#the problem is in my setting's enigma of a time period

[possumkingluca]

the writing experience is going down a 30 minute to multiple hour long rabbit hole about something that you would never be interested in normally for one specific minute detail

[honeym00ngirl]

Buggy x straw hat! Reader.

summary: headcanons about being in a relationship with everyone’s favorite clown pirate. a/n: hear I am, posting way to early, once again. This man is my kryptonite istg. warnings: shittily proof read, language, fluff, why is fluff a warning? The tiniest tiny once of angst buried within the fluff, SFW.

Buggy, is an enigma. He is admittedly unstable as fuck, but always tries to keep it together for you.

A lethal combination of possessive and touch starved, rolled into a hubristic ball. The result of such a diverse set of traits? He is extremely affectionate and almost never lets you go. 

In his mind, he must always be touching you in some way or another. Wether his arm be slagged around your shoulders or his fingers intertwined in your own.

Sometimes when you, in his words, “leave him like gutter trash for the straw hats” he’ll offer to let you take a piece of him with you. wink wink. Obviously you decline, leaving him whole yet broken without your presence.

However this doesn’t mean Buggy is afraid of using his Chop Chop abilities to his advantage. It's far from uncommon to suddenly find Buggy’s detached hand locking your fingers in a tight embrace.

Once attached they are near impossible to remove. Have daily tasks that must be attended? To bad, your hand will be spoken for, for hours to come.

And God forbid you find yourselves separated for an extended period of time. 

His over exaggerated despair knows no bonds. After months of the crew hearing their captain try and pass you off as simply another incessant straw hat, his true feelings are exposed to them in the most dramatic of manors. He will sulk and mope until you are back in his embrace.

This being said, he can’t stand the idea of you angry with him. More often then not being the root cause of any problems your relationship may face, Buggy never lets things escalate beyond the occasional silent treatment. 

When he is given the silent treatment, Buggy may first attempt to gain your forgiveness without a verbal apology. He'll smoother you with his affection, try to make you laugh, leave small gifts in elaborate places, anything to earn your forgiveness without verbally admitting his wrong-doings.

If your silence prosiest, he is quick to crack and will eventually come begging on his knees for your forgiveness. Once he sees you split into a smile, his heart swells with joy. Exasperated from the conflict, he neglects any obligations he may have in an attempt to make up for the lost time. 

[psalloacappella]

tenerezza

Day 6 Prompt: Cuddling // “Come closer.”

@sasusakublankperiodweek

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

He keeps his comments to himself: That she has staff for a reason, that their ex-sensei-turned-Kage works her too hard and he’d made a curt mention of it when reporting back, that perhaps someone could take the task of laundering bloody work clothes off her hands. Their responsibilities even in this delicate period they call peacetime still weigh heavy, principle baked into their bones.

In the future, their children won’t know the world quite like this.

A routine peacekeeping mission turns, twists, becomes mayhem.

Surgery is an intensive thing, the delicate dance of suspending chakra and soul in the void to negotiate with Death. And though it is a grim and arduous opponent with which to skirmish, Sakura more often than not emerges victorious.

Drained, though. Frayed at the edges.

It startles her to know that she sometimes has an audience.

Bringing the back of hand across her forehead, she dabs at the shimmering sweat. An assistant hands her a small towel, bows, and retreats. Hitching a tired grin onto her face, she inclines her head. “Hokage-sama.”

Familiar, how he can show up jauntily in a chaotic atmosphere, a mess, and still manage to seem bemused. The political consequences of this recent skirmish unspoken between them. Hands in his pockets, he brings two fingers to his temples and flicks them toward her in an affectionate motion, channeling yesteryear. “Don’t bother with that, Miss Haruno.”

Sakura wrinkles her nose at his sarcastic drawl. “That does sound weird coming from you.”

“Ah, you see? So stick with ‘sensei.’”

Despite her exhaustion, she musters up the energy to stick out her tongue.

“Mature of you,” he sighs. “But of course, well done. Exceptional, in fact.”

“You didn’t watch my whole surgery just to praise me at the end?”

Kakashi smiles, the fabric forming folds that reflect expressions innate, the way she’s interpreted them for years and knows as well as the comforting wrinkles in a beloved shirt.

There’s something knowing in the set of his chin, the easy, languid way his weight settles onto one hip, almost irreverent. 

“I’m here to tell you to go home,” he says gently. “It’s been hours. Days, really. Your capable staff will wrap up the rest.”

Perspiration, fluids; she wipes clammy hands on her coat. “Am I needed somewhere else?”

“No, I am simply invoking the powers of my grand office to send you home.”

Sakura narrows her eyes at him, swaying a bit on her feet. He’s not wrong about the rest, but she does resent his smugness in a situation where she’s unable to see the reason.

“Tell me why.” Raising her chin, she folds her arms, a stubborn root settling in for long, protracted and perhaps heated discourse.

Chuckling, his eyes twinkle in a manner just borderline risque enough to make her frown. 

“He’s home.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Simmering rouge moving swift and fast through her cheeks, flooding out the pink from her exertion and becoming full-blown embarrassment. “Just say that first. Actually, no! No, don’t — how do you—?”

“He’s already checked in, report done. Doesn’t waste time chatting with me much anymore, I’m just his old, grey sensei.” Kakashi’s sigh is wistful, aiming at charming. 

But his eyes are sharp, always watchful of everything and in particular, his loved ones. Can he see her shakes, or does he just see

tears gathering on her lashes, the nightmares ripping her from sleep the night before, and the night before that, and — 

She’s sure she catches his self-satisfied wink as she hurries out on unsteady legs.

Weak knees, breathless, for all sorts of complicated reasons.

.

.

Plants watered. House slippers and shoes chivvied back into line, a neat row. 

The scent of him:  Of earth and salt, traces of forests and faraway lands and a bite — oh, that crisp bite of smoke and fire, heady and hot, from his essence rather than his clothes. 

She finds it difficult to hold herself up, clinging to the threshold frame. Laid out across her couch he’s something of an enigma, an infamous man whose existence sparks ignorant prattle, the truth and falsehoods hoarded and passed as collective talismans. Half-informed tales of the team she adores and the man she loves. 

Handsome, of course. That aspect has never changed, never will. Vulnerable, arm resting behind his head, the placid rise and sink of his chest. Managing to come back without summons but always, forever, at the precise and needed time. 

Socked feet padding against the cold wood floor, (there was a rug, she needs a new one — knucklehead Hokage-in-the-wings spilled red wine all over it), she kneels next to the couch. Eyes following the cut edge of his jawline, the sovereign slope of his nose. And most of all, the unexpected serenity his face reflects, no furrows or creases in his expressions even in sleep.

There’s an object out of place, and its energy distracts her, draws her gaze. A basket of laundry that she assumes was gathered but unfinished, a medley of clothes he undoubtedly stripped off upon arriving tossed in with the several layers she’s been through in the last week, the sanguine fabric narrative of her journey to the void and back. 

And yet. 

On hands and knees she drags it across the floor until it's in front of her, snatches a shirt right off the top. 

Bringing it to her face, she inhales the scent of devotion so potent that the tears come swift and sudden.

“Sakura?”

Sleepy, a little hoarse, but even on awakening the concern threads his voice through. Her, crying into a shirt he’s just washed for her; she sulks inwardly, feeling stupid.

When she tries to respond, struggling to force out some chirpy greeting and loving quip, it slips into impossibility. He reaches out to her, hand starting at the top of head to run through her clammy pink locks, then down to take her face in his fingers, a thumb gently swiping hot tears away. 

“Sakura.”

A hitch in her breath; she struggles to swallow down the sobs clawing and turbid at the back of the throat. Pressing her face into his chest, she mumbles, “Welcome home, Sasuke-kun.”

Still with his hand on her head, fingers exploring her scalp in idle and soothing trails as tracing familiar ancient etchings, as memorizing braille.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, shifting onto his side. Taps his fingers against her head, gentle, a quiet ask. 

Sakura’s face emerges pink, tearstained, with a wobbly smile that feels like a throwaway lie for a fool.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me. I’m so glad you’re—”

“Apologizing,” he interrupts. Like a quiet rumble, the purr of a prowling cat. “Ah, what did I say about that?”

“To stop it?”

Sasuke makes some noise of assent, from the throat rather than his lips. 

And he looks at her and knows. He’s learned, but has always intuited this habit of hers since Genin days, the way she plasters on a smile and flashes those bright teeth to disarm fools. How deeply mortifying crying feels to her in certain moments, the way it becomes an acute weakness and liability, especially regarding work. Families don’t want to see your tears, only your triumph — the way you’ve bowed to Death and danced, and depart at the end of the number with their loved one’s soul as crown and winnings. 

The problem being there’s rarely an expectation of anything less. 

Now he’s sitting up, still cradling her face in his hand. Mismatched eyes searing, searching, flickering rapidly across her face. 

“You’d better be off-duty now,” he says. “You look exhausted.”

“Oh, you sure know how to charm a girl,” Sakura sniffs. Leans into his hand and touch, raising no protests at the way his thumb continues to sweep away an endless estuary borne of things she can’t articulate. A gravity in her demeanor, at once present but faded into an unreachable inner sanctum and self. 

Instinctual, the way his fingers remain in constant contact with her skin, cheek to hair to shoulder, trailing warm down her arm and finally to her cold, shaky hand. 

Tugs her gently, indicating the space he’s made for her to sit. 

“I have to—”

“There is nothing; I’ve done it all.”

There’s nothing for her to protest, no way for her to pretend she’s fine. 

“Come closer.”

This act for her seems onerous, pulling her tired body into his lap appearing utterly spent, bereft. He keeps his comments to himself:  That she has staff for a reason, that their ex-sensei-turned-Kage works her too hard and he’d made a curt mention of it when reporting back, that perhaps someone could take the task of laundering bloody work clothes off her hands. Their responsibilities even in this delicate period they call peacetime still weigh heavy, principle baked into their bones. 

In the future, their children won’t know the world quite like this. 

She melts into him with her heavy head against his heart, his fingers continuing their simple repetitions in the tangle of her hair. 

Sasuke thinks of her shirt still soaking in the sink, one he labored on for a while before her return, desperately trying to lift the rubicund crimson from the white fabric.

Wondering if that one pulled through, for her sake. 

Her grip catches his attention, as if her head is spinning and she needs rooting to the earth — fingers in his shirt, head tucked under his chin. 

Sickle-cresents of leftover copper in the beds of her nails, the trials and triumph of a woman fighting back. 

She says something he doesn’t catch, a flutter, possibly I love you. 

What she does holds such importance, but he cannot imagine the cost. Pressing his mouth to her forehead, he speaks in a quiet chant in tender cadence with his fingers moving through her hair:

I’ve got you. 

I’ve got you. 

I’ve got you. 

[jadelotusflower]

Roundup: August 2021

This month: Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea, Don’t Call it a Cult, The Secret Garden, Showbiz Kids, Masters of the Universe: Revelation, Lucifer.

Reading Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) - I’ve been meaning to read the Wide Sargasso Sea for a long, long time, but first I thought I’d revisit the source material. I find my opinion hasn’t much changed - I still love the prose, still love Jane as a character, and still find Rochester extremely unappealing. The section with Jane at school is the most engaging for me, and her early time as a governess at Thornfield, but as soon as Rochester shows up I just find him so irritating I have no idea why Jane loves him so much (other than he was the first man to ever show her a scrap of attention). I mean, I know to an extent - I've read the Takes, and part of fiction is accepting what you want for the character as a reader and what they want for themselves can be two different things, and that's not the fault of the text. I can be satisfied by the ending because Jane gets what she wants, I just can’t help but wonder about a Jane who was found by John Eyre before she went to Thornfield, or who took her inheritance and made her own way after Moor House. Byronic heroes just aren't my thing I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Wide Sargasso Sea (Jean Rhys) - The first Mrs Rochester of Jane Eyre strikes an uneasy tone to a modern reader; she does not utter a word in the novel, is depicted as animalistic and almost demonic, her story only told in a self-serving manner by Rochester, and conveniently disposed of so Jane can return to claim him. Rhys reimagines Bertha as Antoinette, a “white Creole” of Jamaica in a postcolonial take on the racial/social prejudices and hierarchy only hinted at in Eyre, where Bertha being Creole primarily an aspect of her Otherness, and in which Rochester describes himself as being desired as a husband because he was "of good race" . In Sea, although Antoinette is white (passing, perhaps), he sees her "not English or European either" and this contributes to his rejection of her (and perhaps his willingness to believe she is mad). The novel is surprisingly short - it skips over the meeting and courtship of Antoinette and Rochester (tellingly unnamed in the novel) entirely, jumping directly from her childhood/coming of age to the couple already married, and over much of Bertha's (renamed by Rochester) sad life in the attic. Still, there's a density to the writing, much is implied beyond the sparse use of words and recurring imagery - subjugation, reflection, and of course, fire - when freed slaves (Rhys changes the timeframe to after the passing of the Emancipation Act of 1833) set fire to Antoinette's family plantation, a pet parrot whose wings have been clipped by her English step-father Mason, cannot flee and falls to a fiery doom, in a grim omen of Bertha's fate. It did, however, leave me wanting more - I understand Rhys' stylistic choices and restraint, but in her effort to give voice to the voiceless, Antoinette/Bertha remains somewhat an enigma. Don’t Call it a Cult: Keith Raniere and the women of NXIVM (Sarah Berman) - I continue to be disturbed but intrigued by the NXIVM case, not only because of my abhorrence of MLMs/pyramid schemes, but my bafflement as to how this thoroughly unremarkable man was able to hold sway over so many women. My mild criticism of the two documentaries on this subject was that they tended to jump around in time so you never really got a good idea of what happened when. This book provides a well researched, detailed summary of events and linear chronology of Raniere’s perverse pathology reaching all the way back to childhood, and so is both an excellent supplement to the already informed, and broad overview to those new to the case. Berman is a Vancouver-based journalist who was present at Raniere’s trial and gives insight into witness testimony, supported by her own interviews and extensive research. There's less of a focus on the sensationalised celebrity members, with greater emphasis on the lesser known victims - including the three Mexican sisters who were all abused by Raniere, one of whom was kept confined to a room for years. It's difficult reading, consolation being the

