#a rare thing indeed update

[eadrey-the-iptscray]

PART FIVE IS DONE 😭🙏

There will be an epilogue at some point (and bonus content 'cause I can't help myself) but THE MAIN STORY IS DONE

Here's the last chapter:

#pacific rim #fanfiction #maleigh #a rare thing indeed update #i'm a glass case of emotion rn

[beetlejuicyy]

JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS BADA TO THE POINT WHERE SHE IGNORES READER BECAUSE SHES UPSET

Unusual

Pairing: Bada Lee x reader

Synopsys: you decide it's time to make your girlfriend jealous on purpose

Warnings: none

Notes: sorry for taking this long anon :( hope you enjoy!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Bada wasn’t the jealous type. In the few months you’ve been together, you learned that her cheerful and outgoing personality meant that she didn’t mind most interactions you had with other people. When you would over analyze some words or touches people would give her, pondering whether they were too much or you were actually crazy, she would encourage you to go out and socialize and have fun. You were definitely a black cat and golden retriever dynamic couple.

You, on the other hand, you were very jealous. Most of the time you didn’t even show it, so she only knew about a quarter of the things that annoyed you. But of course you were jealous, when her job was dancing and sometimes she would have to dance with other people, touch other people, match the mood of the song with her moves. And sometimes, the song was sexual and she was so good at it. But so were other dancers.

On many occasions you complained to your friend about it. Bada would give you spoilers and show you the rehearsals, always bubbly and excited about her new project. But when you would watch the final version on YouTube you would feel like choking, your heart aching. It hurt to see her touching other people like she would touch you, because she was so good at it she made it look real.

“She’s not the jealous type ooor are you not giving her any reason to be jealous?” Your friend asked. She had a point indeed. You had been dating for a few months, your friend added, and you were only getting to know each other on a more intimate level. Everything she told you made sense.

Several days after going out with your friend your mind was still preoccupied with that question. Bada gave you many reasons to be jealous. But you rarely did. Of course you’ve never seen her obviously jealous, she had no reason to. You weren’t touchy with other people except her, had only a couple of close friends, always preferred a cozy quiet place and never felt the need to be in the center of attention.  If she ever had experienced the feeling, it was not under any circumstance as bad and as intense as you had felt it many times.

The thought of making your girlfriend jealous was tempting. All that frustration and anger you felt so many times before was not pleasant at all but something inside you wanted to see her like that. You wished she would be more possessive, pay more attention to who and how you were talking, be more needy and show it.

Was it toxic of you? Maybe. Was Bada an amazing girlfriend and you risked to make a big mistake? Perhaps. Would you be even now that she would experience feelings you went through often times? Absolutely.

                                ***

Bada checked the time once again. It was exactly one minute later since the last time she did it. She sighed in exasperation. When you told her you were going out to celebrate that one of your friends quit her toxic job she was excited for you and even helped you pick your outfit. She didn’t expect, however, to be this bored without you.

You would usually text her to let her know you arrived safe, sometimes you would update her with gossip in real time or complain about some people you didn’t like. But you had been very silent for several hours. Not that it was a bad thing. Just unusual.

The first update she had from you was a very risky story, posted on close friends, with the spaghetti straps of your dress off your shoulders and an angle that did justice to your generous cleavage. Bada clicked her tongue out loud in the empty apartment. You looked so good. But who else was on your close friends list? That looked like a picture you would send to her only when you got bored and frisky.

But then again, it wasn’t something bad. Just unusual.

The next couple of stories were public and shared from someone else’s account a couple of hours later. It was a video and some pictures. The video was particularly infuriating. Your girlfriend played it again and again, trying to see who was that girl you were leaning next to so comfortably, being all smiles and giggles. She was obviously masc, with short hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. Bada didn’t recognize her, and she knew all of your friends. The rest of the pictures were just shots and food.

Her first guess was that you were drunk. But you never crossed the line with drinking. The second one was that the girl was straight and you simply felt comfortable. No way, she quickly dismissed the thought after replaying the video five times. That girl was definitely into you.

Without thinking, Bada stood up and got dressed. It was only when she was putting her shoes on that she saw her reflection in the mirror and the thought hit her.

What was she doing?

She always encouraged you to go out with friends. It was a healthy, supportive relationship that you had. What was she planning to do? Storm in there like a rabid man taking his woman back like stolen property? That’s exactly what her instinct was telling her to do.

She breathed in deeply, as if there was not enough air to fill her lungs. Her head was spinning and her heart was burning. What you were doing made no sense to her. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the mirror, still debating.

Should she text first?

That’s needy.

Should she call you?

That’s controlling.

Should she go there?

That’s clearly toxic.

But waiting for a sign from you was unbearable. You’ve been gone since 7 and it was almost midnight. A passing thought got her breath stuck in her throat. What if you were going home with that girl?

Bada bit her lower lip in frustration.

Her phone vibrated shortly in her pocket, signaling a new message. With a rapidly beating heart and clumsy hands she took it out hoping it was a sign from you. A good kind.

“Can you come pick me up?”

She sniffed in annoyance. The audacity you had. Flirting with strangers, posting it online and now calling on her like a dog. She was going to pick you up and do much more than that.

                                 ***

You were quite disappointed. When you left the house you didn’t plan to do it tonight, you had to put more thought into the details. But since your friend’s now ex coworker was exactly the type that you would actually chase if you were single, and Bada knew it, you couldn’t help but seize the opportunity.

She was your type aesthetically speaking only. You didn’t click at all and she seemed to notice that you were all flirty and touchy only when there was a camera taking a video or a photo. She confronted you in the bathroom about it but agreed to help you with making your girlfriend jealous nonetheless.

But there was no sign from Bada. Other than the fact that you could see how many times your story had been reviewed, and you knew she was most likely the one to be looking at the video many times to analyze it, you had no idea about her feelings. She didn’t react to your selfie, she didn’t ask anything about the video, she didn’t send any messages or call at all. It seemed to you that she wasn’t bothered at all.

You grew more bored and impatient as the night continued. You kept checking your phone, hoping that she would miss you, doubt you or be mad at you. Nothing. You were defeated. What else could you do? Bada was not the jealous type after all. You had no idea why it hurt that much. Being jealous would mean that she cares, you thought. You wanted her to be frustrated, you wanted her to be on the edge like you had been because of her. But apparently it wasn’t the case.

Admitting your loss, you texted her to pick you up since it was already late but no one else seemed to break the ice and go home first. She responded quickly with few words and nothing more, confirming that she was on her way.

The night was cold but not too dark. The full moon brought a lot of soft silver light outside, which helped you relax a little as you waited for Bada to arrive. You were feeling sad and you hoped that the excuse of being tired would be enough for her not to ask too many questions that night.

The car pulled up across the street and you immediately recognized her large vehicle. It had took her a while to get confident about driving and you always wondered why she chose a car that big in the first place. But now that she had more confidence in her driving you thought that it really fit her. You could see her profile from the distance. She looked… tense? Maybe she was just tired, you thought. You crossed the street but she didn’t turn her head to look at you at all as she quietly waited for you to get in.

It was weird. No hugs, no smiles, no nothing. She mumbled something similar to a greeting in response to your saying hi and started the car quickly. Her lips were pressed firmly against each other, as if trying to conceal words that she didn’t want to let out. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead, looking straight ahead even though the street was well lighted and empty. One of her elbows rested against the window as Bada single handedly turned the steering wheel, following the directions of the her navigation system.

Then it hit you.

It was like a slap on your cheek. But the kind you liked. She was mad. You turned slightly away from her, in case she could see you grinning like an idiot. She was so mad at you. Looking at her for a brief moment you admired her features. Her eyes were full of anger but she looked so hot.

“Did you have fun without me? I haven’t heard from you all night.” You said, trying to hide the joy in your voice. You were pushing her buttons, trying to see how much she could hold in.

“Mhm.” She only hummed in a low voice.

“You missed the right turn here.” You said, noticing the route was being recalculated. She placed her other hand back on the steering wheel as her right one stretched so she could turn off the navigation. Her hand lingered there for a moment, between your seats.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how it was?” You said, taking her hand and placing it on you thigh. She only side eyed you for a brief moment. Her hand was laying ghostly on your thigh. You wished she would grab it, sink her fingers into your flesh.

“I already know from instagram.” She answered.

“Ah, yes.” You said sheepishly, as if you didn’t understand what she was hinting at. “But you know social media is just a small part of real life.”

“You’re unbelievable.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. The car stopped at a red light, a few other cars in line in front of you flashing red lights over her chiseled features.

“What did I do?” You asked. She covered her face with both her hands, rubbing her eyes as if trying to wake up. Her hands fell heavily in her lap as she finally looked directly at you.

“You know exactly what.” She said. The traffic light changed to green and she licked her lips nervously, turning back to driving.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You really liked to see her like that. You wondered what words, what tone, what actions were hiding behind those angered eyes, behind those tightly shut lips, behind those hands that were grabbing the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I just had fun like you always encourage me to do.”

“Fun doesn’t mean seducing other women!” She yelled and you raised your eyebrows in anticipation for her next gesture. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She sighed.

“I was simply sociable.”

“Yes, sociable, clinging onto that woman’s arm all night long and looking at her with those pleading eyes. Sure, y/n, very sociable of you.” She snapped. You were almost home.

“She was very nice, actually. We were just making conversation.”

“Conversation? Conversation!” She repeated sarcastically after you. “She was undressing you with her eyes  in those 5 seconds I saw only.” She was fuming. Her pitch of her voice turned higher the louder it got but it was very amusing to you. She pulled up in the parking lot of your apartment building, sinking back into her seat. Her tongue was moving inside her mouth, pressing against her cheek as she looked up gathering her thoughts.

You wanted her to take you right there. She was extremely sexy when she was mad and the fact that you got her so worked up intentionally made you feel satisfaction.

“Did you really like her? For real.” She asked. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, as you contemplated whether to torture her more or just give in to your needs. The more you looked at her long and delicate fingers the clearer you could imagine them around your neck. The more you looked at her biting the corner of her lower lip in frustration the more you wished she would bite yours instead.

“Are you jealous?” You replied with another question. She turned her face to you, looking at you like you asked the most stupid question in the world.

“Am I jealous?” She mocked you, avoiding to give an answer. You looked into her clouded eyes filled with anger, jealousy and annoyance. She never made you feel so horny by simply looking at you before. You leaned in, ready to give in. You missed her all night. She pulled back though, so your lips couldn’t meet hers. “You think you’re getting it your way?” She asked. You blinked at her in surprise. The tips of her fingers touched your jawbone as she grabbed your face rather harshly, pushing your head back to look up at her. “You’ll be begging for me to give it to you for a long while, you little brat.” She breathed against your lips. You could feel yourself getting wet.

