#this scene genuinely and honestly changed the trajectory of my life.

[danielsarmand]

[alchemistc]

Help, I'm so confused. How can it be, that shippers and antis have such a wildly different perception of the 911 daddy issue szene? I don’t watch the show, just saw some gifs of it, but the discours my dash provides from both sides is astonishing. Wtf is happening? (And for context: even if I'm not in the fandom, I have read Buddie and BuckTommy fics and like both ships.)

Honestly I'm incredibly new to this fandom so I can't really do a deep dive, but from experience in fandom dating back to like, the late nineties, I can tell you there is always, always a section of fandom that wraps themselves in fanon and ties their entire identity into making their own preferences canon.

I have zero problems with the idea of b*ddie. I think it definitely has its merits, and through a certain lens it makes sense. It's not what drew me in and so far there hasn't been a particular fic or take that calls to me, but that's a me thing and there's nothing wrong with having preferences.

What it comes down to is a purposeful misunderstanding of the context given - Buck is into sex, Tommy is clearly into sex, they are into each other and they are exploring that with healthy communication ahead of time by having a flirt about it. That's it. That's all that scene was. It showed us that Buck and Tommy meet each other where they're at and enjoy each other's company and wanna fuck nasty.

But as it ALWAYS goes in the minds of shippers/antis who have wrapped their identities in 'this HAS to be canon or there is something intrinsically wrong with the world and I'm going to make it everyone's problem's (which is NOT ALL SHIPPERS, MIND YOU, THESE GUYS ARE JUST THE LOUD ONES) - they aren't making a genuine connection with either the source material or the character arc. I could tell you twenty different ways off the top of my head that that particular scene could make for EXCELLENT b*ddie content but that's absolutely not the way the antis are coming at it - it's a personal insult to them that they didn't get their way so instead of feeding that into beautiful fanon they've made some bonkers banana wild exclamations about moral superiority.

This is not new. This is exactly how the (small but loud) subsect of shippers/antis has always operated. It's failed media literacy and making it personal when the reality is that this is currently the story the writers want to tell. Antis operate in an echo chamber. It's a bad faith argument (I hesitate to use that word because it's more like proselytizing) based on personal preference.

If bucktommy ends up being a flash in the pan, I will still have enjoyed the dynamic it brought. If Bucks storyline continues on a different trajectory that I don't particularly care for, I can either fade from fandom or dig in with canon divergence and be happy with that.

To answer your actual question though, which is how the two ends of the spectrum have such wildly different readings on the Daddy scene: everyone is looking at this through their own lens of experience/understanding, so of course, of course people who ship Buck and Tommy are delighted, and of course (some) b*ddie shippers don't enjoy it.

There's an element of maturity levels to it that I don't really feel like digging too deep into, as well, but lets be real: the infantalizing of Buck is a big part of the 'ick' we're seeing, the kinning/stanning going too far.

It's the taking it personal bit that's causing all the discourse. It'll fade, it always does, until there's another thing to clutch pearls about. It's just noise. It sucks, but at the end of the day this is a fictional TV show about first responders that is for the most part very Unserious™️ and these are all fictional characters that people from different walks of life are seeing themselves in.

And at the end of the day, there are creative outlets that allow you to change whatever the hell you want about canon if you aren't jiving with it - fanon exists for a reason.

I'll just be over here in my corner enjoying two grown ass men being so down bad for each other they're a little stupid about it.

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 2 "Spotchka Under The Stars"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Link to read the Introduction and Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/738467105361494016/vagabonds?source=share

Word count: 3K

Background: Hunter and Mad bond, make love, and break shit. 

Warning: SMUT ALERT! Fingering, oral sex, intercourse, erections, arousal, sexual/sensual feelings, flirting, swearing, alcohol use, mention of deep sorrow/depression/hurt/lost love/relationship breakups/estranged parents/heavy mental baggage/ugly crying. 

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap: Mad grabbed Hunters hand and led him through several dark winding stairways, many doorways, purposeful twists and turns that confused the sense of direction. The last door opened to a rooftop area... 

"Spotchka Under The Stars"

...that didn’t even fit the aesthetic of Cid’s Parlor.  Outdoor rugs sporting plush cushioned lounge seating, soft blankets, big throw pillows, centered around an elevated bonfire pit.  Lit by strings of small lights, adding a dim ambient glow.  Planters full of foliage framed the area, giving it a very natural landscape.  All hidden by walls around the rooftop perimeter so as not to be seen by those looking up at ground level.  A retractable awning was pulled back to reveal a clear night sky and millions of stars above Ord Mantell. 

Mad walked over to the bonfire, hit a switch, and flames sprang to life.  The glow and heat added yet another amazing element to the scene.  Hunter stood transfixed by everything before him.  Mad laughed.  His mouth was hanging open, eyes wide.  Adorable Laser Brain.  It was already worth it, just to see the look on this man’s face. 

“Here, down the hatch since your mouth hanging open.”  Pulling the cork on the Spotchka and handing it to Hunter.  Coming down from his momentary shock, and away from the scene around him to focus on Mad.  The firelight danced off her skin, eyes, hair.  Her smile now carefree with no menace.  Beautiful in her genuine happiness.  Hunter wanted to kiss her right now, just grab her and passionately plant one on that sassy mouth.  But he didn’t want to ruin the bit of trust they had at that moment.  He wanted to know more about this woman.  So, he settled with a goofy smile while swigging from the bottle. 

There was a large, cushioned settee, big enough for two people.  Mad laid down and folded her arms under her head.  The best position to look straight up to the sky and stargaze.  From this position she could also regard Hunter and watch his next move. 

“May I join you?” Hunter asked as he strolled over. 

“I’ll allow it” Mad winked at him and grinned. 

He settled in beside her.  Then his comm lit up.  It was Tech. Something about repairing a neighboring ship and wondering when Hunter was coming back to the Marauder.  Since it wasn’t an emergency, he ignored the message.  Omega would be fine with Wrecker and probably pass out watching holos.  He needed this respite away from everything.  Just for tonight. 

“What is it?” Mad asked eyebrow raised. 

“My brother pestering me.  I’ll answer him later,” while switching off his comm. 

He handed the bottle back to Mad.  She took a sip, then candidly replied, “Tell me about your family.” 

Hunter hadn’t expected that to come up.  Honestly, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from Mad at that moment.  She gave off vibes of guarded flirting.  This probing statement caught him off kilter. 

“They are everything to me.  Pretty much the only thing I have” he replied.  Long silence.  He wasn’t going to give much personal information away now.  Crosshair’s face appeared in his mind, followed by Omega’s as she told Cross he was her brother too.  The disappointed expressions on Tech, Wrecker, and Echo’s face as they turned away from Cross to board the Marauder. We never leave our own behind. Mad noticed a sudden pained micro expression from Hunter. 

Mad handed the bottle back to Hunter.  He took a long-drawn-out sip. 

“To the Nomaadi People family is life...literally.  We may be scattered among the galaxy, but our devotion is deep.  If I call on my family, they will be there.  The shirt off their back, food from their mouths, fight for safety's sake, with them there will always be a home. It’s not a place, it’s the people.  Our creed is: By blood or chance, our family makes.” 

“Sounds beautiful.  You’re lucky to have such a support system to call family.”  Hunter answered briefly.  Unsure how much to share.  This was uncharted emotional territory for him. 

“We used to be a huge extended family.  Not many of us left now.  We are a marked people” she stroked the tattoo emblazoned on her chest lovingly.  “Double edged sword.  Marked as an honor to belong to The Star People.  Tattooed right against our hearts.  We are comprised of blood relations and non-blood's that are adopted in. A tapestry of community.  And yet...marked by powerful Establishments that would eradicate us from existence for just being who we are and owning this symbol.” 

Mads words made him think of all the clones he knew.  A huge extended family of brothers.  Yet expendable lives for the war machine.  Clones were barely given respect among the wider public...less so than droids.  Nobody cared if clones lived or died.  They were cannon fodder, and a useful tool. Most of them now controlled by the inhibitor chip.

As the night progressed and the Spotchka flowed, they both loosened up enough to ease into earnest conversation.  Mad talked about being an “independent contractor” refugee smuggler and more about her Nomaadi culture.   Hunter about his brothers, sister, planets they had visited while working odd jobs for Cid.  He didn’t mention being a clone or having ever belonged to the Republic.  He purposely avoided that, with Mad never questioning.  She probably never suspected it since he didn’t look like a Reg, nor dressed in uniform.  He hated lying by omission and honestly wanted to tell her.  His fear was that she would immediately get up and leave.  He enjoyed her presence...and selfishly...he was lonely. 

Tentatively, parenting entered the chat.  He discussed Omega but omitted her role with the Kaminoans.  Mad discussed Love, but omitted her offspring being force sensitive should this man narc on them for any bounty reward. Both wanting to connect but scared to risk too much for safety's sake.  They talked about how much they cared for their family.  How they worried about their children's safety and for the future of the galaxy in general.   

By this time, it was late, and the moon above Ord Mantell was high.  A slight chill was in the air, so they covered up with blankets.  Mad still shivered from the cold.  Hunter politely offered to snuggle for extra heat and trustingly Mad took him up on it.  He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.  Being that Mad and Hunter were almost identical in height, her head rested against his.  They settled in together and watched the stars quietly for a time.  Eventually, a shooting star sailed across the night sky. 

“Make a wish, Mad”, Hunter said quietly. 

Mad sighed.  The night was not what she expected.  It was better.  This right here with Hunter, was the most she had let down her walls.  The closest she had been to anyone since Love’s father.  Sure, she had some flings hoping they might blossom. But any conversation was brief and impersonal.  Most men were “in and out” quickly.  Some even avoiding her altogether once they realized she was Nomaadi.  Hunter looked past all of this.  He seemed very genuine.  The combination of alcohol and emotion bubbling up at this moment rushed out before she could stop it. 

“I wish...to be loved.  I’m so damned lonely!”  The shock of it coming right out in the open.  And, before she could do anything to stop it, started to cry.  Through her tears she stammered, “I appreciate my kid...but sometimes it isn’t enough”.  

Mad didn’t apologize for her emotional outburst.  She was done with worrying about what others thought of her.  Or if she was what they thought she should be.  The road leading to this moment was such a long, hard one.  If this man wanted to bail because she showed some human vulnerability, she didn’t kriffing need the company.  If Hunter wanted to snuggle with someone baggage-free, there were plenty of escort houses open all night in Ord Mantell.    

The sudden change of character had Hunter sit up on one elbow and regard Mad. Tears streaming down her face, she looked up deeply into Hunter’s eyes.  Mad saw a man contemplating his own emotional baggage.  Hunters' eyes looked moist in the firelight.  No tears, but close.  Tired lines forming on his face.  She unintentionally struck a chord. 

Brushing away Mad’s tears, Hunter felt a deep pang within his own heart.  While he had his brothers and Omega, there was no intimate partner to share his deep feelings with.  Keeping to himself, holding back so much for his family. Losing Crosshair, no longer having a homeworld, scrabbling for basic existence.  Hunter understood Mad’s emotions.  It was so difficult and lonely to be the rock others held onto for strength.  The weight of Mad’s emotions reached out to touch his senses, while flowing together with his own.  A riptide taking its toll on his controlled demeanor, pulling him out to sea. 

His voice husky with emotion, Hunter spoke with difficulty while returning Mad’s deep eye contact, “I don’t know what to say...other than...for tonight...I’m here.”   

With a sudden movement, Mad intensely embraced Hunter, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck.  Her forehead resting against his cheek.  Hunter reacted kindly by wrapping his arms around her body.  The energy that raced through them in Cid’s Parlor returned with more intensity.  It's warm tingle didn’t leave this time.  With the embrace it stayed and made both of their bodies shiver with its power.  Hunter, finally unable to hold back any longer, broke out in tears.  They ran down his face and mingled with Mad’s.  They held onto each other like their very lives depended on it.  Crying, hitching sobs from the heart, noses running onto each other.  Forming a bond of deep emotional sincerity.  

The Kaminoans never prepared Hunter or his brothers for such raw emotional interaction.  Brutal honesty regarding the struggle of existence.  He never had to think of such things.  Raised without this type of contact or context.  Clones were told what to do.  To execute someone else's orders.  Not to consider their own emotional wants and needs.  They were property of the Republic, now pawns for the Empire. 

Mad had built walls since the absence of her last partner.  She refused to be hurt again when he left Love and Mad alone.  She mourned his absence, and the collateral damage to her child.  But she never let go of the hurt and loneliness his absence left on her heart.   

Mad and Hunter clung to each other, nestled together under the moon and stars of Ord Mantell.  Half drunk on Spotchka, breathing in each other, and crying like newborn children.  Finally, when they ran out of tears, they whispered to one another.  Gentle caresses gave way to passionate kisses. They both felt the heat of sexual desire take over. “May I touch you?” Hunter asks demurely.  He’s feeling very ardent but doesn’t want to overstep. 

“Yes”, she snarks with a smirk.  “I’m up for anything...except anal.” 

Hunters' expression is full stop shocked while his penis immediately pokes Mad’s thigh HARD. 

"Feels like HE’S totally on board.” 

Hunter chuckles “Not used to a partner that's so...frank.” 

“I’m not one for holding back” and with that Mad flipped Hunter onto his back and straddled him. 

Hunter ran his hands up Mads thighs and growled.  One hand slid to her inner thigh and brought his fingertips to her center.  Then he started applying firm pressure and making lazy circles, rubbing her clitoris through her pants.  She shuddered.  Mad caught his other hand and brought it up to her face.  He gently stroked her cheek with his open palm as she brought it to her mouth to kiss.  From there she inserted his thumb into her mouth and sucked on it.  Her tongue tickled the base of his thumb while it was in her mouth. 

