#my new years resolution is to erase less can you tell

[blossomhead]

leo newman is…not having a great time

(i’m having a great time playing @the-passenger-if though)

[sunsafewriting]

AU.

Ava starts a dumb YouTube channel where she makes complicated recipes badly. Maybe people show up for that, but they kind of stay for her conversations with her roommate — who stays off-screen. Mostly.

-

chapter 1 excerpt:

“I’m going to be a YouTuber,” Ava announces, as soon as she’s through the door. “Like you.”

This is enough to get Beatrice to put down her book. She’s curled up in the corner of the couch, looking soft and warm and as about as relaxed as Beatrice ever gets, and Ava just wants to flop down beside her, put her head in Beatrice’s lap, and steal as much closeness as she can. 

But Beatrice is already standing, already crossing the room to help Ava with the grocery bags: the couch snuggles — devastatingly — are not to be. 

“I’m not a YouTuber, ” Beatrice says, affronted. 

Will it ever not be fun to see the little crinkle she gets between her eyebrows? No. Every day, it delights Ava more. “You post videos on YouTube.”

“They’re supplemental materials for my freshman class. And less than half of them watch it.”

It’s so tempting to take this opportunity to tell Beatrice that the fact she’s a TA now is super sexy, just to watch her blush and stutter, but Ava’s got a point to make. They can double back later. It’s not like Beatrice will blush any less. 

“Exactly. A YouTuber.”

“I’m not even in the videos, Ava.”

This is untrue. Beatrice’s face is not in the video, but her hands are. She steps through the equations on paper, carefully writing out each of the digits, each of the symbols — Ava doesn’t even know what most of them are, but it’s hot that Beatrice is confident enough to do it all in pen. Ava was always a pencil girl when it came to maths. Pencil and eraser. 

“Okay, fine, so you’re not a YouTuber in the traditional vloggy sense. And I’m not going to be one, either. Obviously. But my New Year’s resolution was to keep a journal, and that has not been going swimmingly.” It’s February, and she hasn’t got so much as a dot point. “So, I figured I should stop trying to write stuff, and I should film stuff! And then maybe someone will watch it and I’ll get to make friends with an internet stranger. And I haven’t even told you the best part.” 

Beatrice’s eyebrow goes up. “It gets better than internet strangers?”

Ava loves random people online; they’re funny and weird and only sometimes too weird. But Beatrice still believes the internet is for finding information and not for socialising. Which is something that Ava discovered shortly after they first met, years ago, when she tried to find Beatrice on Instagram and Facebook to absolutely no success, and had to actually ask for her number. Insane, but worth it. 

“I’m going to film myself learning to cook all the random shit I put on my food bucket list. That’s three birds with one stone, Bea.” 

“Very efficient of you.” 

“I knew you’d be impressed.”

Perhaps impressed isn’t quite the word. Slightly bemused is probably accurate. But Ava lives to dazzle Beatrice with amazing feats like actually completing chores she says she’s going to do, and figuring out how to climb onto the roof of the STEM library on campus. 

Admittedly, the library one went over better with Lilith than Beatrice. Ava likes to believe that her sick parkour skills that day won her back a little of the dignity she lost after Lilith found out she watches Beatrice’s lecture recap videos. 

“If you want, I’ll teach you how to use my video editing software,” Beatrice offers. “It’s not very fancy, so if you want to do anything particularly technical, we’ll have to find you a better one.” 

“You’re the best,” Ava grins. 

Then remembers that there’s ice cream in one of her bags and she can’t get distracted by Beatrice for too long, or it’ll melt. That’s not a mistake a person can make twice without having to ask themselves some hard questions, like whether their crush on their roommate is getting out of hand, and is in fact a whole fallen in love type thing. 

Which it definitely, definitely is, but Ava’s put off having to deal with that for quite a while, and will continue to do so, until —

Until —

She hasn’t got that far. 

Ava grabs the ice cream and quickly shoves it into the freezer. Take that, introspection. Not today. 

“I like when you get a new project,” Beatrice says quietly, when Ava turns back to face her. She’s so earnest that Ava thrums with it. “You get a very specific — energetic quality.” 

Everything Ava can think of to reply with is too much. So she winks instead. “That’s me. Full of energy. I can go all night. ”

“You need three Red Bulls to go all night.”

“With studying . I am obviously trying to make a sex joke, Bea.”  

[fairygal11]

Happy New Year everyone! :3

Happy NEW YEAR!  Welcome 2023, may you be a year that's much better and kinder. May dreams come true and passion burning bright. Less Drama and LESS IDIOCRACY from both in the Real World and at home. Less housework and having to do everything, and more doing what one loves.Top priority is Self-Care, Self-Love, Dreams, Passions and Joys. Any negativity and hate that tries to get in my way of what I want to do and try to get me down-Well, let me tell ya something: I am a kind, strong and hardworking gal who cares about her family, friends and things that she loves and holds dear, but get on my bad side Negativity and hate-you'll find that beneath this nice caring gal is a powerful dragon that'll take ya down a peg until your nothing, but a pile of soot! I'm gonna do the things I love to do while also helping the best I can especially helping the people I care about-Nobody should set themselves on fire to keep others warm. Which is a quote by Penny Reid and also there is a similar quote in Epither Erased Prison of Plastic ( “You don’t have to light yourself on fire just to keep everybody warm, Bear Trap.”)-Which means you don't have to do everything by yourself for its okay to ask for help from your friends or loved ones.This year in 2023, I want to focus more on myself and do what I love while dumbing down the negativity, stupidity and hate. I am putting the IRON foot down on it because it sickens me from the disgusting news on tv to hearing people spouting crap and cutting themselves down-OKAY! I hate that crap! These are my resolutions for 2023:1. Self-Care and Meditation 2. Publish my Poetry Book3. Continue growing my bonds with my loved ones4. Learn some new skills (TBD)5. Get back to trying to make buttons6. Get my one collection in the World Record Book7. Hone my writing skills8. Expand my knowledge9. Lose Weight10. Have the greatest Anime Milwaukee convention weekend ever11. Explore more of Downtown Milwaukee and ride the S.S. SullivanThat's what I have so far, I gotta remember to write it down in the morning with extensions to each one, but those are what came to mind while writing this post.2023 is gonna be a better year, and if any negative force tries to ruin it-they'll have to answer to me. Because starting today-A NEW CHAPTER begins, and I'm gonna make sure that the first day of the new year is decent even if I gotta bare my fangs and puff a little flame to put negativity and hate in their place if they try to rain on the first day of the new year. :wink:  Happy NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.9

Summary: Darkling’s secrets are soon to be unveiled, just in time for a trip to the Fold.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight  

=================================

The Darkling walked with a spring in his step. Residents of Little Palace have gotten used to his skulking in black keftas he wore like second skin. Never before had they seen him smile as much as he did on this particular day – as if he found the secret to happiness.

In truth, the Darkling refused to let himself hope for much. He simply hoped she’d allow him to kiss her now without receiving a death threat for it. It felt incredibly dangerous how foolishly addicted he is to his fickle wife. He never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her.

“General”, Fedyor joined him on his right, while Ivan silently took his left side. They both kept a reasonable distance from Kirigan, two steps behind at all times.

“What reason did you have to knock on my door this morning?” Kirigan’s voice is leveled, but his words are a death trap. There’s nothing more the general hates than his Grisha interrupting his private time – regardless if Y/N is with him or not. Unless there’s a burning issue at hand, he disliked being bothered unnecessarily.

“We’ve intercepted a few interesting stories you might like”, Ivan responds calmly, unafraid of his temperamental general. After all the years they’ve known each other, Ivan could read Kirigan’s mood easily. Despite his discontent, Kirigan is chipper for the first time in a long time. In fact, Ivan can’t even remember the last time his general was this happy...or happy at all.

“What kind?” Darkling asked, but his attention was undeniably divided as he caught sight of Y/N. 

She walked across the hallway with a purpose – determined to raise hell and he found it incredibly sexy. She paused for a moment, her gaze meeting his briefly. When she pursed her lips, his twitched at the corners – a smile starting to form.

“Sun Summoner kind”, Fedyor spoke in a hushed voice.

Kirigan’s smile falters, his eyes leaving Y/N’s. “Follow me”, he barked on order before walking in the opposite direction. 

All his life, the Darkling had been searching for the Sun Summoner. Every whisper of their existence turned out to be nothing but a fabrication, but something felt different now.

Once inside the map room, he leaned with his palms on the table. Kirigan didn’t say anything for a moment or ask for more information, but then his mouth moved on their own accord.

“Is it true?”

Glancing at each other, Ivan and Fedyor silently argued who should deliver the news.

“I asked you a question”, the general growled out, looking at them over his shoulder and the intensity of his glare had erased his earlier happiness.

“Nothing is confirmed yet, but we have quite a lot of accounts from the people surrounding the forest.” Ivan replied.

The Darkling made a sort of a grunting noise that Ivan didn’t know what to make of. The shadows covered the windows swiftly, engulfing the room in darkness as his left eye narrowed ever so slightly.

“The forest?”

Fedyor clears his throat, “Near the border.”

“Near the fold”, Ivan adds.

“I want”, he paused. Running his fingers through his hair, his shadows killed every source of outside light. “We need to prepare for a trip to the armies stationed at the fold.”

Nodding, Ivan looked to Fedyor and his deep-set frown.

“Are we to cross?” Fedyor asks.

The Darkling’s face is stone, his eyes unblinking. “Would it be a problem for you?”

Breath caught in his throat, Fedyor’s heart started to race. “No.”

“Good”, Kirigan remarked. “Prepare everything for departure in no more than a week.”

Sending them off, the Darkling sat in his chair. He wants so many things. His fingers graze his chin as he sighs – there would be no leaving without Y/N following. It’s not in her nature to do nothing and if she learns of the reasons behind his departure, he might lose her. The path of less resistance is to convince her the trip is to prove he’s honored his promise to her. He had sent the instructions yesterday and while she did force his hand on it, he didn’t hate her for it. If he’s bound for hell, at least it’s not a false one. She hates him, but she’s honest with him. He appreciated that.

Finding the Sun Summoner will change everything – for once, he will have a partner who can understand the weight of his past choices. He regrets too many things he’s done, but he was rarely given a choice. They broke the wrong parts of him, in the end, he showed them what happens when they laid a hand on those he cares for. That included Y/N now. If anything, she was a priority. Y/N is the only one he has left in this world.

While the Darkling pondered on the possibility of a Sun Summoner being true, Y/N sat in the library with a pile of books at each side.

The lingering effect of Aleksander’s gaze upon her and his devilish smirk had warmed her up in a way she least expected. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if time stopped or her heart did.

Shaking her head, she flipped the page in frustration. Her skin still burned bright from where he touched her. No amount of bathing can erase the fact she belonged to him now.

Swallowing thickly, she groaned. In all the books she had found, barely few had any information on the shadow summoner. Aside from Morozova creatures that serve as amplifiers, Y/N found mere mentions of a black heretic and the creation of the fold.

Her neck hurt, her eyes felt like they’re being pierced with needles and there was no saving her mind from all the theories she concocted. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed. Rubbing her eyes, she slammed the book closed before standing in frustration.

She didn’t want to love Aleksander, to risk her heart and life. She didn’t want to lay in bed, always afraid of what he might do if one day she’s not careful enough and he learns the truth. Naively, she hoped he’d either stand with her or just walk away but that’s not the Kirigan she knows. He wouldn’t forgive, it’s not in his nature.

Placing the books where she can find them in the morning, she headed to her room. Genya was kind enough to send a servant with lunch, but Y/N missed dinner entirely. Engrossed in books all day, she hardly felt any hunger.

At least not the kind of hunger food could satisfy.

Walking into the room, she hadn’t expected to find Aleksander sat at the bottom of their bed….shirtless.

Standing, he narrowed his eyes at her. “You weren’t at dinner.”

She raised a brow, “Wasn’t hungry.”

Kirigan crossed his arms over his bare chest, the movement making the muscles in his stomach flicker.

“Get dressed”, she quipped.

He smiled, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a mirror in every corner of this Palace, since you love yourself so much.”

He laughed wholeheartedly as she just turned away, clamping a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t let herself laugh with him. Every moment like this feels like the world is spinning, making her resolution fragile. She’s aching to let him in, but it would be a mistake. She feels it in his bones, he’s not honest with her.

Caring for a man like him is dangerous, like standing in the eye of a hurricane.

“We’ll leave Little Palace in a week”, Aleksander speaks, “Just as you asked of me.”

She stares at him, disbelief and joy colliding. And it’s the look in his eyes, the hopeful, terrified look in those dark skies that disarms her.

“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?”

Running the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, Aleksander takes a step closer. “You’ll ride with me.”

Pursing her lips, she nods without ever breaking eye contact. “And?”

A breathless chuckle passes his lips, “You’ll have to wear a special kefta. One that won’t let you get hurt easily.”

Taking a deep breath, she tilts her head up, “And?”

Suppressing a smile, he raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be equipped with a weapon of choice. I believe you’re more than familiar with guns as a soldier of the First army.”

Raising both eyebrows in response, she takes a step closer to him. “Swords”, she notes.

Humming, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for her to continue.

“I prefer swords”, she touched his face gently with the back of her hand.

“Of course”, he breathes out. A soft smile spreads across his lips, “Draw your swords if you see an enemy in sight.”

“Even if it’s my husband?” Her lips remain parted, her eyes flickering to his chest where she raised her hand to.

“I don’t care, as long as you keep yourself safe.”

She held her breath as his words resonated with her mind. How can he be so callous one day and then offer up his life for her to take. No game had ever made her question every single word that left someone’s lips before. Sometimes she’d look at him and see through the mask he shows the world and other times she couldn’t see anything other than her own reflection in his eyes as if his soul didn’t exist at all.

“Since when do you care?” She frowns, gnawing on the inside of her cheek.

Letting out a heavy sigh, his eyes flicker to the hand she splayed against his bare chest. Just the simple touch of her hand made him want more. It was becoming too hard to pretend he hates her. What he truly hates is how human she is – what is he supposed to do when her hair turns grey and he’s still young? How will he survive when someone takes her to exact vengeance against him? Will he be too late to save her then?

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you’re in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Aleksander, that person is Y/N.

Looking into her eyes, his hands cup her face, “Since I had to spend five days believing you’re dead.”

He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her he would never let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her. And he never wanted to.

“I thought you’d protect me?” She raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if the world tried to take her from him, the Darkling would wage war to make sure she remains by his side.

Blinking slow, a faint smile upon his lips, the Darkling tilts his head slightly to the left. “Would you allow it?”

There is nothing in the world he wanted more than to kiss her again, but this time around Aleksander decided to let her make the move. She is tender, but fierce. To understand a woman like her, one must realize that the former is who she is and the latter is what life demanded of her.

“Not likely”, she remarks and he throws his head back, chuckling.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she wets her lips in thought and he can’t help but think this is a well-designed trap for him to say the wrong thing and for her to use it as excuse to put distance between them rather than face her own desires and he was almost certain those desires included him.

“You want me”, he whispers in her ear as his fingertips slide up her spine and to the back of her neck, “And it’s killing you.”

“Physical attraction means nothing”, her voice is low, but unwavering.

Aleksander bites the inside of his lower lip in anticipation of her pushing him away and storming off, but even as he waits, he feels her hips press closer to him as if she’s telling him he won’t be left alone. Not again.

“Yet you’re here”, he grins. Tucking her hair behind her left ear, he admired how firm she stands in her opposition.

“So are you”, she quipped,. 

A cocky smile appears on his lips, tiny wrinkles forming around his dark eyes as he holds her gaze bravely, unwavering even when her gaze becomes a glare.

Biting her lower lip, contemplating the right move, Y/N could hardly fight her desire for him. Her head knew he it would be unwise, but her heart screamed at her to kiss him and those butterflies in her stomach felt more like killer bees as the need to feel him inside her had taken over every rational thought she generated.

One hand caressing his lean cheek, she gave into her primal instincts as she slammed her lips against his and Aleksander’s own heart leapt inside his chest. 

Their need for each other was urgent. Y/N grabbed a handful of flesh and muscle on Aleksander’s back. He gasped and laughed throatily at her haste. When her hands clawed at him again, he grasped both hands in one of his and held them over her head. She struggled to free herself, but he was too strong. When he entered her, she gasped, then moved her hips up to meet his.

He released her hands and she pulled him closer and closer to her. They made love quickly, almost harshly, before they found the sweet release they longed for. Aleksander collapsed on top of her, their bodies still joined as one when their minds gave in, slowly drifting to sleep.

Just like the previous morning, he remained in the bed, his arms wrapped around her tightly. 

She barely saw him during the day as the week progressed, but their nights were spent together – entangled mess of limbs, desperate moans and needy pleas neither held back. She’d close her eyes in his embrace and begin her day the same way.

“You don’t have much time”, Genya warned as Y/N dressed in haste. She decided to dress for the trip, it was the only way she could fit in a few hours in the library.

“I won’t be long”, she smiled at her friend.

