#learning about decade old drama

[ughgoaway]

i love learning about bollywood drama bc it's like a whole new level of gossip. I just watched a video about Nick Jonas' wife Priyanka Chopra having an affair with a man who is apparently the "brad pitt" of India, and it got her fully blacklisted from the whole bollywood industry??? crazy.

[jessiesjaded]

what

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Yvonne De Carlo (Frontier Gal, The Ten Commandments, Casbah)— Although most famous for playing Lily Munster in The Munsters, Yvonne De Carlo had a successful movie career throughout the 1940s and 1950s, appearing in such films as “The Ten Commandments”, “Sea Devils” and two Munster movies later in life.

Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)— "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasn’t glamour—she was just too sensible for that—it was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldn’t be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that she’d dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lips—'Setsuko’s eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that she’d died—I thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Yvonne de Carlo:

The woman who brought Burt Lancaster to his knees.

Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shūsaku Endō wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"

One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!

Linked gifset

Linked gifset 2

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920–2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays – frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile

Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

[drunkkenobi]

Today I’m thinking about three guys. Thinking about how they all had hands in creating concepts and videos that made the company they worked for famous. Thinking about how, despite that, they weren’t allowed to own what they created. Thinking about how their two biggest series were threatened to be taken away from them and given to more popular (whiter) hosts. Thinking about how they nearly burned out and faded away, but an idea lit a fire under them instead. Their own company, where they could have full creative control, where nothing could be taken away from them, where no one could tell them there wasn’t the editing budget for a show that was already written. Thinking about how they started it in secret, with no business knowledge. Thinking about how one of them took it upon himself to learn everything he could about running a business. How he knew it would mean putting his own creative pursuits on hold just to support his co-founders. How he did it anyway.

Thinking about how they announced their company to the world, with a shocking surprise. Thinking about how the world delivered its own shocking surprise back to them a few short months later in the form of a global pandemic. Thinking about how their company was almost strangled in its crib, how they thought it was DOA, how everything they worked so hard for was almost gone. Thinking of how, instead, it survived. Thinking of how they pivoted, how they threw everything they could at the wall, and while not everything stuck, the things that did kept them going. How they took every cent they made and put it back into the business by hiring fellow creatives and weirdos and investing in their future. Thinking of how they kept taking gambles, by taking the series that made two of them famous and making it their own. Thinking of how if that series had failed, it would have taken the company down with it and how they went for it anyway.

Thinking about how the CEO talked openly over the years about how he missed his old co-host, how hard it was to find that spark again. Thinking about how he focused on running the business instead of finding his own creative path. Thinking about how much thought he put into caring for their employees, how he put their well-being over churning out content, even if it meant less profit. How a work-life balance might not be in his wheelhouse, but how he wants it to be for the people that work for him.

Thinking about how the internet has changed in the decade since these three guys starting making videos for it. Thinking about how the algorithm values cheap drama over interesting stories. About how one wrong thumbnail or title can tank months’ worth of work. About how a misplaced swear can do the same, because the world is run by advertisers and not human beings. Thinking about how disheartening it must be to make a video to appease someone that would never watch it anyway. Thinking about how hard it would be to look at the numbers and realize the place that once was your space for success could now be home to your failure. Thinking about how much time they spent looking for a better alternative and how they ultimately realized there was only one.

Thinking about how delighted those three guys were once they had a plan. Thinking about the one of them who had finally reunited with his creative partners to start a new show, the one he’s been dreaming of for years, the one that’s been put on the backburner for the betterment of his company, finally able to exist. Thinking of the week of announcements, of the thousands of excited comments when this partnership was publicly declared. Thinking of how much joy was in the air, how much hard work was about to pay off. How their plans for months were about to come to fruition, how excited they were to take the fans on this next journey.

How they announced their new venture with a corkboard of fanart, showing it’s about them and us, together.

Thinking about how nearly everyone turned on them.

Thinking about how they walked back some of their plans to appease the loudest and the nastiest. Thinking about all the racist screeds their CEO had to read about himself. How he had to keep working despite it. How he and the rest of the company had to pivot immediately. How they had to know some of their contemporaries were also planning something similar and how none of them came to their defense. How they had to watch everything that they’ve worked so hard for become perilous. How a global pandemic was easier to weather than the cruelest words typed for everyone to see.

Thinking about how tomorrow, a new show will premiere. The one that’s been worked on in relative secret for so long and thought of even longer. The one that everyone was eagerly anticipating before they realized the people that make it need to eat, too. The one that everyone immediately mischaracterized to justify their own racism. The one that was supposed to be their big flagship series. The one that maybe still will be.

Tomorrow I’m hoping it will be the start of a new chapter. Hoping that the worst actors will get bored and move onto something else. Hoping that those who got the wrong impression will come back. Hoping that the show and its new home are a success and they get to make as much of it as they want, with no one to tell them how to do it.

I hope.

[lovebites-if]

DEMO (tba) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Tag(s): Slice of Life, Fantasy, Comedy, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based, Lighthearted. Inspired by The Office and What We Do In The Shadows.

Congratulations, human!

You have been chosen to join the extraordinary Creature Mediation Center (CMC), a unique workplace where all kinds of different monsters creatures collaborate to bridge the specieist gap in our society. As the newest and only human of our team, you'll navigate a world of diverse creatures, handling counseling sessions, managing projects, and making critical decisions to foster harmony between two worlds.

Welcome to a realm where diplomacy is a blend of corporate intrigue and fantastical diversity!

Customize your human MC's physical appearance, personality, age (25-35) and many more features.

Build relationships with diverse colleagues, each with unique personalities, backgrounds, and challenges. Strengthen alliances or face consequences based on your interactions.

Encounter a plethora of fantastical creatures, each with its own cultural nuances, habits, and communication styles. Learn to navigate this rich tapestry of diversity.

Juggle various projects aimed at fostering understanding and cooperation between monsters and humans. Successes and failures affect the overall atmosphere in the office.

Engage in crucial decision-making that impacts office dynamics, relationships, and the overall course of monster and human relations. Your choices influence the harmony or discord between both species. Good luck, human!

RO Intros • Choosing a route

Among the various members of your team, we present you the Monsters Working With the Human Division (MWHD) provisional name.

Naira/Namid (she/her or he/him) • THE WEREWOLF • 32 years old

Animated, bubbly and incredibly friendly, our beloved N brings an energetic and passionate, and lively spirit to the office. As a Werewolf, their empathetic nature makes them adept at counseling. They joined the office seeking a bridge between the worlds, hoping to dispel misconceptions about werewolves and foster understanding.

Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Val (she/her or he/him) • THE VAMPIRE • age undisclosed (200+)

Mysterious and meticulous, Val is the epitome of a centuries-old vampire. Their adherence to rules and structure contrasts with the unfortunate chaotic nature of the office. Val took on this role to observe and maintain order, ensuring the delicate balance between humans and monsters.

Slow-burn, (Val's) First love. It's possible to enter a poly relationship with N and Val.

Maureen/Marius (she/her or he/him) • THE GRIM REAPER • age undisclosed (300+)

Enigmatic yet compassionate, M retired from their reaping decades ago. They've been part of the office for a few years now, working almost exclusively with ghosts and their human relatives. M's unique perspective offers profound insights into life and afterlife.

Forbidden love, friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Devan (they/them) • THE ONI • 28 years old

Devan embodies the mischievous spirit of an Oni, their playful and curious personality makes them difficult to handle, yet very useful in dynamic environments. Their love for challenges drew them to the office, eager to tackle the complexities of monster and human relations.

Idiots in love, (possible) friends with benefits. Oblivious to love (Devan).

Lucian/Leah (he/him or she/her) • THE MERMAID • 25 years old

L's calm and observant personality brings a tranquil presence to the office. As a Mermaid, they contribute a unique perspective on the challenges of both land and sea. L joined to explore new horizons and bridge the gap between underwater and terrestrial life.

Rivals to lovers, (possible) rivals with benefits, pining (one-sided, mostly MC's).

Cyrus (he/him or she/her) • THE ZOMBIE • 30 years old

Cyrus defies zombie stereotypes. Their ability to empathize and understand others' emotions makes them an excellent counselor. Cyrus joined the office seeking redemption and a chance to demonstrate that even the undead can contribute positively to society.

Everyone can see it, Girl/Boy next door, Soft love.

??? (he/him or she/her) • ??? • ???

Are you sure about that?

Enemies to lovers. Red flag RO. “I can fix them.”

While we support, Human-Monster relationships, dating a coworker is prohibited. If you suspect anyone in your work environment of engaging in such behavior, contact your boss and supervisor Arion/Arianne (a proud gorgon).

We hope your time with us is fruitful, human.

[mjbarrosart]

I did a little fanart of all the Fontaine characters.

I am enjoining a lot this new region in Genshin. Sumeru was fine, but was not my cup of tea. Decadent French degenerates?? that is right on my alley!

Also the music of Fontaine RULES!

I'll share my opinions about every character, so...

SPOILERS FOR 4.1

_______________________________________

Charlotte: A missed opportunity to do something amazing with her as a journalist. She could be a character that makes interesting commentary about Fontaine injustices, but nah, she is just chasing "a big headline", zero interest for the truth.

Freminet: He is cute. I like him.

Lynette: I love her. I wish the game put her more in the spotlight, right now just feels like a prop for Lyney and that is a shame.

Lyney: He is fine. His outfit always makes me laugh.

Furina: My baby girl, the bane of my existence, my favorite Archon ever. We don't accept Furina slander in this household. I see her as an overwhelmed person who needs to put this all this show in order to keep feeding the Oratrice, while everyone is just taking her as incompetent without knowing what kind of sacrifices she is doing, idk, she is a really interesting Archon to me. I love the idea of her being cursed, and her interactions with Arlecchino made me really sad, I feel bad for her, she is not having a good time...I hope her story don't disappoint me, hahaha.

Neuvilette: Old man, autistic coded dragon for the win, I really like him. He is also a little of a drama queen with all this "I don't belong here" stuff while outside literally 90% of Fontaine is a member of the "we love Neuvillette fan club"

Wriothesley: He is fine. I like his interactions with Neuvilette and him as Clorinde's friend. My problem with him is this thing that Genshin likes to do of "is not the system that is bad just you need to be sure to have good people on the top" kind of discourse that is really bad. So him as a cop/jail administrator kinda is another missed opportunity to make a little more commentary, but maybe I'm asking for too much.

Sigewinne: I really like her after the Archon quest. Haha, you can not trust her. Lol.

Navia: I love this woman with all my heart. She is the best, smart, badass and beautiful. Also incredibly gay for Clorinde, I love their drama. I want more Navia content now!

Clorinde: I am a sword lesbian, so she is right on my alley. I like her serious but not stoic attitude, and how she turns into a wet cat in front of Navia, lol. I want to learn more about her. She is cool.

