura so dark and magnificent that you had to look away or you would feel yourself shrinking as he looked at you.

“I’m Daniel”, the one with the curly hair talked to you again, now offering his hand so you could shake it. You did as he offered, as he pointed with his other hand to the men sitting with him. “That’s Jacob and Francis. We play here sometimes, when they don’t have anyone else playing disco music.”

Francis seemed to recognize you for just a second, but you knew this wouldn’t be possible. You knew him, though, and you could feel he still felt nervous after the whole situation unfolded right in front of him. You couldn’t imagine feeling comfortable enough to go back to the place where you found a dead body, especially of someone you previously knew. He had his body turned to face you, as Daniel and Jacob discussed the fact that disco music wouldn’t survive enough to become memorable. The comment made you laugh, but they were too deep into the conversation to notice. Francis, however, couldn’t care less about their screaming and discussing, attentively looking while you sipped on a drink someone had left on the table. Not your safest choice, but it was a dream after all.

“I like your vest”, you finally said, and he seemed to be scared when you noticed he was looking at you. “You come here often, Francis?”

He struggled to get his words out, for some reason. Thinking about a man with this appearance, with this obvious charisma suddenly becoming shy as you spoke to him made you smile.

“I do, yes”, he responded, stopping to smoke. “Jacob started bringing me with him when I was a teenager and I never stopped.”

The small talk had barely started and it was already killing you slowly with anticipation for your real questions to be answered by him. But, and that hurt to admit, you still needed him to trust you enough so that he would tell you all he knew. You also knew that, if you wanted him to open up to you, you needed him to be vulnerable, and you only knew one way of making that possible in such a short amount of time.

And he also seemed to know where this conversation would end.

“Is Jacob your friend?”, you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

“No, he’s my brother”, Francis clarified. “You couldn’t tell?”

“Oh, I can definitely see the resemblance now that I really think of it”, you laughed with him. Crossing your legs, you let the skin of your thighs be more exposed. You watched as Francis’ eyes followed your moves. “But he’ll have to excuse me, you’re way more handsome.”

Francis laughed, moving his eyes back to your face. He reached out to your legs, touching one of your knees gently as he got his mouth closer to your ear.

“Look, babe, I know exactly what you want. And I’m gonna give it to you”, he whispered. You looked to the side, to see if Jacob and Daniel noticed his behavioral shift. “But first, I want us to talk. Does that sound good?”

His touch was a surprise to you. You didn’t expect it to feel this realistic, and you knew this was a dumb thought to have at this point, considering how everything else felt so real. Even then, it was shocking when he reached for you and touched your bare skin. His touch on your knee felt as warm as his breath on your ear, and your entire body reacted by getting even closer to him. “Sounds amazing, Francis.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name”, he said, more as a question. His hand was still on your knee, his fingers grazing slightly up your thigh.

“It’s Y/N”, you answered. “What do you do for fun in town when you’re not here?”

“I don’t know. I like to write music, I like to read”, he explained. “Although I’m not having much time to do anything these last few days.”

You wanted to be direct. You wanted to catch him by surprise and ask him about the murder, about the blood covering his body, if he had any idea of who would be capable of doing something like that. There was something keeping you from doing just that, and you knew that it was the fact that no one else in that club knew who you were. You had mentioned that it wasn’t your first time there, but no one noticed you the first time, the dream so short and confusing that you weren’t really sure if the characters inside of it could even see you. You also couldn’t tell him that this was the most realistic dream you had ever had, so realistic that you could directly interfere with what was going on and interact with the people around you.

So you stayed in character.

“Tough days?”, you asked, and he nodded, refusing to continue his thought. “Do you mind sharing?”

“I’d rather not talk about it”, Francis explained. “It would make a pretty girl like you freak out. And I need you to be with me tonight, so I’d like it if we talked about something else.”

You tried to think of a topic. Anything that would get him so entertained that he would instantly trust you more. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Anything that has a soul”, he explained, and you wondered if he meant it or was just trying to sound smart. “It doesn’t even have to sound good, it just has to have some meaning to it, or else it’s just noises coming out from an empty heart.”

“I think all music should matter”, he looked at you funny, trying to make sense out of what you were saying. “It doesn’t have to be completely honest to be good. Sometimes, the best art we can make is produced when we’re lying to ourselves.”

“Do you lie to yourself a lot?”, he asked, his hand now settled on the middle of your thigh.

“No, I don’t think I do”, you answered, making him laugh. “But I’m not a musician, or an artist.”