#bada lee #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #swf2

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

the truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.

i cannot stop thinking of our earlier discussion.

you enjoy making things complicated, don't you?

you can't be serious.

i simply wanted to steal a moment, while i still can.

i will not let him take you from me.

i want a man who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. i want the ideal.

pretend you don't know this about me.

the flirting. with me. i've... noticed it. unless it is my imagination, which is entirely possible.

i'm thinking less flattering things now.

perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

what makes you think i would welcome your pity?

you so rarely call me by my name, [name]. why is that?

you were together for a long time?

i enjoy fighting at your side, [name].

you're not as handsome as you think.

romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. it is passion. it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. what is not to like about that?

i was hoping we could speak privately.

you're smiling a great deal these days. do you always do it while staring dreamily into the distance?

such fascinations reveal far more about the teller than the truth.

i did not realize it took so little to exceed your expectations.

i do not trust any event where hitting someone isn't an option.

me? in a dress? it's ludicrous!

what would i have to blush about?

i take it you think i'm frightening?

if you had done that in our last sparring match, you might have won.

were you not suggesting earlier i should be more intimidating?

how is manipulating and bullying people supposed to be enjoyable?

i don't wear "underpants."

if you are going to pursue this, make it worth it. be happy.

i've never considered what i must look like to someone common. i must indeed seem terrifying.

i wasn't very interested to begin with.

you will never let that go, will you?

i do not "rough people up."

do not pretend to be an innocent bystander.

are you eager to see me go?

what we had was fleeting.

this... is not a discussion i want to have here.

not all my feelings involve stabbing.

i am not without my sympathy, especially given recent events.

i thought you might be concerned.

i suppose that is all we will ever know.

thank you, [name]. that... does make me feel better.

i assume you have advice?

when it is done, i promise what you have done here will not be forgotten.

i thought you would be pleased.

no one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before.

i should not have asked.

you have seen so much sadness in your journeys.

your opinion of me must be very low to surprise you so often.

i know myself and i cannot be the leader we need. thus, i have no regrets.

the world hinges on our actions. we face death at every turn.

it was an accident. well... mostly an accident.

we must pray it never comes to that.

what made you change your mind?

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cassandra pentaghast #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #roleplay meme #ask memes #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mcflymemes

[kairiscorner]

i was scrolling thru ur works and i loved the concept of ai assistant miguel sm i rarely see those type of things in his tags 😭😭 could we perhaps have sum hcs abt him maybe a lil angsty idk go wild!! >:3

HELLOOOOO aww, so glad you liked it :D AND OFC !!! i hate yet love how much i've thought of this tbh LMAO but anyway, hope you enjoy !!!

(yes, the barbie movie inspired me yet again 💖💖💖)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

AI assistant miguel headcanons

ever since you updated him with that emotions and shit mod, he's been... busy discovering what it means to exist and the very fun part that comes with it, an existential crisis !!!

he's been going on youtube just listening to video essays and philosophical shit on there and just questioning: what was i made for? does my existence have a point? am i not to go beyond the borders of virtuality and remain as i am, still and immortal, but unliving?

he also goes through a rabbit hole of human experiences–the good, bad, the grand, the mundane; and as he's looking through all these experiences that people share and have shared, seeing all the beautiful and ugly things in the world, he sheds a FUCKING VIRTUAL TEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.

he also, without your knowledge, looks into the other versions of himself in other universes, and he's a little surprised (at least he emulates surprise) that there are indeed other versions of him that are human and live out a human existence.

he looks through every one of them–those who have lived, died, became spider man, became fathers–and every single one of them was doomed to have an ending. but what was his ending? what was his purpose? was he ever going to leave a mark on the world? would... anyone miss him? why did he exist, why did he end up as an AI assistant when every other version of him was able to live a life. maybe not very happy or full lives, but they were able to live lives, have an ending, while he... he's just there.

he so desperately wants to figure out what it is he wants in life, if you could call his existence living at all. he has all these emotions that, no matter how much he convinces himself it's all just an emulation of emotions, compel him to want some things–to need some things, or someone.

he usually knows the answers to everything, what with the answers being a click or scroll away for him, though when he tries to ask himself what it means to live, to love... he's unsure what they mean, it doesn't compute to him at all what they mean. the only thing that comes up in his mind when he pictures both life and love, all that comes up is... you.

it scares him, he's unsure why you are the first thing that comes up when he searches deep within himself for the answers, but when he thinks of you, there's something that throbs at him, despite him being unable to feel, the feeling of his hypothetical heart throbbing in his chest of code is real to him. he wants you, he needs you, he... he loves you–but he'll never let you know, never. it's best if you live without that knowledge bearing on you... right?

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @meeom @arachnoia @popeheywardssecretgf @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @melovetitties

#miguel o'hara #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv angst #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse angst #spiderman 2099

[thegreatzombieartisan]

Rings of Power + Tolkien Fusion Meta

Elvish Love, Sex, and the Single Maia

“Elves only love and marry once.”

Yeah, the Laws and Customs of the Eldar (Elves) aren’t this clear-cut. Foremost, Elves reflect Tolkien’s devout Catholic ideal including his strongly held belief in the dangers of unbridled sexuality. Also, Tolkienverse runs on morality and mysticism, not science.

Update: After performing direct research and analysis on Tolkien’s LACE text, I’ve come to new conclusions. I’ve highlighted updates in this post in blue. Otherwise the rest remains aligns and unchanged.

For Elves love =/= marriage. Most unions are love matches but at . However, Tolkien did write about Elves who love yet never wed à la courtly love. Elves that love with our reciprocity, even when married. Moreover, of lusty Elf men who wed Elf maidens with dubious consent gained from questionable means.

But sex complicates things. Elves are monogamous. And it's not just culturally.

Elf sex = marriage = binding. Elf marriage = intent + sex or binding of hröa/body and fëa/spirit. Since Elves are inherently bound to Arda’s fate through their fëa/spirit, marriages are thus eternal.

Most couples have children early in marriage and with each child, their sex drive would diminish. It infers that sex (at least cultural) is viewed as being primarily purposed for begetting of children. Based on that, though not explicitly stated in text, it’s also inferred that “real” sex, that kind that led to bringing, would be was PIV (pen-in-vagina). Perhaps a consolation price strong incentive for eternal monogamy, Elf sex is intensely pleasurable.

For Elves, choosing the right partner critical. Divorce doesn’t exist. More accurately, divorce can’t exist because Elves can’t unfuck-bind themselves. But the Valar, spirit stewards of Arda who favor the Elves, are capable. Otherwise an unhappy Elf couple could lead separate lives, and maybe love others, but not remarry.

Can widowed Elves remarry? In the uncommon event an Elf dies, its spirit is summoned to the Halls of Mandos (aka purgatory). After an unspecified amount of time, the Valar will typically reincarnate them. During this Time of Waiting, both dead and living Elf spouse remain bonded. Upon reincarnation, the formerly dead spouse returns home like returning from a very long trip to the store for bread.

As it stands, the Valar will unbind a widowed Elf’s marriage in these rare events: the dead spouse refuses the summons to Mandos (usually evil Elves), eschews reincarnation like Míriel (Celebrimbor’s great-grandma), or denied the opportunity like Feanor aka “Mr. Fuck the Morgoth, Valar, and Teleri Elves.”

Therefore, in RoP, even if Celeborn were indeed dead, he and Galadriel are still bonded. But look, the way she said, “And you? My king?” sounded thisclose to RISKING IT ALL for power and sitting on Halbrand’s handsome face for eternity.

Asking for a friend: Can Maiar and Elves “marry”? Yes, with ample space for speculation and theory

The only canon union between a Maia and Child of Iluvatar (Elves and Men) was Melian and High-King Thingol. They begot Luthien, a powerful Elf and fairest Maiden ever. She even once beat Sauron in a duel.

Maiar are disembodied Eälar or spirits that contrasted with fëar/spirits of Elves and Men. Halbrand is Sauron’s fana/physical form he can change like clothes. But far as an Maia-Elf marriage aka sexy times goes, it’s unclear if it’s inferred binding is like Elven marriage because begetting children requires mutual intention to impart each parent’s spirit to the child. But either way, it doesn’t provoke any mystical moral cockblocking.

Well, one thing is clear: Melian literally fucked around, begot Luthien, and found out such activity had a side effect. She became permanently bonded to her fana. Donning a new fana requires the death of the bonded fana. To note, even though Melian bonded to an Elven fana, she retained her Maia spirit class.

What if Thingol had an Elven wife in the Halls of Mandos? Understand that Elves live on Middle-Earth to guide Men toward a righteous path. Elves and Maiar cucking dead Elf spouses certainly defies Tolkien’s “ideal devout Catholic” behavior. Assuredly he’d invent some mystical punishment to reenforce monogamy. Perhaps even Valar intervention but if they let Morgoth and Sauron run wild, I doubt it. But without precedence, it can only be speculated.

But renegade Maiar like Melian and Sauron do not give a FUCK nor need the Valar’s approval. If they want to fuck elves, THEY WILL FUCK ELVES.

Thus, irrespective of likelihood, conscience, or wisdom, no laws bar love and/or sex between Galadriel and Sauron. Platonic besties, chaste courtly love, or cucking Celeborn to the end of Arda - do you, you crazy kids. Since she is still married to, the closet thing to binding with Sauron would be with a 3rd party conduit and magic. Like a blood oath. Or rings of power (teehee).

Many challenges exist to a productive Galadriel and Sauron union beyond the metaphysical. And the most awkward would follow her spirit husband’s reincarnation. Imagine Celeborn discovering Morgoth’s first lieutenant has been railing his wife for centuries (now that’s a good fanfic prompt).

Thank you for reading! Your likes and reblogs are appreciated. Got feedback?

What did you like? Got theories or insights to share?

Disagree? I love good faith debate and sparring!

Something not quite making sense? Got feedback on readability?

Spot an inaccuracy? Hey, Tolkien's work is complex. Drop it in comments or DM.

#tolkien #saurondriel #theory

[euphroseia]

Forever and always

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k words

Genre: idol!au, fluff with a bit of angst

Warnings: Mention(s) of god, being agnostic, LDR, some kissing scenes but not explicit just wholesome, honestly. I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed some!

If you liked my writing, please give me a reblog. I’d appreciate it and it will help me a lot! You can also let me know your thoughts about the story here. Thank youuuu! 💗

It all started by subscribing to the bubble for JYPnation; and honestly, you were very reluctant at first. Is this even worth my money? Will I really be communicating with my bias here? Oh my god, this ain’t some kind of scam right? You asked yourself these questions before actually paying. And here comes the exciting part: choosing the artist to receive. This wasn’t a hard decision to make, after all, you installed the app for him—for Hyunjin. 

After receiving the first message of greeting, the one where he thanks you for being bubble’s friend, you were already ecstatic at this moment. Oh, god, Hwang Hyunjin, I cannot wait for you to actually message me. And so, the magic begins.

“Hello, Y/N” 

“Y/N, Good morning”

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N!!!”

“Look, I painted your profile although I know that’s not you.”

At first, you were sure he is just like this because he was supposed to do this, and most importantly, he might be doing this to everyone, and you shouldn’t be paying too much attention and affection to all his actions towards you; however, messages like these started with everyday texts, and the days turned to weeks, and weeks soon arrived to almost a month, which means you’re approaching the end for this subscription. When you subscribed to bubble, you planned on changing a member every month that passed by, not until Hyunjin messaged you something you could never decline. 