Mad paused, pulled Hunter’s thumb out of her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip.  An unspoken promise of what she could do to him.  This accentuated by grinding her hips against his swollen crotch.  All done with intense unbroken eye contact. 

“You First, Mesh’la.”  Pulling his hand out of her grasp, Hunter started undoing her pants.  Mad helped him slide them and her underwear off together.  He could smell her full arousal.  Mad then took off her shirt and threw it showily behind her.  Large breasts bare and nipples hard with the chilly air.  Hunter’s erection ached. 

He grabbed Mad’s hips and dragged her to his mouth, burying his face into her crotch.  She inhaled quickly and moaned as he sucked and flicked his tongue over her clit.  He firmly held her hips down onto his face, groaning and growling like a wild creature.  Occasionally he would shake his head side to side under her with wild abandon. 

It didn’t take long for Mad to orgasm.  As the wave of her climax washed over, she arched her back and took in the stars of Ord Mantel right before her eyes rolled back into her head.  She cried out.  Delicious aftershocks jerked her hips.   

Hunter, fully enjoying the show asked, “More?” 

“MORE!”   

Hunter obliged happily.  More licking, sucking, growling.  Bringing her to another orgasm.  Then another.  Her refractory time was indeed short and since she wasn’t saying no, he kept on going.  He was quite enjoying watching Mad lose her composure over and over again.   

Eventually...” Oh, Maker...Hunter...” she was breathless and swooning.  “I can’t anymore!  My legs are weak.” She laughed while panting.  He had tongue fucked her so much, she literally could not move her body off his face. 

Amused, Hunter lifted her off him and set her down.  He helped Mad lay back as she was now a shaking, wet mess.  She lay back catching her breath.  Off went Hunter’s shirt and pants.  The potted plants were covered in their clothing.  Then he pulled the covers and himself onto Mad.  Before he went to nuzzle her, Hunter grabbed another blanket off the chair next to them and wiped his coated face off on it.   

“Classy there, Hunky” Mad teased. 

“Might save this for Cid.  Drape it over her office chair for a surprise.   She’s been such a bitch to me and the rest of the Batch.” 

“Hey!  Keep my bodily fluids out of it.  You really should just wipe your ass on it.  Seems more fitting.” 

They both erupted in laughter.  Then passionately kissed.  Hunter nuzzled Mad’s neck as she wrapped her arms and legs around his body.  He traveled around and down kissing her chest.  On the way, he made sure to give a full loving lippy kiss to her Nomaadi tattoo.  In his mind, he sent intension to whatever Force or Ancestors were out there: From my lips to your ears.  Take care of this woman, her children, and her family.  They deserve to be happy.  SOMEBODY DESERVES TO BE HAPPY! 

Hunter settled on Mad’s breasts, nuzzling between them.  Groaning as he breathed in the scent of her skin...and her perfume.  Something akin to dark blooming flowers and amber.  Sweet, warm, and musky.  It drove him wild.  He reached down, grabbing his swollen member, and stroked it gently.  His cock was leaking and wet.   

Mad ran her fingers through Hunters dark curly locks as he licked her nipples.  Then he nibbled them.  He let go of himself and cupped one breast while lovingly caressing her curves with the other.  He was slowly...methodically making his way to the inside of Mad’s thighs.   

Hunter looked up at Mad and exclaimed with heated desire, “Oh ner kar'taylir darasuum, oh ner kar'ta! (Mando’a: “My love, my heart.”) 

Mad answered breathlessly back in Nomaadi: “My heart, my love.”

Mad snatched off Hunter’s bandana and tossed it with the rest of their clothing.  His curls spilled out.  She grabbed handfuls of them.  They were so soft.  The feeling of his hair, his touches, kisses, his scent, the Spotchka, night air, fire, stars, her lust, all blended in total sensory euphoria. 

Hunter stroked Mad’s Mound of Venus and she pulled him back up for a long, deep, soul kiss.   

Then she pulled away and leered at him “I want to taste you.” 

Hunter smiled and obliged. He laid back and relaxed on the settee. Mad leaned over Hunter and rested her ample breasts on his lap, framing his stiffened cock. She then gently teased the head with her tongue. Small wet circles, flicking her tongue on his frenulum, that intensely passionate gaze up at him while he gazed down at her. He was starting to lose his composure. Not wanting to cum too soon, he looked up above at the stars. 

Everything right now was amazing to Hunter: The stars, this woman, the heat of their lovemaking. It had been so long since he felt this alive. Like the air crackled with energy. A lot of this was his enhanced senses, but a lot of it was...something he couldn’t explain. Something wonderful.  

Mad’s ministrations on Hunter’s cock became intense. She was really enjoying what she was doing to him. He felt and tasted amazing. She enjoyed listening to his heavy breathing and groans. It made her feel powerful to be able to make a partner react like this. To bring someone such joy. 

“I...can’t hold it together much longer” Hunter gasped. “Is this how you want me to finish? Or do you want me inside you? 

“I want to hold you and kiss you when you cum” 

“Are you...do you need any...protection?” Hunter momentarily felt guilty he hadn’t asked sooner and certainly didn’t want to kill the mood. 

“No...I haven’t been fertile for...awhile now.” Mad inwardly cringed. How can you say, hey I started menopause early...without it sounding so unsexy? “The kitchens been closed” she giggled self-consciously. 

Hunter chuckled and pulled Mad up to embrace her. They kissed passionately, running fingers through hair, nibbling lips, earlobes, necks. Ardently stroking each other's back.  

Their lovemaking ramped up as they both fought for top.  Neither willing to concede bottom.  Rolling back and forth on the lounger, making it rock wildly.  Whomever was in the apartment below The Oasis was NOT getting any peaceful sleep tonight.  Finally, they settled with Hunter sitting up and Mad straddled him. She slowly lowered herself down upon his length. They both shivered as he slipped into her warmth. Mad held Hunter still and without moving, worked her pelvic muscles around his cock. He gasped in surprise. Then she slowly undulated her pelvis up and down, side to side. Her hips were dancing while he was inside her. It was more than he could stand to not explode. 

“Uhhh...Mesh’la...kriff...” 

"Mmmmm..." Mad smiled, eyes heavy lidded in the throes of ecstasy. Starting to shudder, pressure and heat building inside of her. Hunter grabbed her hips. They held onto each other and rocked in unison.  Their breathing heavy, punctuated by growls, gasps, sighs. 

Both Mad and Hunter were overtaken by the returning feeling experienced earlier, like a tidal wave forming within them. Rising up, up through their bodies, cresting, and crashing with intense emotion and sensory feeling as they both climaxed together.  It was an almost out of body experience.  Neither was aware of how loud their screams of orgasm were.  They finished hot, sweaty, exhausted and panting.  Hunter lovingly stroked Mad’s face.  They held onto each other, forehead’s touching, relishing the afterglow. 

The moment was interrupted by a drunken voice. 

“DAMN!  Somebodies havin’ a bangin’ time up there!!!  Hee, hee.  WOOOoooOOOooo...” 

Neither one spoke as they tried to catch their breath.  Hunter and Mad just stared with shocked eyes at one another.   

“Ya woke me up.  Imma movin’ somewhere else to give ya’s some privacy.”  SOMEONE had passed out against the building on the street.  They could hear cackling and amused mumbling as he wandered away.   

Both relieved that they were now TRULY alone, relaxed in the afterglow.  The stars twinkled overhead as Mad laid comfortably upon Hunter, embracing each other.  As Mad opened her mouth to speak, they both heard a loud CRACK!  

The wooden settee collapsed, having broken in several places, dumping them both onto the rug underneath. 

Hunter and Mad laid there shocked for a few seconds. 

“FUCK!  Cid’s going to have my ass for this!!!” 

Mad howled in maniacal laughter.   

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

To read Chapter 3

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/729052697841582080/hunter-x-ocfem-reader-ongoing-series?source=share

[ineloqueent]

hey, tina! i know i'm literally YEARS late to the party, and you're not really as active as you used to be on here, but i genuinely NEED to tell you that starstruck absolutely changed the trajectory!!! of!!! my!!! life!!!

there's so much to say about your fic, i honestly don't even know where to start.

first of all, you're an absolutely brilliant writer!!<3 and when i tell you this is my new favourite fic OF ALL TIME i really mean it, and i've been reading fics for, i don't even know how many years, at this point??? :')

everything about starstruck is, to put it simply, PERFECT!!!🥹 your writing is so unique and descriptive, i could picture ALL of the scenes in my head perfectly. honestly, i'm genuinely convinced you're a genius, and it's safe to say i'm in awe!!!

as a slowburn enthusiast, startstruck is actually EVERYTHING to me— the yearning, the pining, the longing, it was so exquisitely written i don't think i'm ever recovering, it just hit me right in the feels??!!!?❤️‍🩹 i genuinely went through every emotion known to humankind, and it was the best experience of my life, and i'm NOT exaggerating. i don't think i've ever smiled this much, and don't get me started on how many times my heart literally melted!!! <33 i'm not going to lie, i cried my heart out when i finished reading it, because what do you mean one of the greatest pieces of literature i've ever read has an ending??? i'm still not over that, i must admit. :')

the banter, the interactions, the dialogue, and everyone's characterisation were so wonderfully crafted i'm still speechless, it's just THAT good. i genuinely couldn't stop reading, i literally had to restrain myself from binge reading the whole thing, because i wanted to savour it for as long as i could‼️

i adore this fic so much that i went as far as writing down some of my reactions, so i can go back and reminisce the magical experience that this fic is and now i have a folder in my notes dedicated to starstruck and starstruck only (as one should, obviously)!!!

okay, this little ask is turning out longer than i anticipated, but i swear i could literally go on forever🫶🏻 this fic literally changed me as a person, and i think about it all day everyday agh <3 you have no idea how much i appreciate you for sharing this work of art with us, simply no words can do it justice!! <33 i can't even begin to explain how much it means to me🥹

i hope you're doing amazing, because you truly deserve the world!♥️ sending you lots of love mwah🫶🏻

oh. oh my god. i don’t even know what to say. this might be the best ask i’ve ever received, wow 🥹

i can’t believe you took the time to write all this out to me!!!

my days of writing starstruck were some of my favourites; i can’t remember the last time i felt so inspired and just full of joy sitting down to write, so the fact that you loved starstruck so much means the absolute world to me!!!!

you flatter me so much, and i greatly appreciate your incredibly kind words about me and my writing.

i think that i will treasure all of these compliments forever. thank you ❤️

[girlfictions]

hari need to know your thoughts on the succession finale once you finish it 🙏

i’ve genuinely been in a state of shock since i finished the ep so i’m probably going to ramble terribly bc my brain will explode otherwise.... thoughts under the cut!!! and massive spoiler warning obviously 💪

OKAAYYY in no particular order:

greg getting whacked was beautiful i wish he'd been stomped into a pulp honestly sorry for not being able to separate the art from the artist but nicholas braun is a weasel and i hope he gets hit by a car

that being said tom and greg's interactions this ep were top tier i'm not a tomgreg enthusiast like That but i think every scene of theirs was hilarious as it was twisted

tom this whole episode... phenomenal. matthew is just a cut above in terms of acting he embodied tom's hunger and desperation and patheticisms so perfectly i really felt more and more unsettled by him every appearance

i do wish we had more stewy screentime but i also wish that for every single episode arian moayed is so freaking talented and charismatic and amazing and he ate up every second he was on screen

speaking of stewy. "you kiss guys on molly" <- BITCH.....? i actually don't know if i've mentioned this on tumblr but i'm a kenstewinator for life and frankly this was confirmation that they explored each other's bodies at college idgaf what anyone has to say about it

ohhhh my god the fucking "meal fit for a king" scene. i can't even find the words for it. seeing them all so happy and having so much fun with each other in that moment was just so heartbreaking bc i KNEW it wasn't going to last 😭 like my mum and i literally checked how much time was left in the episode after that scene and looked at each other like Wellll something terrible is going to happen isn't it.

kendall My beautiful baby boy kendall IM SORRY I WASNT YOUR MOTHERRRRRRRR . i could honestly write an essay about kendall in this episode alone i have never seen such a tragic crumbling of the self maybe ever. him sitting at logan's desk thinking he's finally won... his reaction to shiv betraying their deal... him attacking roman like i was seriously breathless my god that entire sequence was fucking crazy

and to be quite honest if i was kendall in that situation well i would have killed myself in that damn board room and changed the trajectory of all those old hags lives forever . like "i'm a cog built for one machine" And now he has nothing no father no siblings no wife no kids no company my fucking goddddddd 🤦‍♀️

i started chanting "please please please dont kill yourself" out loud in the final scene and i'm dead serious the kendall water motif HAUNTS ME and i was so freaking scared . but that final frame is honestly equally awful like kendall alone with colin in the background him basically becoming logan with none of the power this is seriously the worst possible ending for him.....

shiv doomed to repeat the pattern of being under a man's thumb is genuinely so deeply demented jesse armstrong sleep with one eye open. and i hate it so much because it makes so much SENSE like yeah she's lady macbeth she's caroline she's the wife she's the mother and she will never be anything else okay OKAYY.

like that scene w her and tom in the car where he waits for her to hold his hand was so fucking spine chilling also the ambiguity of us not knowing whether tom knows that shiv was the deciding vote in his favour is crazy <- i do think it makes sense that he would know but just shiv having that as a bargaining chip so they can sting each other over and over again like its all about the cycles i fear

roman being so resigned to it all by the end was sick like ok that comment about kendall's kids was evil but i still felt for him howeverr i do think out of the trio he will be objectively the most okay in the future... like he's free from it all in a way shiv obviously isn't and kendall literally can't be

honestly i'm struggling to articulate anything more i'm still so overwhelmed by how it came to a close.. never have i watched a show that left me so heartbroken and hollow but also absolutely satisfied narratively like succession is going down in the history books FR 😭

also they're def going to sweep the emmys and it will be so deserved i seriously think they need to invent a new rule to allow for a tie because i cannot imagine how they're going to decide between kieran and jeremy for best lead... <- i do lean a little towards jeremy bc i'm a biased kendall girl but kieran's performance esp in the first half of this season was just jawdropping so who knows

this got really long i'm so sorry but i feel like a crazed woman what a fucking show what a fucking ending i will never be the same after this SUCCESSION YOU WILL ALWAYS BE SO FAMOUS !!!!!!!!!!!!