Francis’ skin was warm and inviting, and every time one of you would say something you could feel each other getting closer and closer, so attracted to the other’s energy that it felt impossible to be apart.

“Then what are you?”, he asked, his voice lower than ever.

“A traveler, I would say.”

“And what are you looking for?”, now it was your time to touch his thigh, ignoring the other people present. You could tell Daniel and Jacob were quiet, not observing you, but not knowing how to continue a conversation while you and Francis connected.

“You know what I’m looking for already, Francis”, you explained, and he nodded. “Why don’t we leave so I can tell you all about it?”

That night, you let Francis take you to bed. For some reason, you weren’t sure anymore that this had a purpose, letting yourself go as he touched you, sensations more realistic than the ones you had in real life. He felt so warm that your skin was melting, and the sweat connecting the two of you felt like a reminder that you needed to let him know that you didn’t know if this was a dream anymore.

As you laid on his bed, your head resting on his bare chest, you reminded yourself of your motive. You started opening your mouth to speak when he interrupted you. “Can you call me Sam?”

You laughed. “What? Isn’t your name Francis?”, he nodded.

“Francis is my middle name. Jacob started telling people I was Francis when I was a teenager, just in case my other siblings or my parents came looking for me when I was alone at the club”, you felt the need to press yourself harder against his body as he told the story. “They would look for a Samuel, not a Francis.”

“Okay, Sam”, he smiled. “I can do that.”

You spent about an hour speaking about life, the music you liked and the plans you both had for the future. It hurt you that his future had already arrived, and he was just a fraction of your imagination, a weird dream that seemed never ending. Sam looked at you with admiration, and you wondered how many times he had taken other people from the club to bed. Certainly, never with the intention of telling him that it was all a dream and that you had slept with him to ask him about a murder.

“Look, Sam, I need to tell you something”, you started, and he sat on the bed to pay attention to you. “I know this is going to sound like the weirdest thing you have ever heard, but I need you to trust me, okay?”

He nodded, kissing your head as you sat with him.

“This isn’t real”, you explained.

“Of course it isn’t, babe, we just met.”

“I mean this whole thing”, you felt the need to clarify, too nervous to sound sane. “You’re just a person inside one of my most vivid dreams. I come from the year 2022, this is not a real setting.”

Sam strangely didn’t react to it at all, too high to understand what was going on. He just looked at you, hoping you would continue talking.

“I first met you yesterday, when I showed up at the club in my dreams. Your chest was covered in blood and you mentioned a girl named Harmony, who had just been killed in the bathroom.”

“See, this is where you’re wrong”, he whispered, like he was too scared to talk about it out loud. “Harmony died a month ago. The police interrogated all of us and still haven’t found the person who did it.”

“This happened in my dreams, Sam, you’re not a real person”, you tried explaining. You couldn’t deny just how interesting it was that someone that only existed inside of your mind was trying to prove to you that they were, in fact, completely real. “Harmony’s murder happened yesterday while I was sleeping. I woke up, had class and came back to bed to try and find you again. None of this is real, but it feels more realistic than my normal life.”

“So, let’s say this is real. I’m not a human being, I’m a creation of your brain. You live in the year 2022, and watched me from a distance as I saw one of my friends, completely covered in blood and dead”, Sam started, distancing your bodies, making sure he could look at you as he spoke. “Why did you sleep with me?”

You had to admit to yourself that you didn’t know how to answer his question. Of course, your first instinct was to tell him that you needed to sleep with him so he would trust you enough with that information. Another part of you, one that was way more hidden, was telling you that you weren’t as interested in the information about the murder as you were interested in Sam. You didn’t exactly get much attention from men in real life, and you had never felt this attraction before, so it felt like the perfect opportunity. An excuse, you thought, to figure out the case and still get to spend time with him, a mysterious, unknown, unreal man.

“Are you with the police?”, he continued, when he noticed you wouldn’t reply to his question.

“What? No, I’m not with the police”, he laughed. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth.”

Sam remained silent for too long, looking at every single thing that was not you, trying to gather his thoughts before continuing with the conversation.

“She wasn’t the first one”, he started. “I’ve lost several friends in a few weeks, all terrible murders. Harmony was the first one I found by myself, and that was when I knew the police were lying to us.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped to cover your bodies, the wind coming from the window making you shiver. “They would blame it on drugs. Saying the girls died because they overdosed, or didn’t pay for what they bought and got murdered by their dealer. We believed it for a while, but it was Harmony they were talking about, and Harmony was never involved with drugs of any sort.”