knowledge that Raniere is rotting in prison and that his crimes finally caught up with him. Watching The Secret Garden (dir. Marc Munden) - Spoilers, if one needs a spoiler warning for a 110 year old novel. One of those stories that is adapted every generation, and generally I have no problem with this, since new adaptations can often bring something new or be a different take on old material (see Little Women 2019). But a part of me can’t help feel why bother with this when the perfect 1993 version exists. There is an Attempt at something new with this film, moving the setting forward to 1947 (Mary’s parents having died during the Partition), and turning the garden from a small walled secret to a mystical, huge wonderland full of ferns and flowers and endless sun. But in doing so, the central metaphor is lost - rather than Mary discovering something abandoned and run wild, gently bringing it back to life with love and care, she merely discovers a magical place that requires no effort on her part. There’s also less of a character arc for Mary, remaining unpleasant far into the proceedings, forcing Colin to visit the garden instead of it being his true wish, and generally succeeding by imposing her will on everyone else. In many ways she’s more like Burnett's other child heroine Sarah Crewe - the film opens I’m with her telling stories to her doll including Ramayana, which is eerily reminiscent of Alfonso Cuaron's (also perfect) 1995 adaptation of A Little Princess. But I suppose a sliver of credit where it's due - Julie Walters' Mrs Medlock is less of an antagonist, with Colin Firth's Lord Craven being Mary's primary obstacle. There's also a subplot with Mary's mother's depression following the death of her sister being the reason for her neglect (and Merlin alum Rupert Young shows up briefly as Mary's father) but like shifting the time period, there just doesn't seem to be a point to it. The climax of the film involves the Manor burning down (writer Jack Thorne stealing from Rebecca too, lol), with Mary and Craven have a very calm conversation as fire and smoke surrounds them. It’s all very bizarre, but also…rather dull? Don't bother with this, just watch the 1993 film again. Showbiz Kids (dir. Alex Winter) - a really interesting documentary on the titular subject - Winter was himself a child actor on Broadway before his film career kicked off in The Lost Boys and Bill and Ted, and has been able to assemble a broad range of interview subjects - Mara Wilson, Evan Rachel Wood, Wil Wheaton, Jada Pinkett Smith among others - former child actors, those still in the business, and some up and comers like Disney star Cameron Boyce (who I was sad to see in the coda has passed away). We also follow two young hopefuls - Marc, attending acting classes and auditioning in pilot season, yet to book a job but his parents are invested in "his" dream, and Demi, already established on Broadway but having to start to make choices between a career and a childhood. There's no voiceover, no expert opinions in this, letting the actors speak for themselves, but there is a telling juxtaposition of Marc returning home, jobless but having fun in the pool with his friends, while Demi has to cancel the summer camp she had been so looking forward to because she has booked a new role. The film is fairly even handed, but ultimately I took away that there just seems to be more harm than not in this industry, and abuses of many kinds. It does make you wonder about the ethics of child acting, at least in the current system where the cautionary tales are plentiful. Masters of the Universe: Revelation (episodes 1-5) - Mild spoilers I guess? I was never really into He-Man as a kid, other than the Secret of the Sword movie, so most of the in jokes and references in this went over my head. I have to admit, it was actually seeing all the outrage that made me want to check this out and see what all the complaining was about. I actually…really enjoyed it?!? I’m sympathetic to the complaints of a bait and switch (creators really need to learn to say

“just wait and see”), but other than that in my view the rest seemed completely unfounded. Adam/He-Man being killed in the first episode and the impact that has on Eternia and those left behind is actually a really interesting premise. This isn’t a TLJ situation; in contrast everyone (except Evil-Lyn) is always going on about how much they miss Adam, and the whole point of the first arc is him coming back. There’s also a nice little detail of Adam in Preternia (heroes heaven) choosing to remain as he is rather than as He-Man where all his predecessors have chosen their “ultimate” forms. I love him and his Magical Girl transformation. As for Teela - female characters can’t win, it seems. If they are perfect, they’re Mary Sues, if they have flaws, they’re unlikeable. Teela is Going Through things and is on a journey, but I often feel (and it seems the case here) that people confuse a character arc with author intent. No! Just because a character says/does something it doesn't mean you're supposed to agree with them! Some of Teela's actions may be petty and her demeanor less than sweet, but people make bad choices as a response to grief, and I actually thought her anger over Adam never telling her his secret and how that manifested was a pretty interesting take. I'll be interested to see the next half of the season, and ignore the ragebait youtube commentary. One more thing - Evil-Lyn (perfectly voiced by Lena Headey) was an absolute delight. Lucifer (season 5 part 2): They’ve basically given up on the procedural side of things by now and are leaning heavily into the mythology, which works for me since the case of the week is always the least interesting part of any show. It also struck me this season that there’s gender parity in the main cast (Lucifer, Amenadiel, Dan and then Chloe, Maze, Ella, Linda) - and actually, that’s more women than men. How often does that happen?!? I can’t say I’m particularly engaged with the Lucifer/Chloe pairing, but am happy to go along with it since that’s where the whole plot revolves. The best scenes for me this season were with God’s Dysfunctional Family, even if the lead up to the finale felt rushed (I understand the need to wrap things up in case of cancellation but still). I would have liked to see more of the sibling dynamics between the angels and less romantic drama, but hey. The character death got me, as well. I didn't see it coming and I didn't realise how much I had enjoyed that character until they were gone and well...it got me. I see the last season is coming soon, I'm not exactly sure where they can go from here, but looking forward to it nonetheless. Writing I was actually quite sick this month with a throat infection, so wasn't in the best frame of mind to get anything finished like I had planned to. I'm going to hold off posting the word count this month and roll it over to September when hopefully I've actually posted things.

[swaps55]

Sam Shepard

Full Name: Sam Powell Shepard. His middle name is his mother’s maiden name. He hates his middle name (he and his mother are not on very good terms).

Gender and Sexuality: Male, very demi aro/ace. He tried sex with men and women when he was younger out of sheer curiosity, got nothing out of it, and proceeded to basically forget about sex entirely. He’s baffled at the idea of being in a relationship until Kaidan comes along. If you were to ask him about his sexuality he’d get a deer in headlights look and just point at Kaidan, because outside of him Sam has no fucking idea what he’s into.

Pronouns: He/him

Ethnicity/Species: I admit. I haven’t given much thought to where his parents are from, and probably won’t, because part of what makes him fun is that he doesn’t have roots. Earth is very unfamiliar, even alien to him. Oh, and he’s human.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Arcturus Station, April 11, 2154

Guilty Pleasures: The dumber the joke, the funnier he thinks it is. He loves media and entertainment that doesn’t make him think. He does enough thinking in his real life - he wants his escapism to be superficial and fun. He would love the 22nd century equivalent of MST3K.

Phobias: As a spacer, he’s really weirded out by nature. Especially bugs. Especially anything remotely resembling a silverfish. That’s too many fucking legs. Put him in combat armor and he doesn’t even notice bugs, but take him out of the combat armor and he’ll lose it at the sight of a creepy crawly.

After Alchera, he develops a severe phobia of extra vehicular activity. Which he finds frustrating, because he doesn’t remember the explosion. Last thing he remembers is pulling Joker out of his chair.

What They Would Be Famous For: To the general public, being the Savior of the Galaxy. To his crew, he’s famous for making the Galaxy’s Worst Cup of Coffee.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Illegally carrying a firearm, illegally discharging a firearm, assault, breaking and entering, harboring an illegal AI, mutiny, insubordination, making really shitty coffee. The list is…long.

OC You Ship Them With: Just Kaidan.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I’d love to say one of my ‘Yang marines, but honestly Aslany worships him, Pendergrass facilitates his insanity, and Beaudoin is too easy going to be bothered by whatever batshit thing Sam does next. But Kaidan is always on the verge of murdering him during combat.

When Sam served on the ‘Yang, his team would regularly borrow an M-29 Grizzly that was property of the Madrid, the lead cruiser in the ‘Yang’s flotilla. The chief tech in charge of that Grizzly, a gentleman by the name of Gamba Msipa, hates Sam’s guts.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: There’s a turian buddy cop comedy Garrus showed him that he’s obsessed with. As for books, when he actually has time to read he prefers popcorn fiction that allows him to turn his brain off. But if you tell anyone he’s read Forbidden Ops, Tali’s favorite human romance series, he’ll kill you.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: He doesn’t care much for military movies or books, because he spends so much time picking apart everything they get wrong that he doesn’t enjoy it. Exception: body count movies that do not take themselves seriously.

Talents and/or Powers: He’s one of those bastards who is infuriatingly comfortable in his own skin. He’s also a charismatic motherfucker when he wants to be. He can talk to you like he’s known you his entire life, but it’s a ploy to trick you into getting you to talk about yourself so a) you’re not asking about Sam and b) he can compile a mental dossier on your strengths and weaknesses.

But while he is very good at this, as an extroverted introvert it’s generally not something he can sustain for long periods of time. To get him through it he’s most likely imagining all the different ways he could kill you with whatever is within his line of sight.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’ll burn down the sky for the people he cares about. If you can get past The Butcher of Torfan, and get past the Commander Shepard mantle, you’ll find a guy who has a thousand-watt grin, is a lot funnier than you’d expect, will consume media he’s not into just because someone he cares about enjoys it, and, provided you’re the cuddling type, is a champion snuggler (spoiler: Kaidan is the cuddling type).

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He does not know how to be still for five fucking seconds, and he has this stare that’s a lot like a directed energy weapon. If you’re in his crosshairs, it’s not something you will enjoy. Even worse is when he looks through you instead of at you, because your very existence is inconsequential. Also, he will never let anyone else drive.  

How They Change: After Torfan, Sam was closed off, defensive, angry, and deadest against getting close with any of his crew. When you’re in a position to send people to their death, he figures it’s better not to know who they are. Problem is, that made him an asshole. His time on the ‘Yang helps him recognize how important to foster trust with your team and have something to fight for. He loosens up a lot by the time he sets foot on the Normandy.

…how he changes after Alchera is a whole other thing.

Why You Love Them: I fucking love Sam. He’s an enigma to everyone around him – pinning down what’s really Sam vs. what’s The Butcher of Torfan and the Savior of the Galaxy is a really complex task – he wears so many different personas based on what’s needed from him at the time. I love how badly he longs to just be Sam, but gives that up to be what others need him to be. Deep down he cares so deeply for the people around him at tremendous cost to himself. I love how important it is that he do what needs to be done without losing his soul. I love how afraid he is of becoming Saren. I love how genuinely funny he is, and how much he likes to laugh. Despite everything he’s been through, there’s a sense of optimism and hope you can’t shake out of him.  

I really love Sam.

[the-busy-ghost]

TSP S02E08 - Peace (At Last)

It’s the last episode of this strange show and tbh it’s a bit sad, because you know, I think I had fun. You have to give the actors credit for genuinely creating some moving scenes, and I will miss some of the dresses the costume department served up. On the other hand, the show was bizarre and nonsensical but that in itself was genuinely entertaining, and also I think that this was a piece of media which really lent itself to being pulled apart- it can be quite educational to analyse some of the balls to the wall nonsense in period dramas, and sometimes they really can offer new lines of enquiry that people wouldn’t otherwise think about. But yeah. Cast and crew must have had a good time making it and in some areas, the acting shone through, where it was allowed to. If anything half the reason this show was disappointing is because it had every opportunity to be much better. 

That being said, onto my rant for the week. 

- We start off with some sadly wooden Shakespearean-play-being-performed-live-on-stage line delivery which wasn’t really suited to television or this show’s established aesthetic. There were quite a few other places in the script this episode where characters said things in a rather cringy way that would have been much better on stage, or not said at all. Maybe it’s the writers, who knows. Bit disappointing though.

- I have to ask, why is Margaret Pole just letting Mary stand outside the door in her nightgown listening to all this? That’s rather negligent guardianship? Terribly contrived, 0 marks.

- Katherine and Mary’s scene in the chapel was sort of nice, pity we didn’t see  more of this kind of moment.

- AND we are back in “Scotland” (haha, right), and apparently we are picking up exactly where we left off in the last episode, with Margaret returning loaded with some trinkets from the English treasury. Presents for everybody. 

- First thought why the hell is this castle ruined. Did nobody tell Frost and Graham that all those ruins in the pictures of Scotland weren’t originally like that? Also I have no idea where Margaret is meant to be here. At first I thought maybe they’ll show a Fake Tantallon but her following lines indicate that she’s managed to get to the west land somehow? Very confused. 

- Who the fuck are the ‘men of Arran and Hamilton’. That is not how ANY of this works. I think what the scriptwriters mean is that Margaret has gone to the Earl of Arran and his retainers? But that’s not in the least how they should be referred to, it’s a deeply misleading line and doesn’t really mean anything. Also confirms btw that James IV’s kids were absolutely just set-dressing, since they had an opportunity for Moray at least to show up in 1524, but it seems that they have no relevance to the plot whatsoever so I have no idea why they were onscreen so much.

- “With English gold”- WOW ok, Margaret you really need to explain how you got that because otherwise it just looks like you’re acting on behalf of Henry VIII. Also did nobody consult their ‘Collected Works of Robert Burns’ before writing that line. But ‘assured’ Scots are a complex concept that I definitely didn’t expect the writers of TSP to understand anyway (and really more a feature of Mary I’s minority not James V’s).

