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catonatrain · 1 year ago

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ok hi everyone once again i am bk to talk abt midorima shintaro !! for today, i want to talk about his character development, abt how he became a team player bc it's one of my favorite parts abt his character :D

let's start this off with this cute mido picture

[Image ID: Chibi of Midorima slightly turned around waving a hand. The background has a handful of graphics showcasing the title of the show, his name, his birthday, his height, his teamname, and basketball related items. End ID]

so midorima was a part of the infamous generation of miracles, prodigies who dominated the middle school basketball playing fields. they never lost. victory was what they knew, and what they would achieve

midorima, who was one of the few members in the group to continuously practice, especially during their third year... so with skills nearly unmatched and a diligent work ethic, midorima, just like the rest of the generation of miracles, would grow to be prideful and a difficult player to work together in a team with

so firstly, his basketball super power is making his shots 100% of the time so as long as no one touches the ball when he shoots

[Image ID: Gif of Midorima right after he shoots a 3 pointer. The ball perfectly makes it into the basket. While the ball is still midair, Midorima turns around and walks away. End ID]

as you can see here, midorima turns around quite early-- before the shot has even made it in. he has the confidence-- he's practiced hard enough to know that he has the skills to make it in, but it still shows a bit of arrogance dont u think?

regarding him and his team, he is allowed to have 3 selfish requests a day to basically let him do whatever he wants... the team lets him do it mostly because they rely on midorima's skills, but it doesn't mean they're always happy about it

[Image ID: Otsubo, Shutoku High School's captain, talking with Midorima in front of the benches of the basketball court. The caption reads "Didn't you say you didn't want to play because today's fortune was bad?" Takao listens in to the conversation from the bench. End ID]

[Image ID: Otsubo saying "Using your poor fortune as an excuse won't cut it. His eyes are closed as he is facing away from Midorima. Midorima has slowly backed away-- his eyes aren't visible due to comically being obscured by his glasses. The background has a contrast of a light yellow and dark purple. End ID]

in this scene here, otsubo tells midorima that he can play in the game he originally did not want to play in. however, if midorima makes more than two requests, otsubo'll be pissed at him, which causes midorima to slowly back away... it's just one scene where there's a bit of friction with the team's overall dynamic!

it doesn't help that midorima said this to kuroko later on (but not too far from this scene)

"No matter how weak, small, or unknown any team can fight as long as they work together. That is nothing but an illusion."

like okay!! kind of rude to say!! but its okay!! he gets humbled and learns the value of teamwork!! how its great!!

see look at him here, crying in the rain!! this happens after he experienced a loss for the first time in his life... and its the first step to his character development!!

[Image ID: Midorima crying in the rain. End ID]

look!! in the second match he does something you would expect everyone to do but its actually a shock when midorima does it!!

[Image ID: Midorima passing to Takao after faking a 3 Pointer. Behind Midorima is Kagami and in front of him is Teppei, both of whom were trying to block his 3 Pointer. End ID]

he's passing! he's working together with his team! he's not just shooting 3 pointers because they get lots of points and he's good at them!!

as teppei says:

"He acted like he was doing it for himself, but he was shooting for his team."

he's growing! he's changing! he's learning to rely on others and to trust others!! im so proud of him!! and its not just him, his own team has come together... able to harmonize with midorima much more... as hyuuga (captain of our protagonist's team) says... midorima is no longer fighting alone and his team, shutoku, is now a true team

[Image ID: Midorima getting pat on the back by his upperclassmen, Kimura and Miyaji. He is slightly bent forward and his eyes are humorously obscured by his glasses. The caption reads, "Nice, Midorima!" End ID]

they say he's annoying sometimes but in the end they can't hate him!! and look at him... smiling while playing basketball with his team... it may be hard to see here... but i trust the words of takao and koga...

[Image ID: Back headshot of Midorima having a slight smile. End ID]

as we're slowly approaching the end... i wanted to highlight the beginning of shutoku's character song! (minus takao)

youtube

"The indomitable Shutoku spirit burns within us, brighter everyday. It's time to put the fruits of our tireless labor to the test. With a stern lecture now and then, out of love. We take up the gauntlet and continue to grow. This is the infallible trust that binds our team together. We can unite as one.

this is most of the first 45 seconds of the song and it highlights how shutoku as a team puts a great deal of value in persistence and shows their indomitable spirit! they have trust in each other!! theyll work together to continue to grow!! they do things out of love!!

now, if u want to see the full extent of their growth as a team, this is your sign to watch kuroko no basket and get to episode fifty four of the anime (or the fourth episode of the 3rd season) !! that match is one of my favorite, and it has my favorite midorima and shutoku moments!

to close off, i'd like to share a very important picture of midorima

[Image ID: Midorima and Takao talking to Kagami and Kuroko. Midorima is holding the hand of his stuffed bear. End ID]

look at him hold the hands of the teddy bear... look at my son...

if u got this far, thank you so much for your time!! it's greatly appreciated :D he may be losing now but YOU 🫵 can make a difference!!

The Green Hair and Pronouns Tournament, Quarterfinals Match 3

ID in alt text

#sorry midorima for being late for this i have fallen a bit under the weather </3 but i still managed to get this out for u :D #anyways he may be losing now!! but YOU can change the tide... u can help him out!!! maybe we can tiesweep...?#ANYWAYS YES ANYWAY HERES MY LIL ESSAY FOR MIDO... MY DAUGHTER MY SON MY CHILD IN A WAY ONLY SOME WILL UNDERSTAND...#long post #poll essays #polls #Youtube

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midorree · 3 years ago

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How (I Think) Quirk-based Discrimination Works In BNHA

I've seen a lot of claims about how people interpret the quirk-based discrimination from an ableism allegory (not quite) to actually comparing it to Jim Crow laws, which is completely out of pocket. Quirk based discrimination in BNHA is very unique, especially with quirks not existing for very long in the grand scheme of things. Trying to compare it to existing forms of discrimination (that, mind you, exist in the fucking show) is simply put, not accurate in the slightest. Racism has existed for long enough for it to be embedded into our everyday lives and systems. Ableism has existed long enough that it affects how we view disabled people as people and how doctors view their disabled patients. Quirk-based discrimination has not.

PART 1: Comparing and Contrasting: Ableism

I've had this conversation a couple times with my friends, and typically we find that ableism doesn't match up with qbd. First and foremost, let's define a disability.

[Image ID: disability: a physical or mental condition that limits a person's movements, senses, or activities. A disadvantage or a handicap, especially one imposed or recognized by the law. End Image ID]

Quirkless people do not meet this standard definition unless they are already disabled. Being quirkless does not limit movements, senses, or activities in any way shape or form. Being quirkless is not a hindrance in every day life when it comes to these specific criteria.

But why would people thing that being quirkless is the same as being disabled? Let's take a look at accommodations and accessibility.

In the BNHA universe, quirks have existed for long enough that people with mutation quirks that alter their body significantly can comfortably buy clothes as seen with Shoji in some occasions.

[Image ID: Shoji is wearing baggy, patterned pants tucked into laced boots and is wearing a tank top. End ID]

He is able to buy shirts with bigger sleeve holes rather than having to fix his clothing so that he may be able to wear it himself. This is also seen with UA making a uniform so that he can fit without him having to work excessively for it.

[Image ID: Shoji wearing UA uniform. The uniform has no sleeves. End ID]

Why does this matter? Because Shoji is a perfect example of how small accommodations for people mutation quirks exists idly in the BNHA universe. Everyone has a different quirk and require different accommodations, and with Quirkless people, when it comes to buying clothes, or walking up steps, or going comfortably to a restaurant it's never a problem! Assuming they are able-bodied/neurotypical, they truly won't have a problem with getting by in day to day life.

However, there is one thing I will say is similar to ableism in this aspect: how doctors would treat quirkless people. With the opening episodes/chapters of BNHA we see firsthand how a doctor treats a child who is quirkless. Uncaring, cold, and straight to the point as to let them down as hard as they can saying "you might as well get used to it." The doctor had little to no belief that Izuku would become a hero, saying that he should pursue other careers instead. It's not a perfect match up, but I'd say in my personal experience it's pretty similar.

PART 2: Racism in BNHA

I'm not going to dwell long on this one because it's frankly very tone deaf and not very thought out to be comparing qbd to actual racism.

[Image ID: White text on a black background that states: What was worse, he would now be forces to keep his family from visiting or even living in America. It was never talked about openly, but the way quirkless were treated in the States came very close to how they handled different races with the Jim Crow laws of the past. He would never subject his Izuku to that kind of hatred. End Image ID]

There's a lot to unpack here, but let me preface this by saying this: qbd and centuries upon centuries of racial discrimination are not the same thing, especially considering racism exists in the show/manga itself. Big Yikes.

Let's start by defining what Jim Crow laws were.

[Image ID: Jim Crow laws were a collection of state and local statutes that legalized racial segregation. Named after a Black minstrel show character, the laws—which existed for about 100 years from the post-Civil War era until 1968—were meant to marginalize African Americans by denying them the right to vote, hold jobs, get an education or other opportunities. Those who attempted to defy Jim Crow laws often faces arrest, fines, jail sentences, violence and death. End Image ID]

So lets make a hypothetical and say quirkless people were treated like this. Okay, what would be an identifying factor in discrimination? Would quirkless people have to tell employers their quirk status? Possibly. Would the right to vote be revoked? Due to what? Would they be held back in educational places? Why would they be?

There are too many unanswered questions as to why these things would happen. The Jim Crow laws happened due to white entitlement after the enslavement of an entire race. Qbd happens because of inherent power dynamics (which I will get into later), and while racial discrimination has that factor, it has existed way longer and is more prevalent in society. What if a quirkless person was a quirkless person of color? Think on that.

There are also heroes of color that exist in the show, and racist caricatures of people of color.

[Image ID: Pro Hero: Native with a shocked expression and some sweat dripping down his face. End Image ID]

This fucker right here.

The BNHA universe has existing racism in and out of canon, seeing as the black/brown characters are underrated outside of the show, and microaggressed within the show.

PART 3: Kacchan vs Deku 3: How Did Deku Being Quirkless Affect Their Relationship And Why?

The line "not all men are created equal" really stuck with me while writing and thinking about this meta. Deku has understood and worked through social dynamics and understandings since he was four years old. He's understood that since he's quirkless, people with quirks hold power over him that he can't defend himself against. He understands this, and chooses to roll with the punches.

Bakugou also very much understands how social dynamics work, and chooses to use it to his advantage. He bullies Deku as a boast of power rather than a boast of privileged. It's been drilled into young Katsuki's head that quirkless people are weak, and that he is strong, His teachers are seen encouraging this behavior and the adults around him tend to not view him as a person, but as an existing beam of potential. Propaganda probably exists even in his Sunday cartoons. The strongest people he looks up to all have quirks, and he makes that correlation of quirk = strong at a very young age. He learns that quirkless ≠ strong. A part of me feels like this is intentional.

Izuku being quirkless would put him at the bottom of the food chain, in a sense, and anyone who had a quirk would be listened to more than he ever would. Izuku learned that not all men are equal because of the inherent power dynamics that come with having the ability to fly, or create explosions, or use fucking fire and ice on command, because he realizes he will never be stronger than Kacchan (at least for now). Even Izuku's idols who he considered to be strong and amazing and admirable were people with quirks. People with power over him.

When Izuku got OFA, the playing field shifted, and Katsuki was afraid and confused. Just because Izuku got a quirk, that doesn't mean Katsuki's view on quirkless people changed. We don't know if it did because its never addressed. He has made significant character development and is working to atone with Deku, but would that still happen if Deku had stayed quirkless? We don't know.

PART 4: Conclusion

The BNHA fandom has a lot of views on how qbd might work, but these are just my thoughts. These are all my opinions and if you'd like to add something feel free to! I just hate the fact that qbd is being compared to actual racism when that just doesn't apply and wanted to weigh in my two cents. Qbd, in my opinion, is all about power dynamics and how easily that can be abused.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia #bnha meta #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #this is my first time making a meta lmao #mha #pinned it bc im proud of this

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medical-gal · 3 years ago

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Death by a thousand cuts

I have been thinking about writing this for months now. Even before I decided to quit the residency at my previous job.

COVID has been kicking our ass, true, but that was (is) true for most healthcare providers all around the world.

No, my struggle started a bit before that actually.

First some background, I have been working at one of the biggest most famous ID clinics in central Europe. The clinic is in a different country than I am originally from so there was a bit of cultural accommodating at the begging. But we were a big group of ID interns/residents/fellows and specialists.

I don't actually remember that much from my first year working there. And I couldn't figure out why, but then I read in some study that when u experience a high dose of stress and/or sleep deprivation for a long time, your brain kinda stopps being able to transcribe short term memory into a long term.

I was working 100hours/week, sometimes less, sometimes more. After a year and a half, when the last half I worked in the ID ER for five months, I always stayed after working 24 hours, sometimes over 36hours, and I would see and treat 70ish patients. Nobody from the older docs would help me out, nobody from other interns either bc usually they would have their own kind of hell to take care of.

The fact that basically, inexperienced doctors are taking care of patients never really phased my ex-boss. Her mantra was that if there was a problem that you cannot resolve, you can call her and she would advise you. Which most of the time was true, I must say that.

But we all have been young docs, barely out of our medical school garments, and sometimes as it happened, we could not recognize there IS a problem that maybe needs a more experienced opinion.

I am often confronted with this idea or more like a culture, of pretending that once you are an MD you don't need help and asking for it is a kind of weakness and that then you are forever on the list of WEAKLINGS.

And let me say this only once.

That's absolute bullshit.

Anyway, the first time I decided to quit I worked there for about a year and a half, I went for a long-expected holiday, I took three weeks off, had interviews and talked with my bf about my options.

Second thing...my man, bless his beard, would support me no matter what. He is almost 10 years older than me, so he has more work experience and I find it reassuring to discuss stuff like this with him bc I know he will not sugarcoat it. He said that I should dig my heels in and last at least one more year till the end of my "internship". As a "resident" who worked at this specific department, I wouldn't have a problem finding another job. We r basically the equivalent of a french legion of medical professionals (when u work in this specific department and everyone knows it, I will come back to that later).

So I took his advice. Thankfully as a part of our training, one of those parts is a year-long internship at the internal medicine department, which I did shortly after we had that conversation and guys, that was a revelation of how medicine and just...work and life can be experienced. There were enough docs for a floor, an attending who had the time to manage and advise us. I´ve grown that year as a doc so much. Other internships were mandatory so I could have become (equivalent of) a resident, and it was a general surgery, anesthesiology, radiology, microbiology etc. But I did them all and became a resident.