“But why would they ever say that?”, you asked, making yourself more comfortable. Sam let his arm wander, leaving it to rest on your shoulders. “Do you think they were too lazy to conduct an investigation?”

“I think they know who did it, and they’re trying to protect them”, Sam explained. “To be completely honest, as time passed and I noticed who the police were questioning and considering as suspects, I got a sense of who’s possibly the person who actually did it.”

“Do you know who’s their main suspect at this point?”, you asked.

“Can you guess?”, his laughing tone told you everything you ever needed to know. “I had her blood all over me when they found her. It was easy for them to blame me, and everyone else seems to believe their theory.”

You took your time drawing small circles with your fingers around his naked torso, paying attention to what he was saying while also trying to understand the situation to its fullest.

“But what are they telling people?”, you asked. You felt like an interviewer, like someone desperately trying to take all the information they could get. Sam didn’t seem so bothered, probably happy that someone seemed to believe him for once after the murders started. “What is the motive?”

“I don’t know, I guess they think I was hitting on her or something”, Sam explained. “Harmony and I were really good friends, but I would never try and make it romantic, and everyone knows that, but people are so overwhelmed with the whole thing that they’ll believe anything they are told.”

“What about your brother? Your friends?”, you asked, and he stopped to think about it.

“I think Jacob believes me, he always does. Daniel was with me for the entire night before I found Harmony”, Sam’s voice seemed lost in time, so choked in a cry that didn’t seem to come out that you had to look at him to make sure he was doing alright. “We had proof, we tried talking to the police about it, but if they want someone to be guilty they’ll find a way to prove it to people.”

You got up from the bed, putting on your underwear as Sam watched you, confusion expressed all over his face. It was only when you laid down again, legs intertwined and chests moving in the same rhythm, that he knew you actually believed him.

“Look, Sam, I know you might not believe my story, and I don’t blame you for that”, you started, kissing his cheek and watching as he grew fonder to your touch. “But you trusted me enough to tell me about it, so I believe it is my duty to help you find the person who did it. You told me you had a theory, would you mind sharing?”

Sam told you all about it, like an open book, like someone who was so desperate for sharing what he knew that he didn’t mind that you were, as a matter of fact, a complete stranger. He mentioned a conversation he had with Harmony days before her death. She was completely helpless as she told him all about the treatment she had been receiving from the club’s owner, Mr. Jesse Moore, someone so powerful and known to high society that it would be impossible to file a complaint. Moore had been suggesting that Harmony should work for him, and both Sam and Harmony knew what he meant by that.

The clubs in town weren’t exactly known for being ethical. Illegal drugs and acts were so natural that no one ever tried to snitch. Of course, in some senses this wasn’t exactly so hurtful, as the drugs didn’t make people kill each other all the time. What Mr. Moore was suggesting was something way deeper, something that could hurt the morals and reputation of a woman in every possible sense. He knew young women were constantly desperate for money, and would accept any offer that seemed good enough.

Sam was determined to prove that Mr. Moore was so worried that the women who rejected his proposal would tell someone about it. Sure, everyone knew it was going on, but he didn’t want to be the one known for offering this job to someone. Sometimes, and both of you knew that, people would just look for excuses to be violent, to be murderous. Sam was so sure about his theory that, before he actually met you, he was going to confront Mr. Moore about it, trying to get a confession that would not only prove that he was guilty, but would also free Sam from the accusations.

“Here’s what I think we should do”, you started, taking his attention as he finished his story. “We’re going to sleep, and when you wake up I will probably not be here anymore. But I’ll try my hardest to come back tomorrow, and we are going to talk to him, how does that sound?”

Sam laughed, hugging you by your waist and making you look at him as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “It sounds like you do not care about your well-being.”

You had to laugh with him, this time. “Well, this version of me is not exactly real, so why should I be worried?”

“Words, words, words”, he mumbled, trying to make you settle as you got ready to sleep. “Good night, Y/N, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You didn’t have time to respond when you were taken from your dreams and woken up violently by rain noises hitting your old bedroom window. You looked sweaty and your hair smelled funny. The most shocking thing is that you were only in your underwear. You wondered if, in a weird state of dreaming, you got up to take off your clothes to match your dream persona. The thought was pulled from you when you realized you still had to live your life as usual, waiting patiently for the night to hit you again.

Something had changed in college today. Someone, although you didn’t exactly recognize her, talked to you during your lunch break. She had a kind smile and the type of face that you would rarely forget, features so strong and remarkable that they made her look out of this world. Something about her, then, reminded you of someone else, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Do you mind if I sit here with you?”, she asked first, and you nodded as she got comfortable beside you. “I’m Misty.”

