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heliads · 8 months

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HEY HEY HEY!! can u make a the darkling x reader soulmate au?? one where reader is a powerful grisha and has lived nearly as long as he has? they walked the earth and met each other a few times, not knowing they were the same people. sometimes, a romance almost happened, but because they knew they would outlive them, it never happened. How about aleks meets reader by chance in a village near fjerda and they recognize each other for the first time and realize they are each other's soulmate? ♡ U!!

HEY HEY HEY!! your au is that your scars stay on your soulmate's skin.

masterlist

You would think that the centuries would go by faster once you’d experienced enough of them. When you grow up, it’s like the years pass with greater and greater speed, but there must be a leveling point to that mad exponential curve, because you reached it a long time ago. The decades don’t fly by anymore, they drag like the heels of your boots in the soft mud connecting the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem.

That particular sinking earth is gone, much like most of the places from your memory. The land bridge between the two nations, which was already tentative at best back when you were born, has long been pulled under the current of the True Sea. Now, the recollections of old work boots falling into dirt have just as much hold as the place itself. Everything you knew is gone, constantly replaced by newer, flashier people and cities.

It haunts you sometimes, more often than not. You lie awake at night with a melody stuck in your head, one you haven’t heard in over two hundred years. There’s no chance that anyone remembers it except you, so you hum it to yourself, wondering if the ghosts of friends past can hear you or if they, too, are just ash and dust by now. Supposedly, they would have been folded into the welcoming arms of the Making at the Heart of the World, but you still harbor a hope that they’re still looking out for you.

Hope is all you have. As if it doesn’t mess with your head to trust your footsteps through a Ravkan town you’d lived in for decades, only to find that it’s doubled in size and population since you were last there. Or, when you finally remember that you owe a neighbor a favor, only to recall that their great-great grandchildren died out a century past. Nothing in this world is yours, not in the way that it was at the start. You can keep reinventing yourself, but it’ll never make anything stick.

All that musing over places long gone, and you still can’t convince the hours of the clock to turn by any faster. You’d like nothing more than for the years to skip by, to finally bring about your end of days or at least a change in them, because if you have more centuries under your belt, it’ll mean you’ll have searched all of the lands as many times as you can, and maybe then, you just might be able to meet your soulmate.

That, of all things, might calm your restless spirit. If it were not enough to have far more centuries in which to live out your life than the rest of the Grisha, you have to do it alone, too, knowing that most everyone you pass has someone out there built for them, someone to keep them company in a way you will never understand, no matter how many generations you live.

You often wonder if your soulmate might be out there somewhere. It’s an easy matter to spiral over. They could have been alive at the very start of your life, and died centuries before you could even meet them. Maybe there were only a few days in which your lives overlapped, or maybe you were born on the exact same day and never knew it until they died and you stayed, relentlessly, alive.

Or, worst of all, they could still be out there now, forever condemned to orbit the land at the other side of you, forever crossing paths but never meeting, always one step behind or hours ahead of schedule. There is, hypothetically, a way of telling if the person before you is your soulmate, but it only works if you have the fellow in front of you and the certainty only mad love can bring you.

In this world, in a world full of pain and pleasure, power and pride, the only way that you know for certain that you are connected with your soulmate are your injuries. They’ll show up on your soulmate’s skin, exactly at the same time and the same places as you receive them. They won’t feel the sensation of hurt as you do, and the bruises and cuts will fade as yours do, but in the minutes and hours in which you are bloody and damaged, they will be, too.

Scars last. That’s how most people know. When you see a childhood injury reflected on someone else’s knee or arm, you can tell it’s them. It’s as if a hook has been pulled through both of you, tying you together in a celebration of glitter and gore. It’s horrific, and it’s love, and no one has dared to mess with the process for the millennia in which soulmates have been around.

Least of all your soulmate. They marked you a long time ago, and although you weren’t there to see it happen, you can’t help but wonder at their rationale now. A scar curls around your left hand ring finger. It looks like a burn, and it must have been a serious one too, judging by the fact that it’s lasted this long.

You can imagine your soulmate somewhere out there, forcing a white-hot band of metal around their finger and keeping it on despite the unendurable pain until they knew the scar would last forever. Imagine what that must mean to them, to you. There is a message that they’re trying to send to you, patterned in the syllables of their scorched flesh: I love you to the point of agony, and past it. What a terrible sort of devotion for a soulmate. What a devastating burden of love for you to bear.

It makes you sick to your stomach, at times, and other days, it just makes you numb. Perhaps this is what you get, the Saints’ way of evening the scales. Everyone knows that the greed of a Grisha never goes unchecked, and maybe this is your diving retribution at last. You strove for too much too quickly, and now you have an excess of time in which you can ponder your failings, all alone for all eternity. It would make a sad sort of joke were it not at your expense.

After all, you should have died a long time ago, soulmate be damned. You started out life as a Heartrender, although you left the typical roles of that particular type of Corporalki behind long ago. At first, you merely shattered bone and spilt blood, but then you learned how to do more. Why kill one man when you can end dozens of lives with just as much force? Then, why kill when you can turn your attention towards yourself, healing not just surface wounds but deeper things, erasing the signs of age and wear until you were just as strong as you were at your prime?

Some would call it immortality. Others would curse it as witchcraft. You don’t need anyone’s misguided explanations anymore, though, your power will long outlive both them and their whisperings. It is power, plain and simple, and it is yours. You don’t just transmutate flesh and bone anymore, you shape life itself. Your life. Your life, extended forever, waiting for a soulmate who can keep up with you or die trying.

At times, you hate it, this prolonged life that you’ve given yourself. At the same time, the thought of dying without accomplishing all that you could is terrifying. The easiest thing to do is to keep living, keep drawing breath and wondering when things will change. If they don’t, well, at least you were here to see it.

After all, have you ever been satisfied with your lot in life? You send a silent plea to any Saints up there, if they're still listening at all or merely content to keep pulling their strings and directing you down darker, rougher roads. Let me rest. Please. They send only one word back, after everything: No.

So you continue your journey. Ravka needs your attention for a time, then you cross the True Sea to Kerch and Novyi Zem, and another century has passed by the time you think about returning to the eastern shores. The Shadow Fold makes things more difficult, certainly, but death is no enemy of yours, so you find ways of crossing, even if they take a while.

This time, you decide to cut through Fjerda on your various journeys. The wintry landscapes take your breath away, as they always do, but it’s a little difficult to marvel at the wonders of the country when they’re so fiercely dedicated to exterminating your fellow Grisha. You take it upon yourself to take out a few branches of the witch hunters, those treacherous drüskelle, and so you have a purpose for at least a little longer.

You get to take action upon this initiative while stopping in a small town close to the Fjerdan border for the night. While attempting to book a room in a local inn, you can’t help but pick up on the uncanny sensation of racing hearts somewhere closeby. You step away from the inn, distracted, and chase the sound of blood pounding through veins until it takes you into the surrounding woods.

There, you stumble upon what had been causing you such an uncanny sensation. A young woman, a Grisha Tidemaker by the looks of it, is attempting to evade capture by two upstart drüskelle captains. She hasn’t yet mastered her gift, and they’re well armed, so the situation is not good, to say the least.

Grisha are your people, even if you’ve become somehow separated from them by your many years. You fling out an arm and the two drüskelle go flying into the distance, clutching at their hearts as they burst in their chests. One more witch hunter materializes out of the gloom, but before he can fire off a round at you, a wave of shadow cuts off his breath and he falls to the ground, choking into stillness. The Tidemaker runs off the second the coast is clear, leaving you alone with this new stranger.

You turn around slowly, but the man emerging from the woods doesn’t seem to be a threat. He’s some kind of Etherealnik, but you’ve only heard of so many Shadow Summoners in your time. Perhaps there’s another one again.

“I came out to help,” he says, voice relaxed despite your hands raised at him in anticipation of a strike, “It appears that you didn’t need it, though.”

He doesn’t seem inclined to attack you, but you don’t trust the way he’s still hanging back in the shadows. You can’t see much of his face, nor his demeanor. “I’m no stranger to the drüskelle. They’ve always been the same sort of fools.”

“Always?” The stranger asks, allowing a note of humor to enter his words, “Have you been around long enough to judge them, then?”

You sigh. “Longer than you’d think.”

Instead of being put off by this, the stranger just grins, moonlight flashing on his teeth. “You’d be surprised what I think. I’m older than I seem.”

You look curiously at him. The man steps out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat. “No. That’s impossible.”

He’s not lying when he talks about being older than his appearance. You’ve seen this face before. Several times, if you’re not mistaken. A rebel against the Ravkan king a few centuries ago. A scholar of the Saints. A son trying to care for his mother. He’s been here whenever you passed through Ravka, but you never dared to assume that he could be anything but a familiar face passed down through the generations.

For some reason, on this night, you stop letting yourself doubt. This is a man who has been alive quite as long as you have, if not longer. Perhaps it’s the unearthly shine of the moonlight on the Fjerdan snow, transfiguring this scene into one of your memories, or perhaps it’s the fact that he’s taken his gloves off so he could summon his shadows, and you can see the imprint of a burn around the ring finger of his left hand.

No. It couldn’t be. After all this time, your soulmate cannot be the same young man you’ve crossed paths with half a dozen times before. What a cruel joke to play.

“Y/N?” He asks slowly, eyes as wide as yours.

You told him your name in one of your lives. He trusted you enough to say his back to you. “Aleksander?”

“Show me your hand,” he tells you, voice as steady as it’s always been.

When you hesitate, he crosses the clearing in a flash, standing in front of you. One of his hands curls around your wrist, holding it still, while the other holds up your fingers to the moonlight. He looks at the burn there, his burn, and at last, he smiles. It’s a proud look, almost vicious.

“You know,” he says slowly, “I always thought I’d marry you. I was a child then, and foolish, but I find I don’t mind the idea much anymore.”

He cocks his head to the side, staring openly at the scar he’d bound to both of you. You had wondered if you would fear your soulmate when you first met him, but instead, you just feel whole. A broken half has finally been reunited with its other part.

“Do you remember when we were both in Kribirsk together?” You ask slowly, haltingly, “I got a house right by the Unsea so I could study it. I think you were there for the same reason. We were the only two people in that whole town who weren’t afraid of it.”

He nods, eyes white with moonlight. “You fascinated me even then. When you left, I didn’t know how to live with myself. I started a whole new life just so the old one wouldn’t have to figure it out.”

You’d done the same thing. It took every bit of strength in you to go. You hadn’t wanted to leave the little house with the captivating man next door, but the other townspeople were starting to ask why you hadn’t aged since you’d shown up there decades ago, and the questions are only ever the start of your downfall. You’d cursed his name and yours in turn for the next few years until the heartbreak subsided.

“Before I left, though. We were alright.” You whisper.

He takes your other hand. “We’ll be alright again. It’s us now. Just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, and for once, you let yourself believe it. You have it, your soulmate, him.

And at last, after centuries of wandering the land and sea alone, of second-guessing every shadow, of wondering what you did to deserve so much time by yourself without love, you realize that it has come to an end. All of it. There is no more solitude for you. Here by your side stands your soulmate. The long day has passed, and the rest of a quiet night shadows your threshold. It’s time to go home, so you think, but you’re already there.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

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dani-says-stuff · 8 months

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The Art of Distraction

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❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- couldn't wait to bulk post, i'm actually pretty proud of this one

- i didn't end up using the exact line/prompt in the request because it didnt really fit, but it's similar enough for the point to get across

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Nate Hardy x fem!reader

Summary: Based on this request

i tried lol, i dont know if it's as spicy as you were hoping it to be, but i packed it with extra stuff just incase that part came out super cringy.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cringe, suggestive(?), mentions of a haunting that i completely made up for background, very very loosely based on the witch's forest video, inconsistent capitalization, my usual grammar warning... i dont think theres anything bad in here but to be honest i cant really remember

Dialogue Key: Probably dont even need this, but just for consistancy

Y/N

Nate

couldnt really find a great gif for this fic, but i think its funny so im dropping it here.

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It had been a few hours since you had returned home and you'd yet to stop shaking. You'd been on investigations with Nate and the boys in the past, but this one in particular threw you way more than you thought it would.

For the entire car ride back home, the events wouldn't stop rapidly flicking through your mind. Nate's arm resting on the console and his hand softly placed on your thigh did little to ground you as it normally did. The thought of reaching down and intertwining your fingers as you'd done many times before didn't even come to mind, your hands too busy picking at your sleeves to do anything else.

Dark midnight skies barely visible through clusters of twisted curling tree branches.

Thick wooden trunks placed around you like a maze, they all looked the same no matter which direction you went.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel kicking up in clouds behind you, scraping up the backs of your legs from the speed at which you were running.

Branches strewn across the overgrown path splitting and cracking loudly beneath your feet.

Your throat, raw from screaming out to the boys.

Your heartbeat, deafening in your ears.

Nate's one-sided conversation through the duration of the ride back barely made its way to your ears, it felt like you were underwater or your ears were stuffed with cotton.

The only thing you could hear clearly was the memory of your own panicked screams earlier that night.

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It had started just as any other investigation had, and for the first time in a while, it wasn't happening in a building.

The first half of the video held a strangely nostalgic vibe. In the days of a better quality Sam and Colby channel, where they were now able to book the big shot hauntings and go to different countries with loads of equipment, would sit a small video similar to those of their early days.

They were once again investigating an area that wasn't highly publicized, the only ones to know of it being the eager locals with decades of ghost stories to share.

It was said that there was a witch who lived deep within the forest many centuries ago. She dwelled in a quaint cottage where she would practice her spells and hexes... or at least that's how the villagers of the time saw her.

It didn't matter that the woman was in the woods alone because her family had all perished from sickness.

It didn't matter that she was cooking up the same herbal home remedies as everyone else.

When the drought came and wiped out the village crops but the witch's garden in the woods flourished due to the untouched aquifer beneath her land, they were furious.

It was said that they marched upon her house late one night, torches and pitchforks held high, enraged at the witch in the woods. They yelled, taunting her to emerge so they could take her into the small town square. When she refused, they tossed their torches at the structure, laughter overpowering the screams of the woman inside as the house was engulfed in flame.

It was thought to be an old wives tale, the witch deep in the woods brooding silently as she worked on enchantments was hardly anything new. It was simply a story passed down from parent to child in hopes of keeping the energetic children from venturing off too far on their own.

But then they started finding things.

The ruins of a small house, a foundation of stone left behind in the middle of the forest.

Old, hand-made historic brick, placed in a careful circle like the makings of a well.

The bones found throughout the property, most likely scattered by animals and winds over time.

With the influx of people from the small town once again venturing into the forest, it was only natural that the witch would awaken.

So, you all ventured into the woods with no more than a flashlight each, a spirit box, and a REM pod to see if you would be able to communicate with the spirit of the witch that haunted the woods.

When the sun set was when everything went wrong.

The REM pod began going off rapidly, pointing in every direction, no clear responses being drawn from the item. The spirit box chirped to life despite never being turned on, spouting one word.

Run.

Branches cracked from close behind you, startling your group of four to do exactly that.