[queers-gambit]

House of the Dragon masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: HBO

Sands of Time

before his Bronzed Bitch, all he had was her. amongst the smoke of salt, sea, and war, Daemon gambles with more than he ever wanted.

word count: 5.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst 🥊 depiction of (canon-typical) physical violence or aggression ⚠️⏳ show spoilers and AU timeline 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

part two: The Battle Above the God's Eye

decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

word count: 5.5k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⏳ AU timeline ⚠️ spoilers 🙊 general language and warning content 🐍 toxic family 🥊 feuding families 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 🤍 fuck it - dragon!rider!reader [ not a Targaryen } 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Split in Two

the Targaryen Curse prevails.

word count: 2.8k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🍼 depictions of traumatic birth 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Blue Moon Wreckage

you don't consult your husband, Daemon, about taking in your orphaned baby brother and this causes conflict in your relationship.

word count: 4.3k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🥀 misogyny (old-fashion views on marriage) 🍼 talk of child abandonment ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🐍 toxic family 🍄 borderline toxic relationship 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Midnight Calls masterlist

( completed ) your Prince summons you, a married woman, to the Throne Room one evening. so ensues your lovestory.

total word count: 44.5k+ total story parts: 6

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍄 toxic relationship(s) 🐍 toxic family...? 🔏 barely edited 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing And Let Me Love You Anyway

you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

⚠️ mild show spoilers 🙊 general language and content warning 😵‍💫 wonky brain is wonky ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💔 angst 🔥 mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral) ⏳ technically AU timeline 1️⃣ written after season one

part one: read here word count: 5.6k+ part two: read here word count: 6.3k+

Not All That Glitters is Gold

during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

word count: 3.1k+

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 💔 mild angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⏳ AU timeline 💣 relationship angst 🔏 not edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Daddy Takes Care

in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

word count: 6.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🍑 named character ( daughter named Visenya ) 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍼 depiction of difficult pregnancy and symptoms by an author who's never been pregnant 🔏 not edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Bloodhounds

you and your husband have a different kind of foreplay that include disguises, sneaking out of the castle, and sometimes, fucking in an alleyway... Or two.

word count: 5.7k+

💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language and content warning 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Creepy Crawlies

Aemond and Helaena witness how deep your fear goes.

word count: 1.7k+

🕷 spiders 🙊 general language and content warning 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Mother Knows No Bounds

being Rhaenyra's daughter means taking on Alicent's generational anger, and one day, she takes it too far.

word count: 5.7k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💚 vilified!Alicent 💔 angst 🤮 depiction of physical illness 🐍 toxic family 🕊 depiction of lost pregnancy 💛 requires maturity and caution 1️⃣ written after season one

❗️ depictions of potentially triggering content - please read all warnings before continuing ❗️

read here

When Pride Married Prejudice series masterlist

she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

total word count: 97.1k+ total story parts: eight + two 2-part alternative endings

⚠️ book and show spoilers 🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warnings 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst 🎭 drama 🐍 toxic family 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression ⏳ AU timeline 😵‍💫 wonky brain go WONKY ✅ completed series 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles

your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.

-> modern AU

word count: 11.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 small angst 🧸 small fluff 🥰 romance 💦 smut 🦋 modern AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 🧃 implied character age-up (legal to drink) 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

You Might Think It's Foolish

meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. -> or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

word count: 3.1k+

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

-> modern AU

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 💣 relationship angst 🐝 stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 toxic family 🍄 toxic relationship...? 🦋 modern AU 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

-> soon to be merged into a developing series but will leave this version up. Lannister Reader will become Velaryon <-

word count: 5.5k+

🎭 drama 🐑 filler ⚠️ spoilers ⏳ small AU timeline 🐝 stand-alone 🙊 general language and content warning ☠️ character death 💛 requires maturity and caution 🩸 deranged characters / blood lust 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Confection Invention

how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

word count: 3.5k+

🧸 fluffy fluff fluff 🥰 small romance 💍 established relationship 🍒 author's favorite 🐝 stand alone 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

word count: 18.3k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥀 unrequited love 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💣 relationship angst 👯‍♀️ BFF trope 🍒 author's favorite 🐝 stand alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship 🥂 alcohol mentions 💛 requires maturity and caution 🚺 misogyny 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 🫠 depiction of self-destruction 🍑 character with given nickname ⏳ AU timeline 🦻 eavesdropping trope ❗️ single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure 🚹 men 2️⃣ written after season two 🔏 not edited

read here

The Black Dread series masterlist

after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war.

total word count: TBD total story parts: TBD

🍒 author's favorite 🔞 ALL characters aged 18+ ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning

-> TBC until writing concludes

read here

The Black Dread series masterlist

after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war.

total word count: TBD total story parts: TBD

🍒 author's favorite 🔞 ALL characters aged 18+ ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning

-> TBC until writing concludes

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[wttcsms]

a very old atsumu draft from 2021 that im afraid won't make it out the gdocs, but i reread it and realized how silly and light it was & maybe you guys will too!!!!

atsumu miya’s guide to escaping from the friend zone, atsumu miya x f!reader

third year au, enemies to lovers, shoujo manga vibes* features romcom elements, knowing each other since childhood, he falls first AND he falls the absolute hardest, getting together, miscommunication as a means to be comedic not for poorly manufactured drama/angst, lighthearted with a happy ending, no angst 1k written, est. ~10k when completed 

STEP ONE: ACTUALLY GET TO THE FRIEND ZONE FIRST

You’re in love with Atsumu Miya — you just don’t know it yet. 

At least, that’s what Atsumu claims as he speaks with his mouth full, bits of rice flying out of his mouth, leaving everyone in his immediate vicinity disgusted. 

“She doesn’t even know you exist, idiot.” Osamu doesn’t look amused as he pulls his bento box closer to himself, trying to avoid the hailstorm that is Atsumu’s half chewed grains of rice. 

“She does!” He’s awfully indignant when he replies, looking like he’s about to make a move to slap his brother but thinks better of it. As captain of the Inarizaki Boys’ Volleyball team, he has to learn to behave lest he lose the title altogether. 

“Wanting you dead isn’t the same thing as loving you,” Rintarou is quick to chime in, and the first and second years on the team snicker.

“It’s a work in progress.” Atsumu snaps, failing to mention that you loving him has been a ‘work in progress’ for the past decade and counting. 

(Not like he’s, you know, obsessively keeping track. Definitely not.) 

The two of you have been attending the same school since your elementary days. On the first day of class, your teacher made everyone hold hands with the person next to them, and a five year old Atsumu just so happened to be the person seated next to a five year old you. 

“This person is going to be your buddy for the rest of the school year!” Your teacher exclaimed, clapping her hands together and smiling too cheerfully for so early in the morning. 

Then, someone had exclaimed that boys had cooties, and every girl buddied with a boy immediately took back their hand, either on the brink of tears and dramatically turning up their nose in disgust. 

Atsumu likes to claim that this is where things went wrong (never minding the fact that you had been the only girl not to drop a boy’s hand), but what really started your dislike for him (that has since spiraled into his closest friends thinking you want their captain dead) happened in middle school. 

As fate would have it, you were seated in front of Atsumu for math. He had (still does) a bad habit of chewing gum as loudly and obnoxiously as possible (from your perspective, anyway; truthfully, Atsumu just lacks self-awareness). He made it hard to concentrate during lectures and tests, and midway through the year, you complained to your teacher. 

(“Why do you not want to be seated close to Mr. Miya, hmm?” Your teacher smiled at you, his tone light and teasing. “Is it because of a crush?” 

“Gross! No! I do not have a crush on Miya!” Your eyes were wide, and you were shaking your head. “He just gets on my nerves. He’s always stealing my pencils and smacking on gum and hiding my textbook-“ 

“You know, Miss [Surname], middle school boys are mean to girls they like. I’m afraid that my seating charts are always permanent, but even if they weren’t, I think I would make Mr. Miya very upset if I moved you.” 

“Who cares about that? He’s so annoying. Let him bother someone else!” 

“Ah, [Surname], class is only in session for a few more months. If it gets worse, then we’ll see to adjusting the seating arrangements. For now, let’s get you back to your desk and focused on these fractions.” Your math teacher doesn’t bother hiding a smile as he jokes with you. “You better be careful; he might yank your hair and think it’s a proper declaration of love.” 

Your math teacher never tells you that Atsumu spent two weeks of summer break cleaning this classroom to get seated next to you.) 

The complaining didn’t work, and you were still stuck in the same seat in front of Atsumu. Then, one day, while he was ignoring the teacher’s lecture and giving his attention to something more worthwhile (such as the back of your head), Atsumu noticed a spider crawling from your back and aiming upwards, towards your hair. He watched in morbid fascination as the spider made its way into your strands of hair, and he reacted quickly, not quite thinking things through. 

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled, forcing you to tilt back with a yelp, which then caused the entire class to turn and stare at the two of you. 

The spider was nowhere to be found, at least, but your teacher had to stop his lesson, shaking his head while he walked to the classroom phone. 

“Honestly, Mr. Miya, what goes on in your head?” The teacher sounded like he was holding back laughter as he dialed the principal’s office. 

Meanwhile, you straightened yourself out and turned to glare at Atsumu, who could only give you a sheepish grin in return. 

“Sorry,” he told you, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Ya should be thankin’ me—“ 

“Thanking you?” You practically yelled it out. “I should be beating you. What is your problem with me, Miya?” 

And that was the moment when Atsumu Miya realized that getting you to fall in love with him might be a bit of a struggle. 

But that was then, and this is how. Now, you’re both in your third year of high school. Now, Atsumu is the captain of a team that’s an absolute powerhouse. Now, Atsumu is a box blond and despite his harsh attitude, girls are still vying for his attention. 

He figures it’s only a matter of time before you come to your senses and join them. 

You never do, though, and now he’s stuck rethinking his master plan. His friends are no help whatsoever, and the school year is going to fly by if he’s not careful. He knows you’ve been accepted to Tokyo U, and he knows that he’s probably not heading to college — not when professional scouts are watching his games and have the power to sign him right after graduation. He’ll never have a chance to be this close to you ever again, and he has to act now. 

“Work in progress, my ass.” Rin snorts. “You’ll be lucky to even be her friend at this point.” 

Now, Atsumu doesn’t like to consider other people as geniuses, but he’ll settle for considering Rintarou his muse. All this time, Atsumu’s been trying to get you to love him, completely disregarding the fact that you have to like someone before that can happen. 

And people like their friends. For the most part. 

“Ya know what, Rin? You might actually have a point.” 

“There was no point. I was making fun of you. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, here’s actual advice: don’t.” No one on the team is particularly surprised when Atsumu doesn’t take that advice.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with Backstage (2024)

Jonathan Bailey is still marinating in his thoughts, andthey taste pretty sweet. Top notes of red wine, he says. 

These are busy times for the witty British heartthrob. He’s speaking over Zoom from Malta, where he’s filming the next “Jurassic World” installment. And two days prior, he received his first Emmy nomination for his supporting turn on Showtime’s “Fellow Travelers.” 

