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altschmerzes · 1 year ago

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I hope you don’t mind me asking but I was just wondering what relationships Jamie will have with Roy and Keeley in your baby Jamie story. Something I’ve really enjoyed in your other fics like The Same Story, and your most recent fic is the amazing friendship Jamie has with them. Obviously a lot of things are different in your upcoming fic, and their history with Jamie is going to be vastly different, so I was really curious.

i don't mind at all!! i love love love talking about this fic and this is one of the like. central components of it and one of the parts that's most fascinating to me to think about and poke at, roy particularly.

roy and he have the same antagonism that they do when we meet them in canon though it looks obviously very different because of the fact that yknow. jamie's fifteen and not on the team so roy is MUCH less aggressive/actively beefing with a teenager lmao but they do sort of..... roy is endlessly frustrated with jamie's attitude and the fact that jamie seems to, from minute one, hate his guts for absolutely no reason at all. it evolves over time as the story progresses from this kind of frustrated, baffled resentment to roy somehow now TWICE OVER landing in a situation where he is sort of parenting someone else's kid with them without really meaning to, that's just how it happened.

there's phoebe, who he's fulfilling a very directly parental role with (and as somebody who usually means 'mother and grandmother' when i say 'my parents' i loved seeing this on screen. he's not her dad but he is very much a parent to her) and then there's the way that he and ted end up sort of coparenting jamie together by the time they get him out of his dad's house. it's like..... it's complicated and not very clear cut, because while ted is very much Jamie's Dad at this point roy is like..... he's not jamie's dad but he is A Parent, much in the way he is with phoebe which is a very fun like. family dynamic to explore in all directions (roy and ted and jamie as a collective, what this does for roy and ted's relationship, the relationship jamie ends up having with roy's sister (who i'm once again calling sarah sdlfs) and phoebe).

(there's also some complex stuff in there about the way that i've adapted some canon events - including the city win over richmond in 1x10 which jamie still plays a key role in and roy's retirement and refusal to coach jamie when he came back which, jamie's not on the team but that Situation still manifests in a way)

and with keeley it's obviously EXTREMELY different since they are not, never will be, and do not even come close to being involved romantically or sexually, gd bless. absolutely not. so we, and jamie, are introduced to her as the girlfriend of the richmond captain prior to roy, a very briefly appearing man i've dubbed leo charles. and then she's around richmond doing PR because of the job rebecca gives her, which is when she and jamie start interacting more. and the relationship they have - which again i feel i must stress because you know how fandoms are lmao is completely platonic at every point - is a very important one to jamie because she like....... treats him like a person, not like a child. she asks for his opinion on things and actually listens, she has a respect for him and his thoughts that he hasn't seen a lot.

and compared to the others too there's this sense, even when those relationships improve, with ted and roy and company, that they feel like he's someone they need to protect and care for, which is true! they do! and keeley is protective of him as well, is aware he's young and has been badly hurt and needs looking out for, but that's not the role SHE directly has in his life so she's like. someone who he doesn't feel like thinks he needs minding, or whatever, she's someone he can go to if he needs to feel Normal and go check out the new hipster coffee shop that's opened in the area or give an opinion on an outfit or something. he admires her and thinks she's probably the coolest person alive, pretty much.

#gav gab #gav answers #long post #fic: wriggle up on dry land #writing liveblog #i still plan to have the first chapter of this up tonight or tomorrow btw #even with [waves at my life] all of the fuckening

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ratatattouille · 5 months ago

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just finished watching the good place and the finale was fitting for the show, but tbh, i've never understood the "eternity would be unbearable" thing. not "heaven" exactly but "eternity." to me, eternity makes sense. i don't think it's unnatural for a human mind because to me its like being present. i think that's why aging is startling for me. i have had very similar "boring" days throughout my life. and i'll routinely get bored of things and then get excited about them once my fatigue wears out. i don't know what it means to get bored of life. and when i have felt fatigued by it, that fatigue also passes, like all things. if i lived forever, i'd be completely unaware of it the way i'm unaware of the passing of time now. like yeah, i'll burn out if i eat grilled potatoes every night. but getting to eat grilled potatoes again would thrill me just the same. isn't that why you love things? don't you look forward to the things you love? don't you give them space so you can enjoy them all over again?

perhaps part of the point of virtues like patience, restraint, hope, courage, generosity, selflessness isn't strictly about "making the world better" or just taking care of those around you, but maximizing pleasure by managing yourself. taking time to do the difficult things so the pleasurable things don't sour. so you can actually handle your pleasure without it destroying you. your pleasures can go bad without balance. wealth will go bad without character. even happiness. and balance takes constant intentionality. it's a never-ending challenge in itself. mastering it will still mean you have to do it. you will never reach a place where saying yes will always be the right or healthy answer.

i'd also never get bored of people. even when they're predictable. it's one thing to know something about a person, but it's always new living side by side with that person. life is just endlessly fascinating to me even when there's nothing to solve or nothing new.

i'm fascinated by mystery, but i'm so so fascinated by the familiar as well. idk what it means to get tired of seeing the same waterfall or butterfly. i will always fall in love with the full moon. eternity would not weigh on me because i simply wouldn't notice it. i'd just be waking up again, sleeping again. meeting the people i love again. i don't even think about it now which is why death always feels so sudden. i subconsciously assume where i am will always be like this and it always feels dynamic. there's always something about it.

i think the good place's idea of heaven/paradise is a critique on hedonism, but what it is ultimately, is an acknowledgement of human finitude. you're not meant to have everything on MAX all the time as a human. that's what's unnatural and that's what makes things tiring: constant oversaturation and overstimulation. you can't have too much all at once. at least not with this brain and body.

also, does endless comfort make for dull people? i think it depends. i know i would want a world without suffering, but i don't think that has to mean living in a world without difficulty, mystery or pain. maybe, actually, it's not even suffering i would avoid. maybe i just don't want a world with injustice in it. i think that's a better idea of paradise. because there's certain levels of pleasure (like catharsis) that simply can't be accessed without initial stress. it's kinda like the whole capitalism thing.

i don't want to be exploited or "hustle." that doesn't mean i don't want to work hard at something. i want my work to be well compensated. not to not work ever.

i ALSO don't think death makes life meaningful. i think humans are meaningful beings that create and communicate via meaning. we create meaning constantly. we don't find it and nothing gives it to us. i don't think that would change if we were immortal. it's literally just who we are. it is as dynamic as we are.

i also don't think endless life could ever be boring. i think the worry here is "unchangingness" or "stagnance." but i don't see why immortality would have to mean nothing changes. i think life perpetuates itself by changing. i think life would not be possible without change, so why would endless life mean changelessness? we can't ever know everything because everything is constantly changing. including ourselves.

i can't grasp being tired of that.

except that change would imply death of some kind. and that's where the grief comes in. yet also the triumph. idk. i just love life man. even when its hard. the main thing for me is not being isolated. suffering to me is abandonment and silence.

that's what i can't bear. not being with others. not meeting someone on the other end (if there is another end). that's what scares me. the fact that nonexistence means no one is there. not even me.

anyways. good show.

#the good place #mine #existence is a miracle of multifaceted shapes #existence is a native yet alien form of life #existence is a bewildering party #you know things once #but you understand them so many different ways too

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 2 years ago

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What are your top five books? Favorites, most influential, whatever you want to choose on the basis of is fine

Oh wow I’ve been mulling over this for a few days and it’s fairly difficult! I’m going to go with most formative for me, the ones that I go back to every once in awhile and I’m like “Oh. This explains a lot.”

1. Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

This should shock precisely no one. I read this book as a baby and it changed my life lmao. The unmasking monologue (“know that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you”) is forever ingrained into my brain, I could recite the entire damn thing at any time. It’s a story I’ve honestly mostly outgrown at this point. But it really laid the groundwork for me as far as taste in literature, tropes, and themes go. The sheer gothic melodrama, the core painful arc for Christine of navigating her mixed feelings surrounding Erik’s murderous obsession survive her, and Erik’s sheer wretchedness. The story meant a lot to me through most of my teen years, and I definitely related to the abusive, suffocating dynamic though I wasn’t consciously really aware of it at the time. I think this book was definitely my gateway to like realizing an interest in books about trauma, even, or perhaps especially, when couched in convenient stylization. And yeah for all that it’s probably impacted me the most out of anything else I’ve ever read.

2. Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice

I know Interview is like the hot thing now but also I was obsessed with this book as a tween. Which is frankly somewhat too young to read this but 🤷‍♀️

There’s just something about the style, the introspection, and the way the characters interact. The way everyone in the Vampire Chronicles just have these endlessly complicated and tangled relationships that burned itself into my psyche lol. I probably also internalized a lot of Rice’s pacing problems for a bit there.

3. The Snow Queen Cycle by Joan Vinge

This is an older sci fi/space opera and honestly I haven’t read it in years. I have no idea how it’ll hold up. But it definitely fostered my love of space opera, and evil queens. Arienrhod was like the og bitch, I loved her so much lol. I recall a lot of the later plot actually annoyed me, but it’s definitely one of those things I look back on and realize how much it’s influenced me.

4. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

I’ve said before but I had a weird little book club as a teen where a bunch of my friends would gather and I would read it aloud? And the very experience of reading it like that was just as formative as actually reading it. But I just love a lot about this story and the sheer messiness of it. Catherine as a deeply flawed protagonist definitely rewired my brain.

5. Yevgeniy Onegin by Alexander Pushkin

This one’s so short it might as well be a novella. I read it back in middle school and it just stuck with me! It was also my entry into Russian lit and it’s really interesting because it is itself commentary on a lot of classic literary devices and tropes in fiction. And the process of like going back to see what exactly it’s referencing and what kinds of other stories make up it’s context and language was fascinating. The conceit of translated poetry also really gripped me at the time, and especially pertaining to classics, how many translations there might be. And the individual translation choices of like which metaphors to keep, what to sacrifice for the stress and meter etc.

#honorable mentions to dracula and crime and punishment #all the bendy punctuations #I ramble sometimes

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thedragonnerd · 4 years ago

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Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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shewhospeakswiththunder · 5 years ago

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Perhaps you’re feeling bored at home or, if considered an “essential” worker like me, you need a little fun and stress relief. Here is my masterpost of fic recs from my two years of reading so far. Maybe you’ll find something new, or reconnect with an old favorite. Either way--

Enjoy! 😷💕

Reylo Fics that Deserve All the Love

Near Kinsman by englishable

Englishable is just one of the best writers I’ve encountered in fandom. This historical western mail order bride AU is top notch quality.

The Masochism of Self-Defence by greyorchids

The Reylo dynamic in this Boston PD AU is steamy, but also heartfelt.

So Much Thin Glass by walkingsaladshooter

Never knew I loved modern day Gothic AUs until I ran across this one.

Heaven Forbid by DarkKnightDarkSide

I was stunned by the author’s creativity in this Priestlo fic. So smutty. So... inventive 😉🔥

Sonder by deathbyhumidity

Two strangers passing each other by on the train. Soft, dreamlike, somber, poignant. Modern AU.

And Still I Would Remember by Inmyownidiom

A Victorian era AU of two souls that parted and come crashing back together.