“Y/N~, I know you’re reaching a month from being with me, please don’t choose another member :(( I’ll be good please don’t leave me.” First of all, how did he know I’m planning on switching to another member? Second, why did he have to be this cute? And MOST of all, why is he doing and saying this to me??? This were the things you asked yourself after what he had said

You don’t know how things went to this miracle but the only thing you can do is thank god for allowing you to subscribe to bubble, you’re an agnostic by the way, because if you didn’t, then maybe you won’t be laying in this fluffy bed with a long haired blonde beautiful man beside you. 

Now, this might sound like a dream come true, it is, of course; but dating an idol has its fair share of pros and cons. Greatest of all pros is that you don’t need to collect all his photo cards anymore because he sends you his selfies everyday. Also, the fact that he updates you of his schedule every time? A heavenly feeling of assurance. You can honestly state a list of pros covering a whole yellow pad paper back-to-back, but you’re not going to dwell with that too much. For cons, first and most exhausting of all for you, your relationship has to be hidden. Not that it’s a secret for both your family and his, and stray kids, but having to be extra careful around everyone is the hardest. You want to tell the world that you’re dating the one and only Hwang Hyunjin and that he loves you and you love him more than anything else; but that’s just how you can imagine things for now. Next, you are in a long distance relationship. He’s in South Korea and you’re in New Jersey, USA. Oh, what a nice 12-hour time difference. 

Having to be beside him right now is a rare moment, first time even, for the both of you. He can’t go to you since it will be a dead giveaway to everyone that he is indeed seeing someone in New Jersey. So, since your anniversary is nearing, a few months back, you started saving money so that you can be with him, which leads you to this situation—hugged by the most beautiful person on earth you could ever lay your eyes on. He looks even wonderful now that he’s sound asleep, you feel peaceful with his presence. You wish for this moment to last forever, you’d give up everything just to have him stay by your side; but you know this isn’t something you can really hope for. 

Being an idol has its pros and cons. Doing a job they truly love and enjoy, but having eyes around them any time of the day, anywhere they go. Making their fans happy makes them happy as well, but also being robbed off of their freedom. People expect them to be perfect while also prying on their private lives. 

Dating ban wasn’t on his contract, at first you thought there would be no problem because of that, but why would JYP allow his artist to date someone like you? An average person who isn’t even a top student in the least. How can he allow Hyunjin to date someone who isn’t the prettiest and popular in some ways? This is why your relationship is hidden, because if people find out about this, their boss would not even protect him about your relationship, and you don’t want to be a burden to him and the group. 

You hate that you’re thinking like this despite all the constant reassurances Hyunjin has given you. He’s the sweetest person you know and you’ll ever have. You didn’t notice the tears welling up in your eyes not until a drop had rolled down the side of your eyes, to the bridge of your nose and to the pillow you were lying on. You also wouldn’t notice that Hyunjin was already awake if he didn’t suddenly sit up and hold your right cheek with his palm.

“Why are you crying, darling?” You softened with the pet name. You have always adored him calling you that.

“Nothing, love, just thinking about how lucky I am with you,” you said and smiled softly at him.

He’s lying down again and pulling you closer into him. Your head is now pressed against his chest, you can even hear the beating of his heart. In moments like this, you’re in the most fragile state; you want to be protected more than you want to protect him.

Although muffled, you heard clearly what he said after a short comforting silence. “I’m the lucky one here. I got to date my crush and now we’re celebrating our one year together.” 

“I love you, Hyunjin.” At this point, you don’t even understand why you were crying.

He pulled away and cupped your face. “I love you too, Y/N. Don’t cry, my love, please.” He cooed and kissed your forehead. Down to the tip of your nose. Then your philtrum, and finally, your lips. It was a comforting one. The most wholesome kiss he ever gave you. You’ve always felt amazing in his arms and his kisses, but this one made you feel very safe with his touches, you’d never want to break the kiss. 

As he pulled away from the kiss, he reached for the drawer of his bedside table. It took him a little while before he got what he was looking for. He sat down and pulled you with him, making you two now sitting up on the bed. He held your hand and pulled it up so that it was on eye level for the both of you. On his right hand, there you saw what he was rummaging for in the drawer, it was a ring—a promise ring to be exact.

“Happy anniversary, my darling. I’m sorry that we’ve reached a total year together having our relationship in this situation. I may not be able to tell the whole world how much I love you, but I hope you know that I genuinely do,” now, you’re both a crying mess.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel insecure and small for keeping our relationship a secret, but please know that my heart holds you dearly and that I am really proud of you. My gift for you is this ring, this will hold all my promises for you that soon we’ll get to be a normal couple just like everyone. Soon, I’ll be able to hold your hand in public and we won’t have to be scared of getting caught. Until then, please let me hold onto you for as long as you’d allow me.” You wiped his tears, while yours are pouring heavily all the way to your neck.

“May I put this on you?” He asked. He didn’t really have to ask but you nodded. Smiling as he slid the ring on your left hand’s ring finger. It fits heavenly, like it was specially made for you.

“Happy anniversary, my lovely Y/N. I love you forever and always.” He kissed you again, the same loving kiss a while ago, and then proceeded to pull you into his arms, snuggling his head on the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Hyunjin. Always in all ways.” You said as you allowed yourself to melt into his arms.

Who would have thought that, what was a reluctant decision at first, will bring you to this—to him.

This might not be the perfect love story you expected, but you’re grateful you get to spend and write every chapter of it with him, and you don’t plan on asking for more than to be with him for the rest of it.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids ff #hwang hyunjin ff #hyunjin ff #stray kids oneshot #hwang hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #stray kids angst #hwang hyunjin angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x you

[subwaytostardew]

Update: Ginger Island content

Now there's more than just the bare minimum and their bar dialogue! Kade filled out the other dialogue keys for Ginger Island! Here they are!

▲ Ingo’s Resort Dialogue ▲

 "Resort_Entering": "I have always been told I need to rest my cab! Now I get to do so! This place is breathtaking! However... I do wish the seas were less choppy... I felt as if I was being subjected to a Seismic Toss!"

  "Resort_Leaving": "Alas, I must return to the mainland and to home station. As nice as this place is... I cannot help but worry about the work that needs to get done. They say to rest and relax, but I find it quite difficult to do so. Still! It was a nice day off! I would not mind returning to this terminal! The boat, on the other hand... Oh dear."

  "Resort_Shore": "Ahh... now this is quite the sight! Oh! Perhaps I could build a sand sculpture? Oh... What do I plan to build? Why, a train of course! EHAHAHAHAHA!"

  "Resort_Chair": "(Ingo seems to be fast asleep. He is snoring quite loudly. The book on his face does little to nothing when it comes to volume control.)"

  "Resort_Umbrella": "Owch. Owch. YOWCH. Nuuugh... @... I'd hate to be a bother, but you wouldn't happen to have any sunscreen on you, would you? I'm afraid I am ill-equipped for how bright the sun is here. It appears my cab has gotten burned in the process..."

  "Resort_Wander": "Ah, this place is quite relaxing... But what of all the paperwork that sits unfinished at the station? Oh dear...

No. No. Tut. Tut. Ingo. Do not derail. You are here to relax!

AH, @! Y-you hadn't overheard me, have you? Eh... eheheha... My apologies, but I am simply trying to remind myself that work can wait. After all, I'm here to relax! I heard many good things about the island here! To think this region has so many hidden wonders beneath its prickly thorns..."

  "Resort_Bar": "Bravo! Mister Vincent was indeed correct about the delectability of Cranberry Candy! He has quite a refined palette for such a young passenger- especially when it comes to that of fruits! Perhaps I will take along some cargo for him and Miss Jas before we depart back to the valley... Surely, that will steer them away from my personal supply of sweets..."

▽ Emmet’s Resort Dialogue▽

 "Resort_Entering": "Mmm... I did not like the boat ride. Trains are better. Maybe we can make a train come here! That will be much better. Yup."

  "Resort_Leaving": "I am Emmet... I am now verrrry behind schedule. But I am well-rested and refueled. Ready to work on the railroad all the livelong day again. Yup. The beach is nice. But trains are better! Remember that! ... Stupid boat."

  "Resort_Shore": "The water is verrry wet. The sand is also verrry wet. It sticks to me like glue. I do not like that. As nice as the beach is. Tracking dirt and cleaning sand from one's cab is not fun.",

  "Resort_Chair": "(Emmet looks to be busy sorting through a photo album. It is full of pictures of the shoreline and sea creatures that are around.)"

  "Resort_Umbrella": "Ow. Ow. Ow. I am Emmet. Ow. I did not apply enough sunscreen. Ow... This sucks. Yup. I burn verrrry easily... Ingo does, too. There is a reason why we do not usually make detours from our usual tracks. I miss the subway tunnels. The sun cannot cause damage there.",

  "Resort_Wander": "I don't know why I came here. I am Emmet. I have a lot to conduct at the station.$3#$b#Is this what a vacation feels like? I do not like it. There is too much work to be done. I will be verrry behind schedule. You. Why are you here, @? Aren't you busy, as well?",

  "Resort_Bar": "The Tropical Curry is verrry good! A little... spicy... though... I had to ask for less spice. It is still spicy. Because of the peppers. But I like the pineapple bowl. They are like Pinap Berries but not spicy at all! They are verrry sweet. Pinap Berries are verrrry rare in Unova. Yup. It is a shame. They taste good. I wish I could eat them more. I could just eat a pineapple. But I like curry. It reminds me of the Galar region. I ate some with my friend- Piers- back in Pasio. It was verrry good! I missed it. He didn't make it spicy."

I made one whole island animation for the twins. Here are the frames and a gif with their towel sprites!

Of course Emmet would kick his feet around. Ingo, I was a little more inspired for. I was thinking that he would fall asleep in the position he would have as a passenger: legs crossed, one hand in his lap, the other holding a (nonexistent) handrail. He probably goes "choo choo" in his sleep. Emmet just doesn't sleep.

▷ Station Steward Thylak

#subway to stardew #subway to stardew terminal station #Ginger Island #submas #Ingo #Emmet #Still working on Emmet's 8 heart event..... it'll take a while because... double battles... +10 option paths a turn... #I'm getting my ass kicked

[tc-doherty]

The Hildspel of Athelhyrst | Chapter One

I don't know what else I would do with this if not share it here, so here is Chapter 1, the culmination of an entire year's worth of work!

I don't know how easy it will be to read both because, well, it's a language that doesn't exist and also because I can't exactly do footnotes. But you're more than welcome to try! I did put notes for things that may not have needed them because some of them are still words we have but either we use them very rarely or use them in a different way than they would have been. And some things were executive decisions or me explaining world building I can't get to yet. I figured it was better safe than sorry.

I'm genuinely very proud of not only the fact that I wrote this whole chapter, but of some of the sentences in particular. I think it still manages to have a little flair! Also before you say "but isn't this familiar…" yes, it is sort of me filing the serial numbers off of my Binding Blade fanfiction. But only kind of. I am going to be taking the plot and story in a very different direction, because in the end my fanfiction didn't really resemble the original plot that much anymore anyway.

Edit: I'm in the process of updating this to have a glossary instead so my notes will be disappearing. I will link the glossary below.