You made it a few feet when you tripped over something cold and solid, just tall enough to catch the end of your shoe as you ran. Your flashlight tumbled from your hand, rolling across the ground to show two very terrifying things.

One, the lack of the three boys running along behind you, meaning that you had managed to run off in a different direction than they had. You were now completely alone in the forest that was difficult to navigate in a group.

Two, a short stone wall standing before you, encapsulating the leafy floor you were splayed across. You had managed to run straight into the remains of the cottage.

If matters couldn't get any worse, the very thing commonly experienced by those who ventured to this area happened to you. It was said that if you ventured onto her land, the witch would drain the power of your devices and most often—the batteries of your flashlights.

Any sort of light brought near the ruins in the dead of night would be promptly snuffed out, assumingly because of the tragedy that occurred the last time beacons of light were brought to the location.

Your flashlight began to flicker.

Once.

Twice.

And then the light was gone, submerging you completely in the stale darkness of night.

Everything after that was a blur, all you could comprehend were the quick flashes terrorizing your mind.

Dark midnight skies.

Clusters of twisted tree branches.

A wooden maze of towering trees.

Dry dirt and bits of gravel stinging your legs.

Burning muscles.

Overgrown paths.

Panicked screams of both you and Nate as you scrambled blindly through the wood.

Your heartbeat pounding in your head.

Just as it felt like you were running aimlessly then, you felt as if you could make no progress now.

No matter how far you ran—no matter how much time had passed—you stayed terrified.

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Both bedside lamps were on as you burrowed yourself under countless layers of blankets and sheets, your body curled in a tight ball. After all, if your blankets are covering you, the monster under the bed doesn't know you are there.

All that peaked out from the fluffy mass on the bed were your eyes, gaze solely focused on the Disney movie you'd turned on moments before, proving to yourself that witches aren't really as scary as they appear.

Good always wins and bad things can't reach you.

Nate entered the room about fifteen minutes into your movie, hair still damp from the shower and one of your favorite shirts of his draped over his shoulders. It was an old T-shirt from who knows how long ago, but it was soft from wear and one of the most comforting things in the world to have pressed against your skin when he pulled you into his chest at night.

His eyebrows furrowed at your eyes, wide and alert, quickly darting to him when he entered the bedroom, "Babe?" he spoke softly, slowly approaching and kneeling down by the bedside, fishing for your hand beneath the blankets, "Are you ok?"

His eyes were sincere and brimming with worry as he looked upon you, gaze scanning over what he could see of you, assessing any damage that may have occurred in the brief time he left you alone.

You nodded slowly, eyes abandoning the movie and choosing to find solace in him instead.

Once deeming you in no worse condition than he left you in, his head moved finally noticing the laptop perched on the mattress and the movie that previously held your attention playing out on the screen.

A teasing smirk graced his features, "Really?"

Heat rose to your cheeks and you somehow managed to descend deeper into your cocoon. Your words were muffled by the comforter blocking the lower half of your face, "I needed to get my mind off of it." Nate laughed quietly at your explanation making you double down out of embarrassment, "I needed something to distract me so I could sleep."

"A Disney movie?" he spoke, equal parts teasing and condescending.

"What?" you whined rolling your eyes at him, "It always worked when I was younger."

He hummed, standing up and plucking the laptop from the bed, quickly shutting it off and placing it to the side despite your protests.

"Well," Nate spoke, waggling his eyebrows at you a few times in order to get you to laugh, "now you don't need 'em."

You raised a single eyebrow, scanning him skeptically, "Why's that?"

"Because," he trailed off, leaning to press a loving kiss to your forehead, "I'm going to be the best damn distraction you've ever seen."

"Oh really?"

He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your nose.

You tilted your head slightly to the side with wide puppy dog eyes staring up at him, not quite getting what he was implying, "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

Nate pulled the covers down to your chin with a soft, lovesick smile, "Like this." he whispered, finally placing a kiss on your lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a warmth flooding your body unlike the one gained from the blankets. This was a warmth that came from the innermost parts of your soul, igniting each and every nerve, setting them on fire.

He slowly peeled back the blankets to reveal your form, arms covered with goosebumps from the stark temperature difference flew up to wrap around his neck the second they were released, fingers sinking into his hair. His own arms swiftly moved around your waist, pulling your bodies even closer as he moved onto the bed hovering over you, never once daring to break the kiss.

The only time his lips left yours where when they moved to trace your jawline and trail down your neck leaving you breathless.

He moved across your skin, leaving a tapestry of red and purple in his wake, painting your skin the same colors as the fireworks dancing behind your eyelids. With your mind focused on him, there was no room to think of anything else, he moved in a way that you couldn't fathom wanting to think of anything else.

His hands dipped lower and lower, teasing beneath the hemming of your sleepshirt and caressing your warm skin.

He leaned back, removing his lips from you after what felt like hours, pupils blown wide and a loving, lustful haze clouding over his eyes.

The only reason he parted was to drag the shirt up off your body with his own quickly following suit to be thrown blindly into a corner, lips hungrily returning to your own the minute the barrier was gone.

He held your attention fully until the sun breached the horizon line, chasing the moon and darkness of night away as it found its rightful place up in the sky. The night was over, any thoughts you had of terrible twisting branches and evil witches dissolved in the light of morning—at least the ones that hadn't been valiantly chased away by your very own knight in shining armor.

You lay in bed beneath the single bedsheet, head resting against Nate's chest as he absentmidedly traced shapes across your back, humming a random melody as he did so. The warm light of day breaching through the cracks of the drawn curtains, bathing your tangled limbs in soft gold.

He was right, you didn't need to distract yourself with the technicolor animations of your childhood. You didn't need to dull your senses with endless hours of princes and princesses saving the day anymore.

Not when you had your very own fairytale sitting right in front of you, ready and waiting to do whatever it takes to give you your happy ending.

With that thought and a sweet smile gracing your lips you closed your eyes, finally able to get some sleep.

#nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #sam and colby imagine #request

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

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since yves is like mega old and has lived through two possibly three centuries is there a chance he might outlive reader? he pretty much watches reader wither away with age until they’re taken by death meanwhile yves stays looking youthful the whole time. or does he slowly change reader’s biology overtime to become more like his, never aging and always full of young energy. i feel like it’s something he might do but also be hesitant on as being alive for such a time can have a mental toll on someone and that’s probably something he doesn’t want reader to go through. but i doubt he wants to live without reader as well.

Another Anon Asked: So what's gonna happen when Yves's s/o grows older and notices that he's not aging? Will he still keep his story a secret?

Tw: dementia, prolonged existence despite suffering, mentions of euthanasia

His database should contain the information on whether you have the prerequisites to potentially live as old as him and not have your mind deteriorate into nothingness. He would know if you're the right person to divulge his secrets to, or manipulate in such a way that you will never notice him staying youthful even after four to five decades, Yves would know if living longer than the average human lifespan is something that you would want, even if you didn't or did want it now.

And he knows, death is almost always the most merciful option on a human's soul. He remembered what it was like. He knows how it is like to be himself, and it isn't a blissful way to live at all. Most likely, Yves will have you learn how to walk on a four-legged walker, talk to you every day despite having the same exact conversation a mere hour ago, cleaning you up when you couldn't do it yourself anymore, ensuring your diaper isn't giving you a rash and spoonfeeding you each liquid meal for hours.

Don't think he isn't hurting under that stoic facade. The nerves in your eyes and skin aren't functional enough to feel the tears drip down while he sings to you. Your ears aren't picking up the small, but extremely unusual wavers and chokes in his soothing voice. Your mind couldn't register the amount of time passed being in Yves's arms as he cradled you, not once did you wonder when he found the time to eat, drink, or sleep.

Like you, Yves ages. But not quite the same as how you do. His control over his own emotions will falter, his logic will fail, and become more and more outrageously human.

Yes, he knows euthanasia is the most cogent and logical course of action. It is the most humane; putting you out of your misery and letting you rest in peace forever. But Yves can't. Even when you wake up struggling and screaming in terror, imprisoned in your own biological hell as you try to make heads or tails of your situation. However, your mind is too far gone to achieve such a simple task of understanding you are safe, you are home. Yves just can't bring himself to give you that mercy, he is too selfish to.

There was only so much he could do, and he did everything he could to delay the inevitable. Curse the world for not finding a cure to this wretched disease, curse the world for not putting enough effort into researching this calamity, curse your biology for tormenting you like this, curse himself for not preparing for this sooner, but that doesn't change anything. Yves doesn't know what he hasn't discovered yet and time is so precious, so unrenewable.

Very few things in this realm terrify Yves. Your confused and fear-stricken face as you tell him over and over again that you don't know where you are, scares him. It truly does, but he cannot show it. He made this decision against his own judgment, after all. The least he could do is to be brave and assure you that you are loved and cared for no matter what. He finds it endearing that you think he is facing the same circumstance as yours, giving him words of support, albeit incoherently, as you wipe away his tears of sorrow. You thought that he was also as lost and disorientated. In many ways, yes, Yves is also lost.

Even when you're demented, he still can predict that you were going to do that. It's the same as always, the only difference is that he cannot cure it. He cannot bend realities out of this one, because he is unable to bend your reality. Yves can only provide forecasts of it.

He is torn. Yves is directly hurting you by not letting you die, but he can't let go. He promised though, that you will not turn into an everlasting lowlife like him, but he couldn't bear to shorten your lifespan when he knows you could live past a hundred with the right care, attention, and equipment.

Yves maintains his sanity by turning to his beliefs, he has to; for your sake and his. He gently rocks back and forth, hushing you to sleep as he tenderly brushes strands of grey and white away.

Yves pressed a kiss on your forehead, whispering ardent apologies and remorse into your ear. You're far too unconscious, far too gone to register them, but Yves does it anyway, evidencing the decline of his rationality.

Yves prays and begs fervently that you will find it in your heart to forgive him one day. That is all he asks of you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

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niuniente · 11 months

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I’m going to tell you a past life related little thingy because why not :3

Since I was very little, I had this obsessive thought of “What would I do if I was locked in a room with no escape, and men storm in with guns and start to shoot randomly?” (mind you this is Finland, gun laws are extremely tight and controlled, and I literally grew up in a rural forest as far away from civilization as one possibly can with a family). I always came into the same conclusion; I would throw myself on the floor and pretend I’m dead and just hope for the best.

When I was 9, we started geography studies. As teacher was showing us a map of East Asia and mentioned Laos, my mind was blown. I literally yelled during the class “Laos! Oh wow, I must go there! Look, it’s Laos!”

Even as a 9yo I understood that I knew nothing of Laos - I didn’t even know such a country existed a second ago - but I had a burning desire to go there. Like, RIGHT NOW. On this second! I found it odd myself but on the other hand, I was just really excited about this discovery of Laos.

Around my teens, I was obsessed with English military words, American military, and Vietnam war movies. I wrote down from an English-Finnish dictionary all military related words I could find - while at the same time thinking that this is absurd, I don’t know why I’m doing this but I MUST do it. I watched all Vietnam war related movies I could find. I also loved guns, I still kind of do but not as much as when I was a younger.

From my childhood to my late teens, I had a white round dot on my stomach. It always confused me because it looked exactly like the scar my father has got when he fell on a motorcycle at age 19. Mine was just smaller. I wondered where I had got it as it clearly wasn’t a birth mark and if I had hurt myself, my gossip loving mother would have told me that story billions of times.

I’ve always disliked Finnish summer, especially in the country side. There’s too much foliage for my taste. I love monoculture forests the best and places where you can see really far.

In my early twenties, when I started to get more into doing readings and meditating, I once decided to see if I could pick up any past lives for myself. What I got was that I was a man during Vietnam war and I died in 1964. That’s all. Over the many years as I mulled this and tried to remember more, I started to have a feeling that I wasn’t hiding from Americans only but from my own people, too. And that there were a group of men, like me, and we needed to hide. Anyone could kill us at any time.

In my early 30′s, I had a vivid dream. I was in a room with other people. American soldiers kicked the door in (3 men) and started to aimlessly shoot at us. I threw myself on the floor on my stomach, pretending to be dead. 3 pullets hit me. I felt them. It stung. I managed to think, horrified “Oh God, I’m hit!” and the next second I was dead. I separated from my body and started to slowly float upwards, feeling really happy, peaceful and serene. Dying was really easy and simple. The dying process - getting shot - that was scary.

I counted 1+1 and concluded that my childhood obsessions were related to this past life in the 1960′s but Laos didn’t make any sense. I knew I wasn’t in Vietnam and the Vietnam war wasn’t the exact thing but I didn’t know what else it could be - nor I bothered to find out.

Recently, I was listening to a podcast of an American man. He said “Everyone knows Vietnam war but how many of you have heard of The Secret War of CIA, which happened at the same time - except it was in Laos?”

Turns out that while Vietnam War was on, there was the Laotian Civil War in Laos! It lasted almost 20 years, from 1950′s to 1970′s - matching my death decade. Americans weren’t supposed to be there and publicly they weren’t, but in secrecy CIA and American military were involved. I didn’t know!

Suddenly, it made all sense that in the past life, I had to hide from American and my own people, and that the war wasn’t Vietnam War. It was a civil war. Why I don’t still like forests where I can’t see far as the enemy can hide anywhere in there. Sometimes I wonder if my stomach issues are due two of the bullets hitting my stomach. It’s a very common phenomena that old injuries, especially if the cause of death, carry over as health issues, scars, birthmarks etc. to next lives.

I rarely get official solid proves from past lives as majority of our lives in the past are just ordinary and common ones. Just like you and me today. So, I’m happy about this!

I don’t think I need to visit Laos. Whatever was there has been handled in that life-time. But if I get a chance to go there as “Well, why not!” then definitely well, why not!

#niu's life #spiritual #past life #past lives

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redfish-blu · 1 year

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An Open Letter to the Danger Days Tumblr Community:

Now that you’ve read that overdramatic title and are wondering who fucked up, I have something to say about the Danger Days Tumblr community: I Love You.

Danger Days was the first fandom I ever posted for on any site. All the way back in middle school (ho-ly shit). And let me tell you what I found out even way back when: this is not an easy fandom to be in.

For one, most people don’t even know it exists. For two, even less know it in the way it’s been cultivated on Tumblr. Almost every single person has such a niche interpretation of every little detail, that it’s impossible to draw a line through any two versions of the story. Which is a fact I personally love, but I also think it scares a lot of people away. You have to work to be in this fandom. Both as a passive and active fan. It requires patience and tolerance for disappointment.

But that’s exactly why I want to encourage everyone who creates and everyone who listens to Keep Doing That. Like I cannot stress this enough, that is what keeps this fandom and IP alive. Danger Days as a universe would be absolutely nothing without fan work (re: the California Comics), especially a decade later. Without fans who care about this story way more than it has warranted us to care, it would be six feet under. And sometimes I really think that’s what it deserves (and maybe the writers think that as well), but for the life of me I just can’t let that happen. I’ve tried to let this fucking thing go, believe me.

And funny enough, that exact feeling is evidenced by the community on this site too. Which has changed faces almost completely from what it was three years ago for better and less better in some cases. And it’s something I still struggle with adjusting to, but I look at the tag daily. I look everyone’s posts and blogs and art and effort. If you have posted even once in the dd tag my eyes have 100% seen it. So even if I still feel a little out of place, like a ghost of fandom’s past, at least I know everybody. And I know people feel the same way: No rest for the wicked.