[stormyoceans]

Top 5 ships of 2022 💛

thank you so much for asking, anon!!!! 💜

1. puentalay – vice versa. not only my favorite pair of the year but quite possibly my favorite pair OF ALL TIME. there’s just something incredibly beautiful in the way these two characters were thrown together by extraordinary circumstances and yet fell in love in the most ordinary way, just two souls meeting and connecting and choosing each other time and time again. they went from strangers to friends to lovers in the most genuine, realistic and organic way, which is something that i personally haven’t found in many other pairings. they literally changed the trajectory of my life the game television and the fundamental make up of my entire personhood all while giving effervescent impeccable incomprehensible levels of romance tenderness vulnerability communication openness devotion derangement and love. WHO IS DOING IT LIKE THEM. NO ONE.

2. vegaspete – kinnporsche. it's the twin flame gothic doppelgänger mirroring he is more myself than i am whatever souls are made of his and mine are the same of it all!!!!!! it's watching the careful constructed mask you've built for yourself your entire life being torn apart and getting dragged kicking and screaming into the light to finally being seen for who you really are!!!!!! it's the two of them in their corners with their monstrous needs and starving themselves until they find the only person who can feed them and sate their hunger!!!!!! i know they're not everyone's cup of tea which is completely understandable but also GOD. WHAT AN ABSOLUTE FASCINATING AND COMPELLING DYNAMIC.

3. skyjao – secret crush on you. the amount of absolute joy and delightment these two brought me week after week after week almost rivals that of puentalay. a single episode would take me HOURS to go through just because i kept giggling kicking my feet screaming into a pillow at all their scenes. it was also incredibly nice to see a chubby character not only being loved but being DESIRED and encouraged to feel better about his body. they are lovely and sweet and HOT and one of the biggest surprises of this year for me.

4. togawanozue – old fashion cupcake. if i were better with words i would honestly spend hours waxing poetry about this show and these two. maybe it’s because im closer in age to them compared to the majority of pairings in BL shows, but they are just so very dear and so very important to me. their narrative is all about the possibility of discovering yourself and finding love at any age and it’s being told through what im quickly realizing it’s becoming one of my favorite tropes: food and hunger and starvation as a metaphor for intimacy.

5. danyok – not me. unlike the first four couples, it was extremely hard for me to pick one for the fifth place. there were way too many contenders and yet none of them felt as right as danyok. my feelings for them are very complicated and i don't think i will ever be able to forgive the writers for what they did to them in episode 13, but despite everything they still mean the world to me and there must be a reason if almost a year later i still can't get over them. i guess being seen for who you are and being loved anyway will never not make me lose my mind.

ask me my top 5 favorite anything

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

MICKEYYYYYYYY have i mentioned that i love u. that i would die for u. prince!gojo is so real actually bc i too would burn the world down if u asked <333

BUT HONESTLY u r so unbelievably sweet and kind and it means so much that u liked this fic 🥺🥺🥺 and that u took the time to write these notes!!!! they made me smile so wide u have no idea!!!!! im just abt to go on a lil christmas trip so im gonna be reading em over and over again while im travelling <333

AND U GET ITTTTT im so!!!! so happy bc u really do get their dynamic so well im??? the whole thing abt prince!gojo being spoiled and getting all he wants, but what he wants most of all is for reader to have a good life!!! yes!!!! exactly!!! i wanted to make some of their feelings for each other more subtle but the key part to understanding my prince!gojo is that everything he does is w reader in mind… i dont think he cares at all abt becoming king but he studies for it and works hard bc he knows he can protect u better as a king :< 

(i only kinda hinted at this but that One incident w the castle maid is supposed to be like. life-altering for him…. bc its the first time he feels genuine anger and sees genuine injustice first hand and its directed at his best friend of all people??? in my brain its also the first and only time he sees knight!reader cry and i think hes lowkey traumatized so hes just constantly worried that someone will eventually hurt them and that he’ll have to watch them cry again psbdjdjf I LOVE HIMMMMMM T_T)

OHH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THE LIL KNIGHT AGENDA…. i giggled and kicked my feet writing it. hes just so..... in my head he hates when u call him ”prince” or any royal title bc it feels so impersonal and detached meanwhile hes out here calling u ”little knight” excessively bc he thinks its cute LOL.. its a petname to him <333

and the throat cutting motion….. yeah. one thing i wanted to capture w their dynamic is that prince!gojo is a lil insane and would 100% kill someone for reader meanwhile theyre like haha as a joke right? and gojo just goes. 😙 and doesnt reply PSBDJDJ its Not a joke

and mickey the intimacy…… u get it so well. the entire river scene was basically just me going hmmm how can i make the air between them as silently intimate as possible 🤔🤔…. but u just Get it <33 the hand kiss the smiling!! hearing each others heartbeat…. they make me ILL

aaaaa im sorry this got long as u can tell they make me insane. thank u for bringing them into my life <33 i know ive said this like five times atp but u rly have changed the trajectory of my life im even LESS normal abt gojo than i was before….

i just!!! rly want u to know how much it means to me!! how sweet u r!!!! i am sending u so many hugs rn u dont even KNOW. i hope u have the loveliest day and eat the tastiest food and then have the comfiest sleep anyone has had ever <333 i am telepathically transferring all my happiness to u <333333 i love uuuuu!!

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only rly hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog �� scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look crosses over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here �� doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air, and you breathe it in. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere. “— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

after a moment’s pause, he shakes his head. cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[chibimyumi]

Hi

I hope you're doing well

I have questions if you don't mind

Who do like Axel von Fersen in Marie Antoinette or Axel von Fersen in 1789 les amants de la bastille and also do you like Marie Antoinette in Marie Antoinette or in 1789 les amants de la bastille

Thank you for answering my questions

Dear Anon,

I am doing well, thank you very much! I hope you too.

Hmmm, as a quick answer I would say I prefer both Marie and Fersen from ‘Toho MA’, but the full answer is slightly more complicated.

Firstly, it is almost unfair to compare them to each other because in MA they are the main characters, whereas in 1789 they are main-support or secondary-mains at best.

Secondly, MA has a far bigger focus on the characters because that is what drives the plot, while the opposite is true for 1789, which mainly sells a spectacle. I myself am more fan of subtle and deep story-telling rather than spectacular shows, so the MA versions of Marie and Fersen are more to my liking.

Thirdly, the quality of the characters also depends greatly on the cast. My first view of MA is the A-cast, and therefore my impression of the characters is that they are incredibly well written. After comparison with other casts however, I started to wonder whether it was just the A-cast being too good, and the musical itself being ‘fine’. (In short; I’m not fully sure how much I’d ‘clearly’ have preferred MA Marie and Fersen were it not for A-cast. Click here for a comparison between the two casts written by my friend @wildandwhirlingwords)

But, I shall go into more detail for both characters why MA’s version appeals more to me - someone who enjoys character writing most.

🌹Marie Antoinette🌹

M.A. 2018

In my opinion Marie Antoinette is better in MA because you see her journey and her motivations. We all know that the historical Queen screwed up majorly, but in MA we see why, and in what ways she indeed had very little other choice from her own perspective. She was a flawed foreign woman in a time and place where flawed foreign women were hated most.

In the beginning of the musical the King comes tell Marie that she’d have to live more economically. Marie is clearly not very enthusiastic to hear that, but she also never protests. She just asks ‘why’ and then accepts the answer - albeit broodingly. More importantly however: we need to keep in mind that despite being called Madam Deficit, the historical Marie Antoinette was actually quite economical at first because the Austrian court where she comes from was way less extravagant than the French. It was after her marriage into French royalty that she became more extravagant, because she was criticised for “not being a proper royal” by the French. According to the court, the 14 year old Marie was “a peasant unworthy of becoming Queen.” When you’re that young and criticised by your entire new life, you do everything in your power to make sure you can actually have a life; you adapt. So when Marie was then suddenly told to stop ‘adapting and be a proper Queen worthy of the French”, we can see why more is at stake than “Karen needs to deal with only 10 dresses a week.”

Something else that adds depth to her character as opposed to her 1789 counterpart is that as the story progresses, Marie actually grows. She becomes more mature and more serious, and you see in her how all the events have a clear toll on her. From her own perspective, she really was trying very hard, but anything she tried was inadequate to improve the situation. What she didn’t know is that no matter how hard she tried, the situation was already un-salvageable before she was even born. The populace AND the court had already decided to hate her for being an unintelligent foreign woman from an enemy state, after all. This is an insight most historians nowadays agree on.

In a later scene where Margrid confronts Marie, she asks the Queen: “what makes you think you are better than us?” Marie confirms nor denies, but replies: “I am merely Queen as I was appointed by God.” When she adds: “All I know is duties, you are free,” there is also a clear sense she genuinely doesn’t know why she was appointed by God, but as she is now, all she can do is her best. She is still ignorant, which was a genuine problem about her. She does not know the hardships of not being from the top rank, allowing her say something as insensitive as: “at least you’re free.” But again, despite her ignorance, her feelings are sincere. From all the unfair expectations she was made to live up to from age 14, you really do see why ‘a life without duties’ seemed so much more appealing to her.

1789 - The Lovers of the Bastille

Marie in 1789 is more of a side-character, and the musical itself just is not very character/story driven as MA is. 1789 has the tendency to take the tropiest of tropes and stay on surface level with the characters. Ouki Kaname is an incredibly good actress and she tries her best; but she cannot do more than the script gives her to work with.

In this musical Marie is not portrayed in a very relatable or sympathetic light. She is extravagant because she has escapist fantasies, but we don’t really see what she’s escaping from. The sympathy from the audience is supposed to be drawn from the tragedy that she’s married to the King but is in love with Fersen. Oh, and she has a son but he’s mortally ill. Meanwhile however, you don’t see how her life is so bad she needs to escape... and you also don’t see Marie really being worried about her son than an occasional: “Oh Ill again? Sucks I guess. Gotta cry my eyes out on my lover’s lap, AHHH FERSEN 💗” It was not until her son had already died that Marie woke up, but the lack of portrayal of Marie’s perspective and the pacing really makes one legitimately wonder whether the child did not just die of Marie’s neglect. And about the forbidden love ...we’ve seen enough love triangles with star-crossed-lovers... I don’t know about you guys, but I am numbbbbb to this “problem”.

When Marie receives message from Olympe that she finally gets to meet her lover after a long separation at the Palais Royal, one of the first things she says is: “is that not the place where revolutionaries and prostitutes are gathered?” This immediately sets up an empathy-barrier between her and the common people. This Marie clearly views herself too good for people who do anything to get by; why would you care about her then? Because Marie’s story is not fleshed out you don’t see parts that can make you go: “oh, the revolutionaries really hate her for reasons beyond her control, she is in danger.” Or “she was raised by a puritan society, making her hate on sex-workers; that’s part of her character flaw.” Instead it’s just this Diva being quite judgemental.

Ouki was trying very hard to make the focus about her own safety, but with the script being what it is... she’s still a mostly unsympathetic character who is a martyr of forbidden love.

There is one scene where we see her take on a much more mature and responsible role. That was the first time I personally felt like Marie from 1789 is an actual human being with feelings and personal difficulties. But in great part this is Ouki’s acting... (the other cast didn’t do much for me). What is also important is that Marie was ‘humbled’ because her son died. Marie did not have much of a personal growth, and then she changes to a more sympathetic person because of an external factor just... feels less earned.

In the finale Marie appears again in her execution clothes, and the way Ouki appeared really felt like a punch in the gut. She sings “as a recompense for our griefs, people have learnt forgiveness.” However, the story skimped over the characters so much I was left to wonder: “who learned to forgive whom?” Do you think the people forgave you? Or was there somebody you hated but now learned to forgive? What was your grudge? Do you understand the angry mob’s grudge?

The finale of the musical treats like after the heroic sacrifice of the protagonist (Ronan) the oppressive monarchy was replaced by a good democracy, and a Reign of Terror will DEFINITELY not happen under Robespierre or something. But if you’ve had a BIT of European history you just know it’s a blatant lie. So the finale just feels too simplistic, and this simplistic feeling was in part presented by Marie’s very empty, lip-service-y line.

⚔️Hans Axel von Fersen⚔️

M.A. 2018

Fersen is a bit harder to compare which version is better, because honestly, depending on who plays Fersen in MA, Fersen is either the most generic Hollywood sweeping-lover-hero, or a diamond mine to excavate. In the same post linked above by my friend, she explains in detail the differences between TashiroFersen and FurukawaFersen. K-musical fans, don’t @ me, but from what I can tell, the Korean Fersens are also very... typical.

In this post I have discussed Furukawa’s Fersen in great detail, so I shall skip over these for this post. But to summarise, when portrayed by Furukawa at least, Fersen in MA is very nuanced and restrained. Even if we do not fully credit Furukawa however, then at the very least the script allows enough space and material for an actor to flesh him out so phenomenally well (I think Tashiro and some other actors just.... really missed out on the potential).

Fersen in MA incredibly memorable because the main atmosphere of the imminent doom awaiting everyone is carried by him in a way nobody else does. The moment Fersen enters you feel the tension that the musical wishes to tell. Fersen has seen revolutions, he’s seen the power of anger; he knows shit is going to hit the fan because he’s familiar with this trajectory. 