So, You've Decided to Glamour a Human Girl. by selunchen

Faeries AU! Ben, a fae, and Rey, a human. Shenanigans ensue.

Live Long, and Prosper by SaintHeretical

For the Reylo Trekkies. Hell, even if you don't do Star Trek, read this. PHENOMENAL.

Mr. Solo & Miss Wellfound by LinearA

“Regency/Victorian AU, Ben sees Rey's stockinged ankle by accident.”

Diyari by Nervoustouch

Modern archeologists AU. Snarky banter with dashes of Indiana Jones, The Mummy, and Sahara vibes.

Drawn to the light of your burning sorrows by Kyriadamorte

The Mothlo AU you didn’t know you needed. Both gritty and soft.

Crown Glass by RebelRebel

Fantasy AU, with lots of beautiful imagery and engaging character dynamics.

Kohelet 3:16 (Call Me A Cab) by LinearA

NYC Jewish Leia and Ben. Skillfully layered plot, nuanced characterization. Smut is HOT.

By the Shores of Varykino Lake by hipgrab (merrymegtargaryen)

Unhealthy dynamics, definitely read the tags. “There’s a lot of fucked-up-ness”, in the author’s own words. But it’s good writing. Fair warning.

Let Me Put My Darkness In You by ArdeaJestin

Canonverse. Hux is an insufferable, pompous ass and Kylo Ren writes terrible, melodramatic poetry.

Wintertide by Zabeta

Whimsical and primitive in turn, this lives up to the style of a true fairytale AU.

The Forty Thieves by PoetHrotsvitha

Peaky Blinders/Gangsters AU. Rey starts as Ben’s bartender and ends up as so much more.

I Said to My Soul, Be Still by LinearA

Dark!Rey takes her man. 🥵🔥💕

Hux's Rousing Pep Talks by Riels_shorts

This fic is hysterical. It’s not Reylo, and I don’t care. My list, my rules.

It's All I Can Do To Leave You Alone by TazWren

Office AU. Silly, spunky, with a bashful Ben.

Sip the Honey Sweet by dietplainlite

Anne of Green Gables-esque/Edwardian era AU, the title really says it all.

The Pull to the Light by HarpiaHarpyja

Entrancingly macabre. This modern/fantasy/monsters AU catches your attention from the get-go, and never lets you off the hook.

lay then the axe to the root by sciosophia

All the Bronte goodness, plus smut.

The Golden Age by TourmalineGreen

Golden Age of Hollywood AU in which Ben is a jaded actor in serious need of an image fix, in the form of fresh-faced actress Rey.

Never Be Your Curse by Kate_Reid

Kylo Ren is a go-go dancer in this AU. That was enough to get my attention 😘

Gallows God by Killtheselights

Bursting with deliciously grim imagery, an intelligent take on Norse mythology.

Thunderstorms, Clouds, Snow, and a Slight Drizzle by aNerdObsessed

Who doesn’t love an ugly sweater Christmas party? Ben Solo, that’s who. All the nostalgic wintertime feels in this modern AU.

Though My Soul Has Set in Darkness by englishable

It’s not long, but it’s good. A lyrical dive into the mindspace of child Ben Solo. A true gem. Also not technically Reylo. Still don’t care.

I Dare You by tinylittlebrain

Daredevil Kylo has pissed off ER doc Rey Kenobi for the last time. Spicy!

stuck in colder weather by redbelles

Professor Ren stops grad student Rey from biking home in a snow storm. And takes her to his home. You can guess where this goes 😉

Between Sky and Sea by nessalk

Serious Indiana Jones vibes with a Caribbean flair. Painstakingly researched, and moments of true beauty and joy.

But Before Tomorrow by Kate_Reid

Such good writing. Canonverse.

The Sword of Prince Hector by englishable

Exploration of what redemption might feel like for Ben, canonverse.

if compassion be the breath of life, breathe on me by Victoryindeath2

All the angst and unknowns that we were left with in the wake of TLJ are soothed in this canonverse piece.

build a ladder to the stars by redbelles

An exploration of events post-Crait. Fantastic, beautifully written.

nor are we forgiven (which brings us back) by TolkienGirl

Both Kylo and Rey get to see what life would have been like if they both got exactly what they thought they wanted after TLJ. Fascinating read.

Forsworn by Erulisse17

This Mando/ST crossover has everything you could want--action, witty banter, space romance! So much fun!

Reylo Favorites & Classics

One Shots

59 Minutes by delia-pavorum (literaryminded)

For Science by KyloTrashForever, ohwise1ne

He Made It Through the Wilderness (somehow he made it through) by LovesBitca8

light carries on endlessly by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)

Grey by ocjones

The Idiot's Guide to Flirting by Violetwilson

High School/College AU

I Caught Fire by KyloTrashForever

Mountain Springs High School by animal

Epithumia by pontmercy44

Soul Searching by OptimisticBeth

Office/Workplace AU

Sensual Storytime by andabatae

The Food of Love by LovesBitca8

Historical/Dystopia AU

Hiraeth by Ferasha

a manner of virtue by neonheartbeat

The lamb's thirst by animal

Wanted by Inmyownidiom

She Who Would be Queen by sasstasticmad

go i know not whither and fetch i know not what by voicedimplosives

ABO

Knot My First Time by KyloTrashForever

Canonverse/Canon-divergent

variations on a theme of you by diasterisms (Reydar)

i will be the wolf by diasterisms

Sky Marked Souls by AnonymousMink

The Death of Kylo Ren by nymja

World In My Eyes by sasstasticmad

i'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) by diasterisms

Catch Me I’m Falling by violethoure666

Sword of the Jedi by diasterisms

You'll Be the One to Turn by postedbygaslight

Dark Crown by Violetwilson

Harry Potter AU

Nocturnal Studies And Other Peculiar Magic by WaterlilyRose

Otherwise Modern AU

Pretense by Celia_and

Insta-heart by slipgoingunder

Serotonin and Dopamine by pontmercy44

The Elusive Mating Dance of the Porgus Adorabilis by andabatae

Hanging by a Moment by crossingwinter

WAR DOGS by fulcrumstardust

miles from where you are by Mooncactus

Charcoal by luvkurai

Stay by jeeno2

coarse and rough and irritating by frak-all (or_ryn)

Blades Crossed by the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Embers by sciosophia

Mitan, Midi by animal

Janus by englishable

Say My Name by Graendoll

Thank You for The Music by hipgrab (merrymegtargaryen)

darling, so it goes by akosmia

This is the Sign You've Been Looking For by RebelRebel

Broken Things by midnightbluefox

One-Night Stand by delia-pavorum (literaryminded)

The Rebel Side of Heaven by jeeno2

On The Bumpy Road (To Love) by violethoure666

we could plant a house, we could build a tree by Like_A_Dove

I’d Like My Obituary to Hint at a Sequel by Violetwilson

Only If You Want To by Violetwilson

Not Reylo, Still Awesome

Gingerflower/Gingerrose, Armitage Hux/Rose Tico

Between Sand and Sea by Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01)

If Ever I Would Leave You by Weddersins

Her Yellow Rainboots by Weddersins

Merrical, Cal Kestis/Merrin (Jedi: Fallen Order)

The Stars Alight by FlyingMachine

Heavy Ice by FlyingMachine

Caltrilla, Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri (Jedi: Fallen Order)

No One Else by xanderwilde

call it what you want by xanderwilde

tear you to pieces by xanderwilde

Dramione, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter Universe)

Now Is A Gift by SenLinYu

Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll

Zutara, Katara/Zuko (Avatar: the Last Airbender)

oracle bones by an orphaned account

Fics by Me

Virtue Ethics

Reylo College AU (completed)

Dr. Ben Solo, adjunct philosophy professor and part-time martial arts instructor, discovers a young woman in his Intro to Philosophy course whom he thinks may not actually be enrolled at the University.

Chiasmus

Reylo Role-reversal canonverse AU (WIP)

Scourge of the galaxy, Kira Ren, is tasked by the First Order to eliminate the last of the Jedi. When she captures hotshot podracer Ben Solo to extract Luke Skywalker’s location from him, things do not go according to plan.

This Dance of Light, This Sacred Blessing

Snapshots of a modern Reylo AU. Smutty, prosey one-shot.

Listen Up, Kid

Canonverse Reylo Post TLJ one-shot

The ghosts of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's past are back to haunt him with a vengeance. A well-meaning, familial kind of vengeance. Or, A Star Wars Carol.

Ben’s Body

Reylo Modern AU (completed)

Rey is an up and coming sculptor specialising in human shape and form. Her new next door neighbour has a body to die for and she's determined to preserve it in marble forever. Now she just has to convince dashing and reclusive Ben to model for her. Preferably naked.

Growin’ Up

Reylo High School AU (completed)

Ben Solo was supposed to only be ruining his own life with his bad decisions. Rey Niima was just trying to pay attention in class. Both get stuck in detention.

Seven Texts, 2 AM

Reylo Modern AU, smutty one-shot

Ben has good reasons not to have sex with his neighbor, Rey. She has other ideas.

Song of the Forest

Reylo Fantasy/BatB/Fairytale AU (completed)

Once upon a time, a girl with an unknown past appeared on the doorsteps of a lord’s manor, and now the forest at the edge of the lord’s property is calling to her.

A Season of Frost & Warmth

Modern Reylo P&P AU (completed)

When Ben shows up to a Halloween party with no costume, it only confirms Rey’s certainty that he is the world’s biggest jerk. Until it comes to light that maybe... he isn’t.

Follow Me Home

Modern Werewolf Reylo AU (completed)

Rey gets stone drunk and brings home a big cute husky she found in an alley. The next morning, she finds a naked man built like a fridge sleeping on her living room floor, and no dog in sight.

The Gentleness That Comes

Reylo Modern AU one-shot

Underground boxer!Ben is resigned to his life of violence, until he meets a pretty new bartender one night.

Unlikely, Unbidden, Unbound

Gingerflower canonverse AU (WIP)

General Hux is imprisoned by the Resistance when the First Order falls. He had known his death was coming, it was simply a matter of course. He’s disappointed to learn the Resistance has other plans, and an unwavering policy of giving people second chances.

@thereylowritingden @reylofic @nancylovesreylo @grlie-girl @lilia-ula @greyforceuser @tazwren @mhcalamas

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cherubchoirs · 5 years ago

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tell us more abt the bad end akira and goro relationship after it all........

(this is a bit of newer ask but since i posted reformed bad end art tonight, i uhhh...figured i should answer!!)

SO the reformed path of my bad end au is...honestly...VERY self-indulgent and just out of my own curiosity. initially i thought it up because i don’t like character death and akira dying in my bad end au, while i considered it “canon”, bummed me out and i wanted to think about what his recovery would be like instead should the thieves be able to save him. HOWEVER...the events of the third semester in p5r along with the shuake dynamics it presents made me think a lot more on the idea and i wanted to pursue it more concretely in that context!! so!!