Licking her lips, Genya took her by the hand. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

Y/N clenched her teeth, wondering if she should tell Genya. Something inside her warned against it – she didn’t tell anyone his name is Aleksander, feeling privileged to know such information. If she’s wrong and she can trust him, she didn’t want to poison anyone else with her doubt beforehand. A single book remained unread on her pile of very thick books she went through.

“Just trying to learn”, Y/N shrugged.

Nodding, Genya smiles, “In case we don’t see each other before you leave, I have to implore you to reconsider David as an ally.”

“I will”, Y/N promised and she would. Someone in Aleksander’s inner circle could be of use to her.

Going through the pages, she felt exhausted. Spending all her time in ancient books didn’t seem to be of use, but for once the text made sense. It spoke of the black heretic and the many names he’s been called in history.

“He walks the earth with a power only the saints could possess. They call him The Black Heretic, The Shadow King, The Starless Saint, Staski, Eryk, Leonid – numerous names that he exchanged for each lifetime he was given and by now it must be at least a few hundred lifetimes of darkness. His name – true name was lost throughout the centuries, occasionally heard as a whisper carried in the wind.”

Wide eyed, she read through the text of a scholar who described the Black Heretic and his powers, his entire lineage being his mother who remained unnamed and…him.

“He has no descendants?” Y/N’s lips quiver. If he has no descendants and his line begins and ends with him, how would Aleksander even exist?

Unless…

No.

It would be impossible, would it not?

“Numerous names that he exchanged for each lifetime he was given”, she reads aloud only to cover her own mouth in face of a startling epiphany. It was as she noticed the dark connection between the great mystery, the horrific realization set in.

“Pardon me, miss, but General Kirigan has sent for you”, a servant frightened her.

Taking the book in haste, Y/N stood on her shaky legs. Mouth dry, she pressed her lips in a thin line.

“Thank you”, she walked out so quickly, barely containing her quick and shallow breaths. Sweating profusely, she felt as if the black kefta she wore weighed down on her like battle armor.

Was it not her armor? Was this not a constant war she’s struggled with?

Aleksander…Kirigan…The Darkling…who is he?

“Are you ready?” Aleksander is waiting by the door with a small smile on his lips. His hand is opened for her to take, but she ignores it. If she took his hand, he’d feel the shakiness she’s trying so hard to steady.

Mounting his black stallion, she tucked the book safely inside her inner pocket.

“I’ll take the reins”, she informed him as he took his place behind her.

She heard him scoff, “I’m the general.” 

Is Aleksander even his real name?

Are the stories about him true? 

“On this side of the fold, so am I”, she gripped the reins and the stallion obeyed.

Riding a horse always helped her clear her mind, but this time it seemed impossible. 

When she married Kirigan, she believed she would marry an old, unattractive man…As it turns out, she got the old part right.

=============================

A/N - I’m not quite happy with this chapter, but I wanted to post today to keep my streak going. Also, i suck at writing a summary, like WHY IS THAT?! xD It’s Eid, so I’m tired and sleepy, forgive my grammar and prepare for things to heat up in the next chapters. Thank you all for sticking with the story and all the feedback, it honestly gives me life and will to keep writing. I also finally found the books in my native tongue, at least the Grisha trilogy and Six of crows duology and I’m really excited to dive into it and further my understanding of Darkling as a brilliantly written villain that is a multi-dimensional being with, let’s be honest, actually good points. I may not be happy about his willingness to commit mass murder, but I kinda see where he’s coming from and I really can’t wait to know more about the situation as it is in the books.  

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld​

PART 10

[mikeywaypic]

okay so since i'm starting this back up, i'm going to say some things!

I know... no one really cares... but i'd just like to let everyone know i'm changing some things and what they are.

so first off i am going to start crediting the photographer. i was kinda young when i started this and didn't really know that's something i should be doing (stupid). also, i won't be erasing or cropping out watermarks (very stupid, i am sorry for doing this). the problem is a lot of the photos are so old and a lot of the origins of the photos are gone because of deleted accounts, broken links, websites purging old photos, etc. additionally, many photos were saved on my computer but, the people who took them were not. so i will be trying my very best to credit the creator but in some instances, i will not be able to or i might get it wrong. I will always add them later or correct it if i, or someone else, do manage to find them!

also, I might be posting pictures I have already posted. I have no idea how i used to categorize them into the ones I have posted and the ones i haven't. it has been so long whatever it was, i don't remember. so this time it will be more organized than before but, there will be some repeats.

next, I will be adding the year, who's in the photo, and the photographer in the description, not just the tags. the year might be kind of difficult, so i might get it wrong occasionally. but if you know something i don't, tell me so i can go fix it.

I will also be adding image descriptions for the all pictures. i am new to writing those but i will try my best. so if you have a better description or advice to write them better, message me!

and then just some random things:

I have a twitter! follow me on there! i will be posting the same thing, more or less but on twitter.

I love when people submit photos, please do! but, try to find the best quality version of the photo and who took it.

we are adding jarrod alexander to the tags and whatnot, as he's literally in the band. doing the drumming.

i will fix the broken links soon but if you see any i still haven't fixed when it has been a while, let me know!

If you take any photos at the shows, I would love to post them (and credit you...). just submit them to me (please try to have them at the best resolution you can) or I can reblog your post if you message me the link.

i can (try to) help you find pictures, and i will try to answer any questions you have, message me!

i will be going back to queuing and sometimes posting pictures, i will try to mix it up with the era, so its not just new pictures but there will probably be a lot of new pictures.

i will be posting pictures of the whole band and not just cropping it to mikey

I might change things up depending on what needs to be and i can let everyone know. but i will not be commenting on everything and posting about myself and whatever. i find that incredibly annoying when picture and update accounts do that so. i won't be. I don't have a mcr side blog (maybe later) but i can give you my main if you want to talk.

tldr: i'm changing how i run this account and i'm glad to be back :)

[chevrolangels]

though the stars walk backward

#24: You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you, 4.1k

From this prompt list

For @princessjimmynovak​  This was requested approximately a million years ago and I finally finished it!! Happy belated birthday darling 💜

Feat. Space Ex-Boyfriends who are bad at talking to each other. So, canon. But in space. (Dean has always wanted to be an astronaut, lbr)

read on ao3

“New crop of cadets coming in today.”

“I know.”

Charlie bites into her apple, munching as she scans her screen.

“Hope they’re better than the last ones. Half of ‘em couldn’t tell the difference between a spectrometer and an ammeter.”

Castiel doesn’t comment. He’s too on edge to indulge Charlie today, so he just shrugs, swiveling his chair back in front of the control panel.

Everything’s on autopilot, like always, but he likes to check the nav-console by hand, every once in a while, if nothing but to prove his usefulness. Wouldn't do to have the computer shift a few degrees without anyone noticing and end up halfway to Alpha Centauri.

“I mean, what do they think we do up here? Run pretty tests for fun?” Charlie continues. “Like, one leak is the difference between life and death.”

Castiel makes a noncommittal noise and starts typing in the complicated sequence with his stylus, the starmap projected before him, their course pulsing with gentle blue light.

“I mean, they’re gone for all that time, least the Academy can do is make sure they’re prepared.”

Castiel bites his tongue, typing with perhaps a little more force than is necessary. He loves Charlie, but her ranting is really starting to get to him. Castiel might be the best pilot this side of the Pleiades, but hey. He’s only human.

“If they send me one more programmer who asks me how to do an abstraction, I’m going to―”

“Charlie, do you mind?” Castiel snaps. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

He regrets it immediately. Charlie does go quiet, but makes a thoroughly overdramatic roll of her chair into Castiel’s eyeline. She raises an eyebrow.

“Somethin’ you wanna share with the class there, bud?”

Castiel exhales, rolling his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just...need to focus.”

“...Right.”

A decidedly sneaky look crosses her face, one that Castiel knows spells trouble.

She leans forward, propping her chin up on her hands.

“Is it because you gotta do the whole ‘Captain Thing’ later?” She asks. “Shake hands, greet the greets, that whole deal?”

Castiel acquiesces.

“Partly.”

He quickly finishes the rest of the code and enters it into the nav-console, sinking back in his seat. Charlie purses her lips.

“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that the teaching staff is coming back, huh.”

Castiel keeps his face carefully neutral, even as he feels the back of his neck grow hot. He fiddles with the stylus in his hands, turning it over and over again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.”

Charlie taps her chin, looking thoughtful.

“What’s it been, two years?” She whistles, drawing it out. “Long time.”

Castiel just grunts. He should be getting up, to change into his uniform for the new batch of arrivals, but he makes no attempt to move.

“Dean’s coming back, too, right?”

Castiel snaps the stylus in half.

Charlie grins.

Castiel looks down at his hand, shoving the broken stylus into his pocket.

“If he is, I haven’t heard anything about it,” he says loftily. “And whether he does or not certainly doesn’t affect me.”

Charlie tilts her head.

“Didn’t they send the transfer roster last week?”

Castiel glares at her. She smirks back, giving him a cheeky wink.

Castiel abruptly pushes back from the console, standing.

“I have to go change,” he says shortly.

Once he gets to his quarters and the door slides closed behind him, Castiel sinks back against it, dropping his head in his hands.

Two years. Two years since Castiel chose to stay, and he chose to leave. Two years, of long lonely nights in front of the computer, of avoiding the Observation Deck, of throwing himself into his work. Two years in which Castiel thought he’d successfully ridded every last trace of Dean Winchester from his life.

After that night, Castiel had thrown away everything he’d ever given him. Every trinket, every gift, every scrap of paper―pathetic trophies of infatuation that Castiel had saved like a fool, pressed between the pages of his books.

The rest of the ship noticed, of course, because how could they not―Charlie, especially, had been particularly persistent in trying to get Castiel to tell her what happened. But Castiel resolutely refused to talk about him, and glowered sufficiently at any mention of his name that eventually people just learned to stop bringing him up.

But time marches ever onward, and the training cycle at the Academy is complete. The institution that Dean fled to in the first place is now spitting him back out, thrusting him back into Castiel’s life.

Castiel presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. How is he going to stand in front of nearly three hundred people and shake his hand? Just the mention of his name made Castiel want to throw something, bringing back all those memories Castiel tried so hard to forget. It may have been two years, but everything that made the man named Dean Winchester the best part of his life is still imprinted in Castiel’s memory, like a brand.

It’s times like this when Castiel wishes he could be like one of Charlie’s computers, erasing all information at the touch of a button. There would be no pain, no memories―like he had never existed in the first place.

Castiel exhales, looking down at his hands.

He’ll just have to make it quick. It really wouldn’t do for the captain to start a fistfight in front of the entire crew.

x

Roughly thirty minutes later, Castiel finds himself standing stiffly at the end of the receiving line of officers, the collar of his uncomfortable dress uniform cutting into his neck. Something must be off with the temperature regulators in the receiving deck, because he’s sweating, a few locks of hair slipping loose from his hat. He attempts to comb them back into place until Naomi hisses at him to stop fidgeting.

Charlie is beside him as Chief Engineering Officer. She cranes her neck above the crowd, looking at the small group that’s just disembarked from the transport ship.

“Showtime,” she says, adjusting her gloves.

Castiel closes his eyes briefly, breathing in. He can do this.

The new ones pass through first, freshly graduated, young and starry-eyed. Castiel can appreciate their eager enthusiasm. It’s important work they do here on the ship, and they need the best crew to make it possible. They shake his hand vigorously, hopefully interpreting his tight-lipped stare as stoic strength.

Then, the officers.

Hannah, who Castiel has always liked, gives him a warm smile and clasps his hands, telling him how much they missed him. Castiel agrees with the sentiment, but he can barely focus during their conversation, continually darting his eyes towards the end of the line.

The procession inches forward, painfully slow. Cain, Chief Military Strategist, is next, then Billie, and Linda Tran. Crowley, a truly despicable human being, but perhaps the most brilliant Flight Engineer Castiel’s ever worked with, passes with a slimy smile―and then, a face Castiel hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Captain Novak,” Sam says warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Castiel smiles back, unable to help himself.

“It has,” he agrees, taking his hand. Despite whatever may have happened between him and his brother, Castiel always liked Sam. “I can’t tell you how much we’ve missed you during your absence.”

Sam nods, dropping Castiel’s hand.

“Believe me, we missed it here, too,” he says, smiling. “You never know how good you have it until you have to spend time way out in the boonies.”

Castiel chuckles. He remembers. The time at the Academy might be necessary, but it certainly couldn’t be called comfortable.

Sam turns, indicating the cadets behind them.

“We’ve got a good group for you here, Cas,” he says, dropping the nickname with easy familiarity. “I think you’ll be happy with them.”

“Good to hear,” Castiel replies. “I’m sure they benefited from having you as a teacher.”

Sam shrugs, ever modest.

Naomi clears her throat from behind them, not-so-subtly encouraging him to move it along. Sam smiles and gives Castiel a small little salute, moving away.

Castiel sighs, tugging at his collar. To his left, he hears a low chuckle.

“Still hate that uniform, huh?”

Castiel stiffens.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

He slowly lowers his hand, looking up into the face he tried two years to forget.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says softly, smiling.

His eyes are bright, shining, like he wants to be here. Funny. Castiel seems to remember he went halfway across the star system just to get away from him.

He extends a hand, holding it out for Castiel to shake.

Castiel clears his throat, but doesn’t move.

“Dr. Winchester,” he replies stiffly. “Welcome back.”

Dean chuckles.

“Oh, right,” he says sheepishly. “I gotta call you ‘Captain Novak’, now, huh? Sorry.”

He looks up, that soft smile returning.

“Old habits, I guess,” he murmurs.

His hand is still extended, in the distance between them. Naomi must be practically foaming at the mouth at such a lack of decorum. Castiel couldn’t care less.

Dean looks exactly the same, perhaps a few more lines around his eyes, still that perfect shade of green. Dean's eyes always reminded Castiel of Earth.

Dean seems to be thinking along the same lines. He looks Castiel up and down, gaze lingering for a moment on the few locks of hair Castiel knows must still be stubbornly escaping from beneath the brim of his hat.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Dean continues. “Even after two years.”

“And three months, six days,” Castiel says coolly.

Dean’s smile fades a little.

“Right.”

He pulls back his hand, awkwardly picking at the edge of the hat in his hands.

Castiel’s heart is beating wildly, but he keeps his face still as stone. Dean shifts uncomfortably, then seems to make a decision.

He leans in, lowering his voice.

“Look, Cas, you know I always hated this formal junk,” he murmurs. “Can we talk later, maybe?”

He sounds so cavalier, so oblivious, and Castiel hates it.

“Catch up?” Dean asks. “Away from all these people?”

Castiel gives him his coldest stare.

“I don’t think so, Dr. Winchester,” he says sharply. “Running this ship is a full time job.”

Dean blinks, and he stares at him, looking like he’s just been slapped across the face. The monster of heartache and pain inside Castiel roars with a vicious triumph.

“I have enough on my plate as it is,” he continues dismissively. “I simply don’t have time to indulge every junior officer who wants to waste my time.”

He straightens, looking away disinterestedly.

“You’d do best to remember that.”

For a moment, Dean doesn’t speak, merely staring at Castiel, his mouth open in disbelief.

Then he remembers himself, and with a glance at Naomi, he stands up straight, placing his officer’s hat back on his head.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, lowering his eyes. “Well.”

There’s an awkward cough from Charlie to his left. Castiel ignores her.

“It’s good to see you, again, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “Really.”

Somehow, he makes it sound genuine.

He exits the platform, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Castiel watches Dean go an uneasy curl in his throat. The brief flare of vengeful satisfaction is already leeching away, leaving him feeling brittle and hollow.

Naomi is already busy shooing the officers into the reception hall, for the welcome banquet. Charlie finds Castiel’s arm and squeezes it, her eyes sympathetic.

“Cas?” She asks quietly. “You okay?”

Castiel clenches his jaw.

“Think I might have to get back to you on that."

x

Later, after the banquet, after three hours of restless tossing and turning, Castiel slowly gets up, not bothering with shoes.

Wandering the hallways used to be his favorite pastime. The quiet, the stillness. He still does it, on occasion, when he finds sleep isn’t easy in coming. The lights that try to mimic some semblance of a day and night cycle are dimmed low, the halls empty, most retired to their chambers.

Castiel makes his way up to the Observation Deck, taking a brief look around. There’s no one there, no one to spy on the captain of their ship, stealing away in the night for some much needed solitude. He walks the ramp to the very top part of the observatory, leaning his arms on the handrail. Castiel used to spend hours here. He would sit and watch the stars turn, feeling at once very small and very infinite. He sits now, staring out at the vast darkness before him. It’s utterly quiet, the electric hum of the ship the only sound in the gloom.

Unbidden, his thoughts turn to the last conversation he had here.

Castiel had just learned he had been chosen to be the next Captain, a highly selective process that he had stressed about for weeks. The first person he wanted to tell was Dean.

But Dean had come with news of his own.