Fersen has excellent self control because he knows how a lack thereof would hurt Marie’s reputation and escalate the growing chaos. You can see very clearly how Fersen does want the intimacy, but to him duty and the grander picture has priority. In all the small actions from Fersen you see how he is a savvy intellectual through and through. (More about reservation later).

In contrast to 1789, we also get to see so much more of Fersen in MA because he is the narrator and a main character. Throughout the musical he’s been trying to de-escalate the chaos and even though his plans were actually well thought-out, the problems were just simply too big for any one person to solve. When Fersen mourns Marie there is a clear sense that he is not really surprised, just really upset that things had to come so far. Instead of singing something accusatory to the angry and hungry people, he sings: “fate, why did you give her everything, only to show her hell in the end?” Fersen truly understands why the people were duly angry, but that not taking away his sorrow of losing Marie who he knows is a better person than people make her out to be.

Also in great contrast to 1789, the finale of MA is rather grim. It does not suggest hope or that all problems will eventually disappear. The story for these people have ended, but the problems and the world will continue to our days, and days far beyond ours. It gives a feeling that the world of MA is so extensive that we - the audience - are part of it. In the finale when we see Fersen again, he also stays in tune with this feeling. “How can the problems of the world be solved, what is true justice? We remain clueless” he sings, and the way he looks into the unknown distance is almost a reminder to us that nobody has reason to stop worrying and fight for justice.

1789 - the Lovers of the Bastille

Now if we were to compare MA’s Furu Fersen to 1789′s Fersen, we see a stark contrast between the two. Where Furusen was incredibly reserved and hyper aware of everything, 1789′s Fersen is just the over-romantic lover who had been pining for his love. For a moment Marie realises she probably should not be cheating on her husband and backs away. Fersen however, is the one to make further advances, actively pulling her back to his side.

When he embraces Marie you see how he is just dreaming and indulging, something Furusen would never do. Furusen might hug Marie, but not without sh*tting 50 colours. 1789′s Fersen is the sweeping Romeo that most of history makes him to be, and little more. But again, Fersen plays but a very small role in 1789, so it is also unfair to compare him to MA’s Fersen.

Regardless of whatever nuance might or might not be there however, it is also just quite hard to like this Fersen because he is ‘just another privileged aristocrat who is just needy’. When making out with Marie in Palais Royale they find out that Ronan fell asleep there drunk. Ronan simply complained that Marie was too loud and woke him, and Fersen immediately shuts him up, and then draws his sword at him for ‘speaking rudely’.

First of all Fersen and Marie, if you’re gonna do a clandestine meeting, you CHECK your surroundings. Second of all, FERSEN Ò.Ó, this peasant is untrained and weaponless; you can’t just unleash your high-ranking martial arts at him with a shiny sword. This is EXACTLY the reason the revolution happened; the people were sick of the suppression of the powerless by the powerful. UGHUM. It truly is mind-blowing to consider how 1789 Fersen and MA Fersen are both...Fersens.

This Fersen is not very involved with the revolution from either side. He just proposes to help Marie and the King escape once, but got dismissed immediately. The following time we see him it is in the finale.

There he stands, a knight in shiny armour singing a really hopeful phrase to a relatively upbeat and hopeful music: “do not rely on force, but seek for hope and courage.” Here again unlike with MA’s Fersen, you don’t really feel like this Fersen has experienced anything. It was like he was an employed special guard, told by his boss there’s nothing he needed to do, his boss is dead, and oh wellll, moving on!

Conclusion

Because Marie and Fersen in MA are main characters whose stories are fleshed out, it really is very unfair to compare them to their 1789′s counterparts in a race of ‘who is better’. In the end of the day, 1789′s aim is to sell a spectacle, and it realllly is a phenomenal piece if you’re there for the spectacle. The choreography, songs, stage, everything is masterpiece-level. So if you’re there for the spectacle you get exactly what you went there for. The story and characters however... not so much. If one is more drawn to a direct, glittery spectacle with hands-down-amazing-songs however, they’d probably find Marie and Fersen from 1789 more enjoyable. If you’re into first and impressive impressions, the MA counterparts might demand a BIT too much attention and patience to get into.

Related posts:

Introduction and character analysis Fersen ‘MA’ 2018

Comparative commentary on MA Cast M and Cast A

[cherryblossomshadow]

Wonder Woman 1984 review

Long, rambly, and spoilery. You’ve been warned. 

I saw WW84. I had thoughts. Let's talk about it. 

I want to preface with the fact that it's amazing that we have another female-led superhero film! I loved Patti Jenkins' work with the first Wonder Woman (and this one too) and I'm so glad she's back for this one. There's obviously a lot to pick through, but first, a couple reminders.

No film will ever be "perfect."

Not every film is made specifically for you. 

It is okay to vibe or disvibe with something. But that does not make it trash. 

Also, please, keep in mind, what I'm expressing are my opinions. I'm entitled to mine as you are entitled to yours. I hope you have a lovely time on the internet, and I hope you wish the same for everyone you interact with. 

Oh, and spoilers obviously. 

Okay, with all that out of the way, let's dig in. 

My overall experience with the film is positive! I had a great time watching it, it got me emotional, and I definitely want to watch it again. That said, I don't think it's better than the first one (although that would have been quite a feat), and that's ok. It's a continuation of a story we've already started, and it doesn't need to outshine the first. 

Okay, after all the hyping up and disclaiming I've done, let's dig into what I didn't like about the film. 

Number one is pacing. The storyline felt very erratic to me? Part of that, I feel, is because we have three (four?) main characters, and we jump between them pretty abruptly. 

Number two is the themes. Now I do like the themes of WW84 (truth and sacrifice), I just don't think they were worked into the film as cohesively as I would have liked? 

Number three is perceived character changes to Diana. And really, some of this is kinda circumstantial, I just thought it deserved its own bullet point. You'll see what I mean. 

So, on Pacing.

We jump between Diana (and Steve), Barbara, and Maxwell pretty frequently. And before I talk about that, I have to talk about my view on the characters. 

a. Now, I love the Mandalorian, but I was not personally invested in Maxwell's arc at all. Again, this is my take, and I know people disagree. Many people feel like Pedro Pascal carried the film on his shoulders. That's cool. He's a great actor. I'm glad he was in it. I just kinda checked out of every scene he was in (when he wasn't with his kid) because I wasn't invested in him. He played a sleazeball on purpose, and it worked. I was sleazed. So the movie kinda dragged for me whenever the camera panned to him. 

b. I loved the focus on Barbara. I don't know Cheetah from the comics, so this is from a movie-only perspective. But I know one of the criticisms of the first film was that Diana didn't really talk to women after she left Themyscira (even though there was a perfectly good villainess sitting right there for her to converse with and have morality debates/fights with! Even Steve Trevor got to talk to Dr Poison!), so I thought it was great that 1) they set up a villainess for her to fight and 2) it was a villainess that she knew, she had talked to, she had formed a relationship with. It honestly surprised me that Barbara was helpful for so long (bc I had seen the trailer and got spoiled that she would become a villain), but I love that she genuinely did want to help Diana, up until she hit her hard limit (giving up her powers). Now, that being said, the Nerd Girl Makeover has been done a thousand times. I knew what her vague trajectory would be from the second she appeared on screen with frizzy hair. I did like that her motivation was not solely "pretty people are mean to me, and I want revenge and/or for this hot guy to like me," but specifically, "I want to be like this really cool girl" and then "I don’t want to be like anyone else; I want to be the best/number one" for myself." But I felt like the absolute inattention that she was shown at the beginning and the absolute worship Diana and later Barbara would get was ... highly exaggerated? And I know this was another criticism of the first film, that yeah "Diana did so well in the real world because SHE'S HOT and that's actually not empowering to women" or something. But like. Watching that part made me uncomfortable instead of seen. Pandered to, instead of impacted. Showing how looks change how society treats you is important, but not to this caricaturized degree. 

c. (and d?) And lastly, Diana and Steve. Or more accurately, Diana and Steve's soul or memories or ??? that has been transplanted into some random man's body with absolutely no one's consent (I don't believe that Diana "consented" when making the wish, because she didn't know 1. That it would even work or 2. HOW it would work.). So ... Yeah. The first problem with this (chronologically, not by importance) is that it's really unclear what's going on? Some rando is reciting Steve's lines from the first film, then all of a sudden he turns into Chris Pine? (Fun fact: my aunt actually recognized the actor from Hallmark 😂 Could you imagine being the guy who gets replaced by Chris Pine for half the movie? Like "yeah, I played Steve Trevor, but they had Chris Pine do all the important parts" 😂😂😂). So, Diana and Steve finally figure out that he's inhabiting some engineer's body because of the wish she made. And then they bang. Or do they bang before they figure it out? Either way, yikes 😬. Not a good look. 

To be clear, the yikes part is that Steve is inhabiting Engineer Dude's body without their consent (without his own either tho so that part's not really his fault), but then he chooses to do things sexually with that body that Engineer Dude didn't consent to (because he's like, literally not home. Whether he's been subsumed into Chris Pine or taken out or dormant or whatever). Oh, and then like, probably doing death-defying stunts with his body is also yikes. I'm not really sure what the rules around body possession are. Cuz you know. 

Anyway, that is a huge issue that is literally not addressed. At all. 

Again, I think they may have been trying to address some criticisms from the first film about Diana "getting rid of the dreaded V-card so quickly in Wonder Woman and then pining after Chris Pine (lol) for the rest of her long life" and how that sets back female sexuality and stuff. Which I get. They actually lampshaded it in WW84, how Chris Pine wants her to move on because "the world deserves her." Which I know what they were going for in the scene, but I feel like they didn't flesh out the journey from Hippolyta's "the world doesn't deserve you Diana" to Steve's "the world deserves you (to date them)" enough. But I digress. 

I'm gonna talk a little bit more about the possession and that "the world deserves/doesn't deserve you" line in my Themes section, but honestly? From the previews, I assumed that Chris Pine was revived from the dead via time travel or something. Body possession was NOT in the the trailers. I think the Dreamstone could have created a body for him out of nothing. Or like "time-traveled" him into the future. So like. Why didn't they? Why introduce body possession at all? So they could make fun of the dude's clothes? 

Okay, back to the pacing part of the pacing section. These three (four?) characters have completely different things going on in their lives (I actually forgot to talk about Maxwell, but he wants to "be the best," and he's gonna do it by giving people what they think they want (maybe) and then taking from them whatever he wants. Yeah idk). And all three do interact at the beginning (brownie points) even if the attempted seduction of Barbara by Maxwell makes me want to throw up. But the themes aren't worked in as cohesively as I would have liked, and the tone changes were jarring, as the film switched between them all. 

Another facet of the movie is that the Dreamstone is kind of a mystery. And that was a deliberate Choice™, not a mistake. We're guessing at what the rock is doing and how and why and by who and all that stuff, and that's on purpose, but that makes for a confusing experience. Their approach is to throw something confusing at you and then explain it later. Which is great for worldbuilding. But not always for the Movie-Watching Experience™. So to recap, we're switching tracks and characters with their own separate stories while also setting up several confusing plot points that take a while to unravel. This all contributes to the Experience™, good or bad. 

Honestly, I wonder how much Covid affected this movie? My dad felt like a lot of scenes probably got cut for various reasons, and it probably affected the flow of the movie. If so, it could have affected thematic coherence, too. Speaking of... 

So, Themes. 

The themes that I got out of this film were Truth and Sacrifice. Maybe I missed some; I'm not an experienced Media Critic™. But these are the ones I noticed. 

And actually, these themes are really strong. Universally applicable, and used in all three character arcs. It's just tied in a bit ... erratically?

So working backward, knowing that the Dreamstone is giving you a lie, you need to renounce your wish and accept the Truth™. This is echoed in Diana's flashback, where she needed to accept that she didn't win. 

Working backward again, Sacrifice was a big part of the story for all three characters because Diana was willing to sacrifice her power to keep Steve, but he wanted her to sacrifice him so she could save the world. Barbara was willing to sacrifice her "humanity" or "empathy" or whatever she lost for the power and influence she got by emulating Diana, and she was unwilling to sacrifice that to save the world. Maxwell was willing to sacrifice time with his son to "become the best," but he did sacrifice that to save his son's life. 

And then, full circle, he confessed to his son that he wasn't the best, he's actually a filthy liar. Which, yes, kudos for the themes, be honest with your children, but you can still sanitize it a bit. That speech alone would have traumatized the kid. 

Speaking of speeches, Antiope's speech confused me in a similar way? Like, she stops Diana from "winning" the tournament after cheating, and goes on this weird rambly rant which goes from "accept that you're not a winner" to "cheating is bad and so is lying." Which yes, cheating is bad, but it's weird that she wouldn't have been disqualified at this point for not shooting that last target? Like, did she need to be tackled? Idk, I felt like they came up with the line they wanted Antiope to say first, and then just made her say it. (And also, in other stories, Diana would have been praised for being "clever" and "never giving up without a fight." So like, I needed a bit more preparation for which take they were going for, because the anti-cheating spiel felt jarring to me.) 

And again, I wonder if this is a response to a criticism of this first film. (Warning: WW17 rant gearing up) 

When Diana has her big motivational flashback during her fight with Ares, she thinks about Steve, this dude she just met a week ago, saying he loved her. When she could have been thinking about literally any of the women who had raised her. I personally think it would have been cool to hear some of Antiope's words at that point. Since they set up Hippolyta and Antiope to have conflicting ideas over whether Diana should fulfill her humanity-saving destiny, it might have been cool to see her saying something about humans and how they need her or how she should help them or something. They could even have done the whole thing with not being able to hear Steve's last words, but with Antiope since she dies earlier in the film and doesn't finish speaking. I also think it would have been cool for them to expand Hippolyta's earlier line about "They don't deserve you, Diana," here to like "They need you, Diana," or something. And then Steve's line in WW84 could have been something like "They're with you, Diana," or "They could get to know you, Diana," and her character arc could have been about actually living among society and maybe getting to know these humans that she's saved so many times (which they kind of alluded to when she and Barbara had their little date at the beginning of the film). But I digress. 