The moment I came back to our clinic, my boss would put me in our outpatient department. Which I have never worked on before. The head of the department has quit a few months before, and I had no idea what to do there, bc it's a very different type work. The only thing my boss told me when I spoke of my concerns were "you will learn".

Thankfully the previous head of the department was a good friend of mine and she would always answer my questions and requests. Suddenly I no longer had to deal with the hectic life of an ID floor or ER, no sepsis, meningitis, etc.

Most of my patients were the chronic type...Lyme, chlamydia, mycoplasma... let's say it literally drained the life out of me. But I managed. Also, I started to work for their outpatient office which takes care of patients with chronic hepatatis. That I enjoyed more.

I also started to dip my toes in vaccinology, either planned like for travel but I started to be more interested in preventive care in the immunocompromised and my own phantasmagoria was to make a palliative care team in our hospital. Bc, we had none. And then a wonderful thing happened, other docs, older experienced, great at their work, started to refer their patients to me specifically.

There were more examples of the utter a complete FUCK U(s) which were kindly provided either by the system or by the head of the department or the hospital.

Then covid hit and the shit hit the interstellar space.

I still can't make myself remember the first few months bc it actually causes me to go into a rage fit, and honestly, I am done with that kind of negativity.

I hold out for a year. Year of such shitty treatment from the chief and our hospital head. No thank you- s or you are doing a good job or we r all on the same ship.

No.

People will say that I quit bc of the money. And that's not true, tho it did irk me a bit. All the other ID specialists working at different hospitals would get covid bonuses every month. We got jack shit. Again, the best biggest most know ID clinic. We were the first and oftern the ONLY ones who would test for/diagnose/hospitalize/treat a patient who had covid FOR MONTHS in the beginning.

I mean, the medical community is small, the ID community even smaller so yes, we were able to compare and contrast the work at different ID departments in other hospitals bc our friends worked there. And all of them would go speechless when they would hear from us what we were living thru.

At one point at the beginning of the pandemic, ALL the ambulances would go thru our ER department and we were supposed to decide where the patient should go.

AN EXAMPLE

Ambulance with a woman who has known colon cancer, had a fever, stomach as a rock and is projectile vomiting. I was supposed to decide where she should go and the surgeon would be super pissed when I said that I don't think she has COVID but without PCR I can't be sure but I think there is a bigger pressing issue. I remember him saying:

"well if anyone else gets infected at our department and dies, it's on you."

fun.

There were other examples of seriously stressful episodes which I and my coworkers lived thru, for which we were not trained for, advised, or properly supervised. At a certain point, I started to take anxiolytics before and during my all-nighters bc I didn't know what I would do with all that stress which was so callously shat on me and my coworkers.

For a few months, I stopped working nights, only thru the mercy of my coworkers who saw how exhausted I was and would take my shifts.

Anyway, after only two months I had to start working nights bc I needed the money. The basic pay for docs was just not enough without the extra from night shifts. Talk about exploiting.

The moment however when I decided to QUIT, when I was DONE, when I actually heard my heart break, was the moment at the end of the previous year. They decided to start vaccinating in our tiny small vaccination centre. Let's say a "shit storm" brewing is the light version of events that ensued.

But basically, as I was trying to discuss with my boss that we are all exhausted, that this wave is not slowing down and that throwing more work at us, the docs and nurses and other staff, who are overworked, is not a good idea,

What she basically said to me is that who says things like that is lazy and that if she can handle it everyone must be also.

The thing is..most of us were at the bring. Some would handle it with casual and calous sex, drugs (legal or not), a bottle of wine before sleep. A coworker ended up with antipsychotics.

But u know,

we were all lazy apperently.

I realized there is no way out of this other than quitting. I could not continue being so tired and sad all the time. I took two weeks off, really thought about it. Had diarrhoea and nausea for a week as I realized I will have to quit :D

On a Monday I came back, handed in my notice. Basically what she told me and how she reacted made me realized how right the decision was.

I had to stay there for another three months bc that's the law, but my mood changed significantly.

I got another job in a smaller ID department, working with amazingly kind people, but that's another story.

But that was the only interview I actually looked for and did. I, however, did get several job offers from different types of medicine. From heads of different departments in my old hospital to smaller general medicine chain offices who are looking for ID specialists, to insurance companies.

Like I said, french legion.

Or Runway and your boss is Miranda Pristley. Once u survive that, u survive anything.

But at my old work they would keep hitting you with wave after wave of passive agressive comments about how if u quit, u wont be able to find anything as"prestigious" as this.

There were many other exmaples of a shitty and questionable situations which were treated as "normal" but there is not point on getting on that rage train.

Contrary as it might seem, I am greatful I got to live thru this, good and bad, bc now I know what I am and am not willing to sacrifice for a job. No matter how much I might love it.

#sorry this is long #but goddammit it needed to be said #suzy's adventures in id

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rurifangirl · 3 years ago

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oc asksssss💃💃💃

i'll anwser yours a lil later tho🤡

shou🌸

😍 does your muse believe in true love? why or why not?

kayn🌸

🧸 does your muse keep anything sentimental? if so, what do they keep and why?

evelyn🌸

🐺 does your muse like solitude? do they prefer it to being around others? how easily does your muse get lonely?

eris🌸

🎵 is there a specific song or songs you associate with your muse? why is that?

rui🌸

🤷‍♀️ how does your muse approach strangers? how does this compare to how they interact with close friends or lovers?

kerei🌸

👗 what is your muse’s fashion sense like? are they able to dress the way they want to? what would they wear in an ideal world?

kida🌸

🌱 what themes are relevant to your muse?

✨ what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

syndra🌸

🏆 is your muse multitalented? what are their hobbies, and why did they pick up these hobbies? if they don’t have hobbies, why don’t they?

lyva🌸

😱 does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?

naexi🌸

💍 does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?

myst🌸

🤝 how does your muse approach intimacy? are they hesitant, or do they like it? what types of intimacy do they like and dislike? (ex. physical intimacy, sexual intimacy, emotional intimacy, etc.)

Dw bout It, I took my time too😭😭

Shou🍵-

He doesn't have much of an opinion about It, as It wasn't really much of his interest. He was more deep into continuing his family's legacy than worrying about such things.

But, if asked for, he would've have mixed feelings.

Because he knows how fate can be, and It could happen sometimes, or even something similar like It happened with him and Qiran.

But overall, he isn't sure about its existence 100% either.

Kayn💜-

He has something that reminds him of his friends/past, even through some little pictures, an object, a drawing or something among these lines.

For example, remember that bear plushies on that one Ruri/Kayn comic? Yeah, that's one of the dearest things he's grown close to. Other than other gifts the PTSD gang already gave him.

He has something for everyone. And he treasures those greately. Some of them are even hidden, because he wants to keep them so dearly.

Evelyn⚙️-

She prefers a lot more being around others, both because of when they were pretty much left alone, and also because he generally prefers being around people.

Teasing them, being caring or just talking about their special interests with.

He's also the type of guy to usually start fights for stupid shit in bars so😭😭

Eris🌑-

Bestie my musical taste isn't,,, really that, so uhm, oddly I won't say im in love from the Hercules movie, but also not?? Like It ties up to em anyways regarding moons past and does It pretty well so whkdkskrf

Pls ignore my musical taste here

Rui💎-

It depends on whether they feel comfortable with them, or would rather avoid them.

In the first case, it's easy to start off with a friendship or trying to get more, as long as they have the right criteria.

Otherwise, they'd avoid them like the pest and would do anything and everything to avoid them😭😭 and sometimes ending into embarassing situations because of that.

Kerei🔮-

Anything goes well. He doesn't have a specifical dressing style in contrast to others, so anything cheaper and the first thing that can keep him warm Is well.

He does have a variety of choises on hats, which Is the only thing he cares about other than his hair.

Kida💮-

🌱-

Whkshsjdjd i had some troubles w this so I'll skip It🤡

✨-

It's mostly strong, female leads characters. Kinda like how Mai ended up being, while still having to face other kinds of issues. They're sometimes original by Canon, and sometimes they're added, since she Is stil from an au where canon does change quite a lot. There's not much to add, and I'm sorry to go so brief on her

Syndra⛩️-

She's really skilled in sword fighting, showed through its collections of swords. Of any kind. It's more than a simple hobby, since there's some cases in which she depends on those skills in order to survive.

She also Is pretty well at creating small objects, though it keeps It away from even those close to her, to not seem "weak" in their eyes.

Lyva📙-

She does have many fears, due to having a negletful family and little to no actual friends to rely on.

One of these things Is also fire, due to a traumatic incident where she got scolded purely cus of something even her couldn't control, and accidentaly got burned on the meanwhile.

The burned scar Is now all marginalized and basically almost cannot be seen, but it's still there, on her arm.

That's also part of the reason she doesn't wear much of "open" clothes.

Another one Is High places, but that more of an irrational fear of It. There's a couple of other more but id rather not make this too long either.

Naexi⚛️-

They aren't currently searching for a relationship, but if she could, she'd ask for someone "weaker" than them. To both being able to protect them, because of what happened in the past with Eris, and to have much control over them.

To be in power of something more than their dolls. A sentient being to obtain.

She still will give their s/o time for themselves, a but the power difference will remain as they want to.

She'll also search for compassion in that regard, even if they think they don't deserve much, for this point.

Myst🎸-

He's mostly fine with It! She's pretty touchy herself too, so getting hugs, pats or anything they're comfortable will goes absolutely amazing for him.

He's pretty uncomfortable with sexual intimacy, and as for emotional, she'll still struggle whether he has platonic or romantic feelings at times,

So he'd rather prefer a normal friendship. Even tho Lyva exists now so it's a big fucky

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @damnfoxx @dopesaladlady @nadi-117 @audre-falrose

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ajaxia · 4 years ago

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masquerade tartaglia oneshot

pov: you're at a masquerade ball, and meet someone

[ masquerade themed tartaglia oneshot. you're technically meant to be lumine but no pronouns or actual names are used, so it's up to you how you want to read it ]

your dejection only grew as you gazed around the ballroom. everyone dancing in pairs, everyone but you of course. what were you to do when the only man you had ever danced with was your brother?

aether was a hopeless romantic, his romantic fantasies were far more elaborate than yours, and almost all of his included ballroom dancing with his lady. so you read the books and taught him yourself. the enjoyment of it all even made you yearn to be able to dance as he wanted to. but instead of being the center of attention as he wished, you wanted a simple quiet dance on the balcony.

sighing you turn around to look through the window behind you. it was dark outside, nothing to be seen but the moon reflecting on the lake below you. placing a hand on the cold glass you close your eyes and remember your brother. he's all that's been on your mind tonight. you never minded the memories, but you had come here to enjoy yourself, now everything you saw was reminding you of him.

"pull yourself together." you mutter, looking away from the window and back at the waltzing couples. why were you so lonely? you didn't have your brother, and everyone you knew hadn't even bothered to look your way tonight. they were all too busy with themselves.

sure you felt happy for xinqiu, your closest friend had finally grown as close to chongyun as he hoped. but neither of them had even approached you tonight. searching for them in the crowd you spot xinqiu fixing chongyuns collar. watching the two you couldn't help but feel sorry for what you were thinking before. the two were such a perfect match, no one could get between them. watching them helped fuel your longing. you just wanted someone to dance and care for you as they did to each other. even if it's just tonight.

"they're so perfect it hurts." you hear a voice beside you. a man in a fancy black tuxedo stands next to you. the red accents catch your eye, along with the long cloak with a shimmering soft gold underside. the contrast of his blue eyes with the sharp red mask surprise you. the man simply watches you take him in, obviously enjoying it. as he leans against the wall you follow his gaze to the two blue-haired boys.

you nod, unsure of who he is but still wholeheartedly agree with what he says. "i don't think id ever be able to be what they are." you mutter.

"well we might as well give it a shot," he suggests, a playful shine in his eyes. as you raise an eyebrow in confusion, he straightens up, walks to a table, and plucks a red rose out of the centerpiece.

"would you care for a dance darling?" he asks, his outstretched hand holding the red rose.

"o-of course." you stammer, caught off guard at the sudden turn of events. he takes the rose and tucks it behind your ear. "now we match." he smirks, pointing to his red mask. glancing down at your white and gold dress you smile.

"we're just opposites tonight."

"contrast is a wonder darling." something about the way he leans towards you whenever he says something or just the way he adds 'darling' to every sentence makes you relax, he gently grabs your hand and pulls you towards the dancing couples.

his gloved hands in yours, you let your mouth turn up into a smile as the two of you dance. the music starts fast and the two of you whirl around, everything's a blur. well, everything but the very man you're dancing with.

eventually, the music slows, and he pulls you closer, the two of you sway to the music and he whispers in your ear, "i truly enjoyed dancing with you tonight. it was as enjoyable as our battle." he pulls his lips away from your ear and you tense up.

tartaglia. that's who your mystery man is.

"t-tartaglia?" you whisper, hoping to confirm whether it is your red-headed enemy or not.

"why darling, i thought you were smarter than this. could you not tell until now?" he asks, frowning.

"my deepest apologies," you quickly recover, turning back to the formal speech the two of you were conversing in.

"it's starting to feel stuffy in here." he stops swaying, now standing rigid. slowly sliding his arms off you he turns away and walks off, leaving you at the edge of the sea of dancers. he seemed hurt. what did you do wrong? quickly looking up you move out of the way and as you turn away from the dance, you see him heading to the open door, leading towards the balcony.

walking to grab drinks, you sip from one of the thin glasses as you head towards the balcony. stopping to close the door behind you, you quietly approach the harbinger from the side. he's leaning against the railing, another flower in his fingers.

"tartaglia?" you whisper.

he looks up, and you truly see him for the first time. with his mask slid upon his forehead, you appreciate the moonlight reflecting off his skin, the messy hair, and his sparkling eyes. then you frown and set the glasses on the balcony, rushing forward as you watch a tear slide down his cheek.

you cup his face in your hands and brush away the tears sliding down his cheek. "what's wrong?" you ask, he remains silent and gently removes your hands from his face. then lowers himself to the floor and lightly pats the ground next to him. scrambling to sit by him, you retrieve the two glasses you left on the balcony and lower yourself alongside him. "you can tell me anything," you smile and hold out a glass, he turns towards you and takes the glass. as his hand leaves yours, taking the glass with it, you momentarily wish he could've left his hand on yours a while longer. shooing the thoughts from your mind you turn back to tartaglia. he finishes his drink with one long gulp and as you sit there stunned he swiftly snatches your glass. his smile's weak yet his antics still the same. you giggle as he downs your drink.

"that was mine!" you seethe, he just shrugs.