When I reanimated from my fandom coma I was fully expecting to find that the community had gone extinct. Partially because all the blogs I used to frequent had straight up died in the three years I was gone. But I pulled up to the gates of the Danger Days tag like Rick Grimes outside of Alexandria, fully expecting to be devastated, only to find New People tilling the fucking field. And it didn’t matter that I now had no idea who any of you people were, it was The Most welcoming thing ever.

I’ll be the first to tell you this fandom bares almost no resemblance to the one I left, and I’m not going to lie and say it’s better now, but the foundation didn’t get blown away in the storm. That’s what I find uniquely profound. That everyone here still wants to try. And that makes me really want to try. And I’m sure everyone would agree that there is often little reward for the effort; but that’s precisely my point in saying all this shit. That even despite the not fun aspects, we all still clock in; and there’s a new post, headcanon, drawing, or fic every freaking day. It’s commendable, really.

If you’re lurking, or post sometimes but feel afraid to actually take a leap here because (the fandom is comparatively tiny to the greater MCR fandom) you’ll be way more out there, and the already established figureheads of the fandom will definitely see your stuff: post post post. This is my formal endorsement to Just Post That Shit. And Interact With That Shit. I spent a year gathering the courage to publish the tiniest thing while behind the scenes I literally wrote about 60+ works. You have to respect your own creativity and trust that other people will give it the time of day.

So do not feel crazy or discouraged about your ideas here! Like we literally need them to function, I would not be here if it wasn’t for all the people three years ago who just posted all their thoughts about Danger Days. About everything. Obscure or not. It’s truly a gift that this fandom has attracted people who are willing to work their brains because the original creators let it fall flat. I cannot tell you how much being in this fandom has actually helped me out in my writing and analysis skills.

So yeah. I fucking love this fandom, I love being in it and I love seeing that people are still stoking the flames. I wanted to say all this crap because I knew I’d be able to articulate it for the people who can relate but don’t want to be the first to say it. Which is okay, understandable. As I said earlier this fandom is like yelling your thoughts out into a very echoey room that only has a few people in it. So I’ll shout first and maybe it’ll make other people more comfortable to shout back.

#i tried to make this as easy to read as possible #this is also an open discussion btw. welcome to the fuckin conference room #we’re all on the council #danger days #mcr #ttlotfk #ttlofk #kobra kid #killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #party poison #jet star #fun ghoul #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #cas types #long post

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whitehotharlots · 1 month

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Tara Reade, Christine Blassey Ford, and the bleak limitations of pettiness feminism

For what it’s worth, I found the accusations made by Tara Reade and Christine Blassey Ford both imminently plausible. I’ve never met Joe Biden or Brett Kavanaugh, but I’ve spent more than enough time around entitled white collar pricks to realize that things like non-consensual workplace groping and wacky frat house sex pranks are a part of their worlds. There was nothing about either story that struck me as obviously false or otherwise disqualifying. Both very well may have happened.

But I also believe that there’s a wide chasm between plausibility and proof–especially in criminal matters, and extra especially in regards to the sort of accusations that could result in yearslong jail sentences. Sexual assault cases are notoriously hard to prosecute in their immediacy. If we’re talking about something that happened years or decades earlier, there’s no reasonable way to prove the accusations in a manner that would warrant a formal, judicial response.

By 2020, this belief of mine was considered hopelessly out of date, borderline sacrilegious. The Trump era ushered in a new diligence in regards to how the public was supposed to understand and react to accusations of sexual misconduct: women should be believed, full stop. Accused men should be punished, full stop. The crisis of the moment meant that all the old notions regarding due process and the fixed standards of what is or is not a crime had to be thrown out.

Remember that “Shitty Media Men” list from 2017? God, seems like forever ago. The list was a wholly anonymous Google Docs spreadsheet containing the names of several dozen men in media and a brief description of their alleged crimes. It was written about in glowing terms by publications big and small, heralded as a bold and exciting new chapter of social justice, and the list’s creator–Moria Donegan–was eventually granted status as a star commentator.

Did you read the list? I did. About one in every 15 or so entries contained a very severe accusation–something along the lines of “he raped me in the dumpster behind Arby’s” or “he keeps tricking me into getting stuck in a dryer.” But the vast, vast majority of entries alleged nothing more than minor interpersonal conflict: “he doesn’t respect my work,” “he raised his voice at me one time in 2012,” and other stuff along those lines. One entry really stuck out: the accuser admitted that she had never met the man. “But,” she said, “he must be a creep… just look at the stuff he writes!”

No doubt, at least some of these men were/are grade-A jerks. But the bulk of them appear to have just been disliked by a colleague or acquaintance who felt the need to take advantage of a social justice movement to exact revenge. This is how human interaction works. No one is beloved by everybody; everyone will experience some instances in which they treat others with less courtesy than they probably should; and, well, sometimes two people who are otherwise completely decent despise one another for reasons that are inscrutable to everyone but God.

The malignancy of the Shitty Media Men list is that it caused readers to conceptually associate minor interpersonal conflicts–some of which admittedly did not happen, most others of the sort that would cause no reasonable person to find one party entirely at fault, let alone worthy of expulsion from polite society–with major violations such as rape and assault. This was the new era: every accusation is proof of guilt, and all guilt is of the same severity. It’s too hard to definitively prove that a rape happened, ergo we needed to dismiss the usual evidentiary standards of criminal proceedings in regards to rape. And, also, mildly upsetting a female colleague is now the same thing as rape.

Wonderful stuff. Fantastic stuff.

A year passed. The Notorious RBG ascended to the great rap battle in the sky, and it was up to the dastard President Drumpf to appoint her successor. He settled upon a youth-pastor-cum-jurist who resembled a crude caricature from a late 1800’s anti-Irish political comic. The man had a rap sheet a mile long: lackey to Ken Starr (himself quite the defender of rape), Yalie, anti-abortion, corporate puppet, helped rig the Florida vote in 2000, Federalist Society member, blah blah blah all the horrible shit you expect from a GOP nominee to the Supreme Court.

None of these facts mattered much within the liberal imaginary, however, as they weren’t that far afield from the activities of the sort of justices liberals find inoffensive. No, the #Resistance had an ace up their sleeve: a lady said he had sexually assaulted her 30 years prior, and she was willing to say so in front of congress.

He must have been toast after that, right? Because everyone had spent the last few years hashtagging #BelieveWomen, right? They’re not gonna say they believe women and not believe them, right? It can’t be that this precedent we just set up would only be used to ruin the lives of low-level middle manager type guys who did inconsequential stuff, right? Right?

No. Of course not. Republicans never even pretended to care about that shit.

In the non-conservative press, Blassey Ford was treated as a hero. Her effort was brave, and her failure served to validate the premise upon which it was founded: women are not believed enough, and men can get away with anything.

Another few years passed. Due to a confluence of events of that ranged between skullduggery and outright rigging, the Democratic presidential primary narrowed down to a less-corrupt-than-average politician who was called a “socialist” because he was to the left of Grover Norquist, and a credit card lobbyist who was once accidentally appointed vice president.

The credit card lobbyist should have been considered especially ignominious, considering the degree to which the #BelieveWomen mantra was prevalent on the left. Decades earlier, in a situation quite similar to that faced by Blassey Ford, he led the charge in aggressively dismissing the accusations of a woman who had accused a SCOTUS nominee of sexual misconduct. Surely that was the sort of thing MeToo would not abide, right? Right?

Again, no. The semi-socialist was repeatedly smeared as a racist and sexist for reasons that no one could ever quite articulate. Social media figures openly solicited false allegations of sexual misconduct against him. In spite of being a leftist Jewish man, in spite studies showing that his supporters were actually far less aggressive and hateful than those of Hillary Clinton, he was still the most toxic and evil presence to ever enter into Democrat politics. #BelieveWomen and #MeToo precedents were very effectively invoked: there doesn’t need to be proof, and there doesn’t need even be an accusation. He’s evil because we say he’s evil. His name is on the spreadsheet.

But the guy who got Clarence Thomas onto the Supreme Court? That was regrettable, sure. But it was a youthful transgression! He’s apologized! It doesn’t matter.

Then we got a late-primary curveball: a woman who verifiably worked with Biden claimed he had jammed his hand down her pants. The allegation was decades old and therefore unprovable in a legal sense, and suddenly that was an issue where it hadn’t been just a few months before. The MeToo movement’s purveyors worked to clarify that she was a lying, mentally unstable, and possibly Russian slut.

A year earlier, we were told that due process was a misogynist construct, and that expressing skepticism toward politically opportune allegations was an expression of patriarchy and privilege. Now, faced with allegations that would force them to choose between a semi-leftist or Donald Trump, the progressive vanguard suddenly decided that these old principles of Enlightened Liberalism weren’t so evil after all.

Blassey Ford is about to embark on a book tour, receiving near-unanimous praise (and ample financial compensation) for her bravery. She might not be a household name, but among those who do remember her, she is revered as a hero.

Reade, meanwhile, is a permanent disgrace who had to defect to Russia.

In a sad way, the disparity between how these two women were treated demonstrates the conditions that spawned MeToo: a woman who makes an accusation against an unpopular or hated man will be, at least, believed. She will not suffer negative consequences. She may even be rewarded, even if the man himself isn’t punished. But a woman who goes against a man who is too important, too well-connected? She won’t even get a chance to testify. She’s actually even worse than the abusers. Every aspect of her account and character will be placed under a microscope, and anything she cannot prove with 100% fidelity will be held up as proof of how horrible she is. She’s also on the spreadsheet.

And in an even sadder way, this disparity demonstrates why the MeToo and BelieveWomen stuff was horribly misguided from the start. Removing the structures that allow society to function will not magically result in a more just society manifesting from the wreckage of the old. You might–might–remove some of the most malignant shitheads. But in the process you will ruin the lives of many who are either innocent or marginally guilty, and you will entrench the utter empowerment of those who are, only in some small ways, the lesser evils. There’s no path forward, here. There is no hope here.

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mariaspir · 10 days

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I just finished watching Tsiskaridze's 7th year exam... I have lots of opinions...

I did not like it.

1. The pointe shoes come on too early. They did the first small adage and the rest was en pointe. I am perhaps one of the few people on this earth who finds pointe shoes more easy to dance in than flats, pointe shoes have a rise and fall, there's an up and down, and these days the shoes help us both go up and stay up (I too wear Gaynor knock offs, I don't think it's "cheating", but it objectively is easier). They need the exercises to be done on half toes, it aids to the development on turnout through the way of using the floor, these are students, this is training, it should not be a performance. The legs aren't warm enough, pointe shoes come on AFTER allegro in the method for a reason. And movement quality gets lost, like what happened in fondu, also whole movements are lost, like flic-flac and reverse en ecarte.

2. Loss of technique: the girls jump lovely with height and ballon, but they land sloppily. Dirty fifths, turned in knees, weak batterie. All those things were crucial in the Vaganova style even a decade ago. If you go further back, in Somova or Novikova/Obraztsova graduation years, the allegro was textbook perfection, it was unreal how clean every movement was. This class was just okay; they jump strongly but that's about it. To me it seems like the teacher didn't insist on cleanliness, either excused it because of the added difficulty of the pointe shoes* or ignored it in favour of proving his choreographic talents (which are obviously wonderful, just not suited for a school exam).

*nobody cares if pointe shoes make it harder. If it can't be done well with them on, you should have the students take them off.

3. Loss of coordination in hands and arms: fairly obvious if you've watched enough Vaganova classes. There are moments where the arms are awkward because they don't have a clear place to be, they haven't been trained or paid attention to enough. Again, I blame the pointe shoes, these are students who are supposed to understand the use of user body in these final 3 years, yet they're told to forget what they were building towards, focus even more on footwork and nevermind the port de bras. Nikolay had naturally beautiful coordinated arms and I wonder if he can't pass that to his students because he never struggled with it.

4. Too much allegro too early: this was a men's class. I don't have a lot to say on this, it's quite straightforward. Some combinations were even the same as his past classes, lacking that feminine Vaganova grace because they were made for boys.

5. All this culminates into a Bolshoi style exam, Bolshoi style class, Bolshoi style dancers. Do that extra turn even though you are behind everyone else. Do all double fouettes even though you can't land it. Vaganova had that noble grace, polished simplicity. They were a corps de ballet, now everyone is dancing for themselves. Russians more than anyone know most students end up in the corps, and that's what they're trained for. Nikolay himself has said "careers are made in the theatre, school is for learning". You learn in a class, not in a choreography. Ballet discipline is learning to all be the same, do the exact same thing, even if you're Ulanova dancing next to cotton eye Joe.

I used to be a fan of Tsiskaridze's classes, now I truly feel like he'd be better off in Moscow, and Vaganova get a Vaganova trained dean. I wonder if Lopatkina is interested in teaching.

#ballet #vaganova #russian ballet #Tsiskaridze

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restlessmaknae · 1 year

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of taekwondo & confessions [k.y.h]

Annoying or not, your mom asks you to take your little sister to her taekwondo classes, but you don't expect to see your once middle school crush being the practice teacher there.

➳ Characters: taekwondo practice teacher!Yohan x female!reader/you

➳ Genre: childhood sweethearts to lovers, fluff, comedy

➳ Words: 3.7k

➳ Warning: -

➳ WEi taglist: @dat-town, @effulgentfireflies, @hyu-won, @littlestartonightsposts, @ishuayou

It wasn't even a bad day. In fact, it was a pretty good day, your boss even praised you for your work that day, so you couldn't say that you had a strike of unlucky things happening to you. However, when you bumped into Kim Yohan out of all people at your little sister's taekwondo academy, you were definitely in for a surprise.

Not that his presence at a taekwondo academy should have surprised you. After all, his father was a taekwondo master and he had been doing taekwondo professionally when you had last seen him. It was the fact that he was the one teaching your little sister as a practice teacher under a senior instructor’s supervision that surprised you. Oh, and of course the fact that you never expected to see your middle school crush again after he had gone to a different school, and your silly little broken heart had convinced you that you would never find true love after the boy you had confessed to had not only said nothing in return, but he had also left your school altogether. Back then, you had no phone, no social media account, so he had gone without a trace.

There was no doubt that it was him though. He had the same boba eyes, the same bunny smile and the same pitch-black hair that you had always imagined ruffling like those main leads in your favourite young adult books that you had loved back then. You had imagined Yohan in the love interest's place so many times, and you remembered that aching feeling of wanting your love life to turn out like the ones in those books all too well.

Alas, you had been young and naive and foolish and...

"Hi!" Yohan greeted you with a wide albeit surprised smile. Well, at least he didn't expect to see you here either.

"Hi!" You responded slowly, still taking in the sight of the boy who had grown into such a handsome young man. Not that you hadn't considered him handsome back then because you had. It's just that his features were even more defined now, his shoulders even broader and he was even taller than he used to be. Though you had last seen him around a decade ago, it shouldn’t have been surprising.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither," you reciprocated his semi-nervous laughter with a smile as you tried to keep it cool. After all, he must have forgotten all about your confession, right? It had been so many years ago, he must not have even taken you seriously if he hadn't replied back then (not that he had a chance because you had practically run away from him after your confession, too embarrassed to bear his gaze).