MAJOR P5R SPOILERS UNDER THE READ MORE!!

things between akira and goro in this path of the au are...tense, strained, and generally complicated given their positions. akira has had his heart partially restored by the bonds he created with the thieves and by reuniting with arsene, but he isn’t who he once was. his memories are fractured, hazy, and still mostly absent, and while some of his mannerisms have returned, he’s still overly rigid and operates most comfortably in very defined parameters. he is, essentially, a being that is fused with the metaverse, with yaldabaoth, and so he still remains inhuman without hope of salvage, still impacted by cognitions and unable to survive in reality for any long period of time (he has taken up residence in the velvet room). he does experience an implicit trust of the thieves and his confidants and he is endlessly fascinated by humans and his own previous life as one, but stress can cause him to lapse into his ideals under yaldabaoth to almost totally forget himself until he can snap to again (and he’s always embarrassed by his behavior).

this limbo state, a nonhuman that was once human and only really emotionally remembers his friends and loved ones, causes both akira and goro to feel oddly split from each other. goro is left with the burden of every memory, the rivalry that turned into something neither of them expected nor perhaps even wanted but ran to without reservation, how they fell in love when they were meant to destroy each other. akira has a sense of something special with goro, different than his other friends, but only goro remembers them competing at darts, only he remembers sharing a coffee or cake with him, only he remembers the promise they made to see who could be the very best between them. goro can recall every word, touch, and kiss exchanged between them after their games and their fights, but it’s all reduced to a curiosity to akira: human competition, human romance, it’s things he’s forgotten and looks at like an academic almost, sterile and without attachment. and yet...when goro speaks with him and closes his eyes to that blinding white that coats him now, he hears akira, the akira he knew and fell in love with. he’s surprising him again with his observations and witticisms, his whip-smart intelligence is back, his bizarre and off the wall sense of humor is even returning in shades. he plays with him, he says things he knows will push goro’s buttons or fire him up and he knows it full-well, but most importantly, his ideals are there again, flickering and faltering sometimes, but he corrects himself of his own accord when they do. he doesn’t remember so much, their history, he isn’t even human and there’s so much he can’t understand that goro knows was once instinct, and yet akira is there.

and it hurts him so much that akira had so failed him, that he even let himself become this, that he was so weak he let himself become a puppet...but didn’t goro once do the same? it’s so painful to know akira could be as weak as him, the boy he so admired for being so free, so unfettered and so sure of himself, that even he could fall the same and let himself be tricked with such obvious manipulation. it shatters that perfect illusion, leaving akira more vulnerable than goro wanted to admit, and it both strengthens and softens that “hate” he had for him. he hates seeing him be so stupid and so pitiful, but it makes him less ideal, so much more like goro in so many ways. coupled with his lost memories, this is what drives goro’s complex feelings toward him now: he isn’t akira, not who he once was in reality and not who he once was in goro’s mind, but he is so unabashedly akira too, raw and real and not whole but flawed and carving his path forward again. goro sees him struggle, watches him suffer under this curse of his lost humanity, the loss of his memories and his own hatred for his choices...but he never excuses them. he owns what he did and presses forward in whatever he can achieve now, wanting to be human again even if he never can be, wanting to use his new position in whatever way he can to strive for better. his fire, his strength of character, and his resolve are all there, tempered by terrible mistakes to do better next time.

and for akira’s part, he recognizes he and goro had something different together, his trust of him is different. he’s still working on processing emotions and he doesn’t understand what he feels for goro, no memories to guide him and so used to feeling nothing but righteousness and occasional hysteria. but as a being of cognition, he knows goro feels erratic near him, toward him, emotions volatile and oscillating in a way that troubles akira to the point of feeling unstable himself. it makes him keep his distance for both of their sakes, still operating based more on logic than human emotion as yaldabaoth had instilled in him: if his presence causes distress, it is best they not meet as it will, without doubt, cause suffering for goro. but being apart from goro seems to cause suffering on his end...an emptiness that he struggles to define and one that goro feels as well despite his frustration at being in love with a ghost.

all of this hesitation is put to the side, however, when something goes wrong with reality - akira begins getting nagging headaches that come with the distinct feeling of the metaverse returning. he’s rattled enough that the metaverse has survived yaldabaoth’s defeat, but possibly more worrying, to him, is the fact that he feels a sense of disconnect from mementos. he is fused with the metaverse and so should never feel as much, yet he feels severed from the cognitions of others and the very scenery of mementos which once existed as an extension of himself. he attempts to reach out to the thieves about it in their dreams via the velvet room, but none of them share his concern and even brush it off...without prompting, however, goro comes to him with similar concerns, the metanav back on his phone and demanding answers from akira. but when he sees akira is clearly shaken too, when akira claims without a single doubt this has nothing to do with himself or yaldabaoth, goro takes him along with him back to reality as a test based on his own suspicions. they find akira can exist just fine there, no exhaustion gripping him as it should when he tries to venture into reality, so goro already knows the metaverse must have fused with reality before akira can even confirm it. AND SO the last piece i drew of them was actually them on the train to odaiba, where akira’s headaches get increasingly worse until they reach the palace there. it’s appears very similar to a safe room to akira, where the palace and the stadium are vying for the same place in space while goro and sumi see the palace’s hazy form. they know they have to investigate, and it’s there that they meet with maruki, of course, who akira feels immediate pity for given how similar his position seems to be to what akira’s own once was. however, maruki says they only reject his reality because he’s still working on their dreams...they’re just a little more difficult to manage, but don’t worry - they’ll be saved too

#BASICALLY neither of them are good with emotions lmao #just in totally different ways and it's hard for them to process #also i'll be making a comic based on where i left off here #i have the script for it so i'll be starting it soon #SORRY THIS WAS LONG I HAVE FEELINGS...#p5 #p5r #akira kurusu #goro akechi #shuake #bad end #p5r spoilers #persona 5 royal spoilers #Anonymous

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eroticshortstories4women · 6 years ago

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Cunnilingus . . .

There are a lot of women out there, that actually don’t want their pussy licked. Some prefer intercourse, others find it’s too sensitive, or doesn’t feel as good. I mean sure it’s okay if she truly doesn’t like it. Each woman is unique. But…. lets not forget the fact that the clitoris was designed for only one purpose, and that purpose is pleasure.

A lot of women that don’t like their pussy licked, often aren’t sexually satisfied, intercourse may make them feel like it’s enough, mainly because she simply doesn’t know there is a “ next level” of pleasure beyond what it can offer. This especially applies to women that aren’t actively exploring their sexuality, and their favorite position is missionary.

You can always tell the difference between a woman who orgasms and a woman who doesn’t. Even in simple daily interactions with women. The happier go lucky cashier at the grocery store that is always lively and energetic, with a zest for life, that woman is having orgasms. The woman that fights for 2 hours to get 12 cents removed off her bill…. isn’t. It’s a state of being that can easily be distinguished.

The female orgasm removes stress, and anxiety from her life. She is able to feel good in her body, and since orgasm charges her body, rather than drains it, like in men, daily problems don’t have the same impact. They don’t create a negative state of being, she can easily see the problem, and respond, rather than react to it. In other words, a woman with frequent orgasms, tend to make better decisions, and remain in a positive mindset.

While intercourse may provide some orgasmic benefits, it’s really nothing compared to an oral orgasm, especially from a submissive male in a D/s FLR. The reason why so many women don’t feel like they want oral, or it’s that their too sensitive, is mostly because men suck at it. When it’s not done properly a tongue can be like sandpaper on a sensitive clit. No wonder she doesn’t want it. She has to be in the mood for it. And that is the problem for many women.

I’ve talked about female desire before, and how a lot of women feel like they should be the desired ones, without having their own desire. Without having her own desire, her body doesn’t get sexually charged the same way. If she does have her own desire, she’s going to crave any kind of stimulation she can get, especially in a D/s dynamic. Many women that discover their dominance, suddenly start craving feeling her submissive’s tongue, because her body is sexually charged, and she needs a release.

That’s what makes a D/s FLR so interesting, because it really does unlock female sexuality to the point where, she’s going to crave sex in multiple ways and want to explore what her body was designed for. When she has a submissive to direct exactly how to orally please her, without a male trying to make his best guess on how to please her…. Cunnilingus has a whole new dimension and a whole new meaning.

The extreme attentiveness of a submissive male, his focus and attention to her pleasure only, is a level of pleasure that will take her beyond any kind of intercourse. The intimacy of having his face between her legs, and his tongue working in a manner that makes her extra sensitive clit ignite with pleasure, can’t be overstated. She’s going to be grabbing his hair and directing exactly how much pressure and where she wants, and she’s going to writhe around on the bed to explosive orgasms that will make her fall deeply in love with cunnilingus and her submissive’s tongue.

She’s going to start to want it more and more often, and as she denies him sex, maybe with chastity, it’s only going to turn her on more and more. The depths of female sexuality become unlocked, and she will begin to discover herself on new levels. Confidence will skyrocket, life will get easier, and better, and her relationship with her submissive will become cherished and adored and something neither of them can live without.

So eat pussy. It’s the doorway to heaven, for both, dominant and submissive.

He Truly Loves Me!

I know my hubby loves me, because he finally let me lock his cock in a chastity cage - and although sometimes a little reluctant, He humbly ends up assuming his position over my knee for his corrective spanking.

Yes I know he loves me, as I take great delight in Teasing and "Edging" his beautifully engorged masculinity - again and again - using it’s tears as lube - As My gentle loving hands (gripping lightly) glide up and down - feeling each ridge, each fascinating swollen vein - listening to his plea’s and begging, his gasps and moans - feeling the furnace of testosterone burning within him - His cute air humping hips, smelling his musky addicting scent after holding his balls in my hand and feeling them dance until I believe he can’t take any more... Then when my feminine intuition tells me he's about to Cum (AND BRAIN DEAD) I suddenly and abruptly stop, without Allowing him An Orgasm... I simply wait, gently nurturing and caressing him, stroking his sexy six pack abs, his precious hairy male chest where his heart is pounding, his inner thighs - causing his balls to dance again - then when he’s calm I eventually slip his weakening deflating masculinity (with the help of ice) back in its chastity cage for me - and just me, his wife, his woman, his Queen, his Goddess, his Empress, His Governing Female - to play with again … whenever I want to …

Yes I know he Loves Me - He Proves it Daily...

My Favorite Sexual Things:

securely tying my drowsy naked man up to to our 4 post bed, before he fully awakens - in the morning - (Before he can go pee I might add)

gently, slowly and carefully teasing and playing with - his helpless – precious - intensifying - “Morning Wood”

listening to his ever increasing passion..., desperation..., frustration..., begging and breathing... As I take him, so easily right to the edge...

mounting his face periodically, and orgasming loudly (specifically) for him to hear and enjoy my feminine bliss - He Loves Pleasing Me...

“lazily” nursing on his perpetually crying 9” cock of curved perfection, after he's orally pleasured me..., beautifully "stoking" his precious Libido

mounting his eager face once again after I've Deftly taken him right to the edge once again, and quickly flooding his avid mouth in My Euphoric Bliss

recovering from my divine climax, while laying on top of him, his desperate throbbing (vein filled) Joystick – Fully Incarcerated - Balls Deep within my covetous drenched (hyper sensitive) feminine loins …

slowly and cautiously I occasionally grind on his Pulsing "Captive" Erection, Making Sure He - {Remains} - Perfectly “Edged”

eventually I'll find myself unintentionally climaxing again on his Virile Throbbing (Glorious) Incarcerated Manhood..., While He'll be perfectly acclimated to my tight wet "imprisonment" - which will ensure he doesn’t Accidentally Explode or Erupt - Deep Inside of me ...

eventually I'll withdraw my supersized (subjugated) STUD from the depths of my euphoric loins, and lick his desperate 9” Cock of Perfection CLEAN – Marveling at his Splendid Virility... And Amenable Subjugation...