- Anyway sorry Frost & Graham if there was any reasonable explanation for the ruined castle, the barbaric Scots stereotype, and the ‘English gold’ in this scene, I’m afraid I found it difficult to hear over the sound of your raging political agenda

- Also they’ve gone with a rather confusing motivation shift for Margaret here. Certainly, in 1523-4, Margaret was trying to discreetly recover control over the Scottish government while at the same time keeping Albany on side, but she couldn’t just march in there with the Earl of Arran and his pals and take it back. Her letters from this period (to Englishmen though, so maybe suspect) indicate that she was hoping that, while Albany was out of the country, the Scottish political community would get fed up with him jetsetting off to France all the time, decide that he had forfeited his rights to the regency, and support her aim of having James V declared an adult monarch in his own right (the ‘taking furth’ of the king). 

But in the context of this tv show, where nobody has indicated that Albany’s support is wavering at all, and where they have declared for the last few episodes that Margaret’s big problem is Angus (who, btw, from 1521 until early 1524 seems to have been sitting in a prison in France thanks to Albany) and that Albany is her ally, it is a very confusing character shift. Unfortunately it shows more clearly than ever that they really did not have enough space in their allotted ‘ten minutes of Fake Scotland per episode’ to cover the complexities of Scottish politics and indeed the enigma that is Margaret Tudor.

- That being said *now* I understand why they keep referring to James as the ‘heir’ to Scotland instead of the king. They’ve mixed up the ‘taking furth’ of the king which was supposed to bring the regency to an end, with an actual coronation and declaration that he was king. Once again, these are not the same thing. James was crowned within a fortnight of Flodden on 21st September 1513, in the chapel of Stirling Castle, with the support of all the leaders of the political community who mattered. In November 1524, by contrast, he was theoretically declared an adult ruler, which meant that his regents could be dismissed (and it helped that Albany, who had not returned from France by the date he said he would, had technically forfeited his rights). And if James happened to take his mother Margaret Tudor as chief counsellor on his ‘secret council’ well that was just his royal prerogative, done with the support of the political community as recognised in parliament.

- But still, contemporary rumours about Albany’s shady intentions aside, *to the best of my knowledge* nobody openly/directly challenged James V’s right to the Crown either in 1513 or 1524. James was the king from 1513, and any ensuing squabbles centred more around who should have responsibility for his upbringing and safety, not his rights to the throne.

- See what I mean about a two minute, ridiculously inaccurate scene being educational though? I could discuss the implications this nonsense would have had for sixteenth century Scottish politics for DAYS and when I go back to check my references for this rant, I learn even more. So like well done to TSP in that regard I guess. Maybe all historical tv shows should be horrendously inaccurate, and then they should do a behind the scenes series alongside it where they get actual historians (not like me) to go nuts and rant about the real history.

- Huge LOL at Mary in the next scene saying that Henry VIII supports Margaret’s annulment from Angus by the way. Not like, historically, Angus has just escaped France and arrived in London or anything. I imagine their conversation would have gone something like this:

Henry: Ah Mary, good to see you. You will be happy to know that I have had a change of heart and I support our sister’s annulment from Anguish, so you can write to Meg and tell her not to worry about him.

Mary: Oh that’s good to hear, I was always rooting for her, I- what’s that behind your back. 

Henry: What? Nothing.

Mary: Looks like the earl of Angus.

Henry: What? Er no, it’s er it’s just my Fake Beard. Lots of people get them mixed up.

Mary: Riiight. And you haven’t got a Scottish earl behind your back?

Henry: Not at all! Why would I have our brother-in-law behind my back? I hate that guy. Isn’t he in France anyway? Now would you go and get Wolsey I need to speak to him about, er... my beard. Yes my beard. It’s definitely not about a letter to Lord Dacre or anything.

Mary: Ok, absolutely believable, I will see myself out.

- Ok I’m getting carried away and actually, this rant is getting very long again even thought we’re only a few scenes in, so maybe I will split it into two parts so as not to clog up people’s dashboards. BRB.

[emeraldtawny]

Dazai Osamu Character Analysis: How Human Is He?

Before I get into this, allow me to preface this with a disclaimer: I AM NO EXPERT IN ANY OF THE TOPICS I AM ABOUT TO DELVE INTO, THIS IS JUST WHAT I INTERPRET PERSONALLY. This is just a fan of the character rambling about him and his real-life counterpart for the sake of sharing the thoughts rattling around inside my brain. However, I will link all sources that I used at the end of this so you may wish to investigate further if what you read piques your interest.

Okay, so… Dazai Osamu. This man is as much of an enigma as he was in real life (which… makes sense). Whether Cybird did this on purpose for a gradual build-up to his route or because he just wasn’t as popular a character, who knows? (I like to believe the former just for hope’s sake gbsdukgdx). Because we know very little about him in-game, the majority of what I will be mentioning will relate back to IRL Dazai. If you know little or nothing of Dazai Osamu, please proceed with caution if discussions of substance abuse, depression and suicide upset or trigger you. Consider this your disclaimer. Now then, let’s dive in.

History of Dazai Osamu

Born in 1909 into a wealthy family as Tsushima Shūji, that didn’t ease his early life from burdens. His father was a politician and often spent long periods away from home. His mother was often sick so he was mostly cared for by his aunt and the family’s servants. His father died of lung cancer when Dazai was 13, but he seemed mostly unhindered by the death of his father and continued through schooling before being accepted into the literature department of Hirosaki University in 1927.

Things started taking a more outward effect on Dazai around this time, the linchpin likely being the death of his idol - author Ryūnosuke Akutagawa - who committed suicide. He started losing interest in his studies, investing more time into alcohol and prostitutes. He also experimented in Marxism, even joining the Japanese Communist Party. His first suicide attempt was in 1929 - right before his school exams - by an attempted sleeping pill overdose. This wasn’t enough to kill him so he subsequently survived. He graduated from Hirosaki the following year, then moved to Tokyo University in 1930. There, he met a prostitute that he ran away with, prompting him to be disowned by his family. 

His second attempt at suicide came that year - an attempted double suicide with a young woman he barely knew. They threw themselves into the ocean. Sadly, she died, and Dazai was rescued by a passing fishing boat. He was suspected in the woman’s death, but his family’s influence saved him. He then married the prostitute he ran away with.

It was after this that Dazai began networking with established writers and started publishing his own works, his pseudonym of Dazai Osamu being established with his short story ‘Ressha’ in 1933. In 1935, he attempted suicide for the third time by hanging, failing once again. That same year, he suffered from appendicitis and was admitted to hospital where he developed an addiction to a morphine-based painkiller. He was admitted to a mental institution in 1936 and was forced off of his drug addiction. When he was getting treated, his wife had an affair with his best friend. With their marriage deteriorating, both Dazai and his wife attempted a double suicide - Dazai’s fourth attempt. They both consumed sleeping pills in an attempted overdose. Both survived and Dazai divorced his wife after this.

The 1930s and 1940s were Dazai’s golden years literature-wise. He wrote many novels and short stories. When World War II rolled around, he escaped being drafted due to tuberculosis. He continued writing through the war period and met and then married his second wife in 1941. They had three children together.

The last years of Dazai’s life produced his most infamous works - ‘The Setting Sun’ and ‘No Longer Human’ - in 1947 and 1948 respectively. Around this time, Dazai met a woman who he left his wife and children for to take as a mistress. On June 13, 1948, Dazai and his mistress committed suicide by drowning in the Tamagawa Reservoir in Tokyo. In a cruelly ironic twist, their corpses were discovered on what would have been Dazai’s 39th birthday - his fifth attempt was the one that succeeded. An unfinished novelette eerily titled ‘Goodbye’ was left behind, many believing this as his last will.

Dazai’s works became a cult classic after his death, his undertones of nihilism in a postwar society greatly appealing to the masses. ‘No Longer Human’ became his most famous piece, eventually being translated into many languages and is among the most popular books in Japanese literature. He inspired different movies and anime (and otome) with the story of his life and the works he crafted from his experiences.

(All info in this section is derived from Source 1)

No Longer Human’s Effect

When you think Dazai Osamu, it’s not uncommon to immediately think of his novel ‘No Longer Human’. Whether you’ve read the book or not, worry not, as I will not be discussing any plots in the book; I will instead address the overarching themes and (the lack of) conclusion and message the novel leaves you with.

Many consider ‘No Longer Human’ - and many other of Dazai’s works - as semi-autobiographical, as he took many of his story’s ideas from his own personal experiences. This is illustrated through the way in which he wrote his stories; focusing on first-person perspectives to an excruciatingly analytical degree. This was and still is known as the “I-Genre” in Japan and became a staple for Dazai, the viewpoints and mindsets he wrote his characters in portrayed very vividly in a way that made you question how much of it is the character, and how much of what he wrote was the author’s own words and feelings to the world.

‘No Longer Human’ is not a happy story. It follows the story of a man through childhood, university and finally adulthood - the story written in three parts as notebooks to show his progression of age. Without spoiling the contents of the novel in case you wish to read it for yourself, the story focuses on an overarching question: is being a human the solution, or the problem in and of itself? Throughout the novel, it’s clear of how questioning the main character is of this, almost to the point of obsession and compulsion. However, his language always shows how unconvinced he is; a “mundane and dream-like writing, incessantly miming the words “I think … ,” “I am … ,” “I could … ,” “I should … .” Dazai’s characters are never quite convinced.” (Source 2).

The character Dazai portrays is relentless in his self-examination, which leads to his estrangement - not just from those around him, but to the very species he is meant to be a part of. Estrangement is common throughout the story and “It is this fundamentally unhuman feeling that, paradoxically, reveals to Dazai’s characters exactly how human they are.” (Source 2). The inner monologues and conversations can be unsettling if you find yourself relating, alien if you don’t, but ultimately leave you walking away from it questioning even an inkling of what you thought was innate and normal. 

‘No Longer Human’ is not a story designed to tie up all of the loose ends it produces. Dazai leaves it up to you - the reader - to interpret for yourself. The character is infuriatingly, yet ultimately in character, indecisive in how he wishes to perceive the world; “To be a nonentity strangely indifferent to all the accoutrements of human life and society, and yet strangely drawn to the unhuman world of sky, rain, sand, sea, this is where Dazai’s novel ultimately leads, and it’s at this point that it has to end.” (Source 2).

Depression and Nihilism

I mentioned earlier that Dazai was admitted to a mental institution. From the sources I found, I couldn’t find anything concrete about why he was admitted aside from battling his drug addiction. However, mental illness was prevalent in Dazai’s life and it’s widely believed depression was a large part of this. Few recounts of people who talked with Dazai recalled his dark, wry tone in his writings, yet found his humour witty and oftentimes exaggerated (hmmmm…). Since I found nothing credible for this discussion beyond this, I’m going to step away from psychology and instead have a look at philosophy, specifically Dazai’s philosophy on life.

Again, this is just assumptions. However, I find this more comfortable theorising about over sensitive topics like depression and mental health (plus, I find this incredibly interesting, personally). You could argue that Dazai believes in sophistry - the use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving - but I’m inclined to disagree simply because of how deep Dazai digs himself into his own deception; if he himself believes what he tells others, I think it’s a more deep-rooted philosophy than false arguments. I mentioned nihilism earlier and this is what I ultimately believe is the philosophy in how Dazai saw the world. What type of nihilism is the question.

Most people think nihilism and assume the whole “God is dead, I feel nothing” hypothetical; I know I used to always assume so. But, of course, it’s not as cut and dry as that (nothing is simple…). There are different types of nihilism, but I will only talk about the one I think applies to Dazai. Throughout his stories, despite the gloomy atmosphere, there’s usually a(n attempted) glimmer of hope - a snag in the character’s mindset that draws them back into their repeating thoughts of what they should and should not perceive and believe in. Because of this, cosmic nihilism (also called cosmic pessimism) can be eliminated - Dazai’s characters don’t renounce everything they feel and take meaning in as illusions to make existing easier, they’re slightly more lenient in believing what they perceive.

I offer the type of nihilism I believe Dazai’s mindset for writing - and subsequently his actual mindset - falls into: existential nihilism.

Existential nihilism operates on the premise that there is no inherent meaning or purpose; “existence itself–all action, suffering, and feeling–is ultimately senseless and empty.” (Source 3). While not denouncing beliefs like faith and love like cosmic nihilism, existential nihilism relies on values being created and sustained lest they risk falling into the mindset that there is no hope, the world is truly empty and there’s no point in existing in a world that doesn’t even try to give you a reason to hold on. Existential nihilists don’t believe that happiness doesn’t exist; they simply believe that “miseries vastly outnumber pleasures, happiness is impossible” (Source 3) and, therefore, are constantly at odds with themselves over striving for this impossible happiness or simply leaving it behind to find something else to root themselves to reality. Many of Dazai’s character’s internal conversations echo this philosophy; they either despair over being who they are, or they despair because they can’t be who they think they are. In a specific example, they feel estranged and uneasy about how they think - being what they deem “not human” - or they feel trapped and alone in believing that they can’t be who they think they are, so they’re forced to play a character - a facade - for their entire life so as not to be discovered.

Search up ‘Dazai Osamu quotes’ on Google and you’ll find a plethora to read that seem to portray this very idea. Constantly battling within himself over what he should believe, what he should feel and, ultimately, never voicing his pain to the world itself. These two screenshots from the game seem to mirror this sentiment. 

Soo… what does this mean for Ikemen Vampire Dazai?

… Who knows? I don’t work for Cybird so I couldn’t possibly tell you sorry :3. The PV for his route had heavy implications of atonement and death being the only true salvation, so I’m intrigued on what angle they’re going to tackle that from, since Dazai’s reasoning for being revived was “well, death wasn’t what I thought it would be lol”. (Unless it’s a red herring… who knows with this eccentric man gbdukgdfx).

So… yeah. I just wanted to ramble and with his route dropping in Japan before April is done, I thought it was a good time to just ramble into the Tumblr void. Please feel free to broach further conversations about this, correct me if I slipped up anywhere or to just say you’re excited for his route (because I know I am huehuehue). 

Sources can be found here (Source 1 | Source 2 | Source 3)

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #164

Hey, not dropping the ball actually worked!