Just like that, silence enveloped you, and you knew that Yohan had never been good at awkward situations, so you tried to keep it casual.

"I came to pick up my little sister, Yeji. She attends a class here. Your class, it seems," you explained, referring to the fact that you had seen your sister come out of the exact same practice room he had come out of.

Yohan's mouth formed a surprised O in return, but then, he was back to his usual coy self as he mentioned:

"It's not my class as per se. I'm still just a practice teacher."

"Everyone has to start somewhere, right?" You joked, trying to ease the slight awkwardness in the air, but you weren't sure that you saying such a thing was helping at all. God, you two were full-grown adults now, him already practising to be a teacher and you doing an internship, you should have known how to communicate better. Maybe it was just that the surprise hadn't worn off. Yeah, that should be it.

"How about you? Are you at uni or already working?" Yohan inquired after clearing his throat, and it was such a Yohan thing to do. He had always cleared his throat like that before giving presentations or being asked to solve a task by the board. It was such a silly thing to suddenly remember, but what could you do? You had been once head over heels for this boy.

"Oh, I finished uni during spring. I'm now doing an internship. I'm a sales intern for a fashion company."

"Sounds exciting."

"Yeah, it is," you responded with a smile, then to fill the silence, you told him about what tasks you had and what products were sold at the company and how you were working part-time, so you could pick up your little sister from now on because your mother now had a schedule change due to a colleague going on maternity leave. Not that he asked about half of it, but you knew that your little sister needed an awful lot of time to get ready, so even though kids were leaving the changing rooms one by one, you weren't surprised that you didn't see your sister coming out anytime soon.

In return, you asked about Yohan, and how he had ended up here and how long he would stay here and such, and he responded casually. These weren't such difficult questions though, but you were glad that the initial awkwardness wasn't lingering anymore.

Finally, your little sister showed up, her face still quite red, but her smile was as wide as it could be. Especially when she saw that you were talking to her teacher.

"Did you ask him how I was doing?" Yeji chirped, reaching out to hold your hand - something she always did when you were around others. She was extra clingy around strangers.

"No. We were catching up."

"Catching up?" She looked at you with wide eyes, then at Yohan. To that, you explained that you had been middle school classmates, and since she went to the same middle school as you did, she found it extremely fascinating that her taekwondo teacher went to the same school as she did.

"Anyways, let's not keep up your teacher any longer," you announced firmly when silence settled over the three of you. As expected, Yeji complained a bit, but eventually, she let her teacher go his way and you two also went your way which meant home in your case.

It didn't take long for your little sister to gossip about the fascinating revelation that her new practice teacher was your middle school classmate. To make matters worse, your mother knew exactly who Kim Yohan was, and she couldn't keep it quiet either.

"Wasn't he the boy you liked so much back then?" She exclaimed beamingly as if she had received great news, and you felt like falling head first into your bowl of pasta.

"You liked my teacher?" Yeji immediately shrieked excitedly, and it took some serious minutes to explain to her that it was a long time ago, you didn't like him anymore, and that he wasn't her teacher back then, so it didn't sound that weird.

Ever since then, you tried your very best not to run into Yohan when you went to pick her up or when you did, Yeji couldn't be around or ask anything regarding your middle school crush. Miraculously, it worked for some time, but once you had an urgent matter at work, so you couldn't leave on time, and you were almost half an hour late than you usually arrived. You basically ran from the underground station to the academy because Yeji didn't have a phone, so you couldn't tell her that you were on your way, and you were afraid that she would be panicking when she didn't see you after coming out of the changing rooms.

The sight that welcomed you was totally different though. Yeji and Yohan were sitting on the chairs opposite the reception desk, and they were playing cham cham cham. You let out a long, relieved sigh upon hearing your little sister's laughter, and your heart did a silly little somersault when Yohan's bunny smile was on full display while playing with her.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry that I was late. Something came up at the company, and I had to stay a bit longer," you explained in one-go when you walked up to them, but instead of being angry, your little sister seemed more understanding.

"It's okay. Mom didn't always arrive on time either," she just shrugged, and god, you thanked the gods for having a sister like her in that moment. This gratefulness didn't stay with you for long though. "We were playing some games with your crush while waiting."

Oh. My. God. How did she... Why... How could... No. This wasn't happening. Nope.

"I've told you not to call him that," you muttered through gritted teeth, trying to act natural with a smile in Yohan's direction, but he definitely did hear you two talking, and if it was possible, he was even more flabbergasted than you were.

"Why not? You've said you told him-"

"Come on, that was a long time ago. Right, Yohan?" You glanced in the boy's direction quite frantically. You felt like it would have been better if the ground had opened up beneath you. You really just wanted to evaporate.

"Right, it was. You didn't even let me respond," he brought it up, almost sulkily, but you swore that you were on the verge of making an even bigger fool out of yourself and tell him that he was still handsome, and you found it cute that he was teaching kids, and he was seemingly good with your little sister too and that was adorable...

And so on and so forth, so you needed to leave.

"Anyways, we have to go now. I promised mom I would get groceries before going home, so we need to do that too," you clapped your hands to announce it and grabbed your sister's gym bag from the floor, throwing it over your shoulder.

Thankfully, your sister perked up at the mention of grocery shopping - which meant free food sometimes due to the promotional samples -, so she gave in easily. This way, you could bid your goodbye to Yohan as soon as possible, and you could leave before wanting to admit something that you just couldn't.

Yohan was kind enough not to bring up your awkward middle school confession, so your conversations could actually be about things that didn't cause awkwardness. He was still very much the introverted boy you had known him to be, but he could get really chatty when it was about a topic he was interested in or stories with his friends that he was trying to tell with big hand gestures and voice intonations. It didn't help your silly little heart though, in fact, you felt like you just fell deeper and deeper with no way out. Once your sister took an extra long time changing after practice, you could also see Yohan in a non-uniform outfit because he had already changed into his usual clothes before your sister came out, and oh boy, he did grow broader and stronger. He also knew how to dress himself, so the tight black jeans, simple white tee, leather jacket combo didn't help your heart at all.

Though you didn't meet outside of the taekwondo academy because why would you? You also had around 15-30 minutes twice a week to talk, so it's not like you talked a lot, though with him, you felt like you could listen to him all the time, so it wouldn't be enough anyway. He might have given you his number (in case you were late to pick up your sister, so at least he would know about it even if your sister didn't have a phone), but you didn't start messaging each other too intensively.

The first time you met each other outside of the taekwondo academy was at a taekwondo competition. It was your sister's first competition, so she was super nervous, but she got encouragement from both of her teachers and you as well. Her fellow taekwondo team members supported her as well, but she eventually lost before the semi-finals, and instead of staying out on the field, she didn't come up to you to the stand during break, so you got worried.

You walked down the corridors, and walked into the changing room where you had previously put down her stuff. However, she wasn't there. You were almost about to call Yohan, hoping that he looked at his phone during the breaks, when you caught sight of the said boy crouched down to be at eye-level with your sister and hugging her while she was crying.

"It's okay. I've lost in competitions too, it's inevitable. Next time you'll be even better. Almost making it into the semi-finals is already a great achievement," you heard Yohan say to her, patting her back reassuringly while Yeji was still constantly sobbing. Hearing her cry broke your heart a little, but the boy's reassurance warmed it a bit, too.

"Yohan is right," you said as you halted beside their duo, and gently patted your sister's shoulder to gain her attention. You reached a pack of tissues out to her, and she took it, immediately using up two to blow her nose and wipe away her tears. "It was your first competition. You did so well. Now you know what you can expect, and you'll smash it next time."

"And maybe even become a teacher like me one day," Yohan added with a light-hearted smile as he stood up straight.

"Really? Can I do that after losing here?" Yeji stopped crying to ask that question and blinked up at her giant of a teacher with bright, shining eyes. He nodded and told her just how many times he had lost in the past until she felt better and eventually went to the bathroom to wash her face.

"Thanks for being beside here. I thought she disappeared, but I'm glad that wasn't the case," you turned to Yohan after your sister got out of hearing range, and displayed a grateful smile.

"Don't mention it,” the boy shrugged casually, but you were truly grateful for his assistance, so you kept thanking him until he was called by the taekwondo master to get ready for the end of the break. He directed an apologetic smile at you, but you told him that he should go, you would fetch up your little sister afterwards.

Once Yeji was done in the bathroom and felt better, you two went back to the stand to watch the rest of the competition. Even though your little sister was a bit under the weather when her opponent made it to the final, she seemed supportive of her team members nevertheless, and she almost went back to her usual, bubbly self by the end of the event. You waited for her to change and get her stuff, and as usual, she was almost the last one to leave. That just meant that you managed to bump into Yohan on the way out.

You and Yeji were about to have some lunch, and your little sister was so pumped up about telling her teacher that she would have her favourite kimchi stew that she somehow ended up inviting Yohan as well. As expected, the boy tried to turn down the offer, but the grumbling of his stomach and Yeji’s puppy eyes convinced him to join you. Your sister couldn’t have been happier.

You couldn’t deny that you were happy as well. It was fun talking to the boy like this, and you had a fun time watching the boy’s facial expressions change when your little sister asked him very random questions such as his favourite childhood snacks, if he had ever seen Santa or if he had ever farted during a competition. That last one, though, was embarrassing even for you, so you tried to avert the topic to something more pleasant.

You three had different meals, and Yeji always tried others’ food if it didn’t involve something she absolutely despised, so she had some from your lunch and from Yohan’s lunch as well. Then, insisting that his meat was really good, Yohan even wrapped a piece of meat, rice and garlic in a perilla leaf and reached it out to you. You looked at him for a few seconds, confused, but ended up reaching for it while thanking him for the gesture. He gave you a gentle, almost proud smile in return, and there it was again: that warmth that ran through your body seeing his smile, feeling like you had just ran a marathon, but it wasn’t enough to tire you out, you were just so pumped up.

“Why didn’t you put it into her mouth? They always do that in dramas,” Yeji chirped in obliviously, and you almost choked imagining the scene of Yohan putting the perilla wrap into your mouth like couples would do. Yohan had the same reaction, but he tried to mask it with a few well-timed coughs.

“It’s because we are not a couple. It’s a thing that couples do, so it would be weird if we did so,” you explained to your little sister who seemed to be pondering for a few seconds before asking the very simple yet very complicated ‘why’. You blanched at the boldness of hers, your eyes growing twice their size, and your throat going dry. You reached for your glass of water and took a few sips of it, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t hurt Yohan's feelings either, but it wouldn’t give away your feelings either.

However, taking your silence as if you couldn’t understand her question, Yeji continued with her honest, child-like curiosity.

“Do you really not like each other anymore?”

“It’s not that. It’s compli-”

“Then, do you still like him, no?”

“I mean…” You protested fervently, your embarrassment growing by the second. Sure, kids were honest, and they didn’t hold themselves back, but they also didn’t know the complexity of human emotions and how people didn’t always like each other back. You were sure that the movies and dramas she watched weren’t about unrequited love either.

You were about to go into a long-ass monologue about how reality could be different from what she saw in the media, but Yohan spoke up after clearing his throat.

“I like her. I always did,” he admitted coolly, but the way he was picking on his food with his chopsticks without looking into your eyes gave away his nervousness.

You practically froze in place, unable to move or speak because you just couldn’t believe that he had confessed that he liked you, and he had always done so. It was what you had been imagining all those years ago while rolling on your bed and listening to heartwarming pop songs about first loves, it was what you had been imagining when you had picked up the courage to confess to him on the last day of grade 7, and it was what you had been imagining ever since, and now that it was out, you were unable to form coherent words.

“But… like… why didn’t you tell me before?” You mumbled, still puzzled, when you managed to pull yourself together enough to speak up. Yohan’s eyes darted between different parts of the restaurant before landing on yours, and his gaze made it impossible to look away. There was just so much in his eyes, a whole galaxy if you wanted to be corny, that you felt like you would never be able to have enough of looking into his orbs.

“It’s not like you let me tell you back then. You practically ran away!”

“Because you were frozen, and didn’t say a thing. So I figured you don’t like me and ran away to save both of us from further embarrassment.”

“I was frozen like you now. I couldn’t believe that someone like you would like me back,” Yohan insisted, and this almost sulky side of him was so adorable, so similar to his younger days that you almost felt like hugging him to your chest when he was already way taller than you. Gosh, you really did think that he said nothing because he didn’t like you whereas he was just surprised. You had to process that information and his pouty lips and his twinkling eyes and…

“Are you going to kiss now?” Yeji blurted out, too excited for her own good, but both you and Yohan answered with a vehement no before locking gazes again and bursting into laughter. You almost forgot about your little sister being there beside you because you were so into your own little world, but how could you forget about her presence and enthusiasm towards you and your crush on Yohan?

“We can try later though,” the boy mentioned with a teasing tone, and you held up your chopsticks warningly, but the boy’s giggles made you let go of any (theatrical) annoyance you held towards him.

Now that was out of the way, the rest of the lunch was fun and almost peaceful, but you would have never thought that his confession would happen at a restaurant on the way home from your sister’s first taekwondo competition, over perilla leaf wraps and bowls of steaming noodles. You wouldn’t have had it any other way though. It was so like you and Yohan, and it was just perfect.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story! It means a lot to me.❤️

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for WEi or for other bands, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Have a lovely day/night!

#wei #yohan #kim yohan #wei scenarios #wei imagines #wei x reader #wei x you #wei fluff #yohan scenarios #yohan imagines #yohan x reader #yohan x you #yohan fluff

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veliseraptor · 11 months

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Read your tags, do you mind explaining a little how you came to realise you might be bipolar?

If this is too personal then just ignore it - I'm just curious bc I feel like I might be in a same boat

Ps. Now that you have a name for things, I really hope you find something that'll help!

at this point it's not something I'm even willing to commit to, even reading this ask I went OH BUT I DON'T KNOW THAT, OBVIOUSLY I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW, I'M JUST SAYING WORDS. but the tipping point for me making that post was basically a combination of factors:

the fact that, while attempting to address the depression that's been getting me down, a tweak in the dose of one of my antidepressants sent me rocketing into about five days of having the most violently energetic rebound I've probably ever had, and being like "well this is alarming!" this is apparently not the expected response

also while feeling that I was like "this has happened to me before, it just usually doesn't last this long and it's been a while," and I have had the question float around in my brain before but usually ended up with my brain screeching something incoherent about appropriation at me

the fact that, years ago, somebody put me on a mood stabilizer because I was complaining about mood volatility and instability and it made a huge difference. I happen to know it is, in my cocktail of psych meds, a very load-bearing one based on the accidental scientific experiments I've done running out of different ones at different times

my psychiatrist, the first one I actually like in about a decade and who actually explains things to me, looking at these two things and basically going "well ultimately we're treating the symptoms and it's not super important what diagnosable issue you technically "have" but"

anyway ultimately it's not like it necessarily matters, I'm still mentally unwell in the exact same way I always have been, but it does make me kind of go. maybe the person who prescribed me the mood stabilizer to begin with might have said something, or somebody else might have said something, such that when I was trying to fix my medication to work better someone could go (like this lady did) "perhaps this suggests we should be trying a different angle of treatment and not just switching SSRIs again"

#conversating #anonymous #this is my real life #we'll see i guess

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

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Lena/Andrea/Sam. Sam moves back and her and Andrea start to “compete” for Lena and her love. But it turns into them all being together. Just something that starts out rocky but turns sweet in the end

When Sam returns to National City with her daughter, she expects things to be exactly the way she left them– without the Worldkiller flavor-shot. She expects a welcoming party, which she receives in the form of Lena and their friends waiting at baggage claim with a large Welcome Home sign between them. She expects L-Corp to be steadfast and steady– which of course it is.