“Oh, nice to meet you, Misty. I’m Y/N”, you replied.

A silence ever so comfortable washed over the both of you, staying there for a few minutes while you tried to think of something to say to someone so new.

“What are you listening to?”, was the best thing you could think of.

“Led Zeppelin!”, she simply replied, offering one of her earphones. You took it gladly. “My grandfather is really into them, we used to listen to it all the time when I was a kid. Funny enough, my great-uncle can make a mean Robert Plant impression.”

“I had a friend in middle school who was so into Led Zeppelin he would talk about it for hours”, you said. Misty laughed at your comment, getting her body closer to yours so you could share the earphones more comfortably. “I really like your necklace!”

You pointed at the necklace Misty was wearing, with a tiny crystal hanging from a simple string. The crystal shined as she moved closer to the sun, becoming even more green. She turned her head down to look at it, holding the stone in her hand. “Thank you! My grandpa gave it to my mother when she was my age, so now it’s mine.”

“You seem to be really close to your grandpa”, you noted, and Misty nodded. That was the first time in a while when you noticed just how much you missed your own grandparents.

“We are a very close family, yes”, she explained. “My grandpa moved in with us when my dad died. He needed someone to look after him, and me and my mom needed someone to keep us company, so it worked out just fine.”

“He’s lucky to have you guys!”, you said. Misty seemed welcoming, so sweet that you almost doubted her. Somehow, everyone else seemed rude when next to her. “I lost all of my grandparents when I was very young, so it’s nice to see that you keep him close by.”

Misty started getting up after checking her phone for the time, but not before she said goodbye to you, still so caring and sweet that it made you smile. “You’re welcome to visit us anytime if you ever need the company”, she said, as she walked away.

And you actually considered her offer.

When you first entered your building, you were instantly greeted by the landlord, a nice man who had been nothing but helpful to you after you moved in. He looked at you and smiled, noticing just how tired you were from your day of classes, and offered you one of the cookies he had in a tiny jar. He only started talking when you denied his offer.

“How have you been enjoying your room, miss?”, he asked. “Haven’t seen you around much, was wondering if you were doing alright.”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine, the room has been treating me well!”, you answered. He laughed, nodding as you continued. “I have just been a little busy with college, that’s all.”

“It’s weird. You’re the first person to stay in this room for this long”, he said. “Everyone seems to have the craziest nightmares when they’re sleeping there.”

This couldn’t be correct. To be honest, you weren’t exactly surprised by his revelation. “Oh? And why is that?”

“We never figured it out. I’m guessing it’s something about the colors of the walls or the humidity, but everyone has the same experience.”

“That’s strange. I guess I didn’t have the same luck, then!”, you lied, and you could tell just how much he could read right past you. “I’m really sorry, sir, but I need to go. I have a ton of homework to do and I would like it to be done before it’s my bedtime.”

You wondered how much he actually knew about the subject. You wondered, especially, just how many people had seem Sam and that murder situation happening multiple times, unable to stop it.

The night took long to pass, your mind wandering as you tried to do as much as you could to be productive and not think of the things you would see during the night. Sam was a constant thought, your new made up love affair making you blush at the smallest of memories. You felt like a teenage girl secretly thinking about her crush. The only differences were that he felt the same, and that he wasn’t exactly real.

When you finally started falling asleep, something felt different. Darker, more mysterious, carrying you with an uncomfortable pace. As you first opened your eyes, you saw yourself in the mirror. This was the same bathroom where Harmony had been killed, you remembered it from the tiny portion of it you could see when Sam came out of it. Your makeup was smeared, and the sting in your arm made you notice the drops of blood coming out of a wound.

Jacob found you first, taking off his shirt and pressing the material to your arm. “Where’s Sam?”, you asked. Jacob smiled at you, trying to make you calm down a little before every sensation became a little too much for you to handle.

“We lost him. He ran away, saying something about Moore”, he replied. You looked at him with pure terror. “I don’t know what he was talking about, but he seemed mad. Did he see you like this?”

“I don’t know”, you said. And you really didn’t know. Everything except for looking at yourself in the mirror was a blur, and you couldn’t help but notice how your dream skipped the part where you got hurt. “I need to find him, Jake, he’s in danger.”

Jacob reluctantly let you go, still making sure that you were pressing his shirt against the part of your arm that was still bleeding. The outside didn’t seem to realize the situation that was going on, as everyone still danced and laughed. You had no issues passing through all of those people, and you could hear his voice immediately when you went outside.