We’re just a hair’s length away from summer vacation, but unlike last year when Tomoko approached summer with not much consideration, she’s now taking a proactive role in deciding how to spend her last summer in high school. At first glance, Tomoko appears to have become a responsible, young lady. But as we soon will see, that can-do attitude may not be as refined as it looks on the surface.

Chapter 164: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Do My Best Starting From Summer Break 

There’s that time period during the day when most students have already left but school hasn't quite closed up. It’s pretty creepy, even more so before summer break when you’re expected not to stick around.

Have I mentioned Itou is a cute? ‘Cause she is.

It’s usually her looking after Komiyama, so it’s really sweet to see the dynamic flipped around like this. Despite, well, everything, Komiyama is a good friend.

Assuming that cheering for the baseball teams is optional, it’s endearing to see Itou go through with it. Even though baseball isn’t her thing, she’s likely doing it to support her bestie, which I can 110% get behind.

Ah, right. Dude’s in the manga club. That said, I wonder if their plans are for just being attendees, or if they’ll actually be manning a booth and selling their work. With his skills and, er, preferences, I think Hatsushiba could do the latter.

Don’t be so modest, Tomoko. There’s no slouching either when you’re a three-year veteran of the Going-Home Club. 

Studying during summer break? Outrageous!!

It’s intriguing to see just how Tomoko’s study habits have evolved throughout the series. The early days would see her spend summer goofing off on her hobbies, with bare minimum concern for academics. But now, Tomoko is actually considering studying on her own accord. Sure, it’s more-or-less a fallback when she has nothing else planned, but the thought itself is still worth mentioning.

Is that one of those mini-fans that you can carry around in your bag? I love those things.

Study camp, huh? Any other day, Tomoko would be apathetic to the idea, leaning more on the side of brushing it off. But having Katou bring it up makes all the difference, ‘cause let’s be real. Katou could ask her to sign up for a hostess bar at the Red Light District and Tomoko would still seriously consider it.

Miss you, Yuu-chan.

I second that, Komi. Fourteen hours of studying a day is brutal, even if that’s to be expected in what is essentially a boot camp. I’ve always questioned the efficiency of cram schools and the like, mostly because they seem to prepare more for short-term memorization than long-term understanding. But even it actually works in principle...

...I’m not sure Tomoko will be able to handle it.

Perhaps it’s just me, but it feels like Tomoko is overestimating her discipline for studying. She already struggled with Katou’s flashcards and study sessions that a whole training camp feels like it would have a more detrimental effect on Tomoko than a positive one. “Work hard, play hard” was never meant to be that extreme, Tomoko.

That’s...genuinely uplighting. Tomoko has missed out on several of the key “memorable” high school moments, and she usually lets it go with only mild regrets. But here, Tomoko’s actively trying to gain what she once lost. Sure, she’s trying to “game the social system” a little, but what did you expect? She’s a person, not a saint.

This was Yuu’s only line in this entire chapter. My girl deserves more than this.

Will the 2% of Tomoko’s personality that is tsundere ever realize that if you really “didn’t care either way”, then you wouldn’t have asked the question to begin with? Doubt it.  

That romaji tho.

It comes to the surprise of absolutely no one that Komiyama has some pretty...vivid fantasies about Tomoki. But what stands out to me is how deep into the relationship her thoughts go. Most people fantasize about their crush first in their sexual attractiveness, but only a few ever dream beyond that. Ironically, you know your crushing has gone off the deep end if you start thinking about them in domestic, SFW ways. Least Komi’s committed, yeah?

Gee, I wonder what’s that “and stuff” Tomoko’s talking about?masturbating

Nothing like a fresh bowl of Grossi-Os and Gross Juice to start the day!

If what Yuri says is true, then that would mean that she and Ucchi have probably walked to school together several times before–more than the couple of times we’ve seen, at least. And even so, it doesn’t look like they haven’t gotten much closer as friends, if at all. Some people just don’t click, I suppose.

Not sure how blind Ucchi is because anybody with a pair of eyes (beady or not) would see that Yuri has friends, even if you only count Mako. Poor girl just can’t accept the truth even when it's right in front of her face.

Ah, Yuri. Why can’t you just drop the “savior” act and just admit you want to spend time with her?

I’m inclined to agree about Yoshida, but who knows? She’s surprised us before. Mako's a safe bet, though. Especially if the former’s going. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Boy, does that take me back. It still blows my mind that all of Ucchi’s problems originated from one night of misunderstandings. The art nerd in me really appreciates the subtle improvement in Niko’s art style. The character models feel “weightier” and more consistent without compromising the stylization. 

You don’t see it in the previous panel, but Ucchi was totally blushing at the prospect of reliving her trauma/dream. Perhaps she was also looking to live out that ping pong match she never got.

I’m not sure if there was some kind of wordplay in the original text. Either way, it kind of sucks for Yuu-chan that she got such a “flattering” nickname when she wasn’t involved in that scenario whatsoever. Though it sure is a tad classier than Miss Akari “Dick Sister Jr.’ Iguchi.

It’s kind of (read: absolutely) frightening how Katou’s envy towards Yuu feels a lot more intense than Yuri’s. Perhaps it’s because Yuri’s so transparent that you know how to deal with her. But with Katou, that air of secrecy feels like a nuclear bomb about to go off. 

I always wondered where girls picked up that thing where they intertwine their fingers as a sign of affection. It’s precious.

Praise modern technology for convenient storytelling.

Wow, Fuuka’s already made her mark on Tomoko’s “bitch” list. Though exactly why she’s on that list now is kind of odd. I mean, yeah, she asked Tomoko about the whole fondling thing, and she unintentionally presented herself as a pervert for the whole “hair” thing, but Fuuka hasn’t really done anything all that terrible. If anything, Tomoko is probably expressing a rare bit of jealousy towards someone else supposedly perving on Katou besides her.

The most striking part about Fuuka’s inevitably failed plan is that she describes Tomoko’s appearance as “sudden”. It was touched on before, but it further emphasizes that Tomoko’s friendship with Katou was just as unexpectedly quick in-universe as it was for the readers. And in doing so, it brings us one step closer to the real mystery over why Katou is so enamored with Tomoko in the first place. 

Ya’ll know Sayaka’s got her homegirl’s back on this one. Let’s see (hopefully) how Akari screws it up. 

Chapter 58, mothereffers!

I don’t know whether I’d say Nico Tanigawa has been playing the long game, or if they just found a convenient throwaway to capitalize on. But the acknowledgment itself is very much appreciated. Tomoko may have forgotten, naturally, but us overzealous fans certainly never did! 

The chills, man. Chill’s right up the spine.

It’s certainly true that Tomoko’s words can be interpreted in a good or bad way, so it’s pretty telling that Katou’s gut reaction went for the latter. It suggests that Katou may actually have some insecurities that can easily set her off. Then again, a defining part of Katou’s personality is that she takes everything Tomoko says at completely face value, so maybe she’s starting to see Tomoko’s negativity even if it’s not there. Just more of the enigma that is Asuka Katou.  

Not a bad save, Tomoko. Countless battles with shame have made her quick on the fly. Unfortunately, while she’s improved at starting a save...

...she still doesn’t know how to end it.

It would’ve been a clean getaway if Tomoko had just ended about half-way in the above panel. But because Tomoko’s anxiety causes her to try and cover all the bases, she ends up rambling suspiciously. The part about Nemo isn’t even that relevant, but in her burst of defensiveness, Tomoko ends up saying things that could just exacerbate the problem even further.

Fucking shit, Katou is damn scary.

The one fortunate thing about Tomoko’s defensive rambles is that once she starts to cool down, her honesty starts coming out more organically. Self-deprecation becomes self-reflection, and brings to the forefront Tomoko’s endearing side.

Only Tomoko could spout such a cliché moe line and sound so pure of heart. Must be the irony. 

Aha. Ahaha. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

–that totally didn’t happen.

Tomoko, girl, you’re in the CLEAR! Stop trying to fan flames that have already been put out.

But on that note, it does affirm that while Tomoko is honest with Katou about certain things (perversion, laziness), she isn’t quite ready to be honest on anything that would paint Katou in a bad light. I’d say tha’st about 85% due to fear.

Death Flags raised all around.

I had a feeling that Nemo would take the plunge this time and invite Tomoko out somewhere during the summer. It seems like such an insignificant gesture, but considering that this is the very first time a classmate has asked to hang out with her during the summer, it warms my heart.

Hey now, Tomoko. Don’t get cocky when you’re maximizing your own goof-off time by taking a study camp.

The easy guess is that Nemo wants to go to Comiket. But really, it could be anything that Tomoko would have an interest in. And because it’s implied that Nemo is going for research purposes, it could be anything from a seiyuu panel (the last one went so well) to a hot spring to a hentai game company. Hope they bring Okada along...

Mama senses her daughter’s giving in to peer pressure.

Not gonna lie. This hand gesturing from Rena made me think that she was thinking about doing...something else.

Damn mind-in-the-gutter.

Even though Anna doesn’t appear to be the studious type, it’s pretty cool to see that she can respect people who are. Also, I dig the way she wears her tie (or is that a ribbon?). 

Emoji II really has become an honorary delinquent and it fits her perfectly. 

I guess no matter how much more grounded Tomoko becomes, she still thinks reading manga is legitimate practice for playing in real-life (though tabletop games may actually allow for some truth).  

Sub!Tomoko confirmed.

What a way to end a chapter. For the longest, Katou had always viewed Tomoko through a pair of rose-tinted glasses, always seeing the girl’s faults as endearing “quirks”. But as her soul-piercing gaze seems to indicate, Katou has reached a revelation about Tomoko that she can actually disapprove of. Whether or not it’ll shatter her illusion of Tomoko is still unclear, but how she treats Tomoko from here on out may finally give us a deeper look into Katou’s psyche. 

160+ chapters we’ve followed Tomoko, and we’re still learning new things about her. The very extent of Tomoko’s agency has always been a tad murky. She’s good at (poorly) executing short-term ideas, but hardly does she plan out and follow up on her long-term goals. Even her greatest milestone of making friends involved a lot of pushing from outsiders (Ogino, the most obvious case). That said, having to take charge of herself for once is inescapable with college on the horizon. How she goes about it amongst her various mom-friends may end up being Tomoko’s biggest personal challenge yet.  

[jenchwuq]

A couple of ultra-depressing thoughts I had during my Saints Row session today:

SR1 is really just the story of Chiara’s life getting worse and worse. She’s got a very laissez-faire attitude toward life in general, and I don’t think she really. Believe in regrets? But especially lately, I think she’s been having thoughts of ‘boy, I sure fucked up, didn’t I?’ 

Like with the I’ve got things organized, at least, it goes Vice Kings, Carnales, Rollerz. And imho, with that setup each set of antagonists gets worse. Like I love Ben, and y’all know I always wax poetic about my problematic queen Tanya. And he may be a little shit, but I even like Warren! The Lopez brothers and their people just feel generic to me. But then. The Rollerz--good lord, the Rollerz -___-  Literally the worst people ever. 

But back to Chiara--her time with the Saints begins with Vice Kings, so like. Okay, things are going great so far! Then with the Carnales, the Saints start getting into the drug stuff, and I remember Dex (at least I think it was him? Or maybe Troy?) talking about how it was a bad call and he wasn’t on board with it. She also felt really isolated and was very depressed during this period. And then the Rollerz. With Lin basically being offered up as a sacrifice, and that whole mess. And then, you know. Getting blown up.

And by the way, Lin was literally the only person Chiara actually talked to in the SR1 era. Actual conversations. She managed to push all her anxieties aside and just dive right in. And Lin was super sweet about it and never judged her or made her feel stupid or awkward or anything. And leave it to Chiara to develop another big embarrassing crush, but the thing is, she did love her. It was the first time she’d loved anyone--in any sense of the word--since losing her mom. 

I also feel like Julius’ role is. Much more...sinister? in Chiara’s universe. Like any way you look at it, even bare bones canon, he recruits the protagonist at a low point, i.e. literally saves their life right there in that opening cutscene. So that’s a level of influence he’s got regardless, but. In Chiara’s case, she is quite young and naive and especially vulnerable. 

He starts with all this talk about cleaning up the neighborhood, and I wonder how many Saints maybe started out thinking they were doing just that.

I just keep thinking about the SR2 scene where he’s talking about how the Saints were out of control and didn’t fix anything. And then he says the Saints just became Vice Kings who wore purple, but. I keep wondering, did Julius lose control of the Saints, or did he always know how things would go? Was he counting on things running their course? 

And I mean. He helped start the Vice Kings. He’d been in this situation before, so why not learn from his mistakes? If the gangs are the problem, why start a gang? He’s clearly not stupid, so why? 

I dunno, the longer I think about Julius, the more of an enigma he becomes. What is his deal? What’s his stake in all this??

[gaycrouton]

Value

Words of Love 22/27 [Mulder gets in a fight in defense of Scully.] (Also, similar to the one shot I posted last week, oops.)

Value: (verb) consider (someone or something) to be important; have a high opinion of.

If Mulder was being honest with himself, there are really only a few things in life he cherishes; Scully, his life’s work, and his sister’s memory. The order of importance has shifted over time, but in the last few years Scully has consistently been at the top of the list. He didn’t want it to come across in the sappy ‘she’s what keeps me going’ way, but in all actuality, she was what kept him going. He couldn’t have done this, couldn’t have come this far, without her dedication and sacrifice. His work maybe hasn’t necessarily gotten him closer to finding out the truth, but it brought Scully into his life and for that he would be eternally  grateful. She was his confidant, the only person he trusted, the woman he loves, and so much more.

Which is probably why he didn’t take kindly to people who didn’t treat her with respect.

Mulder was not a violent man, he never had been. Fighting just wasn’t something he enjoyed doing, but that’s not to say he never raised a fist. Today was just the first time in years.

It had been raining, so he figured instead of dealing with soggy clothes and shoes, he would use the track at the Hoover Building. He got a few odd stares, many people were simply surprised to see him emerge from the basement. He had been an enigma in the mind of many, actually seeing him must have been a shock. However, the problem didn’t occur until he was in the locker room.