Most importantly of all, however, she expects to have Lena largely to herself.

This, she rudely finds, does not go entirely to plan.

Oh, she has time with Lena, deepened by their shared experience of fighting Reign and loving Ruby. But unlike before, where Sam could walk into Lena’s office and expect an immediate acceptance of an impromptu lunch or movie night with Ruby, Sam now faces a fifty-fifty chance that Lena will respond with an apology.

“Sorry, but I already have plans with Andrea.”

Andrea.

The woman plagues what time Lena does allow her. Andrea said this, Andrea did that. It rankles Sam in a way nothing ever has before.

Oh, she knows about Andrea. Lena told her all about what happened between her and her childhood friend. She’d even heard the bitterness of a hidden crush brutally devastated by betrayal.

So why, Sam wonders, does Lena devote so much of her time to the woman now?

“I know,” Lena says when Sam gently reminds her to protect her heart. “But I’m learning forgiveness. And I can’t do that until I try.”

Sam’s heart swells at that, to hear that her friend is finally examining the trauma that had resulted in Lena’s one-strike policy in all things.

So Sam endures the thwarted plans and frequent mentions of Andrea Rojas. She even manages to keep her smile in place when they finally meet at one of Kara’s infamous game nights (and if she claims Lena as a partner a little too aggressively, well… she isn’t ashamed of it). But even so a dark seed of jealousy swells and grows with every mention of CatCo’s owner.

What’s even worse is that despite her careful smiles, her displeasure doesn’t go unnoticed. Once, when she pauses her listening to Lena’s story about Kara and some sort of puppy on the street, her carefully concealed scowl is caught by Rojas herself, whose gaze happens to land on hers at the exact moment Sam looks over. And then, to twist the knife, the woman has the nerve to grin. No, not grin.

Smirk.

That does it. That night, Sam goes uninvited to Lena’s building to talk. To give her best friend a piece of her mind, to confess her distaste for Andrea, to address her misgivings that Lena has allowed such a toxic person back into her life. (A fact Sam knows to be based on actions committed almost a decade ago, but a fact that she has no intention of mentioning to Lena tonight.)

But even now, the universe conspires against her, for who does she run into in the small foyer between the elevator and Lena’s door but the she-devil herself.

“Miss Arias,” Andrea greets, still with that same damn smirk.

“Rojas,” Sam returns, taking special care to roll the ‘r’ like it’s a curse.

“What brings you here at this hour?” Andrea asks, slipping seamlessly into her native Spanish.

Sam’s eyebrow lifts, not unlike Lena’s when she wants to make someone feel small.

“I might ask you the same thing,” she responds, just as silkily, the Spanish sliding off her tongue like butter.

Andrea smirks again. “Same as you, I imagine. Visiting a friend.”

The damned woman’s smile shifts, emulating a cheshire who’s stumbled across a secret. Or spawned one of her own.

Jealousy once again flares low in Sam’s belly.

“Yeah,” she snips. “About that–”

The door before them opens then, revealing a visibly unimpressed Lena Luthor.

“I can hear you,” she declares, joining in on their spanish with nary a wayward accent. She glares at them sternly, long enough for Sam to shift guiltily in place. Andrea, on the other hand, remains unrepentant.

In the end, Lena sighs. “If you’re going to argue, at least do it inside and not on my doorstep.”

She steps aside to admit them. Sam makes sure she’s the first one to shoulder her way through, but as she sheds her blazer Andrea comes in behind her to to gracefully step towards Lena and greet her with a kiss to the cheek.

“Mi amor,” rumbles from the woman’s throat, a purr if Sam ever heard one.

Lena scowls. “Stop teasing,” she orders her friend. She gives them both a stern glare. “Living room. Now.”

They obey without a word. When Sam moves to take the armchair furthest from Andrea’s seat on the loveseat, Lena tsks.

“Couch, both of you.”

Again they obey. Sam does her best to avoid Andrea’s gaze, lest she say something they’d all regret. Lena stands in front of them, arms folded across her chest.

“Sam– do you think I haven’t seen the way your cheeks flush when I mention Andrea?”

Sam has no words, but feels more than sees Andrea regard her with a self-satisfied smirk. But Lena isn’t one to let anyone off the hook.

“And you,” she chides Andrea. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you trying to get a rise out of her.”

Only then does Andrea have the decency to look mildly chagrined. Lena pointedly holds their gazes.

“You are two of my best friends,” she declares. “And I will not have you at each other’s throats.”

Silence stretches between the three of them for a long moment, before Lena softens. To Sam’s surprise, Lena smoothly kneels before them, taking one of their hands in each of hers.

“That said,” she continues, her voice now soft, nearly a purr of its own, “I think I know the source of the tension between us– and I’m sure we can find a solution that meets each of our satisfaction.”

And just like that, the knot of jealousy in Sam’s belly releases into a flood of warmth that spills downwards to pool between Sam’s legs. She knows her cheeks burn, but she can find no words to save face.

Andrea, for her part, hardly seems ruffled. She extends one finger to tap under Lena’s chin, tilting her face up to kiss her sweetly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They turn to Sam, who stares back at them, drinking in the sight of Lena on her knees, gazing softly up at her with Andrea’s hand gently stroking her hair. She takes a deep breath, and when she exhales, she releases her embarrassment for have been seen through to clearly, her irritation that Andrea had seemed to be on Lena’s page all along, her frustration that once again Andrea fucking Rojas has beaten her to the punch.

Empty of all that, curiosity and arousal rushes in to fill the vacuum.

Donning a smirk of her own, Sam relaxes. She even lets her legs spread ever so slightly, allowing her thigh to bump against Andrea’s, so close are they sitting. With a cool and confident tilt of her chin, Sam retakes control.

“You have my attention.”

//prompts are closed

#reignjascorp #lena/andrea/sam #prompt filled #sam comes back to national city #only to find things are... different

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philhoffman · 1 year

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This week’s Monday Philm is The Boat That Rocked (2009), AKA Pirate Radio (and a million other names). I’m really glad this is the movie that came up chronologically this week because in addition to being one of my favorites, it’s a warm and pretty lighthearted one.

I could easily watch the rumored five-hour cut of this movie every day. Aside from the government scenes and sex crime, every moment of this film is so much fun. I always think I’ve built it up more in my head than it really is (I think about this film very, very often) but then it hits such a stride in the last hour or so and it’s tremendous fun. One of the most fun movies to watch, I love every second spent on this boat. Certain lines catch me by surprise and make me laugh out loud every time—Rhys Darby is SO funny, he really stood out on this rewatch.

Phil was the first to point out that The Boat That Rocked is an ensemble film, and it definitely is—Carl is the closest thing it has to a protagonist, and even then he spends most of the film in the background. But it’s also undeniably grounded by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s The Count. There might be a few practical reasons that explain why that is—the only American in the script, the biggest star in the cast—but it really comes down to his ineffable qualities, his unspoken power as an actor. Oddly enough it reminded me a bit of A Most Wanted Man, the way everyone and everything else gravitates towards and around his character, his presence. Earlier this week I reblogged a post about how all the famous British comedians in the cast competed with each other to see who could make Phil laugh the most. You can hear his laugh over everyone else’s. He’s always been amazing among ensembles, knowing when to shine and when to fit (but never fade) into the background—Boogie Nights, Magnolia, State and Main, even stealing scenes in Leap of Faith—but by this age (and in roles of authority, perhaps) he’s got a natural command.

I love the Count. My favorite PSH character changes daily but he’s often number one. Maybe it’s stuff I’ve read lately, maybe it’s the fact that I watched it this week and I’m projecting, but I really picked up on his sadness this time. The Boat That Rocked is a comedy about pirate DJs in the 1960s, but it has some depth and a few very tender moments, especially toward the end. The Count sitting alone on the deck, thinking about how the best days of his life are over. Deciding to go down with his ship because music is all he has. Knowing there will be more amazing songs in the future, but he will not be around to play them. The Count of Cool, the Count of Chaos. Always home, always uncool.

There’s a moment when, as the Count and Gavin are stuck high on the ship’s mast, Phil sorta pops his jaw out—and for a second I saw him at 25 again, doing the same exact gesture in My Boyfriend’s Back. That happens a lot, recognizing the slightest gestures across decades, especially as I rewatch his films more and more, always searching for something. He’s 30-something and rolls his eyes the same way he will in a decade. He’s a kid standing with his hands on his hips the same way he’ll stand when he’s 46 years old. He blinks with his whole face the same way his son will someday. He disappears into characters but for a second he smiles or turns away and I can see the man I’ve been so fortunate to come to love. That red-haired, freckle-faced boy, the man who was asked in an interview about this film what music he would save in a fire and said “If I could get out of the house with my family, everything else could burn.”

Phil died nine years ago this week and I don’t want that to be the focus of this review, I don’t want it to be the focus of anything, I still don’t want it to be real. But it bleeds into everything, so I’m just trying to find some softness in it. Before watching tonight, I went to the store to pick up some of his favorite donuts (my favorite kind, too, and I swear I’m not copying him he just has good taste!). Seems like something he’d appreciate. I miss you a lot, Phil.

#a king among actors and a man among men #grateful for every minute #monday philm #spent all week thinking the thirstiest thoughts about the count only for this viewing to hit me like a sack of sad potatoes instead #such is the way of grief and loss.#the boat that rocked #pirate radio #philip seymour hoffman #psh #*#love your funky fu manchu

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mask131 · 2 months

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I made a post about it a long time ago: there is a cyclical phenomenon in the world of literature where suddenly you have a massive rise in popularity and appreciation of "behemoth-novels", and then it is rejected just as hard because everybody gets bored by it and wishes for something simpler and smaller.

I'll explain. I was thinking about the trend born at the turn of the 21st century, to not just make a fantasy book, or a fantasy trilogy, as it was usually the case until now, or just a series of short stories and novellas, but rather grow massive series of very thick novels by the dozen. And how, in return, it caused an immense love, appreciation and admiration for these "behemoth-sagas", these enormous series that have as much pages and characters as the Bible, takes decades to be completed, and that you can't possibly hold in your arms even if you use both. Doing just one petty little fantasy novel was seen as a kid playing in a sandbox - while the big boys and big girls did big books. This trend was followed by the rise in popularity and glory of hard worldbuilding in fantasy - and I am not speaking of "condensed hard worldbuilding" a la Tolkien, no I am speaking of expensive, if not hyper-expensive, hard worldbuilding.

You know the series I am talking about. The "door-stoppers", the "table-holders", these series where you are told by fan "You must REALLY commit to the thing". Robin Hobb's sagas ; The Wheel of Time ; A Song of Ice and Fire ; the Sanderson book series - well, you know the kind of "mega-fantasies".

Now, while these series are still considered classics and landmarks of fantasy, they are falling in disfavor due to people discovering or rediscovering the joys of simpler fantasy stories, of fantasy trilogies, duologies or even stand-alone novels. It is not a complete shift, as you still find a lot of advocates and defenders of the "mega-sagas" of fantasy - but this was the starting point of my thought about the cycles of literature.

Because this whole shift of balance in English-speaking fantasy literature (a shift that did not exist in French-speaking fantasy since French authors are not keen on mega-sagas and are more into single novels to trilogies) ; this whole shift, from a French person's point of view, happened already. Many times before.

France is known as one of the big literature countries. We are the land of the books! And of the authors! And of the harsh critics! As such it is very easy to pick up quick summaries and overviews of French literature as a whole (and by extension European literature, but since I am French I'll focus on French stuff) - and when you do that, you see the exact same cycle happen. We call them by many names: "romans-fleuves" (river-novels), "romans-sagas", (saga novels), we call them cycles and frescos and monuments ; but they keep returning every one or two centuries, they become all the fashion and all the trend and all the fad, and then the hype dies out and they are rejected for being too heavy, too big, taking too much place on the shelf, and instead of bloated, obese literature, people turn to skinny novellas and slender stories.

The oldest clear manifestation of this phenomenon in French literature is without a doubt the first part of the 17th century. The 17th century opened with the creation of some of the biggest and longest novels there ever was in French literature - and people LOVED it. They were the bestsellers, they were what everybody talked about, they were the model everybody referenced and followed. The most famous of them was "L'Astrée" by Honoré d'Urfé, one of the monuments of 17th century literature - one novel published over 20 years. Because it is divided into six parts... these six parts are composed of forty stories... and these stories are told over sixty books. Another famous example is the Scudéry siblings "Artamène ou le Grand Cyrus", which still holds the title of longest novel of French literature, with the record of over 2 100 000 words published over four years.

These novels defined the trends and culture of 17th century literature and yet... Nobody knows them today. They are not taught about in school. You ask a random French person on the street, they never heard about it. They haven't been published since centuries due to their enormous size - and even if they get reprinted today, it is only in professional, annotated editions for study. Because by the turn of the 17th century, the enormousness and "constant flow" of those river-novels tired out and bored the same readers that had hyped it up - and the next generations of writers came up in return with the first "true" novellas and short novels of French literature, which became massive hits overshadowing the river-novels as "has-beens", and unlike the Astrée or the Grand Cyrus which fell into oblivion, they are still being taught about as early as middle school: La Princesse de Clèves for example. This was also by the end of the 17th century that the genre of the fairytale knew a true boom and became all the trend: Perrault's fairytales for example, which are literaly one of the founding parts of French culture today.

But this entire phenomenon repeated itself in the 19th century! Because when you think of the monuments of the 19th century literature in France, you think of two mega-sagas that have nothing to envy to today's fantasy-behemoths. On one side, Balzac's Comédie Humaine, on the other Zola's Rougon-Macquart. Just like the fantasy behemoths, they are enormous ensemble of novels sharing a same universe (the Comédie Humaine is a set of 48 novels and just as much short stories all happening in parallel, at the same time, in neighboring areas ; the Rougon-Macquart cycle is made of twenty novels detailling a family's adventures throughout generations). Just like these fantasy behemoths, they also have a great care of realism and "hard worldbuilding". Zola was the "pope of naturalism" (the hardcore branch of realism), and his books were so thoroughly researched and so faithful to reality they are still used by historians today ; while Balzac delved much more into fantasy and supernatural and mysticism, he also was one of the great realist authors, who made sure his novels were coherent with each other, took care to depict the real-life cities and landscapes of his time, and through his work he intended to paint the most exact portrait (or caricature) of the society of France, of its classes and archetypes, as sort of gigantic fictionalized documentary. And just like the fantasy behemoths, they are now landmarks of literature considered classics of the canon.