So, yeah, I found both of these speeches to be ... Not great? Like I can tell what they're going for and how they tie into the themes, but they're so heavy-handed and they don't actually fit in too well to the moment they happen in. Like as soon as the speech starts, you realize that they started going meta on you. The character isn't really speaking to the other character, they're speaking to us, and they're telling us how this scene ties into the greater themes of the film. 

Oh and they have this great quote from Antiope "greatness is not what you think" and then Maxwell's son wishes for him to be "great." And they do nothing with it :(

As promised, I want to talk about the body possession a little bit more. So again, one of the recurring themes is Truth™. Which is a great choice for Wonder Woman, what with her Lasso of Truth. 

But it's tied in a bit haphazardly. They force it into a conversation about cheating in a flashback at the beginning of the film. And then they talk about how you need to accept the Truth™ in order to defeat the Dreamstone. I already talked about the cheating, and how the "accept that you're not a winner" was kind of a weird path to take to get your point across to a ten year old girl. 

But the Dreamstone. Oh, the Dreamstone. I said before that the movie is a mystery. It shows you things but doesn't explain them. Well, this is a bit of a problem. Because they never actually explain that the Dreamstone is giving you lies. To my eyes, the Dreamstone is changing reality. Steve is back, Barbara is powerful, and Maxwell is doing whatever he wants with the powers of the Dreamstone. THIS DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A LIE TO ME. THERE IS NO "TRUTH" TO ACCEPT, JUST YOUR NEW REALITY. And that made the film less thematically strong (to my eyes, anyway. Other people probably picked up on stuff I didn't). But I feel like this might have been an easy fix? Like you already have Chris Pine in someone else's body (oh! So that's why they chose body possession! Because he's a Lie™! ... Still don't like it) I still think he should have manifested his own body or something but whatever. Barbara's appearance hardly changed at first. If they had people reacting to her as if she was hot when she really looked the same as she always does, then I would have bought your "but the Dreamstone only gives you lies." Instead, Barbara gained the power to walk in heels and then hotness and then the literal power of a God™ (a la Diana) which makes me think the Dreamstone is changing reality. Not bringing lies. 

Oh, also, they could have had Diana's Lasso of Truth stop working for her. I thought that's what they were going for at first, but it turns out that Diana is just losing her powers. They also started with "the Dreamstone will give you what you want most," but then Maxwell started using it to clear traffic? Which by the way, is NOT an illusion. That is reality-bending. 

There were just so many ways to make it obvious that "the Dreamstone is giving you lies," but they didn't use them. Or at the very least, they didn't commit. I felt like they used a little bit of "be careful what you wish for" (mostly on randos that Maxwell is duping), a little bit of "what are you willing to sacrifice," and a little of "you can have what you want, but it won't be real." All of which are valid ways to take a Dreamstone kind of story, but if they wanted to rely so heavily on Truth™ as the main theme, then I feel like more of the wishes should have been showcasing that. Instead, it felt like a jumble of all the kinds of messages we're used to seeing with Wish-Granting Objects, with no emphasis on specifically the "it's all a lie" part. 

Ugh, I'm actually mad now, because I'm trying to think of a story I've heard where this magical thing is granting wishes but they're Explicitly Not Real. Like all the money gets turned back to leaves or whatever (kinda like Cinderella's pumpkin lol). Oh, Aladdin does this, too, because yeah Genie is granting wishes and changing reality, but not permanently? Like, almost all of the stuff he uses magic to do dissolves as soon as we're looking away from it or gets fixed by the end of the movie? And the film is very very clear on the fact that Aladdin is not factually a Prince. 

But this film doesn't do that. They make it seem like the Dreamstone can change reality, then berate the characters for not Accepting the Truth™ about themselves. Maybe if they had made a bigger deal out of Steve coming back in someone else's body, it would have been 1) less confusing, 2) less icky (provided they don't do the sex in Engineer Dude's body), and 3) more thematically coherent. 

Lastly, Diana's perceived character changes. 

This one is probably the most subjective. Diana, as a character, in the first film was very morally grounded and motivated. The Diana in this film felt ... different. Again. Subjective. And also circumstantial. 

Diana is still morally grounded in this film. But she's also willing to sacrifice the world to keep Steve Trevor around. Which feels like a jarring change from her characterization in the first film. She was so idealistic and optimistic in that first film, I couldn't imagine her making that choice. It just felt like such a tone change for her character. How did we go from "Who will I be if I stay?" to "Why, for once, can't I just have this one thing, Steve? ... I can't give you up. I can't. So I won't."

Also, her motivation in this film seemed to center around her loss of Steve Trevor and wanting him, and less around "save the world." Which, to be fair, I'm all for women being selfish in film. Give me women of all motivations and desires. I don't want Diana to be Perfect™. I just want her to be consistent. And I didn't think this characterization was as consistent as I expected. Was her life so terrible without Steve (even though they only knew each other for a short time)? Not to say this couldn't be a valid take on Diana (reminder: I haven't read any comics, so maybe it's not in character at all 🤷‍♀️), but if that's what they were going for, they should have developed the journey from naive idealist to jaded romantic more in order to justify this character change. 

Also, the body possession thing. She's really okay with her boyfriend possessing somebody else's body. I did like the "All I See Is You" line, since it's romantic, but up until that point, we as viewers aren't really sure why Chris Pine and Hallmark Dude are both playing this guy. Then we find out in a romantic line that Chris Pine is just Wonder Woman's view of him. He still looks like Engineer Dude because he is Engineer Dude. At first, I thought that they used a different guy for the first meeting because Diana didn't recognize him. That this was her perception of him until she realized who it was. (I thought this was supported by Chris Pine's more rugged look in this film. But actually they were probably matching him to the body he was inhabiting, since the character really didn't look like himself). Leverage does a similar thing in the Rashomon Job. All the characters saw each other at the same event, but they didn't know each other back then, so they had different actors play their parts until it's slowly revealed that actually the random people at the event were the characters we know and love. It's great. Anyway, that's not what they're going for here, and the ambiguous framing along with Diana and Steve's chemistry is supposed to make you forget that he is possessing someone else’s body! Against their will! (Again, Steve and Diana didn't consent to the initial possession either, but they absolutely consented to what they did together. Engineer Dude did not.) 

Yikes  😬

I will say, she didn't kill innocents this time. One of my critiques of the first movie was that she was so willing to kill Germans. And I get it, Nazis are usually an "acceptable" target in American media. But as a character, she believed that they were innocents who had been manipulated by Ares. And yet, she was slaughtering them en masse. But, in this movie, they're really careful to make sure that she's nonlethal. 

And yeah, that's it.

Asteria was of course awesome. That bonus credit scene was 👌

I'm glad they got Linda Hemming back for costuming after the disaster of Justice League. Unfortunately, being set in the 80's, the outfits are not quite so modest as the first movie. But the important thing was the lack of male gaze in those shots.

The movie definitely hit me in my emotions. I cried three times: first during the tournament, watching the Amazon's being awesome. Then during Diana and Steve's fight, and when Steve convinced Diana to let him go. 😭

As I said, I definitely plan on rewatching. It makes me sad to see how much negative press that the movie is getting when it's one of so few female-led blockbusters. A lot of people are comparing it to the original or to the comics or TV show, when those are just not valuable comparisons. Comic books and TV shows are completely different mediums. And a successful sequel CONTINUES a story, instead of rehashing it. And also, not all films are created specifically for YOU. A lot of the 80's references went over my head, but that's ok. They weren't for me. I don't begrudge their existence just because I don't vibe with them. 

Again, no film is perfect! I think I talked through a lot of its weaknesses pretty thoroughly, but I still think it's a strong film, and I want it to succeed. 

Anyhoo, I hope you had fun watching the movie (even though it's not perfect) and I hope you had fun reading my commentary. 

(Fun fact: I actually ran out of space in my notes app and had to stretch it across two notes)

[batmansymbol]

spoilery thoughts on the marvelous mrs. maisel season 3

oh. oh. my Fictionalized!Lenny-obsessed heart. his jokes are so good. his physicality is so endearing. i am crushing so hard. i am going to reblog gifs of every scene in episode five.

i REALLY wish they had just made him a fictional famous comedian instead of, you know, Lenny Bruce, because i think the writers are slowly realizing midge has way more chemistry with him than anyone else, but they can’t wind up together because he was a real person.

the writers did it! they made me like joel again!! i was so annoyed with him during season 2, but we’re back!!! crazy what can happen when a character has an objective and exhibits appealing personality traits

but why, why, is the show still determined to give abe and rose long, protracted, uninteresting subplots?! midge’s parents are ONLY interesting when they’re onscreen with midge. no exceptions.

seriously, what the hell was with the rose’s trust fund subplot??? “abe lost his job, so we’re broke!” “just kidding, we’re not broke; there’s a trust fund we’ve been pulling from!” “but now i have pulled out of the trust fund because of Pride and Feminism, so we’re broke again!” y’all could have just left them broke in the beginning, cut out the middleman, and subsequently, this totally inert subplot.

and the activist newspaper?! fuming. not even gonna get started on that nonsense.

i loved the trajectory of Sophie’s show. actually, i loved everything involving Susie this season. Alex Borstein is a GIFT from GOD and we do NOT deserve her.

can we please at some point acknowledge that she’s not straight tho?? please???? ever?????

speaking of queer things

what happened to Shy in the last episode made me so sad. on one hand, it’s written well as a genuine misunderstanding. and it’s written well overall: as midge did that final set, i felt myself moving slowly outside her perspective. i heard the set from Shy’s point of view and it gutted me!! can you imagine one of the only people you trusted, maybe the person you’ve trusted most ever (given that Shy told Midge his real name, which he hasn’t even told Reggie), basically outing you onstage in front of thousands of people? making jokes about effeminate gayness when he isn’t even an effeminate man? obviously midge is supposed to be clueless sometimes (eg when she says in horror, ”he called me a ‘white girl’!”), but watching that set felt like one of those terrible epiphanies where you realize what someone’s thought of you all along. as if the second she found out the truth, the only thing she could think to joke about when it came to him was his sexuality, and not little foibles like she lampoons in everyone else.

overall, i’m torn. part of me wishes it hadn’t happened because it just... felt bad to see. at the same time, i’m intrigued that they’d show midge’s cluelessness actually doing damage. in reality, so often, people don’t get permanently hurt out of malice, just obliviousness or miscommunication, and that doesn’t show up onscreen nearly as often.

in fact, the whole last episode seemed to show midge’s flaws in a way we’ve never really dealt with: the revelation of how much she hurt benjamin, and then possibly ruining the life and reputation of a real friend. it’s highly unusual for this show. i'd love to see the writers engage with this further and show her, idk, growing and changing from these experiences, but i honestly don’t know if they will?

which is a bit frustrating to watch! that whole tirade of susie’s about how sophie isn’t brave but midge is, because midge refused to do that live radio commercial for, basically, an alt-right politician? i feel like the idea of her bravery or principles actually could have been driven home, if at the end of that last episode, midge had voluntarily given the rest of her tour openings to moms mabley because she realized she’d gotten preferential treatment, or something. that would have demonstrated real character in the way susie was talking about, and no outing scene necessary.

anyway. shy deserved better. i don’t really want to watch the show without him. and here i was all hopeful for a happy ending where reggie realized he was in love with shy or something. :(

still, i really loved Reggie in that final scene. obviously i’m not going to prescribe what story they ‘should’ have told, and given what they chose to do, it all felt realistic, Reggie insulating Shy from Midge after she hurt him. but i wonder if them flying off into the night will be the show’s pretext for writing Shy off and letting Midge go unchanged.

i don’t think the show is trying to go too deeply into this, but there’s something interesting to me in the idea of comedy as something that strips away your desire to grow as a person. rose brushes against that concept in her final confrontation, saying she doesn’t want to laugh at people’s flaws and misfortunes. if midge keeps fucking up and fucking up and never grows, only jokes about her defects (or displays her defects through jokes), that suggests her persona is closing around her, locking her into those flaws; it suggests you can’t actually exorcise your demons onstage, only define them more and more clearly. what does it do to a person when they splay open their worst feelings and are rewarded by the crowd for it every night. what a disincentive to get better and to be better.

to conclude: fictional lenny bruce is hot in a suit. time to queue up gifs.

[dirtyfilthy]

The Betrayal Of Chelsea Manning By The Coward Adrian Lamo

I have only participated in “cancel culture” once that I can remember. Once, over the broad course of my life, and that was when Adrian Lamo sold Chelsea Manning out to the authorities. Motherfucker has the  sheer gall to call himself a hacker, and then rats someone out — not because of his principles, but from a constant desire for pure narcissistic supply -- and all this from a position of trust no less… 

I was real angry, and I wanted to put the boot in, any way I could. There was a special circle of hell reserved for people like Adrian Lamo… and as it would turn out, he was already in it. 

Amongst petty vendettas like stuffing his wikipedia page with all the well referenced dirt I could dig up, along the way, and kind of by-the-by, I ended up doing a lot of research on the guy, and then, well, the picture of Lamo that emerged… 

Jesus. 

He’s been a hardcore benzo addict since his twenties. If you know what to look for you can tell in some of his interviews, slurring his words and looking very spacey.  He never really had a real job, never broke into the industry he was aways on the fringes of. It’s kinda crazy, if you search for “homeless hacker Adrian Lamo” you can still see what the mass media thought of him before he turned in Chelsea. 