A teaching job at the Academy. Highly prestigious, second probably only to Castiel’s role―but that meant―

“Two years,” Dean said to his hands, his voice flat. “That’s how long I’d be gone.”

Castiel felt his brief taste of happiness deflate like a suit after a spacewalk.

“Two years?” He echoed, his tongue thick in his mouth. Dean nodded mutely.

“That’s…”

Castiel bit his lip.

“Wow,” is all he managed.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered.

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke.

“So…”

Castiel hardly dared to say it.

“I’m guessing you knew that when you applied,” he said flatly.

Dean nodded mutely.

“Didn’t really account for you becoming the Captain,” he muttered.

Anger flared within Castiel.

“What, because you think I wouldn’t get it?”

“No!” Dean said immediately, looking up. “God, no, Cas, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I’m thinking a lot of things right now,” Castiel shot back.

Dean shut his mouth angrily.

“I guess...I guess it’s just hitting me how long two years really is,” he said finally.

Castiel sucked in a breath, stunned.

“You’re not serious,” he whispered. Dean dragged a hand down his face, avoiding his eyes.

“I don’t know, Cas!” He said, voice rising in the quiet. “I mean...you’ll have your job, Cas, I'll have mine...who knows if you’ll have any time for me―”

“Oh, I won’t have time for you?” Castiel repeated scathingly. God, he should have known, it’s just like Dean―shove the blame off himself and project it onto Castiel instead of owning his feelings like an adult.

“Just say you don’t want to be with me and get it over with,” he snapped.

“Cas…” Dean started.

Castiel couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Dean sighed, breath shaky.

“I―”

Castiel looked up.

He saw the look in Dean’s eyes and he didn’t let him finish. He didn’t let him break his heart.

He ran like a coward.

Castiel wipes angrily at his eyes, banishing the memory. He can’t change the past, so he might as well not dwell on it.

He looks up, at the wilderness of the stars. They shimmer gently against the blank expanse, his constant companions. Castiel can tell you the distance between Betelguese and Rigel, can calculate the time it would take to travel to Sirius and back, but he could never navigate his own life so surely.

If only humans could be as constant as the Heavens.

Behind him, the floor creaks softly. Castiel goes still.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

Castiel turns, glancing over his shoulder.

Dean is standing at the end of the platform, in his sleep pants and shirt. He looks so different out of his uniform. Softer. More like himself.

“Dean,” Castiel says, unable to stop the name from coming to his lips.

Dean responds with a bashful smile, one hand twisting nervously into the hem of his shirt.

“Figured I'd find you here."

He glances out at the stars, then back to Castiel.

“You mind if I join you?”

Castiel swallows, but looks away, saying nothing.

Dean seems to take that as permission, and sits, legs hanging over the edge of the deck, next to Castiel.

There once was a time when they’d sit close enough for their knees to knock, their hands lacing over the railing as Dean told stories, weaving grand tales of the constellations and their histories, while Castiel listened, enraptured.

Now the distance of that memory feels vast, lightyears away. They’re both quiet, not speaking a word. The silence is thin, fragile as glass.

“Cas―”

So Dean will be the one to break it.

He pauses, brow furrowing as he searches for words. Castiel bristles, waiting for it.

“Look,” Dean says, turning to face him. “I get it. You don’t want anything to do with me. But―”

“You’re right,” Castiel interrupts fiercely. “I don’t.”

Dean goes silent beside him. When Castiel finally musters the courage to look up, Dean is staring at him, hopeless and broken.

“Can you at least let me explain?” His voice comes out low and hoarse.

Castiel is torn. Half of him melts, seeing Dean so desperate. But the other half, the rational part of him that remembers the danger of falling for Dean Winchester cautions him, telling him the smartest thing he can do right now is walk away, and never open his heart again.

He lowers his head, exhaling heavily.

“I can’t,” he mutters. “Dean, I just…can’t.”

“You’re angry,” Dean says softly. Castiel scoffs.

“You’re damn right I'm angry,” he mutters. “And I don’t care about any half-assed apology you have for me, not now. Too little, too late.”

He moves back from the railing, pushing himself up. Tears are starting to come to his eyes, hot and bitter, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let Dean see him cry.

“Cas, wait―”

He reaches out, grabbing his hand.

Castiel freezes, rooted to the spot. Dean is frozen too, looking down at their joined hands. He doesn’t let go, though.

“Just...slow down, will ya?” Dean says, and there’s a hint of a laugh there, the way he always sounded when he would talk Castiel off the ledge. But now, it only ignites the rage inside him, and Castiel rips his arm from Dean’s grasp, whirling on him.

“No!” Castiel yells, shattering the silence. “You left, and you don’t get to do this now, you don’t get to come waltzing back into my life like everything’s fine―”

Dean’s eyes widen, he holds up his hands.

“Cas―”

“You broke up with me, remember?”

“No, I didn’t, Cas, will you shut up for two seconds and listen?”

Surprisingly, Castiel does. He blinks, slightly stunned at Dean’s words.

What is he talking about?

“Look,” Dean says quickly, probably to prevent Castiel from shouting again. “I only applied to the stupid Academy because Sammy was too―he was freaking out about the process, so I did it with him, just to show him it was nothing. He’s the smart one, so never in a million years did I think they’d choose me, too.”

Castiel crosses his arms, huffing under his breath. Even if he does hate him right now, it always hurts to hear Dean undersell himself.

“The moment I found out, all I wanted to do was talk to my best friend about how fucking scared I was.” Dean sighs. “And then you said you were picked to be Captain, and it all just...seemed too much.”

He looks down, twisting his hands.

“I panicked. God—somehow had it in my mind that the minute I told you you wouldn’t want to be with me, that there wouldn’t be any room in your life for me anymore. And seeing your face in that moment, you were so excited, and then it just slid off your face…"

Castiel remembers. Shit, he had been so happy, so proud—and when Dean told him…

He’d never been good at hiding his feelings, not with Dean.

He turns over their last conversation in his mind and all at once it seems to click, now that he knows what Dean must have thought.

“I jumped to conclusions,” Dean admits quietly. “I was...so afraid you wouldn’t want to do the long distance thing for two years so I….kind of...let you break us up before I could.”

Castiel stares at him, a painful bubble of emotion rising in his throat. Oh.

Dean continues.

“If anything, I wanted you to ask me to stay.” He lowers his head, dragging a hand through his short hair. “Which was wrong. I get that now.”

He looks up, huffing out a feeble laugh.

“Believe me, Cas,” he says lowly. “It took me all of about an hour to realize how badly I fucked up. But by that time the solar flares were surging and we had to go.”

Dean bites at his lip.

“I looked for you. I tried. But you had locked yourself away in a meeting and I didn’t get to say goodbye. You didn’t let me,” he finishes, a sad bitter note in his voice.

Castiel cannot speak, in shock. He never knew. He’d always thought...after that conversation, that Dean had left without so much as a glance back.

“You…”

He eventually trails off. He has no words.

Dean takes a tentative step forward.

“And you know what it’s like out there. The distances are too far, so they restrict communication.” He shrugs, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t try, though.”

“What?” Castiel asks.

“I tried to send transmissions back,” Dean says, rushing out the words. “Every day for a month. They kept telling me personal messages weren’t allowed. I even tried to break into the control center after hours.”

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, awed and horrified all at once. “You didn’t.”

Dean chuckles.

“Nearly got myself tossed out of the airlock for that one.”

His teeth return to his lip again, his green eyes hesitant.

“Sam said I was crazy. I just told him he’d never been in love.”

Castiel's throat goes dry.

They’d never said, not even before Dean left. But Castiel knew he was. Only love leaves that big and jagged of a hole.

“That’s why,” he says softly. “Why I never heard from you the whole two years.”

“And three months, and six days,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel bites his lip.

“Yeah,” Dean says softly. “I was counting, too.”

He sighs, spreading his hands.

“So, yeah. I messed up. And I get it if you never want to talk to me again, I just―”

Dean never finishes his speech because he doesn't need to. In three swift steps, Castiel has reached him and pulled him in by the front of his shirt.

Dean makes a soft noise of surprise as Castiel presses their lips together, but he quickly gets on board, pulling Castiel in by his waist, kissing him back. And he no longer needs to dream about Dean’s warmth, his lips underneath his, the dry rough touch of his palm coming to cup Castiel’s cheek. He’s here, and he’s real, and he’s never going to let him get away again.

Dean pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead against Castiel’s

“Damn,” he breathes. “I missed that.”

Castiel tightens his grip.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles. “So am I.”

He licks his lips, looking down at Castiel’s.

“I was an idiot,” he murmurs, and the sound rumbles through his chest. Castiel shivers.

“I should have just told you,” Dean finishes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yes,” Castiel says, bumping their noses together. “You should have.”

Dean laughs, and it’s possibly the most beautiful sound Castiel’s ever heard.

“There’s the asshole I remember.”

They both grin, just basking in their closeness, breathing quietly.

“So.”

“So.”

Castiel clears his throat.

“So, this whole time, we wanted to be with each other and we just...weren’t.”

Dean chuckles.

“Sounds like it.”

“Wow.”

Castiel shakes his head.

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

Dean laughs again.

“Sums up the last fifteen years of us knowing each other.” He reaches out tentatively, fingers brushing Castiel’s. “Don’t you think?”

Castiel smiles, turning his hand up so Dean can thread their fingers together. He knows they so much they still have to say, so much to catch up on to fix everything that’s broken between them.

By a backdrop of stars, Dean kisses him once more, and well, that’s as good a start as any.

[bananasmiles2952]

I'm aboutta post about the miraculous fandom again, but I'll hide it because it's gonna be a rant and that shit gets long sometimes <3

So, new episodes, new problems. I really love the way the show shows these ineffective methods of problem resolution and avoidance, and effective methods as well. You see, I am just going insane, frothing at the mouth if you may, at this whole "Alya knows who Ladybug is but Chat Noir feels betrayed because he is her partner first and ooops now he gets less action in akuma fights and he thinks Ladybug doesn't really need him anymore but actually she's just a scared little girl and adults are terrible" thing. Oh geez I'm gonna have to itemize all my points, here we go:

1. Alya knowing Marinette's identity is a good thing. It's a really good thing. I have mentioned in a previous post that these teenage superheroes are in a really bad position of extreme parentification and being forced to grow up too fast. Ladybug has seen her partner literally die several times!! She has seen entire sections of her city, sections she knew had people, leveled and flooded and burning and crushed to the ground, no sign of the life that was once inside them. She has had to lie pretty much every second of every day for more than a year, with the old guardian saying she should lie more and her kwami suggesting she lie less (about things that aren't about her identity) and it gets so confusing that now everything is a secret for Ladybug, because no one can know what's the truth about what she says and what's a lie, because if they know, then they'll know who Ladybug is and the world as she knows it will end. Now, that last take was irrational, but for a child with the weight of the world on their shoulders and that weight getting heavier and heavier every day? That's what she thinks she has to think, because any complacency would cost lives.

Alya knowing means less she has to think about, less she has to plan completely alone, and more confidence that she can handle this insane responsibility. Alya knowing means she can go back to being Marinette just a little bit more, and know that she doesn't have to be Ladybug all the time. Every aspect of her life has been taken over by this bullshit and that is traumatizing and exhausting, and she just went from zero support system to having her best friend back.

2. Chat Noir doesn't have to know who she is, and he is alright with being upset about it, but the right thing to do in that situation is talk to the person who is upsetting you and letting them know how you feel. Now, Chat Noir is an abused child. He has never been allowed to tell his father that his behavior was upsetting him (think internalizing reasons like, "he works so hard, he's probably too busy, and if I say something, then he'll just be stressed and busy"). It makes sense that he would transfer this thinking over to Ladybug, another authority figure in his life, not over him, but someone he knows to have a lot of responsibility. In his mind, if he tells her he's upset, it will only cause her stress and make her job harder because she has more important problems. But the thing about being an adult?? Just because you're busy and you're stressed and you're dealing with the weight of the world doesn't mean you are allowed to upset the people around you, even unintentionally. A healthy family for Adrien would have allowed communication, for his father to listen to him, even though he's busy, and to let him know that he understands and it's alright for him to be upset about something like that. And if he was using this framework for handling conflict, he would know that even though Ladybug has big responsibilities, they can talk to each other about their issues and reach an understanding. BUT let's move past his childhood trauma, there's more to talk about in this point.

Chat Noir is allowed to be upset, but internalizing it is bad, very, very bad, especially because he's a superhero. Gotta practice that healthy mindset when you need all your focus to defeat butterfly man. If he bottles it up and hides it from the world, his pain will grow and morph into something dangerous as it turns from sadness to anger. We've seen him lash out at a chimney, which shows just how much pain he's been hiding, since he's never been a person to lash out, especially not with violence. That scene was meant to make it obvious he's getting close to a point of no return, that he is so upset at the world that his method of holding it in is cracking and his anger is breaking loose. And from the new episode, we can see that he's now losing control of his ability to hide it, and Ladybug keeps seeing and keeps asking if something is wrong. And this is supposed to be a relief for him!! He's supposed to see her reaching out to see what's wrong and know that she cares and that he should tell her, because she'll want to fix it with him!! But his dad is shitty, so instead of seeing how much she cares, he only sees a warning that his mask is slipping, and he hurries to right it before running off.

The adult thing to do is talk about your feelings and problems, but they're kids, and for him at least, abused kids at that.

3. (told you this would be long) Chat Noir and Ladybug knowing who they are is different from Alya and Nino knowing who they are, by a lot. Alya and Nino are supporting superheroes, which doesn't mean they aren't as important as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but you literally can't get things done if you don't have a Ladybug. If Alya and Nino knowing who they are compromises them, there is so much less to lose. Hawkmoth getting their miraculouses means he gets more powerful, yes, but it doesn't mean the fight is over. Ladybug and Chat Noir would still be in the game, and they could still fix it. If Ladybug and Chat Noir knowing who the other is compromises them, there are 4 things at risk:

1. The miraculouses and the balance of the friggin' universe

2. The holders for their miraculouses would have to be replaced if they avoided capture

3. Now that Marinette is guardian, her memory and the safety of the miraculous box would be at risk.

4. Marinette would have to replace Chat Noir, and I don't think she can ever do that

If Shadowmoth could use their identities against them, there is so much more to lose. And Alya and Nino don't have the same weight on their shoulders that Adrien and Marinette have. I get why Chat Noir is upset they know each other, but the rules are different because the risks are different. And the pain this causes them is yet another reason this is parentification and abuse!!! Fuck Fu, you don't do this to children!!!!

4. Chat Blanc is some serious fucking trauma my dudes. Like, oh my god, Marinette touched her catacyslmed body aND WATCHED AT IT DISINTIGRATED BEFORE HER VERY EYES. She saw miles and miles and miles of what was a vibrant city under a sea of water, not a single living person to be seen. The fucking moon had a hole in it. And she saw the one person she trusts the most, the one person who know just what they are going through because they're going through it together, vulnerable, angry, and ready to destroy the world. And he said it was their fault, but we know Ladybug only heard that it was her fault. That if she hadn't slipped up and let him know her identity by leaving her name on a present, she could have prevented the loss of life of millions, potentially billions, and she could have prevented whatever pain caused her kitty to lose control and end the world.

It makes sense that she doesn't want anyone to know. It was her slip-up, after all, that caused the chain of events leading to Chat Blanc, the lucky charm proved as much with that eraser. And if she doesn't say anything about it, she can lie to herself and say it didn't effect her, because none of what she saw ever actually happened. But we know Chat Blanc haunts her nightmares, we knew that even before we saw her nightmare in Sentibubbler, and if she doesn't say anything about it, if she doesn't talk to a fucking therapist, she will break apart everything she is desperately trying to hold together. It would be easier for her to know that she is hurting people if they would tell her, like with Chat Noir refusing to talk about his need to be needed, but she doesn't know. And I think she wants, more than anything, to make sure it doesn't happen ever again by defeating Shadowmoth as soon as possible. If he's gone, there will be no one to turn her kitty into a monster, and she will have saved him and herself. If he's gone, she can finally let down all the walls. You can see her desperation to end everything by her crazy ladybug towel getup mad scientist lab experiment, and her desperate ranting and hurried rush for ideas, and her sadness at how close she got to getting rid of him in Sentibubbler as she watched him get away. She wants her kitty to know, and she wants him to be safe, but he never can be with Shadowmoth around.

[dwellordream]

“If any character in English popular culture stands for the sheep, it is Griselda. Her chief detractor is, not surprisingly, the shrew. In Robert Snawsel's A Looking Glass for Married Folks, Eulalie preaches the Griselda gospel to Xanthippe and Margery, urging them to bear their husbands' blows and drunkenness with meek loving kindness. This is too much for Margery: "Are you a woman, and make them such dish-clouts and slaves to their husbands? Came you of a woman, that you should give them no prerogative, but make them altogether underlings?" Margery's scornful reference to slavery goes to the dark heart of the Griselda myth. Folklorists have argued about the ancestry of the famous tale for more than a century. 