"you were holding it out to me, and it's quite rude to deny a gift isn't it?" you lightly smack his shoulder, but when you see him wince you regret it.

"have you been transforming lately?" you ask, the concern shining in your eyes.

"I'm honored that you care, but it's nothing you should worry about sweetheart." he chides, taking a deep breath and looking away from you. looking at him you can't help but feel as you did that day when you witnessed him sickly and weak after fighting the ruin guards. helpless. worried. and oh so confused.

he's your enemy, why do you care so much about him? hesitating, you only hope you don't mess things up with your next few words.

"what if I want to care?" you whisper, his blue eyes turn to meet yours and your breath hitches at the sight of them.

"w-well" he stammers caught off guard, after all usually it's him making those offhand comments, "i guess i'll just have to tell you then."

he sighs and plucks a leaf off one of the vines wrapped around the balcony. "the fatui are getting worse and worse, I'm not even told why I'm doing what anymore. all I hear is 'go fight this, go fight that.' it's tiring and horrible." you just place a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say. he's being sent out to fight, isn't that all he wants?

his cold laugh shakes you from your thoughts, " i knew you wouldn't understand. I probably seem pathetic to you don't I? i told you all i wanted was a fight, and now that I'm getting them I'm complaining about it."

not wanting to lie after he read what you were thinking. you nod, confirming what he said.

"i just wanted to leave it all behind for one night. then i got an invitation, it was for a masquerade. i figured no one would be able to tell who i was, and i knew you'd be here, so I came. then because of the good time we were having i figured you wouldn't mind having me as your partner. but then your attitude changed as soon as I told you who I was and I could tell it wasn't for the better."

"oh, tartaglia!" you cry out, throwing your arms around his neck. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you repeat. his arms wrap around you and he buries his face in your neck.

"it's alright darling. i overreacted," he says, pulling away from his neck and bringing his eyes to meet yours. you can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks as his face rests near yours, only inches away.

"no you had a right, I hurt your feelings. it's not that I hate you or anything, in fact, I quite like you. but you have tried to kill me before." you remind him.

he laughs, "that was one time sweetheart, I promise it won't happen again. and even if it does, I'll give you a warning that I'm about to destroy you. after all, I prefer fair fights."

"enough fighting talk!" you pout, "let's change the subject." you think about it and then grin, "what was that earlier?"

"what?" he perks up, raising an eyebrow at you.

"you said you wanted to come because you knew I'd be here."

"oh that's because you're special." he scoffs.

"and what's so special about me?" you tease trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

"well if you'd like me to list everything, we'd be here for hours darling. I'm afraid they'd have to kick us off this moonlit balcony." you pout and he only cheekily smiles.

"you like dancing don't you?" he asks.

"of course." you roll your eyes, remembering your earlier conversation about how important dancing was.

"well come on then." he gets up and extends his hand, raising you to your feet he swiftly pulls you into position. you can barely hear the music from inside the ballroom, but it's okay. the two of you dance, already synchronized enough that the beat of the music isn't necessary.

eventually, tartaglia slows and pulls you closer.

"the way your skin shines under the moonlight," he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"the way your eyes light up whenever i tell you about my family." you open your mouth to ask what he's doing and he quickly silences you with a finger against your lips.

"shhh darling, you did ask why I think you're special didn't you?" he grins as your eyes soften.

"the way you bring your little buddy around with you no matter where you are."

"the way you still helped me with my brother that day even after I tried murdering you."

"the way your eyes showcase every emotion you're feeling."

by this point tartaglia had taken his finger off your mouth and had wrapped his arms around you, he was looking up at the moon and you quickly interrupted. "tartaglia." you whisper.

"don't call me that," he scowls. confused you raise an eyebrow but comply.

"childe?"

"even worse." you just blankly look up at him, what does he want you to call him? darling?

"darling?" you hesitantly call out.

"darling." he echoes back, then smiles at the discomfort in your eyes. "you don't have to call me that sweetheart, i understand we can't all be as charming as I am. but I'm not in the mood to be reminded of my fatui background as of now. so why don't I reintroduce myself?"

taking a step back he grins, "it's a pleasure to meet you, darling, please call me ajax." with that he falls into a bow and extends his hand, you reach out to grab it and he raises your hand to his lips, placing a whisper of a kiss.

"it's a pleasure to meet you ajax." you smile, he nods and pulls you into him once again. as you sway he mutters,

"i'm sorry. normally I'm not such a whirlwind of emotion."

giggling you acknowledge his faults, "normally it's fighting, flirting, or fascinating."

"fascinating?" he inquires. you blush and look away. "don't worry, I already know how great I am."

"do you know how conceited you are?"

"of course! self-awareness is important after all." stifling a laugh you simply slide over to the balcony and lean against it. he comes up from behind and leans on you, wrapping his arms around your neck. smiling at the banter you shared, and then the slow calmness of it all, it was perfect.

"i got to live out one of my dreams tonight," you note.

"really?" you can feel him wanting to add some self-absorbed comment so you hurry on before he can interject.

"simply slow dancing on a quiet balcony." you smile and ajax leans over your shoulder, bringing his face next to yours.

"did you enjoy it?" he asks, cautiously.

"w-well" you stammer, "i danced with a w-wonderful someone. someone who i regret not approaching earlier."

"really," he mutters, sounding pleased. "i'm glad."

"me too." you echo back.

"i believe this someone is wondering whether the wonderful lady would like to meet them again. perhaps just the two of them gone wherever the lady likes"

"s-she is having a hard t-time responding to that," you whisper. caught unawares by the sudden inquiry.

"well i hope she says yes," he says. you nod, shivering as the breeze passes you. crossing your arms to try and hold the warmth with you, you turn back to the ballroom, trying to remember if you brought a coat or not. as you near the door ajax clasps something around his neck, it's his black cloak. the thick fabric settles over your bare and shoulders you turn around eyeing the long garment dragging on the ground.

"don't leave me so soon," he whines. you roll your eyes and wait for him to reach your side. the two of you stand basking in each other's presence. observing the ballroom you both eye the warm cheerful atmosphere with slight disdain. it was much too happy in there, it reminded you too much of aether. it was beautiful in its own way, but not what you wanted, after all, tonight was your night.

turning back towards the moonlit balcony, the breeze whispers through your hair and glancing at ajax you smile.

"this is kind of-" you pause, hesitant, "nice."

"really? well, I'm honored to have been graced with the presence of such a beautiful lady tonight."

"and I with the presence of such a charming man." he hooks a finger under your chin and turns your face towards his. as the light shining through the windows casts a glow upon his skin, your eyes try to capture every small detail.

he brings his face closer to yours, and you're suddenly aware of your lips, only inches apart from his. he remains there, waiting for permission. you inch forward a bit and he leans forward, your lips crashing together. up until now, you hadn't realized just how much you wanted this, and now that you've had a taste, you aren't sure you ever want to give it up.

ajax's hand leaves your face and his arms trail down to your waist, he pulls you closer to him and a slight moan of surprise escapes your lips. reaching up you wrap your arms around his neck.

breathless, you pull away and he starts trailing light kisses along your exposed collarbone. laughing you gently shove him away.

"How was that for a kiss?" he asks, you simply blush and turn around. he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your neck. "don't be like that my love. if it bothered you that much i won't do it again."

"n-no! it was fine. i r-rather enjoyed it." your voice trails off at the end and you quickly tense up, embarrassed at the fact you let it slip out.

"so are we enough to compete with the two blue haired ones now?" he teases.

"i'd hope so," you say, turning around to face him.

"you don't understand how long I've waited for this day," he whispers.

you drink in the happiness on his features and smile back. "i'm glad you did."

#this is way too long and im sorry #unedited #genshin #tartaglia #childe #ajax #lumine #masquerade

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lilyrachelcassidy · 4 years ago

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Summer Nights (1)

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my new and long time awaited series - Summer Nights. Please read every necessary information in the INDEX of the story (warnings, summary). Do not forget that the fic is quite mature and might contain some obscene stuff (i.a. alcohol and sexual items). I’ll try to post each chapter regularly (like one per week?) however as it sometimes turns out - I can be unreliable in that matter ( ;

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: coarseness, poverty problems, swearing, alcohol and sexual items (or rather mentions of them?), reference to arranged marriage

Tags: @okaydraco @idkatee @paradigmax @winnsmills @war-sword

You turned your gaze away from a computer screen and looked yearningly out of the window on the chaotic streets of Paris.

At that time of day, the city seemed to teem with life, especially in the summer season when many tourists came over to visit the town. You could notice a variety of cultures among crowds of people. They gathered and filled in restaurants, eating and laughing, and chatting with each other.

So how, for God’s sake, did you deserve to be at work today?

The thought of scrumptious spaghetti and a glass of red wine made you feel frustrated. And cloudless, wonderful weather waiting for you outside did not make it any better. You imagined yourself laying in a bikini on the sandy beach with ‘Vogue’ magazine on your laps and Pina Colada in your hands. Or bathing in warm ocean water with sun rays smoothly tanning your skin.

These visions caused a dreamy smile to appear on your face.

However, as soon as you scooted over in a fantasy world, the poke in your shoulder brought you back to reality. You turned your head to the side to see your co-worker and best friend, Chloe. She was crouching next to your chair with her piercing gaze studying your face attentively.

Chloe was a gorgeous woman, and you could easily say that she could break more than one heart. She had big, blue eyes and long, blonde curls falling on her slim shoulders. She had full, pink lips with a Greek-type nose and prominent cheekbones that highlighted her beauty. Her figure was feminine and slender with ample bosom, flat belly, and long legs.

There had been many situations when groups of passing-by boys stopped her in the middle of the pavement, scanning her body up and down with boisterous whistles and comments of a sexual nature. Although you had always tried to stand up in her defense, she never really cared to bother much, just shrugging it off.

“Are you alright?” She narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “You look like a walking dead.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled amused, bitting your cheek. “No, I’m actually fine. Just a little bit dizzy, but don’t worry about it. ”

“For sure? You know, if you take a nap at work, I might be the first person to know about it.” both of you chortled slightly, and you rested your elbows on the armrest. Chloe’s phone started to buzz in her purse. She took it out, muted it down, and eyed you again.

“Anyways. Why are you leaving so early? It’s just four o’clock, and I thought you were ending your shift at eight.” You peeked at the watch on your hand and arched your eyebrow suspiciously at her. Now it was your turn to interrogate her.

“Well, I took a day off,” she informed you. “I’m having a date with Louis today. We meet at six, and he takes me to some fancy restaurant. Of course, he didn’t want to tell me the exact location, mentioning something about ruining the surprise. You know him..” She rolled her eyeballs playfully with a meaningful sigh and an unambiguous smile plastered on her face.

Louis was Chloe’s boyfriend, but also one of your closest friends. You couldn’t say he was the easy-going type of person, and when you first met him, you had presumed his behavior to be a little bit too ‘self-centered’. However, after many years of acquaintance, you had learned that he was rather desperate to drag attention on himself and impress others, with you and Chloe included.

“Lucky. I’m stuck in here for a night shift,” you complained, leaning on the chair's backrest and letting a small groan out of your mouth. It was the third time this week you had to stay at your job for night time. And that wore you out.

“Again?” She frowned.

“Unfortunately...” You grimaced, glancing at your friend with a corner of your eye. “My father hasn’t paid the bills again. I’ve to earn some extra money…"

"Can I-"

"I know you want to help, but please, let's not think about it," you cut the conversation out. Your face started to get warmer, so you lowered your head as not to show your embarrassment. You trusted your friend with all of your soul but still more than felt awkward when it came up with family topics.

Chloe remained silent and smiled supportively, tightly gripping your palm. You appreciated her ability to understand people’s emotions and her tact of how to respond to them.

“I really have to go, Y/N. Call me if you needed any help.” Chloe stood up and went to the backroom of the reception. She put on her coat, wrapping her green bandana around her neck, and then slightly pecked your cheek. She walked over to the exit and, for the last time, turned towards you, waved in the bye, and left the hotel.

You gaped at the place where Chloe had just disappeared, slowly letting out your breath. After a while, you switched the laptop back on and decided to occupy yourself with reading. Clicking on the ‘iBooks’ application, you selected a book - ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’. Maybe, at least that could help you take your mind off things and spend some of your time while visitors weren’t around. You opened the first chapter of the novel, but soon after, you heard someone entering the room again.

Lifting your head, you beheld an elegant woman with a younger boy by her side. You assumed them to be a family, considering their striking similarity in appearance. Also, they distinguish themselves from their surroundings with their peculiarly sophisticated garments and unnaturally pale skin.

The woman smiled at you kindly and approached the reception desk. You got up from the chair and reciprocated the gesture.

“Bonjour madame. Comment puis-je vous aider?” you asked and saw a confused expression painting on the woman’s face. She furrowed her eyebrows for a short moment and cleared her throat.

“Mm… Hello. Do you speak English?” she asked hesitantly with a language accent that informed you instantly of her origin. Many guests of the hotel usually arrived from different parts of the world, which had let you acquire the skill of guessing their probable nationalities.

“You’re British I see,” you noted, grinning. “Of course I do. Welcome to Paris! How can I help you?”

“We have a reservation under the name Malfoys.”

Nodding in understanding, your fingers swiftly started to tap the keyboard of the computer. You entered in the search engine of hotel’s guests with surname ‘MALFOYS’ and found a booking for two people.

“Could I check your ID cards first, ma’am?” you asked and saw her rummaging in the bag. Meanwhile, you started to prepare every necessary paper for her to fill out.

“Here it is,” she finally stated, and you reached over for the documents. You noticed the woman’s foot nervously tapping on the floor but decided to ignore it.

“Thank you,” you said while surveying everything. “Okay, so - Narcissa Malfoy, apartment number 354 - Presidential Suite. It’s on the fourth floor.” You laid the keys with ID cards on a counter top. “And Dra- Dra…”

“Draco. It’s Draco Malfoy,” the boy spoke up for the first time, and - by the tone of his voice - you could already judge that he wasn’t the friendliest type of a person, to say at least. You moved your gaze on his figure, and your eyes met with his stern glare, which sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. He was sitting on one of the lounge chairs located in the room, twisting a carved stick in his fingers. Quickly realizing that you stared at the object, he hid it in his pocket.

You giggled nervously and shook your head.

“Yes. Draco Malfoy. I’m sorry for my oversight.” You blushed profusely and tried your best to pretend that your pre-momentary blunder did not affect you anyhow. You took a second key from a shelf and placed it next to the first one. “Room number 355 - Royal Apartment. Although, it on the fifth floor, which means not located nearby your mom's one, sir."