He’d kind of weaselled his way into popular consciousness by being a shameless self-promoter, and then managing to get caught in that spectacular “rebellious teenage hacker” vs. “huge faceless corporation” way that tends to capture people’s imagination. 

There were whole articles about him in Wired. Multiple in fact. Here’s one of earliest from 2004 (unfortunately now behind a paywall), “New York Times vs The Homeless Hacker”. The first few lines can still give you the gist, however

A self-styled security expert and serial self-promoter, Adrian Lamo made headlines as a grayhat hacker. Then the Gray Lady came down on his head. Not long ago Adrian Lamo was exploring an abandoned gypsum processing plant in West Philadelphia with two friends, when a police cruiser drove slowly by. Lamo’s friends were high on methamphetamines…

https://www.wired.com/2004/04/hacker-5/

Even during this phase of his life, a lot of people in the scene didn’t like him. At least, there were people complaining on hacker boards about him stealing exploits and then burning them for the publicity.  In the end he got off with probation and home detention, and that was the end of blatantly hacking into shit. Any more and he would certainly end up in prison. Attitudes were changing, the authorities had stopped seeing hacking as just high-spirited teenage hijinks. and the increasingly severe penalties could land you some serious time. 

After this, he just sorted floated around. He never got job in the industry like the rest of us, and I suspect he may have been  basically unemployable for one reason or another. The next time he popped up in my news feed was in 2010 with a strange article from ex-hacker turned journalist and friend of Lamo’s,, Kevin Poulsen — “Ex-Hacker Adrian Lamo Institutionalized, Diagnosed with Asperger’s” 

The first paragraph or so reads:

Last month Adrian Lamo, a man once hunted by the FBI, did something contrary to his nature. He says he picked up a payphone outside a Northern California supermarket and called the cops.

Someone, Lamo says, had grabbed his backpack containing the prescription anti-depressants he'd been on since 2004, the year he pleaded guilty to hacking The New York Times. He wanted his medication back. But when the police arrived at the Safeway parking lot it was Lamo, not the missing backpack, that interested them. Something about his halting, monotone speech, perhaps slowed by his medication, got the officers' attention

— (https://www.wired.com/2010/05/lamo/)

The article claimed Lamo had been arrested for acting strangely and then institutionalised, basically claiming the police had arrested him because he was autistic. At the time, I didn’t really give this a second thought, “oh well, ho-hum”. As itt turned out, this was a case of the most spectacular kind of “spin” I think I’ve ever seen; the only place the article actually intersected with general consensual reality was in stating Lamo had been arrested and placed on psychiatric hold.

The real story, which is entirely far more pathetic, was that Lamo’s family had become worried about his benzo use (“prescription anti-depressants”) and had cut him off. He totally lost the plot at this point and stormed out of house. Concerned about his mental state, and with fears for his physical safety, it was actually  his own family that called the police to try and find him. 

When confronted about this fairly massive discrepancy, Lamo claimed he hadn’t exactly “lied” as such, and had simply withheld some facts due to personal privacy concerns. 

It was at this point I finally began to see the whole tattered trajectory of Lamo’s entire life — trace the greasy path of his rainbow with my fingertips, and watch as the once bright twine became  increasing gray and frayed as each thread began to curve back towards it’s inevitable impact with the earth, when, at which point, everything important would begin to totally unravel around him.

At his core, Adrian Lamo was a narcissist, and so Adrian Lamo absolutely believed in the Adrian Lamo narrative, as only a narcissist can. Near of beginning of his tale, this was easy to do. He was a wandering Daoist sage, a renegade techno-monk character in a Neal Stephenson cyberpunk novella, and anytime he wanted to see his own reflection he could simply look in any of the major newspapers.  

After his arrest and release, the rest of the world moved on. His peers all settled down to well-paid industry gigs, and you couldn’t just pop the New York Times through an open proxy any longer — well, at least: not most of time, anyway. His own sword, never the exactly the sharpest in the first place, was beginning to show some signs of a serious structural rust. 

Without the constant assurance of people telling his own story back at him, what was he exactly? What did the mirror portray to him now?  An unemployed, semi-homeless drug addict, a hacker who couldn’t hack his way out of wet paper back with pick axe, the tired punch line to any number of bad jokes...   

Of course, the many similarities to my own life were not exactly lost on me. I was basically a case of being a few near misses and unlucky hits away from sitting in his exact position. I had made the transition to an industry career successfully, but I was still a drug addict with mental heath issues.  I had gone through my own narcissistic stage when I was younger, but thankfully grew out of it, the old moons no longer pulled on my tides the way they used to. 

The essential Lamo pattern had began to emerge. Still chasing the same bright stars that had long since sunk beneath the horizon line of the ocean; Lamo would begin to feel irrelevant —  Lamo would get then his name in the media in some fashion. A momentary peace was then achieved, then came a brief period of post-orgasmic. cosmic serenity. 

But of course, the wheel of karma will not stop spinning for anyone, and so, soon enough and all-to-quickly, the entire process of personal renewal, would have to, you know…..  begin anew.

A few other case studies were observed. An unreleased, permanently unfinished documentary featuring Lamo was mysteriously leaked on the internet. Of course, Lamo himself had leaked it. And there was always appearing on various morning television shows, Good Morning America, Fox News & the like.

But then the mother of all opportunities just dropped into his lap.

Chelsea Manning needed someone to talk to. 

Chelsea knew Lamo was Bi, so he was at least in the LGBT community. Adrian was a hacker too. He’d fought against the system in his day, he was certainly someone who would “get it”, she was very sure of this.  And when she did reach out, he was indeed very sympathetic. Honestly, it seemed like he really cared. Just a genuine human being, reaching out across the vast emotional void to provide a sense of empathy to someone who really, really needed it right now.. 

He was very sympathetic when Chelsea told him all about her struggles with gender identity, and he was very sympathetic when she said she was leaking gigabytes of information to Wikileaks…. But behind his sunglasses, Lamo eyes had already morphed into a marquee LED matrix endlessly scrolling his own name. Think of the news coverage!

This was big. This was very big.

It would, in fact, turn out to be fucking huge. Of course, within in the hacker scene, and to a certain extent, even outside it, everyone just fucking loathed him now.  Eventually even the news moved on, nobody wanted any more interviews, and in the end, when everything has already been all said and done: you are ultimately left with only yourself….

… a pathetic drug addict.  Of course, I have to keep telling myself that one point of intersection does not an entire venn diagram or an actual equality make. But I can’t shake the feeling that, perhaps, maybe we weren’t really all that different.  Maybe my own betrayals have had the simple luck of being a lot less public. 

Perhaps my own sins were just as ugly, but far less ambitious. 

Adrian Lamo died alone, from a drug overdose, in a private unit in an aged care facility in Wichita, Kansas.  He was 37 years old. An autopsy showed his kidneys were already failing. 

I guess Sartre got it wrong. Hell isn’t other people, it’s being left totally alone, with nothing else around but the tedious company of your own terrible self, and of course, the fucker won’t stop talking...

So obviously there was nothing more I could do to hurt Adrian Lamo, nothing that Adrian Lamo hadn’t done already. He had long since locked himself away in a prison cell of his own making. I do wonder if maybe one too many silent 3am’s hadn’t come crawling around the clock face when he was there & awake to witness it, lying in bed & staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about things.

Like I’m doing.

Shit, I hope don’t go out that way. 

[amostimprobabledream]

My thoughts on Peaky Blinders...

Now I’ve finished Season Five, I wanted to get out my thoughts/ideas/opinions regarding the show. So strap in! - So first of all, the fucking cinematopgraphy in this series is gorgeous. You could take almost any scene and it looks like a painting. The lighting, the way it’s staged, it’s all just so visually pleasing to look at. My inner film student was just sighing dreamily at the shot composition. There’s a shot of John, Arthur and Tommy walking somewhere and you could fucking frame it and put it in your wall. - CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY, CILLIAN MURPHY. I mean, I always knew he was a good actor and also a pretty one, I think the role I remember him best in is Batman Begins, but holy shit, I never realised how hot he is until like two months ago. I know he apparently hates his Tommy haircut, but good lord, he can pull it off. The cheekbones! The eyes! The eyelashes! The sexy voice! Needless to say I saw him and immediately developed the biggest fucking crush. Apparently when I talk about Tommy to people my face goes pink. Thank you so much, show, for enlightening me to this human. Tommy is such a fantastic character, and I do wonder if another actor could pull him off quite as well. So much debate over his actions, motives, mindset, etc. I could probably write essays about the complexities of Tommy, but I won’t because this is a long-ass post anyway. He’s such a boss and I would die for him. - I actually really like Arthur??? So the very first clip of PB I ever saw was accidental, when I happened to turn the TV on and the Blinders were taking over the Eden Club and Arthur was glassing a guy in the face. I thought, “Oh, he’s probably like the dangerous thug character everyone is scared of.” (I didn’t know he’s Tommy’s brother at the time.) But actually he’s kind of endearing despite being the Shelby’s pitbull? Idk, the concept of the “failure” elder brother, how Arthur is the character the verbalises PTSD the most out of everyone, how one minute he can be lashing out like a rabid bear and then sobbing like a kid the next... I’m always like, “Oh, Arthur,” because you can see he wants to be a better person, but he just...doesn’t know how. - JOOOHN. I miss him! And it’s weird because in the early parts of the Season John doesn’t DO much but tag around after Tommy and Arthur, but his marriage to Esme is actually So Good and again, he’s actually kind of a softboi under the hard gangster act. (Also his “Do THIS, John, Do THAT, John, KILL YOUR FOOKIN’ TEACHER, JOHN!” is so fucking good.) He kind of provides a lightness when contrasted to Tommy and Arthur that I really do miss, because the last two Seasons have been very grim and I think John’s absence has something to do with it. I liked Esme too, even if she’s a stroppy bitch, her love for John but resentment of her role in the family and also she’s HELLA PRETTY. I’m sad her character has gone for now, but at least she wasn’t killed off. - I also love Ada a lot - I was really shocked when I read that Sophie Rundle hasn’t been acting all that long before she got the part in PB, because honestly she’s very good! And her concept again is a fun one - the only girl in a family of violent gangster boys. (Or as Freddy puts it, “The only princess”, which she is.) Having said that, I’m not sure how I feel about Ada’s character arc over the course of the season. In One she came off as kind of childish and still sort of stuck in her Rebellious Teen phase, then she became a mother and Freddie died, then in Season Two she’s trying to distance herself from the family and go legit, then in Season Four and Five she’s helping run the business and taking money from Tommy. Idk, I wish she’d play a more major role like her brothers because her motivations seem to change based on what the screenwriter wants, not what feels natural for her. Plus it annoys me that Ada blamed Ben Younger’s death on Tommy, but Tommy gets a lot of blame for things that aren’t his fault so I guess he’s used to it. Still, Ada is still a lot of fun when she does get to play a big role and gets some great lines later on. “Tommy Shelby is going to stop a revolution with his cock.” - POLLY, MY QUEEN! Easily the best woman on the show (sorry, Ada) and such a fucking badass. She’s definitely the voice of reason within the family and conflicting loyalty is a really interesting theme that gets explored with her, between her arguing nephews and niece, between her family or whether she wants to marry again and leave, her relationship with Michael, it’s all so great. Helen McRory is such a brilliant addition to the show. Also I love that Polly kinda represents women taking over after all the men went away to war and now they’re back, but the women aren’t just going to creep back into the house - World War One changed the workplace forever for women and I think Polly being the second in command after Tommy reflects that really well. - I think overall my favourite seasons have been Seasons One, Two and Four, I tend to find I get a bit bored in Peaky Blinders whenever it gets especially heavy on politics like in Season Three and Five and I admittedly kind of miss the simplicity of the early days of the show when it was about horse-racing, but the Changretta vs Shelby feud was genuinely really gripping and Adrien Brody was also Very Good. (I mean, I couldn’t take him seriously because of Brodyquest, but I like him a lot.) - I HATE GRACE. There, I said it. And honestly I have SO MUCH to say on why I hate her and also why I think she is the epitome of bad writing that has happened on this show that I might as well save it for a whole nother post, but Tommy and Grace’s relationship always felt so unnatural and forced to me, like they are in love because the screenwriter said so - Grace is the only woman Tommy knows who isn’t related to him and also because it pisses off Campbell. Like, she was tolerable if highly irritating in Season One, but then Two came along and she just got worse and worse. She’s annoyingly convinced she’s better than everyone else, pulls off a LOT of questionable shit that NO-ONE except Polly ever pulls her up on and Tommy repeatedly pining over a woman who lied to him and betrayed him makes no goddamn sense. I wish Stephen Knight would just let him get over her, because her showing up over and over again in the show after the bitch died two Seasons ago is so infuriating I want to throw my remote at the TV. The best bit of Season Three was someone finally putting a bullet in her, honestly. /rant - On that note, I really wish that they’d use May properly. She was introduced in Season Two and honestly her chemistry with Tommy is about a thousand times more believable than anything he had with Guuuhrayce and also May doesn’t consistently talk in that annoying, breathy voice and also she doesn’t shamelessly manipulate Tommy constantly. It’s too bad Stephen Knight couldn’t get Charlotte Riley back for Season Three owing to her pregnancy, because I think the trajectory of the show would have been very different. But her scene where she spoke about her husband and tried to hide that she was crying? So good. The fucking Face Tommy gives her when she asks for a mixer in her gin? Priceless. Agh - May’s been chronically underused in the show but she keeps getting mentioned every now and then, so I’m hoping there are plans for her to come back in Season Six. I really like her and I honestly think Tommy/May has been the best relationship he’s had, because it’s the only one that’s felt A) Natural and B) Equal. - Lizzie Stark. Okay, so I have mixed feelings about Lizzie. I liked her in Seasons One and Two, because she was this down-on-her-luck woman who was treated like crap by everyone, but she wasn’t wholly without her own flaws or personality - she did lie to John and Tommy did act in his brother’s best interests to tell him the truth. The scenes she had with Tommy in Season Two when he promotes her to his secretary were honestly very cute and my heart broke for her when that solider nearly (?) raped her in Season Two and she cried in John’s arms. But over time she’s started to irritate me. I know that people feel bad for her because Tommy honestly does treat her badly at times, though other times she’s also one of the few people he’s nice to, their relationship is complicated. But truthfully I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie every working out properly because Lizzie was a whore. She’s always been Tommy’s inferior and while I do think he cares for her, she never seems to think it’s enough. He doesn’t love her enough and she’s never satisfied with it and she’s always resentful of him. But you can’t FORCE someone to love you and it’s interesting that the minute she learned she was pregnant, you could see her thinking of how to make this work. She pulled the Baby Trap on him just like Grace did and got married like she wanted, but Tommy still doesn’t truly see her as his equal. And honestly, I don’t think she’s smart enough for him. Add that to Lizzie being EXTREMELY petty to other women (including her being really rude to May and slut-shaming her - bit rich from you, isn’t it, Lizzie?), and I don’t think they have a healthy relationship. I do like little Ruby a lot (way more than Charles, who is a spoiled brat because he’s Grace’s son and has a martyred dead mummy), but honestly I don’t see Tommy/Lizzie working out. I just hope that she doesn’t leave and take Ruby, I think it’d break Tommy to have his daughter taken away from him. - Alfie Solomons. So...I have to confess I have mixed feelings about Alfie. I liked him in Season Two because he’s batshit crazy, Tom Hardy is clearly having the time of his life and it’s refreshing to have a rival to Tommy who isn’t cartoonishly evil like Billy Kimber or Sabini. He ties into Season Two very well and yeah, I can see why he’s so popular. Also he’s pretty attractive, so that always helps. But. Alfie is starting to come across a bit like a creator’s pet to me. He consistently betrays Tommy every goddamn Season and while I know the fandom love to joke about this, it’s pretty inexplicable that Tommy would bother to continue to do business with him after being burned so many times and now it turns out he’s alive. Why? Why bring Alfie back? I feel like he was brought back because he’s a fan favourite and to add another suspect to who betrayed Tommy. I don’t hate Alfie at all, but I am starting to wish he’d face actual consequences for his actions, considering every Peaky Blinders character who fucks with the Peaky Blinders tend to suffer horribly for it, but not Alfie...for some reason. - Michael. Okay so Michael’s actor is pretty damn good and I thought it was cute that he and John’s actors are actually brother irl - you can see the resemblance. And honestly bringing back Polly’s missing kids was a really clever idea because there’s a family tie, but one that isn’t so strong you can always be sure of where his loyalties lie. His subplot with Father Hughes in Season Three was both very sad and very well done - I was cheering him on the whole way. But Season Five has made my opinion of Michael take a dramatic nosedive. He’s gone from sorta-sympathetic to an entitled brat almost overnight. I get he’s probably salty about being banished to America by Tommy in Season Four, but where has this sudden desire to rule the company come from? How did he meet Gina? Is he lying about Gina being pregnant because he figured it’d win him sympathy? I don’t know. He’s changed so drastically, and when Polly gave him that slap, I think she was doing what everyone wanted to. It’s too bad they just wrote Anna off as being dead, though, Michael having a sister and Polly a daughter would have been interesting. - The music?? Is so good?? I love it! Especially the themesong, obviously, but so much of it is always ON POINT. It makes me wanna buy the entire soundtrack. - Unpopular opinion, but I think Campbell was the best antagonist of the show, mainly because he was a vile person but still believable and had the best dynamic with Tommy.  - Season Five was honestly kind of hit-and-miss for me, it seemed like a lot of people are pissed at Tommy for fairly silly reasons in the beginning and I just didn’t find the political subplot all that interesting...but I still will definitely tune into Season Six. (Also these are all just opinions, so please don’t send me hate if you don’t like something I’ve said. Ain’t nobody got time for that.)