William Edwin Bettridge and Francis Lee Utley have made a strong case that Griselda owes her features to a folktale from medieval Smyrna called "the Patience of the Princess." A prince buys a poor girl from her father and lays a wager with her that she will not be able to submit to all his demands with utter composure. The prince shuts her in a tower alone and tests her for twenty years, repeatedly impregnating her and then taking away her newborn infants, telling her that he is going to kill them. She builds a mother doll out of clay to talk to and cry to but never loses her patience, and in this way she wins the bet. 

The tale, which matches the European narrative more closely than any other yet found, throws into stark relief the specter of female sexual slavery that haunts Griselda's story. The most striking variance between them is that the girl from Smyrna is sold into involuntary servitude by her father, whereas Griselda has a choice and agrees to voluntary and total obedience. Passing into European culture, the story came to Boccaccio. In reworking it for the Decameron he reclothed it in local garb, fashioning his novella partly in terms of Italian wedding and dowry customs that were sharply weighted against brides and wives. Boccaccio thought Griselda's story significant enough to give it pride of place as the last tale on the book's final day of storytelling. 

Petrarch read the novella and converted it to an exemplum in Latin for male scholars. Griselda entered English culture through Chaucer's "Clerk's Tale," which is largely based on Petrarch's version. Plays, ballads, and pamphlets on Griselda issued forth on the continent and in England throughout the early modern period, with a cluster of publications and performances in the mid- to late sixteenth century. Arguably the most radical change between versions occurred when Petrarch reworked Boccaccio. The Decameron's final tale is told by the satirist Dioneo, a crucial choice by Boccaccio. Refusing to let the happy ending stay happy, Dioneo spells out the political import of the story and caps it off with a horn joke against the marquis: 

Everyone was very happy with the way everything had turned out ....Gualtieri was judged to be the wisest of men (although the tests to which he had subjected his wife were regarded as harsh and intolerable), and Griselda the wisest of them all ....What more can be said here, except that godlike spirits do sometimes rain down from heaven into poor homes, just as those more suited to governing pigs than to ruling over men make their appearances in royal palaces? 

Who besides Griselda could have endured the severe and unheard-of trials that Gualtieri imposed upon her and remained with a not only tearless but happy face? It might have served Gualtieri right if he had run into the kind of woman who, once driven out of her home in nothing but a shift, would have allowed another man to shake her fur to the point of getting herself a nice-looking dress out of the affair. 

Scholars often downplay Dioneo's bitter words about pig-tending and his final putdown of Gualtieri, attributing it to his cynicism; but their labors to match the tale's disturbing sadism with an uplifting exemplary meaning are less than persuasive. The passage is much more than a glib throwaway, as Edward Fechter points out: "the climax angrily repudiates theological allegory and exemplum." Certainly, it seems fitting that the last lines of the last tale in the Decameron should recapitulate the Boccaccian theme of cuckoldry as female revenge. Dioneo's parting shot about "the shaking of the fur" is also an invitation to his listeners and the book's readers to come up with better interpretations than do the silly sheeplike courtiers of the tale, who judge "Walter wise and Griselda the wisest of all." 

Furthermore, it is a jest that asks for scornful laughter, especially from listeners who have grutched throughout the tale at Walter's arrogance, egotism, and sadism. Petrarch told Boccaccio that the story so fascinated him that he decided to spread the tale to scholars abroad. So "snatching up my pen, I attacked this story of yours." The angle of Petrarch's attack on the novella (which he termed "a little too free at times") becomes manifest at the cuckoldry-free conclusion of "A Fable of Wifely Obedience and Devotion," in which he erases Boccaccio's satire and his bawdy call for female revenge: 

This story it has seemed good to me to weave anew, in another tongue, not so much that it might stir the matrons of our times to imitate the patience of this wife-who seems to me scarcely imitable-as that it might stir all those who read it to imitate the woman's steadfastness, at least; so that they may have the resolution to perform for God what this woman performed for her husband ...Therefore I would assuredly enter on the list of steadfast men the name of anyone who endured for his God, without a murmur, what this obscure peasant woman endured for her mortal husband.

Petrarch's straight-faced version has none of Dioneo's political satire or irony. He is writing in Latin to male scholars, not in vernacular Italian to women and men, as Boccaccio had done. Nonetheless, it is Petrarch that Chaucer credits by name in the vernacular, mixed-audience "Clerk's Tale," although he departs from Petrarch in crucial ways. The Clerk does follow his source in insisting that his moral applies not to wives but to all humankind: This storie is seyd, nat for that wyves sholde Folwen Grisilde as in humilytee, For it were inportable, though they wolde; But for every wight, in his degree, Should be constant in adversitee As was Grisilde .... (I 142-47)

Chaucer actually intensifies Petrarch's warning that wives should not try to imitate Griselda, calling her example "inportable," or unbearable. (The Merchant, whose turn comes next, blatantly ignores this caveat, complaining "Ther is a long and large difference I Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience I And my wyf the passyng crueltee.") Still, scholarly attempts to align Chaucer's Walter with God do not work because Walter is described as "tempting" his wife, a word almost always associated with sin and vice. In another departure from Petrarch, Chaucer's Clerk breaks in several times to condemn the marquis. After Walter first decides to try his wife, the Clerk interjects hotly what neded it Hir for to tempte, and alwey moore and moore, Thogh som men preyse it for a subtill wit? But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit T'assaye a wyf whan that it is no nede, And putten hire in angwysshe and in drede. (45?-62) 

Chaucer's version subtly calls Grisildis's ovine quality into question. The lamb of God is Christ, of course, and Grisildis' meekness when her daughter is taken away resembles his suffering: "Grisildis moot al suffre and al consente, I And as a lambe she sitteth meke and stille" But "moot" she? Within English popular culture, sheep and lambs do sometimes stand for the positive values of resignation and endurance-for example, in emblems on patience. But there is no doubt that sheep generally connote passivity, cowardice, and stupidity. In terms of sheer frequency, the negative secular connotation overwhelms the positive religious one.

 A related complicating effect is the criticism leveled at "the unsad" (that is, fickle and sheeplike) people of the realm, who at first deplore Walter's acts but change their minds when they see the pretty new queen (actually his daughter), leading "sadde folk" to exclaim: "0 stormy people! unsad and evere untrewe!" As the Clerk finishes his tale, he shows that he is fully aware that not all his listeners will appreciate Griselda's virtues. With teasing wit he acknowledges the Wife of Bath, who has been called the tale's motivating force and dialogic counterpart. Just before the comic envoy he promises "for the Wyves love of Bathe" to gladden her "and al hire secte" with a song urging them to ignore Grisildis and revel in shrewdam (rr69-74). 

By shifting the Clerk's role from that of the preacher of a pious exemplum to a merry jester-singer, Chaucer undercuts his clerkly authority and blurs the moral legibility of his tale, already obscured by Griselda's lack of moral agency and her husband's viciousness. Nonetheless, Griselda quickly proved alluring to husbands, and she retained that allure despite proving highly problematic as a pattern for wives. Like the new husband in the jest about the pottage, men who wanted very much to promote Griselda as a model found her too hot to handle. 

In the training manual he prepared for his young wife in the 1390s, the Menagier de Paris offers a confused and troubled account of why he wants her to learn about Griselda. He rushes to assure his wife that he'll never torment her "beyond reason" as the "foolish, arrogant" Walter does Griselda, nor does he expect such obedience: I have set down this story here only in order to instruct you, not to apply it directly to you, and not because I wish such obedience from you. I am in no way worthy of it. I am not a marquis, nor have I taken in you a shepherdess as my wife. Nor am I so foolish, arrogant, or immature in judgment as not to know that I may not properly assault or assay you thus, nor in any such fashion. 

God keep me from testing you in this way or any other, under color of lies or dissimulations …I apologize if this story deals with too great cruelty-cruelty, in my view, beyond reason. Do not credit it as having really happened; but the story has it so, and I ought not to change it nor invent another, since someone wiser than I composed it and set it down. Because other people have seen it, I want you to see it too, so that you may be able to talk about everything just as they do.

What he really wants, it seems, is for his wife to be au courant. Griselda had "much currency off the page as a talking point in the late fourteenth century" and was "a subject about which wives might be expected to have an opinion." Codified as a way to get women talking (instead of shutting them up), the narrative about testing is itself a means of testing a woman's opinions and conduct. Is Griselda sick or stoic? Enslaved or free? Is hers a saint's tale, with Walter an abstract tool in the central mystery of her endurance, or is it as much a story about Walter and his court? Is he a cruel tyrant or a stern but loving husband with every right to test his wife? Is Walter God and Griselda a female Christ or Abraham or Job? All these positions have been argued during the six centuries of the debate.

Some recent readers still find Griselda admirable and even question whether she should be regarded as a passive victim. Harriet Hawkins has argued that Chaucer's tale should be read as a criticism of unquestioning obedience to authority, even divine authority, while Lars Engle hears "an implicit voice of sane moral protest" in Grisildis's mild objections to her husband. Such strained attempts at recuperation show that Griselda disturbs more than she edifies, raising but failing to answer questions about the limits of obedience in the face of tyranny and the conflict between Christian duty and wifely subjection.”

- Pamela Allen Brown, “Griselda the Fool.” in Better a Shrew than a Sheep: Women, Drama, and the Culture of Jest in Early Modern England

[cosmic-hearts]

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | epilogue

lee donghyuck x female reader 

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after. 

<< previous 

2 years later 

Fairy lights illuminate the darkened streets of Hongdae, and everywhere you go, you see groups of friends trooping about and couples huddled close together. For a moment, you feel a bitter pang of loneliness, conscious of how glaringly isolated you appear, but then you tell yourself that you’re walking with a purpose, and you’re not meant to be milling aimlessly about like these carefree youngsters around you. 

Just like it always has been. 

You remember when you were younger, you wished you could chill with friends in a cafe in Hongdae, the neighbourhood brimming with the vitality of youthful hearts. But you were always either busy studying or attending social functions, and you hung out more with adults than people your age. Of course, there was a time when you acted like a normal teenager for once; you went to a high school party, got stuck in a musty closet with a boy who had an angelic voice, and you got so wasted that said boy had to haul your drunk ass home. 

You went to cafes with him; he dirtied your favourite bag, but he got you a new one to make up for it. He sang you songs on the hood of his car, beneath the cloak of stars that sheltered you both. He took you to prom and told you that you were pretty; you had never seen him so shy before. He kissed you once, breathing starlight into your soul and fire into your veins. And he even gave you a song, wrote a melody into your heart that you find yourself humming occasionally, till this very day. 

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck as a gust of chilly air blows across your cheek, sweeping up the fallen leaves scattered across the sidewalk. All that’s left of the boy now are nothing more than bittersweet memories, a silent echo of what could have been. You don’t like to dwell on it too much; there’s simply no point. You’d stopped building castles in the air ages ago. 

But you’d never stopped hoping, with all your heart, that he’s finally managed to build his own castles for real. 

You cast a quick glance at your watch, jolting yourself back to reality; you had been sent by your parents to check up on the new branch of their fashion company they just had opened up at Hongdae. You are now slowly learning the ropes of running their company, getting ready to take over. You’re not sure if this is truly what you want in life—you wish you had Donghyuck’s firm innate passion for something—but for now, it gives you a vague sense of fulfilment, which is sufficient. Maybe one day you’ll find something of your own that ignites a spark within you and burns so brightly that you’ll have no choice but to pursue it in reckless, passionate abandon. 

As you walk with quickened steps and renewed purpose, the heels of your boots clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you begin to notice more and more buskers lining the street, each with crowds of people surrounding them. Most are dancing; there are a couple singers as well, and even a rapper at the end of the street. 

You’re about to turn the corner when a familiar melody halts you right in your tracks.

And it’s not just the melody; it’s that honeyed, saccharine voice you’d once thought was a celestial gift from the heavens. That voice you wanted to have on loop forever because it was too precious and beautiful to ever let go. 

Lee Donghyuck’s voice.

True enough, he sits on a high stool a few feet away, eyes closed as he sings to a small crowd around him. But he looks so immersed in his own little world that you think it’s more likely he’s singing to himself rather than performing to anyone else.

Bathed in the vivid glow of passion and completely in his own element, moonlight irradiating the planes of his face, he’s just so beautiful.

He has glossy purple hair now, and it’s tucked messily under a black cap. His fingers are closed tight around a mic in his hands as he belts out the lyrics to ‘Beautiful Time’. 

Your song. The song he wrote just for you. 

Hearing it live is truly a surreal experience. Your hands tremble slightly; you clutch your bag just a little tighter.

It’s all worth it, and you’re so glad. Seeing him like this, you know you made the right choice back then.

The song ends, and everyone breaks out into applause. It is just like that day in the cafe, when Donghyuck sang and everyone fell right under his spell, entranced by the sound of his voice. 

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says bashfully, smiling at the floor and rubbing his neck. “Actually, I wrote this song for my friend. It’s been really long since I last saw her, and… well, I really miss her.”

Your heart just about stops right there. 

“I was about to give up singing, but she was the one who persuaded me not to. And I’ll be forever grateful to her for that.”

“I hope that wherever she is, she’s happy, and I hope she always will be.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek; you wipe it away hastily. 

“All right,” Donghyuck says, grabbing the mic again. “It’s time for the last song of tonight. I hope all of you will enjoy it.”

You want, more than anything, to stay and listen to this last song, but you know that once you do that, you won’t be able to move on with your life and do what you’re supposed to do. You’ll fall in too deep, and there will be no escape this time. Donghyuck’s voice just has that power over you.

No, Donghyuck has that power over you.

So you clutch resolutely onto your Prada bag, steal one last longing look at the boy who’s held your heart hostage, and walk away.

—

Donghyuck’s about to start the last song of the night when he notices someone lurking at the edge of the audience, turning away to walk off, presumably to the next busker.

More specifically, he notices the bag the person is carrying; it is filled with pastel hues of pink, purple and blue, with a shiny triangular Prada logo right smack in the centre. It is all too strikingly familiar. 

Because he chose those colours himself. And he chose the customised design, which means that the bag can belong only to one person.

A surge of adrenaline pumps through Donghyuck’s veins; he gets up from his stool and takes off into the night, startling the little crowd around him. But he could care less.

The past two years, he’s never stopped thinking about you. He’d broken up with Sohui shortly after the prom he took you to, and he was planning to tell you just that on the night of your birthday. That you two didn’t need that stupid contract anymore, not when he thinks his heart might have finally found its home. That when he kissed you, it was like the stars aligned and he felt constellations erupt in the universe of his soul. That he was sorry for ever hating you, and he’d make it up to you in any way you wanted. But then you abruptly ended it all, cutting off all forms of contact with him and destroying all the castles he’d built in the air.

He figured you probably would never feel the same way as he did.

But that didn’t stop him from writing, singing, and dreaming about you. After all, you told him to chase his dreams, and he wouldn’t stop doing that, not for the world.

And now, you’re right there within his grasp. He’s not letting you slip away from him again.

It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you. Before you can walk any further, he grabs your wrist and you whirl around in response.

It’s really you. You look just as ethereal as ever, with your hair a moonlit cascade down your back, eyes sparkling like stars amid sundown.

“Y/N,” he breathes, just as your eyes widen at the sight of the boy you’d resolved to erase from your life standing right before you.

And it is at that moment that the castles in the air come alive.

—

a/n; aaand that’s a wrap!! tysm for all the support and the comments hehe <3 i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it !! peace out, stay safe and healthy yall ^^ till next time :) 

[annalyticall]

Anime Newbie in her Twenties Ranks her First 10 Anime

With the recommendations of my sister @ging-ler​ and friends, I started watching anime just over a year ago and within that time I’ve watched a total of 10 - some clocking in at almost 200 episodes and some with only 12. I told myself a while ago that once I had finished 10 anime shows I would rank them like some Anime Newbie WatchMojo list, so, here we are. Really this is just an excuse to force more of my unwarranted opinions onto unwilling followers.

I should also preface this by saying I don’t think any of the anime I watched this year was bad, and I enjoyed a lot about every show even if I ranked some low. However, the top three anime on my list are the ones I would recommend to anyone following me even if they don’t watch anime.

10. Death Note

Despite absolutely loathing the “protagonist” since episode one, I really enjoyed the first half of Death Note! The story was intriguing with all of its wild twist and turns and I found myself immediately invested in what was going to happen next. Unfortunately, after the death of who I thought was by far the best character, the show seems to go off the rails as it introduces new characters and contrived plot devices in the second half that were frankly hard for me to care about at that point. The ending was satisfying but I forced myself to sit through a lot of painful meandering to get there.

9. Cowboy Bebop

Cowboy Bebop was the first anime I watched as suggested to me by @mcsherrybr​. The smooth and jazzy art, atmosphere, animation, action, and music were all a lot of fun, as were the lovable ragtag group of misfits that made up the main cast. I enjoyed myself a lot while watching this western/sci-fi melding pot of a show, and I only ranked it so low because the last few episodes were a huge disappointment to my found-family-trope-loving heart.