Sam looked distraught, his face contorted into someone you didn’t recognize.

“What are you doing outside? I told you to wash your wound while I looked for him”, he asked.

“What are you talking about, Sam? I just got here, I looked at myself and saw all this blood”, you replied, as confused as he was.

You now understood that, even if this was a state of dreaming, the early minutes of your sleep still counted as an alternate reality, even the ones you didn’t remember. Sam could tell how this was making you feel, as wrapped his arms around you as soon as he made sure he wouldn’t hit your arm.

“You confronted him without me”, he explained. “When I found you, he wasn’t there anymore, and you were bleeding. I’m guessing you used your arm to defend yourself from a stab, and thank God he was too lazy to try again.”

You stayed silent for a moment, trying to understand what was going on. “What are we gonna do now?”

“I am going to kill him for hurting you”, he explained, without leaving you time to protest. “And you’re going to hold on to that gun and watch your back as I look for him.”

“Sam, are you sure this is a good idea? He murders people for fun, just because he wants to”, you tried reasoning with him. Of course, you were sure it wouldn’t work. “We can go to the police, I can testify and tell them that he hurt me. I have a giant wound bleeding right now, for fuck’s sake.”

Sam didn’t look at you as he kept walking, his hand holding your waist tightly as he carried you with him. He looked at you, handing you the gun he had previously talked about. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Yes, my dad taught me when I was younger”, you explained. “It was the weirdest thing for so many years, never thought I would actually have to use that knowledge.”

He explained to you that you were walking to Mr. Moore’s house, not too far away. You were quiet as you walked, fear expressed clearly on his face. In a certain way, Sam was just a good kid trying to help people the way he knew how to help. He had seen injustice in the way these women had been murdered, had been considered a prime suspect for no reason and now had to watch as you got hurt trying to protect him.

When you arrived, the air was cold and it was too dark to see. You couldn’t gather your thoughts as you recognized the fact that you were about to kill a person so wicked that they would kill for no reason, for a reputation they needed to preserve in any way possible. Sam had his arm around you, desperately trying to remain in contact with your skin as if it was the last time he would ever get to touch you. You nodded at him when he entered the house alone, the door opened as if Mr. Moore was expecting him. You silently promised him that you would take care.

The first five minutes of Sam being inside the house were desperately quiet. So quiet that you could hear everything going on around you, except for his voice. Then, as a surprise, you heard something breaking inside of the house. As an instinct, you opened the door, even if you knew you weren’t supposed to. You heard Sam’s voice first, a desperate call to your name. When you followed his voice, you made sure that Mr. Moore couldn’t see you.

You could see Sam, and you knew he could see you as well. Mr. Moore crushed Sam’s body with his own, taking advantage from the fact that Sam had such a lean figure. His hands covered Sam’s throat as his face got to a deep purple tone, desperately longing for fresh air. You could see Sam’s gun on the ground, a sight of conflict and fighting that made your lips shiver in despair.

You didn’t quite understand violence. You never did, especially in cases like this when the author of the violence had no actual reason to do it. He was just a sad, lonely man who needed to hurt women so he could feel good about himself. Violence didn’t make sense. It was a desperate response to something within ourselves that we couldn’t quite control, but that we knew all too well.

Violence didn’t make sense. So, when your shaking hands pulled the trigger and shot the unknown man in the head, you didn’t quite understand it. You never did. He fell like an inanimate creature, so devoid of soul and life that it took you a few minutes to understand exactly what you had done.

Sam didn’t seem so much better, his face still showing the lack of air he had just been through. You helped him get up, watching as he catched his breath again. As soon as he returned to some kind of normal state, you helped him get out of the house. You would worry about the guns and the dead body laying in the living room later, right now, it needed to be all about him.

“You do know that I need to go, right?”, you asked, making Sam laugh for the first time ever since you found him that evening. “I shouldn’t have done this, Sam, this is going to bring you even more trouble and I’m so irrespo-”

Sam had this way of making you shut up. First, it was his eyes and how he looked at you, second, it was the way he spoke to you with no shame or reservation to his voice. Now, it was the way he kissed you, so slowly and passionately that it made you forget your acts. His mouth felt real, his body felt real, the affection you both had developed for each other felt so real that it was suffocating you.

“I do know that you have to leave me”, he answered, still giving you small, short kisses. “And I promise I’m gonna deal with it, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Responsibility hit you like a train. It took you too long to realize that you didn’t exactly exist in that reality. That it was just a silly dream, filled with heavy plots and hot characters, just like any other horror movie. Sam wouldn’t be blamed for anything, and neither would you, because none of it was real.