[angeltriestoblog]

I figured out what I want to do with my life! And made a vision board!

It came to me in a flash, really. One minute, I was watching a handpainted narration of the life and death of one of the greatest painters of all time, and next thing you know, I've abandoned it completely and started furiously typing away at my laptop about what I envisioned myself to be in five years' time. And I know I've had my fair share of false alarms in life: I thought I had what it takes to be a lawyer after seeing Legally Blonde for the first time while on my way to a school field trip, and seriously considered pursuing a career as a fashion blogger or MTV VJ because I was kind of fed up with school.

But this one just makes sense. Advising and assisting clients in producing content, collaterals, and campaigns according to their business objectives and based on collected data! It marries my love for writing, my knack for snooping around (the academic term is research!), and the specialty in technology and management my university ensures I'll have at the end of my four-year degree. i have yet to see how it’ll allow me to give back to society since that’s also a factor I want to consider in looking for a dream job but I’ll make it work. I found it hard to sleep that night, thanks to this nerdy, giddy kind of adrenaline rush I had. I broke down this big idea into smaller and smaller action steps until all I had left was a refined list of ideas and intentions, and a splitting headache.

I needed to make sure I was constantly reminded of their existence so all my choices and decisions would serve as a step closer to reaching all of them. So I caved in to the wishes of the "law of attraction" side of the Internet, and created my very own vision board! Simply put, this act of visualization is a powerful technique that can be used to manifest desires and reach goals. Our subconscious minds mainly recognize symbols and images: by merely looking at our vision boards everyday, subliminal messages are being sent to our brains, which will encourage them to work tirelessly to achieve the statements we are feeding to them. I can't find any explanation for this that's less abstract but since many people seem to swear on it and I have a lot of free time and printer ink, I figured why not, right?

It was convenient that I had this small corkboard from Daiso already stuck to one corner of my bedroom wall with several layers of double-sided tape. It used to be a year-long calendar of birthdays but I realized that I've never referred to it and often have to rely on either Facebook reminders or stock knowledge--there is no in between. All I had to do was to look at my list of goals, and compile photos that correspond to each of them, cut them up and arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing manner. You'll see below that I lacked the stereotypical luxury car and beachfront mansion with a walk-in closet and that's because I decided to focus on my goals for the next five years so it looks even a little bit more achievable.  

Here's the finished product, along with explanations for each picture, to make this how-to more personal and to also hold myself accountable.

 Make my girl Jenna Rink and everybody at Poise proud by writing for a magazine | I had listed a specific one at the time, and if you follow me on Twitter and Instagram, you already know what it is and how this endeavor turned out - but on this blog, I'll shroud it in a little cloud of mystery for now and talk about it more in a future post. I'm very happy producing content for this space of mine and have no intention of stopping any time soon. But at the same time I know that I'd be missing out if I didn't take the chance to be part of a community that leads me to like-minded individuals, allows me to grow even more in my craft, and "gives creators a space to speak their minds and push the limits of their artistry, without imposing any restrictions or expectations", as I stated in my application form.

 Be active in three organizations next school year | (I had to blur one of them out because I'm not a member yet and I don't want to jinx it.) I know it's bold of me to assume that we'll be returning to school any time soon, but if we are ever lucky enough, I want to outdo myself when it comes to the orgs I'm a part of. I have been a good follower throughout my first two years of college but now I believe it's my time to try my hand at leading a group of people and being more involved in the conceptualization and execution of projects.

 Go on a trip to Europe | Not even just a specific group of countries anymore (I used to be a France, Italy, Spain supremacist)--I mean the entire continent! (But then again, with its rich history and culture, picturesque tourist spots, diverse cuisines... even the sheer adrenaline rush that comes with being in a land completely different from the one you come from, how could anyone not want to go?

 and 12. Get the job of my dreams | I actually nicked these photos from the website of a cooperative I want to work for once I graduate from college. I know that I can't plan out the rest of my career trajectory as early as now: things are bound to change at some point, but I hope that I stay in a field that combines creativity and business strategy to craft campaigns, create meaningful content, and market solutions to brands.

 Expand my network | I acknowledge how knowing people who know people who know people can open windows of opportunities that I wouldn't have been able to have anywhere else. But I also look forward to building genuine connections with people from all sorts of industries. Talking to the same circle of friends can sometimes feel like you're trapped in an echo chamber: there is certainly much to learn from others' viewpoints.

 Volunteer to teach kids | I don't think the written word could have changed my life as much as it did, had it not been for the presence of English teachers who believed in the power of the language to shape the minds of the youth. I guess this is just me trying to give back and help the next generation express their ideas and bring them to life by channeling my inner John Keating.

 Maintain a clean workspace that is conducive to productivity | Especially during these days, I spend a solid 18 out of 24 hours sat at my desk, trying my best to make magic happen. It's very important that I keep it a constant and active source of inspiration, free from any distractions, and at the right level of comfort. Although it's not as minimalist as I hoped it would be and my table is about an inch too high for my liking, I'm still pretty satisfied!

 Document memories consistently, be it through a physical or online journal | Speaking of clearing out my room, I recently found around 20 notebooks I had filled up over the years. Though maintaining them must have been such a hassle especially as I got older and reading through them was a distraction from completing the task at hand, I am thankful I painstakingly chronicled everything going on in my life and kept them in good condition. Seeing the goals I had set for myself all those years ago and how I achieved most of them without making a conscious effort has inspired me to do my older self a favor by putting in the work now so she can reap the rewards. (While I'm on this note, can anyone recommend a good app for journaling? I keep all my current entries in my Mac's Notes app because even though I am more of an analog person, I seemed to have lost the patience and persistence required to keep a physical journal. But at the same time, I'm scared of my laptop suddenly cr*shing and wiping out everything I had stored)

 Stay focused on my work always | I didn't know how to show this without having to spell it out in words so I Photoshopped my face onto the head of a woman working in a cafe because those who study in coffee shops along Katip always look like they're getting stuff done.

 Keep learning about the world even when I'm outside of the classroom | And this is not limited to frequenting the nearby museum, although that does sound like a great idea right now. This could also mean attending seminars, workshops, and talks, buying books and binge-watching documentaries or YouTube videos about a topic that I find interesting, engaging in discourse with someone (plus points if they have a different viewpoint!)

 Write my own book | Before I even found out that humans were destined to pick a career and work until they died, I already knew that I wanted to spend my days as a writer. Specifically, I wanted to see my name on the cover of a book: By Angel Martinez. (Please refer to the 4:32 of this video and look at how far this dream actually goes back.) But once I realized that I wanted to enter the world of business, I thought I would have to give this up altogether. Thankfully, I now know that one's ability to get published is not reliant on their career--I mean, even beauty gurus get book deals these days. I'm not really sure what it's going to be about but I'd honestly be down for anything: even if it's just a compilation of my best entries on this blog.

13. Go all out when I take myself on self-care dates | I'm talking about picnics at the beach, with a basket full of fruits, a posh looking hat, and a good piece of classic literature! Or fancy dinners for one complete with as many glasses of red wine as I can down! People watching at Downtown Disneyland like my paternal grandmother in hand, with a plastic bag of souvenirs on one hand and a cream cheese pretzel on the other! (The possibilities are endless and I'm already mapping most of them out.)

14. Be financially stable enough to re-enact that one scene in Pretty Woman where Vivian Ward struts down the streets of Beverly Hills in a chic white dress and black hat, an endless number of shopping bags in tow | The part where I humiliate a sales lady who snubbed me the day before because she didn't think I could afford what she was selling by saying, "You work on commission, right? That's right. Big mistake, big, huge." is entirely optional.

I also included some two inspirational sayings that were originally laptop wallpapers from The Everygirl. I feel like they perfectly sum up the attitude I want to have as I forge my own path and accomplish everything I have set out for myself. If I was somehow able to convince you that this activity serves as the perfect springboard for all your dreams and aspirations, here are a couple of tips that could hopefully help you make yours!

Be ready for some intense introspection | Though it may look like a simple arts and crafts activity at the surface, making an effective vision board simply cannot be achieved if you're not willing to do some much needed reflection and watch it balloon into a full-on existential crisis. Identify which areas of your life are most important to you and how you would like to see them evolve over a period of time.

Specificity is key | The trick is to make your goals as concrete as possible, then translate them into visual elements. I know some people who wanted to get into particular universities, who have Photoshopped their names onto acceptance letters and pinned those to their corkboards. As stupid as that may sound in retrospect, I reckon it's an elaborate way of claiming something that's right within your reach.

Design it any way you want | Don't feel pressured to make it look like it's worthy to be on someone else's Pinterest because that's exactly how you lose sight of why you're doing it in the first place. The only person your final output has to resonate with is you.

Don't get discouraged | Although a vision board can attract positive energy and manifest your intentions to the universe, one thing it isn't capable of doing is granting your wishes in an instant. Don't be upset if what you have cut out and stuck on has yet to happen: I truly believe in the saying that the more you look for something, the more it seems to avoid you. Instead, continue to work hard and focus on the progress that you have already made.

Have you made a vision board of your own already? How has it turned out, and how many of the things you had put up have come true? I know you may be a complete stranger from the other side of the world but I'd be happy to hear from you anyway! Wishing you love and light always, especially during trying times such as this. Wash your hands, pray for our frontliners, and check your privilege!

[addictedtostorytelling]

Part 1- Hi! (Feel free to ignore I don’t want to bother you) your lost answer to anon got me thinking about an old headcanon I could never get str8 (Jate’s my lost otp & I love suliet to pieces). In “LaFleur”, sawyer says Kate’s face is gone from his memory, 3y’s enough to get over someone. But as soon as she’s back, he keeps glancing @ her as to figure out if he believes his own words. Except from the obvious writers’ ambiguous trick to keep the “square” alive for a bit longer,

Part 2- I thought it was some sort of leftover tenderness they shared toward each other (that Jack/Juliet didn’t get) cause despite their incompatibility, I believe they genuinely loved each other. So my question really is: do you think, post “the end” S & K find à way to accept that they care about each other, help each other get over their losses, learn to belong even if it’s just in each other’s lives (as friends or more) ? Sorry for this novel and thanks.

hey @clarissemcc!

so my headcanon for how things turn out with kate and sawyer post-island is definitely on the angsty side.

i’ll tuck it after the “keep reading,” just to be safe.