8. Violet Evergarden

Violet Evergarden, following the story of a child soldier learning to love, is absolutely beautiful to look at and listen to. The music in this anime is, for me, THE best music from any show on this list. This is also the only anime that made me sob several times while watching it. The collection of short episodic stories that explore the deep facets of human love and connection are incredibly resonant and will stay with me for a long time. However, the strength of the small story arcs made the rushed overarching war story and finale weaker in comparison. Similarly, the memorable characters introduced in the one-off side plots were more interesting to me than the cast of rather bland reoccurring supporting characters. While I will remember a lot of great individual moments, I can’t seem to remember a single character’s name besides Violet’s, but that might also be due to being one of the shorter entries at only 12 episodes.

7. Hunter x Hunter (2011)

Going from one of the shortest anime on this list to the longest, Hunter x Hunter was an great and engrossing story during the entirety of its 160+ episodes. It’s colorful and playful, but can also be very dark and at times even heart-wrenching. Because it contains so many distinct arcs, there is a wide variety characters and stories to get attached to, and some, like the Chimera Ant Arc, I even cried over. But this also left me with issues regarding the pacing. The show has great action and introspective moments but will often drag with long drawn-out pauses between fights to explain simple concepts (though I understand that’s a common trope in old shonen anime in general). The world-building is rich but also caught me off guard with some strange ideas, and admittedly not all of them I liked. Some eccentric characters and concepts rubbed me the wrong way and ended up hindering my enjoyment of the show. Overall though, it was a lot of fun and I left with a few more endearing favorite characters, like Leorio and Killua.

6. Erased

Also a 12 episode anime, Erased was amazingly impactful for how short it was. Even as I followed the unfolding murder mystery, I was also touched by the meaningful themes and kind-hearted characters I met along the way. The already-strong story is accentuated with great symbolism, art, and music. The only problem I had was with the mystery itself; I was able to tell who the true killer was within the first 4 episodes, which didn’t lend itself well to suspense and I spent the remaining episodes frustrated that the main characters couldn’t see some obvious clues.This is a minor problem, though, since the finale has less to do with mystery and more about the morals and resolution of themes that I felt was satisfying.

5. Demon Slayer

Demon Slayer is gorgeous. The stunning art style, fluid animation, and breath-taking music are all valid reasons to watch it, but the main character Tanjiro and his unwavering devotion to find a cure for his sister-turned-demon Nezuko are the reasons to stay. Tanjiro is unbelievably gentle as he shows even the evil demons he has to slay a hard-fought kindness, and it’s those tender moments between all of the amazing action sequences that really elevate this show for me. The issues I have lie with the rest of the cast. While I love some supporting characters, like the pig-headed Inosuke and the stoic Giyuu, others have very niche personalities that can get annoying if they’re on screen for too long, which they definitely tend to be. Still, the bond between Tanjiro and Nezuko is so strong that it gets me through even those dragging scenes.

And it’s written by a woman!

4. My Hero Academia

Hey so this might come as a shock for anyone who’s followed me for a while: My Hero Academia is not my favorite anime! I do love it a lot - it’s the only anime on this list that has inspired me to read the manga, write fic, and buy merch. There are so many lovable characters and exciting arcs in this show that there is bound to be something for everyone to enjoy, both inside and outside of canon. It’s a wonderfully paced and animated deconstruction of the superhero genre and besides its deeper themes and commentary, there’s also just a lot of endearing teenage goofin’ to be had, and the show balances the tone of these two almost-equally engaging aspects of the story fairly well.

The downside, for me, is the show’s sexualization of female characters, especially the teenagers. With the likes of pervy fellow classmate Mineta, it’s a flaw that’s hard to avoid and takes up an unfortunate amount of screen time. There are in-universe characters that protest against this behavior, and the female characters are still well-written for the most part, but that doesn’t make up for the canon material including it at all. It’s not a huge part of the show but it’s present enough that it really knocks the ranking down for me.

3. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Out of my top 5, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is the only one that is complete. Because of that, I can tentatively say that so far, it is the best completed story on this list. From beginning to end, the pacing was perfect - the action never dragged, the characters were never unnecessary, and the plot twists were never unearned. I found myself more invested than I thought I would ever be for the large cast of characters, and everything, including its ending, was satisfying to watch. The animation is fluid and lent itself well to the most impactful scenes, especially involving the flame alchemist Roy Mustang. It’s also written by a woman! Really, the only nitpicks I have were with tonal problems - serious moments would sometimes be ruined by too much slapstick or visual gags.

As I mentioned before, my Top 3 are shows I would recommend to anyone who’s unfamiliar with anime simply because they’re good solid stories with almost no distracting anime tropes. This is a good place to start.

2. The Promised Neverland

The Promised Neverland is deceiving; on the surface it looks like a sweet show about a bunch of adorable kids playing together in the spacious green backyard of their quaint orphanage. Once you finish the first episode, however, you will quickly discover that there is definitely something more sinister lurking under the surface. This show is an expertly executed dark horror/thriller that always had me on the edge of my seat. The cute aesthetic never distracts from the suspense, in fact, it adds to the discomfort when the horrific visuals and expressions are contrasted against the character designs. I loved all of the characters, including the antagonist, who manages to be just as sympathetic as she is menacing. The sound design and music are also beautiful and adds so much to the rich atmosphere. I am definitely excited to see where this series will go!

1. Mob Psycho 100

ONE, the creator of Mob Psycho 100, said the single word he used for the concept for the series was “kindness”. Kindness shines through so much of this story following the life of Mob, a super-psychic kid that just wants to fit in, and I adore every second of it. While many shonen anime stories force the child protagonist to get stronger, become more powerful, and fight in battles against hostile adults, Mob Psycho 100 says “that’s stupid. Kids shouldn’t have to be traumatized by immature power-hungry adults. The only strength that anyone should pursue is strength of character, motivated by self-love and love for others.” And it says it with the most beautiful animation I have EVER seen in a show. The simplistic character designs mean the animators can have as much creative freedom as they like with expressions and movement, and they absolutely use that freedom. Humor is a large part of this mostly-comedy anime, but it makes the serious and introspective scenes so much more important when they do happen. The shifts between these two tones never feel awkward or imbalanced.

Mob Psycho 100 has inspired me to become more experimental and joy-seeking with my art, as well as just become a better person in my own life, which I can’t say for many other anime or many other pieces of media period. Even though a Season 3 hasn’t been officially announced yet, I can still safely say Mob Psycho 100 will forever hold a special place in my heart.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 21 OF 22

—The heartbeat is actually the sound made by the heart valves closing. If you, my love, ever hold a stethoscope to my chest I will tell you to listen for the silence in between. What is and what will always be yours is the sound of my heart finally opening.

- "Letter to the Editor", Andrea Gibson.

--

interlude ii

--

In the span of time between understanding and acceptance, Theo half-writes a million letters, all of them suffering the same kind of fate: undelivered. The email gets deleted, the text erased, the sheet crumpled, set on fire. There are too many words he doesn’t have the courage to say, and fuck, he’s not a literature major, after all.

He’s only the arrow shooting forward, not the bow pulling back towards itself.

But every second he spends lost in the memory of her leaves him splitting open, so for the first time in what feels like centuries, he unfolds what he’s kept in his heart the size of his clenched fist. Allows its beating space to unravel. And when he doesn’t have the vocabulary to put it into words himself, he borrows—borrows from others until he finally finds the ones that will feel just right tell.

Until they’re finally just right to tell.

The first letter he ever writes her, he composes outside the gallery of his brother’s exhibit, on the opening day. He’s crouched on the stone steps with a book in his hand, a little poetry book Arthur had dropped by for him earlier that day. For what, the bastard refused to say, but he had that look on his face that Theo hates: that Arthur knows exactly what he’s doing it for.

The first of his letters are spiteful, the words he borrows barbs, promises he doesn’t intend to keep when he rewrites,

I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year

onto a sheet of scratch paper, one he ultimately throws into a bin before he’s even felt like he’s begun writing anything.

He gathers his heart a little closer for the second one, highlighting a verse in shaky yellow while he’s on a bus ride out of town, on the exhibit’s closing day.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.

But it is not enough. And even after that, there are an innumerable number of letters that still are not enough. He borrows from everyone he’s learned from her: Shakespeare, Frost, Whitman, Dickinson; he borrows from new names, Allan Poe, Silverstein, Neruda, Keats, Siken; he borrows from poetry, from fiction, from plays. From philosophers, from writers, from artists. The words never seem to be enough to cross the gap between what he’s said and what he should have.

He writes the ten-thousandth letter with his heart beating in his chest so loudly he can barely hear his breath,

And I lean down towards you with muscle and wing, as if to a grave stone, (I put the years to sleep)

my lips seek yours... like spring.

longing, the sear of it, the idea of having touch so warm under his skin the world feels all too cold. He misses her like he would a lost limb. He reads the poem over, and over, and over again until he cannot deny it, and when he does not have the will to deny it he sets it on fire, instead.

Arthur asks him why he’s making it so much harder on himself, asks him why he’s putting himself in all this agony for nothing—Arthur talks like he knows everything. And maybe he does, the fool that he is. “Just call her,” the flirt says, “Call her from my number, send her a message—" But Arthur doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know what it felt like in that rooftop, the words hanging in between him and her, unsaid, said, told in their heads—but never out loud, not enough to make it come to life.

To make it real.

To make it seem like Theo isn’t just writing a story in his head.

One where she’s only an unwilling participant.

Letters are the one thing Theo can hide behind, besides poetry. He can pour his entire heart in that little sheet of paper, tell her all that he wanted to but never could—send it away, and then not have to wait, expecting a response. He considers it the same as writing a message, stuffing it in a bottle, and then throwing it out in the open sea. It would be great if she finds it. It would be great if she’s moved enough by it that she writes back, that she forgives him, that she continues to wait for him even if she’s already so far away.

If only he could get it right.

The millionth letter doesn’t make it past his desk. He hears the poem from a phone in the bookstore: two literature majors reading from a book on the shelf, reciting the lines, Theo barely hears it over their gasps, but when he does he scrambles to put it into writing, thinking, this is it, maybe this is the one that’ll get me across, says,

It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, Or nagged by want past resolution's power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, Or trade the memory of this night for food.

takes the pen in his hand and nearly tears the page when the poets say:

It well may be. I do not think I would.

Theo is on his headphones for the rest of the afternoon, hiding in the stockroom stacking books.

He sits and negotiates, negotiates, negotiates with himself over and over again, like this was a case, like this was a business deal, instead of something else, something that’s less rigid, less in-boxes, one without protocol. Arthur tries to talk him into it. Vincent tries to talk him out of it. In, out, of what, Theo doesn’t know anymore, their voices fading into the back of his mind when he begins to really think about this.

About her, about her hands.

About his.

Sometimes, at night, in bed, before I fall asleep, a poet once wrote, I think about a poem I might write, someday, about my heart.

Theo does the same.

Much to his dismay, however, the world does not fall in around him, does not close him off from the outside world no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much it seems like that’s what ought to happen. The semester rolls on. The exams are still hard. The Halloween Party is still the same talk of the university as it did a full year ago, like the world hadn’t turned upside down for him since then.

The universe had even granted him the most effective way to wallow in his pain, the new girl in their little friend group (the one he was only in because of her) whose heart was a mirror of the girl he’d loved. Why is it that those that do so poorly in romance tend to flock together like recognizing the uneven parts of themselves? She is drunk and talking about someone else, but when she speaks about letters the same way she used to, something in Theo’s heart cries out.

Too bad he still doesn’t have the words.

The closest Theo gets to what he wants to say comes in the form of old memories, a scribble of a haphazardly written note on a piece of clean café napkin, in her handwriting, no, there’s no mistaking it. Heart by heart, Louise B written in familiar cursive. A note from a lost time slipped in a returned book, perhaps on purpose, perhaps on accident. He turns the search terms over and over until he finds it, a rush of air exiting his lungs when he gets to the end:

Now that I have your heart by heart, I see The wharves with their great ships and architraves;   The rigging and the cargo and the slaves On a strange beach under a broken sky. O not departure, but a voyage done! The bales stand on the stone; the anchor weeps Its red rust downward, and the long vine creeps   Beside the salt herb, in the lengthening sun.

Now that I have your heart by heart, I see.

But he doesn’t hasn’t ever had it, not since she’d left, so he doesn’t send it.

Theo doesn’t cry. There is no reason to, he thinks to himself, nothing to be upset about, not when it’s him holding himself back, when this was all his fault. He only sits quiet, repentant. He doesn’t make any mention of her, and when she is mentioned, he doesn’t say a word.

What worth are words now?

This goes on for weeks. And it seems like an eternity later when Vincent catches him sitting in the dining room with that same idle look on his face, that same dull expression, he steps into the light of the older brother Theo has always seen him to be, the older brother he’s always hoped to be—and puts a hand on the shoulder of his lost younger brother, eager to lead him home.

“Theo?”

“Broer.”

Vincent’s voice is soft. Patient. “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t have the words for… this,” Theo says, gestures vaguely at his heart, like pained. “I don’t know where to look for them anymore.”

And his brother smiles like he knows all the answers. (Theo believes Vincent has all the answers.) “There is poetry everywhere, Theo," he says, sounding awfully like her, "Your eyes are focused on the wrong things.”

Like a flash of lightning, he hears it: in the lilt of her voice, the tinkle of laughter, her voice like thunderclouds rolling over a sunlit summer. The poem that found him, instead of the other way around.

You.

Theo immediately goes out to find fancy stationery he knows she likes and gets his best fountain pen and writes; the weight of honesty pins the words solidly onto the parchment. Theo had not known metaphor until that moment, had not understood what it meant when whatever a sun will always sing is you was written, until—

Until it was his heart that was chanting it.

And the day after, he delays the inevitable: seals the letter with glue, sticks a stamp on the upper right corner of the envelope. Theo slips it into the to-mail box without a word, and then exits the post office like he hasn’t left his heart there for sending.

[marlinspirkhall]

Tomorrow Never Comes, Chapter 05: “Resolution”

CW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Chapter Word Count: 2,298 words

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

 “Tell me everything you learned when my memory kept getting wiped,” Jim says.

 “There is not much to tell. Leland and I attempted everything you and I have-” seeing Jim’s face, he pauses. “It was not a waste of time. Failure on the first attempt does not preclude the possibility of success on the second”

 The news that he was murdered multiple times hasn’t sparked any grand realisation as of yet. Mostly, it’s just made him angry, but he tries not to show it. Despite the recent realisation that their dilithium crystals have begun to drain, noticeably- confirming that they will run out, eventually- they sit side by side in a tense silence as the shuttle whizzes through space. Jim taps his fingers on his side of the dashboard, and turns to Spock.

 “Stop here; I want to try something.”

They land on the same planet as their first outing; but on a different beach, with actual sand.

 “For variety’s sake,” Jim says, with a slight smile.

“Variety,” Spock says, dryly, as they approach the shoreline. “I must admit; I thought you brought me here to kill me.”

“You- what?!” Jim wheels on him. “And you just- got in the shuttle?”

Spock tilts his head. “At the time, the reaction did not seem disproportionate.”

“Right.” Jim sits down on the sand, and looks up at him. “And now that you’re about to be- ah- executed?” He squints as he leans back, temporarily blinded by the iridescent sand.

Spock says nothing, and sits on the sand, a short distance from him. A strong breeze picks at strands of his hair, and Jim sighs.

After a moment, the sun begins to descend, and Jim looks up. “This is what I like about space travel. Even the sunset isn’t a fixed phenomenon. Theoretically- if you wanted to- you could manipulate it. Park your spaceship in a different position on the planet’s surface, so you could view it as many times as you liked. It’s not always spontaneous. But, if you’re really lucky, you get to experience this, with someone you-” he stops.

 “What?” Spock asks, quietly.

“Care about,” Jim finishes, softly. He clears his throat. “I mean, how many other people do you think have got to witness this exact view?”

Spock considers for a moment. “The Klingons,” he says, firmly.

 Jim laughs. “Spock, I-”

 A twinkle catches his eye.

The purple sunset dissolves into the vast tapestry of night, and, as the sand twinkles out, the sky itself becomes a glittering canvas. At the last moment, Jim turns to him, as the last embers of sunlight illuminate his hair.

“So, what do you want to do?” Jim whispers. “Do you want to chase the sunset? Have another go?”

Spock rests his head against his shoulder, and almost smiles.

As the days pass- or, don’t pass- they continue their attempts to escape. Sometimes, it looks like they might be getting somewhere- as far as they can while still avoiding Klingon space- but, at some point every morning, no matter how far they go, the clock resets. Heirin pulls them backwards like an elastic band, and they wake up back on the planet.

 “How far did we make it this time?”

 “Five point nine light years further than our last attempt.”

 Jim grits his teeth. “Then we should try going in that direction. Maybe we’re onto something.”

*

For the most part, the Iclixi have remained neutral in the Klingon-Romulan-Federation conflict, and, as a result, not much is known about them. Still, one thing is clear: they don’t like visitors.

“So, that’s why Leland asked me about base ten,” Jim says, breathless, as an asteroid explodes behind them. Escaping death has lost its excitement in some ways, but fleeing missiles- that’s fairly new.