... And just like them, while they are great classics and admired models, people also complain about the books being too thick, about there being too many characters, of the novels taking up all the shelves, and conclude that trying to get involved into these constructed universes is just losing your time.

The only difference between these two literary monuments and the fantasy-behemoths (outside of the fact one is fantasy the other is not... Even though Balzac included supernatural stories and "fantastique" elements in his Comédie humaine) is that the fantasy-behemoths tend to be one enormous series that never end but tells one core story around a given core of characters. Balzac and Zola's ensembles are rather a set of independant novels that can be read as stand-alones, but that have recurring characters, references to events happening in other stories, and form when put together a greater whole (the Rougon-Macquart cycle especially since it tells the story of one family from its beginning to its end).

I honestly don't have any point with this. There was no goal for this thought experience - I just wanted to point out how the enthusiasm and borderline fanaticism for "mega-fantasies" recalls these enormous projects of the like of Balzac and Zola, and the forgotten successes of the river-novels of the 17th century. Literature is a cycle that keeps repeating itself...

#literature #fantasy #fantasy series #worldbuilding #hard worldbuilding #book series #french literature #realism #zola #balzac #l'astrée #scudéry #french renaissance #nineteenth century #19th century #france

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ipromiseimawriter · 6 months

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i think i will talk about it actually??

sparing a few minutes, for the hearts of the narrative (the most unconditional love i've ever known):

my friends helped save my life. whether it's people i see/talk to almost every week, or people i haven't spoken to in years, that idea of being chosen just because has brought me the greatest joys of my twenty-seven years. i come from a place that - while not without love - comes with a lot of conditions, comes with an all-seeing all-scrutinizing eye that has not relented since i was a child. (it comes with knowing that i was in a terrible place for years, and there's almost nothing i could have done myself to change that.)

as i get older, against all odds. as i unearth myself from the grave i tripped in years ago. as i look in the mirror and see myself come back to life. i find that many of the people who were 'supposed' to love me do not like what that looks like (or sounds like, feels like, experiences life like). it's always kind of been that way. i just assumed before that i would get over it someday, be happy playing the part i was given.

but that's never going to make me happy. even now as i play along, follow the steps because "[she] couldn't have made it on her own" , there is something emerging. something that i have not felt in so long. or perhaps this is the first time, where i am finally seeing myself for what and who i truly am.

and it is because of the loving hands, of the kind eyes and compassionate words, of those friends (of that chosen family, really) that i am still alive (all these years later, after staring death in the face over and over, all the way to staring over that same river and going "maybe it would work this time if i didn't back down"). if i didn't know that someone would catch me, in the end. because even at the bottom of the bottle, the despair of despairs, someone would still pick up the phone. someone would still hold me and didn't question the tears in my eyes. someone would still check in, ask me if i've eaten or had water, send me a silly video in hopes of lifting my spirits.

they have made me a better person. all of this has made me someone who wants to try, because how else am i going to be there for the people i love if i don't put some real effort into keeping myself here? while i cannot say that this exact method of thought works for everyone (and it would probably be unwise to do so), it hit me like a train one day. that oh! i want to be here, and i want to be there for the people who love me. i want to love them with everything i've got, and make sure they don't have to doubt that.

i have grown more discerning, to who i give myself away to. too many years of bleeding myself out, i think. i hemorrhaged. i was almost as good as dead, like i had wanted to be anyway. and i kept asking myself, who would want this? who would bother to keep me around?

( "my family", i reminded myself. i know how much i hurt my mother. how i devastated my sister. how even my father saw me differently. how my grandmother and i held each other in the throes of our shared despair. how i had to promise myself that i would never make my grandparents bury me.

but even all of that comes with a terrible weight.

i still worry that there will come a day where they will not want me anymore. i am not the daughter they know. the shape my parents molded for me has not fit me in over a decade. it never will, ever again. my sister knows. has kept her promise of secrecy until i am ready. but even she knows that this is a terrible weight.

what a weight. to risk being unloved for good. to accept their fractured love, to keep myself smaller and more digestible, to keep myself safe for a little longer. )

then, a funny thing happened:

my friends kept me anyway.

not everyone, not by any means. i shut people out on purpose, pushed them away in droves, how could i expect them to understand that it was all a cry for help? one i didn't even really get. but my god, they held on, and we held on. and next thing i knew, the worst stretch of my life was ending.

and you remember the look on your friends' faces when they insisted that we're tired too. we really don't have to keep going - it's okay. and you remember that the only people who have given you permission to exist are your best friends and your grandmother. //... you bought those tickets because you love your friends and you want them to have an experience they'll remember. they pay you back in any way they can. it's more than you've gotten in a long time. (february 2023, unpublished draft)

and god. the things i could say about these people, i wouldn't know where to start. their unabashed love for what they enjoy. the way they handle one another with care and understanding; even if they have not been shown that compassion, even if things fuck up and fall apart, even if the world is too cruel to bear, there is so much care. they are clever and funny and impossibly quick to the punch (sometimes to the point where i can't keep myself upright). they are courageous even when they might doubt themselves. they are thoughtful, curious, never willing to take the world at face-value when there is so much to discover.

my friends are artists and poets, performers and observers, craftsmen and analysts, more beyond that even, and they are brilliant. whether i have known them since early childhood, or from the past few years, or somewhere in between -- my life is so full of color because of them. i could sing their praises until the end of my days, and i think i will to be honest. i am tired of stifling my love. it is so loud.

one of my dear friends back in new york taught herself self-compassion through writing and performing a one-woman show; it was the most transformative experience i've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, just by being her dramaturg from thousands of miles away. it reminded me of everything i have gotten to see and understand in all these people, just by waking up. i have gotten to celebrate in their joys, mourn their losses, shake out a battle cry at all that has tried to keep them down. there is so much i wish i could fix for them, but i know that is far out of my control. so i will do what i can. i will be there, with a torch, one foot in front of the other through night.

did you know my friends are writing books, that people will read someday, and feel changed by? did you know my friends are making art of all kinds and sharing it with the world, or just with one another? did you know they're trying their fucking hardest to support themselves through an impossible world? that they have more people to love, who get to experience them too? that they have dreams to chase and hopes to protect? did you???

( to be honest, you probably did, even if not directly.

it's such a cool fucking thing. a beautiful thing. to see how people love each other so earnestly. we do that by choice. we choose love on purpose. that alone has kept me on tumblr this long, to see how that love resounds even with people i've never talked to. )

and there are people i still need to do better by. family, friends, anyone who's lingered on the fringes. there are crossroads i must figure out how to go down, if certain directions will put me in danger or if i am simply too afraid to try again.

but i am here to love. i am here to do it scared, again and again, even after getting hurt enough to give up (for good, almost).

they saved my life by reminding me that i was worth the pain of saving myself. and god, i am going to be grateful for the rest of my life. one -- with hope and effort -- longer than i ever expected.

and obviously: if and/or when y'all read this, thank you. even all this isn't enough.

#personal #after hours journal #cw suicide #cw transphobia #(briefly)#it really is a piece about like - hope. and love. so much love.#but pls do not put yourself in a bad space to listen to me ramble #pls don't rb #(unless we're - mutuals? friends???)#(or ig if you've got a Reason feel free to come talk to me)

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shesnake · 2 years

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if you're up for it, would talk about your thoughts on lila's character this season? i think she had some great moments but the more i think about it the more uncomfortable with the direction they took. it seems more people like her now but there's not much in depth discussion, so i was curious what you had to say as someone who also loved her since s2

good morning to you and the other anon who sent me this right before you did:

tua spoilers:

ohhhhhhhh myyyy goddddd I am so pissed off about lila’s wasted potential. last season people were soooo unkind and unsympathetic towards lila for her actions after being raised by the handler and damaged in the exact same way reginald had done to the hargreeves family. I think it might have been worse for lila actually, because she was all alone with no other siblings to lean on growing up, and was always driven by a sense of vengeance for her real parents, who she still remembers. this plus the fact that she’s remained under her mum’s control even as a 30+ year old adult unlike the hargreeveses who have at least had over a decade to step back and process what happened to them (pretty unsuccessfully sure, but time does heal SOME wounds). it really annoyed me that so many people refused to see that she was just like the umbrellas and just wrote her off as a lying manipulative bitch, but when has any fandom been fair on women characters of colour?? especially with tua, and especially since lila is also a major love interest.

but yeah anyways season 2 left lila in a really interesting emotional place, perfect for further character development that could have actually driven the entire story forward. because while the umbrellas squandered their last decade alone from each other, lila could have been recovering from that same kind of trauma but this time with support from diego and the others. I like the idea of the hargreeves siblings seeing someone who is them from ten years ago and knowing how to help them because they know where they themselves went wrong.

then season 3 decided to scrap that idea and instead give lila a very awkward speedrun through trauma recovery by making her pregnant thereby forcing her to confront her emotions about her abusive mother by dealing with the oh so humourous conundrum of becoming a mother herself. the lie with diego about stan went on for wayyyyy too long and it all just boiled down to boring and sexist romance tropes you’d only expect to find in fan fiction, with diego holding her back from doing anything. the whole thing is just sooooo lazily written to fast-track lila getting on the same emotional journey as the hargreeveses.

and then yeah, there’s the raw fish thing. I don’t think I saw lila drinking any alcohol but she was definitely looking for some at some point. so was she really pregnant anyway??? and then with the zap at the end with them losing their powers and diego and five and luther getting their whole bodies back does that mean lila still has her baby, if it did ever exist?????? they’ll probably just fall back on the “well. lila’s just a crazy lady!~” answer to everything (also i did NOT appreciate all the jokes about them in the asylum like my guy... it was the 60s they were put in there for being brown). fucking horrendous writing. ritu and david are soooo lucky their chemistry was electric enough to stop me from turning the show off.

#the umbrella academy #lila pitts #tua spoilers #replies

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ultraericthered · 11 months

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Star Driver - To The Guy Who Didn’t Get It

It seems like whole decades have gone by since the early 2010s and it makes me feel so old, yet I tend to forget how somewhat different the online fandom/social media scene was compared to now, especially in regards to critiques of then-still running shows done on blogs. And I happened upon one on Blogger (Anyone remember that blogging site? Does anyone still use it?) by an anime reviewer who blogged his thoughts on different anime episodes after they’d aired. And back then in 2010-2011, Star Driver was one such anime.

To say he wasn’t a fan would be almost understating it given the scathing remarks he blogged about it on a weekly basis. While obviously his thoughts and feelings on it and mine could not differ more, I understand that people have different tastes and that’s perfectly acceptable and right even. ...But y’know the saying that goes “you’re entitled to your own opinion, but not to your own facts and logic?” If your argument for or against something is based in illogical fallacies and disregard for objectivity and truth, even the sort of objective truth in regards to what’s groundded in what is canonical to works of fiction, it’s not a good argument and deserves to be torn apart. It doesn’t help that this blogger was that sort of pseduo-critic anime snob who had some ideas about how good storytelling, character writing, worldbuilding, and overall execution of a made-for-TV animated series should look like that I don’t think has aged very well on today’s online world. So even though it was years ago and on a whole ‘nother site, I just HAVE to rip this hater a new one here!

On Episode 1:

...wait, what the Hell is going on in this show? It's only episode one and I already feel mired in things that I don't understand, a sense of confusion that only feels all the more jarring after the sudden change in gears from comedy school setting to giant robots and people with masks jabbering about Cybodys. I'm sure this sense of confusion is kind of the point, and that all will be explained in due course, but I can't help but feel that this plunge into "the science bit" was a little too sudden - had it come at the very start of the episode it might have worked, but in jerking us out of our previous sedate reverie it just feels wrong.

In Which Anime Blogger Complains About The Entire Effing Point. The series is meant to hook you in here because you’re sent reeling from what’s going on, because you’re confused and don’t understand what’s being talked about and what’s being done, because of the tonal whiplash and clashing between two types of shows that leads to such insane high octane action and unashamed campiness. There is no “kind of” about it, it is absolutely the point. I swear that this came up elsewhere on the blog but this blogger was not familiar with the creators other works, mainly Revolutionary Girl Utena, and it constantly shows. If Star Driver, right out the gate, is How Not To Make An Anime, then Utena should’ve tanked and never recieved all the glowing critical praise it’s gotten over the years because it did all the exact same stuff with its storytelling and presentation. And he thinks the show needed to lead with the Cybodies and the Crux in order to let the viewer know that this wasn’t just some high school romcom anime and that we’d be in for some weird and exciting mecha stuff? Not only is that unimaginative and belittling of the audience’s intelligence, patience, and attention spans, but it misses that one of the earliest spoken lines was Wako saying “I smell a boy I don’t know”. The guarantee of silly weirdness was already given to us right there, we didn’t need to see the costumes and robots yet.

On Episode 2:

we finally come to what I'm guessing might well be our weekly dose of action, as Takuto and his Cybody Tauburn find themselves under attack by opponents looking for revenge, and of course the opportunity to get their more accomplished foe well and truly out of the way. While it looks for a moment as though they might succeed, in typical giant robot anime fashion Takuto steps things up a gear when he needs it most and wins the day once again. Hurrah! Again he shows he’s not watched Utena or any of the Sailor Moon shows, where this sort of usual “weekly dose of action” formula was common. And yes, that’s exactly how it goes. You figured it out!

On Episode 3:

On the other hand, it still feels like we're quite some way from understanding exactly what's going on, and I can't decided whether this is a good thing or not - it's certainly leaving me hungry to know more, but by the same token I feel like I need more information to actually settle into enjoying this show or otherwise.

“Can’t decided?” And no, it’s totally a good thing. If you’re spoonfed way too much information too soon, you coming to see the grand design of the series as it unfolds before your eyes and understanding it better wouldn’t be nearly so rewarding. The best stories give you only the most basic, general and digestible information right at the start, then more pieces of information come at you in gradual doses, big and small, so that the huge perspective-altering bomb drops of later on can come in naturally and feel earned. And once you have all the information and context behind everything, going back and looking over those earlier parts of the story that you’d first viewed through a lens of not knowing all information and context will make you see so much of what you’d seen and heard before in a new light.

Well, we're now three episodes in, and Star Driver remains little more than a pile of nonsense that doesn't know what it wants to be in terms of its plot. One minute it's a high school comedy, the next its some kind of harem show, then it's a drama of sorts before we move to the week's admittedly impressive action scenes where we get to watch some big robots fighting... now with added swords! I keep telling myself that there's something big, clever and more intricate in terms of the show's story just around the corner but I'm beginning to wonder - Star Driver is increasingly looking like some kind of "robot fight of the week" anime with little else to say for itself to the point of being wilfully obtuse.

Star Driver knew exactly what it wanted to be in terms of plot, what conclusions it wanted to reach, and how it wanted to reach them - this dude is the one who didn’t know. The high school comedy, harem and fanservice antics, and human drama aspects of the show are all core parts of the show’s identity when on the island outside of Zero Time and are pieces moving in tandem with one another to service not only the mecha anime action-adventure spectacle but the larger narrative, character arcs, and fundamental core themes. The “big, clever and more intricate something” was always right there, thinly veiled behind the campy, stupid, ridiculous “robot fights of the week” show, as that’s the sort of thing Igarashi likes to do.