What’s lingering in Bailey’s mind after reaching such a huge milestone? “The nature of the story, and how that story’s come to be told,” he says of Ron Nyswaner’s limited series, a decades-spanning gay drama that’s chock-full of steamy sex scenes. For him, the Emmy nod is “an acknowledgment of [the show] meaning something much bigger.” 

The 36-year-old actor radiates humility and surges with pride for his collaborators; “Fellow Travelers” also picked up nominations for lead actor Matt Bomer and for Nyswaner’s writing. Bailey believes the fact that executive producer Robbie Rogers was able to get the project on television at all is a “brilliant signifier” of changing times. He feels lucky to have been the right person for the job. And after a couple of decades in the industry, the actor’s star is about to go supernova. 

Childhood stage work and gigs on 2000s teen TV shows led to roles on acclaimed series like ITV’s “Broadchurch” and Channel 4’s “Crashing.” He nabbed an Olivier in 2019 for his performance in Marianne Elliott’s West End revival of “Company.” Households on the other side of the Atlantic learned his name in 2020 when he courted lockdown audiences as Anthony, the strident head of the titular family on Netflix’s period-romance smash “Bridgerton.” 

Then came the game-changing “Fellow Travelers.” Bailey plays the idealistic Tim Laughlin, a closeted congressional staffer who pursues a clandestine relationship with another man amid the witch hunts of McCarthy-era Washington. The actor is keeping up that momentum in the coming months with part one of Jon M. Chu’s highly anticipated film adaptation of the Broadway musical “Wicked” (out Nov. 22), followed by the fourth “Jurassic World” in 2025. 

“Fellow Travelers” is a fitting inflection point for Bailey, considering it reflects aspects of his own gay identity. Tim’s story also illuminates a thread connecting the actor’s work, both in and out of character: always embracing the truth, shame be damned. 

Born in Wallingford, England, Bailey made a beeline for the arts as a kid when he began studying music and ballet. After getting a taste of performing at a young age, he secured an agent when he was a teenager. Even now, he feels the sense of joy and wonder he discovered in those early days. 

He chose not to attend drama school, instead throwing himself into professional theater, where he encountered the performance process in its most essential form. “You start with your own instincts, and then you share with others in the room in real time,” Bailey says. “You academically approach text, then you emotionally explore it. Then, you physically put it on its feet.”

Theater taught him to be observant. In rehearsals, he witnessed actors being brilliant and bold, but also making crucial mistakes. Weeks of rehearsing helped him learn how to spend time with a character as he watched his castmates play against type and expand themselves through performance. Those lessons both tested and encouraged him, and they’ve carried him throughout his career. 

Since then, Bailey has gotten the chance to see plenty of giants at work. He reverently discusses performing Stephen Sondheim’s music alongside Patti LuPone in “Company” and reciting Shakespeare opposite Ian McKellen in the Chichester Festival Theatre’s 2017 production of “King Lear.” 

His contemporaries also made for great teachers. He worked with Phoebe Waller-Bridge on “Crashing” and Michaela Coel on “Chewing Gum”—two certified television geniuses whose creative successes Bailey likens to the magnesium flame of a meteor. It’s an apt comparison—Waller-Bridge called him “a meteorite of fun” in a 2022 interview with GQ. (“I think I’ve always been quite naughty,” he says playfully.)

“There’s so much you take on via natural osmosis,” Bailey explains. “It’s what you watch and how you interpret things.”

For example, he thinks that every actor should see Sandy Dennis’ Oscar-winning turn as Honey in Mike Nichols’ 1966 film “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Her performance whet his curiosity about the craft: “She is so fluid. I mean, that might be the most exposing answer I’ve given about what my inner world is like.”

Bailey’s technique is rooted in music. He plays piano and clarinet, and he approaches acting like an instrument, too. When reading a script for the first time, he experiences his character’s arc as the phrases in a song. “The way my brain works is that I see the images of what they’re doing,” he says. “When I say ‘phrasing,’ it’s like, how you get from that image to this image.”

When he was playing the bottled-up Anthony on “Bridgerton,” Bailey found inspiration in songs by Echo and the Bunnymen and Nirvana. While filming “Fellow Travelers” in Toronto, he went on long walks while listening to expansive pop music to help him explore Tim, a character whose energy radiates outward.

Considering Bailey’s process plays like a song, connoisseurs of his work might notice a motif. Sam from “Crashing,” a party boy Bailey calls “a wild, untamed animal in a tiny little cage,” aggressively maintains a facade of heterosexuality while pining for his male housemate Fred (Amit Shah). On Season 2 of “Bridgerton,” Anthony locked himself into a prison of duty and a loveless engagement to avoid acknowledging his desire for the fiery Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley).

Tim of “Fellow Travelers” is the latest in a series of sharply drawn characters confronting the tension between their assigned roles and their personal truths. Viewers first meet a straitlaced rule-follower whose Catholic piety is only matched by his loyalty to the infamous Senator Joseph McCarthy. All that changes when he crosses paths with Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Bomer), a crystal-eyed, debonair State Department official. Their respective closets combust on contact, and they enter into a forbidden love affair just as McCarthy’s Lavender Scare has begun purging queer people from the halls of government.

Bailey’s interior work tends to be more emotional than cerebral, but he’s a generous conversation partner who’s always game to riff on the deep stuff. Whether it’s yearning, going against expectations, or facing high stakes, the phrasing is what draws him in. 

He finds a lot of gorgeous notes to play across the eight episodes of “Fellow Travelers” as the action moves from the 1950s to the ’80s, making pit stops along the way. While Hawk settles for a life of straight domesticity, Tim hurtles through a sexual and political awakening: The Beltway boy becomes an activist priest who refuses to diminish himself, especially when the AIDS crisis begins to rip his community apart.

Bailey loved being inside Tim’s head; in fact, the actor thinks of him as a hero. After experiencing the isolation of his secret relationship with Hawk, he opens himself up to the world: He comes out, moves to San Francisco, cobbles together a found family, and builds a life as his true self. 

“Ron Nyswaner has spoiled Matt and me for the operatic detail that existed between [our characters],” Bailey says, “and also with Tim’s political fervor: the truth and the honesty that he demands of himself and the world around him, and the grappling with anything that is an obstacle to his own and other’s happiness.”

You can’t talk about “Fellow Travelers” without discussing its rapturous sex scenes—and not only for titillation’s sake, though the kinky encounters between Tim and Hawk certainly call for smelling salts. These sequences gave Bailey the opportunity to commit authentic queer intimacy to the screen, which members of the LGBTQ+ community rarely come across as they search for ways to understand their identities. 

The trust between Bailey and Bomer informed everything they did onscreen. Before filming those scenes, the two actors talked through their approach at a café (Goldstruck Coffee on Cumberland Street in Toronto—a ribald little detail that still makes Bailey laugh). The filming itself was incredibly technical, and the actors worked with an intimacy coordinator on set. “We sort of hit the ground running, knowing exactly what was going to be required but also how to communicate throughout it,” Bailey says. “It felt immediately quite safe.”

He sensed an exciting opportunity to tell a story about transformative love amid the “wild, oppressive moment” of the Lavender Scare, dismissing any reservations about the explicit nature of the material. “Honestly, this is exactly why this show is going to be brilliant,” he remembers thinking.

The series’ milestone dramatic moments, with buttons still done up and no skin showing, carried that same sense of significance. No matter how much Tim grew over the course of his arc, Bailey says that his bond with Hawk remained an “extraordinary, material thing.”

This summer, the actor made a very Tim move when he founded the Shameless Fund, a charity that supports LGBTQ+ causes under the tagline: “Raising cash. Erasing shame.” The initiative grew directly out of his acting work—first inspired by the platform afforded to him by “Bridgerton” and further influenced by his experience on “Fellow Travelers.” 

Playing Tim—or, as Bailey puts it, spending “five months doing a dissertation on queer oppression and liberation”—catalyzed his thoughts about the people who created a world where such a show could even exist. “I think in ‘Fellow Travelers,’ it’s so clear what Tim wants,” he says. “But as the world around him develops, you realize there’s so much that he can’t have, but that he can help change.”

Bailey sees that progress playing out in the next generation. He has a small role on the upcoming third season of Netflix’s queer YA hit “Heartstopper” as a dreamy academic who’s the celebrity crush of the series’ protagonist, Charlie (Joe Locke). Based on creator Alice Oseman’s graphic novel series, the show has found a passionate following of young LGBTQ+ fans. 

When he watched “Heartstopper” for the first time, Bailey remembers wondering what it would have been like to see such representation on television when he was growing up. “I was so celebratory of it,” he says. “But it was obviously kind of a melancholic watch for people above a certain age, because it allowed them to grieve what they didn’t have.”

Having conquered the Regency and Cold War periods on the small screen, Bailey’s blockbuster era is imminent. He’s playing dashing love interest Fiyero in the “Wicked” films (based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel), singing and dancing alongside Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. It’s a perfect fit for the actor’s particular lens: “Musically and theatrically, I understand it massively.”

Since “Wicked” came with its own well-known songs to study, Bailey spent a lot of time with composer-lyricist Stephen Schwartz’s music in his ears rather than Kurt Cobain’s. He explored Fiyero’s interiority through the musical theater form itself: What does the act of singing express for him?

And for a character whose signature number is called “Dancing Through Life,” what metaphorical direction are his steps leading him in? 

Bailey sees Fiyero as part of the same club as Tim, Anthony, and Sam, as the heightened world of Oz sends him on a journey of radical transformation. “I think about where he starts and where he ends up; he’s literally a changed person,” the actor says. “I savored the arc over two films.” 

Next year, Bailey will become an action star in Gareth Edwards’ next installment of “Jurassic World” opposite Scarlett Johansson. Though details have yet to be announced, including the movie’s title, production is well underway; Bailey just finished filming in Thailand before shooting moved to Malta. A few days before we spoke, he was interacting with a fake blue-screen dinosaur (which is only a spoiler if you thought Hollywood has actually been cloning big reptiles this whole time).

But Bailey is still keeping his theater muscles toned. Next year, he’s starring as the titular monarch in Nicholas Hytner’s production of Shakespeare’s “Richard II” at London’s Bridge Theatre. “I have to go and sharpen up,” he says of returning to the stage. “You feel so sharp and dexterous at the end of a theater run—but also, you know, without a soul. Carcass levels of absolute exhaustion.”

Bailey lights up at the prospect of getting back onstage and experiencing the kinetic energy between the actors, crew, and director. He believes that the emotional and intellectual rigor of theater leads to a tight, specific piece of work. It’s an art form that requires continuous creation night after night.

This stamina comes in handy in front of a camera, too. “When you’re exhausted, you have to rely on technique,” he explains. “Technique does get you over the finish line, and you can deliver a performance that is honest and tell the story effectively and truthfully.” 

Until then—and until he’s back on set with those fake dinosaurs—he’s going to soak up that Emmy-nomination afterglow for a little while longer. 

“I’m actually going to go and have another glass of wine to celebrate,” he says.