Still, when you pressed your lips against his again, you could feel him entirely. His beating heart against your chest, his wandering hands exploring you with a passion of someone who barely survived and wasn’t sure about tomorrow, his mouth and yours, connected as unexpected lovers, separated by destiny and by years.

You looked at your arm, still bloody, now matching Sam’s body. He kissed your hand before letting you go, and you turned to look back at him when you woke up.

You knew you would never get to see him again. You would move out of that room, forget the funny memories created by your own head, forget murder and violence, forget the situation you had created to yourself. But you would never, ever forget him.

- - -

Misty opened the door to her house, which looked just as welcoming as her. The walls were covered in family pictures and the floor had every possible flower and plant you had ever seen. This felt like the house of someone who knew how to enjoy life as an experience, not as a phase. Her mother joined you after hearing the noise, and you were weirded out by how much they looked like each other.

“Oh, darling, welcome!”, she said, her voice a little higher than you expected. “Misty told me all about you, we’re so happy to have you.”

“I am so sorry I showed up empty handed, we just left college and I didn’t have any time to make something”, you explained. “But I’ll gladly help with dinner, if you need me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that”, Misty’s mother calmed you, setting her hand on your back as she made Misty join you. “Why don’t you go to the living room as I get everything set? Misty, honey, grandpa told me he needs help with one of his vinyls, something about a scratch.”

When you entered the living room, an old man was sitting on the couch, trying to figure out how to fix an old vinyl. You noticed just how many vinyls they had, an interesting collection clearly started by the grandpa. He turned to look at you, but he didn’t seem to react as he put on his glasses.

Something warned you about a memory hidden deep inside of you. What was so interesting is that this was a fresh memory, so fresh that you didn’t even have to force yourself to recognize the person in front of you. It was the eyes, deep and brown with a mistique seen rarely. Those eyes seemed to know who you were, too, as they analyzed your face so profoundly that it took you both some time to finally start acting like normal human beings again.

“Hey, grandpa! Mom said you needed some help, why don’t you give me the vinyl so I can check it out?”, Misty started, his eyes still glued to you. “Oh, this is my friend from college, Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you”, he said. “Y/N.”

You nodded as Misty started trying to fix his vinyl, talking to her grandfather and leaving you comfortable to do whatever you wanted to do as you waited for dinner. His eyes, still focused on you, seemed like a reminder of a past that you didn’t quite understand, but you certainly knew in a sense.

Misty told you she would be helping her mother in the kitchen, and nicely asked you to pay some attention to her grandfather as she was away, unaware of the situation. As soon as she left, his face dropped to a serious expression.

“He told me about what you said to him when you met”, he started. “I didn’t believe him. None of us did, in fact. It sounded like an excuse to let him go, to disappear without having to deal with his emotions. But here you are.”

“I would have never left if it wasn’t for a good reason”, you explained. “We didn’t belong to the same reality. I wasn’t even sure if you were real, but here you are.”

The silence that dropped between the two of you seemed like one of remembrance and understanding. He had spent the entirety of his life thinking his sibling had made up a story about some weird sort of time traveling, and his sibling spent the entirety of his life believing you would come back.

“It’s nice to see you, Jacob”, you simply said, making him laugh. “Although I did see you yesterday.”

“I guess it took me longer to see you”, it was now your time to giggle. “He would have loved to meet you again. We did have to move out for a few years because of you, but that’s only a matter of detail.”

“Oh, yeah! How is he doing?”, you asked. Jacob looked at you, and you instantly knew what he meant.

“He died two years ago. Natural causes, happily”, he started explaining. “You don’t have to worry about it, he eventually got over you. It isn’t exactly easy to forget someone who quite literally killed for you.”

“God, I wish he could know I was telling the truth.”

Jacob nodded. “I’m sure he did. Or he would have stopped mentioning it. I guess he could feel your presence.”

Misty came back before you could continue your conversation. Having a meal with them felt weirder than you thought it would, but you didn’t mind. If Jacob was real, it meant Sam was too, and that was all you ever needed to know.

That night, before you left, Jacob hugged you tight, without caring about what his family would think. He opened your hands and left a tiny picture of Sam drop in them. You smiled as you looked at the picture, Sam, his long hair and kind smile looking at the picture fondly. This was the Sam you knew.