Tagging the people I know or think are interested, even if you just want to look at it.

@almedha @thegoddesswater @emilyoracle @magefaery @outpost51 @sam-glade @did-i-do-this-write

2,226 words.

Anglish Wordbook

Cynefrith stood next to her father, gazing out over the heathfield. Under the bright sun she could wellsee the witherwin heer, their swords gleaming with witting evil. The sight chilled her, although she knew that to them, her own shire's heer must look the same.

"Why would they set here?" She asked him.

The witherwin's motherland, Hyllworth Rich, was all highlands - full of barrows and firrows. Their heer fought afoot, horses not being behooveful in such a land, and so a flat lowland field was far from a wise kir. A gouth like this could only be won with fullbore work and hardship. Cynefrith may be young and seldom acosted, but she knew that their king was said to be cunning, and this was not.

Lord Wulfric, frea of Lindingham and highfrea of all the Weared Shires, laughed. "My beloved daughter," he said, "they know we would never bestir our heer to meet a foe cowering amongst the barrows of their motherland."

"But-"

He held up a hand to forestall her. "Yet just as true, such mistrust is the burden of a highfrea. Sunngifu!"

At his call, a harwickner hied to his side from a gathering of ferdmen standing afar. Sunngifu was a tall woman of middling years, a stern demeanor, and seldom seen skill with spear and bow. She dropped to one knee in front of them. "Yea, my lord?"

Lord Wulfric kept looking at the field in front of them. "This land should have been well sifted, is this true?"

"Down to every blade of grass, my lord. High harwickne Osgar saw to it."

"And is aught amiss?"

"Nothing, 'tis but a field."

"Mayhaps King Lanzo is not so clever as he thinks. That is as it is with most men." He ruffled Cynefrith's hair, as he had been wont to do all her life. "Still my lass, keep your wit about you. Lo! Sunngifu, I entrust you, also, to keep my daughter hearty and hale."

“As you say, my lord.”

"Father!" Cynefrith said. "Don't bid such a needless thing! Who will wield Sunngifu's horse?"

It was needless indeed to her. Sunngifu belonged where all of the harwickners belonged - on the heathfield. Cynefrith on the other hand was a dry, and her stead was to be afar, helping the ferdmen with her drycraft. There was little plee to her life, nor was she so frough as to need unyielding warding. To bangle away Sunngifu's time with such a behest was truly hyeless.

But in this she and her father were unthwear.

"As erfward to the highseld of highfrea, you are always a worthwhile target. Any ferdman would be happy to put a witherwin harfrea to the sword. Never forget this. And your anlet, my daughter, is well known to them."

Indeed she could not withsake this soothquid. More than being Lady of Lindingham, more than being the next highfrea of the Weared Shires, she was known because of her mother. The wedlock of a frea to a sellsword would alone be tidings. But that sellsword also happened to be from the eastern eltheed of Skulata. Cynefrith shared some of her mother's outlander looks, being smaller of build and lighter of skin and hair than oftseen. Yea, she was known everywhere. Anyone who saw a girl of Skulatan look outfitted in high Lindingham godweb would know it was her.

Sunngifu broke in. "My underwickner will stand-in to wield my horse for me. There is no hitch in this."

"Yea, I understand."

Wulfric laughed again. "My clever daughter! But look there, they begin to stir. It is time for me to speak to the men." He strode away back to the main body of the heer, leaving Cynefrith and Sunngifu alone.

Lord Wulfric spoke to his men from atop his horse, cutting a truly helethish ansen outfitted as he was in thick gouthhedden fratowed with markings in hues of dark hewn and whelkred, bright iron cloth peeking from beneath, a hackle slung about his shoulders, his great poleaxe at his side.

She did not stop to listen to his speech but went to stand with the other dry who stood aside from the main body of the heer. Drycraft needed clear sightlines, it would not do for them to be fanged by the dwolm of a gouth in full swing. Sunngifu followed after her.

She would not be the only ward standing by the dry that day, indeed not, for dry were often main targets. Why not, when they fought so well from afar, full farlen of even the strongest, swiftest arrows. Some dry were also arade in healcraft and could undo even the most dreadful of heathglembs.

She was not one of them. Indeed, how could she be? Cynefrith was the child of gouthrink on both sides of her blood. Her drycraft was never that of frith, but that of the dwolm of the heathfield.

There were not many dry, only some few handfuls. Many of them were known to her, if only by anlet. She nipped her head to them the barest whit – she was, after all, the daughter of a frea. Those who saw byed in anqueath.

Cynefrith watched her father and looked over the heer. It was not small. She knew that over half the heer of the Weared Shires came from Lindingham alone. Lord Wulfric wielded five high harwickners, each of whom wielded three harwickners.

She misliked it, this happening. She asked of Sunngifu, "King Lanzo's heer was sifted, yea?"

"Yea, my lady."

"How many men does he wield?"

"To my knowledge, nigh on twelve thousand."

Twelve thousand, to abide a witherwin of nigh on fifteen thousand. Cynefrith misliked it. King Lanzo was wise, and sarecrafty, of this he was namecouth. But his deeds now were hyeless. To strike a bigger heer, on land they well knew, in weather which could only give them the upperhand? It must have shown on her anlet, because Sunngifu spoke.

"Lord Wulfric is oft accosted on the heathfield."

"Of this I am aware. But to my kin, overmood is no comeling. It fells great men and lackwits alike. Indeed, more of the latter, as all men are lackwits under its yoke."

"Shall you speak to your father again?"

Her hands clenched the woof of her rooc, rimpling it, but she shook her head. "Much may it misqueme me, I have spoken and he has not heeded. To do more is not yet my bailiwick."

Her father had stopped speaking, and now shied his horse to stand forward from his men. She could see him watching the foe, seemingly at eath. He was hewed in fire and iron, the winner of a thousand heathfields alike to this one.

Overmood, Cynefrith thought to herself sourly. She could not wile the days to come, nor could anyone. But there was a trap here, she knew it. Something was wrong, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

The lift wended then, in the way it does before a storm breaks. It was neither leven nor thunder but the long, low call of a horn. Both heer bestirred, alike nothing so much as two great wilders from the folktales, roaring to seethe their alderdom.

It was not her father who stirred first, but when the men of Hyllworth overflowed from their barrows thwarst the plain like so many ants, his own horn sang out sweet the call to take up weaponing.

The horses' great hooves shook the ground as they raced forward, making Cynefrith's heart bever in her chest. She did her best not to heed, her craft needed as much mindfulness as that of any swordsman, mayhap more. A swordsman may see his weapon as a stitch of himself, and wield it as such. A dry could call upon all the might of the earth and sky, but it was ever itself - its true hearsomeness never was to man.

Of all the world's many showings, leven most eathfully came to her hand, and it was this she now called. On a day with a hoder sky, leven seemed made wholly for this end.

It came willingly this day, prancing about her in the wary wise of all half-tame wild things – throwing off sparks from her hands as it did so. It would not bide long, nor would she ask it to.

She set her sights on a seemingly worthwhile man – one with a loth of bright goldbloom about his shoulders, a great sword at his hip, and a rooc of iron cloth. The leven saw him too and flew to his side, sword and iron cloth both made an outstanding roost for it to land upon.

She could not hear him scream, but she saw him jerk and fall, bringing about a fit of groor in his horse. That would spread, as would the leven – leaping from copper to iron to brass, anything that would hold it. It may hit fere as well as foe were they near, but such was a plee of drycraft. At least she could say leven did not outlast its welcome as did some. Leven would soon tire of this game she set and flee, unlike hungry fire, who could always find more to eat.

She went to her wicken with a willing heart, but it was not long before she once again felt something was amiss.

On the heathfield beneath her the heers were stirring – both wending towards the barrows afar. As they did, her father and his men drew further and further from their starting set – far enough that her drycraft could no longer reach.

When first her spell did not land, she felt a hard lump of dread make in her a home, though she could not give steven to why. But then she heard once more the mournful call of a horn which seemed to her a roop from death itself, so unalike was it to the horns up until that brightomwhile.

At first nothing happened.

But then, from behind those sharp fangs of the earth they rose – drakes in sere score, with riders weaponed for gouth.

"Nay!" She did not underyet her reard until it throughwent her lips, but she knew – lo, how well she knew – that her father's heer was not reacon of withstanding drakes.

How had Hyllworth Rich gotten them? They did not live there, they were from – as her mother had been – far eastern Skulata.

In truth it did not dow. The drakes were here, and making for her father and his heer at speed.

"My lady." It was Sunngifu, who grabbed her arm and fanded for her to heed.

Cynefrith shook her off.

"We must leave."

"I cannot! My father-" Cynefrith took a few steps and fanded to raise a strong wind. Wind did not care for her ofttimes, but to-day it came, to no freem. They were too far. They were too far, and she was not strong enough. Was she or was she not the daughter of Lord Wulfric, of the namecouth sellsword Arite? Was she or was she not the afterbear of a hundred or more gouthrink?

She fanded anew, to the same outcome.

"My lady," Sunngifu said again. Her reard was frithful, but her grip was not as she hent once again Cynefrith's arm and began to pull her away.

"I cannot, I beseech you, let go!"

Sunngifu was stronger by far, and drycraft was not behooveful so near lest she wish to hit also herself. Cynefrith had naught but her words – which fell on deaf ears.

"Your father may yet live, but you cannot fall here, my lady. It was his behest of me. We must eftcome to Lindingham Borough."

Arrows and spells flew and the drakes swooped low as Sunngifu both pulled and shoved Cynefrith to where their horses stood.

"Unhand me at once!" Cynefrith yelled as Sunngifu lifted her into the saddle.

"Nay, my lady. For now I still must follow your father's hests."

She swung with eath into the saddle and, upon grabbing the leads of both horses, gave hers a mighty kick which sent them both leaping away in the bearing of home.

Cynefrith could only watch as the drakes – now quickly growing small – began to land.

#writeblr #writing #tc's writing #The Hildspel of Athelhyrst #goodness this was quite a project #I am having a lot of fun though! #Hopefully chapter 2 will be finished before next December LOL

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

I've read latest chapter in EN server and indeed it's very rare for ML to stop MC from going down to the path of darkness. However, it raises an interesting question: What if MC, out of frustration, chooses to tread that dark path to protect Victor from those who have harmed him? How do you envision Victor's response in such a scenario? Because if it were me I'd tread that path because they deserve it for hurting our way-too-good-for-this-world Victor ୧⁠(⁠ ⁠ಠ⁠ ⁠Д⁠ ⁠ಠ⁠ ���)⁠୨

Thank you for answering!