Source

[esamastation]

Part fifty-three of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two

-

Though the concept is called unscientific, and certain aspects of it are actively being suppressed by Shinra Science Department… there's no denying that there's something inherently magical about Mako. After all, Mako is what makes Materia, and with Materia you can cast spells, and no matter how Professor Hojo tries to deny it, it's a fact, indeed, undeniable.

Materia makes magic. Mako makes Materia.

There is also the open secret, the myth, the legend - the unscientific nonsense, as they put it. The theory of Lifestream and Spirit Energy and the concept that when something dies, the energy of that thing and all it collected and produced in life returns to the Planet, to the great collection of all the other things that died before. The great Lifestream from which all living things come and to which all living things return.

Shinra has spent a lot of money and effort suppressing and erasing those old faiths and traditions from public consciousness, and the widely accepted theory nowadays is that Mako is more like Coal and Oil - it's a deposit just beneath the Planet's crust that formed over millennia and which can now be harnessed by people. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But most people, no matter how they deny it or denounce it, know better.

Go back just two generations, and Mako isn't even a thing. The stories about the Lifestream, on the other hand, are thousands of years old.

And Genesis believes them wholeheartedly.

Well. He believes that the old myths have a basis in reality, anyway.

"When you use Materia as much as I do, you learn the difference between knowledge, power, and knowledge that becomes power," he explains, leaning back against the gym windowsill and lifting the shining marble of Restore Materia high up. "Materia is knowledge made physical, made powerful. It is wisdom crystallised, immortalised - and still living, well past the time of its origins."

"As you say, sir," the Second Class SOLDIER, Lacier Meres, agrees without looking up. He's sitting on the bench press, not pressing anything - instead he's leafing through a printed brochure.

Genesis continues. "That knowledge comes from somewhere - and it predates Shinra and its machinery. Materia existed thousands of years before us, and it will outlast us by thousands more," he says, examining the Materia in his hand. "I have seen orbs of Materia so old they must've first formed when the Ancients still existed."

"Very mysterious indeed, sir," Lacier agrees distractedly, turning a page.

"And I have seen Natural Materia only a few decades old," Genesis adds, narrowing his eyes at his Materia as he holds it against the light. Evening sun makes the Materia glimmer and glow. "I have held in my hand Materia as it spawned a copy."

"A miraculous event by any reckoning."

Genesis casts the Second Class a look, slightly annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm for the subject. There's no one else around, either, to appreciate his soliloquy. It's late, and they're the last ones in, sadly. 

Even during all the drama going on, a slow week night remains a slow week night. The labs have closed for the day, the SOLDIER offices have closed for the day, and there are no theatre shows during week nights.

Genesis feels fit to fly at the walls with the need to talk, and there's no one to truly talk to, not about what he knows! It's unbearable.

"Do you know where the knowledge locked away in Materia comes from?" he presses on.

The Second Class shrugs. "The Ancients, sir?"

"The Ancients," Genesis repeats and lifts the Materia again. "So they say. But this Materia is young. It came from a production factory not a month ago. How is it then that the wisdom of the Ancients is in this Materia, when the Ancients have been dead for thousands of years?"

Lacier doesn't even bother answering, but Genesis doesn't care. He doesn't need an answer - he knows it.

The wisdom of the Ancients didn't just appear in the Materia when it was created. It existed before that, in the Mako that made it. 

There exists wisdom - no. There is knowledge in Mako. Knowledge of the Ancients, maybe. Knowledge of the dead, certainly. How much of that knowledge did it take to make a single orb of Materia? How much Mako was there in a single orb of Materia?

How much Mako was there in a single SOLDIER? More or less than in an orb of Materia? 

"Very good, sir," Lacier says vacantly.

Genesis is tempted to lob the Materia at his head. "I didn't say anything," he says cuttingly and shoves the Materia into his pocket. Then he hops down from the windowsill.

"That's very nice, sir - hey," Lacier complains as Genesis yanks the brochure from his hands. "I was reading that! Uh, sir."

"And what exactly is this to be more important than paying attention to those around you, hm?" Genesis asks and flips the brochure over to see the front page.

It has an oversaturated black and white picture of Sephiroth in the front - along with the word Sephiroth training session volume 1.

"What is this?" Genesis demands. It doesn't look like it's from the Science Department.

"Just something we Seconds put together, sir," Lacier says, looking half proud and half stubborn. "It's nothing much."

It's not a brochure. It's a combat tutorial, with photographs and written explanations, detailing a training session Sephiroth had given in excessive detail.

Genesis narrows his eyes and waves the leaflet in Lacier's face. "When was this?" he demands.

Lacier looks embarrassed, running a wide palm over his neck. "It was after the, uh. Incident? Sir."

"The incident. You mean when Sephiroth destroyed the training room and tried to kill Hojo?"

"Well, uh, yes."

Genesis arches a brow. "And when exactly between losing his mind and being carted out of Midgar did he have the time to give a training session?" According to Angeal, Sephiroth had been completely out of sorts and couldn't even stand under his own power afterward.

"It was pretty much during?" Lacier says, wincing. "He was kinda out of it still."

Genesis lowers the leaflet. "I am going to need you to explain," he says lowly. "Be very specific."

Lacier squirms but explains.

Apparently in the middle of his psychotic episode, Sephiroth was possessed by the spirit of a school teacher. "And not one of you thought to tell me this?"

"Well, sir, we… thought it would be best to keep it amongst ourselves," Lacier says awkwardly. "All of us agreed it wouldn't be good if… you know. It was pretty irregular."

"Irregular," Genesis scoffs and takes another look at the leaflet.

He didn't get enough of a chance to face off against the new Sephiroth to really build up an idea of how he fought, but even so… he can feel Sephiroth's hand in the poses displayed by various SOLDIERs in the photograph. He recognizes the starting pose.

It's the same Sephiroth schooled him in, after mocking his footing.

"It was pretty weird, sir," Lacier says. "He talked all funny. Called himself this master and stuff. Half of the stuff he said didn't make much sense. Still… the best training session I've ever had, as a SOLDIER."

Genesis hums and sits down on the bench press next to Lacier, reading the descriptions added to the photos. They're very detailed. There are quotes.

"Don't tempt Qi-deviation?" Genesis murmurs. It's the final line of the booklet, underlined and everything.

"Something he said at the end," Lacier shrugs. "No idea what it means though."

Genesis frowns and lowers the booklet to rest on his knee. Then he looks at the window and at Midgar below them, swathed in darkness and light of Mako-powered street lamps.

How much Mako did it take for knowledge within that Mako to begin to coalesce into Materia? How much Mako was there in a single SOLDIER?

How much Mako would it take… until the knowledge within that Mako began overwriting the host?

-

Hehe

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Setsuko Hara (Tokyo Story, Late Spring, The Idiot)— "'The only time I saw Susan Sontag cry,' a writer once told me, his voice hushed, 'was at a screening of a Setsuko film.' What Setsuko had wasn’t glamour—she was just too sensible for that—it was glow, one that ebbed away and left you concerned, involved. You got the sense that this glow, like that of dawn, couldn’t be bought. But her smiles were human and held minute-long acts, ones with important intermissions. When she looked away, she absented herself; you felt that she’d dimmed a fire and clapped a lid on something about to spill. Over the last decade, whenever anyone brought up her lips—'Setsuko’s eternal smile,' critics said, that day we learned that she’d died—I thought instead of the thing she made us feel when she let it fall." - Moeko Fujii

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Setsuko Hara:

One of the best Japanese actresses of all time; a symbol of the golden era of Japanese cinema of the 1950s After seeing a Setsuko Hara film, the novelist Shūsaku Endō wrote: "We would sigh or let out a great breath from the depths of our hearts, for what we felt was precisely this: Can it be possible that there is such a woman in this world?"

One of the greatest Japanese actresses of all time!! Best known for acting in many of Yasujiro Ozu's films of the 40s and 50s. Also she has a stunning smile and beautiful charm!

Linked gifset

Linked gifset 2

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

She's considered by some to be the greatest Japanese actress of all time! In Kurosawa's The Idiot she haunts the screen, and TOTALLY steals the show from Mifune every time she appears.

"No other actor has ever mastered the art of the smile to the same extent as Setsuko Hara (1920–2015), a celebrated star and highly regarded idol who was one of the outstanding actors of 40s and 50s Japanese cinema. Her radiant smile floods whole scenes and at times cautiously undermines the expectations made of her in coy, ironic fashion. Yet her smile's impressive range also encompasses its darker shades: Hara's delicate, dignified, melancholy smile with which she responds to disappointments, papers over the emotions churning under the surface, and flanks life's sobering realizations. Her smiles don't just function as a condensed version of her ever-precise, expressive, yet understated acting ability, they also allow the very essence of the films they appear in to shine through for a brief moment, often studies of the everyday, post-war dramas which revolve around the break-up of family structures or the failure of marriages. Her performances tread a fine line between social expectation and personal desire in post-war Japan, as Hara attempts to lay claim to the autonomy of the female characters she plays – frequently with a smile." [link]

Leading lady of classic Japanese cinema with a million dollar smile

Maybe the most iconic Japanese actress ever? She rose to fame making films with Yasujiro Ozu, becoming one of the most well-known and beloved actresses in Japan, working from the 30s through the 60s in over 100 hundred. She is still considered one of the greatest Japanese actresses ever, and in my opinion, just one of the greatest actresses of all time. And she was HOT! Satoshi Kon's film Millennium Actress was largely based on her life and her career.

Barbara Stanwyck:

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Through the Vine

Surrounded by some of the most coveted vineyards on the continent, your party sits in the shaded garden and listens to the old alchemist explaining why she needs your help getting drunk enough to see the face of god.

Every adventurer knows the name Ultani, at least those with coin and taste enough to order bottles of wine when they and their friends hit up a tavern after a delve. What an irony then for one of the Ultani family to ask for THEM at her table, and with a business proposition of all things.

Bent with age but bright of eye, Ivilia Ultani needs their help tracking down the location of an abandoned druid sanctum in the far wilderness and retrieving fruit sacred to the god of vintners and healers left over from a disastrous ritual. Her reasons? Apparently after decades perusing the alchemical mysteries Ivilia got her hands on a bottle blessed by the wine-god himself, and spent four days in a state of drunken revelation pencilling out her magnum opus. The bottle and her inspiration dry just before she finished, so rather than waiting years trying to trial and error the last piece or searching for another bottle she's decided to make some of her own.

Along the way the party will contend with family drama, the cutthroat politics of the wine trade, and the long echoing consequences of stealing from merciful gods. For their troubles they'll not only earn the thanks of a talented alchemist, but also potentially a new home should they hold true to their task.

Setup: Though she is the oldest of her of her merchant clan Ivilia is not the head of the Ultani winery. Her younger brother Valtar had the talent for cultivation and business while she veered towards eccentric scholarship, now Valtar's adult grandchildren run the business and the numerous sprawling vineyards associated with it while she lives in learned obscurity on the original family homestead.