A commenter on this blog also had this to say:

Seriously, at this point we can dispense with the rest of the show and just fast forward to the part where that caged girl starts singing. :)

Uh, no we can’t, because if we skipped the island stuff and only took in the Star Driver/Cybody shenanigans in Zero Time, everything the story culminates in by the grand finale, and the two arc finales before that, would have no meaning to us, as such meaning was only found in the parts of the show set within Southern Cross Island daily life.

On Episode 5:

I thought that perhaps the previous episode of Star Driver was paving the way for a slight shift in the show's formula and way of doing things... but no, I was wrong, as episode five proves to be another rinse and repeat affair which introduces a character, ties them in to the Glittering Crux brigade and then finishes with a Zero Time battle between said character against Takuto.

I can actually see his point here, at least. It’s rather strange that “Meaning Of The Mandrake” was placed after “Wako’s Song” rather than before it, ‘cause if it had been the other way around, the latter four episodes of the first arc would feel like they had more momentum of importance compared to the first four. The third arc had a similar issue in terms of where they placed the backstory episode - the middle arc (”Innocent Blue Chapter”) is the only one where they nailed the contents and the pacing pretty much perfectly.

Even though we're five episodes in now, I still can't figure out just what Star Driver wants to be (if it even knows itself) - last week's episode seemed set to shake things up a little before this instalment brought us back to the same old episode layout while playing its plot mostly for comic value, right up to our school nurse being defeated while she's checking Takuto out. Okay, that moment was pretty funny (and there were a few other giggles to be had from this episode), but I have to admit that it wasn't what I signed up to Star Driver for and it needs to do a whole lot more if it isn't going to join the rather considerable pile of forgettable mecha series that decorates the world of anime like some elephant's graveyard.

Yes, Star Driver knows what it is and what it wanted to be, this is a “you” problem here, Mr. Blogger. The fact that it does offer such big shakeups every three episodes or sometimes every other episode shows that Ikuhara and co. were well aware of what they were doing and how they wanted to play their cards. And oh, the sheer dumb of those later statements. If you “didn’t sign up to Star Driver” for all the goofy stuff that define it as Star Driver, maybe you should’ve thought twice about signing up for Star Driver! And if by even that point your impression of Star Driver was that it could wind up “forgettable” if it didn’t push for being more than what it was at the start, I just don’t know what to tell you. Youv’e got such a terrible attention span.

On Episode 6:

At last, this feels like a real step forward for Star Driver, away from its sometimes frivolous characters and plot progression towards what feels like a more solid footing.

Yes. That was the whole point. That was the whole PLAN. NIMROD!

On Episode 8:

Herein lies the major problem with Star Driver as it continues on its merry way - no matter what happens to the major characters within the show and no matter what developments emerge, it seems like the series is Hell-bent on keeping its episode format intact. This makes for a tiring and predictable viewing experience where we know exactly what's coming, but we still have to sit and wait for most of the episode for it to happen. This wouldn't be so bad if the build-up to the giant robot scraps were packed to the rafters with fascinating drama and character development, but this is rarely the case, instead leaving us with some rather overblown stuff that doesn't have any real impact. Sugata's plight should have made for a huge amount of potential, yet here we are with that part of the story seemingly resolved and yet virtually nothing was made of it. No matter how much I want to like Star Driver (and those fight sequences really are increasingly impressive), it just seems to disappoint me every time I try to give it another chance.

Once again, see Utena, which did the exact same thing of “Episode Format Status Quo Is God, But Not Necessarily An All-Mighty God”. That show had an entire midsection story arc where the conclusion was that its main villain and events were wiped from having ever existed and from the minds of other characters, as though the whole arc that spanned several episodes straight never happened - that’s something that should be decried as a giant time waster and a Filler Arc, but the effects of what happened in it and where it left our characters mattered greatly to the events to follow. A series doesn’t have to break its status quo and throw game-changing, character-effecting, crucially timed, urgently paced, high stakes developments at us every other episode in order to have narrative depth, character development, and plot progression. Sometimes, this way is good enough, where you have the gist of what the show’s all about and know what to expect and what you might predict, but may still be surprised, enthralled, and delighted by the execution and might even find you weren’t as ready for what you end up seeing as you thought you were going into the episode, meaning it’s NOT always a “tiring and predictable” experience, as you won’t always know EXACTLY what you’re in for in terms of the whens, hows, and whys of what gets played out in the story being told. During my rewatch, I noticed a lot of the good, juicy bits of drama and character development that were seeded into those breather periods on the island away from the Crux’s lair and out of Zero Time, and Sugata’s plight was far from resolved by Episode 8 - it simply was transitioned from one point to the next, as oftentimes when things reach an “end”, it’s actually just a phasing out of something that comes with a phasing in of something else semi-connected. The Adventure Of Life Goes On and all that.

If Star Driver was disappointing him, it’s because he set himself up for such disappointment first rather than go with the anime’s flow.

On Episode 10:

Star Driver has become dull and predictable, and there certainly wasn't anything on show this episode to change that. We're now even at the point where those previously spectacular mecha battles feel run of the mill, leaving us with little to look forward to each week. Something needs to break Star Driver out of its over-used mould, but at the moment I simply can't see anything capable of doing that.

Predictable, yeah. Dull? Hell no, hardly! And “I can’t see anything capable of doing that.” The You twins were RIGHT F**KING THERE!

On Episode 11:

So, another episode of Star Driver has passed, and I'm still utterly bored with its predictable layout and the knowledge that Takuto will always win his battle at the end of the episode one way or another. Even outside of the action, the whole story surrounding "Simone" felt horribly forced whilst proving to be equally dull in its own right. I'm seriously starting to think that this series is entirely beyond redemption now, but can I really drop a show after sinking almost six hours into it?

If he was so “utterly bored” of this show, what was he doing still writing these posts on it? Takuto having to win all of his battles at the end one way or another is a feature rather than a bug, and does not necessarily break immersion or enjoyment - a lot of the oldest comic books and action-adventure TV serials, the sort of stuff that inspired Star Wars, were like this, where the hero is allowed to be put in peril and leave the audience going “Oh no! How will they get out of this one?” without there being any hint of a doubt that they will indeed “get out of this one” in the end so that they can go on to their next thrilling adventure, rinse and repeat. It’s not super dramatic because it’s not made to be - it’s made to be FUN. It’s good old fashioned escapism and entertainment. If that’s not one’s cup of tea, then they ought to stop drinking it for no reason but to prove that they can.

On Episode 12:

While the comedy for this episode of Star Driver was far sharper than anything we've seen from the show of late, that's really all it has going for it as per usual - it got a few laughs, but was otherwise as dull and lifeless as ever. There are brief hints of movement courtesy of Kanako meeting and conversing with Mizuno, but considering we're effectively at the half-way point of this series it would be nice to see something other than the odd glacial snippet of plot progression. I too like to throw around words like “dull” and “lifeless” and “boring” and “tepid” and “predictable” and “frivolous” and “forgttable” and even “utterly” without really thinking about whether or not I’m applying them to anything that actually truly matches the meanings of those words but if they make me sound like a real critic who knows what the fuck he’s talking about then I use them, I R super smart! Again, the Black Rose arc from Utena’s midsection deserves mention here.

On Episode 13:

I really have nothing new to say about Star Driver now - it's utterly dull and lifeless, and the plot of this particular episode was plain to see within the first five minutes of the episode, making Takuto's eventual victory even more of a foregone conclusion then it was already. With no peril, danger or intense action to this show's name, what is the point exactly?

There it is again - “Dull and lifeless!” And in this episode’s case, it’s a Breather Episode and an actually well-placed one at that. I also described already what the point of the show is - to entertain and be fun, sincere and wholesome and even compelling to any who actually engage with it. It’s not a bad show, you’re just mean and joyless.

On Episode 14:

That said, I do have to point out that pretty much everything that was good about the second half of this episode was blatantly stolen from Evangelion (and more specifically its recent movies), but if pinching cool visual concepts and ideas from that series makes Star Driver better than I say go for it.

A mecha anime gets mind screwy and throws in some psychological and existential angst coupled with visual horrors? “Blatantly stolen” from Evangelion rather than just influenced by it! Overall, this episode hasn't left me with renewed confidence that this series has a clue what it's doing or what its end-game is, but it's at least managed to find a little more potential and promise to keep me watching for the time being. If only it hadn't taken so long to do so...

You’d had to have completely missed the underlining purpose of this episode to come to that conclusion. Everything about the Ayingott project and what Marino was doing as Vanishing Age’s substitute leader was thoroughly schemed out by Head and Ivrogne in order to move things to the next phase, which itself ties back around to earlier set-up with Sugata and Samekh, and what’s truly motivating Ivrogne in her actions. The series’ end-game is a clear picture that comes together like a great big picture puzzle whose pieces you weren’t even looking at ‘cause you were too busy whining about the series!

On Episode 15:

What's this? An episode of Star Driver that doesn't follow the exact same pattern of nearly every other episode that came before it almost to the second Stop the presses! After moaning about it for so many weeks, simply breaking out of Star Driver's cycle of drama -> Zero Time -> Takuto wins feels like a breath of fresh air which left me watching the clock and thinking "however are they going to fit a pointless Cybody battle into this episode?". Well, thankfully they didn't, instead giving the rest of the plot some much-needed room to breathe - something it did reasonably proficiently with plenty of angst and drama to lean on whilst also shifting the positions of a few key pieces on the show's chess board, most notably Sugata and our "mysterious" (or not so mysterious) painter aside from Mizuno herself.

Yeah, even this asshat couldn’t not give these episodes their due.

only to enter some kind of Endless Eight-esque state where every time she leaves she simply wakes up and has to start all over again - a situation which leaves her a nervous and bawling wreck in a ferry terminal car park after numerous iterations (again, much like most viewers of Endless Eight after a few episodes).

Including this here because it’s actually pretty damn funny. This alone wasn't enough to make Star Driver suddenly seem like a far more compelling series, but following on from last week's more focused offering the signs of improvement are certainly there to be seen. It has a way to go, but at last there's light at the end of the tunnel of mediocrity from which this show desperately needs to escape over the coming weeks.

If it wasn’t, then maybe it honestly didn’t even need to be? What it did for me was make these episodes themselves, and retroactively every episode that featured and slowly advanced the arc of the You twins, far more compelling in and of themselves. The remainder of the show could’ve tanked and it wouldn’t change how great this section was.

On Episode 16:

This leaves me with an episode that I'm rather torn about - the revelations and story built around Mizuno turned out to be quite a nice twist in the tale (although they arguably weren't used to their fullest extent) and the Zero Time section this week was absolutely stunning even by this show's standards, while the Glittering Crux finally reaching their so-called Third Phase after blathering on about it for several months is as much of a relief as it is a sign of some tougher competition for Takuto. Set against that, the whole flashback element into Takuto's past for this episode felt clumsy and bolted on, leading in to a sudden upgrade to Tauburn's powers that was boringly predictable but unavoidably so.

Fair point. I can see why the action grinding to a halt just to give us some backstory that ties directly in with Takuto’s big finisher of that day might feel off for some viewers and take them out of the whole moment, but I personally liked it and will have stuff to say on it later.

Thus, I don't know what to make of it all - certain elements of the series have moved in some decidedly interesting new directions while others look to be stuck in a rut. Overall I suppose that's an improvement, but it still isn't enough to turn Star Driver into a good series at this juncture, let alone a great one.

See what I said before about these Mizuno arc episodes. And to me, Star Driver was always a good series, and these episodes, plus Episode 20 and the final two, just solified it into a great one.

On Episode 17:

Just as it seemed as it Star Driver had broken free of its repetitive episode conventions, it looks like the announcement of third phase combat last time around has seen a return to the tried and far from trusted episode layout of weeks gone by - high school hijinks, Glittering Crux meeting, big battle where Takuto wins via some previously unknown/unexpected deus ex machina.

“This show...is still Star Driver! WHY IS IT STILL STAR DRIVER?!?”

On Episode 18:

I remain both bored and unimpressed with Star Driver again at present - every time is looks set to do something to come out of its coma of predictability, it somehow manages to ruin the whole thing. For what is supposedly an anime about Cybodies which could change the entire world as we know it if the Glittering Crux Brigade succeeds, there's still no tension or drama in anything we see - battles are finished with the equivalent of a flick of the wrist, and more time is spent on school life shenanigans than any form of character building or plot development. Perhaps someone should get the Madoka Magica team onto a mecha series when they're done with that show? By all accounts they could do a far better job than this effort which seems to borrow from numerous other similar series whilst completely missing the point of what makes those shows great.

Oh my God, this dude.... The anime is not “about” the Cybodies and the stakes of what should happen if Zero Time was broken and they were all active outside of it again. It literally ends with Zero Time broken yet doesn’t make anything more of it than what’s needed for the immediate focus of the final action. This is called “missing the forest for the trees.” There are some shows, even shows with giant robot fights, that are not made to ride and die on the sort of “tension and drama” that this blogger pines for. And in fact, a lot of the character building and slow-burn plot development to set up the next big advancements are in those smaller, so-called “school life shananigans” that he thinks shouldn’t be allowed in a mecha anime. The reference to Madoka here is important because it’s such an apples-to-oranges comparison; Madoka is a anime with plot and character drama that’s very tightly written, and drama and stakes that escalate by the episode, because it was a 12 episode one cours anime where continous serialized storytelling was necessary and breathing room a no-go. Star Driver, meanwhile...is not that. And how ironic that he said that last part when he himself was missing what made this show great because he was too hung up on his own preferences and expectations, likely influenced by other shows!

On Episode 19:

That aside, I felt that the whole "body snatching" aspect of this episode was rather a wasted opportunity - not much was done with a scenario that was ripe with potential, and Kou and Madoka were both so useless in their body switching roles that they frittered away the chance to cause some genuine chaos far outside simply messing with Wako's head.

Another valid, legitimate criticism. Those are more relieving to come by on this blog than outlier episodes are to come by on Star Driver!

On Episode 20:

After frittering away so many (read: almost all) of its episodes, it's nice to see things finally building in an interesting direction at this late stage - although I can't quite get my head around Takuto's parentage at this juncture (is Tokio really that old?), we did learn some significant information about the man at the helm of the Glittering Crux Brigade, finally see a fire (or at least a slightly damp match) lit under Takuto's feelings for Wako, and perhaps most important we got a Zero Time battle that was interesting for almost thirty whole seconds, which is a new record on my watch. With next week's episode also promising to continue in the right direction, can Star Driver pull out a decent ending to this tepid series? It won't be enough to save it from the halls of anime mediocrity, but regardless of that I sure hope it does so that my hours of watching this series don't prove to be in vain.

Tokio’s First Phase slowed his physical aging, which is why he still appears to be college aged at most. Oh, and more throwing in big sounding critic words/ “Tepid”? “Mediocrity”? By whose measure?