Then, once he's Clean - I'll lay my head back down on his belly and again “Lazily” Nurse ON and Tease his sweet, "Crying" - eternally oozing - 9” Manhood of Throbbing Pulsating Power...

eventually, I might just tip him over the edge (after an hour or two, or a week of sadistic brewing) if I'm in a particular frisky rapacious mood...

The longer he goes without erupting, the more intense it is when he does. I adore watching or FEELING him Erupt SO HARD and SO MUCH – I’m always mesmerized, as stream after stream (of his pressurized cum) spurt endlessly into the depths of my savoring mouth or ravenous vagina...

I suck and squeeze and swallow every last scrumptious drop from him.

Not stopping - I usually speed up the pace… spellbound and infatuated, and as he squeals and thrashes about in UTTER BLISS & ECSTASY ...

listening to his ever increasing desperation, frustration, and begging to STOP… Please…. Understand “He’s Completely Helpless”

admiring the sweaty, trembling, exhausted, mess of a man convulsing underneath me (with a Glorious Super Sized Cock That Just Won't Quit), entirely reliant upon my mercy - I eventually take mercy on my cherished subjugated Love - and stop fucking, sucking or stroking him...

I kiss him everywhere for being such a Perfect TOY for ME, reminding him how Magnificent and Precious He Is to me... His Mind is "Desolate" !

Adoring his naked virile body with my carnivorous eyes and watching him blush while he’s still tied up and can’t hide it - IS “Priceless” - His young Traumatized Powerful COCK doesn’t shrink or deflate in the slightest.

Leaving him temporarily {it's like Velcro}, I'll fill the bathtub with warm water and Lavender Bath Beads, It’s Time Now for us to take our relaxing Saturday or Sunday morning bath together, in our over sized - oval tub.

His Relentless Erection is Still Ultra Rock Hard for me..., as I untie him for our Leisurely Morning Bath Ritual AND suck him Clean one last time !!!

He stands in the shower and I finally Allow him to go pee - But he Can't - Not with Such a Hardon - But Then He Does, And What a Sight - Him peeing in the shower (up into the air 40 or 50 inches) Like a statue or fountain with a Raging 9 inch Erection...., Curved and Pointed straight up to the ceiling... WOW...

After thoroughly rinsing the shower walls, we crawl into the warm slippery bath tub together, to cuddle and relax in each others loving embrace...

Then after our warm relaxing bath finally (slowly) deflates him, I Lock his flaccid docile penis, back up in his chastity cage, for the rest of the day...

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icarusatmidnight · 6 years ago

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Oh gosh, asks definitely coming your way for this one! For Olea and Thyme, #s 4, 10, and 19. And for you, #22 and 29. (Let me know if you want more asks and I'll send one for the other two, too!)

:D!!! Thank you so much for these and sorry it took a bit of time for me respond. I kinda went overboard with ninety percent of the questions. ^^;; For anyone curious, the questions are from this ask game too~ It’s cute, so reblog it and have fun!

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

Thyme would die for Oleander’s smile and his tooth gap, oh my god!! I will never be able to stress this enough. Thyme always has had a thing for teeth but he really digs people who have imperfect teeth, like crooked ones and teeth gaps and the like, especially when they smile all bright too. Oleander isn’t honestly much into bright smiles, but he smirks like a goddamn boss and his tooth gap just peeks out and it kills Thyme every time. It’s goddamn beautiful & he will fight everyone who says otherwise! o:

And I wanna say ‘awkward natural charm’ for Oleander because he’s kinda endlessly fascinated by the way Thyme holds himself. But! I’ll go with his eyes for Olea because he dearly loves Thyme’s mismatched eyes too. He has one albino pink eye and the other is this deep dark brown color but unless it’s during one of the Icarus meetings, he tends to cover up as his pink eye. It’s one of the signs of his burn. But Oleander thinks they look so frickin’ cool! *o*!! Even putting colors aside, Thyme is just so expressive and bright and it definitely carries into his eyes effortlessly too, all that love and warmth and joy. You can just see the whole of the universe within them and it’s a crime that he tries to hide them behind contracts and dark sunglasses.

Like Oleander knows that Thyme is uncomfortable showing them at times and he definitely respects that, but he also really wants to burn all the sunglasses that boy owns. >:(! Your eyes and existence are beautiful, Thyme, deal with it!

10. Do they have pet names for each other?

Haha! They should have pet names but not really?? Oleander isn’t much of a nickname person in general and Thyme is so a ‘romantically calls you dude, platonically calls you babe’ kind-of guy. I think if they ever stumbled over a set of names, they’d be ridiculous and semi-ironic.

Sugarpop would be a good one though. o:

19. Describe how they communicate.

TT___TT!! This is my favorite question, ngl, and I might’ve gone overboard answering it.

Okay! At a glance, it probably would seem like they’d be complete shit at communicating at first, just given how much they differ in their styles. Oleander is sarcastic and blunt and a bit callous at times, and he does his absolute best to keep everything on a surface level. He’d much rather be thought of as shallow then to let people see his depth without his permission. Thyme instead is stupidly sincere, absolutely wears his heart on his style and is sympathetic towards people, all people even ones he’s just met. He has …kinda puppy-dog tendencies with how affectionate he’ll be around people too.

Buuuut! they’re actually really open with each other and get along amazingly well. Part of this is because like, while Olea is pretty blunt, he’s definitely not tactless. He knows when to shut up and likewise with Thyme, he knows when not to push and when to tone down a bit. They’re also both giant frickin’ dorks?? Like I also can not stress how much of their time they spend just like, sending each other stupid jokes and even dumber memes. So much time!! Is Spent!! Doing this!! Like Kingcup starts a little group chat for them all after Thyme joins Icarus so they can talk easier outside of meetings ( like ‘hey, I won’t be able to make it tonight’ and junk like that). But Olea and Thyme just ruined it~~ instantly~~ with the memes~~ She refuses to ever open it up again because it’s just nonsense and stupidity and that’s fine when it’s just Olea but not when it’s the two of them. :’l

And when they stop joking around to have a more serious talk, their differences actually help put them both at ease. Oleander doesn’t mind Thyme’s touchy-feely nature but when he’s talking about the past, it doesn’t do him any good to have that extra stimulation. And Thyme totally gets and respects that, so he’ll pull back until Olea is okay again, offering him a shit ton of emotional support in the process. And when it’s Thyme’s time to trudge through the muck, Oleander’s composed nature is kinda life-savior. Thyme has a lot of emotional support if he needs it, but having someone just let him vent?? With absolutely no judgement?? He definitely wants that more than another dose of empathy. Olea also makes an effort to be more physical too, mostly just like holding his hand or laying his head on his shoulder but that little extra presence helps let Thyme he isn’t alone, you know?

Sooooo. That’s kinda them in a rambly nutshell, lots of silly joking about and doing their bests to be there for each other in their own ways when the other needs it. /thumbs up

22. From the outside looking in, what is their dynamic like?

^^^ It them.

Okay! They’re friends. They’re definitely idiots in love. They joke around like loons until shit gets real, then they try to do their best to make the other one happy again. One of my favorite aspects of their dynamic though is how they seem like two halfs in a whole, but aren’t. Oleander is drawn to Thyme’s joyous ray of sunshine aura, but he’s also an extremely guilt-ridden Stepford Smiler with serious anxieties. Thyme has major heart eyes over Oleander’s unflappable rock act but it’s really just an act. He’s really unsure on even what he is, let alone who, and that’s dangerous line of thought of a kid who’s not entirely of the natural world. So, he just… pretends.

It’s really fun writing them learning more about each other and that not much changing their opinions. Oleander still likes Thyme’s need to bring a little extra joy into the world and Thyme loves how absolutely resolute Oleander is. It’s same things just in a new light~

29. What are your favorite moments that happen between them?

All of them!! ;;v;;!! I get really distracted writing them at times because I just wanna write all the scenes with them and let them be happy and sad and desperate and in love. I just really love them both, especially together.

But~ One of my favorite talkable moments in one of the first ones I kinda ever wrote for them, I guess?? Back in the early days when Icarus was just a weirdo book club, Kingcup and this other member of their club were debating over magic theories, as you do, and in the background Thyme and Oleander were just fuckin’ around, chucking stupid candy hearts each other.

They were supposed to be like a little bit of background favor but I just really really loved them in that moment. They were dorky and darling and that’s pretty much when I started shipping them. I really adored the idea of Oleander (who’d been around sullenly for years at that point) having this cute dorky boyfriend he can just screw around and be like an actual …kid with, and Thyme changed from this sarcastic bad boy to my little sunshine hopepunk nerd and I couldn’t be happier with that!

The moment still exists in the story because I basically refuse to give up them being dorks. It’s too endearing to me~

And thank you again for the questions!!

#merigreenleaf #thyme oxeye #icarus at midnight #and thanks again!!! :D #also long post #because it me #oleander wormwood #thymander

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royallypsychotic · 3 years ago

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dapperfvck-arc · 7 years ago

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Warning: I’m putting this under a cut, but I know that’s not a bit of help for mobile users so IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR THE NEW CONSTANTINE ANIMATION OR TO HEAR ME SCREAM INCOHERENTLY ABOUT ALL THE THINGS THAT MADE ME ANGRY, SCROLL FAST AND/OR CLOSE YOUR EYES.

So. Big surprise. I hated every fucking second of it, but here’s the few good points.

-- It’s following a bit more closer to the storyline of ...And all His Engines than it did in the original Constantine series, which did have an episode with loose ties to it. Why on earth they called it City of Demons, I’ve not the fucking foggiest aside from playing on the fact that it’s set in L.A. I think it’s confusing for people who read the comic when it was on Vertigo because there was a fantastic Hellblazer special by the same name. It makes me wonder if they did it on purpose.

-- Chas is English! Yay! And not magic! YAY!

-- There’s gory violence and John smoking and swearing, so at least they didn’t pull their punches too far.

And now the stunningly long list of things that left me enraged (have I mentioned these episodes are only six to seven minutes long? For reasons unknown???? I’m impressed by how much they jammed into it that absolutely drove me up the wall):

-- Now, this is a bit of a nit pick, I realize this, but it’s very important to me because there is literally no fucking reason for it. The show purports that John and Chas met when they were ten years old. This is patently false. They met shortly after John moved to London when he was in his teens. He was renting a room from Chas’s mother, and some pretty intense shit happened. Long story, but the point is they did not meet when they were ten. Pretty sure Chas is a London native. They were not childhood friends. I know it’s so small, but it erases the dynamic of how they met, the event that happened that won over Chas’s loyalty, and there is no fucking reason for it.