“No problem for me.” Huffing, he got up from the armchair and walked over, grabbing the keys. His expression still evinced the arrogance, but now you had a chance to examine his appearance more closely and perceive his unparalleled attractiveness. His platinum hair suitably contrasted with grey irises, and the sharp jawline with his muscular body made your knees weak.

Just great...

“If there is anything you needed, please let me know,” you proffered and forced a smile, wishing it didn’t look so fake as it felt. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” said Narcissa, sauntering away with her son following shortly after. You took a last peek at Draco and saw him sending you an unpleasant look before leaving the lobby.

* * *

Narcissa with Draco entered her spacious hotel room. She began to look around the space, smacking her lips in delight. After that, she sat gingerly on her bed and discretely ran her fingers through the bedding set so as to verify its fabric. Draco knew and was accustomed to his mother’s atypical habit of checking the quality of things before using them.

She patted a place next to her, encouraging him to take a seat. He just pressed his lips into a straight line and only shook his head.

“Draco, let’s talk,” she started, grunting.“I think you should - at least - consider being tolerant of those muggles. I know it is a tough period of our lives, after the war...” Narcissa shuddered at the reference of that event and her eyes filmed over a little. “But it is time to move on. Wizarding World is not going to be this same for many years. That’s why for this vacation, I wanted us to come to the place that could let you dispose of redundant memories and experien-”

“Dispose of memories?” Draco cut her off and huffed, leaning flippantly against the wall. His voice was very tight and harsh.“How do you think I could possibly get rid of them? Maybe Dark Mark on my forearm would help me solve that issue? Or Obliviate spell would be a solution?”

At once, the blood was boiling in his veins. He didn’t blame his mother for decisions of the past, but he could not stop himself from snapping. A recollection of tortures he had had to perform on others, of tortures he had had to bear himself, of incurred deaths he had seen… and committed. That wasn’t a fleeting thing to forget.

Narcissa took a deep breath and ignored her son’s snarky comment. She decided not to give up with the plan of their conversation for this evening. So and so, he had to finally hear the truth, right?

“I and your father with Greengrass family established that by the end of this year, you are going to propose to one of their daughters.” She gazed at him, partly expecting the next outburst of emotions. Although Draco’s ears began dangerously reddening, she assumed the silence was a non-verbal acquiescence for her to continue. “You do not have to worry about arrangements for the nuptials, nor about other wedding cases. Everything is going to be organized. And I deeply believe that marring one of those beautiful girls might bring a state of contentment in your life.”

Draco gulped down his saliva and fixed his eyes on the floor, his face expressing wrath.

“I’m sorry mother, but I’ve no idea how marrying a person who I’ve hardly ever talked to could make me any happier.”

“Dear, me and Lucius did not fall in love at first sight either. Nevertheless, we accepted the unusual plight that we were put in, and then we got accustomed to leading our new, joint lifestyle,” she explained, carefully choosing her words. “And I am aware that it must be hard for you. So and it was for me. But now, I could not imagine it to be any different.”

“Well then, if you felt this same way as I do right now, please tell me why are you expecting this same from me by imposing the marriage? Why can’t I choose someone to fall in love with?”

Good point.

Narcissa seemed to be momentarily speechless by his question because there was an awkward, uncomfortable pause for a long moment. Draco sniggered loudly and turned away to leave, but before doing so, his mom’s voice echoed in the room again.

“Love is only a matte-“ she took her last try to argue, her tone rather desperate.

“I don’t care!” he yawped, turning the knob and slamming the door behind him with a violent bang.

Draco headed over to search for a bar where he could abreact the minute-ago conversation. The tension of his body was unbearably upsetting, and his heart was pounding aggressively in his rib cage. His fists clutched tightly, knuckles becoming white and teeth clenched.

Fuck his parents.

Fuck them with their shitty ideas.

When would be a time for him to be able to determine his own opinions about matters in his life? Or rather, the doubt is - would there ever be that time?

Before he knew it, he found himself in this same lobby where he had been an hour ago. As he walked over to the recently encountered receptionist, he spotted her writing something vigorously on an odd, square box. As to not arise any suspicion, he decided to act casually and hide his enticing interest in this particular... object.

Soon enough, you noticed the blond-haired boy and realized it was the man from earlier. A bump formed in your throat, and you fought a sudden urge to run away. Instead, you just set your phone aside and lifted yourself up, all your muscles refusing to do this same activity for the thousandth time this day (‘Is this some kind of aerobic or what?!’).

“Is there something I could help with, sir?” you asked with a smile, trying to remain calm, which was an exceptionally intractable task in this boy’s presence. Maybe as an effect of tiredness, it was hard for you to compose, but you did not like it a bit.

“Yes, actually.” At least he took his best effort to be polite. Although a horrible exasperation, as if something pained him, still convulsed his features. “I wondered if there was a place where I could have some Firewhisky or so?”

‘Firewhisky?’ you thought. ‘Is it some kind of British dainty?’

“Well, for sure I haven’t heard of heating up Whisky before,” you joked, attempting to lighten things up. However, his glare gave you a hint he was definitely not put in a mood for such things.“But there is a pub where you could have a drink, sir. It’s on the opposite street, so all you need to do is to cross over a road.”

Draco nodded. "Oh, and one more thing." He reached over to the inner pocket of his sable jacket and took out an ornamental envelope with an old-fashioned red seal on the top of it. "If the woman who I was with before starts looking after me, hand her over this letter, could you?"

You didn't know where an uninvited rush of interest hailed from, but the mystery-insatiate part of your brain screamed out at you to play along with his cards to winkle out more information. "What if she asks me questions? Shoul-"

"Bend the truth. I only ask you to do one thing for me. Don't reveal to her where or when I went. I gave you the envelope and disappeared out of your sight. Understood, muggle?"

You didn't grasp the last part of his sentence; the one concerning --mugel? meagul? megull? -- but you could bet it meant to be an insult. Swallowing your suspicious hunch, you put on a sympathetic smile. "Sure can do, sir. Hope you have a good night out."

"Thanks. Later." And without any other word, he strode away.

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butterbeeryuta · 5 years ago

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the ikea guy

ikea employee!yangyang x uni student!reader | oneshot series | fluff, CRACK| 1.9 k

Fuck Kim Doyoung. Fuck his boyfriend. Fuck the weak ass tv rack you bought. Fuck the human’s Id taking control over people. Fuck humanity.

The last thing you wanted to see was your roommate and his boyfriend, who were both barely clothed by the way, trying to fix the already broken tv rack you bought 2 years ago when you moved out of the dorms to a new apartment 8 minutes away from your university. Short story short, the two men were busy doing their shit— which you honestly did not mind since you yourself bring home some guys to, you know, have fun with. But what you could not understand was why they had to do in your living room, against the tv rack. All you could remember was screaming at Doyoung, while Taeyong was there apologising, but you knew that the little devil was internally laughing, finding the entire situation hilarious. Your roommate, on the other hand, was not giving a shit about what you were saying, which was normal for the two of you. Ever since he moved in with you in your second year, both of you had an interesting relationship. Despite your arguments with one another and ‘uncaringness,’ assuming that is a word, the two of you still looked after another. A month or so ago, Doyoung kept you up all night since he was busy having a little drinking party in his room, and his friends were loud. Especially that Jaehyun guy; his laugh alone could honestly wake up the entire neighbourhood. Then again, Doyoung’s laugh is pretty ugly too considering he literally laughs like, ‘ha ha ha ha ha ha.’ I swear, you love Doyoung. Anyways, Doyoung nicely mailed all of your professors the next day that you were feeling unwell, allowing you to stay in and sleep a bit more. Except, he told you about it while you were rushing to the door to run to your lessons. You two were interesting.

Eventually, Doyoung apologised and gave you the money to purchase a better tv rack. You were expecting him to buy it for you, then again, he was Kim fucking Doyoung. He just ain’t like that. So here you were, at motherfucking Ikea. Every child’s nightmare, including yours. Your aim was to find the cheapest tv rack, yet still pretty good in quality. You were not the type to give a damn about the aesthetics and things; if it’s going to help you store your shit, that’s all you needed. Which is probably why you hated furniture shopping, you could never appreciate the so-called ‘beauty’ of it. Following the arrows printed on the grey floor, buying the tv rack was more complex than you thought. There was black, white, yellow, brown, wooden, grey— more colours than you could have ever imagined. You honestly just wanted the cheapest one at this point, forget quality. Everything else was giving you a headache. Without wanting to use more of your brain cells, perhaps for now, socialising will make it less painful, even if you really hated people as of this moment. Looking around for a person wearing the yellow and blue striped shirt with a name tag on, you eventually found the person you were looking for. Not too tall, but he wasn’t short either. Well, at least he won’t be intimidating.

‘Um, excuse me—‘

‘Ma’am the hotdogs and ice cream are available after you purchase your materials at the cashier.’

What. What the fuck?

‘What?’ The guy turned to look towards you, unamused with whatever you currently had to say. Your eyes slightly widened by his appearance, but you swear to your kneecaps if he remains to be like this, you’re going to bite.

‘You’re looking for the food right? Just pay for whatever stuff you have now and—‘

‘Why the hell would I want to buy food here, I just want to know the cheapest tv rack you have in this store’ you interrupted, not willing to hear any of his bullshit, despite him having a pretty face. Now it was his turn to be taken back by what you said. Goodness, how long has this imbecile been working here?

‘Oh um… yeah I don’t know. Maybe if you’ll look around you’ll know?’ Oh you’ve got to be kidding. Not wanting to waste more time on this pretty idiot, you looked at his name-tag to tell off to another Ikea employee. You were not having it today. See you later Yangyang.

—————————————————————————————————

Okay. Apparently people who work in this nightmare of a furniture store take their shit seriously. You just went to another person to complain about Yangyang, and here you are, at the manager’s office. Literally, what the fuck.

‘I would like to apologise on his behalf again, he’s new here. He does not know what exactly he is doing, but I can assure you the rest of the staff here are kind and willing to help. I sincerely apologise that you had to experience such unacceptable behaviour from our staff’ the manager said, bowing his head for the nth time. You honestly wanted to leave and just purchase the tv rack online; you wanted that Ikea guy to not be a dick— that’s why you complained. What you didn’t want is the poor guy to be fired from his job.

‘No, no, please don’t worry. I’m pretty sure he is a good natured person, probably just had a bad day—‘

‘No, that is utter nonsense! We will get this settled now. Please take a seat Ms. ________’ he said, moving his rather puffy face towards the black microphone, pressing the green button with his stubby fingers. Oh no.

‘Liu Yangyang please come to Mr. Park Yoobin’s office. Liu Yangyang please come to Mr. Park Yoobin’s office, now.’ What have I done.

—————————————————————————————————

You were annoyed that you put yourself into this mess. But the guy beside you, if looks could kill, you would have probably woken up in hell by now. You felt bad, you didn’t want this to happen at all. Like you said, you just complained about Yangyang being ‘not helpful’ when you asked him a question to another man that was slightly shorter than you. You expected no reaction at all, you just did it cause you were in a bad mood thanks to Doyoung and his boyfriend. That was of course, until the older man gasped loudly, shocked to hear the words that came out of your mouth. Today was a really bad day.

‘Mr. Liu, I know that this is your second week working here, but that gives no excuse to treat a lovely customer like Ms. ________ poorly. Even if you didn’t know where a certain furniture piece is, you could have made the effort to look for it with her.’ Mr. Park said, his eyebrows furrowing even more as he spoke. It was quite a funny sight from where you were sitting. Then again, this was not a funny situation, you hated every minute of it because not only is it wasting your time, but you could possibly be the reason why this Ikea guy will lose his job.

Yangyang felt pretty guilty for assuming in an instance that you were wanting to ask for food, when you actually had a pretty genuine question. He also felt useless for not helping you effectively, but he didn’t want this job at all. He wanted to work at the cafe near his university, instead of travelling for another 30 minutes just to be in the corner and see people search for furniture to build their so-called ‘dream home.’ Although he did not exactly have anything against an aesthetic appeal or such, he did judge people like that. And little did he know, so were you. Then again, he didn’t exactly care about that at this point. He wanted to stay away from you as soon as possible for putting him in such a position. He already felt bad for not helping you properly, and maybe he somewhat understood why he was sitting in the manager’s office, but literally, what the fuck.

‘Mr. Park, I honestly did not mean to show such disrespect to the customer. I do admit that I was being a know-it-all, thinking that she— what’s your name again?’ He asks me, actually talking to me for the first time since he walked into the room.

‘Um, ________—‘

‘Ms. ________ wanted to go to the food court. And as you said, I have only been here for 2 weeks. I am still unsure of where certain things are, and I perhaps should have helped Ms. ________, so yes, I do sincerely apologise.’ My, my, was he good at saying bullshit.

‘Mr. Liu I appreciate your honesty, and you should really be grateful for Ms. ________ for being so kind, wanting to make sure that nothing happens to you’ the man in front of you said, both his hands interlocking one another as he looks at his employee. And although you were looking at Mr. Park, you certainly did not miss the widening of Yangyang’s eyes. He must be thinking that I was a hypocritical psycho bitch. He isn’t wrong with that at all though.

‘Um, Mr. Park. If you really want to make it up for me, I just really need the tv rack. My roommate is paying for it, so considering that, it really urgent for me to go soon. I’m sure Yangyang was just having a bad day, so please, give the boy a second chance.’ You began packing your things, eventually standing up, not wanting to hear any more rebuttals from the Ikea manager. You had enough.

‘Ms. ________ hold on—‘ And you closed the door. Fucking rat, why couldn’t he leave me alone and deal with his employee privately?

—————————————————————————————————

You finally got the cheapest tv rack available from Ikea, completely contradicting yourself earlier when you said you would’ve rather shopped online. With the amount of cash Doyoung gave you, Ikea was probably a better choice.

‘Hey, you!’ What the fuck?

You turned around, and of course, it was the Ikea guy, but he wasn’t wearing his uniform. And he looked so much more attractive, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it. With his dyed hair swept to the side and his oversized knit turtle neck, he looked so much… softer and calmer. Well that contrasted with his character. You crossed your arms, waiting for the man to come closer.

‘What was that about? Look, I know I didn’t help you and I do feel quite guilty about it, but was it really that necessary to—‘

‘Before you act like a dick again, I didn’t want it to happen either. I’m a petty ass person, and though it wasn’t mandatory to tell on you, which I’m sorry for by the way, you annoyed me despite how pretty you look. I’m pretty sure you still have your job, and I got my tv rack. So let’s just forget all of this happened, and move on with our petty lives— are you okay? Did I say something wrong’ Why is he looking at me like that? He just smiled at me, tilting his head slightly, and it’s making you feel warm for some reason.