“Did you see Spooky’s here? ” A taunting voice echoed in the room. Mulder was in the restroom, so he had the luxury of being a voyager. He was getting a first hand glimpse into what people actually said about him. He presumed it was going to be what he’d been hearing for years. He hadn’t expected them to take a turn so fast.

“Spooky Mulder? His hot piece of ass partner here too?”

“Do you think I’d be in here with your ugly ass if I had an opportunity to watch Dana Scully prance around in all hot and sweaty in skin tight clothes? Get a grip.”

Mulder had been taken by surprise at the vulgarity of the men’s words, but he had been in enough locker rooms to know how men could be. However, that didn’t stop his jaw from clenching in irritation.

“How the hell does that alien obsessed freak get a partner like that? No wonder he’s never been promoted, probably too busy getting hard over his partner to get any work done.”

“You think they’re fucking?”

“Hell, if he’s not fucking her, I will. She’s so tiny, I bet you could just throw her around.”

Mulder was on edge before, but now he was just plain pissed off. He knew the rumors, and he knew, much to his chagrin, that rumors were all they were. It didn’t bother Scully and it certainly didn’t bother him. This was just the first time he had ever heard anyone talk about Scully in this way. He knew others regarded her as attractive, anyone with eyes would, but the imagery of these men, who didn’t know a thing about her, throwing her around like a ragdoll just for their sexual pleasure absolutely infuriated him.

“Do you think she’s a screamer, or do you think she just whines and pants?”

“If you can hear the sounds she’s making, you’re obviously not taking advantage of those full fledged blow job lips. One time I was in a meeting with her, and I swear to god I didn’t hear a word that came out of her mouth. All I could focus on was the thought of ramming my dick down her throat.”

Mulder reveled in the sound of Scully’s voice. Her laugh, her scientific theories, her words of reassurance, her words of affection, he hung off of every syllable as if she was revealing the secrets of the world. Sometimes he would call her just to hear the sound. These men didn’t even care.

He couldn’t sit through anymore.

He stood up from the stall he had been in and barged out, greeted with the sight of three random men he had seen periodically around the Hoover Building over the years. Men who had probably never even had a conversation with Scully, let alone any other female. He moved over to his locker, glaring at them as he passed, but it didn’t perturb them.

“Well, speak of the devil.”

“Mulder, we were having a debate, maybe you would know the answer.”

He glared at the one who asked the question, a tech geek he saw in the lab occasionally, “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he said, making a grandiose gesture with his hands, playing bold to his audience of misfit men, “What’s Scully like in bed?”

“Christ, have some respect. You sound pathetic,” Mulder sneered as he entered his locker combination, getting out his bag and setting it on the bench.

“Lighten up Spooky, I was just curious. I personally am under the belief that she’d do whatever she’s asked. Usually when someone’s an uptight bitch on the streets, she’s a freak in the sh-” His sentence was cut off by Mulder’s fist connecting with his jaw.

To be honest, the rest was a testosterone fueled blur. Retrospectively, Mulder realized that going three against one probably wasn’t the best plan. He remembered a lot of hitting and kicking happening, but he was pretty proud with how he fared. After a couple moments, someone must have heard the scuffle because some other men barged in and broke it up.

When they were asked what happened, neither party spoke up. Mulder had started it, but the men didn’t want to face the possibility of having a sexual harassment violation on their records, which they knew would happen if they spoke up. Mulder wasn’t going to instigate it though because, as much as he wanted them to get reprimanded, he didn’t want what was said about Scully to be immortalized in an FBI report. She deserved better than that. In the end they were penalized for fighting on the property and asked to leave for the rest of the day. Mulder just went home, but he heard the other men talk about getting checked out at the hospital.

He figured he would be able to hide this, but heaven knows gossip spreads like wildfire, and after thirty minutes of being home, there was a frantic knock at the door. He didn’t even need to look through the peephole to know the whirlwind he was unleashing into his home.

“Mulder, I swear to god I can’t leave you alone for a second! A fight? What are you, a teenager? Since when did you even use the track there?” He knew she had probably prepared more when she practiced her rant on the way here, but her eyes widened and her tone shifted when she saw his face, “Oh my god, Mulder.”

She took a few steps across the room so she was standing right in front of him, delicately running her fingers over the bruises he hadn’t even looked at yet but could sure as hell feel. Staring down at her, he saw pure concern in her eyes and it warmed his heart. “Mulder, did you go to a hospital?” He shook his head and saw Scully morph into doctor mode in front of his eyes. “Of course not. Why did I even ask,” she muttered under her breath.

She pulled out a chair for him and motioned for him to sit down and he readily complied. Mulder never played sick or got injured on purpose, but any excuse to be doctored up by Scully was an opportunity he was more than eager to take.

She shimmied out of her jacket before disappearing into his bathroom, reemerging a few moments later with his five dollar first aid kit he bought at Walgreens. The fact she didn’t even have to ask amused him to no end.

She set the supplies down on the table next to him and started working her magic. “Are you going to tell me?” She asked while she was cleaning a cut that had apparently been on his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Are you going to let me know why I came into work, only to be met with an empty room and rumors you were in a brawl?” She spoke softly and he could hear her displeasure seeping through her words. She never liked being out of the loop. Especially when it came to him.

He didn’t know what to say though. He wanted to be honest with her, but he didn’t want to repeat those words back to her. He had paused too long because he would feel her normally gentle hands becoming a little rougher on his wound. “I just got in a fight in the locker room after my run.”

“I can see that,” she sighed sarcastically, “Why?”

“I just got pissed off.” The words sounded timid coming out of his mouth and he knew he was just adding to her burning curiosity.

“Wait, you were the one that started it?”

“No. Well-I threw the first punch, but I didn’t start it.” She threw him a speculative glance before putting neosporin on a band aid.

“Did they say something that upset you?” He let her hold his head still with a gentle hand as she placed the band-aid over the cut. Once free, he simply shrugged in response, hoping that was enough.

“Were they making fun of you, or teasing you in some way?” Her voice was laced with the nurturing concern that he had only ever received from her. She moved so that she was crouched in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. It was a power move so he would have to look at her. It worked.

She was relentlessly understanding and infinitely patient. He never questioned his love for her, but moments like these solidified it even more for him. He didn’t deserve the love and attention of this exquisite woman. “No-no. Not really.”

He saw the glimmer in her eyes as the lightbulb went off, her mouth dropping down into a small ‘o’. “They were talking about me, weren’t they.”

He couldn’t lie to her, so he just lightly nodded. She didn’t say anything, but he felt shame flushing his cheeks and the guilt residing in the pit of his stomach. Scully was a grown woman, she didn’t need barbaric displays of masculinity on her behalf. “And that’s why you started the fight, because they were talking about me?”

She hadn’t moved her position or her gaze, so she wasn’t too pissed yet. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Mulder, you’re not a violent man. What could they have possibly been saying to set you off that much?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he started picking at the skin around his nail to give him something to focus on, “They were being crude. Talking about you like a piece of meat, and completely disregarding you as a person. They brought up the rumor, you know, the normal one, and acted like I was to just join in . Like after this many years of working with you, all I can focus on is how attractive you are. As if I didn’t value our relationship or you as a woman, a scientist, a doctor, or an agent. You mean the absolute world to me. It just infuriated me and one of them called you a bitch and I lost it and went off.”

The silence after his rant was deafening as he waited for a reaction. He felt his heart hammering in his chest and his blood pounding in his ears. I said too much, I said too much, I went too far, I made her uncomfortable.

He froze when he felt her stand up, afraid she was going to walk out the door and leave. He was shocked when he felt her place a tender kiss to the crown of his head before wrapping her arms around his head in a sweet hug. His head was cushioned by her chest and he could hear her heart was beating in time with his own. After a moment, he tentatively raised his arms and wrapped them around her, hands meeting at the small of her back, pressing her closer to him.

He felt her words tickle his head more than he heard them, “I adore you, Mulder. Thank you.”

He didn’t know what she was thanking him for, standing up for her or the expression of his sentiments; but what he did know, was that he could never find the words to express how grateful he was for this moment. If he could be in her arms for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t give it a second though. It was like being home.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I've seen people compare and contrast Dean's pearl wish with his djinn dream in s2, but what are your thoughts on Amara giving him what he wants most and the pearl his heart's desire? Given one is his mom and the other his dad. And one needing to be reversed.

Dean’s heart… an enigma for the ages :’D We should throw in from the pile of other smaller instances, the largest plain text one, which is 4x14 and the siren telling Dean that he wanted a brother-figure most in another episode which dealt with manifesting desires… Though that one’s been argued to shreds and has terrible context even taking a straightforward read of it as what it says on the tin, because it’s to force discord between Sam and Dean in the run up to their worst falling out, and so it’s a replacement in a very sinister way rather than the cleanest comparison you make of Amara giving Mary - actual Mary - back and the pearl granting John - actual John - back, compared to every other instance of wish fulfilment along the way. 

Anyway I think it is clear Amara had the better instinct… I feel like we all know about Dean and his issues with John, and I think it’s very much that the pearl picked up on a desire to resolve these things, and especially maybe exactly what the episode ended up being for them with John - just the chance to see the family unit together, and in a way see off the dream of what was missing there. That Mary being back begged a question of why not John as well - why hadn’t Amara restored BOTH parents, and why wasn’t Dean’s desire that SHE read in him to have this completed family with John AND Mary. 

I think the episode dealt with it really interestingly because I keep laughing in disbelief that what I never thought would happen even subtextually but totally had been joking to myself would, was Dean “coming out” to John in some way that set up normative family values against family don’t end in blood aka the weird ass family that he’s collected for himself through the years. 

Even as far back as that quote’s original use in 3x16, Bobby’s supplanted John and steps in as father and a strong subplot of season 3 is Bobby taking on that role, with 3x10 having a lot of this between him and Dean specifically… The show then goes on to not only build this up over the years to the point that Bobby’s the better dad, but in 7x10 goes so far as to suggest that he had been historically, retconning their history just one shade further from the way in 1x22 Bobby comes across almost like a vaguely known family friend to the one who wanted to play catch with Dean and defended their right to be kids with John over the phone, almost to the implication that the reason in 1x22 they’re worried about going to Bobby because last time they saw him he threatened to shoot John… was over their parenting of the boys. 

Like, John not only missed out and has some serious trauma with his boys, but in the family unit the show holds up as better than blood family, Bobby has historically and firmly supplanted John over a long arc through most of the core part of the show and final iconic death episode, so even though Bobby is also dead, we have AUBobby back if we WANT to step-dad him back into the family via Mary, and regardless, it’s clear that from childhood to way beyond John’s life, Bobby set down a challenge and the motto of the show and WON, and John doesn’t actually have a place in Dean’s family unit; he has the place in the NORMATIVE blood family, the white picket fence nuclear family from 1x01 that we see for all of a few seconds before it’s destroyed. But the family that means the most to Dean by all accounts of the show from season 3 onwards is not one that actually includes John and the more people Dean adopts, the less John factors into this, until by season 13 and 14 he’s shuddering out of the last of it by getting to raise a son of his own from tentative horror about inflicting a childhood on him like what John did to them, to actually bonding with Jack and being a better father than John was - thankfully with much lower stakes and 2 other dads to pick up the slack for the hard stuff when he’s emotionally incapable of reaching out at first.

And then we have how in season 1, the entire arc is about finding John, and in 1x16 we get that conversation between Sam and Dean which shatters my heart every time I go through: 

DEAN: Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. (He returns to the dresser and is silent again, then once more turns to Sam.) You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us….I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.

SAM: Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. (DEAN looks heartbroken.)

DEAN: (sadly) Could be.

SAM: I don’t want them to be. I’m not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way. (He and DEAN share a look.)

And then in 1x20:

SAM (Grumpily) That’s probably what Dad’s thinking. Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.

DEAN So it is starting.

SAM What?

DEAN Sam, we’ve been looking for Dad all year. Now we’re not with him for more than a couple of hours and there’s static already?

There’s obviously like, a whole season of material on this but these moments stand out to me about what they want and how compatible the Sam Dean John team really is (without factoring in Mary being alive so there’s some more happiness to it all in what we saw).

In 1x16 Sam has John’s 14x13 idea of a happy end - of getting out of the life and being able to do normal human things and settle down and all that jazz, and John’s really sad that Dean never found it, and just sees a lack in Dean’s life. And then there’s the issue of having John around where obviously there’s a lot of reasons in the 14x13 set up that if it had been permanent it would have been better, but still what we saw was the very rosy honeymoon period of having John back. Like, they weren’t working a case together so we got no leadership conflict, but while Sam and John had the most heartbreaking chat to resolve everything between them, they also had one of those in the iconic “spent it on ammo” scene, which was, you know, wonderful and all, but then somehow John still ends up dying within the week after his last 3 conversations with Sam were all blow out arguments. And John in this episode was snatched from technically the middle of his falling out with Sam about Stanford, when he was coming from whiplash of disowning to wow damn the kid got big and competent and, er, hunter-y. Nullifying that argument from John’s POV just as Sam has lived just too much life to be mad about it when faced with a John of that era. Conveniently for their development in the episode, ya know. John was very cannily picked out of time for the perfect balance of emotions. Multiple time periods of John could be used for what he and Dean went through, but only Standford-era John could be chill and easy for Sam to handle like that.

So. We’ve got John nullified from being part of the core family and we’ve got him being potentially dangerous to keep around for a long time, even if we can assume the cheerful period would be longer. We still had, like, AUBobby. And whatever would have happened getting John up to speed on their lives and putting him to work. Sam is HUNTER BOSS now. Chief. King of Hell by default because the demons are all too scared of him to elect a new one. How’s John going to fit into a dynamic where even AUBobby’s acknowledged Sam’s the alpha? Sam’s issues in season 1 were largely being the kid still, helpless with being only 22 and relatively inexperienced at least compared to John and Dean even though he’s NEVER portrayed as incapable, he’s just struggling with being young and not being the natural leader his personality has always been and he’s always had trouble with. (the 1x10 fury about the kids thinking Dean is his boss is the best microcosm :P The actual argument of 1x10-11 in full explains it all though if you rewatch those 2 with this in mind.) 