Spock nods stiffly, his eyes locked on the controls, and Jim begins to use his own console to hack into the Iclixian database.

“Base six,” Jim murmurs, as he surveys the structure of the numbers on his console. “If it’s true that that these guys have four arms, then they must only have two digits on each hand.”

Spock runs a hand through his hair. “Jim-”

“I know.” Jim begins entering numbers frantically, and looks up. “What happened the first time you were here-?” The shuttle veers to the left.

Spock’s eyes dart to him, then back to the viewscreen.

“- Right.” Jim types faster. “Well, if I’m right, this should make us blind to their sensors.” And, if he’s wrong, they’ll find themselves back on Heirin.

With no memory of this.

He slams a button down at the same moment Spock pulls the shuttle into a nosedive. Outside the back window, the two missiles continue on a straight path, directly ahead. Jim waits with baited breath, but no more missiles are deployed.

He collapses back in his chair with an exhausted whoop.

They make their way through the rest of the Iclixi system without further disturbance, and Jim’s eyelids begin to droop.

 “How long have we been awake?” He yawns.

 “Twenty seven hours and… thirteen minutes,” Spock replies.

 Jim pats him on the shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep first?”

“Negative. Vulcans-”

“Require less sleep than humans, I know.” Jim rises, and curls up at the back of the shuttle, with a tired smile. This time, he thinks, as he drifts off, we might actually make it.

 Jim rolls over, and snuggles into something soft. He feels well-rested.

 Which only means one thing.

 His eyes snap open, and he sits bolt upright. “Spock.”

He rushes to the main bedroom, and throws the door open. The room is much more orderly than it was before. Spock opens his eyes, and sits up suddenly,

“Jim?” He reaches for him, frowning. “I did not fall asleep-”

“I know,” Jim murmurs, “But what happened? What’s the last thing you remember?” He takes hold of Spock’s hands, and kneels on the edge of the bed, checking him over- although, of course; there isn’t a scratch on him.

“I… blinked,” Spock realises.

Jim slumps.

 They can’t take shifts blinking.

*

As they begin to search for alternate routes through Klingon space, Jim finds something which he’d previously overlooked.

 Boreth.

‘There’s a planet in the Klingon empire called ‘Boreth’ which is the only place in the known universe to contain a mineral known as ‘poH qut’. Translated to Standard, it means ‘time crystal’.’ Jim had never heard of them before, but the more he reads, the more familiar it sounds. For the most part, research on them is scarce, but there are isolated reports- mostly anecdotal- of users becoming trapped in time loops, triggered either intentionally or accidentally. In both instances, though, the loop is triggered by the spilling of innocent blood.

Jim cross-references it with any references to poH qut in the Klingon databases, only to come up short: the Klingons abandoned all experiments with time crystals centuries ago, and the ones which remain on Boreth are closely guarded by an order of monks. There is something, though. Rumours that one of the experiments resulted in a time crystal being hidden at the very core of a planet, before

“...But, even if there is a time crystal at the heart of this planet, that doesn’t help us,” Jim muses. “We don’t have the equipment to locate it or dig it up.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, and says nothing.

 Jim claps him on the shoulder. “We’ll find a way out.”

*

 Jim’s desperation only increases as things begin to break around the stronghold. For the moment, it’s mostly small, minor electrical errors- a wire needs reattaching on an upper wall, one of the consoles in the server room stops working, but there are plenty of backups- for now.

 They run into problems whenever something needs replacing. They salvage a couple of items from the basement, but the only replacement bulb they can find for the downstairs bathroom emits a bright, irradiated green. Spock begins to exclusively use the upstairs bathroom, explaining that such unrelenting green is every bit as unpalatable to Vulcan retinas as red would be to humans.

 Seeing as the shuttle has never been blown up before, the possibility limits the risks they can take, and the experiment is understandably one which they are reluctant to proceed with. If the shuttle doesn’t regenerate, they’ll be even more stuck than before, without a means of escape. Just as Lewis McAllister should have been. The report implies that McAllister simply omitted the miraculous tale of how his dead crew and ship were resurrected each morning before his miraculous escape… But, given the state that the shuttle and the stronghold are currently in, he doubts that was the case. He sighs, and goes over the information that they have once again, from day one to now.

 “I suspect,” Spock says, quietly, “The only reason Leland would have needed to learn the hacking procedure himself was if he was planning to kill me.”

 Jim holds his hand out, and, tentatively, Spock takes it.

*

 “Alright, new plan,” Jim says, as he steps out of the forest, his shirt spattered with blood. “We do what we came here to do.”

 Spock blinks at him, possibly confused by the blood stains.

 “I mean: I take the outpost down, then we travel out to meet whoever Section-31 is sending. I mean, what have we got to lose? If we get it wrong, won’t we just wake back up here again?”

 “With no memory of this,” Spock points out.

 Jim sighs. “I’ve thought of that. And- has it ever occurred to you that we

 Spock shakes his head. “The first day I remember, the stronghold was as it was the day before. And, we can tell

 “If we can work out some sort of back-up-plan, a way to send a message to ourselves in case our memories get erased again…” Jim glances at the shuttle, and heads towards the server room.

*

 As they fly through space, Jim turns to Spock with a nervous smile.

 “So. Who’s coming to meet us?”

 A shadow flickers across Spock’s face. “Agent Georgiou.”

 “Georgiou?” Jim frowns. “Phillipa Georgiou? Wasn’t she a Starfleet Captain? I thought she was killed in the battle at the binary stars?”

 Spock’s eyes flash. “She is not who she appears to be,” he says. “Whatever you think; you cannot trust her.” As usual, his expression is unreadable.

 The shuttle bleeps, as an unseen ship hails them. It pulls into view up ahead

 There’s a strange, unfamiliar weapon on the top of the ship, jutting out at the font. It’s twice as long as the hull of the shuttle, and looks as if it’s been compacted down. The front of it is coiled, like some sort of drill-bit. Before Jim can question it further, Spock answers the hail- audio only.

 “Agent Georgiou,” he murmurs.

 “Spock. I almost shot you out of the sky,” the voice purrs. “You’re early. A day early.”

 Spock straightens. “And yet, our mission is complete.”

 “Hm.” There’s a bleep as she, presumably, verifies that claim. “You work fast.”

 Spock exchanges a look with Jim. “Indeed.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Where’s Leland?” Her voice acquires a dangerous edge.

 “He is- on board.”

 “Hm. Unconscious, presumably; otherwise he would have answered me himself.”

 “We had a- trying day,” Spock says, haltingly.

 Jim’s heart hammers in his chest, and he squeezes Spock’s shoulder.

 “Scan us,” Spock says.

 “Oh, I did. There are two life-signs on your ship. One human, one half-Vulcan. I have no guarantee that Leland is one of them.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Unless you turn on your vidscreen, of course.”

 “It was damaged in our escape with The Klingons.”

 “How convenient. I assume Leland was injured, as well?”

 “Yes.”

 There’s a beat.

 “How do I know that the boy isn’t on board with you?”

 “Because we stuck to the plan,” Spock says.

 Jim breathes shallowly, and twists his hands together in his lap.

 Georgiou’s laugh is distorted. “Plans change. Still, I do not intend to deviate from mine. I was only instructed to meet you and Leland.”

 “You were never fond of Leland.”

 “That’s true. In many ways, you’ve done me a favour.”

 “Spock-” Jim whispers, as the computer readout flashes up red.

 “You can do me another favour.”

 “She’s locked on weapons-”

 The proximity alert bleeps. Spock’s hands find the controls the same time Jim’s do, and they slam the ship into a wild dive. A second later, something glances off the side of the ship, and they’re thrown sideways. Spock cries out. Jim crashes head first into the wall, and his vision goes double.

“Spock…” Jim says, as his eyes flutter shut.

*

 The hum of an engine. Jim’s head throbs.

 He sits up with a groan. The shuttle is adrift, and Spock is slouched over the controls, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

“Spock-”

 He crawls over to him, and pulls himself into the seat next to him. He touches Spock’s shoulder, and his eyelids flutter. He groans.

 “Come on, Spock.” He pulls Spock’s hand away, and it’s green with blood. Cursing, he pulls his jacket off, and winds it round his torso, but it soaks through quickly. Jim’s eyes widen.

 If he remembers correctly, Vulcan hearts are further down than humans’.

 Heart pounding, he runs to the back of the shuttle, and tears the medkit open. Though the bandages and the dermal regenerator have long since been depleted, he knows that he’s seen-

 A hypospray. He grabs it. With one last glance back at Spock, he fills it with a cartridge of anaesthetic. Enough to knock himself out, he hopes. He takes a deep breath. He sits down heavily, places it against his neck, and discharges it with a hiss.

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[botaniia]

127

Some 127 thoughts because I promised myself I’d jot these down for future reference before I forget what I initially thought of it

Overall probably one of my fav chapters in a long time because it gave us that sweet, sweet character interaction that I’d been looking forward to since the start of the alliance. 

Jean is the absolute real MVP here. Before he was an okay character to me, I liked him but not extraordinarily much, but this chapter moved him very close to the top of the list. What a beast. I commend Yams for giving him that emotional release

I’m so happy we got to see his internal struggles. I feel like in a way it mirrors his choice to join the Survey Corps. His thoughts were very similar back then as well. Very interesting to see that this longing for comfort, safety, and luxury is still with him after all these years

“I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything” is an absolutely masterful line. Who’d a thunk I’d be broken already on page 2?

Hanji’s refusal to allow mass genocide is commendable. People have been calling her too optimistic, but I don’t think you can deny that genocide is ever a viable option. Saying that genocide is no option isn’t meant to be a solution to the question “what should we do”, it’s stating that there are things that shouldn’t be done. Hanji is right, you cowards

That said, Jean addressing what they should do then is also necessary. I wonder if Isayama saw any of the fandom discussion or if he simply predicted the nature of the discussions, because he nuanced every single point raised very well and gave a satisfying acknowledgement of the complexity of the situation.

“You can’t just massacre everyone! Like hell there’s a good reason to do that!” I want this printed out and framed on my wall. That expression is so powerful and shows us how Hanji ultimately wants a peaceful resolution to this. It tells us a lot about who she is and why she’s struggling with the current predicament.

That spread of everyone sitting by the campfire is absolutely amazing. The tension! The dichotomy between Jean and Hanji as they’re singled out in their own separate panel! The divide between Marley and Paradis with Onyakopon and Yelena in the middle! 

It was at this point I realised that I was only at page 11 and we were about to witness 34 pages of exactly what I’d been hoping for when the alliance formed. We knew confrontation was coming and did it deliver!

Interesting to get an insight into Magath’s thoughts. He always struck me as being less racist than most Marleyans, but apparently I overestimated the extent to which he was fair in his judgment of Eldians. Some major points:

Assuming that every Paradisian would be happy with genocide and would happily live in a world where only they were still alive. He may think more positively of Eldians than your average Marley higher-up, but he still has a prejudiced look on Paradisians. At the same time, he barely had any interaction with them. I’m curious to see how his vision could change when working side-by-side with them.

“In other words, you’re telling me you developed a sense of justice” are you projecting, my man

I did find the shade about letting Eren and Zeke make contact fitting. Must’ve been a shock for the gang that they were wrong and I can see why he’d question it

Jean calling out Magath will be the subject of my dreams for a long time.

Theo “we provoked you numerous times and then you attacked us back, ya demons!?” Magath everyone

We’re mentioning Eren’s mom now? Because you’re absolutely right, Jean. I always thought that it was wrong to call for some violent justice to be carried out against Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie when it’s really their superiors, the ones who chose to send them there, that deserve this treatment. The fact that Magath also had such a great involvement in the warrior project is something that deserved attention called to it, so this feels very nice

“You killed hundreds” “well you killed thousands” “okay but you enslaved our people” is exactly why it’s necessary to look past both sides’ past mistakes. Genocide is never okay, and the history shouldn’t be erased, but both sides have shit they can fling at each other. Both sides have wronged the other. There is no one who comes out on top morally speaking, so it’s pointless to argue that now. That’s what’s been bothering me about the “x is actually the bad guy here” talk in the communities, regardless of who x is. 

Sure, Hanji says she’s talking to Jean, but really she’s talking to Magath and throwing shade about the fact that he’s being bitter about the fact that the evil selfish Paradis devils are trying to stop the rumbling from destroying everything

“Would someone who’d change their mind because of that commit genocide?” are you projecting, Annie? Was there anything that could’ve been said to her that could’ve made her stop the initial attack on the walls? 

Annie slept for five years only to drop outta her crystal and absolutely obliterate the scouts with some harsh truths. She seems so reasonable at the moment and I can sorta admire her dedication to her father.

I want to marry Yelena for everything she said in her trip down memory lane because this was exactly what I had been hoping for this whole chapter and she just gave it to us like that

The panels are on-point. Framing the person she was accusing while also placing their primary victims in the background. Excellent artwork

You know you’re starved for content when just mentioning Bertholdt’s name got me excited. 

“Using the power you stole from Bertholdt Hoover” the rational part in me knows that no one had a choice on that day and the only outcome was his death, even if cool motive, still murder was applicable in the situation. The irrational part in me is cheering Yelena on for wording it like that.

It seems like Reiner and Annie know that Armin inherited the colossal and that Sasha is dead? If they hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t have just sat there staring when learning it for the first time. I’ve seen people annoyed at the fact that these facts were glossed over without much reaction out of the other characters, but I kinda get it. The chapter was already packed with details. Would an acknowledgement have been nice? Yeah, sure, it would’ve been extremely fitting in this conversation, and the fact that it wasn’t there definitely doesn’t do anything to diminish my fear that Bert will never be addressed again. But this chapter already deals with Jean’s anger over Marco’s death, so I get why it wouldn’t fit inside the same chapter. I also feel like Reiner doesn’t believe he has the right to be mad or sad about Bert’s death, exactly because of the things all three of them did. As much as I would have loved some acknowledgement, I think we can’t ignore that the lack of a reaction tells a lot about Reiner and Annie and how they have dealt with this issue in the past. I’m only hoping that they still interact with Armin in some way and give me the content I have been STARVING for. Just a drop, Isayama, please

Armin still looking like a kicked puppy when she says that though. He truly got the real Bert experience of getting orders to be the most destructive force in the assault and then getting to deal with the emotional aftermath, huh

The looks exchanged between the 104th and the kids... God damn, what a perfect page that is. Jean glancing down a panel after he was called out for nearly killing Falco. Gabi getting the true Braun experience of regretting actions she can never take back even if she wants to now. Someone save these children and shelter them from the worst, because I am not happy that literal 12-year-olds are still with the gang. Yams I beg you keep these kids away from combat, I will find out where you live

Yelena did all of that to sow hatred amongst the new alliance, so much effort to put into words what no one dared talk about in this awkward situation, and Jean manages to talk it away and turn it from destructive to constructive. What a man. Seriously, his character development and the guy he’s become are an inspiration.

“What was it again? Your close friend’s name you told me before?” and it was at that moment Reiner realised he should’ve pulled the trigger

It’s very telling that both Annie and Reiner are speaking so openly and so honestly about what they have done after years of secrecy and lies around their former soldier colleagues. In a way, I can imagine that despite the dread of having to tell Jean this, it’s at least something to finally be able to speak the truth. 

I gotta give it to Reiner that he did well speaking up and clarifying that he was the one who was responsible for the death. People always seem to either deem Annie as his killer or split the blame evenly between the three, but while Annie was obeying orders she couldn’t disobey and Bertholdt was doing nothing to prevent it from happening, at the end of the day Reiner is the one who decided that Marco was going to die. So I ain’t even mad that only he gets beaten for it.

Isayama’s expression game is on point for Jean especially this chapter. I can’t wait to see this animated, truly. If this scene were excellent already, this moment will define it. Everyone’s reaction to it is touching. Mikasa showing a rare moment of true grieving sorrow (though I have noticed that post-timeskip, she looks saddened more often than she looks determined) Armin looking like he had a clue that this was the case already, either through deduction or through Bertmin mechanisms (give us the memories, Yams) Connie’s stoic and bitter reaction (still tired of learning that the people who betrayed him are even worse than he thought, but not surprised in the slightest) Reiner and Annie looking pretty exhausted and done with themselves. Fuck. Good page.

“He said we still haven’t talked” narrative mic drop, hot damn

Jean could have easily used this information as a reason to leave the alliance. He so easily could have, and I don’t think anyone in the world would’ve thought it an overreaction. Instead, he was constructive and he remained calm for the greater good. He had more courage, more self-restraint than any other character in this group, and I seriously think this is the pinnacle of his character development. What a great guy.