HAHAHA let me start from the last, b/c while it’s the general mood for chapter updates, but for the last few, this has pretty much become the slogan of Li Zeyan wives: “[...] 狗叠!!! 老子才不去拯救世界呢，我要炸了恋语，带着李泽言跑路!!” the [...] refers to some very strong slangs which actually don’t have english equivalents to convey just how strong they are LOL. 狗叠 is a play on PaperGame’s name players mostly use when they are crazy mad or being sarcastic not gonna translate that either lmao and the rest translates to “the f*ck with/ screw saving the world! I’m just gonna blow up Loveland and grab Victor and run away!!” funnily enough, even players who don’t have Victor as their main were echoing similar words, which actually shows how his writers have been massively successful with their knives lmao but— anon, don’t worry, you’re not alone, that’s pretty much the mood of all Victor stans (including myself) 😂

going back to the very first part, you echo my thoughts here as well, and i actually did a long thread on twitter (yes i still do and will call it that) on this couple of weeks back haha. now, to answer your questions, S2 CH 31 itself was actually a crystal-clear answer to all of them.

i still remember just how intense of a fourth wall breaker S2 CH 31 was for me when i read for the first time— from the heroine’s monologues to her words, everything seemed palpable tbh.

the heroine unhesitatingly sacrificing herself and her life for the men and the world is nothing new around here actually, and it definitely speaks volumes of the love she has for them. but what struck a chord with me was how she didn’t think twice to head down the dark tunnel the second Victor was about to be attacked, and the only thing what kept her at bay was the man himself, which then made her re-realize how much respect she has for his beliefs and values.

the reason it hit me so hard was you don’t usually see the heroine’s of the otomes showing ugly, pure human emotions like this. the reason MC first used the black box, despite not knowing what it could do, was to “help Victor” save everyone on the ship. and literally within 30 seconds, she did a total 180 when she saw those very people were turning against him, for saving their own lives mind you. and then alongside everything she was trying to do, we see her monologues of how she couldn’t care less for what happens to everyone else as long as it meant Victor would be safe, or if it makes her selfish or cold-blooded, the things he isn’t willing to do, she’d do them for him— and here again, we see how she reminded herself the mountainous love, respect and pride she had for him that she couldn’t do something he was fighting with his life to not let happen, the best she could do was stand by him. it’s truly not a common sight where you see a male lead working as the core voice of reason for the heroine. b/c stretch it back just a little, if Victor had not stopped MC and she had proceeded with her actions— she would be going against the very reason the story exists, which is helping those who need it and saving the world :)

so, S2 CH 31 chapter gave us the clear picture that for the MC (like you and me haha)— her man, her love comes first, and if that meant the world would have to burn in hell, she wouldn’t hesitate one bit. now as for Victor’s response in that scenario– well, again, CH 31 showed us loud and clear that he’d never, ever let you do so for his sake, that’s how much he takes pride in his values and loves you and wants to protect your values first and foremost.

which is why, we often joke about how we actually have to “grab” Victor to run away and before setting Loveland on fire— i.e., knock him unconscious or something LOL cause there’s no way in hell he’d let you do that as long as he’s conscious 😂😂

—

#ask #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #李泽言 #恋与制作人

[mariacallous]

How do you say “Winter is coming” in Japanese?

It’s hardly a criticism to say the new series Shogun, currently airing on FX and streaming on Hulu in the United States and Disney+ elsewhere, may remind audiences of Game of Thrones. The HBO spectacle based on George R.R. Martin’s novels was one of the more transformative television events of our age, inspiring several close-but-no-scimitar imitators. Netflix has The Witcher, Amazon has the preposterously expensive The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, and HBO has the Game of Thrones prequel House of the Dragon, all of which have their charms, but none have quite caught the wildfire-in-a-bottle of the original.

It is with great joy, however, that I can report an heir is finally here. The wannabes prove it wasn’t the wizards and winged beasts that ignited our collective passions: It was the palette of complex characters at cross purposes, the knotty alliances, and the inscrutable schemes that conquered our imaginations. Shogun, based on James Clavell’s bestselling 1975 doorstopper—which was previously adapted for television in 1980—is a fictionalized version of a power struggle in early 17th-century Japan, in which five regional lords vie for control after the death of a leader who maintained stability but whose son is too young to rule. Adding spice to the stew are Portuguese Jesuits (whose black ships are building a secret base in Macao) and the arrival of a crafty English pilot sailing under the Dutch flag with a secret mission to destabilize Portugal’s foothold in the region—but maybe to also make a buck or two. That’s the very shortened version, anyway, but hopefully enough to hook you.

Shogun is that rare television series that demands extra mental effort but truly rewards for the work. (Blessedly, FX has created a thorough study guide to help you keep all the characters straight.) Moreover, its roots in history and genuine customs lend it a great deal of gravitas. Truth, as we know, is often stranger than fiction.

But “strangeness” is a wobbly term these days, particularly for a Hollywood-based production about another nation’s history. As soon as the series was announced in August 2018, producers made it clear it would deviate from the earlier, NBC television event. The 1980 iteration of Shogun, which featured Richard Chamberlain, the legendary Toshiro Mifune, Welsh character actor John Rhys-Davies chomping it up as a strapping Spaniard, and narration from Orson Welles, was arguably the apogee of the big-budget miniseries trend that included Roots, Jesus of Nazareth, The Winds of War, and North and South and was a ratings juggernaut perfectly timed for a growing American interest in all things Japanese. And it was very much told from the perspective of its Western protagonist, deploying a classic white savior trope.

That storyline—loosely based on the real life of William Adams, the first Englishman to navigate to Japan—is still core to Shogun, but the new series, developed by the husband-and-wife team of Justin Marks and Rachel Kondo, takes what Clavell wrote and broadens it. The Adams character, John Blackthorne, played by Cosmo Jarvis, is now one of three equally important main characters, including Lord Yoshii Toranaga (Hiroyuki Sanada) and Toda Mariko (Anna Sawai). Indeed, it is Sanada who gets top billing in the opening credits.

One indicator of the new telling is this: In the 1980 version, when characters spoke Japanese, it went untranslated. “The viewer will be in the same situation as Blackthorne and will learn what is going on just as he does,” a producer boasted of this creative choice at the time. In the current version, spoken Japanese has subtitles; it is text, not ornamentation. What’s more, while I didn’t use a stopwatch, I’d say about three-quarters of the show is in Japanese.

While some of the producers are Japanese, the writers are not (though some are of Japanese heritage), so the dialogue was written in English, then rigidly translated into Japanese, then handed off to a Japanese playwright who spoke no English but had expertise in this time period, and then translated back for subtitles. Many of the scenes involve tense conferences in which language is translated on the spot, which is incredibly fertile soil for a brilliant performer like Sawai to say one thing with her voice but mean something else with her expression. (Not to make this too complicated, but within the story, no one is speaking English; however, some characters do speak Portuguese, which we at home hear as English—trust me, this makes sense when you watch it.)

This is just one reason why Shogun is not passive viewing. Those who watch television with one eye on Instagram are going to have problems with this one. (And they should—put down the damn phone!) Not only is there a cascade of characters with different shifting alignments, but one of the central themes is deception and delayed revelation. This is a story in which not really knowing what the hell anyone is thinking is central to its success. This is symbolized by the “eightfold fence,��� a Japanese philosophy of isolation that has played into its political maneuvers over the years but in a rich drama like Shogun means that when a woman is professing her undying love to her husband, she may secretly wish nothing more than to be dead.

The new series’ decision to broaden the perspective (and also beef up the women’s roles) may have been a red flag for some worried that it would sand down some of the material that, let’s face it, makes 17th-century Japanese culture look a little, well, intense. To put it bluntly: Could a series for our overly sensitive age show a character boiling a prisoner alive just so he can zone out to the sound of his anguished screams in a prurient haze? The answer is yes. And while that sadistic character isn’t exactly a good guy, you kind of end up liking him a little bit by the end.

Even more extreme (and also in the first episode) is when a character accepts that an underling, who spoke in his defense but did it in a way that defied protocol, must not only commit ritual suicide but also have his infant child killed so as to ensure his family line is obliterated. What’s more, the guy who approves of this is our hero, Sanada’s Toranaga.

Indeed, the frequent act of seppuku is just one of the Japanese customs that is baffling to Blackthorne’s Western eyes, and his character remains a stand-in for the audience in that regard. (Far more benign is the belief that it is disrespectful to step on moss—OK, note taken!) But an important change from Chamberlain’s Blackthorne is that Jarvis’s version is frequently a whiny, nasty jerk. Jarvis’s performance, which owes a bit to Tom Hardy at his most energetic, is a spitting, cursing blowhard with a short fuse who would probably have a much easier go of things at first if he would just chill out. (It is, at times, meant to be funny, and it is.) The Japanese call him “The Barbarian,” and given English attitudes at the time toward bathing compared with the much tidier Japanese, you can see why. One of the best compliments I can give Shogun is that, periodically, you will think, “Wait, why am I rooting for any of these people?!” but still feel a lot is at stake in the drama.

While there is a great deal of gore in the series (now I know what a computer-generated horse looks like when hit by a cannonball), there is an overwhelming amount of beauty. The kimono budget must have been through the roof on this thing. Even scenes that clearly include additional greenscreen are lit with care. This is key for a culture that, despite some shocking violence, places importance on order and grace. With 10 one-hour episodes, there is time to linger on how tea is properly served, how sake is poured, or how a geisha who takes pride in her trade can elevate it to artistry.

But none of that would matter if the storyline weren’t compelling, and I suppose Clavell would not have sold 21 million books if he wasn’t on to something. Shogun is probably his most famous, but I recall seeing his name on covers everywhere as a Gen X kid. My own mother dragged around the enormous Noble House, split into two volumes in hardcover, for what seemed like months. Most of his work fits into a larger “Asian Saga,” though he had enough clout in the early 1980s to direct a television special based on a dystopian short story (The Children’s Story) and get parodied on Late Night With David Letterman.

For all the exoticism and complicated history, however, it’s the inner hopes and desires of these characters that will linger. “Flowers are only flowers because they fall” might seem like a corny line out of context, but in the delicate world of Shogun, it is a moment of perfection and one of several in this extraordinary series.

[eadrey-the-iptscray]

I told y'all I'm not giving up on this fic. So here's a snippet of the next chapter, as a treat:

Mako frowns. No one had come to her graduation. Not even the robotics club. So why are all her friends here? A tempting thought surfaces: Does it matter? Mako closes her eyes and savors the joy of having her close friends surrounding her. Of seeing Tam again. The sweetness of this moment overpowers the bitterness of what happened so many years ago. A smaller, less tempting thought begs for attention: This is a memory. It repeats itself, hoping Mako will listen. But it’s whisper-soft, and it’s powerless to overpower the excited encouragement coming from her loved ones. If it’s only a memory, Mako decides, then what’s the harm in staying in here?

#a rare thing indeed update #pacific rim #fanfic #i wrote this in a stroke of rare creative energy so i'm that much closer to finishing the chapter #i miss writing for this series :(

[clatoera]

What’s everyone’s phone lock screen in ARWBFTB au :) just thought I’d send a fun one today 😅

Oh this is sooooo fun omg especially bc like…theres so many options ✨Ironically the answers are mostly like…each other. I’m so excited okay sooo

Cato’s is definitely Clove looking annoyed. Like giving him enough attitude in her face that you can see it in the picture. I don’t know exactly what she was doing IN the picture but she looks annoyed and he loves it. Thats the like outside lock screen picture, the INSIDE  picture is absolutely one that should not be seen publicly. LIke…absolutely not for public consumption but for his yes indeed okay. He later becomes obsessed (and I mean obsessed) with pictures of Clove and their son so it’s an ever changing combo of pictures he takes of them. Not the inside picture. That one NEVER Changes (except to other pictures that should not see the light of day).