And then why does Mary get to stay? First of all, just because they don’t have ANY experience of her, not as hunter!mom, barely as mom, and she’s a sainted concept with no personality so they don’t have a CLUE about who Mary actually IS and all the ways she can be flawed and weird and messy and like them and unlike them. In some ways a problem with John was always too MUCH John became a thing very quickly, while they’ve been thirsty sponges for anything about Mary. Dean remembers the tiniest specs of info about her and Sam is arguably in a worst place of not knowing at ALL. 

She also never got to fuck them up with trauma and getting a chance to fuck up and upset them as adults is wonderful because they get to go through Dramas and Struggles about having mom around and her doing crap things like sleeping with Ketch or whatever and like… that’s still delightful filling in gaps compared to them carrying enormous burdens from how John raised them… Even knowing Mary was a hunter and made the deal etc is a retroactive pain they only carry from season 4, so all their formative years she was a blank slate and John was causing all the damage. Even if we break John and Mary down to how they address Sam and Dean’s trauma, John shows up to make up for/free them from what already happened to them, while Mary arrives to fill in blank spaces and give them an experience they never had before. 12x22′s speech addresses all this in one way or another, about both the history retcon Dean’s had time to absorb since season 4, but also that the trauma came from John, and even the very setting of the childhood kitchen and Mary’s inability to see past her tiny children mirroring their inability to see past Mother Mary at times giving us how much they’re building their emotional landscape over this frozen-in-time leap of 33 years. 

Amara gave Dean forward development he needed most in a way that was ongoing development of a relationship over time, while the pearl resolves something that can be done in an afternoon, and free Dean to move on to a world beyond John and to embracing and understanding his own family values without the spectre of what John wanted for him… Better for them to all get a resolution about John, a good final memory, but then to accept that he came from the past, and to put him back there. While Mary is a scrappy disaster person just like them, and very much a living person with her own crap… John emerged like a ghost, and ~moved on~ like a ghost. But the unfinished business was on the living winchesters, rather than on him. 

… It was fantastically well done, I probably don’t need to say about how I feel on it :’) 

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 4

Warnings: Language. Angst.

Just shy of 3 months had swiftly come & gone. We spent most of our days together, and the easy casualty, and effortless chemistry between us still stood firm. The whirling wind of our relationship only just picking up, and I was intently reading the blatant, yet blindly mysterious novel that was Colton Ritter. He was romantic in the brawniest of ways, always keeping a solid arm around my waist, or his wide fingers locked around my bony hands when we explored the crowded sidewalks on our outings. Or on the rare occasions he decided to sleep over, he’d never settle to sleep in any position other than nestled into my back, his warm steady breaths exhaling into my hair, & limbs locked around me. There was a period when I had to reassure myself that he did indeed know my proper name, and wasn’t just calling me ‘his girl’ every time he addressed me to cover his flighty memory.

The fight was just shy of two weeks away, give or take. Two painfully anxious, grueling weeks away. Rightfully so, Colton delicately began to isolate himself a bit, applying his metaphorical “game face” makeup, if you will. However, tonight he had promised to skip out his usual third training session of the day & let me have him to myself. I tidied the throw pillows on the sunken leather couch on my way to answer his knock, and fluffed some fingers through my hair.  

“Hey, babydoll.”

He crossed the entryway with a wet peck to my lips & dropped himself to be seated on the center cushion of my couch, kicking off the heels of his gray trainers with a grunt. How on earth a man could make a sweat stained, beat-up hoodie look like a 3-piece suit, was an enigma I’d yet to solve.

“How’s my girl?” he smiled, using two fingers to playfully seduce me to fill the empty spot next to him. I made a pit stop grabbing the remote control so I could ready the DVD I had rented for us, then plopped beside his now relaxed frame. The ‘right at home’ manner he felt at my place, made the tiny space feel all the more cozy.  

“Perfect now,” I answered with smiling satisfaction, nuzzling into the warm crook under his arm. As a woman, I never like to think of myself as weak or fragile, small even. But the way his full, sizeable arm made me feel almost like a helpless child protected in the safe space of their own little hiding spot was an exception.

We’d barely made it 10 minutes into the movie before the tongue I’d been biting to keep quiet, broke free. “How’s the training coming? Is your hand still giving you trouble?”

Earlier in the week, I’d met him at Mac’s per his request, & found him wincing as the trainer pressured his obviously swollen, irritated mitt. He brushed off my evident concern, saying he had probably just “over did it a bit,” but the trainer shot me a clandestine glance, indicating that it indeed was something I should maybe be concerned with.

“It’s all good, babe. Nothin’ to worry yourself about, honest. Relax, huh?” He held up the wounded hand, wiggling his fingers as if to prove to me he was as healthy as a horse, and pressed a kiss to my temple.

I nodded my head at the obvious lie, resisting the urge to push the issue of my growing regard for him. My silky legs tucked under me, I lifted from the couch to retrieve some popcorn from the kitchen, strategizing the best way to mind my own business would be to excuse myself from the room for a brief moment or two.

I couldn’t have made it 3 small strides in exit before I was wrangled like a farm animal from behind.

“Hey 2-1, think fast!” He declared referring to the peeling vinyl number on the back of one of my dated team sweatshirts from high school.

Not allowed a moment to resist, he pounced from his seat, captured my limber body, & heaved me over his stony shoulder, adding a saucy pat to my rump for good measure. I squealed with pleasure as he whisked me off in the direction of my bedroom, shouting giggly words of objection mixed with powerless slaps to his widespread back along the way. We entered the bedroom threshold where he chucked me atop the plush white duvet of my full-size bed, my hair bouncing and scattering across my face. My arms outstretched slackly, he situated himself above me, dangling studiously rubbing nose-to-nose with me. I closed my eyes lazily with desire, anticipating the puffy lips I knew were approaching me.

“Highlight of my day about to be what’s between those soft legs of yours, Livvy,” he purred, causing me to shiver involuntarily as his gifted hands slid toward a southern destination. The airy hairs across my bloomed skin raised on end, the grips of his fingers leaving white scraps of pressure along the way.

The moment couldn’t have been more laced with passion, and elevated craving, and yet the wandering mind of mine I often coursed for overthinking, wouldn’t slow down.

“Colt, are you sure your hand’s okay? I just wanna make sure you’re in perfect condition for Mendez. I can’t have you going into this thing if you’re not 100%, babe.”

I knew right off I had made a hasty, unsuitable move. His sculpted jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with outrage. I searched his face for the man I’d grown to know, the one who held me in such high regard, always so playful & gentle. But this was Jekyll. His pupils almost rattled with offense, and I heard his neck crack from the fuming build inside him.

“Really? I told you I’m fine, Liv. Damn it!” He scoffed, and pushed himself off me, heavy feet stomping promptly down the hall, his sock feet ruffling over the area rug. I tossed myself over the foot of the bed after him, regretfully chastising myself for the poor timing.  

“You write articles about sports. You’re not a trainer for God sakes. I said not to worry about me, & I meant it, ‘ight. Just back off!”

I barely managed to hear the muffled last three words he’d growled at me from behind the door he’d nearly breached from hinges on his way out. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he held some tendencies of fuming anger, and maybe the occasional tendency for a tantrum. There had to be a dark hole of hostility buried in his psyche, let’s be honest. The guy made a career of bashing in the face of his fellow man. But never, did I expect to see those flashes of dander thrust upon me.

 I spent two days following his outburst lost in a thick fog of muddled questioning. The independent, headstrong woman in one corner was brushing off the barefaced disrespect and hissy fit he’d thrown, advising that I didn’t deserve such, and to run away with my head held high. However, the lovesick girl in the opposing corner who just felt the desire to be valued by a good man, told me to forgive my sometimes darkly pensive partner. He was under an extensive amount of pressure to make weight, and make sure he was properly armed on every level to defeat Mendez.  So, I called a draw between my battling emotions like any indecisive twenty-something woman would do. I decided there was no way I’d go groveling for some answers since I was clearly the innocent party in the episode. But, offering to hear him out when he did show his face, seemed rational.

Arriving home from work that rainy Tuesday, spitting curses to myself when someone had swiped my front row parking spot, there he stood. I picked the dry skin from my lip, organizing my plan of attack. I couldn’t go too easy on him and run childishly right into his arms. No, I was too unwaveringly thick headed for that. Earning my forgiveness wasn’t a simple task, but it wasn’t an impossible one either. As I ascended the concrete steps closer to the looming figure pacing near my door, I noticed he was drenched. His heather gray sweatshirt, now shaded to charcoal, and his teeth gently chattered behind blotched lips.

“It’s freezing out here, crazy! God, Colton! Come inside.”

I left him standing on the doormat to retrieve a set of clothes he’d left one morning after a jog that had led him here. A tingle eased up my legs remembering the shower fiasco that had resulted from his impromptu visit.

“Here, put these on before you catch freaking pneumonia.”

He emerged from the bathroom, his dripping hair standing in all directions messily just how I liked it. “What were you doing out in the rain, Colton? Are you out of your mind?” I knew deep down realistically there probably was a part of him that indeed was, but that was beside the point.

“I ran from my place to Mac’s this mornin’, before the rain. Except I couldn’t focus on my damn session for thinkin’ about you.” He snapped in my direction, tossing his arms up in a seeming surrender.

Was he blaming me for the fact that he couldn’t train? Trying to fault me for his lack of focus?

“Look, Liv. I ain’t the type a guy who gets into much of the feelings bullshit. But, I do know that I owe you an apology for runnin’ out on you the other night… and the yellin’. I’m sorry for that, too. My pop didn’t raise me as the type ‘a man who speaks to any woman like that. I need ya’ to know that I can promise, you’ll never see that side of me again, outside of the cage. Understand?”

He hadn’t looked to me until that moment. It was almost like the little speech he had just given, was partially aimed as a smack on the wrist for himself, too. I could tell he was sincerely ashamed of his erratic behavior, and who was I to deny the forgiveness his now child-like eyes desired.

“I get it. I shouldn’t have nagged you about the hand. That part of your life is none of my business, and I swear to stay out of it.”

The last words had barely escaped me before he swooped my nervous hands into his.

“Woah woah, hold it, babe. The fighting IS your business. Sometimes, you’re prolly gonna wish it wasn’t, truthfully. That’s not at all what I meant. You’re my girl now Livvy, so anything in my life, I want you a part of. The problem is, the other night when you kept askin’ about the injury, it wasn’t that I was mad that you were concerned. It’s just, I was tryin’ my hardest to pretend it wasn’t a problem. I didn’t wanna have to face that something could’ve really been wrong with my hand, or that the fight may not happen at all because I lost my damn temper during a spar. This fight is all I got right now, ya’ know? It could be make or break for me. I thought maybe pretendin’ it wasn’t hurt, would make it go away, I guess.”

How could I not forgive him? In that intimate moment between the two of us, only the pattering of raindrops on the concrete to hear, he’d revealed himself to me. A part of himself that I had the strong inclination most people didn’t get the pleasure of knowing. I was ready to dive completely in, head first, to whatever was slowly igniting between the two of us.

My small hand embraced his now stubble lined face. “Thank you. For welcoming me into your world, and for the apology.”

He slept over that night, my last conscious memory for the evening being tucked neatly into the deep pit of his arm and dozing off into sleepy oblivion to the light strokes of his hands to my hair. Heat waves rising from his naked chest, to my own creating a pocket of comfort amid the cracks of thunder.

 I awoke at daylight with an intense stretch to be a messy, pink penned note folded in the now empty spot where he had slept, his indention left heavy next to me.

Liv,

Didn’t wanna wake you. Headed to Mac’s to have doc take a look at the hand. Good luck today. Give that shit head Mendez hell for me.

Colt

TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha

[wisdomrays]

Insight, for God’s Sake!

QUESTION: The issue of acting with insight; could you please elucidate its meaning and how we can we practice it in our lives?

ANSWER: Basira (insight) means evaluating issues with the appreciative criteria of the heart, along with knowledge and experience. It means subjecting these issues to analysis and synthesis. In this way, one is hopefully able to analyze both the outward and inward dimensions of these issues. While sight (basar) means seeing phenomena in the material sense, insight means comprehending them with the eye of the heart.

In this respect, insight serves as a guide made of light helping a person find the truth and right – and showing others the path to these, too. It is not possible for a person devoid of insight’s blessed light to make a sound evaluation of phenomena, make syntheses and analyses, and reach the correct conclusions. As the Qur’an puts it, such people have hearts with which they cannot comprehend, eyes with which they cannot see, and ears with which they cannot hear. However, every organ should be used for whatever purpose it was created; the eye is created for seeing what it should see, the ear for hearing what it should hear, and reason for understanding what it should comprehend. However, since people without insight close up the doors of their hearts to the light of the revelation and the message of the blessed Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, they experience an absence in spite of the present reality. They do have eyes, mouths, ears, brains, hands, and feet, but they do not use these in accordance with the purpose they are created for. The Qur’an and Sunnah are mysterious keys, which can solve the enigmas at the heart of existence. However, as these people do not have possession of these two keys, they can neither open the mysterious doors of existence, nor solve the problems in both individual and societal life.

Multi-alternative Solutions

The Messenger of God drew attention to individuals’ responsibilities with the words: “You are all shepherds, and each of you is responsible for his flock.” Everybody has different duties with respect to their personal, familial, and social lives. A person may have a responsibility within a family, while others have responsibilities within a town, city, or even a huge country. In this respect, every individual is faced with the duty of administering, directing, and guiding the people he or she is responsible for in different fields according to certain degrees. Giving the responsibility undertaken its due depends on acting in company of the light of insight, which we briefly explained above.