While she occasionally helps out whit a new formulation of fertilizer or pest repellent, Ivilia is rather distant from the rest of the Ultani family who view her as a bit of a kook, who all to often uses her inherited share of the enterprise to buy obscure texts or finance futile experiments.

Challenges & Complications:

Actually finding the sanctum is going to be half the problem. Druidic orders are notoriously protective about the location of their secret clubhouses, and this order was scattered to the wind more than a century ago. Ivilia has tracked down the vague location where she thinks the sanctum might be, but unless the party wants to spend days combing the dangerous wilderness they're going to need to track down a more reliable source. Parsing through local rumours and records gives them three leads, an elf who still provides council to the local Count (goodluck getting an appointment), a vaguely helpful ditty that was recounted to a local bard (since dramatized in endless retelling), and an elder of the order who flew back to his home village in the shape of a falcon. Investigating the latter finds that the elder was apparently so scarred by what he'd seen at the sanctum that he transformed himself into a tree and has spent the intervening decades letting his mind and memory lignify.

The Sanctum itself and the landscape that surrounds it has been scarred by an act of divine wrath that still lingers in the form of dangerous fey and choking vines. Roots have undermined the walls and foundations, making chambers all to easy to collapse. In the centre of this ruin lays the undead corpse of Elmgrace , a once famed elven healer who sought the boon of the god Litirenn only to try and use that gift to reign the god towards his own purposes. Resentful at this deception Litirenn unleashed havoc on the sanctum, cursing Elmgrace never to die, never to rot, and never to rejoin the cycle of nature. Forever vinebound to the same altar he intended for the deity, Elmgrace's few last fanatical followers still tend to his broken body, attempting to brew up more potent poisons that will finally "free" their teacher from his torment.

Unfortunately, the fruit the party needs to pluck grows only from the plants impaling Elmgrace's body, which his followers are very protective of. Even after the party races through the wilderness and back to civilization with their prize they'll need to look over their shoulder for toxin obsessed cultists stalking their trail.

Further Adventures:

Milo Ultani has something to prove, the oldest of four siblings and a gaggle of cousins poised to inherit the winery he was raised to value hard work and loyalty to the family above all else. All his life it has irked him that his great aunt was allowed to dwell in their ancestral home, some of the nicest land his family owns, leaching off their enterprise like a withered limb. What finally drives him to act is Ivilia offhandedly mentioning that she intends to sign over her house and land to the party as a reward for helping her drink her way to enlightenment again. Resentment turns to rage in the young man's mind as a plan begins to form; A vine must be pruned in order to be fruitful after all.

When the party return with the godly fruit they're going to find Ivilia gone, her home broken into during the night her bed a mess of red that at first seems to be blood, but is infact wine. Surrounded by experts it doesn't take long for the vino in question to be identified as belonging to Jadash Hill, one of the Ultani's oldest rivals who are known for their unscrupulous business practices. It's at this point that Milo comes forward, reporting that some of their carters had gotten into brawls with those from Jadash Hill at a local tollhouse, sending the bastards packing and ignoring their threats of reprisal as idle boasting. This did indeed happen, but only because Milo is in charge of part of the family's delivery operation and instigated the fight himself.

The clock is ticking, the party has a bushel of miracle fruit that's going to rot and the alchemist they were supposed to deliver it to is nowhere to be seen. They can either find Ivilia quick, figure out a method of preserving the fruit, or read through her notes and attempt to concoct the divine wine themselves.

However badly he thinks of her, Milo would never kill his great aunt, having instead had his loyal carters drag her off to a small cottage on the edge of a property the family was keeping fallow for the year. In his reckoning the old woman won't live much longer, and while the emerging feud with Jadash hill keeps the family busy he can figure out a better place to keep his great aunt locked up. He wasn't delicate in his planning but he moves fast and the influence he has with the workforce as the presumptive heir cannot be overstated.

Art 1 Art 2

[y-rhywbeth2]

Karlach and Durge's relationship has fun elements that I, for some reason, started thinking on this morning.

Aside from some similarities (the offspring/descendent of powerful beings of the lower planes, whose kind are brought into existence as pawns/displays of power; were given basically no choice about serving their evil relative; who are/were made into living weapons; and the homicidal rages they need to keep under control (and as Zariel is known for her seething homicidal rage, Karlach could actually have inherited it the way Durge gets it from Bhaal))

There's that delightful 'I can fix them' mentality Karlach is bringing to the relationship. Always a good sign. We learned nothing from the Gortash shenanigans.

She talks about getting Durge psychiatric help when they get the city and, while that's a nice sentiment (and I assume she's actually talking about clerical healing at a fully staffed temple or something), I do remember what Faerûn's 'asylums' ('howling keeps') are like, and being locked up in a cell forever (at best) does not strike me as a good time. I just picture Durge hearing that, thinking of how people handle the dangerously 'crazed-witted' and getting ready to bolt. No nope nope no.

Speaking of Gortash: assuming Durge's handwriting hasn't been fundamentally altered by the TBI, they're going to recognise themselves praising the evil genius that is the guy who sold their new friend/lover to slavery in Hell and then have to look Karlach in the eye.

Then there's issue that is Gortash and Durge vs Durge and Karlach vs Gortash and Karlach's relationships. Even though Gortash is projecting and doesn't think there is an issue. 'That was literally a month-to-a-decade ago, why are you mad?' And I'm pasting that conversation, because I like looking at it.

Karlach: 'I don't give a shit about your agreement.' Lord Enver Gortash: 'Then why in the Nine Hells have you come back here, Karlach? What could you possibly want?!' Karlach: 'How about an apology for sending me to the Hells?' Lord Enver Gortash: 'Sorry?! You want me to be sorry for helping you gain more power than you've ever known? That thing in your chest is a blessing I helped you receive. One you're too much of a fool to see. I gave you a clean slate. A chance to rejoin me for our mutual benefit - again.'

(What a guy. God, I want to cut his skull open with a spoon and stare at the contents.)

Durge, of course can start swooning over how brilliant the durgetash alliance is, or, not unreasonably, assume - having only Karlach's accounts of Gortash's betrayal, and the knowledge that they were brutally tortured for a month in the building where the guy works - that he might've fucked them over too.

'I seem to have trusted you once, and it ruined me. I'm not about to repeat that mistake.'

Are we stewing in mutual resentment of an old partner, or are we going to hit a massive problem if Durge wants something of their old life back? There is so much unexplored drama in this part of Act 3 and their mutual arc, it pains me.

Plus Karlach should probably be wondering if Durge had anything to do with her enslavement. They almost certainly didn't timeline wise, because if Karlach was shipped off to Avernus 10 years ago then she was gone the year Bhaal came back and gained the ability to pick Chosen, so the window of opportunity for Durge and Gortash to meet (if it exists) is insanely narrow. But the doubt should be there.

And of course the fact that if you romance her and she undergoes ceremorphosis you can tell her how hot it is when she eats people's brains and she goes 'thanks love.'

[builtbybrokenbells]

Catch-22 | i

It always feels like the harder you try to forget, the more you seem to remember.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: talks about sexual situations, mentions of hookups, talk of general sadness/heartbreak/breakups, mentions of mean girls/high school bullies, poor-self image/insecurity, small town drama, touch of angst, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

hello darlings 😁 im so excited to start this new adventure with you all. a bit of a slowburn but i hope that it will be worth it in time. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The air was chilly, nipping at your exposed skin to remind you of the seasons change, but it was not yet cold enough to be truly bothersome. The night sky was polluted with city lights and the sidewalks were littered with faces of vague familiarity, forcing you to recall a lifetime that you had lived long ago. The town was covered in a haze of melancholic grey, haunting you with years of memories that you had been trying so hard to forget. Your hometown was a place that you had been constantly trying to run away from, something that you had been dreaming of leaving behind for more, yet every holiday season you found yourself back in the same place, wondering if it would ever possible to cleanse yourself of the curses of a small town.

Your bedroom of your childhood home was the same, plastered with posters and photographs of people you hadn’t spoken to in years. You slept under the same comforter that your high-school self had picked out from a Walmart shelf, sixteen and in love with the tasteless pattern mostly because it was new and your very own, rather than one of your sisters well worn hand-me downs. Your pillows held memories of ex-boyfriends and friends that had all broken your heart, even after endless sleepovers and nights spent pouring your souls into each other. Your graduation cap and honours cords decorated your computer desk, and your abhorrent wardrobe was still hung in your closet alongside the embarrassing prom and homecoming dresses. Your parents sat in the same spots in the living room, effectively ignoring each other while trying to force themselves to fall back in love for the greater good of the family. They hadn’t touched a single thing in your room since you moved out.

It was familiar, comfortable, but it was a world you no longer wished to live in. Sure, the memories would be something fond to look back on when you were eighty and reminiscing about your youth while staring death in the face, but as a 23 year old who was eager to step into the real world, it was nothing short of an evocative ode to the person you forever wished you could destroy. You didn’t hate yourself in high school like many others did, at least not seriously; of course, there was a struggle with self image and insecurities, but what teenage girl did not face such problems? You were far from perfect, and you were definitely not a part of the popular clique (Which was just another small town narrative that drove you crazy), but you were alright with what you had made yourself to be all those years ago. You were a selfless soul who loved learning, a great friend who would sacrifice your own happiness if it were for another in need, and one who did fantastically in everything she set her mind to.

It was not your person that made you so eager for change, but rather the lack thereof. You were perfectly mediocre, someone who always flew just under the radar and never stood out. You wanted to be memorable, a person in which others would think of in decades to come, and you knew that the only way to do that was to leave everything behind. Mediocrity would forever become you in a town where it was cherished, and deep down, you knew that you were destined for something greater. Unfortunately, until your university degree was in your hand, you were forced to return home for the holidays. You were not yet able to move across the state and disappear from everyone’s memory, even if it was something you desperately craved.

As you walked, you questioned yourself on your own decisions. Why, especially after reiterating your opinion on your hometown in your mind, did you feel the need to agree to a night of drinking with a group of girls you hadn’t seen in years? At first, it seemed like a fantastic idea, a chance to catch up with people who reminded you of childhood innocence, but as you neared the bar, you felt dread settle in your stomach. These people had no idea who you were, and barely did even when they spent every day with you in grade school. Your lives were worlds apart; some were settled down with kids, some were still living with their parents while trying to relive senior year every weekend despite it being almost half a decade ago. Some had graduated college and started their full time jobs, but none of them were the type of people you wanted to associate with anymore.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to say no. Your generosity was your greatest strength, but somehow also your biggest weakness.

You knew that the night would not be horrible. Mind-numbing, perhaps, but survivable. You would sit and listen to their accomplishments, learn the names of their kids who you would never meet, and you might even share your own stories of life after high school. You would recall old memories, maybe even learn some new ones, and you would get to hear all about the people they loathed in your younger years. Then, you would all go your separate ways and maybe see each other at the ten-year high school reunion. It was predictable, but so were all of the small town dwellers who never took the leap of faith in changing. You would go home and sleep it off, and they would gossip about you over coffee at the shitty cafe down the street the next morning. It was inevitable, unpleasant, yet still seemed more appealing than trying to do schoolwork while listening to your parents passive-aggressive talk about things that were less than important in the background.