Hope never left you that someday, as the world moved forward and your life came and went away, the two of you would be born in the same decade. So close, yet far away enough that the discovery of your affection would feel like a nice surprise. There was no stopping time, and there was no stopping this connection you had formed with him.

taglist: @doodle417 @a-bouquet-of-lilies

#Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka

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otterbagel · 3 years

Text

The Reunion (Part 1) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: There are two parts to this! Next part should be out next week. I'll probably start spacing out my posts after this so I don't get burnt out like last time. Also, didn't get to edit this one as much as I should've; the whole thing ended up pretty long and would take a long time everytime I tried to edit it. Can't believe it took me this long to finish one about Simon!!!)

"Hey, this is quite the unusual find, you gotta admit."

Your eyebrow raised without hesitation, your eyes looking down to check your shoes. "Not really," you remarked softly, eyes going back up to meet the object of the discussion: a PL600 android.

The salesman, who had uncomfortably started hounding you for the sale after you had curiously drifted towards the humanoid, was gesturing towards it flippantly with a toothy grin. "At this price?! Tell me, no, tell me where you found one this cheap— in this good a condition?"

Your mouth automatically frowned. The arms were covered by a dark undershirt that made most of the skin unseeable— any damage not on the face and hands wouldn't be factored into the buying purchase. You had a feeling this clothing choice was intentional.

"Just three hundred bucks!" The seller's round face turned into your line of sight. You quickly looked away out of discomfort.

Your eyes landed onto the android's clear blue ones. You hadn't looked very closely at any androids before, despite walking amongst them nearly every day. Did they all look this lifelike?

Maybe you were looking way too into it.

You swallowed, aggressively fumbling for your wallet with a grunt of annoyance. "Okay, fine. Three hundred."

With a pleased noise, the seller took off with your card, waving it in the air between two of his fingers.

You crossed your arms beside the android, who didn't seem to take any notice of what had just transpired.

…

Reality had begun to hit you like a truck on the way home.

By the time you opened the door to your tiny house, you realized just how big of a rash decision you had just made.

The android stood behind you quietly and without complaint as you released the door handle, letting the door softly bang against the wall. You stared dumbly into your own house, coat hanging limply from one of your dangling arms as you searched your brain for a solution.

You frowned, shaking your head rapidly. "I have no room for this."

"Excuse me—"

You jumped at the android's sudden intrusion into your own self reprimand, a small noise of fright escaping you before you could even begin to think of holding it back.

"—would you like me to get started?"

"Uh, yeah yeah yeah, uh… do whatever you want," you waved it off awkwardly, holding a hand to your chest as you attempted to catch your breath. You hurried inside, embarrassed of the whole situation.

You sat down on the couch as the android closed the door and walked past you and into the kitchen.

Without turning it on, you stared at the TV as your fingertips rubbed against your face in nervousness.

That had been such an impulse buy. You couldn't believe you had done that.

The faucet turned on for a moment. You think you had put a cup in there, but there wasn't much else to clean.

It seemed to be working properly. The guy who sold it was certainly odd and abrasive, but all in all it was a pretty good deal. Usually they were more than twice as much; newer models so expensive that the thought of you owning one was impossible. Even if it had some cosmetic damages, that was a small issue compared to its functionality.

Trying to ignore the strange new entity in the house, you flipped on the TV. It was the news.

There was some story about a recent fire that had decimated a small apartment building on the outskirts of Detroit. The police said it likely had something to do with Red Ice, although most evidence would probably be destroyed.

The android had finished whatever it was doing in the kitchen and had quietly begun watching the TV from the archway.

You looked at it as it parted its lips in preparation to speak. "Are you a fan of the news?"

"Sort of," you chuckled, looking back to the screen. "I work at a newstation— not this one, but I like checking it out from time to time."

The android nodded, continuing to watch the screen as it held its hands politely behind its back.

You looked it over, getting that feeling of nervousness again. "W-what's your name?" You blurted out quietly and without any grace.

It blinked at you, the LED spinning blue for a second. "My previous owners named me Simon. Would you like to change my name?"

You shook your head to yourself. "Do you like your name?"

It squinted at you in confusion before returning to its natural, composed look. "It's good," it responded.

Although you tried to maintain a jovial body language, you weren't doing a good job. "Great! Si… Simon is a great name," you chirped out awkwardly.

"Thank you," Simon replied, giving a small head bow.

You turned your head away from it as you felt your face grow warm with embarrassment.

What on Earth was happening to you?

…

You had been having a strange dream about work when you heard someone calling your name.

"...huh…?" you called out groggily.