‘Well since you said that we both live petty lives, and called me pretty so thank you for that, let me take this—‘ he says, tearing the tv rack box open, grabbing one of the rack’s legs, which only made you stand in complete astonishment; what the mcfucking hell was he doing? ‘—and well, somehow find me babe!’ Yangyang shouts, walking away from you quicker and quicker.

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, AND RETURN MY FUCKING LEG!’

‘By the way, I also think you look pretty!’ He’s worse than Kim Doyoung. He is actually so much worse than Kim Doyoung.

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nutty1005 · 5 years ago

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Period Dramas – An Analysis on Xiao Zhan's Character Portrayal Part 1

This is a series of short articles by the same author which will be a 6 part analysis on Xiao Zhan’s various roles.

Part 1.1 – Wei Wuxian

Part 1.2 – Wei Wuxian

Part 1.3 – Wei Wuxian

Part 2.1 – Yan Bingyun

Part 3.1 – Period Dramas

Part 3.2 – Period Dramas

Original Article: https://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404475300028219446 Original Author: 诗债累累

We frequently read about actors being so good that they meld into the role and become unrecognizable, and these performances showcased the actor’s ability to differentiate their roles and produce unique features. To the actor, this is also a mission of highest importance: to complete a performance with his creativity and imagination, and imprint an unique touch to his roles – “I acted this”.

Although this is not some technical jargon, this brings forth some curious questions from the audiences:

How did the actor enter his role to create a vivid, living and realistic character?

How did the actor forget his own personality?

How did the actor create his roles such that they are unique?

One of the common methods used in training acting:

“When you are portraying a character, it is like you finding an astonishing item, and then you run into a house full of people, but now you have to explain to them this incident with your back facing them.”

Perhaps you may find this requirement strange, but to the actor, after being asked to portray a specific scene in several different manners, to reposition themselves multiple times to match the camera angle – sometimes it seemed as though you are facing your partner, but due to camera positioning, you were actually positioned facing away.

So, how do you portray the character?

We would have to start with the relationship between the actor and the character.

For easy understanding, I have tabulated Xiao Zhan’s main roles thus far, using their character features in the drama as the basis, since “Jade Dynasty” was only the first portion of the novel, and might have adaptation differences.

This is something that all of us can consider – while the emotions for Beitang Moran and Yan Bingyun were both restrained, what differences were there? What are the differences between Wei Wuxian’s teasing and sharp words, and Zhang Xiaofan’s simple and straightforwardness? From the tragic story lines of both Wei Wuxian and Zhang Xiaofan, what were their differences when they were seeking their own deaths?

(1) An actor does not create a character —- The first layer comes from the completeness of a character

A character is actually created by the script writer, then the director. If the drama is adapted from a novel, it is first created by the author, then the script writer and then finally the director.

When the actor receives the role, it is, in fact, an already processed piece of work, and this piece of work contains his lines, his basic emotions and actions (usually written by the script writer), how the positioning of the character is like, and how he is supposed to interact with his partner (usually written by the director).

As such, the first thing the actor needs to do is to clearly understand his performance mission, understand the actions which the character needs to do, and the purpose of the character. Using the actions and the purpose, discover the main story, such that he will be able to sustain the performance regardless of the retakes, and also aid him in clearing his thoughts quickly.

Based on the above explanation, we could say that the performance missions for Beitang Moran, Wei Wuxian, Yan Bingyun and Zhang Xiaofan were complete.

Example: Beitang Moran and Wei Wuxian

(1) Beitang Moran

Background: Regent with military power Action: To create resistance and difficulties for the protagonist Purpose: To improve the eventual ruler

This character was the nation’s second highest in power. He honed the Emperor’s ruling skills, and also honed his own. He knew that the nation was their home and while he was given great power, he wanted to return the power back to the Emperor once he had mature. This set Moran apart from the other court officials.

Besides Xiao Zhan’s looks, this character was attractive because of the sense of power. This power came from the political power as well as the strength of the character. The underlying line was “Everyone desires peace, if you are not worthy, I will take over”.

With this in mind, Xiao Zhan’s portrayal included a hidden sense of pressure, a sense of gravity that contrasted greatly with the general comical script. This quickly added charm to the character, and he also adjusted his vocal tone higher in consideration that this was a web drama (hence more lighthearted) and the age range of the target audience (teenagers), the direction was more haughty than noble.

If this character was written in a serious political drama, and 40 year old Xiao Zhan redid this character again, he would have gone for a deeper vocal range, portrayed nobility and regalness, and added more gravity to the role.

(2) Wei Wuxian (during Guanyin Temple)

Background: Self reconciled, moved on Action: To understand the truth, to rescue everyone Purpose: To save everyone’s lives (it was not important for Jin Guangyao to die, nor to understand the mystery behind Jin Guangyao’s actions) Additional Surprise: To discover the ridiculous reasons behind his demise

The scene at Guanyin Temple was the most complex, as there were many characters joining the scene one by one, escalating the incident with every step:

Discovering the truth behind the Sword Spirit

Unveiling the truth behind Qiong Qi Path – the turning point of Wei Wuxian’s life

Understanding Jin Guangyao’s background

After every step, the Wei Wuxian’s stance and attitude kept changing. When facing every other participant of the scene, he had to show different details to convey their relationship. This was one of Xiao Zhan’s most complex scene, with each unveiling of the truth, every interaction and attitude with other characters had to be adjusted.

To Jin Guangyao:

He was at a disadvantage, hence trying to buy time and discover his opponent’s weakness

He was in shock, after understanding that his demise was based on nothing but unreasonable and unprovoked malice and hatred

To Jiang Cheng:

He discovered that the truth about the Golden Core was made known

He had to comfort Jiang Cheng

At the same time, he was released from the burden of hiding the truth

To Jin Ling:

He had to rescuing him

He released himself from the guilt of accidentally killing Jin Zixuan, but also knew that he had an indirect relation to it

To Lan Wangji:

He realised that the truth about the Golden Core was made known

He felt that there was no need to hide the truth anymore

To Lan Xize (Zewu Jun):

He studied his interactions to understand his attitude, since he and Jin Guangyao were close friends

To Su Minshan:

He understood why he rather be Jin Guangyao’s lap dog

He understood why he would set him up.

The completeness of the scene was done extremely well, with high concentration of lines and interactions between different characters. The emotional flow and attitude changes after discovering each piece of truth was clean and smooth. The emotions went from anxiety to anguish (for one self) to resolution, interlaced with psychological and physical fights.

(2) An actor needs to add his own touch to the character —- The second layer comes from the special touches he adds to the character, besides what was scripted

There was once a great drama teacher once said, even though everyone acts a character in the same way, you should still try to twist your thumb differently.

Here, we will use the example of Zhang Xiaofan to see how the performance of a classic character is created. (TN: Jade Dynasty is a very popular classic fantasy novel.)

Zhang Xiaofan had quite a few scenes where he had to act without props, such as the scene with the Water Dragon, as well as the stick that is not there.

Action: To counter his lack of progress in skills by cooking and cleaning, or taking on the blame for his fellow disciples Purpose: To repay his benefactor sect (and to court his Shijie)

Xiaofan was a character that was easy to have performance ideas: to portray the kindness and innocence of the character, with optimism and open-mindedness. As compared with his other characters, he made the following adjustments:

He changed the way he smiled, by raising his head, and to openly smile by showing his teeth.

He added a lot of miscellaneous movements, such as scratching his head, wiping his hands and touching his face.

And we summarize his performance points below:

To animals:

He treated all creatures equally – he treated everyone the same, regardless of person, monkey, Water Dragon, or dog

To Shijie:

He had puppy love, immediate facial expressions upon seeing her

He always wiped his hands before holding her hands

He felt he was Jilted (he thought his Shijie liked him too), and ran to the mountain top to shout his thoughts out

To vengeance:

Although he kept saying that he did not have the ability to do anything, the thought always remained in his heart. The moment he found out the truth about his village, plus he had gained enough power to take revenge, he did not stop his hand

To truth:

He wished for his own death, fragile but sincere, after his dreams were shattered, it was all just his ill fate, and he was defeated by it.

After all of these designs, Zhang Xiaofan became someone that was more relatable, with blood and soul in the earlier part of the movie, and contrasted greatly with the latter part when he fell to evil, and this contrast elevated the tragedy.

Conclusion

Actors are like a sponge for emotions, a machine for rationality. They have to be absorb all emotions but yet memorize these emotions and actions rationally, in order to repeat endlessly.

In contemporary works, a common theory used is “emotional memory”, to let the actors use their own past experiences and emotions to directly or indirectly apply on their character, and understand how the performance is generated.

During these type of performances, the weight of the role hinges on the actor himself. For example, in “The Most Beautiful Performance” where Xiao Zhan acted in the short clip “Buying Ears”, because Xiao Zhan was brought up by his grandmother, he was able to apply that emotion when he acted the role of a hearing impaired deliveryman calling his grandmother (who was also hearing impaired). Or in “Family Rules”, where his lifelike performance of getting beaten up by his father, was probably also inferred from his real life – in his People Magazine interview, he spoke about how his parents would take turns in disciplining him.

Life experiences are a valuable treasure trove to actors, as they contain living material. The more living material there are, the better and faster it is for actors to be able to find the right emotional experience. As such, realistic material + lifelike performance + relatable experiences will have an advantage in reaching his audiences.

In the current day and age where scripts are often from the fantasy genre, the characters abandon realism, experience great ups and downs, have beyond human capabilities – these roles will need to move the weight from the actor to the character. Actors need to participate in the creation of the character, simply drawing from their life experiences will not be enough, and thus attempt to discover how the character felt. With more experiences, their treasure trove will contain more living material, and will be able to inject realism in their characters.

#xiao zhan #sean xiao #xiaozhan #肖战

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foreheadtouch · 5 years ago

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i don’t want your memory. (i want you here with me).

Why do you want to learn Russian? With that question I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed.

*3k words of pure angst*

———

It was an eerily frigid January night—black and silent—like drifting out in the middle of space. People doing everything in their power to escape it. The wind chill burned against my cheeks and the freezing air seemed to shrink my lungs to the size of lemons. Each breath I drew was sharp and labored.

Inside Hobie’s apartment wasn’t much better. My blood felt hot and thick underneath my skin—the heat was turned up slightly too high, so as to make me sweat underneath the itchy sweater that I couldn’t take off, because then of course, I'd be cold again.

The sky was deep and dark and not a single star was visible. I felt that if I stared too long, its vastness would swallow me whole. Only the bright white headlights of whirring cars seeped through the window and bounced across the walls of my bedroom in a series of dizzying flashes.

I sat on my bed with a half empty bottle of vodka, feeling claustrophobic in an empty room.

The heat made me hyperaware of any nagging discomfort that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Every itch and ache was pulled out of me, like a magnet with scraps of metal.

I tried readjusting the neckline of my wool sweater, but it would not stop scratching and clawing against my skin, almost choking me. Had it somehow gotten tighter during the day? Why couldn’t I breathe?

I was just drunk enough that my movements were sloppy and my fingertips felt slightly numb.

I looked over at my desk, where a brand new copy of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot was resting, the lamp shining directly on it, like an ironic spotlight, and I felt the walls close in on me.

I didn’t want to, but I thought back to the conversation I had that afternoon.

It happened in the campus bookstore. Dozens of hasty university students were furiously barreling through the narrow passageways between shelves filled with books like Guide to Financial Markets, Plato’s The Symposium, Multivariable Calculus Volume 1, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

How was your break? Did you get the classes you wanted? Oh, I’m actually working at this bank. Doing research in this laboratory.

Their obnoxiously eager attitudes and bright eyes bore a sharp contrast to my own. I couldn’t remember the last night I had gone to bed sober. My eyes were sunken and glassy. Plum-colored patches formed under them and had not gone away. My skin had developed a grayish, sickly looking tinge that caused Hobie to insist I take a multivitamin in the morning. And how many days in a row had I worn this sweater?

I moved, begrudgingly, against the grain of the crowd, and slumped through the shelves while people forcefully shoved against my shoulder and scoffed at me under their breath for going the wrong way. But who cared what these crappy trust-fund kids and pompous brainiacs thought of me. I drowned out their complaints and dragged my fingers across the spines of the books, until I had successfully collected all the necessary novels for the upcoming term.

“Wow! That’s a lot of Dostoevsky! Let me guess… Based on your reading list I’d say… Intro to Russian Lit and… maybe Conversational Russian with Professor Khachanov?” the bubbly girl at the checkout asked as she scanned my stack of books. I wasn’t expecting her to actually pay attention to them.

I wondered how many espresso shots went into her morning coffee or if she was this energetic naturally. She seemed like the kind of girl who kept her customer service smile on 24/7. I could not bring myself to muster up enough energy to match her excitement.

“You guessed it.” I replied with a stiff, lifeless smile and apparently, less enthusiasm than she had hoped for, judging by the little twist her mouth did. She began transferring the books into an ugly canvas tote bag with the university logo on it that I knew cost extra money. I didn’t ask for it, but I also didn’t care enough to tell her to stop, so i just watched her silently and adjusted my glasses.

I thought my curt reply would signal that I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she started up again: “You now, that’s not very common. I see a lot of Slavic Studies and International Relations students take Conversational Russian, but not English majors. You guys usually just take Intro to Russian Lit. Why do you want to learn Russian? Is your family Russian or something?” She stuck her hand out for my student ID card.

Immediately after she stopped speaking, my palms grew sweaty and my pulse thumped throughout my body and I felt its rhythm pound in my ears. My mouth went dry and I felt a lump form in my throat. I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the store glared and pierced my brain.

I cleared my throat, which felt like sandpaper, unable to force any words out, so I stood there, like a dumbstruck idiot, blank-faced and silent, for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally I managed to stammer, “I uh, I want to be able to read the original translations. At some point, I guess.”

With my head down, avoiding eye contact, I quickly snatched the receipt from the girl, shoved it into the canvas bag, and hurried out the door. God, she probably thinks I’m a psycho. But it didn’t matter. I desperately needed to get away from there. Away from that question.

Now, hours later, in my stuffy bedroom, I sat confronted with my crime, suffocated by the truth. Why had I really signed up for conversational Russian?

———

It was the same reason I found myself buying the cheap brand of vodka that we used to drink together, even though I could afford better stuff now. It tasted like jet fuel and burned my throat, but it was familiar and reminded me of the countless, blurry days we spent in a state of drunken stupor.

It was the same reason that on my way home, I would hesitate and then walk to the gas station around the corner for a pack of Marlboros, even though Hobie had taught me how to hand roll my own cigarettes. “They’re much better this way, Theo. It’s all about the craft. About paying attention.” And it was true, they were better, way better actually, but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t want better, I wanted him.