-- Along with this, Mucous Membrane was vastly overblown, claimed to have been something John and Chas started together, that the band was playing for years. Once more this is false. In fact, Chas’s history was blended with Gary Lester’s, who was actually the one who was John’s childhood friend and the one who he formed the band with. Again, there is no fucking reason for this. It’s not like they have to worry about casting actors and being on a budget or whatever. It’s a goddamned animation). Chas was shown to be a drummer in the band. Also incorrect. Chas was the band’s roadie and driver. There is no mention of the other members of MM. Also Mucous Membrane was only around for...maaayyybe two years depending on the precise timeline of formation and disbanding.

-- OH BOY! MORE NEWCASTLE RETREADING! Ok, where to start??? So, letsee, apparently Chas was there. McNope. In fact he was not. Now I will give a small amount of credit in that they mentioned Alex Logue and his cult, but the details were heavily altered. Once more, the true scope of Astra’s trauma was erased (which ok, fine. I can understand them not wanting to deal with CSA and Alex using her as an unwilling magical conduit was a fine change and comparably deplorable) and there is no mention of Norfulthing, which I do not understand and honestly makes John look even more recklessly stupid than he did in the comics. So, the animation tells it like this: John and Chas learn that Alex is doing this awful thing to Astra and go to confront him (incorrect. Aside from the fact that Chas was not there, there were actually five other people who went to the Cassanova Club with John and Gary. It was not to confront Alex about his mistreatment of Astra, but because he had stiffed MM for payment of their performance the night before as well as having a few other curious occultists in tow because Logue’s dabbling in the dark arts was a known quantity). In his self-righteous anger, John summons Nergal in order to fight? Scare? Alex and his cultists into stopping being evil fuckers or whatever (Also incorrect. They stumbled onto Astra traumatized and surrounded by dead bodies because she inadvertently summoned a very angry entity called Norfulthing, who had slaughtered Alex and the other cultists brutally and then proceeded to violently attack members of John’s little group. Nergal was summoned to fight Norfulthing, which makes sense in a very literal sort of way). John lost control of Nergal who, after killing Alex and his cult buddies, went on to kill everyone else at the Cassanova Club. For some reason there’s a concert going on which??? Ok fine, show. I’m not even touching that (Helllla incorrect. While Nergal did defeat Norfulthing, he also fucked with John and everyone else there, mostly psychologically, then dragged Astra into hell. John in fact followed them partway into Hell, but Nergal dismembered her after John got ahold of her hand and in fact John came to afterward still holding onto that limb, so good times that). Now aside from the CSA and uh, some of the fucked up shit that Norfulthing did to John’s friends, I don’t understand why this is changed. It’s just so frustrating I could scream.

-- Nightmare Nurse shows up because...JLD? Fuck JLD. Unnecessary and distracting.

-- John’s characterization is still...off. It’s not as infuriating as it was in the TV series but not by much. I don’t know. There’s just that spark missing. A certain magic that makes John charming and fascinating, even if he is also a walking dumpster fire. I guess...I guess it’s hard to write? Idek. I’m once more brought back to the endlessly aggravating question of what is happening with the people who write John theses days? It’s not like the Vertigo series didn’t have people who didn’t get him, but predominately the series had excellent writing and consistent characterization. Pretty much since Nu52, John’s characterization via DC writers has ranged to passable to complete garbage.

-- More overtly showy portrayals of John’s magic. Whatever. Over it. Enough.

So yeah, I hated it and will not be watching anymore. It’s too stressful. I mean, I guess my standards are really high? But like, I love the Constantine movie, and it strongly deviates from canon, but it has the right spirit and I’m sorry. You can hate me. Keanu was wonderful and I loved him as John. So it’s not like I’m sitting here being that asshole like I WILL ONLY ACCEPT PERFECT CANON. I think it just makes me angry that both the TV series and this animation are like “we’re going to give you a proper adaption of this comic you love” and then consistently fucks up details for completely inexplicable reasons. DC owns John. They own Vertigo, so it’s not like they don’t have the rights to the details of his story. It completely baffles me. Judging from the swearing, violenc, and sexual innuendo, it’s not like they’re pulling any punches to sanitize it fully like NBC did so I’m just...completely flummoxed.

One last note: The animation is...fine. Idek. I don’t really like most modern animation. Like, I understand why they do it on computers now. but it just looks so damned souless to me. I mean, there are other cartoons that have been done on computer that don’t look so flat and dead to me. Also I have a personal vendetta against that stupid fucking stubble shit on John’s face. Like seriously, it looks fucking stupid, and honestly? John is clean shaven more often than not in the comics sooo....fuck off with that shit?

#prepare for a hurricane of tags #spoilers for ts #Constantine city of demons spoilers #spoilers #hellblazer spoilers #constantine cw seed spoilers #unpopular opinion for ts #CSA tw #CSA mention for ts #rant for ts #WARNING: I'M SORRY I DIDN'T LIKE IT I'M SORRY I'M INFURIATED #IF I HAVE OFFENDED YOU IN ANY WAY I'M VERY SORRY AND IF WE ARE FRIENDS I STILL LOVE YOU AND IT YOU LIKED IT I DON'T THINK LESS OF YOU #THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT????#(idek if I can sleep any time soon I'm still so keyed up)

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dianamjackson · 4 years ago

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Dance (2020)

“What you can’t have with a man, you’ll experience onstage, ten times as intensely! Ten times? A hundred! Sublimated… As if I were making love with God? That’s right, you can dance everything, understand almost everything through music. Go on, get dressed!” ~ Birmant & Oubrerie, 2019, Isadora. And so went the lines that made me buy this book. It’s a brilliant graphic novel by Julie Birmant and illustrated by Clément Oubrerie about Isadora Duncan, the mother of modern dance. I was led to this book. I wasn’t even going to enter the bookshop but something compelled me. In the music section, which is where I usually go, I was looking for the dance section. I finally found it (it was tiny), and the name ‘Isadora’ in red letters on the spine so compelled me that I couldn’t stop staring at it. My other favourite line is when she’s in a cafe nursing a beer, having just turned down Loie Fuller’s offer to join the latter’s dance troupe: “Whom to share this strange feeling with, of Greek temples without sky or infinity?” Indeed, whom to share my view of life with. Story of my life. I called my website a lover’s dance because I consider all my activities dancing and I’m a lover. I love a lot of things, including love itself. I’ve always been that way; a floaty-headed romantic. I only ever draw pictures when I’m in love with my subject, I only ever record music when I felt compelled, and I only ever write when I have something to say. I have never been a Puritan when it comes to my arts. This “inspiration finds you at work” thing — please. In the past fifteen years I’ve recalled exactly two instances of boredom, each lasting about five minutes. I am always inspired and so there is always something to do. (Actually, Michael said something fascinating about “writer’s block” that I never forgot. He said that merely uttering the phrase creates writer’s block, because you ‘speak things into existence.’ He is absolutely right. I’d heard of this phenomenon but, as I’m always inspired, had never experienced it myself. Furthermore, I knew that acknowledging the concept would create it. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. In art and design classes people talked about “fear of the blank page.” I had no idea what they were on about; to me a blank page was the most exciting thing ever. I guess these are the “ordinary people” Michael laments. One downside of being perpetually inspired and creatively active is that many people can’t relate to you. But more on that later.) I’d always loved the idea of dancing but was far too self conscious to ever do it in front of anyone. I was even too embarrassed to dance alone. But my love and fascination grew until it became stronger than the fear, and I started dancing. Now, I can’t help it. Before I encountered Michael (September of 2018) I was planning on going to clubs just to dance. But the problem with clubs is that people often go there to pick up, there’s not enough room and sometimes the music is bad or too loud or the sound is poorly balanced. There are so many problems with clubs. A fascinating thing about dancers, the really good ones, is that they do everything in a dancerly way. The way you do anything is the way you do everything, said Tom Waits. For me, all movement is an opportunity for dancing — whether walking to a door, typing on a keyboard, playing guitar or just sitting in a chair. When Miles Davis was going to clubs with Clark Terry to check out the musicians, he said that they could tell whether a guy could play by the way he was standing. I’m fascinated by the act of moving. I love creating graceful movements with my body — movements that look as beautiful as pictures. Dancing is a freer, more dynamic and more exciting way for me to draw. As I say in my Gold Dance commentary video, each frame is a painting — that’s thousands of paintings in a single short film! Far more than I could ever hope to produce as paintings in my lifetime. Not that quantity is so important; it’s just that there are so many poses I’d want to paint. With dancing, I can do them all, and quickly. There’s a kind of ‘move lightly’ principle at work in me — an economy of movement and contact. Some people are really profligate in the way they move; I can accomplish the same task in far fewer movements and with less contact. Michael has this economy too, I’ve noticed. Strangely enough, our tentativeness of contact is combined with a strong sensory desire for and enjoyment of contact. The tentativeness comes from being highly sensitive: watch any highly sensitive child among non-sensitive children and they will be the last to try or approach anything. This is obvious in footage of Michael playing in the snow with his brothers, aged about 6. His brothers are furiously playing in the snow and M is way off to the side, observing and not getting involved. The sensory sensitivity is evidenced by the way we touch things: watch the way Michael touches anything. When he strokes kids’ heads, he uses his whole hand, lovingly. This is exactly how I do it too. He’s enjoying the sensation of the kid’s hair and warm head on his whole hand, and it calms them both. We do the same thing with animals. There’s a fascinating video of M aged about 19 combing a little boy’s hair at a party. I love seeing the way he combs the boy’s hair: gently but deftly and swiftly, just like his dancing. There are no girls at the party; all the other boys are showing off or cracking jokes and M is in the back holding the little boy on his hip like a mother, not really participating in the revelry, just focusing on the kid. Idiots will infer sexual indecency, but it’s not. It’s because we’re highly sensitive, sensory types, and M is a very feminine and therefore maternal person. When we’re sitting down I’ve noticed we minimise the degree to which our bodies are in contact with other things. A characteristic pose will be one leg resting horizontally on the other knee (to stretch it out), but the contact between the ankle and the knee will be minimal; the whole pose is balanced and looks elegant. It’s like we’re always posing, always seeking a balanced stance; like our entire existence is an aesthetic project (it is). Along with economy is grace — whenever we move, we’re dancing. Everything is an opportunity for dancing — whether we’re actually dancing, or just picking up a cup. It does betray a real joy in being alive, in being in a body. What a beautiful privilege to live like this, when all movement is exciting.