“Jean that’s my line”

At first I didn’t quite get why Reiner decided to “push his luck” with Jean and tell him that additional stuff, but after giving it some thought it is actually really obvious. This is the most desperate looking we’ve seen him in a long time, and I’d argue that this is even more emotional than what he showed when Eren first lured him into that basement. Marco’s murder was a tragedy and a traumatic experience. With his fellow warriors, he couldn’t truthfully express the guilt he felt over it because he was responsible and he couldn’t show any attachment to the island devils when he was the one constantly checking Annie and Bertholdt’s allegiances. Back in Marley, there was no one he could be honest to because why would a good honourary Marleyan have empathy for a Paradis devil? This murder has been festering inside Reiner’s mind for so long. He couldn’t tell anyone about it and there was no one to judge him for it. He couldn’t just let Jean turn this into something constructive, that’d be far too merciful on him. No matter which shape it took, he needed to confess what he had done and he can’t stress enough that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Not from Jean, anyway. But if he wants a chance at ever being able to live with himself again, he had to do this. Add to that that he didn’t know at all what to do anymore (something he literally states), I think it’s fair to say he was looking for some type of closure, even if he hadn’t a clue how to get it.

I, and I’m saying this as a big Reiner fan, have never been as satisfied with a turn of events as seeing Jean beat the living hell out of Reiner in the most visceral, most violent way he could think of in that moment of raw anger. Jean already showed so much restraint in this conversation, so you can’t even call this a rash decision. Reiner had it coming.

The fact that Reiner accepts it without any attempt to defend himself is pretty admirable in its own right, and is again telling of his mental state and self image

Despite the anger, despite the fact that he had probably hoped to see it happen someday, despite the absolute hatred for Reiner, Connie still decided to stop Jean. Despite his damage, deep down you can still see the person he was so many years ago, the person who wants to put an end to conflict.

Gabi, darling... I already liked her just because people unreasonably hate her, but this moment is so character-defining that I can’t help but love her for this. At the start of the Marley arc, Falco is a defensive person and Gabi an offensive person. While we’ve seen Falco forced to be more offensive, Gabi generally stayed on the attack even after her realisation. Here, she could have easily chosen to attack Jean to stop his assault, but instead she threw herself between Reiner and the kick. “Gabi is trash” people love to shout while she decides to sacrifice her own safety to prevent Reiner from being hurt any more. She, a regular human girl who is literally 12, defended an adult titan shifter built like a tank who could’ve easily regenerated from the damage and who clearly deserved the beating. And believe me, at her age a kick like that can be lethal if it lands in the wrong spot. This is the moment where she stole my heart. She has turned into the perfect candidate for the armoured titan.

People saying that it’s good that Gabi got that final kick: have you considered she’s not only, again, literally 12, but also deeply apologetic for what she did and likely a key player in defending Paradis in the future?

Falco is a gentleman and he’s a good kid

Annie caring for Reiner... I didn’t know I needed that in my life, but honestly the idea that she’s looking out for him now (compare to her kicking Reiner back on the first day of the mission) makes me unreasonably happy. They’re the two survivors out of a group of the only four people in the world who can understand what they’ve been through, please look after each other!

The manga has a habit of making the cycle of hatred continue when one character is already sorry about their actions towards the person who next adapts the cycle. It was good to see Jean take the mature option and choose to consciously break it. No one would’ve faulted him had he left that night, but he still came back. He still showed kindness to two children, one he had wronged and one who had wronged him. That’s why Jean is our MVP.

I can’t be the only one who sees some 845 Jean in the way he wakes up and yells at Reiner, right? Also, what a gorgeous contrast between gently shaking awake Gabi and assuring her everything’s right, and giving Reiner a very rude awakening

If there was ever a parallel to make me believe that Reiner may be getting some closure, it’s this one

And despite all the tension and anger, I feel like we’re finally reaching a point where Reiner is finding closure. I’ve said this before, but his suffering only finds meaning if it leads to something, otherwise it just isn’t satisfying. He’s not gonna be forgiven by his former comrades. He knows this and he can accept this. But it’s off his chest and he got the reaction he deserved out of confessing his sins. At this point, I can only hope that this paves the way towards forgiving himself, because lord knows the guy deserves some peace of mind.

I’m walking the fine line between “Annie truly wanted to know where she fit in after all this and we are getting answers in the future” and “Yams is telling us very clearly that he’ll never answer this question”

Jean, my man, you got plenty of practice on everyone’s favourite punching bag, now go replicate everything you just did on Floch!

There’s gonna be lots of death next chapter, huh

Some other, more minor thoughts

Marco is still a cutie, even when in Jean’s conscience vision. 

Remember in 2013/14 when the fandom would get pissy over people finding Marco important and would say that Yams killed him just because he could? Remember when a few months ago even, people were still posting “Marco happened so long ago, Jean doesn’t care about him that much guys, get over it”? Remember when Jean remembered the ashes of his dead friend last chapter? Remember when Jean beat the ever-loving shit out of Reiner when learning he orchestrated Marco’s death? Yeah

Reiner looked unhappy about not being in a depression nap right now the entire chapter long

Need me that panel of Annie with her ring framed on the wall

[aurantia-ignis]

The Alola Pokemon League is coming to an end in the anime, with Ash vs Gladion in the finals. I’ve translated some snippets of the interviews that Okamoto Nobuhiko (voice actor of Gladion) did.

—

Okamoto’s first encounter with Pokemon was Green, which he bought when he was a second year student in elementary school. At that time, his home was very strict with the rule of ‘Only one hour of gaming per week.' When his friends played popular RPGs, they would clear the story before he even got past the first stage. When Pokemon Red/Green were released, he was playing it behind his parents’ back. He was to be in bed by 9pm, but he would hide under his futon with a light and play until midnight.

During that period, Pokemon was highly popular even in school, and he would battle his friends. In his first battle, Okamoto’s highest levelled Pokemon was a Nidoking at Lv. 80, but his opponent had six Lv. 100 Mewtwos. He was roundly defeated, but despite feeling upset about the loss he also developed a strong resolution to win.

Interviewer: “The bitterness of defeat became a springboard for you.”

Okamoto: “Yes. Somehow I really wanted to defeat the opponent’s Mewtwos without using Mewtwo, so I went through a lot of trial and error. First I tried Hypno, who could withstand Mewtwo’s Psychic, and used a combination of Hypnosis and Dream Eater, but the opponent quickly countered that with Substitute.”

Interviewer: “Huh? Weren’t you in elementary school?! That sounds rather like some high level strategising. (laughs)”

Okamoto: “I think we both took it pretty seriously (laughs). The next thing I tried was to use Chansey with Minimize. It doesn’t matter how powerful the attack is if it can’t hit.”

Despite his efforts, he never managed to defeat the Mewtwo team. Both he and his opponent were crazy about the game at that age. In middle school, he still played Pokemon, but he didn’t really continue with competitive battle after clearing them. When he entered university, his passion for Pokemon battles returned again with Diamond and Pearl.

During that time, Okamoto was spending so much time raising Pokemon that he sometimes forgot to eat or sleep. He was pretty serious about competitive battling then, creating teams around Garchomp.

When XY came out with Mega Evolution, he often used Mega Kangaskhan, armed with Power-Up Punch.

Interviewer: “In the anime, Ilima also used a Mega Kangaskhan with Power-Up Punch.”

Okamoto: “Yes! As expected of Ilima, he knows what’s up (laughs)“

Interviewer: “It’s amazing how Guzma’s Scizor managed to take those blows (laughs)“

Okamoto: “Guzma’s strategies worked out well for him. It’s not possible in the game, but in the anime, trainers can call out to warn their Pokemon to dodge attacks.”

Interviewer: “’DODGE IT!’ That's the dream of every Pokemon Trainer's in this world…”

Okamoto first started watching the Pokemon anime every week in elementary school as well. The SunMoon anime has a peaceful, slice-of-life feel, but he remembers many touching, tear inducing episodes in the original anime. He was especially touched by the scene where Ash was using his body to protect Pikachu from the Spearow. Pikachu hadn’t wanted to listen to him before, but that was the turning point where their bonds began to grow. Other memorable episodes include Bye Bye Butterfree.

When his manager said that he had an upcoming job in Pokemon as the heroine’s brother, he thought “Isn’t that Gladion? Awesome!!” 

Interviewer: ”How did you feel when you were casted as Gladion in the anime you love?”

Okamoto: “I was just really happy. When I said the line ‘Ash!’, it really felt like I was having a conversation with the Ash I watched in my childhood, and my heart was shaking.”

“My character Gladion is a cool character. The process of recording him really dug deep into the question of ‘Why is he cool?'"

"Gladion is a trainer who analyzes battles in real-time. 'If they use that move, I'll counter with this move'. He's always thinking. That's why he doesn't speak much, and watches the battles calmly, rather than getting heated. That's why he's cool.”

With Lillie and Lusamine, he shows a softer side, more of him as a young boy, because they are his family. The cool side of him retreats when he's with them. When he battles Ash, since he's older, he behaves more like an older brother teaching a younger junior.

Interviewer: “Teaching Ash sounds like it’d be rather stressful (laughs)“

Okamoto: "Yes, I almost wished to erase Okamoto Nobuhiko's memory. In my mind, Ash is this amazing skilled trainer who has gained lots of experience. But in the SunMoon anime, Ash is still young, and has less battle experience than Gladion."

Interviewer: ”Did you also have difficulties playing Gladion because there was an established impression of Game Gladion in Okamoto memory?”

Okamoto: “It was hard (laughs). I had to think of it as a different world from the game. Game Gladion was in Team Skull, but in the anime he wasn’t, and there were various other small differences. I managed to make that shift smoothly.

“His relationships with his family are quite different too. Game Lusamine had a terrifying side, while in the anime, she's a kind mother. Lillie, too, was slightly different. Though this may be different depending on person, I could sense a bit more pushiness in Game Lillie. When I was playing through the story, I suddenly found myself fascinated by Lillie. In the anime, however, I never really felt that pushiness. Though perhaps that’s due to Shindo Kei (CV for Lillie).”

Interviewer: "Lillie's speech when she performs Z-moves are totally influenced by Gladion…”

Okamoto: “She became an edgelord too (laughs). Lillie, you too!? I laughed without thinking.”

Interviewer: “How would you fight Ash if you were using Gladion’s Pokemon?“

Okamoto: "He'd definitely use Pikachu, so I'd have Silvally hold the Ground memory. I’d start with sending Umbreon out and observe how he goes. Umbreon would hold Lum Berry, moveset would perhaps be Curse/Payback/Hypnosis/Quick Attack or something. Depending on what Ash leads with, it could work. But Ash's Melmetal has extremely high defense, so I wonder if I can beat that… There are no Pokemons with really high Sp.Att in Gladion's team, so defeating Melmetal might be difficult.”

Interviewer: “That’s more from a game POV, how do you think it will go from an anime POV?"

Okamoto: "I believe the key would lie in how Zoroark uses his Illusion. It will break if he gets hit by an opponent's move, so I’d use the DODGE IT quite liberally (laughs). Maybe he could turn into Umbreon and use Dark Pulse, to continue fooling the opponent.”

Okamoto: ”Anime Silvally can change memory mid battle, so he can switch to whatever type he wants. Theoretically that makes him the strongest. But Ash’s Lycanroc is probably going to be a tough battle. He has Counter. Moves in the game that would KO can be survived in the anime with effort, so we'd have to watch out for the Counter after that.“

(Note: I used the words ‘edgey’ ‘edgelord’ in place of chuunibyou, for want of a better word. Gladion is described in the artbook as having chuunibyou traits (Source: https://www.animatetimes.com/news/details.php?id=1567911392)

---

Okamoto: “Gladion is a composed character, so whenever I put in a bit more energy, I’d be advised ‘That’s too desperate. At this point, it would feel too much like he’s on the losing side.’ I struggled over how to play Gladion as a cool character without losing that intensity.”

“Although I’ve played other cool characters, the approach to playing Gladion is different. He’s not exactly just cool; instead, he’s rather passionate. In spite of his heated passion, he analyses based on observing the Pokemon’s moves, so I thought ‘It’d be good if he could appear cool.’ (….)

“Gladion says things like “Rocks drenched in the Z aura of the azure moon” “Demonic eye of the moon! Shine upon the labyrinth of darkness!” and other edge-y lines, but I was tasked to voice them in a way where those are the ways he cheers on his Pokemon. It’s kind of like his routine towards victory. Other characters don’t do speeches like that, but his sister Lillie does the same, so perhaps it’s in the blood. (laughs).”

“There was a scene where Guzma’s partner Golisopod, returned to his pokeball after being damaged by Pikachu. At the recording studio, people were asking ‘Why did he go back into the ball?’, and I really wanted to tell them that ‘That’s Golispod’s ability, Emergency Exit.’”

“With regards to Golisopod, the staff did actually give an explanation. What surprised me was that they told me “The only one who’s ever been able to talk about the Pokemon games like this at the recording studio is Okamoto-san.” People who have been in touch with Pokemon since a young age (like me) are called ‘Pokemon natives’ by the staff.”

(Source: https://news.mixi.jp/view_news.pl?id=5780551&media_id=54&from=twitter&share_from=view_news)

[austerlitzborodinoleipzig]

The Timeless Children review.

There’s a lot to say about the Timeless Children, but setting aside discussion about what that new lore dump means for the show, and trying to keep things about this episode...

A bad episode with okay lore, and some noted improvements on Chibnall’s part. 

I’m okay with retcons. It’s Doctor Who. Nothing is sacred. (I mean, except the core values of the main character. Having the Doctor selling the Master to the Nazis as a POC is so much worse). Things will get retconned/modified. Are certain retcons bullshit? Yes, but that’s another matter. Fundamentaly I don’t think Who canon, if there’s even such thing, should be kept safe. Like it or not, the showrunner is in charge. There’s no such thing as respect for the fans, or for the previous eras. 

And like I’m the first to complain but really if Chibshow wants to stick the middle finger at Moffat show, that’s his godamm right. The showrunner has full ownership of the show, otherwise it would hamper the creative process. We can discuss why the changes made are bad, but saying “How dare Chibnall retcon the deep lore” is idiotic. 

So kudos to Chibnall for daring. I mean The Timeless Children left a bad aftertaste in my mouth, but hey it was engaging. I wanted to know more, which compared to Series 11 is a vast improvement. 

So yes lore was okay. 

Did I like the reveal/retcon ? Not really. 

Is it possible to make something interesting out of that? I’ve seen some good takes about it, so yeah. On the downside this is Chibnall we’re talking about, so trust him to pick the least interesting idea.

Will I come to terms with it? I did not like the idea of the War Doctor, or the fact that Doctor saved Gallifrey at first. I’ve come round since, and even like it now. I expect I’ll have digested all of it in the coming months, and I’ll be able to make it fit with my own headcanons/continuity/personal conception of Doctor Who... 

Does it really change anything? The Timeless Child, not so much. All the pre-Hartnell Doctors and the fact that the Doctor worked for the CIA (or the Division, whatever the fuck the difference is), yes, a lot, and I like it even less. 

Are there ways to go around it? Yes there are. And also the scope of Doctor Who is so big, you can comfortably ignore it. 

The episode was bad.

Bad because the lore was infodumped in the most boring and unimaginative way, with the Master just doing exposition for 60% of the runtime. Also the Matrix looks boring. Fucking grey background.

Ashad is perhaps the Chibnall villain with the most potential. I’m still thinking voluntarily converted Cyberman is a great idea that deserved a lot more of exploring. There’s really some fascinating implications... And all of that got flushed down the toilet, because Ashad got unceremoniously killed by the Master. 

Also, hello big MacGuffin death particle. Chibnall, would it kill you to make the effort to introduce the great big “plot-resolve” button in the previous episode?What a convenient reveal with no groundwork, that feels telegraphed from a mile. 

Worst of it is probably the moment where the Doctor awakes, ensues some excruciating moments, where the Doctor tries to figure out the Master’s plan, while we, the audience have already been informed, by means of exposition. And then we get more exposition for the death particle we already got 20 minutes ago, with bad dialogue to boot. “There’s a myth...” Oh ffs! Why use myth? Nothing in that dialogue is mythic, Chibnall is not lyrical enough for it. That’s imitation of mythic.

Also unclear on the specifics of how the death particle works. Per the Master and Ashad, it erases all the life in the Galaxy. And then during exposition n°2, provided by Ravio, we hear it only erases life on one planet, which is what the Doctor tries to do at the end. 

But “all organic life”... By all account had Ashad activated it, it would have killed the Cybermen as well, or at least him. They’re not pure robots and we can clearly see with Ashad that there’s organic living bits underneath. So all that big ascension will be without Ashad. Of course you could make the case that the Ascension is really the Cyberium’s aim and that it does not care the slightest about Ashad. 

Also we shall have dominion... Over what, if you killed everyone? Again, poorly thought out motivations for Ashad. Mostly it sounds cool, but it’s empty when you take a closer look at it. 

And speaking of the Cyber Time Lords. Well, we’re told they were made with the corpses of dead Time Lords the Master kept. If they’re dead, we’re assuming it’s permanent death, otherwise they would have regenerated... So where the hell does the regeneration ability comes from? And if they are corpses in Cybersuits, how come they would be affected by the death particle, as they are definitely not living?