To expound some more on the subject, if people who have come to a certain position wish to give this position its due and be successful at their tasks, they must filter all of the decisions they make through the heart and conscience—along with reason, logic, and judgment. Together with thorough thinking, they should view their surroundings with of compassion and love, not depriving any living being of affection, nor violating anybody’s rights. They should never sacrifice fairness and justice.

When we view the noble Prophet’s exemplary life, which is an ideal model for us, we see that nothing in his attitudes or behaviors contradicts sight and insight. In terms of both letting us know this truth and also our taking that Perfect Guide as an ideal example, God Almighty gave the following command to him in the Qur’an: “Say (to them, O Messenger): ‘This is my way: I call to God on clear evidence and with sure knowledge—I and those who follow me…’” (Yusuf 12: 108).

Here, God Almighty stated that both the blessed Prophet and those who follow his footsteps need to make their call within the frame of insight; and this means making the call by knowing, seeing, and hearing as well as taking possible problems into consideration and forming alternative solutions for each of these. We should not be content with producing one solution for a possible problem, but find two, three, four or even more alternative solutions according to the situation. Finding more alternative solutions means dealing more soundly with that matter—namely, acting upon sound mind, sound heart, sound soul, and sound feeling.

The Companions’ Horizons of Insight

As stated, this verse conveys that not only the Prince of the Prophets but also those who follow him should make their call upon insight. “Ittiba” means following someone’s footsteps. And the prime examples who realized this among the followers of the blessed Prophet were the Rightly Guided Caliphs. To point out their exceptional position, the Messenger of God stated, “Keep to my way and to the way of the Rightly Guided Caliphs. Cling to it stubbornly (literally: with your molars).”

Let me add that this is not an exclusive character of the Rightly Guided Caliphs; the lives led by other Companions had many similarities to theirs. Had there been a serious discrepancy between them, the community would not have welcomed them. There was a serious conformity of character between the Rightly Guided Caliphs, the ten Companions, and other Companions. And this conformity was based on their connection with God, acceptance of His Messenger, and welcoming the commandments of the Qur’an and Sunnah.

From this perspective, we can comfortably say that the Messenger of God was the prime example and the respected Companions following in his footsteps led seriously insightful lives. If it were not so, it would not have been possible to overcome many problems, both at the time of the noble Prophet and during the reign of the four caliphs.

11 Insightfully Tackled Cases of Apostasy

To understand the greatness of the problems that emerged in that period and how they were overcome, it is necessary to make comparisons with our time. In Turkey, we cannot tackle the problem of terror, which appeared due to years of neglect and heedlessness. But back in the early years of Islam, they tackled eleven cases of collective apostasy, three during the lifetime of the blessed Prophet and eight during the caliphate of Abu Bakr, may God be pleased with him.

It is estimated that there were about a hundred thousand Companions alive when the Messenger of God passed. However, some of them were children, the diseased, the elderly, and people who had newly embraced Islam. Ibn Hajar’s Al-Isaba, which cites the names of Companions more than any other work, mentions there being about ten thousand Companions.

These Companions dealt with problems that would make those devoid of eyes and ears able to perceive the truth moan with woe.

When the deeds of the blessed Abu Bakr are viewed, it becomes apparent that these problems would normally take some 15–20 years to overcome. Although his caliphate lasted a little more than two years, he crammed much into this short term. What a discernment, what an insight, what a sagacity for God’s sake! As the blessed Companions were personages of high insight, they saw what happened correctly, evaluated correctly, and—by God’s permission—made correct decisions about them. Even in the face of a possible problem, they came up with at least ten alternative solutions. Thereby, they fulfilled the duty under their responsibility in an immaculate fashion.

Insight! Where Are You?

Surely, as those who followed the Messenger of God did not remain limited to his Companions, later generations of Muslims also—as stated in the Divine verse—should call people to God’s way, and deal with all of their tasks, with insight. When matters are not dealt with by using sound judgment, a sound heart, and common sense it is not possible to overcome problems. In our time, since we are devoid of the blessed light of insight, we are most of the time unable to overcome the problems we face. We set the road for the sake of a solution but make matters into a terrible mess and virtually turn them into an equation with multiple unknowns.

The first people who became followers of the blessed Prophet gave this following its due in the true sense of the word. Given that the same target is shown to future generations of Muslims like us, then if we wish to overcome personal, familial, and social problems, we must act with insight. If we possess constant insight, scrupulousness, and vigilance, then even if the problems we face are made of granite—with God’s permission and grace—we will soften them, solve them, and then continue our way.

To conclude, given that the Qur’an invites us to act with insight on every issue, we should try to see what might happen some thirty years in the future by reading people’s characters, analyzing them, and identifying their position well. If need be, we should get matters analyzed by think-tank organizations and strategy developers, and then make a comparative reading of their results. If we really exert ourselves by racking our brains with the concern of “forcing our brains out through our nose”, then God will not leave these efforts unrewarded, and will show us the most befitting and correct way.

[jasonp43]

Just Don't Ask. {Damijon!}

"Never ask questions you don't want the answer to"

Its been a few years since the Supersons first teamed up, the unlikely partnership turned friendship between the Boy of Steel and the Son of the Bat.

At first neither Damian nor Jon could stand the other, it was an uneasy partnership based on nothing more than the will of their fathers and their duty as superheroes.

Yet as time went on the pair developed a sense of camaraderie, a mutual respect for one another, then eventually.. a bond, a special bond, one not so easily broken... a bond Jon feels is best-friendship.. but Damian.. well on Damian's end.. it feels like its something.. different.. something he's not quite sure he's ready to admit.

A/N: 1500+ words per chapter on average. Slow burn for the first chapter. Smut. Art by Sorah Daiisuke.

Chapter 1: Questions

~Third Person P.O.V~

It was a night much like any other, Superboy and Robin were out on patrol moving from rooftop to rooftop, scouring the streets for the slightest sign of trouble.

Yet.. something was different, they weren't bantering or arguing or anything. It was silent.. and that wasn't normal for either of the boys.

Jon was the first to take notice, eyeing his older, yet shorter friend in the corner of his eye. Trying to study his expression, his body language; sadly he isn't exactly good at either and Damian wasn't exactly making it easy.

It wasn't just the mask covering his emerald eyes, his face was cold and expressionless, not something unknown to Jon but.. tonight was different. His best friend seemed different, he puffed his right cheek in thought before sighing, deciding he'll confront Damian on their next stop.

Robin landed first, right at the edge of the building, he crouched and looked through a pair of high-tech goggles patrolling the streets, a few seconds later Superboy gently floated down behind his friend, eyeing his back, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey Damian.." Superboy began, hoping for the slightest sign of acknowledgement from the boy crouched in front of him. Nothing.

Jon sighed before he continued to speak "is something bothering you..? Cause I feel like something is definitely bothering you." Still no response.

"You know.. you could always tell me, you do.. kinda listen whenever I tell you my problems so I just.. I wanna say i'm here for-" Jon was cut off by Damian

"Shhh.." he went, placing his index finger on Jon's lips without averting his gaze through the goggles. Jon wasn't sure but he thought he felt an ever so slight shiver in Damian's hand when his finger first grazed his lips. He decided to ignore it.

"Look." Damian said, slowly pulling his finger away and pointing to an apartment building across the street, a group of three masked men each holding either a crowbar, a sack or a gun stood in an alleyway preparing to break in.

"Let's go kent." Damian said plainly as he stood up, shot a grappling hook to another building and swung across the street in one fluid motion.

"Mmnh.. ok." Jon said, following suit.

"So, you sure this is the place?" The skinniest of the masked men said to the largest as Damian and Jon watched from the shadows.

"What do you mean am I sure? Of course I'm sure. This building is full of retired veterans, ex-military guys too old to fight back and too rich to know what to do with the money." The man's smile grew wide "So yes. Sonny. This is the place."

"Fucking finally, after this I'll be able to pay my tab at Charlie's and I can buy us another round of drinks" The third man said as the three of them turned to closest window.

"Not if we have anything to say about it." Robin said, announcing their presence, leaping from the shadows and landing elegantly onto the pavement. His long metal staff extending in his right hand which he kept behind his back, with his right open and kept close to his chest.

"Oh great. Its the bat-brat. And you're all alone. One what.. 7 year old versus us? You don't stand a chance, so why don't you run back to bat-dad before this gets messy. Hm?" The largest among the men spoke, extending his gun towards Damian.

Damian's right eye twitched with irritation when the man incorrectly guessed his age. "I'm breaking that hand first." He said, eyeing the man's hand holding the gun.

Superboy leapt from the shadows, slamming hard into the ground cracking the pavement and hovering a small distance above it. "Yeah. We."

Jon's entrance obviously unnerved the three men more than Damian's. Damian eyed Jon, surprised and impressed by the half-kryptonian's 'superhero entrance' which he's been practicing for weeks... up until he saw a small tear in the corner of jon's eye. "That must have hurt more than I thought it would." He thought to himself, rolling his eyes, before throwing a swift-flying birdarang at the man's hand, causing him to drop the gun as he lept forward grabbing him and slamming his arm onto the pavement fracturing it.

Jon followed suit, taking on the most muscular of the group, weaving and ducking before countering, knocking the man off the ground with a single punch.

Jon turned to damian who was taking on the two other men at once, when he noticed.. Damian was different.. more vicious.. more.. angry than usual.. and that's saying something.

He was about to join in when damian shattered the largest man's legs leaving him a crumpled whimpering mess on the ground as the last man began to run away in fear, robin threw a bola at him, tying his legs up and causing him to fall over.

Jon began walking towards Damian "Uhm Robin is he.." Jon gestured to the man on the ground "Gonna be ok?"

"He may never walk again, but he'll live." Damian said, leaving an automated anonymous call to the cops.

"Uhm D-Robin.. can we talk..?" Superboy asked meekly

"TT. What? No. Not now. We have a long night ahead of us." Damian said coldly.

"Please.. I'm getting worried.. for me..?" Jon said, walking closer to Damian, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Damian shivered, and closed his eyes avoiding Jon's sweet and caring eyes. "Fine" Robin said, removing Jon's arm from his shoulder.

"TT. Wait." Damian said, noticing the man on the ground struggling to reach for his gun. Damian, stomped on the man's arm in an angle so that it fractures. The man let out a pained screech before Damian turned to Jon.

"But find us somewhere more private where we can talk." Damian said, Jon nodded at the older yet shorter male and hoisted him up with his arms flying out an above the rooftops. Jon could almost swear he felt Damian tense, ever so slightly he carried him in his arms but he played it off as him just being slightly afraid of heights.

Jon set Damian down on the edge of the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, overlooking the buildings and giving them a clear view of the night sky and the city's lights which seemed to twinkle moreso than the actual stars did.

Damian sat, his legs dangling of the side as Jon did the same sitting beside him, their capes fluttering in the wind.

There was a period of silence before Damian finally decided to break it.

"So. Are we just gonna sit here and stare or you actually going to say something? Cause if its the former we really should just continue the patrol." Damian said, shrugging.

"Mmmnh..." Jon began, playing with his fingers.

"Something's bothering you.. I can feel it, ok? And I.. want to help you, but you won't let me. So that's bothering me." Jon said, turning to Damian who stared blankly at the city.

"You're wrong Kent. I'm fine." Damian said.

"No you're not.. you're cold, colder than normal and you always keep our conversations short.. its like.. its like you don't wanna be around me anymore. Is that it..? Dami.. please tell me, is that it?" Jon said, his voice turning shaky in fear of losing his best friend.

"What? Hell no. Kent, don't say that. Don't you ever say that. Ok?" Damian turned to Jon, taking off his gloves and wiping a stray tear streaming down the younger boy's face, keeping them on his shoulders.

Damian is always so cold, so distant but its moments like this.. that prove to Jon that his best friend truly does care about him. And that made Jon smile just that little bit more.

"Then.. what is it Dami..? Jon asked, trying his hardest to read Damian's expression. It always seems like he's an open book to Damian, Damian always knows when something's up, when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's embarrassed, when he's lying.. but Damian.. well Jon can't even begin to hope to read or at the very least truly understand Damian. Damian's feelings have always been an enigma to Jon, no matter how close they got.

"TT. Its.. its nothing." Damian said, showing the first crack in his defense that Jon has ever seen. -(cut to next post, no space)

[apathetic-revenant]

I dunno there’s something that’s been quietly bothering me about most Sherlock Holmes adaptations for a long time and I think I’ve finally started to put a finger on it

there’s a lot of things about Holmes in the original canon that read as neurodivergent, y’know? and...I mean for god’s sake people have been arguing about every aspect of these stories for a century now, there’s obviously not a clear consensus and I don’t wanna be all “if you don’t agree with my precise specific headcanon you are personally oppressing me” or anything

but it feels. weird. to look at things about Holmes and have that feeling of “oh, that feels familiar, I get that, that’s me” and then time and again watch people go “wow, Holmes sure is full of such weird eccentricities, huh....so mysterious and unique, an enigma for the ages...a most singular figure, truly apart from all the rest of us, one of a kind...we can observe from a distance and marvel at him, but we will never really understand him...”

I mean apparently these are traits that people find interesting and compelling in a character because if anything adaptations almost always play them up even more than they exist in the original work (usually in one of two directions, it’s either doubling down on an “borderline-Wonka-esque misfit who’s brilliant but can barely function in society” angle or a “cold and emotionless calculating machine who’s brilliant but alienates everyone around him by being so closed-off/just a straight up jerk” angle)...but only as long as they’re Singular Traits of Sherlock Holmes that have no explanation. like the minute you ascribe any of those things to him being neurodivergent they become boring and ugh, you just ruined the character.

it’s hard not to come away from it all with a sense of “if you’re neurodivergent you might be intriguing to watch from a distance but trying to actually understand you is both impossible and ruins all the fun anyway.”