I touched on the “leg thing” in my piece My Guy (2020) in Dance notes (www.aloversdance.com). I first noticed M doing this in a picture sitting at a table reading a book. His left leg is completely stretched out resting on a chair, while his right is bent normally. I’d done this for years without ever thinking about it or asking why I do it. I’m doing it right now, as I write this. Upon reflection, I think it might be related to the discharge of energy. We both have a lot of tension in our bodies — he probably has more — and stretching the body out in space is a way to dissipate this energy. Dr Christiane Northrup says that the body has a crystalline grid that discharges energy when we stretch. No wonder stretching feels so good. When I was little I was obsessed with cats (and still kinda am). I watched their movements very closely, obsessively studied pictures of them in cat books and drew them endlessly. I emulated their movements — the way they climbed, hunted, batted with their paws, licked milk from a bowl and walked on their tip toes. I scared people all the time because I’d walk up behind them without making a sound. I loved wearing socks, and still do. In my music film Moles (2020) I am dancing in sparkly socks on a table top. I loved climbing trees as a kid; M says this is one of his favourite things to do. If I were an animal, I’d be a cat. Maybe a lioness or a black panther. Michael would be a deer, I think. He really likes deers, and looks like one with his thin frame, thick neck and gigantic eyes. A cross between a deer, a cat and a praying mantis. He does have a weird reptilian thing with his pet boa constrictor and enjoyed scaring girls (and Quincy Jones!) with his pet snakes. I’ve never liked snakes; I think they’re gross. I’ve had many nightmares containing snakes. So that’s one thing we don’t have in common. So we both have a lot of bodily tension, which is largely responsible for our body rhythm, as I call it — the characteristic rhythm with which we do everything we do from singing to talking to writing to dancing. I’m fascinated by the way tension builds up. This became abundantly clear one day on the tram unable to stretch my leg out because there wasn’t enough room. It built up so much that I actually got angry. Certain activities build tension, and others dissipate it. Concentrating on a difficult problem using beta brain waves builds tension, while meditation using alpha brain waves eases it. Certain types of music create tension, other types ease it. Movement of any kind also eases tension. The Buddhists say that all movement is dukkha or suffering. But where would this suffering have originated? In the case of highly sensitive people growing up in largely non-sensitive households, their subjective experience of growing up in that household is considerably more traumatic than for the non-sensitives. For me, growing up in my house was like a daily war zone. No doubt Michael felt the same growing up in his house. All that trauma is registered by our cells, determines our gene expression and ingrains certain pathways that we carry into adulthood. We then have to live in ways that alleviate all this accrued suffering. It seems to me that we’re always in fight-or-flight mode because of that early conditioning; we’ve a constant vigilance. This is stressful for the body, so we find ways to calm ourselves through fiddling, dancing, avoiding stimulation and taking depressant drugs. I’m quite sure that Michael would not dance the way he did if it weren’t for his childhood experiences of trauma. Dancing is self-expression, and a person dances the way they do because of who they are and the experiences they’ve had. And, much of it depends on the music, I find. (As for dancing without music, as M did in BoW, I’m not sure what to make of that as yet.) I think of high sensitivity as having a ‘more porous’ body than non-sensitive people, so things ‘infect’ the sensitive person more strongly. Intense, hard music makes us dance hard and intense; soft, beautiful music creates soft and beautiful movements. I came across a great article by Lubov Fadeeva, a flamenco dancer. He describes Michael’s dancing accurately and intriguingly, and emphasises the importance of individuality in artistic creativity: “He dances in the flow of free creation. It should be noted that even the moves he performs on stage over and over again are not mechanically repeated like a stuck record. No, he can continue any of his dances by free improvisation at any moment. And it never looks out of sync with his personal style; instead, it opens new facets of his fathomless inner creator. This is what no impersonator can do. Only the creator of the dance can update and renew his dance naturally and improvise freely, and still be himself. No one else can plunge into his sacrament. This is his personal domain, just like every person has his or her own body and his or her own place on Earth.” How marvellous. “When Michael Jackson hit the stage, he danced in ecstasy. And it’s obvious to the spectator. All the best dancers and musicians enter a peculiar state of mind when they create. Art in its highest form is impossible without the ability to work with the subconscious, and without using altered states of awareness and intuition. Without this, it’s not art but simply cheap craft.” TBC Read more of my work at www.aloversdance.com

#essay #dance #dancing #spiritual #michaeljackson #isadoraduncan #dianaszabo #art #artist #music #love #spirituality #rhythm

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

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my life story in fragments part 22

Things started going down hill for me over the course of my 8th grade year – more than the normal down hill slide which seems to have been most of my life up to that point. Jodi moved into our house. This wasn't in itself bad for me really. My father could now be so stressed at someone else that he didn't need to take it out on me behind closed doors anymore. Meaning I could probably get away with skipping classes more often since he was too busy banging his head against a brick wall. It was strange to me and I never got used to it, but despite all the fighting between her and my father they decided to get married to patch it all up like a band aid. They planned on getting married that summer.

The fact that for years my father preached about the folly of 'shacking up', he was perfectly willing to live that life himself. This really bothered me. For whatever reason, very early in life, I got really hung up by contradiction. I know now that nobody is perfect and most of our brain functions we aren't even fully in control of. So it's not an issue for me anymore, though I do take notice just the same. But back then, I really thought people should do what they say and say what they do. I didn't ever really care if people shacked up since Christian principles have never meant all that much to me, but I was silently shocked and felt demeaned that he had lied to me all those years. I had taken him for having more gumption and integrity than that considering how adamant he had been, and it really felt like an affront to what I knew about him. It was very hard for me not to show outright shock and disgust when everyday, he did the things that he had criticized others for endlessly.

Jodi had lost her rental home because of some kind of thing where someone was looking to buy it. And given that she was not set up to get another place, and given that they had decided to get married, I suppose it made sense in a distant way if you ignored the fact that both of them were miserable and Jodi had already cheated on my father a few times. I think he might have felt more comfortable in a sense with Jodi living in the house with us because that we he could watch over her and make sure she wasn't doing drugs or seeing other men – as if women are like animals you have to watch. Which of course was already a sign that this would never work out to begin with.

She never really spoke to me. I was told that in an off way, she didn't like me and wanted to find a way to get me kicked out so I lived with my mom. She seemed to think I was gross. But she never made me feel that way to my face, and since it never really came up. I can't think of a negative altercation I ever had with her at all actually. And to this day, I wonder if my dad made half that up in his head. I think honestly it was largely blown out of proportion by him and the part of him that doesn't understand women and has a low self esteem. It was mentioned several times that either my dad or Jodi wanted to get rid of me, but I think it was more like, Jodi didn't really like me around that much but didn't mind me either. My dad was embarrassed because he knew I was weird, and in his mind he thought Jodi had a problem with that. Which gave him this duel sense that he needed to protect her from me, and protect me from her. All of it completely unnecessary.

So, at some point, in 8th grade, my periods became horrible and unmanageable. I was like a dying animal that had gotten hit by a bullet. And it effected my entire life. I was losing so much blood that I felt dizzy half the time. I couldn't sit through one class without having to rush to the bathrooms between classes. I was always living in this immobilized fear that my pants would bleed through and someone would see it. And this wasn't a foundless fear. This happened all the time, and it made me have to sit in chairs differently, to turn my back and side-walk though the halls between classes. And I didn't have any pads or tampons or anything like that, so I had to work with toilet paper.

My dad didn't really know how to help me with that, and he got really embarrassed and avoidant if I had ever done so much as ask if I could get pads. He might have gotten me that stuff a few times, but he was really embarrassed to stand in the grocery store line with them – as if anyone would seriously believe they were for him – and even if they were who the fuck cares? He had said so many negative things about women and their periods throughout my entire life that I had internalized all this guilt and self hatred onto myself, that asking for pads was like coming out in some tiny way with someone you already know isn't accepting of it. He didn't seem to realize that him being so hard on women like that would affect me as his daughter. I don't believe he intentionally orchestrated that unhealthy dynamic. I think he just thought that somehow it wouldn't affect me at all. So I really had no choice but to use toilet paper – I could have demanded more, but I knew if he knew I was on my period, he would psyche out on me intentionally, and then use the 'psychotic PMS woman' argument to support his abusiveness. And using toilet paper sucked. I became good at it, but it was hell. I wish this upon absolutely no one.

And I had no mother figure to teach me anything whatsoever, so there was this point in time that previous summer where, I didn't want my dad to see I was on my period by looking into the garbage, and having just been told by one of my friends that you can't be flushing that down else you clog the pipes, so I stuffed a few pads under the floorboards of a vacant room upstairs. In our big old house there was a lot of unfinished projects that my mother had just left after starting seven years previous, and my father had never gotten around to finishing them either. So there were places where there were holes in the flooring and such.

Time had gone by, and when Jodi was moving in, my dad was fixing up the upstairs kitchen with Jodi, and they found my year old used pads – which I acknowledge is pretty gross but I can't help but think that they might have some significance to anthropologists in 800 years had they never been discovered. I remember I came home from school clueless. My dad yelled me name as soon as I entered the house with fury, and I remember feeling terrified. I tiptoed up the steps and he yelled at me, telling me how disgusting I was for having done what I had done – as though I had intentionally wanted Jodi to be scarred by my filth, or I was fascinated with the filthiness of it all. He kept screaming WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?! and if I tried to answer, he would quickly interrupt me with SHUT UP!. He took on of the pads and shoved it in my face. He said I owed an apology to Jodi and pretty much made it clear that I had terrorized her with my leavings. As for what she actually thought, I will never know.

From there, further talk was had that the family would be better off without me. Of course, this couldn't happen because I was relied on too heavily for babysitting. I was somehow simultaneously the victim and the master of destruction, but I could see my father trying to do the math. I do believe that had he not needed me for babysitting, he would have kicked me out of the house in a heartbeat. I had become a young woman now and in his simplicity, I believe he felt betrayed by me for that. I was chubby, a poor student, overly sensitive, weird, and my face at this point was so covered with acne that it hurt to smile. I was no longer all that cute to anyone. He wanted a good conservative all American family unit and there is no having one of those when you have one of me around the house. Allison and David were young and so they were in. I was not.

Of course, had kicking me out ever come to pass, he would have cried and wanted me to come back, after he had chased me away on account of the perceived notion that I was somehow responsible for the downfall of his relationship and the family values of the household. Somehow the morality of the family was being brought down by me – and I have never figured out how that was. In his mind, he pinned me against his relationship with Jodi, so that if it was failing, he could always use me as his go-to live in counselor who had been right all along, and if him and Jodi were doing well, but he knew things weren't going to last, he could take out all his confusion and desperation out on me in an abusive way. As if I were the one that made all this happen. In all honesty, had someone asked me, I might have told them even then that perhaps having me as a baby was not a wise choice.

My life was really going downhill in my mental wellness and personal life too. I was babysitting all the time. My friends went places, and I could never go. I had to cook dinner and stay home. At school, I was helpless, as I watched Kyle and Kayla getting more and more chummy by the day, and the whole school was abuzz with what a couple they were and when one of them was finally going to admit that they were in love with the other.

I know now that I wasn't really in love, but try telling me then and I would have thought that I had hit the ceiling of the most you could be in love. I was so empty inside and crushed that every breath I took hurt. I cried during class by putting my head down carefully. I was bleeding so much that I was dizzy, and I often times cried myself to sleep at four in the morning, only to have to get up in three hours and do it all again. My dad moved me to the downstairs room, to make room for Jodi and Jessie, and it was COLD down there. It got down to 40 degrees in that room, and I could see my breath during the winter nights. I would just cry in that cold room, and my nose and throat would hurt, and I was always catching colds since the school was crammed and unsanitary and my sad state lowered my immune system. I was never done recovering from one cold when another would hit. And since the staircase was right next to room, I could hear eerie foot steps walking up and down all night, whether it was my imagination, or a super confused dead person I shall never know, and the experience was real to me then. I could feel the presence right behind the door, feeling me just as I felt it, through the walls.