Your name again. "...I think you're going to be late for work at this rate…"

Your eyes fluttered open. Simon was fiddling with his hands as he held them in front of his chest, eyes moving between you and the clock beside the bed.

It said 8:32.

The comforter was flung nearly off the bed as you jumped up in a panic. "Oh geez, yeah I'm gonna be late…" Random clothes filled your arms that you grabbed from your drawers as you prepared to go to work. "Thanks for waking me."

Simon quietly made his way over to you as you tried finding a pair of socks. "I didn't hear you walking around this morning," he said with a chuckle. "And where you stayed up later than usual last night… I figured…"

A laugh escaped you as you headed off towards the bathroom to get ready.

He had been living here… maybe three months? It had seemed like a much longer time than that. In that amount of time, things had definitely changed between you two.

Despite it being his intended purpose, it felt strange to have someone doing all your housework for you. It became an odd ritual pretty quickly: once you got home, you would work on chores together. Not that there were many— that was one of the perks of having a small house— but it just made you feel better about the whole thing.

The whole process was a bit cathartic for you; away from the hustle and bustle of the busy, stressful life at the newstation and into a warm, domestic one.

You hurried to the front door to slip on your shoes, Simon leaving his spot on the couch to see you off.

"I think I'll make it on time," you joked as you looked up at him. "Thanks again."

"No problem…" he responded quietly, struggling to retain eye contact with you.

As you rose to your feet, he gave you a brief hug. Your face immediately began to burn bright red.

"Have… have a good day at work…" he stuttered out before walking in quick strides to the kitchen.

You were still frozen in place by the time he exited your vision. "Y-you too…" you blurted out before fumbling out the door, realizing your linguistic blunder before you had even closed the door.

As you headed down the street, you let your hands touch your heated face.

…

You had nearly run home out of excitement.

It had been such a small thing, but the prospects of your future career had your mind going nuts.

After fumbling to get the key in the door and tossing it open, you slung your coat off your arms in a fluid motion. "Simon! Simon! You won't believe it!"

He was sitting on the couch— like he usually had been over the past year— engaged in some overly dramatic show you weren't particularly fond of. His eyes were wide at your sudden entrance. "Yes?"

You let the door make its way closed before you kicked it shut behind you, holding your arms out. "They said they liked my article!"

Simon stared for a moment before his LED flashed in excitement. "THE article?" He sat up on the edge of his seat, smiling at you as he was filled with a wave of positive energy.

"Yeah!" You nodded. "Not to get you too excited, but they're showing it to some of the higher ups, but it looks like I might get my own schedule slot soon!"

"Oh wow!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet and taking you into his arms to lift you up for a split second. "I knew it would happen! I'm so proud!"

You erupted into a fit of giggles as he held you, almost enjoying his praise as much as your own success. "Thanks Simon, I couldn't have done it without you."

He released you, letting his hands rest against your sides. "That's not true," he responded quietly, his face red as he looked to the side.

With a warm smile, you nodded to him. "Yes," you drawed out for effect. "You even came up with the idea. And, not to mention, the moral support."

He stepped back a little, crossing his arms as he attempted to hide his expression of happiness. "You're too kind."

The TV played in the silence, Simon fiddling with the edge of one of his sleeves as he pulled it down.

Your mind raced as you looked at his hand, debating on bringing it up right now when the mood was so light.

"They mentioned… uh... increasing my pay," you began, watching his expression for any hint of distress. "I thought that maybe… we could finally… you know… get that fixed…"

His hands trailed along his sleeve as he nodded to himself, seemingly lost in thought. "Yeah," he responded. "That would be nice… but it would be so expensive… are you sure?"

It had taken a few weeks to first see it, and even longer for you to see the full extent of the damage, but your initial thoughts had been correct. The long sleeves had been put on him for a reason, and it had seemed as though it had gradually become a personal choice as well.

His forearms and biceps had a lot of physical damage, certainly from his previous owners.

Luckily, it had been almost purely cosmetic. Aside from a few light dents and scratches to his actual body, it was just a matter of getting the covering fixed. As of now, the white sheen of his android body was always visible underneath his sleeves.

You wrung your hands together out of nervousness. "I just know how you said that you wanted it fixed," you took in a sharp inhale. "It won't be a problem to actually do, I've already been saving for a while…"

He smiled, rushing in to hug you again. You, a bit caught off guard this time, was frozen in place.

"I'd like to put the past behind me," he said as you finally came to and hugged him back, albeit still in a bit of a shock. "I think this is the first step."

As you embraced, you couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement and anxiety.

#dbh x reader #dbh simon #dbh simon x reader

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