It was the same reason I took the subway down to Brighton Beach and the Lower East Side on weekends and wandered through the Russian neighborhoods, pretending like I was meant to be there. Because maybe, just maybe I was.

It was the same reason I would lie down with Popchik on my chest and close my eyes, feeling the weight against my lungs as I inhaled and imagined the warmth of him pressed up next to me, boney arm draped over me, holding me.

It was the same reason I curled up in bed at night with my earphones in—the Velvet Underground’s entire discography lulling me to sleep. Except for “I Found a Reason.” I recognized it by the first note and would immediately skip it. I couldn’t listen to it.

The habit we had of maintaining a constant level of drunkenness and snorting whatever we could find up our noses had unfortunately stuck with me. When I removed myself from my own depressing turmoil and looked at my life like a stranger would, I knew it was a problem. Without me realizing, it had spiraled from being a vice to a legitimate addiction.

But I didn’t have a reason to stop.

I tried so hard to forget him. I really did. Every time that feeling started to creep up, to gnaw at me, I would try to press it as far down as it could go. I would crumple it up into a tiny ball and throw it far far away. I would hold it underwater until it hung limp and lifeless.

I had no choice, because if I let it linger, just for one moment, it would consume me entirely.

It was a dull ache that never went away. The sting of tears welling up in my eyes. A lump in my throat. A knot in my stomach. Weak knees, like right before you’re about to faint. Heartache.

Sometimes he would come to me in a dream or in a nauseating, intoxicated hallucination. It was like looking at a reflection of him on water or through a mirror. It was almost real and I could have pretended he was there until, looking at him wasn’t enough and I greedily reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the water around my hand would ripple in expanding orbits and he would vanish.

We existed on two different planes now. I was here, doomed to live in this reality, where at one point, we had faced the disorder of life together, but now he was reduced to a figment of my imagination, a cursed dream, a memory of what once was.

And so that night, I gave in. I surrendered.

While I stared at that book, I let the memories wash over me with a force like a wave, crashing violently against a cliff. The rock I was grabbing onto crumbled beneath my finers and I was ripped away from my pretense of safety and pulled back into the sea—back to Las Vegas. Back to Boris.

———

“Potter. You can’t ask me to read to you and then just… fall asleep.” Boris said, through laughter, as he flicked my head.

My dad and Xandra had gotten into a big fight. It wasn’t their usual bickering about him watching too much football and not paying enough attention to her. Or about her staying out too late after work with friends and forgetting to make him dinner.

I couldn’t quite make sense of the full argument, or even remember why they started yelling. From the broken shouts, I figured out that my dad had lost a lot of money. And he had used some of Xandra’s? Or was about to? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that when Boris and I came home that night, there was a dent in the drywall of our living room and they were shouting. Judging by the accumulation of beer bottles on the coffee table, my dad had been drinking. A lot. They hadn’t even noticed us walk in.

We grabbed Popchik, who was a shaking mess in the corner of the kitchen, and we went back to Boris’. His dad was away on “special business.” I knew enough by then not to question it.

“Is great, actually,” Boris said, “when he is gone, he leaves money. 30 bucks this time.” He looked at me with his wide, dark eyes, sparkling with childlike excitement, as if we had just won the lottery.

We got started on our usual routine when we had extra money. Getting fucking blasted and buying cigarettes and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

We were passing a cigarette back and forth in his bedroom, sitting shoulder to shoulder, faces inches apart. Boris was slouched next to me, in silence, but a comfortable silence.

The air was charged with something electric that I couldn’t find a word for. I turned my head and traced his profile with my eyes. I didn’t realize how long I had been staring, but when he slowly turned and looked up at me, softly, my stomach jolted.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting upright, still maintaining his gaze. I liked how he could read me so well. It was a mark of how close we had gotten, how we moved in and out of each other’s minds with little effort.

“Yeah. I think I’m too wasted” I said, looking away abruptly and taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it to him, our fingers brushing, as he took it from me and brought it up to his lips.

“Stay here, Potter. I have great idea. You’ll love this, promise. Will cheer you up right away.” He got up quickly and handed the cigarette back to me.

“Where the fuck would I go?” I laughed and watched him slip into a room down the hallway.

He came back smiling and holding something behind his back.

“Please don’t tell me that’s more vodka.”

“Is not vodka. Guess again.”

“Boris, I have no fucking clue.”

He rolled his eyes and held out a thick book. The title was in Russian but fortunately, it was one of the words Boris had taught me. Идиот.

I was a little confused. What did this mean. Where was he going with this. I scrunched up my nose and said, “I don’t know enough Russian to read a whole novel.”

He sat down next to me and shoved me a little.

“No, идиот. I read. You listen.”

So I did. I slid down the wall and rested my head in his lap. Boris put one arm over mine, held the book in his other hand, and began to read the opening chapter.

I always appreciated how he was so forthright and unapologetic with his movements. He didn’t hesitate when resting his hand on mine. Or playing with my hair. Or stroking my arm.

He didn’t leave room for me to resist, not that I wanted to, although my first instinct was usually to pull away.

“This book. My favorite.” He started reading: “В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу…”

I couldn’t understand a single word, but I didn’t care. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Russian. The way his mouth shaped the letters was firmer and smoother in Russian than in English—it was sultry, almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and felt the soft vibrations of his voice wash over me.

I also liked the way I felt in his arms. Safe, cared for, loved, even.

———

That was, after all, why I signed up for Conversational Russian. Because of Boris. Because I might not ever see him again, and the thought of that was too unbearable, so I did everything in my power to feel close to him. To stay connected to him in some way. Any way.

Because I was in love with Boris but somehow I had lost him, caught up in the tangled tragedy that was my life.

I didn’t know if it was for good, but how would I ever find him in this great big world? It had been years since I last saw him and months since I last heard from him.

One day, I realized his face was becoming fragmented. I tried to construct and image of what he might look like now, like I was collecting scraps of torn up newspapers and piecing them together with glue.

Dark wavey hair against translucent ivory skin, a sharp contrast like an old film photograph taken in black and white. I could see the blue and purple veins underneath his skin. I could see his ribs poking out. I remembered his striking but soft eyes, always filled with a glimmer of curiosity—an inextinguishable thirst for life and all its excitement. The way they could communicate thousand of phrases in just one glance. His full lips that were often chapped and bleeding. But I miss them. The way the felt against my own that night. And the many nights before.

The image of the fourteen year old Boris I knew would forever be seared into my memory, in the way cattle were branded with molten hot metal. But what was he like now?

Sometimes I would pull out my old phone and read back through our conversations, then close my phone, and hold it over my chest while tried to hold in tears and catch my breath.

Other times I would look up at the moon and wonder where in the world he was. And if he ever looked up at the moon and thought of me.

Did Boris think of me? Did Boris miss me? Was Boris breaking apart and tearing up inside too?

Oh, the countless nights I would type out long messages with no intention of ever sending them. Are you okay? Where are you? I miss you.

I knew what loss felt like. That’s wasn’t unknown to me. I had lost my mother. For good. But the thing about Boris is that I didn’t know if it was for good. And that small chance is what was killing me and eating me away, but it was also the only thing keeping me alive. Because there was still a chance and I wanted to believe in it. I needed to. Things fall apart. But things come together too. But how many times? Had our time come and gone?

Maybe I would go the rest of his life wondering what could have been. That would be a death sentence I was sure of it. Because it was torture not knowing.

How would I ever be able to know peace when there was that small chance—that infinitely small chance we could meet again.

I wanted so badly to get a text one day from an unknown number. Potter. Is me.

I wanted to shout across the world. Here I am. Here I am. I won’t ever stop looking for you. I love you.

So I would continue hoping. I would keep going to Brighton Beach. I would keep searching the ends of the earth, forever.

But as for now, I had to learn how be content with the memory of him.

#the goldfinch #boreo #theo x boris #my writing

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rightsaidmanfred · 5 years ago

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i’m having them biracial blues and this is 100% a rant about my life written in some weird ass...i dont know man, i got up in my feelings and it’s hardly coherent but

gif credit, cuz i couldn't get it in the actual gif adder thing

i dont think ill ever forget schoolyard taunts about my thick, black body hair. or that my eyes were demonic because if the light didn’t shine just right, they could almost be black. or that my eyebrows were too big and oh they can see a little bit of hair connecting between them. i never forgot when the girls who were supposed to be my friends started calling me broccoli nose because it’s wider than theirs, you see. or when the boy i had a crush on and a boy who’d always been my friend decided that instead of friend, i should be their yard workers or maids or harvesting their food but its funny ha ha cuz that’s what mexicans do! i wont forget that my hair was boring and why is there so much of it? why is it frizzy? “because i dont have that problem!” said the girl with strawberry hair. and the color! black, but just shy of the inkiness that is beautiful.

i won’t forget that my skin was brown or that the little girl i ran into at toys-r-us, excited and chatty because she’s a friend i thought, walked away with her mother berating “you didn’t tell me she was mexican!” as i stand next to my red-haired, light skinned cousin. i wont forget that no one could say my name proper and it was never worth the effort to try and it didn’t matter if they’d known me for years because it was too foreign on their tongue and it didn’t matter. but heaven forbid i didnt properly pronounce theirs because “its not that hard!!!!” it’s only hard when its attached to someone like me, right? even when it comes from europeans just the same, forced onto my people like the blood of theirs in my veins as a result of their violence.

i’ll never forget thinking my abuser of seven years was so beautiful, right to the very end. i wont forget being eight years old and fighting against fear every time i saw her but going all the same because she was all golden hair and ocean eyes and certainly that means shes good. even as she tells me to shave my hands, my stomach, get rid of the nasty hair that makes me look like an ape. even as she tells me my mouth is too big, my lips look like they’ve been stung. i suppose we are taught, then, from youth to see beauty in our aggressors. for how lucky we are, just to be in their presence. i felt that, in some obscure way. desperately and with all of my being i felt that and hoped and prayed and wished that i could be her.

that i could look like her. it was all i wanted, to look like her because maybe then the world would look at me and see something pretty. something worthy of love. beautiful, and good in all the ways i was told - even without words - that i couldnt be. something worthwhile.

i wanted to look like the mom who raised me. the one i wanted to be perfect for even when she never asked me to be, never even implied it. because to her, i already was. she always told me i was beautiful. braided my hair and kissed my cheek and told me all the things i got from my family that lived across the country, some still in mexico, and why it was such a beautiful thing. do you know what it’s like, that the person who sees you as a treasure is the one no one would ever connect you to? to go out with your mom and your two friends, and people are shocked to hear that youre her child and not the blue eyed blondes? even with her brown hair and hazel eyes and no features to share besides, it was more believable that they were her daughters rather than you.

their only similarity being the color of their skin and yet the message is clear even if you can’t articulate it: you couldn’t possibly be from her, someone who belongs to the group that sets the standard for beauty and worthiness.

that wasn’t me, brown skinned and dark haired and with every feature that runs strong in my papa’s family. my tia said it herself, when i was born. “oh julie, im so sorry. she has the family nose” because she knew, too. my beautiful tia who has no need for shame and she knew that my moms whiteness couldn’t protect me because their features showed full force in me, left no place for my mom’s family to show itself.

i wont forget that the world told me from day one that i was less than. i would always be less than. it’s awful funny, that i lost my love of the outdoors when i first heard that it darkened you. no more summer days spent in the pool, fingers pruning but refusing to get out. no more bike rides, gone in the morning and returned by dinner. no more outdoors karaoke or baton twirling in the driveway. the tree i once loved is abandoned and the branches i’d climbed till i couldn’t any longer grow weak and lonely with time, missing the child who’d settle in and fall asleep in its branches. the warmth of the sun was something i deprived myself of for years with only the wishes of lightening my skin, getting rid of just one of the many things that separated me from everything i thought i should be.

but i found that it didn’t matter how pale i became. because, you see, it’s not a lightness that indicates whiteness. its an “i havent seen sunlight in a year” kind, one that doesn’t fool many and never for long. and how could it? my name would betray my heritage even if my features didn’t.

at twenty-eight, i still havent recovered. i havent learned how to live under the sun again. i havent learned to rediscover that kid that would wait for the weekend and the adventures it’d bring, step outside my door and into the sunlight and stay there in the world, under the heat of the sun until it started retreat into the night.

i wont forget that all expectations of me were based around what i looked like, what they saw in my name. how surprising it was, that i might know things. how unexpected it was, that i understood anything. after all, how could i deign to perform better than some of the other girls, the ones that were expected to go places when it was quite clear where most people expected me to end up.

it didn’t take long, for anger to show itself because it was easier to show that than shame, sadness. it’s strange, that at twelve, a black girl calling me a “white bitch” was offensive for the first part rather than the last. white...white....the thing i wanted to be and yet i was angry when she called me that. angry even if i didnt understand why, at the time. but i do now. i understand the fury in my bones at that moment when she pushed me and i swung back, a kid noted for being quiet and well behaved because i couldnt believe that she saw that.

that because i was not darker then my struggle did not matter. that because i did not look like her, then my disadvantage didn’t exist. the one thing id yearned to be a part of felt like a fist to the gut to be sided with because...i wasn’t. it was the first time i realized that maybe there wasn’t a place for me. that i’d be doomed to be too white for all the people who could empathize with my struggles and too brown for all the people who’d been a source of them.

and it only got worse when people would thing, for appearance, that it was better. but its not a compliment to be fifteen and having a guy hit on you because he “likes them spicy” wink-wink, nudge-nudge. it’s not a compliment when someone wants you to be his spicy hot tamale. even when the things that were detriments about me aged into something desirable, it was twisted and tainted and never felt like anything close to acceptance.

and then....and then to get out of all of it, all those moments that tore me down and made me ashamed to be who i am and realize the beauty in my features, in my wide nose and big lips and dark hair all over my body. to learn to love these features that mark me as part of a people with a history so rich and roots so deep into the soil of this continent...to learn these things and fight against all those ideas and people who ever made me feel otherwise and then be told that it is not my place. that it isn’t true, what i said. that i am pale and so that means i am white and i don’t know racism because my mom is white.

it’s a unique thing, to be biracial, and i dont think people talk about that enough. one foot in one history, the other in another. both but not enough for either to accept you. and i know that truth, too. i remember family gatherings with my moms family. i remember feeling always like my brother and i were julie’s little mistakes. oh sure the words were not spoken but in a sea of white people who married white people and had white children...the contrast makes you aware.