You checked your makeup in the camera of your phone, swiping away any specs of mascara and smudged lipstick before entering the bar. You weren’t willing to give them any fuel to talk behind your back once you went home. You had even put on a nice skirt and a shirt that was a little out of your comfort zone for the occasion. You knew you didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, but growing up alongside a sea of cheerleaders and athletes had severely impacted your self confidence. You were average in every aspect; your younger self was a little bigger than most in terms of weight. You had glasses and poor makeup skills, always trying to cover your acne yet only ever making it more obvious. You never dressed up, and most often dressed down, and you were so involved in academics that you never bothered much with a social life beyond your small group. You hated school dances, and your family never had the extra money to spend on any extracurricular activities. With three children, you couldn’t blame them; you knew that you and your sisters had a good life, even if you had to miss out on some things here and there.

You were not bullied, but your peers were certainly not overly friendly nor concerned with your existence. Since then, you weren’t shy to admit that your appearance had drastically improved. Not in any grand sense, but your metabolism finally caught up to speed, your skin cleared, you learned some tricks with makeup brush and had discovered contact lenses. Maybe your agreement to join them had less to do with your fear of saying no, and more to do with your desire to prove your worth. If they were going to talk, you hoped that you could at least give them something good to say.

You opened the door, drawing in a long breath to settle your thoughts as you were slapped in the face with the warmth of the air inside. You could hear music drifting through the sound system, likely a song from the same playlist they were using the last time you had visited over a year prior. Originality was not something that was greatly cherished, and the regulars would probably still hoot and holler for songs they had heard ten times that night alone. The bar was lit with dim lamps shining from underneath the liquor wall and the neon projections from the dance floor. It was so predictable, yet you still found an unexplainable charm in it. It was one of the few bars that remained standing amidst a nasty fight for business, and it had been open since your parents enjoyed a night on the town (which was a very long time ago). Still, the staff was friendly and every now and again there was a diamond in the rough that sang when they broke out the karaoke machine. It wasn’t miserable, but it was nothing like the bars you were used to in your university town.

You slipped your coat from your shoulders, already finding it too warm inside, and fought your way through the crowd to the bar. You pulled a twenty from your wallet, anxiously awaiting your turn to order. Eventually, after a few moments of watching them sling pitchers of draft beer across the countertop, a bartender made her way towards you. “What can I get you, honey?” She asked, a blinding smile on her face. You wanted to believe it was genuine, but you knew that it was likely an act to coerce a tip from you. Either way, the kindness was appreciated, especially when you were feeling so jittery.

“Just a double vodka soda for now, please.” You said, drumming your fingertips against the countertop. She gave a curt nod, rushing away to fix the drink. Whether her speed was because she wanted to get rid of you or because she wanted to provide five-star customer service was neither here nor there. Within a minute, she sat a frosty glass of liquid courage before you and was already offering to start a tab. With hesitancy, you slipped the bill back in your pocket and agreed to pay later, handing her your credit card instead. You were aiming for a drink and dash, but you figured you shouldn’t walk into an interaction with such negativity. For all you knew, the night could be the best time you had during your visit home.

‘That would be pathetic.’ You shut the thought down as soon as it surfaced.

With the glass in your hand, you turned towards the crowd. Your eyes scanned the bodies, aiming to locate your company for the night, but knowing that you would be just as content if they decided not to show. After a moment, you heard your name over the mess of drunken chatter and shitty music. Your head turned in the direction of the sound, locating a group of girls in a corner booth. You forced yourself to smile, sipping on your straw as you stepped towards them. A whirlwind of emotion struck you once you were within earshot of their conversation, only questioning yourself more as the seconds continued to pass by. Before you could convince yourself to turn and run, they slid over and invited you in.

“Well hello, y/n.” A bubbly blonde greeted. Her name was Beth, and in middle school, she had started dating a boy named Jack. You could recall the toxic, jealous display the two often engaged in and the cheating scandals that seemed to surface every other week. When you all graduated, he joined the military right after he popped the big question. They were married two months later and had their first kid seven months after the graduation ceremony. Now, she was a stay at home mom with three kids and a blog about her family life, which to you just seemed like a huge cry for help.

“Hi,” you smiled, settling into the booth.

“We were so happy to hear that you could make it.” Another girl spoke, Allyson (the ‘y’ was very much important to her identity as she liked to remind everyone, although you did remember her spelling it with an ‘I’ until high school), with fake ginger hair and so much plastic surgery that she was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to your early days. She came from a rich family, one who never taught her much about hard work or discipline. She considered herself a professional social media influencer, which she claimed paid for the mansion she now lived in. You all knew her parents gifted it to her, yet nobody seemed keen on calling her on her bullshit. But, she was gorgeous, and she did take some damn good pictures from what you had seen on her Instagram. You never minded her much in school.

“Yeah, I was really happy to get the invitation.” You forced through your teeth, still wondering why you came at all.

“How’s life at UMichigan?” The last woman spoke, voice quiet and genuinely curious. You looked to your side, eyes softening at the sight. It was your best friend from elementary school, someone in which you shared lots of dreams about being an astronaut over juice boxes and Barbie dream houses. You didn’t see much of her once middle school came around; she loved soccer, and you loved the library. The world played its part in your separation, yet there never seemed to be any ill feelings about the shattered friendship. Her name was Sarah, and she was admittedly still the prettiest woman you had ever seen. She went to community college and worked at a daycare somewhere around town. Strangely enough, even after years of radio silence in grade school, once you both graduated, you remained in contact. She was one of the few people from Frankenmuth that you kept any kind of contact with, even if it was minimal. (In truth, it was really only the occasional ‘how are you’ and funny pictures sent through social media, but contact is contact, right?)

“It’s good,” you nodded, already nearing the end of your drink. “Just a few more months and I’m done, so that’s exciting. The city is nice, and so are the people. It’s kind of like a home away from home.”

“What are you taking, again?” Allyson asked.

“Oh, English literature. Guess I never really grew out of my love for books.” You chuckled, stirring your ice around your glass with the straw.

“You did love to read,” Beth chuckled, fidgeting with her wedding ring. You wondered if she craved escape the same way you did, or if she ever wondered what life would be like if she didn’t rush herself into marriage. After the endless heartbreak her now husband seemed to cause her all those years ago, you doubted that she was any more than just content. People didn’t change that much, and you feared that she was still living the same reality as her high school self did.

“I did,” you agreed, feeling the awkwardness already begin to creep up on you. “What about you? Your kids are absolutely adorable, by the way.” You shifted the attention away from yourself, despising the empty small talk.

“Oh, thank you.” She gushed. You could tell that they were her pride and joy, and despite her potential distaste for the life she chose for herself, she had not one bit of regret for them. “I’m doing good, but they definitely keep me busy. Don’t have much time for anything else with them running around all of the time.”

“I can imagine.” You sympathized, wondering if her extended invitation was just an excuse to be a real person and have some alone time for ten minutes. “Love the blog, by the way. Your recipe page is my go to for any kind of get-together.” You could tell she needed the gratification, and you never minded dishing any out.

“Really?” She squeaked, almost like she couldn’t believe someone actually cared enough to read them.

“Of course.” You nodded. Maybe you had misjudged the situation, and catching up after so long wasn’t terribly bad. After all, you had all grown and changed so much that it was almost like getting to know each other all over again. “And Allyson, I saw you just got back from Bali not too long ago. How was that?”

“It was phenomenal.” She gushed, eager that the conversation was pointed in her direction. “Definitely my favourite place I’ve been so far.” You were almost sickened at the thought of footing her travel bill, but smiled despite your astonishment at the fact that she had the money to travel the world so freely. You were thankful that the bartender came to clear the table, prolonging your process of trying to think of another question. You all put in another drink order, knowing that intoxication would be key to making the night enjoyable. Stale air surrounded you as you waited for the next round of drinks, none of you sure of where to go from there. When your second double of the night was within reach, you could already feel the tension melting away in your shoulders.

“You look really good, y/n.” Sarah said, studying every detail your face had to offer. “University life is definitely for you.”

“Oh,” you gave a nervous laugh “thank you. I finally discovered the benefits of contact lenses, so that really helped.” You joked, recalling the bulky frames that used to sit on your nose. They were so horrendous that it was impossible to forget them.

“No, you look happier.” She replied, giving you a small smile.

“Yeah, I am.” You nodded, knowing that she had hit the nail on the head. Leaving town had done wonders for your mental well-being, and even more for your personal development. You were free to spend time with others just like yourself, and ones so different that they constantly challenged you to step out of your comfort zone. Different as adult was so much better than different as kids, because you never felt shamed or outcasted for your previously strange likes and interests. Different after eighteen was so unlike what you had known as a child, and you quickly learned that there were so many divergent personalities like your own waiting to be discovered. Back when you lived under your parents roof and knew nothing but your high school, you were well aware that if you didn’t fit in with the culture of the community, you were better off lying rather than showing your true colours. Small towns always seemed to beat any unconventional traits out of a person and they cherished likeness. There were thousands of people who resided in your town, yet they all seemed like the same personality, just in a different body.

“All it took was getting away from Frankenmuth.” Beth said, sending a wink your way.

“Or getting away from Sam Kiszka.” Allyson giggled, but you found her comment far from humorous. The name seemed to strike you like a gunshot, tearing through you and leaving little behind. You choked on your drink, sputtering and coughing to expel the liquid and hopefully his memory, too. You hadn’t heard the name in a long time, and if you had it your way, you would never hear it again.

“Stop,” Beth gave a gentle smack on her arm, but still found herself laughing alongside the other girl. You were too distracted to care about their pointed snickering, already pulled back into a violent confrontation in your mind over the one person you had promised to forget. It seemed that at the sound of his name alone, you could remember his spirit and his presence so clearly, like he was sat right in the booth beside you and no distance had ever separated you from him. You could hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, and you could feel his hand on your arm, gripping you tightly as he laughed at one of your stupid jokes. The air was stolen from your lungs, your own mind was suffocating you as it forced you to recall the memories.

It was almost funny, grieving someone so deeply while they were still alive and breathing. It was almost terrifying, knowing that after years of trying to forget, you only ever seemed to remember with more clarity.

“Do you ever hear from him?” The words pulled you back into reality, but the impact of his memory was so profound that reality did not even seem real. Your eyes flickered up to Beth’s face, unsure if they were asking out of curiosity, or if their plan was to torture you all along. You thought it best to just continue as if the topic hadn’t completely derailed your entire life in just a few seconds. You were never one to hang your dirty laundry on the line for everyone to see.