I mean it’s Doctor Who so I’m willing to overlook this details if there’s a good story told behind it. Like, the Daleks’ plot in The Dalek Invasion of Earth is fucking stupid. Let’s mine the Earth’s core, to replace it with a motor and then drive Earth around in space, like a big spaceship. But then that’s a small detail in an episode whose purpose is elsewhere : presenting a dystopian vision of England, a post apocalyptic, facist world. It’s about the pure dread for the spectator of seing his world overrun by space Nazis. It’s the first episode of the show’s history with an alien invasion. It’s also about Susan. And there’s also quite a chunk devoted to mostly Barbara, but also Ian for a bit: how they react to that world that seems familiar and at the same time, completely alien. 

Here there’s no story behind it. It’s basically a dressing for the big lore reveal. 

It’s a bad Cyberman story. Nothing about the Cyberzealot is really explored in a meaningful way. He’s supposedly conflicted... Yeah because we’re told so by the Doctor in Ascension. Show not tell, yadda, yadda, yadda... So Cybermen are nothing more than your generic evil robots... And even the Master sees how stupid that is and takes the piss (rightly so). 

Supporting cast is there for nothing more than exposition, or action sequences that do nothing more than distracting us from the lore reveal, because that’s the only thing really going on in that ep. 

And yet again we have a final that does a piss poor job with the companions. Second in a row. To be fair, Battle of Raging Avatar tried to give some closure to Ryan and Graham... It just did it so badly it does not even register as a try. 

This time Yaz is the better served with three(!) character bits. Tis only fair after Series 11. But still feels underbaked. I mean I think it will all depend on whether she leaves with the Christmas Special. She still has been massively underserved by the show. The last episodes, starting with Praxeus she did get some good content, but that‘s a bit late and still not enough, when you compare it with the other New Who companions. And well one of Yaz’s traits is her need for validation from the Doctor... and here she gets it from Graham??? In itself it’s a really fine moment. but underwhelming if that is to be the conclusion of her arc. 

And again, there’s only minimal progression in terms of development for the fam. Yaz has perhaps the most significant one, going from   Doctor is the best person -> I’m the best person. 

Graham has mostly been stucked with comic relief this series, and goes from. Decent bloke that married Grace to ... You’re okay?? 

Ryan... I feel this season really did not know what to do with him. He doesn’t have anything to do in the final, just fire at a bunch of Cybermen. That bit with the bomb is one of the most half-assed excuses for an arc I’ve seen. So Ryan beats dyspraxia, said dyspraxia being only mentioned when it’s convenient, or when we need to establish the character, because he really believes in himself and focuses??? And yet I had so much hope after Woman Who Fell To Earth and that really good bike scene. 

Also the relationship between the Doctor and her fam is again unresolved... My fam, I need them... That feels unearned after a whole season of agressively pushing the Doctor and the companions apart, and with the Doctor becoming more and more distant, and sometimes an asshole. I was waiting for the show to adress that... And it peters out.  The episode fails on an emotional level. 

The big climax... Sigh... Is yet another riff from RTD, this time from that super good scene from Parting of the Ways... Except less well done, because we’ve seen all that before, what else is new? Also the resolution of that in Series 1 was a moment of grace and love, and just beautiful, and felt satisfying, and paid off the Doctor’s arc... Here we have wannabe-Obi-Wan/Luke-from-the-sequel conveniently sacrifying himself. Again, the less well done remix of the RTD years. And that final cliffhanger would have been charming had we not been coming from a season that consistently mined the RTD-nostalgia. 

That bit with Ruth was lovely, and gives me some hope for the way the lore is going to be treated but... Doctor!Ruth is magnificent and yet again upstages Thirteen a bit. And I think it’s a bit of a problem when your incumbent Doctor gets upstaged by other incarnations...

Another problem here is that the Doctor remains totally passive, ineffective, and with limited agency throughout the episode, which was... eh. Doesn’t make for a good story. 

Still some things were good

The Master was definitely the best thing about this episode. Maybe unpopular opinion but Chibnall nailed the Master. So many good moments

the whole kicking himself for not thinking of a good one liner before zapping the Ashad

his whole motivation: I’ve seen some really good posts going round, but of course everything is totally in character for the Master. Jealousy at being upstaged by the Doctor, again. Hint of race supremacy. Cannot bear the fact that his not from the Master race, because all his claims to superiority have gone up in smoke. He’s not a renegade prince anymore. He’s a renegade fake. 

That really good bit where he’s sad his gamble paid off, and he did not died when killing Ashad. This is a suicidal Master, a bit like Simm, but Simm had the rage to live, while Dhawan!Master... Just wants to sow destruction, doesn’t matter if it’s his own. Mostly really broken, with an identity crisis no less than the Doctor’s and going on a destructive rampage instead. 

The carped is red because it’s drenched in the blood of the Time Lords. That line and its delivery is one of the highlights of the episode. It’s so perfectly ridiculous and bad on purpose and over the top. 

Also Dhawan has a really great voice and I could here him speak forever. Does he narrate books?

Interesting how even if he’s Thirteen’s Master, the Dhawan Master just screams Eleven. The clothes. The mannerism, the lines and the delivery... I could see Smith in his performance. 

Another good bit is Ko Sharmus... Finally someone to articulate why the whole take “guns=bad” that was going on these two series was bad. Because yeah sometimes people try to kill you so you have to fight back. 

I was afraid that Ko Sharmus would be undermined... And he’s the hero of the episode. And I’m really glad that Thirteen failure to fire the bomb was depicted for what it was... A failure. Because then Ko Sharmus gets his hero moment and saves the day, by firing it. 

Criticism of the Doctor’s position for what it is: self righteousness and hypocrisy?? In my Chibshow??? That’s more likely than you think.

And finally the Cyber Time Lords were ridiculous and I loved everything about the design. 

So really, my problem is not the lore. My problem is that Chibnall is going balls to the wall, firing from all cylinders, doing big lore... And still fails to tell an engaging story. 

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Assessing writing in homestuck: The difference between appealing characters and well-written character stories.

i was rambling about this to /u/cookiefonster in the discord earlier

theres a big difference between what qualifies as "good narrative" and "good character", even when the narrative youre discussing is focusing entirely on that character.

lets give you a couple of examples:

Terezi:

Terezi's a character who has a kind of fucked up storyline that just constantly loops back in on itself; she spends all of act 5 deciding whether to deal with Vriska or not, then gets in abusive relationships in act 6 after not being able to cope with her death. Terezi ends up with massive self esteem issues. Following from THIS, she dies, and retcons the story to undo her mistake and try to prevent the collapse of her self esteem. Sounds like an epic resolution to an arc, right?

Nope - post retcon, they brought Terezi's self esteem issues back but didn't give her the time of day to properly interact with other characters about it. She was unconfident around Vriska and insecure about her altself. Then she has a bit of a breakdown, unlocking some of the potential of her seer of mind abilities, and having a realisation of who truly is. You'd think, wow, Terezi after Remem8er is going to be interacting so much more with the other kids and FINALLY overcome her battle with depression, RIGHT?!?!

uhhh..... she doesnt say anything again until after the comic is over. then shes seen travelling through space.

When the epilogues drop she's interacting with John, they're building on top of their already amazing chemistry, they seem to understand each other like nobody else does in the entire fucking saga. Then Terezi nearly "dies" but another John finds her and they have a heart to heart before Terezi decides it's time go home.

WOOOOOW, you think, Terezi is FINALLY LEARNING TO LOVE HERSELF?!¬?!?!?! an interaction with a HEALTHY PERSON?!?!?!

Then John dies. Then Terezi hates Earth C so much and is so isolated from everybody she knows that she doesn't hesitate to join the villain in space. And it's implied Vriska texts her but she never reads those messages insofar as the canon material ends.

Overall, a rather anticlimactic story about a character whose arc is constantly recycled, not allowed to be given closure at any stage, falling into the same tragedy pit. It's like an art form of cockblocking.

So, why is Terezi as cherished as she is? How come even in the face of the ending, the epilogue, where it feels like Terezi has just been going round in circles, she is probably one of the most loved characters in homestuck?

There's a few factors:

Humor - Being able to make your audience laugh in a genuine way will put you in their favour. Terezi's dark humor, which works in tandem with her general naivete, has always been delightful.

Relevance - The part where Terezi's popularity might have actually struggled would be during Meteorstuck where she was pushed on the sidelines. Every moment she's been around after GAME OVER, however, she's been one of the most active character pushing the plot and generating excitement for whatever thing she's going to do next, even if it does become a loop. Killing John>Killing Vriska>Killing Gamzee>Retconquest>Remem8er>Finding Vriska>Finding John>Leaving with Dirk to save John>??? - she's always on some sort of mission which means if you're thinking about the plot then you might be thinking about something that ties into her storyline.

But most importantly, Authenticity - Terezi's dialogue is actually very well-written, in that she's one of the least wordy characters, but she gets exactly what she's feeling across whenever she talks about it. If you look at all the conversations she's had with Vriska or John or even Dave then you can tell Terezi feels very strongly about whatever she's feeling, and is either trying to disguise that feeling or is trying to put it to words she's struggling to find. Yet even when Terezi can't describe what she's feeling, the audience knows, because her condensed dialogue is expressive enough for us to be able to tell. It also helps that Terezi is one of the most invested in the other cast members, being - if not more righteous - then more analytical of her friends, taking in why they behave the way they do. It doesn't matter that arc-wise she goes in circles, because you can tell exactly how it keeps happening.

I feel like if Terezi didn't have that factor, if there wasn't so much weight to her emotional presentation and if the audience wasn't able to "feel" for her, then she would probably be significantly less popular. I guess that’s why many people feel it’s better for her to still be stuck in the “plot” of homestuck, to lack closure, because maybe closure would feel forced in this universe that’s taken so much from its kids? How can you “forget” what happened and just act like you never entered the game to begin with? Some of the other characters have this issue and it harms them deeply.

Let’s get into that!!!!!

Lord English and Calliope :

I feel so bad for Hussie. He clearly put a lot of thought into the relationship between Calliope and Caliborn, how their characters intertwine throughout this epic story. Yet despite them being the narrative fuel for the entirety of homestuck, and having an awesome thematic ending to their tales, it feels like the "cherub wars" part of homestuck never stuck its foot too deeply in the public consciousness.

Like, let's describe their narration: Two people born in the same body, one good, one evil. One is predestined to rule over the other.

In one universe the cherubs are left in their natural state. The Just cherub, Calliope, predominates... but because the universe is rigged, she is forced to be put into obscurity, residing for billions of years in a hidden dream bubble until the time is right. In another universe, there is intervention - Gamzee introduces the cherubs to humans, and they start to imitate their concepts and feelings. Because of this, Calliope becomes a softer being, engaging happily with the humans. She even wants to take mercy on her brother! But Caliborn takes on human ambition and grows determined to stop his sister from predominating, taking advantage of the human concept of “cheating” in order to beat her at their own game.

Caliborn defeats his sister, and is thrown into a session where he’s forced to overcome seemingly impossible challenges. He succeeds, and is given the ultimate power. Caliborn can will the universe to how he sees fit.

Caliborn’s given just desserts by getting trapped in the juju by the alpha kids but not before the monkey’s paw of trapping all the (alternate) beta kids for millenia, and in becoming trapped, he ends up becoming Lil Cal and Doc Scratch, who manipulate events so that he will rise again as an adult.

But the one thing that drives Caliborn more than anything is the desire to destroy his perfect sister - Calliope. A never ending thirst for her death. For predomination Caliborn never predominated normally so he never gets over it. This is part of why he’s so obsessed with showmanship and art too, to one-up her character. He circles the universe destroying all that is irrelevant, all that is obscure, in the hopes of demolishing all versions of his sister, having the primal fear that she will one day catch him out.

Our predominated calliope meets with the ghost of her alternate self, who tells her that her purpose as a softer human version is to just live her life. To be free. To appreciate all that humanity offers her. Whereas the Alternate Calliope’s role is to commit the ultimate sacrifice, to put an end to her brother’s ego. She absorbs the Green Itself into a catastrophic black hole that erases what is left of the universe.

You think that is the end, but Calliope is reborn in a new form, rewarded for her hard efforts, and becomes a full narrator for the story itself, protecting it from the evil of the Prince. She’s an active guide for the characters of Homestuck, wastching over them. She destroys her brother once and for all, absorping him inside herself.

Wasn’t all of that FUCKING AWESOME?!?!?!??! “Wow”, you think, “Calliope sounds so hardcore!!! I’m sure she’s an amazing character to have such a conclusive storyline like this!!”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Literally nobody on the internet sees Calliope as their favourite character, except for maybe Past!Shelby Cragg who was her artist. And while Caliborn has his fans, nobody is a big fan of Lord English either. In fact most people tend to forget about the Lord English part of him because it’s just not that engaging!

Basing this on the above analysis about Terezi, what is lacking in terms of these characters?

Humor - Caliborn is a hilarious character, absolutetly no doubt about that. He’s so stupid and the way he sees the world is hilarious. It’s almost Terezi-ish even, except far more exaggerated in terms of his vulgarity and naivete, since he was locked in a fucking cage all his life. Caliborn makes us laugh pretty much every time we see him... but this character is lost entirely in Lord English, who does not wish to engage with the audience at all. Lord English is entirely a machine at this stage, just acting to destroy. As for CALLIOPE, she was never that great in the humor department. I’d be surprised if the original Callie knows what ��jokes” are. Alt Calliope was also a stooge until the Epilogue where she trolls Dirk, and yes those parts are delightful and boost her in my eyes significantly, but in the core part of homestuck she is incredibly serious all the time.

Relevance - After reading me narrate the entire Cherub plot and how impactful it was on the entirety of homestuck you’d think I’m a fucking idiot for trying to argue that Calliope and Lord English are irrelevant, right? Well Too Bad!!! That’s exactly what I think. Doc Scratch was relevant to what was happening to our core cast of characters, manipulating them behind the scenes, taking advantage of them and fuelling their personal drama for his greater gain. This is why we love Doc Scratch so much and can even enjoy Ultimate Dirk for doing the same thing. Caliborn had a reduced impact on our main cast, but Lord English’s impact is pretty much nonexistent outside of the first time we see him in Caliborn: Enter. Once again, he’s literally only there to destroy the fucking universe, but when our main characters are either enjoying themselves in the new Alpha session or in Earth C, you have to ask why you or they should be interested in what LE is doing? Dave says so himself, that LE has not done anything wrong to him so he’s not hyped to go kill him. Calliope, meanwhile.... Her relevance is split in two, and neither is too substantial to what our main guys are doing.It “makes sense” as she’s such a passive character, but Calliope’s struggle with relevance doesn’t take me as impacting her too much, and I’ll get onto that in a second. Only one alpha kid ever thinks about her, she doesn’t think about anyone except herself, and while Jade has some kind of relationship with Alt!Callie, it isn’t a personal one by any means. Calliope’s impact on the emotional arcs of homestuck is so minimal that she was erased from the epilogues which she wrote herself. Even Calliope can’t think of anything to do with Calliope!!! How about that!!!

Oh, and of course, Authenticity - Caliborn feels like an authentic character because he deals with actual struggles. Caliborn finds it tremendously difficult to do things other characters might have an easy time with, like drawing, thinking in anything OTHER than straight lines... but he perseveres. Caliborn faces his impossible and brutal tasks head on to claim the Ultimate Reward. He’s fucking EARNED that ability to destroy everything in reality, and by god he’s let us know!!! This is why Caliborn is such a cherished character. Even though he’s evil as fuck, he feels like a real kid somehow. It goes without saying that although Doc Scratch has a different kind of authentic creepiness, Lord English has nothing on him that makes him feel real. He’s just a machine, as said before. CALLIOPE’s authenticity.... The alpha Calliope is a character who became “so nice” and so “perfect” that she ended up losing her fight against her evil brother just because she was that good a person as to let him get the better of her. Nothing that ever happens to her is her fault. She never gets in any conflicts with any character ever, except for that one time she yelled too loud in Candy but nobody told her off for it. Calliope is perfect at art, a fair enough writer. The closest thing to a “flaw” she’s ever had is getting so excited about her friends that she writes creepy fanfic about them, something that is parodied in Candy, which has been implied to be narrated (or at least retold) by Calliope herself in Meat. Simply put, Calliope is... a mary sue. A flawless character. There is absolutely no authenticity and no way to relate to her. Alt Calliope.... she’s a martyr? But why does she want to be a martyr? What does she care about the human characters? She’s even less authentic. It is badass to watch her tear down Dirk, and the story takes advantage of how unreadable she is by making her intimidating as fuck, an all knowing force to contest - no, overpower - that of Dirk or even Hussie himself. Alt Callie is more knowing in her fakeness, she has a better struggle as well what with having to escape from obscurity and overcome her brother, and therefore is a better character, at the end of the epilogues, than the original.

TL;DR: It’s not just about making interesting things happen to your characters. It’s making sure they have interesting reactions to what is going on. If your character becomes someone who things just “happen” to, and who does not respond to those things in an authentic way, then nobody is going to care for them no matter how important or existentially poetic their arc is.