aware that you are not a fit. aware that they will love you only if you never bring up your papa, never bring up the aggression against you simply for existing as a product of love and understanding between people from such different worlds. little whispers about your papa that you wont understand for years as your mom shakes her head no, no, he’s a good man because her love has never gone. changed, perhaps, from what it was. but steadfast and true. they criticize him for his drug problem but she tells of a man who always took responsibility for his failings, always admitted his wrongs, never harmed a hair on our heads.

a good man who is sick but a good man nonetheless.

both, but never fully one or the other. and they let you know that, too. even the ones you’d thought all your life were the few that accepted you fully. but then you argue, you fight to defend your people against the new husband of a cousin you loved so much. the anger...the anger feels like a heart about to explode because it isn’t all anger. its fear and sadness and hurt and the anger is what you grasp onto, inflate as you stand shaking to take a breath, get distance before a panic attack has set in. you do that a lot in life.

and you hate crying but you sit on the front porch doing it anyways. your mom knows better than to follow but your aunts dont. so they come and they talk and they try to ask whats upsetting because well we were talking politics, people don’t always agree.and you scream, voice breaking “he’s talking about my people!” because how could you have ever identified with whiteness? but you don’t find understanding or comfort. only your favorite aunt, the one you loved for so many years, the one you thought accepted you no matter what, says with just as much passion: “we’re your people!”

and you realize, in your mid-twenties after a lifetime of being mistaken, that the acceptance is only if you throw away a part of yourself. that only if you will forget your mexican half do you matter. that they would prefer to forget you’re not white because how can they possibly love you if you arent?

it’s a lonely thing, too. because your papa is sick and he did not do right by you in the all right ways. and you spend your childhood missing him, wanting to live with him because living with mom is too painful if that’s what it will be like. but it bitters, too. childish ignorance cant last forever and for years you are angry, furious, refusing to see his sickness as that and instead as a choice he made.

he chose to leave you. to stay with a woman who looks like him, to create a child who belongs. one who learns his native language and gets all that you dont. the good and the bad. it....hurts, that the first words your little brother says to you are in a language you cant understand because your father...he lived far away for so long and where else could you learn when your mom can’t speak it, either? he’s three and spanish will be his first language and age will bring anger that this is so when your attempts through your life just never seem to work.

you just cant seem to make the words right. they feel wrong on your tongue and youre sure it’d make anyone who knows the language laugh.

people often dont get why i am offended by being called white. because well, im not, for one. sure, my skin is pale but my features are not those of a white person. to reduce it to that is so offensive when my experience has been lived as a person of color. it’s rare that people assume i’m white. and yea, it makes me mad when they do.

because i haven’t benefited from whiteness. i have never been treated as it. ive noticed people treat me poorly by my name alone, before they’ve even seen me. my MOTHER has noticed this. she kept my fathers name and she’s told me before appointments made at new places, she is often regarded more rudely but when she shows up and they see her whiteness, it changes.

for me, though, the biggest indicator is that other mexicans seem to....know. its a blessing and a curse. its adorable when little mexican kids come up to me, start trying to say something in spanish. it makes me feel this...wanting. to be a part of that culture, to learn more that i havent been able to because im across the world from everyone who was meant to connect me to it. but it hurts, too, because its another realization of my defect.

that i am a part of them, but only partly. and not everyone is so kind. some will see my distance from my heritage as sign enough that im not a part of it at all.

this...really got away from me and honestly, i dont even feel like ive really scratched the surface. this wasn’t meant to be a “poor me” but to be honest.....just because people have it worse than i do, and i KNOW they do, doesn’t make my suffering less significant.

so much in my life i have been told my people of color that i cant say anything and i have no right to it and this and that and whatever because my skin is pale. some try to make me say im white passing if i must engage but you know what...fuck that

if i was white passing, this post wouldn’t exist.

#personal #man this got away fromme aklfhjlakdjfkajh #LEGIT LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN #it was borne of a post i was gonna make about something i noticed about my writing and then it segued into me having emotions #look i dont talk about like....this a whole lot #basically cuz ive been shamed into not talking about it lmao #i dont expect this to be read cuz its yanno mostly for me but #its...nice if you do?#idk how to explain this but if you read this post i just wanna say like...thanks for caring enough about what i have to say to read it #that means a lot #i feel like the contents of this would be obvious but lmao #racism cw #abuse cw #uhhh idk what else #i dont think im missing anything

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aligharib · 5 years ago

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Kanye West. The minor notice of the man's name invokes an abundance of pictures and affiliations. There is the mic-grabbing episode that excited countless rural tweens against him. At that point there are the hissy fits at the notice of the Taylor Swift calamity, the precious stone teeth, and the Twitter upheavals. In any case, to just consider the id-driven, immature pieces of Yeezy is to miss quite a bit of his actual virtuoso. For somebody so apparently self-retained, he has composed with astonishing clearness about the loss of his mom, excruciating breakups, and his own weaknesses.

In the same way as other rappers, Kanye incorporates a gesture to his Lamborghini Murcielago in "Dim Fantasy", the main track on his new collection. In any case, in contrast to most rappers, Kanye's comprehends that his prominent utilization is mentally greater than just needing a decent car. As he raps in "All Falls Down", "...it appears we living the American Dream, yet the individuals most noteworthy up got the least confidence." As much as some might want to, it is a gross rearrangements to compose Kanye off as another libertine crybaby.

Mr. West's eagerly awaited collection, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy dropped yesterday to unimaginably positive audits. The famously bombastic commentators at Pitchfork gave the collection a 10.0; the writeup loaded up with the kind of short of breath, clearing acclaim you'd all the more normally get notification from a multi year old's audit of the most recent Harry Potter establishment. Adding my own voice to that tune, I truly accept this collection to be Kanye's (embed your concept of most noteworthy collection ever here).

Things being what they are, how could it be that Kanye at the same time pulls in and repulses us so instinctively? I accept that Kanye is just a (superior dressed) hyperbolic image for the self importance and weakness we as a whole encounter in some capacity. What's more, in light of the fact that that is the situation, there are a few things we can gain from him, that we can apply to better our work lives.

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Profitable Insecurity - I am a firm adherent that uncertainty is the engine that drives Kanye's persistent journey for flawlessness and rehash. For the entirety of his showy talk, he never appears to be content with what he has created, and keeps on rethinking in what seems, by all accounts, to be a push to calm his own self-question. We as a whole have uncertainties, the inquiry is, what are we doing with them? Freud called this sublimation - or the way toward having despondencies serve a "higher social or socially valuable reason, as in the production of craftsmanship or innovations." Say what you will about Kanye's methods, yet the finishes are undeniably high caliber.

Helplessness - I know, I know, Kanye can likewise be unequivocally immune, yet it his snapshots of severely genuine self-reflection that keep us returning. In a type where bombast and swagger are above all else, it is telling that the individual standing out is happy with letting individuals inside his head every now and then. It is anything but difficult to attract equals to the business world, which can likewise over depend on the façade of conviction. In any case, remember that ongoing exploration recommends that enthusiastic knowledge (some portion of which is mindfulness) is profoundly prescient of advancement. In the event that you can share without oversharing, you're going the correct way.

Individual Branding - Love him or loathe him, it is difficult to deny that Kanye has worked admirably of making a drawing in persona and a solid individual brand. Kanye's image is style imagination, pretentious discourse, and a promise to flawlessness. Indeed, even those that disdain him remember him, and that issues in a business world invade with prêt a doorman suits and MBA-talk. On the off chance that you can't condense your own image as comprehensively and compactly as I did Kanye's, you have some work to do.

I'm not recommending that Kanye is a good example in the customary sense, and I'm positively not upholding for hissy fits or the abuse of lovable nation artists. Allows simply recall that we're every one of the a befuddling amalgam of vainglory and self-question, and that can lead us to make some excellent music.

Dr. Daniel Crosby is an authorized therapist and President of Crosby Performance Consulting (CPC). CPC is a boutique authoritative and initiative improvement counseling firm giving world-class ability arrangements including pre-work evaluation, group building, preparing, 360 input, and official training. Moreover, Dr. Crosby and his group of specialists give counsel around anticipating and forming human conduct in an assortment of settings including deals, authoritative change the board, and purchaser conduct.

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evangelineartemiasamos · 6 years ago

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do you mind elaborating on why you are anti bri/jame? no worries if you don't want to talk about it. i myself first read their riverlands arc as a redemption arc for J and an internal honor arc for both of them rather than a romantic one, then i saw that a lot of people shipped it. so i'm always interested in seeing why people have stronger opinions on the ship (both pro and anti) than i do. - maxine

Don’t worry, this is fine. Indeed, I’d like to talk about them, so thanks for asking.

Note that my opinions are based on when I read the books 7 years ago, so a) my memories are bound to be vague, and b) I never gave the show version of them a shipping chance.

My foremost reason why I don’t ship them is because Jaime treats Brienne like shit. He insults her aloud and in his head and I don’t abide this kind of bullying, least of all the concept of from bully to lover. No bullying victim deserves this, and I think only someone who wasn’t bullied can imagine not only to forgive a bully, but also to fall in love with them. But that’s just me. I don’t think a bullying victim can ever fully trust their bully (again) which is necessary for love. It’s hard for bullying victims to trust people in general, and Jaime cuts into the very same wounds Brienne already had to deal with for years. So it’s good that he changes, but that is only basic human decency, not romance. I mean, look at Tormund in the show. He admires Brienne from the start and supports her. I don’t remember for sure if his behaviour is always appropriate (ID, whether his behaviour borders on sexual harassment), but his affection is what I think someone like Brienne needs. So this is why I couldn’t see Jaime and Brienne in a romantic light from the start.

Another point, which is somewhat different to the first, is that I think their morals are incompatible. Their contrast is well-written and was a good idea for the story and character development, but I see it mostly as this: a plot device. I like how Jaime and Brienne display different aspects of chivalry to explore its meaning and, in my opinion, to undermine it. Jaime is seen as the perfect knight because he comes from the right family, has the right job, great fighting skills and looks good. But all of these traits are shallow and have nothing to with chivalry and moral behaviour or with Jaime as a person, who is indifferent, self-serving, biased, weak-willed, ruthless and living in an adulterous, incestuous (and traitorous) relationship. And while he is praised for his superficially “good” traits, he is reviled for the one thing he did out of convinction it was the morally right deed for the greater good - killing Aerys. I find him very interesting for this, because he embodies so well the main message of moral ambiguity in ASOIAF. Jaime follows his own opinions, but the problem is that he has so few. He could be willing to subvert Westerosi conventions if he cared enough and dared to act, but like everyone else, he is still bound by rules too. Or rather he lets himself be ruled and manipulated by Cersei and Tywin as he’s too coward to really go his own way and rather remains in toxic relationships. But as the story progresses, the image the reader can make of him is quite fluid because he has a lot of potential that is used in the story. And then, not only our image of him changes, but also Jaime himself.

Brienne, on the other hand, behaves according to the actual chivalric code and is willing to follow it no matter what. She doesn’t let herself be stopped by conventions saying no to her and for that, she faces a huge amount of backlash. Brienne is how a knight should be, but society doesn’t accept her because she doesn’t fit the perfect, superficial image like Jaime (for being female in a misogynistic world). You might think that is admirable, and in a way, I agree. But it also means that Brienne behaves in a very dogmatic way, refusing many ways act right from the start because she can’t unite them with her naive dream of ideal chivalry. It doesn’t exist, and so Brienne fails. Often. The world throws rocks at her again and again and she hardly thinks of changing and adapting.

Chivalry is the most important thing to Brienne but it is also what harms her as society has lost and forgotten the meaning of chivalry. I can understand that she holds on to it to keep going, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like that. In my opinion, Martin is trying to say that chivalry is dead because it’s lost its meaning, so people have to find their own ways to do the right thing instead of clinging to something outlived. That idea appeals to me a lot, I have to admit. Brienne isn’t willing to reform her concept of chivalry although it’d would help her to protect herself. This might be my petty streak, but I would’ve respected someone more who realizes the flaws fo their beliefs and yet finds a method to integrate them into a more prolific way of life. Brienne’s behaviours irks me.

I think the dynamic of Sansa and Sandor deals with similar fallible assumptions of knighthood, but displays more nuance in the way Sansa reacts to her fracturing beliefs and learns from that.

I believe an appeal of Brienne and Jaime’s dynamic lies in changing him and less her. In a way, Jaime slowly learns to care for a stranger he starts with being as indifferent to as to nearly everyone else. That is pretty big for Jaime amd sparking his further development, but not a future romance (losing his hand also plays a role here of course, as it means that he too loses his perfect knight image and has to reevaluate how to embody knighthood). Brienne works as a role model he needed to change, but this development is unequal. IDK, I think their characters arcs are more about finding themselves instead of the other. So far as the books go, this dynamic doesn’t evolve. They’re two people who came to respect one another, nothing more. I don’t see him and Brienne suddenly walking down the romantic route together because they’re going in different ways. Of course, you might say they are going in similar ways because Jaime takes Brienne’s chivalry to heart, but that doesn’t erase all the shit he has done. He’ll have to face the consequences without hiding behind his family and his image and I don’t believe Brienne will follow there. She might listen, but I rather see her as his (fair) judge than someone who falls for him despite everything.

And all in all, I hate the sheer heteronormativeness of the ship. “Oh, we have a woman and man going through a quest and many dangers together and while they quarrle and get to know and grow fond of each other, so surely it has to mean they’ll fall in love!!” Eww, no thanks. As I elaborated above, Jaime merely learns not to be an arrogant ass and to treat someone who isn’t part of his esteemed disgusting family with decency and respect. Furthermore, Jaime isn’t even ready to be in another romantic relationship because while he doesn’t know how he feels for Cersei, he does know that he still feels too close to her. When I read the books, I tried to ignore any hints there might be a romance between Brienne and Jaime, and that worked because their interaction is platonic and should be allowed to remain so. Being an anti is more about many in the fandom wanting to see them together while I can’t stand the idea.

#ask #a song of ice and fire #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #anti brienne x jaime #analysis #gosh i really needed a prompt to write this down finally^^°

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theliberaltony · 6 years ago

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Last week, we introduced a method for evaluating Democratic presidential contenders, which focused on their ability to build a coalition among key constituencies within the party. In particular, our method claims there are five essential groups of Democratic voters, which we describe as:

Party Loyalists, who are mostly older, lifelong Democrats who care about experience and electability.

The Left.

Millennials and Friends, who are young, cosmopolitan and social-media-savvy.

Black voters.

And Hispanic voters, who for some purposes can be grouped together with Asian voters.

The goal is for candidates to form a coalition consisting of at least three of the five groups.