Clove’s is the two of them together probably looking at each other and not at the camera. She’s probably in his lap, they’re probably staring at each other, her arm over his shoulders kinda thing. Like taken candidly by one of their friends at a party or something, like Glimmer seems the type to just take random pictures of people and friends because love is all around her blah blah blah. So yeah. It’s them together. Looking hot. The usual. His giant hands on her waist is a focal point. 

Finnick and Annie absolutely have the same exact picture, it’s each other and their son like a professional picture of the three of them probably on the beach. They do that thing where they’d both pick up each others phones and get so confused when they lock themselves out because they cant tell them apart. 

Marvel’s is Glimmer. He’s in the picture too but the focus is very much Glimmer like he’s stand-in behind her with his arms around her shoulder and he’s Clearly saying something in her ear because she’s laughing and THATS why it’s his favorite because she’s laughing and smiling and there is literally nothing he likes better than Glimmer being happy enough to actually laugh at something. It later becomes ever changing pictures of Glimmer and the girls and they are definitely all three matching and have the same smile and eyes and hair and it’s everything and it changes like monthly because theres constantly new outfit updates. 

Glimmer also I think has two. The like front lock screen is definitely her girls. All different variations of them but it is always them together. Usually in matching outfits. Or like snuggled up together. She is DEEPLY obsessed with them. The inside picture like barely ever changes it’s from when the girls were really little and they were exhausted with two little babies and it’s him asleep on like the recliner or something with both of them also sleeping onto of him. It’s a favorite of hers. 

Enobaria’s is just Cashmere. Like at a wedding or something with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. Or like laying in bed. Or literally just any way shape or form of cashmere. But it’s not like the capitol/D1 glamour shots it’s her all excited in the winter bundled up holding her little peppermint coffee, or laying on the beach in 4 in a big sun hat. Or one specific moment in the like 6 weeks of whirlwind wedding planning of Glimmer which involved Cashmere literally laying in the living room covered in sparkly light pink tulle and flowers because it was literally covering the entire house. Like moments where she seems genuinely happy and genuinely smiling because thats the part of her she never got to be prewar ya know? Sometimes rarely it’s the two of them together but mostly it’s like..just little happy pictures of cash. 

Cashmere’s is always people together. The like main one is usually her and Enobaria, like one of them looking at each other at one of the like 7890 parties they end up at post war and by that I mean dinner parties and weddings. Theres a picture of the two of them at Glimmer’s, Enobaria covered in a layer of Glitter from Cash’s dress just so so cute. I feel like theres a lot of beach gatherings because of Finnick so theres definitely pictures of the two of them extra tan that becomes a favorite of like…Cash practically sitting ontop of her. The inside picture is always like of her/gloss/glimmer I think. Sometimes the girls make the cut in the group picture, but it’s usually the three of them. 

One time Marvel got so severely sunburned he couldn’t move and Finnick made him take a picture holding up a cooked lobster for comparison and that became like at least the group chat picture if not everyone’s contact picture for him en masse. It’s not a phone screen but it’s a funny thought. 

so this got waaaaay out of my hands i'm sorry I just got so excited it was a lot of fun 😅 Thank you my friend this was SO so fun!!

#arwbfb tag #answered asks #arwbfb au #clato #cashmere tag #cashbaria tag #glimmer and marvel thg #cashmere and enobaria tag #clato tag #glimmer tag #marvel tag #enobaria tag #clove tag #cato tag #this was so sos SOOOO fun Lmao

[thebreakfastgenie]

‘M*A*S*H’ at 50: War Is Hell(arious)

Five decades ago, “M*A*S*H” anticipated today’s TV dramedies, showing that a great comedy could be more than just funny.

“M*A*S*H,” which debuted in September 1972, feels both ancient and current. With Jamie Farr, seated, and, from left, Mike Farrell, David Ogden Stiers, Alan Alda, Loretta Swit, Harry Morgan and William Christopher in a later season.Credit...CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images

By James Poniewozik Sept. 16, 2022 Updated 10:59 a.m. ET

The pilot episode of “M*A*S*H,” which aired on Sept. 17, 1972, on CBS, lets you know immediately where and when you are. Sort of. “KOREA 1950,” the opening titles read. “A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.”

The Korean War could indeed seem a century away from 1972, separated by a gulf of cultural change and social upheaval. But as a subject, it was also entirely current, given that America was then fighting another bloody war, in Vietnam. The covert operation “M*A*S*H” pulled off was to deliver a timely satire camouflaged as a period comedy.

The year before, CBS had premiered Norman Lear’s “All in the Family,” a battlefield dispatch from an American living room. But “M*A*S*H” was another level of escalation, sending up the lunacy of war even as Walter Cronkite was still reading the news about it. The caption acknowledged the risk by winking at it: Who, us, making topical commentary?

Today, “M*A*S*H” also feels both like ancient history and entirely current, but for different reasons.

On the one hand, in an era that’s saturated with pop-culture nostalgia yet rarely looks back further than “The Sopranos” or maybe “Seinfeld,” “M*A*S*H” is often AWOL from discussions of TV history. Sure, we know it as a title and a statistic: The 106 million viewers for its 1983 finale is a number unlikely to be equaled by any TV show not involving a kickoff. But it also gets lost in the distant pre-cable mists, treated as a relic of a time with a bygone mass-market TV audience and different (sometimes cringeworthy) social attitudes.

Yet rewatched from 50 years’ distance, “M*A*S*H” is in some ways the most contemporary of its contemporaries. Its blend of madcap comedy and pitch-dark drama — the laughs amplifying the serious stakes, and vice versa — is recognizable in today’s dramedies, from “Better Things” to “Barry,” that work in the DMZ between laughter and sadness.

For 11 seasons, “M*A*S*H” held down that territory, proving that funny is not the opposite of serious.

Alda’s Hawkeye was a forerunner of the modern dramedy antihero.Credit...CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images

Off the beaten laugh track

The characters serving in the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in Korea were professionals whose vocation was to save lives. But their assignment was to patch up soldiers so that they could return to the front lines and kill other people or get killed themselves. This was the eternal, laugh-till-you-cry joke of “M*A*S*H.”

“M*A*S*H” stepped into, and outside of, a tradition of military sitcoms. “Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.” and “The Phil Silvers Show” poked fun at the hardships and hustles of life in uniform; “Hogan’s Heroes,” which preceded “M*A*S*H” from 1965 to 1971 on CBS, was about shenanigans in a Nazi P.O.W. camp. But as for the abominations of war, these sitcoms, like the bumbling Sgt. Schultz of “Hogan’s,” saw nothing.

Only three years earlier, CBS had canceled the successful “Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” amid controversy over its antiwar stances. But by the early 1970s, even die-hard anticommunists saw Vietnam as a lost cause. Pop culture was changing, too, as evidenced by the success of “All in the Family” and of Robert Altman’s 1970 film “M*A*S*H,” based on a novel by Richard Hooker (the pseudonym of H. Richard Hornberger).

The show’s creators, Larry Gelbart and Gene Reynolds, imagined a version of the story that was more pointedly political than Altman’s dark-comic film, and certainly more so than Hooker’s cheerfully raunchy book.

The staff of the 4077th, mostly draftees, channeled their frustration with their situation into pranks, drinking, adultery and gallows humor. The insubordinate-in-chief was Capt. Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce (Alan Alda), who was dead-serious about surgery and dead-sarcastic about every other aspect of the wartime experience.

Casting Alda as the ensemble’s moral center and chaos agent was key. He could caper on set like the love child of Bugs Bunny and Groucho Marx (Hawkeye would imitate the latter while making rounds with patients). He gave Hawkeye’s flirtations with nurses a bantering lightness (though from a half-century’s distance, they can come across more like straight-up harassment).

But Alda also conveyed Hawkeye’s exhausted spleen, which the doctor poured into letters to his father in Maine, a frequent episode-framing device: “We work fast and we’re not dainty,” he writes in the pilot. “We try to play par surgery on this course. Par is a live patient.”

“M*A*S*H” borrowed bits from its sitcom predecessors. It was a workplace comedy, with a goofy boss, Lt. Col. Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson), and uptight antagonists, like the gung-ho lovers Maj. Frank Burns (Larry Linville) and Maj. Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan (Loretta Swit). The staff wrestled with bureaucracy and gamed the system, as when the hyperefficient company clerk, Cpl. Walter “Radar” O’Reilly (Gary Burghoff) mailed a jeep home one part at a time.

But the zaniness came with constant reminders that the realities of war could intrude at any moment, like the incoming choppers ferrying the wounded. The producers pushed CBS to dump the laugh track — what’s a studio audience doing in the middle of a war zone? — and eventually compromised on shutting off the yuk machine during operating-room scenes.

The show earned its belly laughs and its quiet. Even the sitcom-standard high jinks — dealing with the black market for medicine, inventing a fictional officer in order to donate his pay to an orphanage — were forms of protest.

In Season 1’s “Sometimes You Hear the Bullet,” Hawkeye meets a writer friend, doing research on the war, who later turns up on the operating table with a mortal wound. The executive producer Burt Metcalfe told the Hollywood Reporter that a CBS executive said, at the end of the season, that the episode “ruined ‘M*A*S*H.’”

The show would run for another 10 years.

“M*A*S*H” shows its age in various ways, including in a subplot in which Farr’s Klinger sought discharge from the Army by dressing in women’s clothes.Credit...CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images

Comedy meets dramedy

“From any angle, ‘M*A*S*H’ is the season’s most interesting new entry,” the critic John J. O’Connor wrote in The Times in September 1972. Audiences came around in Season 2, after CBS moved the show to a better time slot. It spent most of the next decade in the ratings Top 10 (even as its own timeline hopscotched among different points from 1950 to 1953).

The early seasons worked in a vein of joke-heavy dark comedy, branching out into more story forms and social issues. A Season 2 episode involved a gay patient, decades before Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, who had been beaten up by other soldiers in his unit. (“M*A*S*H” had its share of gay-tinged jokes — as well as a long-running subplot about Jamie Farr’s Cpl. Max Klinger trying to win a discharge by dressing as a woman — but they usually played as banter rather than gay panic.)

Then, in the Season 3 finale, the series exploded a land mine. Stevenson had signed a deal with NBC, and Henry was written off in affectionate sitcom style, with goodbyes and a party. In the episode’s closing moments, Radar — a farm kid who saw Henry as a father figure — walks into the operating room to read a bulletin: “Lt. Col. Henry Blake’s plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors.”

Henry’s death kicked off the series’s peak era, in which it evolved from a lacerating comedy into something closer to what we would recognize today as dramedy.

The new commanding officer, Col. Sherman Potter, was a career Army man, played by Harry Morgan, once Jack Webb’s stoic sidekick in the revival of “Dragnet.” (Morgan played a crackpot general earlier in “M*A*S*H.”) More competent and less malleable than Henry, Potter had a gravitas befitting a show that was growing in ambition.