On Episode 21:

Not for the first time with this series, Star Driver hits upon something interesting only to render it utterly dull and useless with its staunch refusal to add any kind of peril to proceedings. In this case, we were finally faced with a conflict where someone absolutely had to die, no questions ask or no chance to sidestep this brutal truth... until the episode pulls out a deus ex machina so it can all end without anyone getting hurt. What. The. Fuck. Star. Driver. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why everyone is raving about Puella Magi Madoka Magica and the world it's woven where everything has serious and realistic consequences; this is also why nobody gives two flying monkeys about Star Driver any more. The sooner this show finishes and puts us all out of its abjectly mediocre misery the better.

I cannot with this doofus and his vocabulary. Here’s where the Madoka thing comes back (ironic since that’s the name of the character in question who didn’t get offed), and for one thing, it aged poorly given how Mami and Kyoko, two characters who we saw absolutely definitely die on-screen just come back to life at the end which sort of negates the weight of their deaths (though Sayaka doesn’t for some reason?), the serious consequences at the very end of the series were so mired in the fantastical that you can’t really call it “realistic”, and then after that initial series, everyone came back and a whole freaking Madoka multiverse was established, so it’s not exactly a super grounded, gritty, true-to-life anime experience. And second of all, it exposes how limited this person’s scope of what can pass for a solid, enjoyable, satisfying series with good storytelling even is. If a series isn’t like a steadily building, super tense, dark, bleak, violent and suspenseful “Anyone Can Die At Any Point” affair like Game Of Thrones, or even a one cours quickie filled with darkness and edge, thrills, chills, kills, shocking plot developments, mindblowing and/or soul-crushing reveals, and constant bordering-on-torture-porn misery and despair at every turn every week like Madoka, then it’s just garbage to someone like this. It’s so sad to me.

On Episode 22:

Mark, who is played by Takuto and really doesn't do anything interesting at all aside from getting to kiss Wako at the end of the entire ordeal. Which is, to be fair, a pretty awesome thing to do.

Another moment where even a first class fool can see reason.

Above all though, much of this episode is really just about hammering home the current state of Wako's heart when it comes to choosing between Sugata and Takuto, as though the end of last week's episode didn't make that entirely clear and we needed to sit through all of this to explain things. The state of Wako’s heart at the moment wasn’t about “choosing between Sugata and Takuto”, as she was starting to realize more and more after her birthday that she felt equal love for them both. The real drama that was being shaped here was the idea that Sugata could possibly renounce what his heart was feeling for Wako in favor of finally embracing and using Samekh’s power, which is the future that Keito was offering him and hoping that he would take.

I probably wouldn't be so harsh on this episode if it were ensconced within the first half of Star Driver, but with only three episodes to go the series still seems intent on pissing away what little time it has left on incredibly dull and forced plot devices in the hope of somehow seeming "deep" that really add very little to either the show or its characters. I know that Star Driver is a lost cause now, but there's still so much I want to like about it that even at this juncture I get frustrated by its inability to do anything worthy of note with its setting and the individuals within them. Goodness knows it has enough intriguing, likeable or downright cool characters to play with, so how we ended up with this tepid and clumsy cluster-fuck of a series is becoming increasingly mind-boggling.

You know why that entire paragraph got bolded. Take it away, Luke!

EXCEPT for “Goodness knows it has enough intriguing, likeable or downright cool characters to play with” - those words were right.

On Episode 23:

But what's this? A major plot twist involving Sugata? Wow, I never saw that one coming at all.

A good plot twist is one that makes logical internal sense within the narrative and character-based framework and advances the story in an interesting direction, not just one that you don’t see coming. I mean, he even goes on to say this and thus sound contradictory:

Okay, so Sugata's defection does make things a bit more interesting for the final couple of episodes, and it does also fit in better with the evolving relationship dynamic between the remaining maidens, Sugata, and Takuto.

However, that doesn't make this anything less than another clumsy implemented slice of utter mediocrity where Zero Time also means Zero Excitement and Zero Peril. Nothing has grabbed or surprised me even at this late stage of the game, meaning that the only real excitement I have left is the thought that in a couple of weeks I'll finally be done with this tepid series - fingers crossed it doesn't get licensed in the UK so that I have to watch it all over again though.

“UTTER mediOCRITY!” “Where’s teh EXCITEMENT and PERIL?” “This is most tepid series! TEPID, I SAY!” And of course he’s British!

On Episode 24:

Even a show as largely dull and tepid as Star Driver can't screw up its penultimate episode on account of being too dull... although episode twenty-four certainly tries its best at doing just that before the sheer weight of interesting stuff available to the series finally forces its way through.

And I don’t know what else I expected from YOUR penultimate effort!

Okay, I have to confess, the end of this week's episode of Star Driver was pretty damn cool - once I'd suppressed my laughter at the sheer stupidity of nobody recognising any Glittering Crux member until they remove their mask and go "hey, guess who?!", there were some awesome visuals on show and everything seems set up right to deliver a finale free from all the fluff and nonsense that the series has drowned in up to this point. The fact that it took half the episode to get to this "good bit" remains a blatant reminder of everything that's wrong with Star Driver, but at least for once it seems set to actually deliver on its potential - if only it hadn't left it so late to do so.

I’m starting to suspect this dude might actually end up liking Star Driver: The Movie better than Star Driver: The Show, as it gives him basically what he’s asking for in terms of cutting down on the “fluff and nonsense” and hitting off all the “good bits” of lore and drama and fighting action with marked high stakes and twists and turns and all that PLOT PLOT PLOT!, even when said “good bits” would feel hollow and stripped of all deeper meaning due to what was missed out on with the “building block bits” of the high school and island community content that are there to give you an actual connection to the characters, the setting, and the going ons. Again, reading this feels alien in an age where shows “cut too short” and having a lack of breathers and “filler episodes” is more bemoaned than celebrated.

On Episode 25:

It's taken half a year, but we finally we get the episode of Star Driver everyone had been crying out for from the very start.

................................. This fucking guy just went and said that “the episode of Star Driver everyone (read: he) had been crying out for from the very start”....was at the very end, as in the final episode, the episode that by its very nature had to be built towards and earned by a whole series worth of episodes leading up to it.

Crowning Achievement Of Dumb right there. Who thinks like this? That an action-based and character-driven serialized TV series has to lead with a series finale-worth of material from the offset in order to be deemed good? What is even the point of such a show if it can play not just its full hand but its full deck of cards right from the off-set? This is ludicrous and exposes what an impatient child this guy was. He had zero deep understanding of shit he was talking about!

Okay, it still has an utterly stupid plot (Head's motivations and actions come straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon, and Takuto's decision-making isn't much better), but it had lots of awesome action and visual spectacle to make up for that lack of coherency.

That was the whole idea. That was his character, that he was like a damaged piece of art where underneath the deep, detailed, beautiful and enticing surface, at his core were some very simplistic ideas and desires. A seflish, petty, ultimately hollow and lacking man pretending to be a boy pretending to be a man and wanted to be a boy again.

Having seen this example of what Star Driver could have been all about somehow only serves to make the rest of the series all the more disappointing - if only the series had this level of tension and peril written into it from the very start, then we might have been able to forgive the ridiculous dei ex machina that turned up on a regular basis and the distracting slice of life shenanigans that would have served better as a spin-off series in its own right.

Again, ASS. BACKWARDS. It is only because Star Driver was about so much more than the surface level space tech lore and mecha action, because it did not carry itself with this level of tension and peril written into most of its regular proceedings, that this grand finale ends up feeling as grand as it does and carrying such a staggering amount of high quality to it, the quality it feels was built, reached, and earned rather than taken for granted. And if there was anything you found to be “distracting” in the slice of life shenanigans segments, it came from you rather than from the show, which was laying its heart and soul bare in all of those moments, offering up all the smaller pieces that were to be joined together to show you the bigger picture whole of the story, but your mind and your gaze turned away from it.

In terms of wasted potential, this Star Driver must rank at the top of the tree for the last year, and one line in this final episode really said it all: an exclamation of "this battle meant something". At the show's own admission it took twenty-five episodes to have a meaningful battle in a series built around such action sequences - I rest my case.

Twenty-four episodes of a show built around (but not necessarily super focused on or all about) mech battle action sequences were all stocking up its energy and budget as it built up to the Big One, the one that would be so meaningful that it’d retroactively justify and give validity to all the smaller steps taken towards it, at the very end. This sounds perfectly reasonable, yet this guy puts it as though it’s a serious flaw. Absolutely obtuse, illiterate, unimaginative buffoon.

There were also some choice comments I had to pick out:

There was so much potential depth in SD's universe... the Cybodies, the Entropeople, the Seals... and none of it was really explored that much in depth.

Almost as if those things were never actually made to be the focal points of the story, and that the greater depth lied elsewhere?

Not to mention the lack of focus on the characters. A lot of times it feels like they're there just for the sake of being there (i.e. the lesbians).

The characters who needed to be focused on and earn the shits given about them got their focus, though it’s true that some in this cast got very short-changed, the Vanishing Age lackeys especially.

Star Driver isn't meant to have a complex plot or anything, it's meant to be mindless entertainment. People are raving about it anyway, so I don't quite understand that part o.o

I am with the spirit of this post but not the letter. Star Driver’s plot, unlike Utena’s overarching storyline, is not especially complex, its events easy to follow and dictated by certain patterns that make it pretty predictable and its primary purpose is to entertain - to please, to thrill, to amuse and even to arouse. But to call all that “mindless?” Nah, that is giving it way too little credit. I’ve seen it in its entirety more than enough times to say with certainty that there’s a great deal of cleverness, brilliance and meaning behind this camptastic joyride.

Now here’s the blogger again with some imput on his own:

although it's also interesting that both of those posts are suggesting that "people don't get it" without really explaining what we're missing beyond having not seen Utena.

I’d not seen Utena in full by the time I watched Star Driver and I was able to get it just fine, so he’s right, it really is no excuse.

I comprehend the reason for the repetitive way each episode is framed, but to be frank that framing wouldn't be a problem if the show actually had worthwhile content within that frame - witness the reaction to Madoka's early episodes which were similarly repetitive in terms of their layout compared to Star Driver. I'm also pretty sure I "get" all of the allusions the series is trying to present, but unfortunately they're all tired old concepts that aren't remedied by dressing it up in some snazzy outfits.

It’s a purely subjective matter. If the content doesn’t seem worth your while, then OK, don’t engage. It’s not going to be the same for everyone. And yet again with the Madoka reference, even when in that show’s case it only had two episodes worth of standard formulaic Magical Girl layout before someone’s head got bitten off in Episode 3, so it was never interested in playing things straight and sincere the way Star Driver was. Deeper allusions within repetitious framework are just kind of Igarashi and Enokido’s whole thing, same as Ikuhara.

What really holes Star Driver below the water is that for all of its allusion, big set pieces and attempts to build a compelling character-driven narrative, there's absolutely zero tension in Zero Time - arguably any tension disappeared the moment we were told that Takuto dying would mean "game over". We know what's going to happen every single week, and that's where Star Driver makes the jump from "too deep for people to understand" to "dull". There is shed loads of potential in Star Driver, but by this juncture it's been entirely frittered away to the point where I doubt watching a couple of other series will suddenly help it much or cause some kind of "eureka" moment.

He’s argued this ad nauseum and it’s still not holding water. Stories where the hero overcomes their obstacles and “saves the day” on the regular don’t automatically lack tension just because we’re not biting our nails with suspense or even anticipation over who might die at any given moment or itching to see the status quo upended by some destructive instance of successful evildoing that the hero fails to stop. Sometimes, Saturday Morning Cartoon flavor works and is not “dull.”

Lastly, this is who he was responding to, who has some refreshingly solid, well thought out, well understood and very agreeable things to say on the matter. As such, I’ve bolded the ones that hit the best.

I generally enjoy reading your blog posts, and you have interesting thoughts on different shows but really it seems there are things you don't comprehend about Star Driver.

What I mean by saying that you don’t ‘comprehend’ aspects of Star Driver is not that it’s ‘too deep’ but more from a narrative perspective. You’re right in saying that the posts don’t explicitly explain what people are missing. But the emphasis is that ‘plot isn’t the point’ in Star Driver, it’s more about the allusions / symbolism / themes / characters. So if people focus on the former opposed to the latter, they’re ‘missing the point’. And it’s the case that most people relate/understand to traditional narrative. In Star Driver, the audience makes out the story for themselves using the allusions / symbolism / themes / characters rather than an unfolding plot and this is where people get lost, ie don’t understand therefore don’t like it. That’s cool. This way of storytelling isn’t for everybody.

I suppose it bothers me when criticisms like yours are based on a traditional narrative as opposed to the jigsaw puzzle way of Star Driver.

I’ll elaborate. Themes / symbolism / allusions / characters are the devices used for the audience to create their own overall understanding as opposed to an unfolding plot granting them this understanding. Generally speaking, this is how it was done in Utena, hence the comparison in the links.

In a conventional narrative we have conflict/tension/resolution (simplified form). Star Driver doesn’t utilise this as stated above. From your posts I gather that the lack of tension is your major dislike, and what I’m saying (and what the links are basically pointing out) is that Star Driver isn’t designed to have conventional narrative/plot (ie tension). This is why it doesn’t resonate with many people. This is what is meant by ‘not getting’ Star Driver.

Basically in Star Driver, there isn’t a straightforward pan of events that involve conflict/resolution or build tension to ‘tell’ us the story. But rather it’s the allusions/symbolism/themes AND how the characters work within these that ‘build’ the story.

I will use your example above of the lack of content within the repetition. Within the repetition we are given clues to characters’ motives. No, they’re not big world changing reveals. But using these clues (such as reactions, dialogue) and combining them with whatever symbolism is floating around, the audience is able to build the story. Star Driver requires the audience to be cluey and build, rather being given the story. Specific example this episode: Kanako notes that Wako was angry at Madoka for flirting with Takuto in Zero Time. This is a hint that Wako is leaning towards Takuto. Combine this with a frame last ep which shows Wako carrying Takuto’s watch (opposed to Sugata’s knife) reinforces this. The ‘story’ point here is that Wako has chosen Takuto, so the audience wonders how Sugata will react to this. Yes the audience will need to use various clues to work this out.

That is how ‘story’ is told in Star Driver. Putting together the puzzle. It requires the audience to be active and build it. Which is not for everyone. Which is perfectly fine.

It’s not that Star Driver is ‘too deep to understand’. It’s that the storytelling method of Star Driver doesn’t resonate with a mainstream audience. I just wanted to enlighten you to other ways of thinking about it because for me, criticising Star Driver using traditional narrative as your frame of reference (as you are doing), doesn’t hold water.

All of that. Beautifully put. This is the link they put out there too :https://revolemina.wordpress.com/2010/11/05/notes-on-star-driver/

Related: a more recent blogging of Star Driver from “Wrong Every Time”, who ironically seems to get it much more right than this guy. https://wrongeverytime.com/tag/star-driver/

And another great one!: https://randomc.net/category/star-driver/

Bottom line of this post: this person had no love for Star Driver to begin with; that’s why he couldn’t see its actual greatness.

#Star Driver #anime #opinion #criticism #defense #hatedumb #elitism #stupidity #misaimed fandom #completely missing the point

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