I certainly wouldn’t claim that this is the only way to evaluate the field; rather, it’s part of what we hope will be a fairly broad toolkit of approaches that we’ll be applying as we cover the Democratic candidates at FiveThirtyEight over the course of the next 18(!!) months.1 Furthermore, in reality, the various ideological and demographic constituencies within the Democratic Party are more fluid than this analysis implies. Nonetheless, it has influenced my thinking — the coalition-building model has made me more skeptical about the chances for Bernie Sanders, Joe Biden and Amy Klobuchar, for instance, but more bullish about Kamala Harris, Beto O’Rourke and Cory Booker. In this article, I’ll go through a set of 10 leading contenders and map out their potential winning coalitions; we’ll tackle some of the long-shot candidates later on this week.

Let’s start with the man who has led most polls of the Democratic field so far, former Vice President Joe Biden. One lesson from the 2016 Republican primary might be to approach the polls with more humility. If a candidate is ahead in the polls for a sustained period of time — as Trump was for much of late 2015 and early 2016 — maybe we journalists ought to give a certain amount of credit to that, rather than just chalking it up to high name recognition or becoming overly wedded to some theory about how voters are “supposed” to behave.

With that said, there are some trouble signs for Biden. He performs worse among those voters who are paying the most attention to the primary, suggesting that his high name recognition compared to most other candidates is a significant factor in his lead.

And I’m not sure it’s going to be very easy for Biden to expand his coalition beyond the 25 percent or so that he’s getting in polls now. Presumably many of those voters are Party Loyalists, a group for whom he’s a good fit. Biden also has strong ratings among black voters, perhaps in part as a result of his being Barack Obama’s vice president — although his handling of the Anita Hill hearings and hawkish stance on criminal justice issues could give him problems among black voters if his record is subjected to greater scrutiny.

But where does Biden go after that? Could he gain support from The Left? Maybe a bit, but his dalliances with economic populism are more rhetorical than substantive; Biden’s voting record, and it’s a long one, is fairly centrist on economic policy. Could he win over Hispanic voters? Perhaps, as Hispanics sometimes back establishment-friendly nominees (like John Kerry in 2004), but Biden’s home state, Delaware, doesn’t have very many Hispanic voters (it has quite a few African-Americans, by contrast) and I’m less willing to give credit to a politician who hasn’t historically had to develop a relationship with a minority constituency. Still, a (Hillary) Clintonian constituency of Party Loyalists, black and Hispanic voters is probably Biden’s best bet.

When I originally conceived this article, I’d planned on splitting the Democratic electorate into three rather than five groups, which I’d roughly thought of as “white Hillary Democrats,” “white Bernie Democrats” and “nonwhite Democrats.” You can probably see why I abandoned that framework. One of the problems with it is that it groups blacks, Hispanics and other racial minorities together when (as in 2008) they sometimes gravitate toward different candidates.

But another problem is that what I had thought of as “white Bernie voters” is also really two different groups: Voters who belong to The Left and those who belong with the Millennials and Friends group. In 2016, Sanders got slightly more than 40 percent of the Democratic vote nationally, which corresponds to winning clear majorities of those two groups, plus making some inroads with younger black and Hispanic voters later on in the campaign. This year, he’s polling at a little less than 20 percent. The most obvious interpretation is that, while Sanders has held on to much of his support on The Left, millennials were mostly just looking for an alternative to Clinton, and they are now considering abandoning Sanders for younger, flashier alternatives such as Beto O’Rourke and Kamala Harris.

So how does Sanders form a winning coalition? He probably does need the millennials to return to his camp, which might happen if the field narrows and his major competition is, say, Joe Biden — but it would be trickier against a Beto or a Harris or a Cory Booker. (Hence the Beto-Bernie wars.) And finding a third coalition partner is even trickier. Party Loyalists are liable to be bitter over his treatment of Clinton in 2016 and over the fact that Sanders is not actually a Democrat. Even groups such as unions — important bridges between The Left and the establishment — have been hesitant to support Sanders’s candidacy.

As for black and Hispanic voters, maybe Sanders can hope that his weak performance among those groups in 2016 was more a matter of Clinton’s strengths than his own liabilities. Sanders’s favorability ratings are reasonably good among black and Hispanic voters, in fact. But a recent survey of influential women of color found very little support for Sanders — and in contrast to four years ago, he’s now running in a field that will likely contain a number of black and Hispanic candidates. Overall, Sanders looks like a candidate with a high floor but a low ceiling, and one who would probably benefit from the field remaining divided for as long as possible.

Warren has somewhat similar problems to Sanders, including having to build a relationship with black and Hispanic voters after being elected from an extremely white state — and having already made a misstep on issues of racial identity when she took a DNA test to “prove” she had Native American ancestry.

But she potentially has a higher ceiling because she’s more likely to win support from Party Loyalists, given that she’s a Democrat rather than an independent, and that she doesn’t have baggage from 2016. She’s also ever-so-slightly to Sanders’s right in a way that places her closer to the median Democratic voter.

The most likely winning coalition for Warren, in fact, probably involves the three predominately white groups: The Left, Party Loyalists and Millennials and Friends. (One of the things that helps her with millennials is that Warren has a bigger and better social media presence than you might assume.) Her path is tricky; she probably needs Sanders to founder. And that’s before getting into the gender dynamics surrounding her campaign and whether misogyny might hurt her chances. But she has a head start, having been the first of the big names to take official steps toward running and having hired key staffers in Iowa and elsewhere, which could give her more time to figure out a winning approach.

O’Rourke has one of the more obvious three-pronged coalitions: He’d hope to win on the basis of support from Millenials and Friends, Party Loyalists and Hispanics. The groups might support him for somewhat different reasons, and O’Rourke won’t win any of them without a fight, but he has a clearer path than the other Democrats we’ve mentioned so far.

O’Rourke really did help to motivate a surge in young voter turnout in his Texas Senate race last year; voters aged 18-29 were 16 percent of the electorate in 2018 as compared to 13 percent in the previous midterm in 2014. And overall turnout was up 80 percent as compared with 2014. O’Rourke won young voters overwhelmingly, whereas in 2014, Democratic nominee David Alameel had actually lost that group to Republican incumbent John Cornyn. O’Rourke also has one of the better social media presences among the Democratic contenders.

Meanwhile, the Democratic Party establishment has been encouraging O’Rourke to run, presumably because they see him as electable and potentially able to raise gargantuan sums of money for the party. Electability is a fuzzy concept, and one should be careful not to let “electable” become a synonym for “good-looking white guy” and vice versa. With that said, O’Rourke’s performance in Texas was quite strong relative to the partisanship of the state — even though he lost to Ted Cruz (by just under 3 percentage points), it was the best performance for a Democrat in a high-profile statewide Texas race in years. His policy views are a bit squishy, but that could also be an advantage of a sort — the same could be said of Obama in 2008 and Trump in 2016.

There’s liable to be a Big Discussion at some point about Beto’s authenticity among Hispanic voters. O’Rourke has a Hispanic nickname, Beto, but his given first name is Robert and he doesn’t actually have any Hispanic ancestry. With that said, he represented a district in El Paso that is almost 80 percent Hispanic, and he beat an incumbent Hispanic Democrat to first win the seat in 2012. He also won 64 percent of the Hispanic vote against Cruz (who is Cuban-American2), which is pretty good in a state where the Hispanic vote can be more conservative than in other parts of the country. (Alameel won just 47 percent of the Hispanic vote in 2014, by contrast.)

The candidate who looks best according to the coalition-building model is probably not O’Rourke, however. Instead, it’s California Sen. Kamala Harris, who potentially has strength with all five groups.

Harris, who is of mixed Jamaican (black) and Indian descent, was easily the top choice in the survey of influential women of color that I mentioned earlier. So while I don’t automatically want to assume that nonwhite candidates will necessarily win over voters who share their racial background — it took Obama some time to persuade African-Americans to vote for him in 2008 — Harris seems to be off to a pretty good head start. And her coalition not only includes black voters, but also potentially Asian and Hispanic voters. Harris did narrowly lose Hispanic voters to Sanchez, a Hispanic Democrat, in 2016 (while winning handily among Asian voters). But her approval ratings among Hispanic voters are high in California, a state where the group makes up around a third of the electorate.

If black voters and the Hispanic/Asian group constitute Harris’s first two building blocks, she’d then be able to decide which of the three remaining (predominately white) Democratic groups to target to complete her trifecta. And you could make the case for any of the three. Harris polls better among well-informed voters, which could suggest strength among Party Loyalists. She’s young-ish (54 years old) and has over 1 million Instagram followers, which implies potential strength among millennials. (And remember, Democratic millennials highly value racial diversity.) Harris’s worst group — despite a highly liberal, anti-Trump voting record — might actually be The Left, the whitest and most male group, from which she’s drawn occasional criticism for her decisions as a prosecutor and a district attorney.

Overall, however, this is a strong position for Harris. As Slate’s Jamelle Bouie points out, it may actually be a strategic advantage to be a black candidate in this Democratic primary in 2020.

If Harris rates strongly by this system, then it might follow that New Jersey Sen. Cory Booker, who is also black, would look strong as well. Indeed, Booker may be somewhat overlooked by the pundit class. He’s been pretty explicit about the fact that he’s eventually going to run for the nomination. And he scored strong favorability ratings in a recent survey of Iowa voters, although he isn’t yet many voters’ first choice.

With that said, there are a couple of areas in which Booker could fall a bit short of Harris. New Jersey doesn’t have as many Hispanic or Asian voters as California does (and Booker isn’t part Asian, as Harris is). And if The Left has some problems with Harris, it’s liable to have a lot of problems with Booker, who many leftists see as being too close to Wall Street and to big business. Winning on the basis of a coalition of black voters, Party Loyalists and Millennials and Friends is certainly plausible for Booker, but he doesn’t have quite as many options as Harris does.

As I said earlier, I don’t think this five-corners metric is the only way to judge the candidates. And there are other heuristics by which Klobuchar, the Minnesota senator, might better positioned. For instance, if Democrats are looking for a candidate who forms the best contrast to Trump, she has a pretty good case, as a woman from the Midwest who comes across as temperamentally moderate and without a lot of Trumpian bombast.

But I’m not quite sure how she builds a winning coalition. Klobuchar is potentially a near-perfect choice for Party Loyalists, who are liable to see her Midwestern moderation as being highly electable, especially after she won her Senate race by 24 percentage points last year in a state where Trump nearly defeated Clinton. Beyond that, though? Minnesota is a pretty white state, so Klobuchar doesn’t have a lot of practice at appealing to black, Hispanic or Asian voters. Her voting record is fairly moderate — she’s voted with Trump about twice as often as Booker has, for example — so she’s not an obvious fit for The Left. Millennials, perhaps? Her social media metrics so far are paltry — she has just 140,000 Twitter followers, for example — although (not totally unlike Warren) she has a goofy relatability that could translate well to Instagram and so on.

Klobuchar’s chances probably depend more on “The Party Decides” view of the primary than the more voter-centric vision I’ve presented here. In that view, party elites and Party Loyalists are leading indicators for how the rest of the party will eventually vote. One can imagine Klobuchar gaining traction if she performs well in Iowa, for instance. That’s a lot of “ifs,” however, whereas other candidates would seem to have more straightforward paths.

Another Midwestern senator, Ohio’s Sherrod Brown, in some ways has a more obvious route toward building a coalition. Like Klobuchar, he can make some good arguments about electability, having been elected three times in an increasingly red state, potentially making him an appealing choice to Party Loyalists. But he’s also a tried-and-true economic populist, who would be able to build alliances with The Left, and he’s reportedly a top choice among labor unions.

Where Brown might pick up the third group for his coalition is harder to say. Ohio has a reasonably large black vote, so he may be able to appeal to African-American voters. His limited social media presence and rumpled demeanor wouldn’t seem to make him a natural fit for millenials, although rumpledness didn’t stop Sanders from gaining traction with millennials four years ago. Domestic violence allegations against Brown, stemming from his divorce in 1986, have historically not moved the needle against him in his Ohio campaigns but could be a concern to younger voters, especially younger women, if they’re litigated on the national stage.

Gillibrand, who looks increasingly likely to run, sometimes gives the impression of having conducted an analysis like the one you’re reading in this article and taking a color-by-number approach to the Democratic primary. But it can come out a bit awkwardly. On the one hand, Gillibrand has the lowest Trump Score of any senator, meaning that she has opposed Trump more often than any other Democrat in the upper chamber. On the other hand, she once took relatively conservative stances on gun control, immigration and other issues when serving in Congress as a representative from upstate New York. On the one hand, she uses leftist and feminist terms such as “intersectional” to describe how she sees the future. On the other hand, she has ties to Wall Street (as many New York Democrats do).

Gillibrand’s most natural path might be to start with Party Loyalists and build out a coalition from there. But her calls for Sen. Al Franken to resign — issued after several women accused him of groping them — reportedly triggered a backlash among some donor-class Democrats, who [warning, editorial comment ahead] apparently don’t care how stupid they look for blaming a woman for a man’s #MeToo problems.

With all that said, Gillibrand potentially has a reasonably high ceiling. In New York state, she has high favorability ratings among nonwhite voters and an especially large gender gap in how voters view her. So if she isn’t getting a lot of buzz among white male Democratic pundits, you should be a little bit wary about concluding that the lack of buzz is representative of the broader Democratic coalition.

We’re getting toward the end of what you might consider the top couple of tiers of Democratic candidates. And I’m not quite sure whether to consider Castro, the former mayor of San Antonio and former Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, as one of the frontrunners or as more of a long-shot candidate. In the recent Selzer/Des Moines Register poll of Iowa, almost two-thirds of likely Democratic caucusgoers didn’t have an opinion about Castro either way. And neither his tenure as mayor nor his job as HUD Secretary necessarily required him to weigh in on the major issues of the day. So for better or worse, he’s starting out with a relatively blank slate and a malleable policy platform.

Castro does have the advantage of being potentially the only Hispanic candidate in the race. He’s a good speaker, having given the keynote address at the 2012 Democratic convention. And he’s been relatively explicit about his desire to run — he may even officially declare his intentions in the next few days. A coalition of Hispanics, Party Loyalists (if he can persuade party elites about the importance of the Hispanic vote) and Millenials and Friends might be Castro’s best option. As it happens, that’s also O’Rourke’s coalition, so the two Texans could represent a problem for one another.

There’s about an 80 percent chance that the Democratic nominee will be one of the 10 candidates I just mentioned, according to betting markets. Still, that does leave some room for a long shot, and there are literally dozens of other Democrats who are contemplating a presidential bid. There are also some candidates, such as Georgia’s Stacey Abrams, who don’t seem especially likely to run, but who could be formidable if they did. We’ll cover some of those other Democrats in “lightning round” fashion in a third and final installment of this series later this week.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Nate Silver

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