“No, never.” You shook your head, but it was a lie. Well, only partially. There was a stash of saved voicemails from him in your inbox, but they ended somewhere around your third year of university beginning. The sober version of yourself questioned why you would ever keep such things so easily accessible, as they were nothing but a trophy of your misery, but the drunkest version of you needed to hear them to go to sleep at night. There was an entire album of pictures of him saved deep in the stores of your phone, retrieved only on nights when you had too much wine and too little self control. There was a box of memories tied to a man who no longer knew if you were alive or dead stored in a box underneath your bed, just because you could never find the courage or the strength to discard them. So no, you weren’t lying when you said that you never heard from him, but you would be lying in saying that you had managed to rid yourself of him. Even when you begged yourself to forget, you never really wanted to let it all go. You promised yourself that with time, you would finally be free, but the time was nowhere near right yet, even if you wished it was. “He seems to be doing great for himself, though.”

“Oh my god, I know.” Allyson gushed, almost like she had been waiting to address the elephant in the room. It was a culture shock to everyone in the town to see you and Sam finally go your separate ways, and you were certain that it had been a common topic of discussion for the people left behind. “They’re all so hot now.”

“Hey,” you defended, the response automatic even if it wasn’t deserved. “Sam was… I mean, he was… they were all good looking.” You muttered, only digging yourself a deeper hole as you continued speaking. A chorus of giggles sounded from the booth, but you did not participate. You wished you could disappear, or even have the booth swallow you whole just to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Some things never change,” Beth sighed, reminiscing on an easier life.

“Did you ever meet anyone new?” Sarah asked, hoping to change topics to make it a little more digestible for you. As much as her concern for you was endearing, the time had long passed for any type of relief. You were now completely uninvolved in whatever the dynamic was at the table, instead thrown back into a whirlpool of emotions at the thought of the boy you hoped you would never have to see again. You should have known better than to accept the invitation, because small town girls only ever cared about gossip, and the legacy that you and Sam Kiszka had left on the town was too tempting for them to pass up.

“I mean, there were a couple flings, but nothing ever lasted long.” You whispered, burying yourself in the vodka soda to suppress the sour taste that was left in your mouth after speaking his name. “I don’t think dating is for me, anyway. Maybe in the future once I’m graduated and have a steady job, but just not right now.” You confessed, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

“Don’t say that,” Allyson reached over, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “You never know what’s waiting for you. If you don’t want to date, just have some fun. No strings attached is a whole new world of possibilities.” She gave you a smirk, knowing that you were never the type for meaningless sex. They didn’t have to know you very well to know that; innocence was written all over you, even in the newest, most powerful version of yourself.

“You’re right,” you agreed, mostly just so you could move on, but you couldn’t deny that there was some truth in her statement. Maybe you had such a hard time forgetting because you wouldn’t allow yourself to learn about anything else. One night of nothing but fun seemed like a sure way to start moving forward, and after a year and a half of radio silence, you figured there could be no harm in trying.

“Oooh,” she wiggled her eyebrows, enticed by your intrigue. “Let me pick one for you, please.” She said, turning around and looking into the sea of people.

“Maybe not tonight.” You laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. You were sat with three women in which you never thought you would speak to again, in the middle of a bar in your hometown that you hated with a passion, while your company begged you to let them pick you a one night stand. A dream would be the most logical explanation for the series of events, but your burning cheeks and nervous jitters were too strong to be a figment of your imagination.

“Why not tonight!” She exclaimed. “The sooner you learn that the world has more to offer than Sam Kiszka, the better you’ll feel.” She assured you. You gave a tight lipped smile, sipping the last of your drink away, knowing you shouldn’t protest the statement. If you did, you would only be further proving your ignorance to the truth, ultimately cementing your blind loyalty to someone who probably hadn’t given you a second thought in years. Still, even knowing you shouldn’t feel such a way, deep down you believed that the most the world could offer was Sam Kiszka, and you would be foolish for thinking otherwise. “Maybe we’ll get a few drinks into you, that’ll change your mind.” She said, signalling a bartender to the table.

And drink you did; it didn’t take long for the rosiness of your cheeks to change from embarrassment to tipsiness. The chatter about your love life died down and was replaced by humorous retellings of stories that had been long forgotten in your minds. Every now and again, Allyson would point to a man walking by in hopes that he would be suitable for your taste, but you always turned the other way. Along the way, you had switched from vodka to rum, and that was never a good thing for you. You were shocked at the lighthearted nature of the hangout, elated that you had decided to come, knowing that this would indeed be the most fun you had during your stay in Frankenmuth. The music only got better the drunker you got, and the bar seemed more and more inviting as you continued to sip away at the alcohol.

Somewhere around the sixth round of drinks, Allyson had convinced the crowd to move to the dance floor and further the fun. You were never one to dance, yet the rum coursing throughout your veins made it seem like a tempting endeavour. With a shot of tequila down and a lime wedge stuck between your lips, you were the first to make the move towards the swarm of bodies. Under the neon strobe lights, the world seemed like such a beautiful place, one in which no heartbreak or melancholic memory could touch you, nor could the weight of your hometown drag you down any further. Phones were out, snapping pictures of a night none of you ever envisioned for yourselves, but it would be one you would remember in years to come. Beth was free of the chains of motherhood for a night, Sarah was celebrating something none of you knew a thing about, Allyson was in search of a suitor for you and for herself, and for the first time in your entire life, Sam Kiszka was not even a thought in your mind.

It was so fantastic, that you even found yourself with your hands all over a nameless man who was quite easy on the eyes. He was tall, had a nice smile, and most importantly, was nothing like the boy you wanted to forget. There were few words shared between the two of you, but it seemed that the liquor was doing all of the work for you. You were both dancing, knowing that it didn’t matter what conversation you made, because you were both in search of the same thing; companionship for a single night, then leaving and never speaking again, just like it never happened at all. No Instagram follows, no Facebook stalking, or anything of the sorts. Just simple sexual pleasure without any further requirements. You would even be okay if he neglected telling you his name, because in truth, you did not care. You were only concerned in the ability of his hands, and perhaps even his mouth as long as there was a promise of him using it for anything but speaking.

When the song ended, he whisked you away to the bar to buy you another drink in hopes of winning you over. You did not have the heart to tell him that there was no need for any convincing, because you were more than ready to go home with him for the night. You took post on a bar stool, head swirling with endless possibilities. Your face was warm, and your eyes were glossy with intoxication. Much to your regular-selfs dismay, you would even be willing to compromise for a bathroom hookup just to avoid spending the entire night together. You were hammered, and it had been far too long since you had felt the hands of another. Your only rationale was that one time would not be the end of the world, and you likely wouldn’t remember most of it when the sun began shining in the sky again.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He asked, leaning so close to you that your noses were nearly touching. There it was, the dreaded formalities expected before sexual intimacy. You hated it, and you hated getting to know people. Small talk killed you, and talk as simple as that was just dirt piling on top of the casket.

“Y/n,” you hummed, drinking down the fruity beverage the bartender had mixed for you. “What about you?”

“Austin,” he replied, eyes casting a heavy-lidded gaze over your face.

“I can work with that.” You smiled, wondering if he would take the final step toward the finish line, or if you would have to beat him to it.

“I’m sure you can.” He grinned, already showcasing excitement for what seemed like a certain agreement between the two of you. “Do you want to head back to my place?”

“I think that would be fine.” You nodded, inching closer to him. You wanted to kiss him, but you were afraid that the tension was so intense that you would not be able to contain yourself if you did.

“I’ll call us a cab.” He said, hand lingering on your hip with a burning touch. He pulled back, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone when you caught sight of a view that made your heart skip a beat. You shifted to the side, hopeful for a better look, even while knowing it was in your best interest to mind your own business and tend to your own needs, for once.

You squinted, trying to rid yourself of the double vision and focus in on your target. You leaned forward on your chair, eyebrows knitted together as you held onto the bar top for support. “Oh my god.” You audibly gasped, too drunk to hold back your shock. Your company gave you a look of confusion, unsure of what had caught your eye. When you didn’t answer, he turned his head to look in the direction of the disturbance. You waited, hoping that your eyes were deceiving you, but the longer you stared, the more familiar the long mop of curly hair seemed. When the subject in question turned to face the bartender rather than the body beside him, you thought you were going to be sick. You knew that big nose and that blinding smile, and you knew it far too well. It was one you hadn’t seen in years, but no amount of time would ever allow you to forget it. “I have to go.” You blurred out, rushing to your feet and nearly tripping over yourself to get away.

“Wait, did I do something?” Austin asked, completely clueless about anything that was happening.

“No, sorry, just have to go.” You muttered, pulling your jacket from the back of your chair. You grabbed your purse, scrambling away from the scene to try and locate the girls you had spent the evening with. Approaching the dance floor, your eyes landed on the group you had left behind. You scrambled towards them, frantic and breathless in hopes of saying goodbye. When you were a few feet away, a body stepped in front of them before you could reach them. Your eyes widened as you stepped backwards, knowing that there was no way in which you could continue forward with him in your way. He was short, his long brown hair cascading down his shoulders as he adorned a lazy smile. His face was so similar to someone you knew too well, so achingly beautiful and haunting in its familiarity.

You made it off of the dance floor, relieved to be free from an interaction you were absolutely unwilling to have. You let out a long exhale, turning towards the exit. You thought you were in the clear until you saw someone lingering by the main entrance, a dopey grin on his cheeks as he chatted up a group of people at a nearby booth. “Why are there so fucking many of them?!” You exclaimed to yourself, not even loud enough to reach your own ears over the music. You wondered if you could slip by unnoticed; maybe, if you put the hood of your jacket up, he wouldn’t even recognize you as you walked by. You thought it was your best chance at escape, not seeing any other way out of the grisly predicament you had found yourself in.

As you were slipping your coat on, you noticed the body by the door finishing up his conversation. Your heart sped, palms breaking into a sweat as you rushed to pull your hood up, but you were much too late. The boy had started to make his way towards you, his curious eyes settled on your face as he attempted to place your astounding familiarity. After a few seconds, his eyes lit up like he’d won the grand prize. He sped his pace, trying to reach you before he lost you. In a panic, you took a few steps backwards, recklessly trying to run before he could close in on you. Instead of a graceful disappearance, you had walked straight into someone standing a few feet behind you. Luckily, the person was not carrying a drink and there was no mess to be had. You figured you could mutter an apology and be on your way.

You turned, ready to rush out an apologetic comment for being so clumsy, but when your eyes landed on the face, you thought the ground was going to disappear from under you and the sky would come crashing down. Your stomach was positively sick with stress and your heart was on the verge of combusting. Your hands were shaking, no longer concerned with concealing your face, because there was no need to hide, anymore. You had been caught red handed, and by the absolute worst person out of them all. If you would have just mustered the courage for an awkward chat with one of the others, perhaps you would not have been so unlucky to run into Sam Kiszka himself, smiling down at you with a far away look in his eye.

“Long time no see, Rapunzel.” He gave you a small smirk, stealing the air directly from your lungs and effectively shattering your psyche.