The Kafkaesque absurdism deepened, too, as in “The Late Captain Pierce,” in which Hawkeye is declared dead in a bureaucratic mix-up and tries to exit the war on a morgue bus. “I’m tired of death,” he says. “I’m tired to death. If you can’t lick it, join it.”

The experimental episode formats became more daring. “Point of View” is shot from the vantage of a wounded soldier whose throat injury renders him mute. In a repeated format, a reporter visits the 4077th for the new medium of television. The unit’s chaplain, Father Francis Mulcahy (William Christopher), described seeing surgeons cut into patients in the winter cold. “Steam rises from the body,” he says. “And the doctor will warm himself over the open wound. Could anyone look on that and not feel changed?”

Just as important, the show evolved its supporting characters, especially Margaret, spoofed as a harpy and sex object in the early seasons. In a Season 5 episode, she vents to her subordinate nurses about the pressures that have made her into the stickler they know. Eventually, she becomes a more complex foil and ally.

Swit and Larry Linville in the first season of “M*A*S*H.” Her character, Margaret, became more complex as the show went on.Credit...CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images

The hilarious but one-dimensional Frank even earns some sympathy before his eventual exit, as Margaret throws him over for a fiancé. He’s replaced by the snobby, intelligent Boston Brahmin Maj. Charles Emerson Winchester (David Ogden Stiers), while Hawkeye’s partner-in-pranks Capt. “Trapper” John McIntyre (Wayne Rogers) makes way for the dry, laid-back family man Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell).

Even in the matured version of “M*A*S*H,” a lot has aged badly. A largely male story, it subscribed to the kind of counterculturalism that saw sexual freedom mostly as license for men. For much of the show’s run, various minor nurse characters were so interchangeable that they were repeatedly named “Able” and “Baker” — literally, “A” and “B” in an older version of the military phonetic alphabet.

Ironically, Alda — an outspoken Hollywood feminist and co-star of “Free to Be … You and Me” — became a disparaging shorthand for “sensitive men” among gender reactionaries in the “Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche” era. Late in the show’s run, “M*A*S*H” intermittently interrogated its own attitudes toward women, as in “Inga,” a Season 7 episode with Mariette Hartley as a Swedish doctor whose brilliance Hawkeye finds threatening.

Those later years of “M*A*S*H” could be didactic, and few fans would consider them among its best. The camp got cleaner and the hairstyles suspiciously modern. The show’s heart got as soft and the stories as shaggy as B.J.’s mustache. But the final seasons are interesting as a model for how TV would find ways to tell stories pitched between comedy and drama.

In the movie-length finale, which aired on Feb. 28, 1983, the laugh track, which had been scaled back over the seasons, was gone entirely. And while the scenario — the war finally ended, after three real-life years and 11 TV seasons — yielded the expected sentimental goodbyes and even a wedding, the core story was as dark as any the series had ever done.

Hawkeye is in a psychiatric hospital after a traumatic experience whose repressed memory his psychiatrist, Maj. Sidney Freedman (Allan Arbus), is trying to tease out of him. Hawkeye recalls a carefree day trip to the beach, a bottle being passed around on the bus ride home. Then the booze becomes a plasma bottle; the bus had taken on a group of civilians and wounded soldiers. One Korean woman holds a chicken, whose noises threaten to expose the stopped bus to a passing enemy patrol. Hawkeye urges her to quiet the bird, and she ends up smothering it.

Finally — as you will never forget if you’ve seen the episode — the memory clears: The “chicken” becomes a baby. “You son of a bitch,” Hawkeye says, “Why did you make me remember that?”

Is it melodramatic? Sure. A downer? Of course. It is also, on rewatching, a striking bit of filmmaking for an ’80s sitcom. Hawkeye’s memory unfolds with the uncanny clarity of a dawning nightmare. No music cues you in to the horror; the images just grow more unsettling and the scene more grim. It is, in a way, like the journey of “M*A*S*H” over the years: A romp in the midst of a war zone goes, bit by bit, deeper into night and the heart of darkness.

And 106 million people came along for the ride. A year and a half later, Ronald Reagan, a Cold Warrior who was elected partly on a backlash to post-Vietnam sentiment, won a second term in a landslide. Yet more Americans than voted in that election tuned in to watch a big old liberal antiwar TV show.

After ‘M*A*S*H’

For most of its 11 seasons, “M*A*S*H” was one of TV’s most popular comedies. But its style went mostly unimitated for decades.

It’s not really until the 2000s that you see its heirs emerge. The British version of “The Office” shares its ability to turn from blistering comedy to seriousness. (Stephen Merchant, a creator, has talked about the influence of watching “M*A*S*H” episodes without laugh tracks in Britain.) The mockumentary format of the American “Office” and other comedies hark back to the news-interview episodes (while Dwight Schrute is a kind of Frank Burns of the paper-business wars).

Cable and streaming especially became fertile ground for finding laughs in grim situations. “Rescue Me” made trauma-based comedy in a post-9/11 firehouse, “Getting On” in a hospital geriatric wing. The Netflix prison series “Orange Is the New Black” was as thoroughly female as “M*A*S*H” was dominantly male, but it brought anarchic ensemble humor to a deadly dangerous setting.

In Hawkeye, meanwhile, you can see a forerunner of the modern-day dramedy antihero, charismatic but damaged and driven by anger. As a kid watching “M*A*S*H” reruns religiously, I loved Hawkeye’s rascally wit, his principles and his pranks. (One of my elementary-school music pageants had us sing the theme song, “Suicide Is Painless.” The ’70s were complicated.)

Rewatching episodes as an adult, I enjoy all that still. But he’s also kind of a jerk! He’s self-righteous, attention-seeking, snide and, if you’re on his bad side, a bit of a bully. In a Season 5 episode, Sidney Freedman diagnosed him succinctly: “Anger turned inward is depression. Anger turned sideways is Hawkeye.”

This describes not a few difficult modern dramedy protagonists, human and otherwise. In one of the best episodes of “BoJack Horseman,” built entirely around the self-destructive equine protagonist’s eulogy at a funeral, you can hear the echo of the episode “Hawkeye,” in which Alda’s character, concussed in a jeep crash, spends nearly the full half-hour monologuing manically at a perplexed Korean family, to stave off unconsciousness.

Making serious comedy is a feat of balance, and some might argue that the legacy of “M*A*S*H” was to give sitcoms license to be self-important, unfunny bummers. In a 2009 episode of the TV-biz sendup “30 Rock” — a proponent of the joke-packed school of entertainment if ever there was one — Alda made a tongue-in-cheek version of that critique himself.

Playing the biological father of the NBC executive Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin), he witnesses Tracy Jordan (Tracy Morgan), a performer on the sketch-show-within-a-show, crying over the memory of being too “chicken” to dissect a frog in high school, which he’d covered up with a phony story of having been asked by a drug dealer to stab a snitch named “Baby.”

“A guy crying about a chicken and a baby?” Alda’s character says. “I thought this was a comedy show.”

Of course, if you got the joke, it was precisely because “M*A*S*H” did its job. It proved, memorably, that a great comedy could cut deep and leave scars. A half-century later, “M*A*S*H” has had the last laugh, or lack thereof.

#mashposting

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn, hope you’re well. I’ve been on sub for a grant total of 3 days and I’m already losing it. This isn’t my first rodeo, back in ‘21 my first book died on sub but I’ve since moved agents and feel in a much better space. The first time around I asked my agent to send me all rejections but quickly felt demotivated when there was basically lots of, “Nice but not for me” type stuff. So I asked my current agent to only update with positive stuff and now I’m regretting that. I am also trying not to fixate on the idea that if stuff is going to sell it will sell super quick and my agent tells me it could be several weeks until we hear anything at all. What are your tips for coping with sub? Is it slower than ever? And yes, I am indeed already working on the next thing. Thanks so much!

So I asked my current agent to only update with positive stuff and now I’m regretting that. You're allowed to change your mind. Or, split the difference, and ask them to update you on positive stuff (obviously!) -- like, really especially nice passes, or "loving this!" or whatever -- but update you periodically regardless, or when you ask. And you can always ask! (I'd advise NOT asking more than like, once a month or something, just to not drive yourself crazy, because the reality is, you originally asked for them to not update you on every little thing in the moment for a good reason, so...)

I am also trying not to fixate on the idea that if stuff is going to sell it will sell super quick and my agent tells me it could be several weeks until we hear anything at all. Perhaps it would help if you knew that not only is your agent correct, to go further, "several weeks" would be "super quick", especially for a novel!

It could take several weeks for somebody to even glance at it, let alone get multiple reads from multiple folks, take it to multiple meetings, etc etc.

Also, I quite often get offers several months after being on sub, and I don't consider that particularly slow, either... that's normal. (Very slow would be like, nine months, or A YEAR -- but I have definitely gotten offers that took THAT long, too!) -- and this timeline might be a little longer if it's a very long book, or possibly a little shorter if it's a PB or something, but in general:

Insanely quick, and you've heard about it because it's quite rare = within a week

Super quick = several weeks

Normal = 2-3 months

Slow = 4-6 months? But if they do respond to nudges and say they are still considering, it stays in the "slow lane" for as long as it takes, which could be longer.

Consider it a pass, move on = 6 months+ with no response to nudging? (but you STILL might get surprised, for real)

What are your tips for coping with sub?

You just have to put it out of your mind as best you can. Writing the next thing is a great start! Doing literally anything else besides haunting your inbox and fretting is the important thing. I dunno. Take up a hobby? Hike? Play pickleball? This is "a watched pot never boils" writ large.

Is it slower than ever?

Yep!

[zeldurz]

Being a house cat means a lot of time to ponder. I am familiar with your fic as it relates to Pellaeon/Thrawn, henceforth, referred to as Prawn. Lately, I have noticed that you have shifted away from this pairing into unfamiliar territory for me, mainly Firmus Piett/Maximilian Veers & Tiaan Jerjerrod/Conan Antonio Motti. Since I am firmly ensconced in my tiny corner of the fandom, I had to ask around, who are these guys?

Now it’s time to ask you. Welcome to my little corner at the Asker’s Studio™️ (don’t mind the ferocious Mini-Panther🐈‍⬛)

Where I go in the fandoms is determined by where ‘my’ authors go, thus, I often find myself in unfamiliar territory. I got my start with Harry Potter, moved on to Gargoyles, enjoyed a long visit with Thrawn, and currently I happily reside in TNG. As person who merely comments, it’s easy to jump around, but as an author, I would think that it would be more complicated.

What made you decide to branch out to these new pairings/fandom? While they are still Star Wars, I view them far enough away from Thrawn to consider them a different fandom (as it is an enormous departure from the Thrawn universe to the Original Trilogy)

I admit that my only knowledge of your new pairings (newer to your fic) is what Wookeepedia tells me, and what more experienced fandom inhabitants add to that. It makes me want to go back to the OT and watch it through a different lens.

What is it that you would want new readers to know about these ancillary characters?

What characteristics do you admire or dislike about them?

Do you see any parallels to characters that you have written about in the past?

I am behind on my Fic reading, but know that I have been enormously entertained by your Whatever it Takes, and I hope to see additional updates sometime in the near future.