My acne was bad enough to where any responsible adult would have taken me to the doctors. I had this coyote mix dog on top of everything else that I had to struggle to train that was nearly impossible since she was a wild animal. She would run away at least once a week and chasing her down would take hours. She was the biggest trickster of an animal I have ever seen. She embodied what is symbolic in all of our minds of what a trickster is. You could see it in her gleeful rebellious eyes as she skirted between cars that slammed on their breaks. I remember one day running after her, and a semi was at her back. She had this big doggy smile of fearless glee on her face, and she didn't seem to even remotely understand how close she was to dying. From my limited understanding of how you make small things bend to your will, I was a horrible dog trainer. I would just yell and hit her. I didn't beat her really. But it had never occurred to me that I was doing damage. I was damaged, and therefore I was damaging my dog. Animals have psyches that you have to look after just like people, and I didn't know that at the time.

AndI was never able to think ahead for school because I seemed to crumble to pieces after school, and in the best case scenario, I would stretch the chorded phone into my room and talk to my friends. I was always on the phone if I had the opportunity which seems weird to me now. I often times put off everything I needed to do, like homework or washing my clothes in a timely manner, so I would end up having to wash my clothes by hand before school, and my clothes were soaking when I got to whatever hour of class I chose to go to school at. People wondered why I came to school, even in the winter with soaking wet, sometimes frozen sleeved clothing. And then Pepsi's hair was all over me too. I was such a mess.

Gym was hell. We had to undress in front of one another, and that was nearly impossible for me to do emotionally. I learned how to dress FAST and turn my brain off. Like, Sarah one time watched me switch shirts, and I had this whole thing down to under fifteen seconds. It was so hard for me to undress in front of people. And then I had to worry about blood stains showing on my underwear. There was no winning for me in those times. Once, one of my homemade pads fell onto the gym floor while everyone played basketball around me, a game that nobody ever explained to me on how to play, so I humiliated myself by just standing there wondering who's team I was even on. After awhile, I would either just sit out every gym class, or else I would not show up till after lunch.

My attendance was horrible, and only getting worse. By winter, I had been abscent about 50% of the time. My grades were of the 20% F variety, the kind you cannot make up at all. Teachers didn't care for me – though most of them weren't too hard on me. In the mean time, I had become a school legend of sorts. My shenanigans had gotten the attention of the whole school, which grew to be the whole town. People screamed at me when they drove past me every single day. If I took a walk a mile down the road, I would get a holler from three cars at least. Full grown adults began screaming names at me. It had become more than just something that affected my class in the high school, it really evolved into mass hysteria almost for an entire community. I didn't encourage it anymore after a point. Kyle was too busy with Kayla to bother with me most days, and when he did it would only be when nobody else was around. I had somehow become just this really big deal.

Strangely, many of the school-wide jokes or fads, or one liners or games that got popular with the students actually started from me. I would say or do something, and then a month later it was something girls three grades above me would be doing. Most people didn't even seem aware that I had started it. Once someone asked me a question, and I said 'Ancient Chinese Secret' as a way to not tell them directly. And this became a school wide phrase used by kids I never really talked to or met. So I served some function to these people – whatever that was. People imitated me, but it was so far removed from me by the time all the popular kids were saying/doing it that it was really annoying.

The fervor to pick on me to see how I would react, actually caused three classes to sign a document declaring they were going to make my life hell. Like, dozens of kids signed this and the school fit maybe 120 kids in total. Even adults signed it. People would begin to throw rocks at my house. Or at me by the end of 8th. What was once silly and flirtatious meant to get a laugh out of others, took on this almost violent mindlessness.

Despite never doing my homework, I would pack all six large textbooks into my bag, and take it home every night anyway. The heaviness of all those books actually screwed up my back pretty bad and my back was starting to really hurt. Also, no backpack held together. So oftentimes, I had to pack them by hand, stacked up to my chin. Why I bothered to take this home I have no idea. I probably never did homework once and certainly didn't want to look at it after packing it like that.

My friends liked me, but they saw me as weak. They were more interested in trying to outdo one another and I felt like I was there to make everyone feel safe. So I was liked by all because everyone knew that at least they weren't me. I didn't really mind being at the bottom of the food chain so long as they were nice. And they actually were nice to me I suppose. I didn't really want to be alpha, so it didn't matter to me personally. Friends always called me to complain about one another. I would sympathize with all of them, not quite able to figure out why everyone was so mad all the time.

There was no way I could even function in society and I knew it. The principal let me know. I was a defective human. Somehow, I had diverged. Whatever lay in store for me, was going to be much different than the others in my school. I remember one of the only things I grew to enjoy was my walks to school after three or so classes had passed. I had just not gone, and I could walk in the later morning and be alone with myself and at peace. I would walk past the trees and bushes, watch water in the creek flow, watch birds fly, the occasional semi truck would pass, and that was seriously the only time that a sense of peace would dawn on me, and I would feel like there was some fundamental part of me that belonged.

Nothing about me going to school to get robbed of my dignity everyday was natural. But here, out in the nature of it all, the birds had their place, the trees and so did I. Not that I am keen to living in the elements. But there is something about nature that puts your own life into perspective. There was no right or wrong. There was only this strange 'beingness' to everything. And I tried to mentally connect to that. But then the school would get closer and I would be filled with anxiety again, as well as some lunatic thrill that I would be seeing Kyle and he might say a word or two to me.

I was thinking about suicide a lot. Kyle was my only reason to not commit suicide at this point I had decided, which I am well aware seems really flawed and crazy. Like, he was wrong to string me along, but he never made any promises to me either and didn't deserve to have my life unknowingly strapped onto his back. I am sure he meant me no harm. And honestly, I never would have killed myself. I had no idea how I would go about it. People don't say this often, but actually going through with suicide takes guts. It's not easy to swallow your last pills, drink poison, cut yourself that deep, pull a trigger, or jump off a tall height. Somehow, this feeling had to end in death, however. So I just felt like I would die of a broken heart eventually. A death like that seemed to make the most sense for me. It didn't make any sense to me that people expected me to be patriotic to my school and country, be a lovely glowing daughter, a member of society with high grades, and have a healthy appreciation for sports. I was falling apart and adults always had these mindless eyes as they critiqued my existence. I didn't know what to say.

In order to cope with my depression, I became even more obsessed with Kyle, and I began to focus on 'the great beyond' to help me keep up the hope that he would eventually turn around and realize that I loved him. I became obsessed with horoscopes. I would get up early in the morning and turn on the pop radio station that gave out horoscopes at six in the morning, just to hear my useless fortune and the fortunes of my friends and our crushes, but mostly for me. When the report said that romance was coming my way, I was suspended in a reality where I actually believed that. I was always going through extreme bouts of pessimism and optimism. I started carrying around Horoscope books everywhere I went. I would buy silly little pamphlets from the counters of stores. I began letting this stuff dictate what I did each day, what I ate, how I dressed. If the day did not go as it was supposed to, I became frustrated, thinking I must have done something wrong. I figured that if I worked with the stars and constellations that I might be rewarded for it. It became a strange form of religion for me for a time.

Here are all the others i have written thus far

PART 21 - http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

#text

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sevlies-blog · 7 years ago

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hey babes !! i'm kat and i forgot.. that today was thursday, hence my acct being so late, work's rly playing mind games with me kjdlsfj. anyways, i'd make this super long and unnecessary like i normally do but im at work atm so i'm gonna make this quick. if you wanna plot, im me and feel free to ask for my discord, i prefer that over tumblr tbh ! so here's my rly.. weird bio for yeseul, hopefully you don't cringe like i still do but no promises lmao

{ aphrodite – park chaeyoung } did you see NAM YESEUL walk into the sorority house ? i heard the TWENTY-TWO year old SENIOR is known to be EBULLIENT & METICULOUS. but in the hallways, SHE is infamous for their TEMERARIOUS & DECADENT behaviour. one thing is sure, the SOCIOLOGY major is perfect for pennbrooke.

yeseul was born to her securities analyst father and secretary mother on the twenty-fourth of july, 1995. the youngest of two with an older brother two years her senior, she would live a fairly normal childhood in their three bedroom apartment in a high-rise uptown — taking on an admiration for the colour blue and puppies with luscious white fur long before plants, butter cream frosting and egyptian cotton sheets were to stand alongside them.

a maternal aunt had been the kids’ guardian while their parents worked during the day and early evening, suppers and bedtimes perhaps the most time they’d spend together on a given day, though that did not take away from seulie’s idolization of her eomma and appa. because efforts were always made to connect with their children, the occasional weekend outing an apology for their late hours and almost constant exhaustion.

she began her years of education in a uniform with a black sweater and skirt and a periwinkle button-up, a ribbon tying her bangs back subsequently matching the latter. eager to learn and meet new people, her first day of school was invigorating for her five year old self, which would remain constant as the years went by.

her parents had a happy marriage, which continues now, and are the source of seulie’s dreams for a relationship in the future. in fact, it was due to their strong relationship that upon her husband being offered a higher position in the korean-based company he worked for at their branch in san francisco’s financial district, her mother was the first to suggest moving - completely ecstatic in the matter - which led to the nams leaving ulsan for america when she was thirteen years old.

luckily, her parents enrolled both her and her brother in a school with a program for international students with little knowledge of english. while they understood the language quite well all things considered — perhaps from watching popular american shows while growing up — yeseul and taeil spoke it minimally.

thus the younger would end up spending an extra year in the program at her own accord, wishing to become more knowledgeable before being thrown into high school, entering at fifteen years old as opposed to fourteen.

she found the institution to be more complex than she would have preferred; while courses such as biology and pre-calculus were not troubling, she faltered in english and american history, albeit due to circumstance. so she was quiet and focused, it felt as though it was all that she really could be in this situation and it soon became her high school persona.

her brother often played protector when she was a child, from the rude upperclassman who shoved her off of their swing to the boy next door who laughed at her sobs upon falling off of her bike and skinning her knee on the sidewalk. she never asked that of him, he never made a vow to do so; it was merely an unspoken dynamic that remained even when her first girlfriend broke her heart by stringing her and her best friend along in junior year, remembering vividly taeil’s venomous words being spewed in the hallway of an acquaintance’s house party.

a girl as plush as the throw pillows on her double sized mattress, a slight evolution took charge as she transitioned into adulthood. with her kindness not being thwarted, she felt as though the dissolution of her naiveté, of her careful approach to much of the world around her, was necessary. these things do not happen overnight, as she had come to realize while standing in the middle of a friend’s older brother’s house party. any boldness that she had while standing on the doorstep dissipated at the sight of college kids all but forced to press against one another in the living room that reeked of pot, unintentionally listening to barely audible moans beneath the loud music that came from an unguarded upstairs bedroom. thus, after a couple of months of pushing her own boundaries — frequenting keggers with friends and the like — even seulie noticed that she had eased into a more outgoing and adventurous persona. she allowed most of her inhibitions to crumble and her confidence to grow, seemingly proud of the shift and rightfully so.