Your house was still, not a peep to be heard from any of your siblings bedrooms nor your parents. The soft hum of the television could be heard if you listened hard enough. Your fathers snoring was extremely faint in the background, and the putter of rain against the steel roof enveloped the home in a cozy atmosphere. For a Saturday night, you were all tucked away considerably early with no better place to be. You had your record player on the lowest setting, giving an ambience in your room without disturbing any peace. A soft yellow light from a lamp by your beside was the only thing illuminating the room, and you were seconds away from sleep. That was, until a soft plunk of something hitting against your window scared you back into wakefulness.

You climbed from your bed, uncertain of the cause of the noise, yet having a sneaking suspicion rise in the back of your mind. As you peered into the darkness of the night, your heart gave an excited flutter as your eyes landed on the culprit. You cracked the window open, popping the screen out and gently leaning it against your wall. “Let down your hair, Rapunzel.” His voice was quiet, both of you fearful of being caught but never enough to sway your decision on seeing each other.

You reached down, extending your hands to him. He grabbed on to them and you helped him up, slowly letting go once you were certain he had a good grip on the windowsill. He pulled himself up, gracelessly tumbling inside through the small open area. “You’re stupid, you know.” You giggled, making sure to be as quiet as possible.

“You love it.” Sam said, looking down at you. There was a glimmer of adoration shining in his eye, one that told you he would be happy to insulted by you for the rest of his life. “My parents weren’t home, so I figured I’d come and see you.”

“Well, my parents are home, and they’ll kill us if we get caught.” He was barely listening to you, already sliding the window shut to lock out the cold air. He turned back to you, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. You melted into the feeling, knowing that it had realistically only been a day since you had felt his touch, but it felt more like an eternity.

“I would be more than happy to die if it meant it would be by your side, y/n.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered closed at the euphoric feeling, knowing that you too would be alright with dying as long as he was by your side.

“How are you, Samuel?” You asked, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you tried to think of a way out of the conversation.

“Better now that you’re here.” He said, looking as if he wanted to reach out and touch you, yet knowing that he shouldn’t.

“Please, let’s not act like this is a joyous reunion.” You chuckled, averting your gaze to the floor. The longer you looked at him, the worse your chest ached.

“Come on, Princess. You knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He chuckled, looking down at you with the same adoration he had all of those years ago. His hair was longer now; you recalled the last time you saw him, when he had told you he was working on growing it out. You had seen pictures, but he was so much different in person. The childish nature of his face had long gone, replaced by the face of a man you no longer knew. It was horrific, astounding to know that everything had changed. He was not the same person you remembered him as, and it was a hard pill to swallow even if you had been telling yourself that for months.

But, just because you knew that Sam was not the same person who once was so important to you, did not mean that you wanted to accept the fact. As you continued staring at him, a lifetimes worth of memories flooded back to you, making home in your heart despite you desperately trying to keep them out. His eyes held familiarity, and a sense of home that you hadn’t felt since the last time he stood before you, and they were drawing you in further with every second that passed. You would forever break underneath the weight of your love for Sam, and even years after the initial heartbreak, the feeling never seemed to fade. It had been more than a year since you were last face to face with him, now accompanied by someone you knew absolutely nothing about, but there was a fizzle of joy in your heart to finally be in his presence again. You hated him, but you loved him despite the hatred, and that was the most wretched part about it. He knew you so wholly and completely that you despised him for it, yet it held an odd comfort that you had never felt with another. You never wanted anyone to know you as well as Sam, but most of the time, you did not even want him to know you so well.

“Guess I did,” you shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Can’t ever seem to stay away from each other.” It was the painful truth; no matter how far you ran, you could never get far enough away. Or, you ran so far that you made it all the way around the world, just to end up staring at the back of his head.

“You look stunning, y/n.” He said, almost seeming nervous to voice the compliment. “I miss you.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, your cheeks turning red at the kind words. “I, uh… I miss you, too.”

“I left so many voicemails, and I never heard back. Just figured it would be best to give you some space. Didn’t realize it would turn into months, and then I was too scared to reach out.” He explained. You bit down on the inside of your lip, recalling the declined calls and unanswered messages. You felt horrible about it, yet you knew that it was ultimately for the best. Back then, you never pictured yourself coming face to face with him again. Maybe if you had at least given an amicable goodbye, it wouldn’t be so difficult to look him in the eyes. Then again, you could not blame yourself too harshly for leaving without a word, because god knows he deserved much less than a silent goodbye.

“Some things are better left unsaid, Sam.” You reminded, trying shake away the looming sadness that was hanging over your head. How can you love someone’s company and loathe it all the same?

“I know, and I don’t blame you.” He agreed, hoping that you knew he wasn’t angry. “Can I buy you a drink, maybe? I know it won’t make up for anything, but it’s the least I could do. It would be really nice to catch up.” You looked up, finally meeting his eyes. You wished you hadn’t, because the pain he held in his gaze was too much to bear. It was the same one you had been carrying around for so long. You wanted to say yes, to let the past remain the past and move forward somehow, but you felt frozen. It would be nice to hear about his life, to say hello to his brothers, and Danny. ‘Sweet Danny’ you thought, another wave of grief washing over you. You missed him so badly, and you craved to rekindle your friendship with him, but he had always been Sam’s friend, first. It would not be fair for you to impede on their relationship for any selfish reason, and selfishness seemed to be all you knew when it came to Sam.

“No,” you shook your head, the weight of your rejection heavy in the air. “No, Sam. I have to get home.”

“Oh,” he attempted to cover his hurt with the word, but it only made it all the more clear. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some other time?” It was not likely that you would ever be willing to make plans with him in the future, but you could not seem to break the bad news to him. Instead, a little white lie would solve your immediate problems, and you could continue on trying to pretend he did not exist. That way, you would never actually need to confront the issue. Avoidance was a game the two of you had mastered, and you only thought it right to keep up the same energy.

“Sure, Sam. Some other time.” You nodded, already stepping away from him. “Have a good night.”

“You too, y/n. It was good seeing you.” He said, wishing he could find the right words to convince you to stay. Instead, he watched as you disappeared into the sea of people, wondering if he would ever get the chance to see you again.

You pushed through the door, tumbling into the night as tears threatened your eyes. Your heart was heavy, so heavy that you were having trouble placing one foot in front of the other due to the sheer weight of it. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, trying to keep out the cold and exile the lingering feeling of his company. You wished that you had declined the girls invitation, not because of any reason you previously thought you would, but because you knew that the innocent reunion with Sam would hinder your healing and bring you right back to square one. The hardest part about being in love with Sam was not actually loving him, but rather falling out of love with him. You had been trying for years, and every time you thought you made progress, it would ultimately be for nothing, because something else would come along that would make you fall in love all over again.

As you walked back to your childhood home, the streets reminding you of the version of yourself you were desperate to kill, you realized that your hatred for Frankenmuth had little to do with your need for change. You weren’t eager to leave because of the gossip, nor the close-minded nature of the population, and not even because of the lack of substance. Your hometown was quite beautiful if you knew where to look, and held charm like no other. It was not the worst place in the world, and in truth, it was quite far from it. Your desperation to leave was directly accredited to your desire to forget Sam Kiszka. You wished to purge yourself of his memory and erase him from your life. You craved to be a new person, one who his hand never had the opportunity to touch, and one who was strong enough to break from the incessant cycle that you had been stuck in since the beginning of time. The person you wished not to be was not the one who grew up in a small town in Michigan, it was the one who fell irrevocably and unequivocally in love with Sam.

As you wiped a tear from your cheek, you were terrified that you would never see a lifetime in which he did not exist. Above all else, you feared that even if you escaped the town and the shackles in which it held you with, you would still never be free from the curse of loving Sam Kiszka with every fibre of your being.

TAGLIST: @itsafullmoon @freefallthoughts

[dangermousie]

Ok, 13 eps in and it’s official - Lost You Forever is this year’s Love Between Fairy and Devil for me, and not just because I am unreasonably obsessed or because I love the design or because it features a protagonist horribly hurt by life and a love interest who gets to them by pure sunshine goodness.

No, it’s because they both are summer dramas that I mocked before they aired and whose cast gave me hives and then I had to eat crow dinner with crow coffee and crow dessert.

I thought the concept of LBFAD (demon king and fairy girl occasionally swap bodies) was risible. I thought anyone who cast Dylan Wang in anything, let alone as a terrifying demon lord, needed to have their head checked. I’ve seen that man in a number of dramas and he can’t act, thought I. Oh, and that trailer was simply awful. This is going to be a great terrible flop and I am gonna enjoy hate watching and mocking it, also thought I. I checked it out solely out of sheer morbid curiosity and I was a gone five minutes in. It ended up my favorite drama of 2022, made it into my top 10 cdramas of all time in fact, and if anyone said Dylan did anything but an amazing job in LBFAD, I’d fight them in the parking lot. Man tore my heart out.

Now comes 2023 and here is another anticipated summer drama, Lost You Forever. If you assume I learned anything from the LBFAD scenario, you would be wrong. (In my defense, in the overwhelming bulk of cases when I hate the concept, trailer and cast, I do not end up adoring the final product.) Nobody could explain the plot to me coherently (not their fault in retrospect, I can’t even explain it myself as it’s more character study than anything.) The concept screams reverse harem, something I am primed to enjoy about as much as I was primed to enjoy LBFAD body swap between female fairy and demon king or perhaps a toothache. The cast - yikes think I. The last Yang Zi drama and performance I enjoyed was the Battle of Changsha. A drama that is a bona fide masterpiece and in which she performed amazingly but was released in 2013, a whole decade ago. Ever since then she’s proceeded to play a range of cheery dimwits who only a mother could love, and only a mother in possession of earplugs and perhaps a gag at that. And to me she started sleepwalking through those roles to boot. Watching her and her dramas became the definition of elevator music. And her leading men here? Ooof! The guy who plays the cousin I’ve never seen in anything. Tan Jianci is good in the right role but I did not think that was going to be a good role and then we get Court Lady Tan Jianci which - shudder. And Deng Wei? Yikes! I’ve seen him in a bunch of dramas and he was the walking incarnation of color beige. And that trailer was a giant huh.

And now here we are. The story is exquisite and I feel so deeply for everyone in it (now, in case of cousin the feeling is the desire to barbecue him but still.) The acting is uniformly good and so is the story. And Yang Zi does not play a cheerful dimwit but a haunted old soul and she does it so well my heart breaks for her and I am so invested in her it becomes ridiculous as I feel her slightest joy or disappointment so intensely. And oh Deng Wei is my other revelation. If someone told me I’d be swooning over a character played by him I would have told them to sleep off all the booze they must have just consumed. But guuh, his 17 just might end up being my favorite male character in 2023 cdramas and I feel for him so deeply and remain amazed how he makes goodness layered and not boring or cloying at all.

That crow feast is sooo delicious!

Am I gonna learn? Hell no! Provided we are not all murdered by a giant asteroid, come back to this space in 2024 to see what other drama that I was prepared to hate I am now obsessing about.