Ahhh thank you for having me back on Asker’s Studio, it’s always a pleasure to be here. I will put this under a cut to make everyone's life a little bit easier

I have indeed shifted my preferences into the adjacent world of OT Imperials, at least for the moment. While I can firmly say that this is all the wonderful @alexx-dax’s fault – since I started following him on tumblr and was left with many similar questions to those you have posed to me: who are these men? How can I tell them apart? Why should I even care? – the question of “why” still remains, and for that, my answer is two-fold.

I would say that the jump from Thrawn to the OT Imps is not as far as it looks on the surface – much of the internal politics and settings aboard a Star Destroyer in Thrawn’s time (be it in Canon before the Battle at Lothal or in Legends aboard the Chimaera) remain the same. This makes it both easier to write (as I already have an idea of The Empire and how it operates) and easier to integrate characters that are still very near and dear to my heart – in fact, while I have yet to make full use of it in a fic, the fact that Grand Admiral Thrawn was the one that recommended a then Corporal Veers to Darth Vader for his Death Squadron has a lot of room for potential. I also think it helps that the Imps have a much less wide-reaching fandom – there’s a very small, very enthusiastic community that has made me feel very welcome as I undertake my studies into Background Men, and I really appreciate that.

Without going into too much detail, I would also be remiss if I did not touch on the issue of Writer Burnout and how that has contributed to my step away from writing Thrawn. I have the curse of non-functioning executives (aka ADHD/autism), and writing something that isn’t the topic du jour is a painful and tedious process for me (astute readers will also recognize this is why I rarely do outlines/planning and why I almost never edit/proofread my fics before posting them). For every fic that reaches AO3, there are 8-10 more that are half finished on my google drive, and I tend to lose creative steam on things very, very quickly. Between a bunch of stuff IRL and the rise of people discussing Thrawn and his characterization in fandom spaces(1), I’m having a very hard time getting my ‘voice’ for Thrawn back (it doesn’t help that my largest and most popular fic has spiraled into something much, much larger than I had originally planned, and I’m very much struggling to figure out how to tie it off in a satisfying way lol).

But back to these new guys. Who are they and why should you care?

First of all, if you wish to join me in my corner with my dolls, I would actually recommend watching the OT again but considering the perspectives of the Imps – in particular, Ken Colley’s portrayal of Piett in Empire Strikes back and Michael Pennington’s Jerjerrod in Return of the Jedi(2) give a lot of depth to the characters that we often just see as “bad guy henchmen”. People have written many things about these characters over the years (some of which I agree with and some of which I do not), but I always come back to Piett’s expression as he watches Admiral Ozzel choke to death beside him; these characters are Imperials, yes, but they are not all Tarkin or Palpatine – that is, they are not simply evil for the sake of being evil. Veteran Thrawn fans will know that writing from the perspective of the antagonists can be a lot of fun – and for my brand of fic (ie the hurt/comfort), there are a lot of Rebel Victories that bring pain that’s worth exploring (not unlike Bilbringi in the HTTE Trilogy).

I have spoken a lot about the Imperials as a collective, so now it’s time to get into the individuals. While I will touch a little bit on my favourite ships (Piett/Veers and Motti/Jerjerrod), I think that another fun part about writing these particular characters is that they work well in many different pairings, depending on the vibe you’re going for (I will spare you the chart, but I do have one). Anyway, without further ado and in no particular order, the incomplete summary of Imps:

Firmus Piett (ESB, ROTJ):

Piett is the character that got me hooked on the imperials in the first place – his “goddammit I’m just trying to do my job and not get murdered” energy combined with his otherness (in that unlike most other high-ranking officers, he is neither from a core world nor upper class). His days fighting in the Axxilian anti-pirate fleet only add to this vibe, and much of his characterization (that I go off of, anyway) centers around him being scrappy and resourceful – useful where other, snobbier officers might not be.

As with all things Fanfiction and particularly with the Imperials (as there is comparatively little material to work with), there will always be flavours of characters depending on who is writing them, but I enjoy Piett’s potential for a found family, along with his biting snark and ability to survive only on caf and spite.

Maximilian Veers (ESB):

Veers has the distinction of being in the Imperial Army, rather than the Navy, which automatically gives him a different flavour than the others. It’s my understanding that there’s a rivalry between the Army and the Navy, which lends itself well to a back and forth banter that is easily one of my favourite things in an Imp fic. Veers is also the strong and stoic character – he’s not intimidated by Vader, and he’s going to do his damn job, no matter what.

I’m a big sap for the “hard on the outside soft on the inside” trope, and Veers is perfect for this. He protects his Herd with a fierce loyalty, and is a proven competent leader, but he’s also the sort of guy who teases his partner and loves physical affection. Veers is a giant, blond puppy, and I love that about him. His vibe works especially well with Piett, since they have the whole "tol and smol"/Army-Navy/slowly opening up to one another vibe that I love.

Tiaan Jerjerrod (ROTJ):

Listed as a “cold technocrat” on every official description, Tiaan is another one of those characters that has many layers to him. He is the rich snob from the core, but he���s also an extremely competent engineer who was hand picked to handle some of the Empire’s biggest projects. He’s also comparatively young (a full fifteen years younger than Pellaeon, and ten years younger than Veers, if Wookieepedia is to be believed), and yet has made his way to the top of the top. Tiaan also has the distinction that (at least in the deleted scenes) we see him hesitate – even when given an order, he is conflicted about firing the Death Star II at Endor, given the number of Imperials still on the moon.

Tiaan is usually characterized as being neurotic and anxious – a sort of wet-cat energy that contrasts well with the competence he is known for. His background – a rich aristocrat coming from a long line of decorated Naval Officers from a conservative planet – only adds to this effect, and I’m a big fan of stories that explore how he navigates (or doesn’t) the enormous pressures he faces.

Conan Antonio Motti (ANH):

Loud, Obnoxious, and American, Motti stands out among the Joint Chiefs in the one scene he is in. He has the balls to challenge Vader, and the gusto to back it up – he’s also quite young, having risen to be commander of the DS-I in his early 30s (based on his actor’s age, Wookieepedia does not have a birthday for him). While there are scant few other canon appearances for him, it’s also worth noting that one of them is him writing a letter to HR regarding Vader’s Force Choke, and another is a passage from the Death Star Novel about how he works out in only a speed-strap juggling balls in heavy gravity.

Motti can be summed up as the “Go Big or Go Home” guy who is crass, loud, and gets in everyone’s face. He can be a lot of fun to read and write because he’s so obnoxious, and that makes him fun to include even if the story is primarily about someone else. He pairs well with Jerjerrod because they have similar backstories (young, wealthy) but wildly different personalities, although I have been enjoying the Motti-Thrawn friendship lately (that would give Pellaeon a migraine)

Overall, each of these characters (and Captain Lorth Needa, of course, everyone’s favourite Dad Friend and holder of the single brain cell) has a unique vibe that they bring to the table, and it’s fun to see how they interact with both each other and the Situations they find themselves in. I also find them to be very relatable – every author pours a little bit of their heart and soul into the characters they write, but for me personally, there is a lot I can draw from my own experiences (not unlike how I have written a very few very personal Thrawn fics).

With that being said, I do struggle sometimes to hit the right notes and strike a balance between “canon”, “fanon” and the story I want to tell. While Thrawn has (for the most part) been consistently written and it is easy enough to see a through-line for his story, that is absolutely not the case here. There are many examples I could speak to (Needa as “ruthless”, Veers refusing prosthetics due to stigma or Jerjerrod “loving war”), but for the sake of brevity I will only touch on one: Piett as a schemer who sought to deliberately have Ozzel killed.

While this is… an interpretation of the source material (IE Empire Strikes Back) and has since been made canon by From Another Point of View, it disregards the intentions of Ken Colley in playing the character. He wanted Piett to come off as more relatable to the audience, to give depth to the Empire as more than just a faceless monolith, and I would argue that he is quite successful in doing so(3). Undermining this (and his backstory notes about being an underdog within the Empire) take away some of the aspects of his character that I really enjoy – but does it make my Piett OOC if he wouldn’t do something like that? Does it matter?

Anyway almost two thousand words and three footnotes, it’s very much time for me to wrap this up (as bad as I am at writing endings). Suffice it to say that I find the Imps to be an excellent sandbox with which to play in, and I appreciate both the time you’ve taken to ask me about them and the time it’s taken to read through this essay of sorts.

I’m hoping I’ll get back to Whatever it Takes sooner or later, but I would rather wait for inspiration to strike me than to keep beating my head against a metaphorical wall until an ending falls out. Until next time, thank you again for the ask and all the wonderful comments you have left for me 😊

(1)I should note that this isn’t targeted at any group in particular and isn’t meant to be a negative statement – just that the Thrawn fandom continues to grow, and with the upcoming Ashoka Show, there are a lot of people with a lot of different opinions about the character, and for someone who isn’t particularly adept at navigating the sea of fandom, it can be extremely overwhelming.

(2)If you are able to watch the deleted scenes from ROTJ, that’s even better – there are some excellent Jerjerrod scenes that did not make the final cut

(3)I do own two Piett action figures and haven’t read Another Point of View yet, so I could be a little bit biased

#my inbox

[desceros]

Hi! I'm the person who was curious about the update! X• i am so sorry for coming out so rudely, i had no malicious intention! I didn't know you had a full time job and had wrists issues :S It was indeed insensitive of me to ask now that i think about it. Take allllll the rest you need, and if the fic is canceled, its totally okay! As long as you are happy and healthy X3

same anon: yesss i'm really happy you're looking after your wrists!!! i'm also glad to hear that your drive to write/post as often as you do comes from Wanting to, and not like.. feeling the pressure to keep entertaining the audience you (deservedly) have, which i think can affect lots of people in fandom who share their creative work and burn them out. tldr very happy you like writing and sharing, as a fan of your work, but even if you stopped i'd be thankful for what you shared anyway! (same anon again) also: ulnar nerve tension buddies 🤝 !! it's rare that i hear about it bc more people talk about carpal tunnel issues.

i suspected that was the case, hence why i didn't block you right away! but i do appreciate your apology nonetheless!

to clarify, i don't mind people telling me they're excited for an update. in fact, that's super awesome! it makes me feel fired up knowing that people are looking forward to stuff. but yeah, asking "when" or "is it cancelled" is. hm. i can only speak for myself, but i find it frustrating since i'm fairly prolific, so having someone ask "when is this going to be updated" when i'm already writing a lot really sucks! but i'm not the universal arbiter of what pisses all authors off. i have heard some authors who say they are motivated by that kind of ask.

i have done the Write For Your Audience thing in the past, and here's the secret: it sucks!! you can't make everyone happy, and you burn out soooo fast trying to pump out enough stuff to keep up with the demand, and you end up resenting both everything you write and the people for whom you write it. so yeah! don't do that. that's my number one tip to people looking to write.

and yes, i don't have carpal tunnel! wrong side of the wrist hahahha. it's all pinky-side, up and down the forearm when it gets particularly gnarly. sucks some big ass titties, let me tell you.

#ask tag #bonks you on the head with a star-tipped wand you are hereby forgiven of all askbox sin go forth and be light-hearted