commencing her four year attendance at pennbrooke — far from the familiar alleyways of san francisco — she was determined to be one of the few who sail through university without the burden of uncertainty weighing them down. from a young age, she had an interest in both the humanities and science, a curious child endlessly fascinated by fiction and fact, the reasons for human behaviour and for life itself. thus this led to her proficiency in such subjects, in combination with being a high achiever it resulted in obtaining excellent grades in those courses.

this would edge her in the direction of longing to understand society and those suffering within it. uncovering varying family and sexual dynamics in, as well as values specific to, all cultures intrigued her, so much so that she often found herself reading journals about such topics when her homework for the next morning had since been completed.

she eventually came to the conclusion that garnering a knowledge in the differences of individuals and society’s effect on and reaction to them was something she wished to endure, especially if it helped people like her; perhaps she wasn’t an immigrant in the way that many others were, with her father having moved to america — and the family following — for an already acquired position in his company, however she still reaped the benefits of some narrow-minded individuals mocking her slight accent or much worse. her identity was split in two to accommodate her past in ulsan and her present and future in san francisco, and yet she felt a disconnect on both ends — knowing she’d be rejected by some of her beloved elders in her hometown for not following a more traditional and exclusive set of values, while either not being enough of or being too much of a stereotype to fellow classmates. it was for those reasons primarily that she wanted to study sociology, specifically social inequalities, and to hopefully pursue a career in such.

college was what she would consider her sexual liberation, much like other students. where high school was pivotal for first loves and long lasting friendships, post-secondary was a hub for flings and fleeting emotional attachments. of course, this was ideal for a girl who wished to invest in a relationship when it felt right, as though it would not simply be for someone’s thrill of the chase or in conjunction with half-assed efforts in building upon a connection. and with her ability to separate sex from love — unless the latter arose somewhere down the line organically — it didn’t take her long to dive into the realm of meaningless hookups in the winter semester of freshman year and subsequently deal with their aftermath. she had never intended to sink her proverbial claws into the soft skin of her lovers and lead them along, however such would often be the outcome and by the end of her sophomore year, she’d come to accept that — even embrace it. now her reputation is more than confusing to some, the laidback and seemingly kind-hearted girl seducing others only to lead them astray being a little farfetched. maybe it was the new role to assume that lessened the guilt over time, an unexplored dynamic that made her more than comfortable with the slight burden she had to bare to continue her escapades.

currently she embodies a charisma chocked full of sincerity and gentle bluntness, while teasing friends and hookups alike in various ways. she’s able to remain calm and collected in conflict, though she may become defensive if it involves her loved ones or if it’s courtesy of someone who disrespects her or another’s boundaries. in moments of stress, she is actively trying to stay calm if it warrants such a response, in her eyes; for instance, a short deadline for a research paper or the disappearance of her mother’s engagement ring would lead to those attempts.

she considers the temptress within to be an alter ego as opposed to a variation of herself; where she normally attempts to think decisions through, she is impulsive and tactless under these circumstances, prioritizing her own pleasure and desires above all else.

she loves love, hence why she wishes to pursue such a thing after college, when people tend to take it more seriously. it doesn’t hinder her from helping her friends, more than willing to find suitable partners for them, however she’s quick to talk them out of it if it seems like a mistake that will only hurt them in the end.

seulie enjoys compliments, giving and receiving them, however she is often quick to deflect most of the latter. she doesn’t seek praise only to respond in a false humble manner, but simply to know if she’s doing something correctly or if it’s appreciated by others; thus if one compliments her on perhaps her beauty, she tends to insist otherwise — at least initially.

she despises individuals who don’t respect boundaries, and due to fragments of her sex life spilling from the lips of some past lovers, she often attracts such people and has no qualms about putting them in their place. she also dislikes avocados, soap operas and birkenstocks - she simply doesn’t understand their appeal - as well as dismissive, argumentative and/or obnoxious people.

#╳┊: — just to feel it in my fingers. •「 ooc. 」#thegreeksooc

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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A Celebration of Women of Color in Anime

Anime has always meant a lot to me as a person of color. I didn't see much of myself in my surroundings growing up, and even though I'm mixed Filipinx and not Japanese, it felt valuable to me that anime was an Asian-created medium. There were far more limits in terms of exposure and what you could readily learn about underrepresented cultures in the years before the internet became more widely accessible. As a result, early TV and video exposure to anime helped me indirectly feel proud of my own heritage.

I generally relate to media depictions of women more than men, so it should come as no surprise that women of color in anime comprise some of my favorite fictional characters, period. Though woefully misrepresented in all kinds of media, here's a non-hierarchical list of anime WOC who are respectfully depicted, nuanced, and poignant role models for our own lives too. Read on for more!

Nadia — Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water

A series known for its tumultuous production and Hideaki Anno's distinct directorial hand, Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water is an aquatic adventure anime from the early '90s. The main character, Nadia, is a young woman of color searching for the truth about her past — and the secret of her blue-jeweled pendant.

One of Nadia's crowning traits is her connection with animals and the care she displays for them. Nadia communicates easily with King, her lion cub sidekick, and openly detests meat and hunting. The show also makes it clear that Nadia is a *gasp* vegetarian. It was pretty rare in the '90s for any show to feature a positive portrayal of vegetarians, so it's pretty cool to see her depicted as a genuinely caring animal-lover and not some meat-hating caricature.

Nadia is an "imperfect" heroine in the sense that she actually comes across like a real person with real struggles. She is (justifiably) prone to distrust others, can act hot-headed, grapples with intense depression, and doesn't always give people like Jean and Nemo the benefit of the doubt. Nadia's tendencies and behavior make perfect sense given her awful and abusive childhood, and that makes her one of the most interesting anime protagonists out there.

Yoruichi Shihōin — Bleach

In Bleach, Yoruichi's coolness factor is off the charts. She can outrun Byakuya (one of the most powerful captains), knows how to help you achieve Bankai in three days, and can also transform from a black cat into a human at will. If Soul Society had its own version of LinkedIn, Yoruichi's resume would be top tier — it's no small feat to be the former Onmitsukidō commander and former 2nd captain of the Gotei 13.

Finally, much like the rest of the cast of Bleach, Yoruichi possesses a simple yet keen sense of style. Can you think of anyone over a century old who can wear purple and beige striped arm wraps and orange apparel with such finesse? I thought not.

Carole — Carole and Tuesday

Shinichiro Watanabe's new show Carole and Tuesday is yet another music fan's dream. While Kids on the Slope focused on Jazz, Watanabe's new outing hones in on pop singer/songwriters. One central message in the show is simple, yet timeless: Pursue your creative expression by staying true to yourself, and keep your creative fire safe from societal pressures intent on manipulating and/or extinguishing your gift. And with a Black woman — Carole — as one of the lead protagonists, this important message feels even more moving and powerful.

A Black woman as a lead character is the exception rather than the rule in the world of media, which is a disturbing reflection of larger oppressive social structures. That's why it feels refreshing to see a respectful portrayal in the form of Carole. We first meet her as an impoverished teenager in a big city without parents or a support network. Despite the financial and social odds stacked against her, Carole still longs to express herself and create a loving community through the power of music. Her dedication to her own creative integrity is a joy to watch, and as a musician myself, I found legitimate personal solace in her drive to be as artistically genuine as possible.

One of my favorite things about Carole is the ego-free support, sense of awe, and goodwill she displays toward other musicians. There's barely a hint of jealousy or competition between Carole and her main musical partner, Tuesday. The two get along amazingly well despite a few roadblocks, and Carole consistently honors their shared creative spirit. She even voices repeated praise for a rival musician named Angela, despite Angela's antagonistic remarks against the series' duo. As another impressive feat, Carole also manages to revive the joy of seasoned — and occasionally downtrodden — musicians due to her infectious creative passion. How can you not love such an inspirational character?!

Anthy Himemiya — Revolutionary Girl Utena

Revolutionary Girl Utena, is, well, revolutionary for a number of reasons. The show tackles gender essentialism head-on and makes some hefty statements about the toxicity of conventional social norms. Utena is an incredible character who challenges the classic patriarchal notions associated with princedom. I'd argue though, that her partner Anthy Himemiya is the true star of the show. Without going into spoilers, Anthy is key to one of the biggest themes in the show: That for its own selfish gain, society is willing to endlessly enact cruel rigidity and heartlessness against women. It'd be both reductive and missing the larger point though, to interpret Anthy as a defenseless, subservient victim controlled by the harshness of a misogynistic culture. On the contrary, Anthy is perhaps the strongest figure in the entire series. Anthy does (at least in some ways) behave according to the interest of others, but she ultimately asserts her own worth and personal agency in a way that truly embodies the show's beautiful core. There are plenty of fascinating, insightful articles that go into depth about Revolutionary Girl Utena's symbolism and topics, so be sure to check some out. Anthy is a phenomenal character who stands out as one of the most memorable depictions of self-love, showing it's never too late to define your own life according to your needs, desires, and dreams.

Casca — Berserk

Berserk is likely my favorite manga, and undoubtedly my favorite work of dark fantasy. I always pair that praise with a very cautionary recommendation due to the intense gore and many disturbing sexual depictions throughout the series. While it's up to each individual to decide their limits in terms of extreme content, Kentaro Miura (the creator) softens Berserk's more unseemly edges by featuring sympathetic protagonists who organically evolve, and who are driven by immense love and support for one another in spite of a horrifyingly bleak world. That said, I find the central character Casca to be one of the strongest and most nuanced women in all of fiction. It's rare enough for a dark-skinned woman to be depicted at all in most media, and rare still for her to be given proper depth and well-deserved narrative development. Fortunately, Berserk gives us both.

In the Band of the Hawk arc — the first lengthy saga in Berserk, covered by the three recent films and the '90s anime — Casca is introduced as a well-regarded figure within the ranks of her mercenary brigade. Although she's portrayed as a strong fighter and a capable leader, the series deploys many different elements that prevent a one-sided characterization of Casca. For example, her tragic backstory highlights not only her strength and will to survive but also lends added weight to why she's so watchful of her comrades. After Casca is sent away by her own family as a child, she gains a new one in the form of the Band of the Hawk, and — much like a protective older sister — leads many of her men to safety on more than one occasion. The life and attachments Casca forges from the hell of her childhood imbues her character with skillfulness, tenacity, and meaningful emotional capacity.

The love between Casca and Guts is a genuinely moving, reciprocal bond. While it's true that Guts saves Casca from demons on many occasions (which carries more than a hint of the misogynistic damsel-in-distress cliche), it's also true that Guts is saved from his lonely life largely because of Casca's love and presence. Though there's plenty to critique about the notion that masculine dependency is evidence of a healthy relationship, overall I find that Guts and Casca exhibit selfless, mutual gestures of love that challenge standard relational dynamics.

It can't be stressed enough how pivotal Casca is to Berserk's central storyline. Her badass skills as a fighter, coupled with her nuanced backstory and emotional depth, makes her one of my favorite anime characters of all time.

Each anime in this list offers a uniquely touching testament to women of color. While by no means an exhaustive list, I hope you enjoyed it!

Are there other women of color from your favorite anime who aren't listed here? Let us know in the comments!

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