I don’t think that’s really the intentional message per se most of the time (although SOMETIMES IT SURE IS LOOKING AT YOU THERE MOFFAT) so much as a kind of underlying societal thing coming out there, but...it feels especially uncomfortable with modern-AU adaptations, because, well, obviously an in-period Holmes story isn’t ever going to give him any kind of modern diagnosis, but when you do put him in a modern context, and you’re still looking at these traits as things that exist outside of time or society, they’re just Sherlock Holmes Just Is That Way...

like the drug thing. in the original stories the reason Holmes uses cocaine is very straight-forwardly described: he can’t stand the boredom and lack of stimulation that he gets in-between cases. the default assumption seems to be that if Holmes lived today that same behavior would present in the same way, it would just be thought of more seriously because we have different attitudes towards drugs now. and if you look at that as “wow, what a strange problem, how could anyone be so bored that they’d turn to drugs just to be less bored, Holmes must have such a unique mind to need stimulation that badly” then that assumption makes sense; the method might change but the assumption is that the problem is so unique no one’s gonna know how to handle it no matter what time period he’s in.

but if you think of it as “that is actually a real problem that exists for people with ADHD because being chronically understimulated is sort of the whole thing about ADHD” then that problem’s not going to exist in the same way in a modern setting because we know more about it now! it’s still a super complicated and difficult thing to deal with on both a personal and societal level but we sure as hell have a better idea of what can help someone with ADHD than we did in 1895. but of course “Holmes takes prescription medication that helps manage his symptoms and improves his quality of life” is nowhere near as angsty and dramatic as “Holmes has a trouble history of drug addiction” so that’s probably never gonna happen.

I dunno. I’d just like to see it once, you know? there’s so many Sherlock Holmes adaptations, obviously people see tons of potential for different interpretations, why can’t there be room for this interpretation too?

[horowitzbekker5-blog]

Release Anything

My story is that an author that 'd done online composing for such dot gones as Themestream, Created By Me, and also The Vines, someone striving to have fiction, poetry and also nonfiction in print for real, suggested PublishAmerica. She claimed it was a conventional publication author. I was struck with their slogan, "We deal with authors the old fashioned method-- we pay them." Had not been that what authors were intended to do? However considering that my novel was simply resting on the DiskUs Posting site and doing nothing but providing me with sufficient loan to acquire a pair of skate laces every three months, I believed maybe it would have a better chance over at PublishAmerica where it would be readily available as a profession dimension book both on and also off-line. So this author, Ellen Du Bois, had a big thing on her Geocities website about publications being available in brick & mortar bookstores & they would certainly have ISBN numbers and also be online and all that things. Additionally had her full dimension publication hide so I rested there for 5 minutes waiting for the damn thing to show up. Not impressive, however she liked it. Ellen was a supporter for her book as well as sent out reviews from a weekly neighborhood cloth and also she bulk e-mailed numerous pieces of correspondence throughout those spirituous days when her book was in prerelease, after that launch phase in the summer of '03. I damaged down and got a copy from Amazon.com-- took virtually 3 weeks to get. And I battled to read all 176 web pages. Tripe. Clichés abounded. Spelling/grammatical errors weren't there at the very least. But the writing was slim. The tale relocated also swiftly. The primary personality was one of the most reasonable as it was probably based on the writer. The discussion was okay. The descriptions were marginal. Had there been an actual editor, the book could've been very good. I wrote to Ellen and told her the positive things about the story, preventing the negatives thoughts. She would certainly been an on-line correspondent for almost two years, yet after I didn't assess her book on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble she didn't contact me. Practically a year later she sent me one more e-mail-- to advertise a publication of her poetry. I was simply somebody to market a book to as well as she was just thinking about the sale and with any luck a radiant write up. A Future PublishAmerica Author Since I 'd currently authorized the agreement with PublishAmerica, I wished to cancel it after reading that trash. Currently my publication would be affiliated with a business that produced almost any piece of creating that came its way. I wasn't expecting a lot what with my dealings with the extinct eNovel and also RJ's digital books, along with a tiny digital book author named Crafts Throughout America where I had not been paid monthly as promised. And my unique as well as narrative collection suffered at DiskUs, residence of the alleged Number One Best selling digital book writer of perpetuity, Leta Nolan Childers. PublishAmerica sent me an author's questionnaire where they requested for basic biographical details; cover art tips, and a lengthy checklist of individuals who could intend to review my upcoming story. " Please prepare a listing (names, and addresses,) of individuals that know you all right to be curious about your success as a writer: personal friends, colleagues, loved ones, etc., to receive a publication announcement ... Please limit your listing and your tags to an optimum of 100 get in touches with. Likewise, please do not consist of companies or companies of any type of kind, consisting of book shops, media contacts, or government companies. Consist of buddies and affiliates just." The editing process of my manuscript took two weeks over the Christmas vacations. LA restaurants had the ability to determine that the very first few pages had actually been read as some minor modifications had been made, yet no adjustments adhered to for another 50 or so web pages. Among the mistakes that happened was plainly the outcome of a spellchecker on the part of PublishAmerica as an enigma appeared after the end of a declaration. I 'd check out of real authors obtaining guidelines to alter phases, change endings, erase various web pages, in other words, really struggle to rewrite a book. Why so much initiative? Names. Track record. The publisher intended to put their name on the most effective high quality book that they had purchased. The writer desired a publication that was salable but additionally well composed as well as something they took pride in. PublishAmerica's editing consisted of neither perfect as all they did was put the computer program's spelling/grammar mosaic right into action. My 2 complimentary writer's copies showed up in very early March as well as it behaved to see my trade paperback publication in print sans a cheesy cover and stapled spinal column. 'North of Sunset' really had good looking stock cover art of a couple of silhouetted palm trees, a noticeable font, and also a spine where the book title, publisher and also writer's name appeared. It would look excellent on book shop racks, I thought of. Testimonials-- What Examines? What was Publish America doing to make sure my book was evaluated? Nothing. I made a decision to get in touch with local everyday and regular papers by e-mailing a press release. The only responses I obtained were two e-mail autoresponders introducing the editors were on holiday. I invested $40 on copies of my book's galley and mailed them to 3 national papers as well as the Collection Journal magazine. Then I phoned a book reviewer at the 'San Diego Union-Tribune' and also asked if he would certainly want evaluating my publication yet prior to I can even describe what it had to do with, he asked who my author was. I told him. "We don't evaluate publications by that author," he mentioned. I called all the regional bookstores and also talked to the managers as well as/ or area relations individuals concerning my book, consisting of a number of shops that were literally situated on the road I 'd blogged about. An independent book shop proprietor told me that because PA really did not have a return policy she was incapable to equip my book. Another said that I can sell my book on consignment. The chain stores of Borders and Barnes & Noble said my publication would certainly be offered with Ingram if any individual selected to order it. Tried getting PublishAmerica to send out testimonial duplicates out and it took them weeks to do so. Had to call as well as make certain on 2 events that guides had actually been sent by mail. Maybe estimating one of their passionate marketers on the message board, an individual with a natural wizard for advertising and the budget plan to back it up, got 3 publications sent out to reviewers. After that I sent my book to Piers Anthony, kept in mind sci-fi as well as dream writer of greater than 100 books. I would certainly been in touch with him considering that 2000 when I notified him to the truth that eNovel was a rip-off. Although the action in his books usually occurred in alternate time periods/universes, he really did not mind checking out a mainstream Hollywood novel. He did so. "North of Sundown by Lisa Maliga. She's the one noted in my Study as I'm a Released Author Ha Ha! Ha!, a pertinent caution for starry-eyed aspiring authors. Her web site www.lisamaliga.com deserves checking similarly; she informs it as it is. If you took a couple of years off my age and altered my sex, the result might appear like Lisa. North of Sunset is fun, regarding a Hollywood manufacturer as well as his temporary secretary, revealing a bargain of what I assume is fact. It is written with the omniscient perspective, which I dislike, however it held my rate of interest no matter. " I would certainly found with a distressed author on the messageboards, which I keep reading occasion, that a person was whining concerning PublishAmerica. Uncovering the Absolute Write History Inspect area I invested several hrs reading, at the time, greater than 40 web pages of problems regarding PublishAmerica. Authors not obtaining books in time for booksignings that they set up themselves. Bookstore owners/managers rejecting to stock their shelves with unedited PublishAmerica titles. Writers not able to obtain their publications assessed. Doing a search on LexisNexis, the respectable on-line legal research study system, for all PublishAmerica publications receiving paper testimonials, I saw that from July 2002 to June 2004, only 24 books had been assessed across the country. Papers in Syracuse NY, Tulsa, OK, Fort Pierce, FL, Wilmington, NC and Lakeland, FL were stood for. Just Salt Lake City's 'Deseret Morning News', the 'Tulsa Globe', 'Pittsburgh Post-Gazette' as well as the suburban paper, the 'Chicago Daily Herald' were in fact major papers. Seemingly, the 'New York Times' or the 'Los Angeles Times' were not evaluating anything by PublishAmerica's authors. According to the PublishAmerica website in the Realities and Figures area, "Fact # 3: Once more, exceptional among all standard publication posting business, each day an ordinary 15 times a PublishAmerica author shows up in the news media, in newspapers, publications, radio or TV." Yet also mathematically tested folks can identify that by using the LexisNexis search stats, we find out that the standard is a puny when a month that a PublishAmerica book gets discussed in a paper somewhere in the United States. Editing-- What's That? Below's a treasure of a post on the PublishAmerica message board: "When it appeared in book develop a month back, my friends discussed the editing and enhancing issues in it, so a buddy of mine with a masters in education and learning went through it for me. It had close to a thousand editing and enhancing errors in a 182-page book. So, have some who really recognizes what literary web content should remain in a book, go through your publication for you before you send the final draft back to PublishAmerica. Due to the fact that the last draft, IS!, just how guide will be when it appears." I discovered that via the misspellings, grammatical mistakes, as well as basic poor writing that practically any person was publishable via the 'standard' author located in Frederick, Maryland. Such posts as: "I also am not the very best editor LOL! I did get my finished books. And when I consulted with a woman that is significant in the advertising and marketing area, she informed me that my publication at it's length of 132 web pages needs to have phases." A couple of PublishAmerica writers reviewed editing and enhancing. "I felt like you did when I found mistakes, yet after that I recognized, hey individuals read it for the tale, not seeking blunders in typo land! LOL Now I just keep a keepin on!" Sales Figures Question: I 'd actually like to recognize the amount of copies I've offered. Solution: Purchase all of guides on your own and afterwards count them. No matter how naïve PublishAmerica authors showed up, they will eventually concern the realization that PublishAmerica isn't really a traditional author, specifically when those twice-yearly aristocracy checks arrived. Every few months or two PublishAmerica sent them an e-mail proclaiming their success, extoling a heavyweight author they're discussing with, or, more just recently, doing a take care of the New York Times. On August 17th, an e-mail bearing the pleased subject heading 'Marketing Our Topsellers in the New York Times' appeared in author's online mailboxes. PublishAmerica was well named because they intend to publish any individual in The United States and Canada who has churned out a manuscript, despite quality. They declare to have anywhere from 9,000 to 12,000 "pleased" writers and also they want more and more of them as that undoubtedly suggests more money for the hoggish owners, specifically Willem Meiner and also Larry Clopper. The PublishAmerica name and logo is seen as a joke to those in the media, bookstores and also collections. Publications can not be returned. All PublishAmerica titles do not have the essential CIP [Cataloging-in-Publication] information, which is essential for collections to buy titles, and also who wishes to check out unedited and overpriced tomes besides the writer's cronies? Oh yep, and also while PublishAmerica asserts that they're a 'typical publisher' why on earth do they have in their major page keyword phrases note the term 'self publishing' three times? As well as in their website's summary, they boast: "PublishAmerica, Inc., a traditional publisher, approving and also publishing manuscripts and books at ON THE HOUSE to the author. Aristocracies paid to authors, books sold in shops. Manuscript submissions by mail and online" In the beginning of September I got a royalty check. To my shock, I was not only able to manage to acquire a set of shoelaces for my skates, I forked over the $12 it set you back to develop my blades. That recognized that this company would offer extra earnings allowing me to continue participating in my recreational skating hobby? Yet it cost me more than the $160 in author-bought publications, the $40 for galleys, which were possibly plunged into a recycling bin, the $87 shade calling card, $20 press release-- as well as the many hrs building and also reconstructing my website so people would take place throughout it and also buy a book that was only available online-- like any various other book. PublishAmerica enables the misconception of being a 'typical' publisher, a term not utilized before the development of the Web, to fester. The lie is perpetrated in those HTML resource codes that search engine spider robots deliver; the future writers led to the guaranteed realm of posting, a net web of woven myths fanning across the online world. PublishAmerica resembles most various other ePublishing companies guaranteeing tales of bestselling publications and authors. PublishAmerica is just another scam, just another future dot gone. If you are a PublishAmerica author, or know of one, that is sadly released and also will certainly tell your story, please get in touch with: Federal Profession Commission attn: CRC - 240 Washington, DC 20580 FTC Consumer Problem Form Frederick County Board of Region Commissioners Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Road, Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1100 Fax: 301-694-1849 www.co.frederick.md.us/BOCC/ John L. Thompson, Jr., President Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Street Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1028

Fax: 301-631-23 Discuss the following factors: Your publication is not offered in traditional bookstores and collections Your book is not returnable if a bookstore owner/manager must stock it 7-year-long contract is considered in inappropriate amount of time Your book is released by a vanity press You had to pay for your own copyright PublishAmerica will not look for the CIP, which allows it to be acquired by collections PublishAmerica overprices guides PublishAmerica offers a nonstandard price cut PublishAmerica's service version is to offer to their own authors PublishAmerica's books are NOT modified-- absolutely not line-by-line as they claim on their internet site but have actually since admitted that they only edit for grammar as well as spelling PublishAmerica approves about 80% of submitted manuscripts [most authors decline 99% of their submissions] PublishAmerica will just accept charge card orders over the phone when booking for one of their workshops or to purchase your own titles https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7pJcweygAg