___________

as the final on-screen events of the original timeline in the series finale take place, jack has made the decision to remain behind on the island (where he soon dies), and juliet is already dead, meaning that both kate and sawyer return to civilization faced with the prospect of going through the rest of their lives bereft of their respective soulmates.

both of them undoubtedly mourn.

both of them undoubtedly suffer. 

but, ultimately, kate is better equipped to cope with her loss than sawyer is his.

that’s not to say that things are easy for kate, of course.

when she is finally reunited with jack in the flash-sideways universe, the sheer yearning in her “i’ve missed you so much” admission implies that she has likely spent years on years---a full lifetime---in the ot grieving him. 

losing jack after just having reconciled with him for the first time since their falling out in the wake of their broken engagement and after everything that they had been through together both on and off of the island most certainly leaves her heartbroken and reeling. 

she probably never really gets over mourning him and wondering “what if---?”

i honestly don’t see her ever getting in another long-term relationship or marrying after him; if she was going to “settle down” in that way, he was the one person she was going to do so with.

that said, i do think that, overall, she is able to face that grief (however long she has to) because she has a sense of purpose in leaving the island. 

she’s going to help claire raise aaron.

and i tend to believe that having someplace to go and something important to do helps her endure a life without jack.

that’s where she encounters whatever healing is available to her and “learns to belong,” like you talk about.

before crashing on the island, she is a fugitive runaway with nothing good or lasting in her life, but afterward she has two people who are looking to her to provide stability for them; she has a family, a home, and, most significantly, a reason to stick around.

not so with sawyer.

before the island, he is placeless---a traveling con man, in and out of prison, lacking a solid identity, much less a sense of purpose.

on the island, and particularly during the 70s in dharmaville, he finally gains grounding, becoming a super competent leader under the guise of jim lafleur and finding a partner---in every sense of the word---in juliet.

and had he been able to leave the island with juliet and marry her, as per his plan, i think he would have continued in the upward trajectory we see from him in s5 and s6. he would have listened to his better angels.

but in the wake of losing juliet, i’m not sure he can---and not just because she’s gone but because he blames himself for her death.

for as gut-wrenching as leaving jack behind on the island is for kate---and particularly knowing that he is badly wounded and possibly close to death---she can at least take solace in the fact that jack makes a choice for himself, and she can honor his willing sacrifice by taking care of his sister and nephew.

sawyer knows no such comfort.

he blames himself for juliet’s death on multiple levels: because he asked juliet to stay with him on the island for “two weeks” which turned into three years (see episode 05x08 “lafleur”); because his behavior around kate after she returned to the island eventually prompted juliet to sign on for jack’s plan to blow up the jughead (see episode 05x16 “the incident” pt. i); and because he literally couldn’t hold onto juliet and dropped her down the shaft (see episode 05x17 “the incident” pt. ii). 

though one could try to argue with him that juliet exercised personal agency both in remaining on the island with him AND detonating the bomb, his guilt and self-loathing would never accept such appeals.

in his mind, he killed the only person he ever truly loved.

and without her, not only does he have nowhere to go and nothing to do post-island, but he also carries with him the sense that he doesn’t deserve to get to go anywhere or do anything.

he doesn’t want to carry on in her absence.

he wants to suffer for his sins.

he wants to experience every moment of agony rightly owed him for his actions.

filled with guilt, pain, and the impulse to self-castigate, i just can’t imagine him faring well.

though kate might try to convince him to not give up, i don’t think he’d listen to her or accept any attempts by her to take care of him---and particularly not because he knows that part of what persuaded juliet to blow up the warhead was her assumption, however erroneous, that he would eventually choose kate over her (“i changed my mind when i saw you look at her”).

even just being around kate as a friend would trigger his guilt in the extreme.

and while he wouldn’t blame kate---as he says he doesn’t, per the scene on the pier---he would still blame himself.

he would always blame himself.

hate himself, even.

and a self-hating sawyer is a dangerous one.

i mean, self-hatred is what underlies his jerky, bullying, posturing behavior during the early seasons of the show, right? and, by comparison, that self-hatred is of a more “garden variety,” rooted in his sense that he has become someone despicable, rather than an extremely personal sense of loss (and fault).

so much more extreme will be his bent over juliet---and so much the worse his self-sabotaging behavior as a consequence.

the pre-show sawyer is an outlaw who lives dangerously, but he ultimately possesses a self-preservative instinct; he is a consummate survivor.

that’s part of what makes him and kate so similar.

and him and juliet, for that matter.  

but this sawyer---the one who feels responsible for getting the woman he loves killed---won’t care what happens to him anymore.

so he won’t do himself in all at once---not when he has a very strong sense that he deserves to suffer for what he has done for as long as possible---but he will drink and smoke himself sick and pick barfights with guys twice his size and run cons where he’s almost sure to get caught and then pull his gun on the cops who show up to arrest him; he’ll be a fucking mess, the likes of which would make even bearded, pill-popping, oceanic-six, los angeles jack go, “oh shit.”

and without any sense of grander purpose, i don’t know that sawyer would be able to pull himself out of the spiral.

kate might try to argue that he has an obligation to take care of himself if not for his own sake than for clementine’s, but he’d probably say that his daughter’s only interaction with him being by way of the trust fund he left for her is for the best.

honestly, i don’t think his story in the ot has any kind of happy ending.

and i don’t think he lasts as long as kate does.

just based on the way i understand his character, i doubt that sawyer allows himself to find any sort of refuge with kate post-island in the ot, either friendly or romantic, even if she tries to offer it to him. he also probably eschews company of any kind from anyone, including their other friends from the island. 

for my money, there is just too much hurt and guilt in him, for which he cannot permit himself any sort of peace, so he strikes out on his own (“some of us are meant to be alone”) to disastrous effect.

while kate undoubtedly worries about him, i think that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, she makes the conscious decision to focus her energies on claire and aaron, resigning herself to the fact that sawyer doesn’t want to be saved, and particularly not by her. 

ultimately, i think their paths diverge.

she learns to live again after the island, and he doesn’t.

all of this postulation given, i’m certainly not harshing on your headcanon! it’s way happier than mine and, frankly, a whole lot nicer to think about.

lest i end on a super negative note here, i’ll finish up by saying that i find it highly significant that in the flash-sideways, kate once again finds purpose in helping claire with aaron, while sawyer is searching---not only as a detective for his parents’ killer but literally walking around with a big, yellow sunflower (his bloom of choice for juliet), trying to find where (or rather to whom) he belongs, hopeful for the life he has always wanted to lead with her. 

though he doesn’t get any kind of happy ending in the ot, at least by my estimation, he does eventually find what he’s looking for in the flash-sideways, and that reunion with juliet is so healing for him. 

anyway, i’m rambling here.

thanks for the question! feel welcome to send another any time. 

[aphelyons]

My Creative Year in Review 2018

stolen from but also requested by inspired by @drstrangewillseeyounow​

Preface: This will be a bit of a mashup of two things; art and writing. But I’ll be clear. This is also a long post, I’m very sorry. Apparently I don’t shut up.

Total number of creations? (Or a rough guess!)

Art - Finished; 221 (not all published) Art - WIPS; 25 Writing - Published; 4 Writing - WIPS; 9 ?

Was there a project that you didn’t get around to?

In terms of starting or finishing? Lol. I didn’t get around to publishing the first chapter of the MU fic, which I desperately still want to before S2 starts. Because I keep writing all the middle bits instead. Nor did I get around to start writing the “winter fic” beyond plot points and a few little scenes.

There’s a looooooooooooooot of art I didn’t get around to either starting properly or finishing. Lol. I have a L’Rell piece I really want to do, as  well as [another] mirror Stamets piece I want to do.

What was the creation you had the most fun making?

Art: Oh that’s hard. A lot of things for a lot of different reasons. I enjoyed the Holiday artworks because they were….really out of my depth and fun. Mostly I loved sending them out on cards to friends.

More recently I had a lot of fun doing the Patroclus and Achilles piece. Loved using golden hues.

Also have a lot of fun with Not Safe for Work-Viewing pieces, but those will never be published here. :D Sorry.

Writing: I had a surprising amount of fun writing the Vampire AU fic [Just a Taste] for Halloween. Which I never expected to write anything vampiric, ever, and also it came together really quickly. Building the world in that short fic was a lot of fun.

Any surprises? (E.g. a character or ship you never thought you’d create for or a project that came out of nowhere?)

Well honestly this whole revival to art and writing came as a surprise, I hadn’t done either in many years. I was also never a Star Trek fan prior to Disco, nor have I ever been a part of a fandom before. This is my first! So that was surprising, also surprising was how massively obsessed I became and how important it became to me. But the best surprise out of all of that is the connections to people I’ve made and the friendships that have come from that. ily. <3 Also not going to lie, pretty surprised that suddenly my art has become mega-fuckin-colourful. Where did this love of neon come from??? Wtf

What was the hardest creation to make?

Writing; MU fic - hands down. I have pages and pages and pages of resources. Not only is it going to be a long story (I endeavour and hope) but also from the amount of which I am pulling from and want to align to canon as as best I can as well. Being a new fan to Trek also... it’s been pretty overwhelming to get these details right. But at the same time, really trying to flesh out a character we never met or saw in the show, and have them interact with the established canon and have that all make sense… That and have the science in it make as much sense as possible, I’ve based a few new things on scientific principles and things that exist and just trying to elevate them to a cosmic scale… and hope I can pull that off too. It’s pretty intimidating. Not going into it, but the way the story weaves and intersects with a few different genres.. I just want to have it make sense in it’s self contained body of work.

Yeah it’s hard. Lol. Biggest thing I’ve ever tried to do. But, I love it, truly. I think about this whole project an inhumane amount of times every day, and I love that. 

It’s also hard because I’d love to be a linear writer, but I am not. At all. I’m constantly writing ahead, well and truly ahead, but then coming back, adding to and editing earlier bits and rewriting and rewriting….rewriting… ugh

The subjects and themes are also a little heavy, and it’s cathartic to write about, sure, but also wanting to do those moments justice and with respect and integrity - because that’s important to me too.

The whole thing is just a lot of fuckin work, lol. But I really love it. Already - and it’s nowhere near done.

Art; Probably the one where Paul is laying down [crying] in the spore chamber. It was my first return to trying to paint semi-realism, and... it didn’t work out. I’m not happy with it anymore, but also proud that I pulled it off. That pose? Hair? HAND? UGH those took me too long to get right. But, overall it certainly taught me a lot to use on future more realism-ish pieces such as the Cosmic/Celestial pics of Hugh and Paul [which I love.]

What inspired you the most this year?

Oh, easy. Discovery. Hugh and Paul, hands down both of those things. But also to the endlessly talented people who I’ve come to know and also enjoy the works of - be it written, art, or otherwise. Creativity inspires creativity. 

What are you most proud of? (A creation, something you learned, etc)

Art: The Cosmic/Celestial pieces. Very proud of those. (So much so I made metal prints of them and they sit on my bookshelf between a salt lamp.) I really love how they came out, and really the original (Cosmic Paul) was kind of an accident, a happy accident if you will.  

Also the piece of Anthony I did for Anthony’s birthday. That was a lot of fun constructing something visually representative of a person.

Any goals/plans/ideas for next year?

Fucking get some headway on my MU fic so I can stop being so annoying by just talking about it, and fucking start publishing it already -  for then it then it would EXIST in the word. LOL. Ugh. That’s the only big plan, that’s all I want to do. Whatever art I will do - I will just find inspiration in the moment to do. No plans, other than the L’Rell piece and a couple other WIPs - maybe.  

Honestly just that and trying to keep improving, both in writing and in drawing. I feel like I’ve improved over this past year, so would love to just continue on that trajectory.

Pick your favourite creations! (Post links and tell us why you love them!)

The Cosmic and Celestial Series I just love how these turned out, especially because it was such a surprise how it turned out originally. But being able portray this cosmic divinity of which I uphold them both to be in my mind was really awesome to pull off. The colours, and dramatic light, this whole thing was so fucking fun. The whole painting with colours as highlights / shadows / dual light source was a huge experiment for me and it taught me a huge amount, so I really love it for many reasons.

The Song of Achilles  I started sketching this while I was listening to the audio book and while I fell in love with these two. Please, again, do go read this book. But the detailing on the spear, the auras and Achilles hair were my favourite bits. Oh and the gold blood. Of course, lol. Loved doing the symbolic imagery 

Anthony Rapp’s Birthday Portrait  Because this man means a whole lot to me, and it was nice really nice for a change of pace to try and depict him and things that are important to him. Also really proud of that shoe, ngl. & And MU Stamets and his Mycelium Sun

Huge experiment in terms of colour and lighting for me, and I love love love how it turned out. Even if it’s a little rough. This one was so much fun, and I also printed this out on metal actually lol. Looks pretty cool.  & First MU Culmets Work Still in my heart, even though it’s a earlier work, because it was the first exploitation of this duo for me, and how they might be together. Also where I came up with the HC for his facial scar, which I always will include in any MU Hugh depiction of mine. But I still really like how their characterisation translates in this one.

Writing

Nomenclature.  

The archaeology AU story I wrote for 30MinuteLoop. Also well, this is the only one that’s safe for viewing that’s published, lol, but I am genuinely really proud of this and seeing it through to completion. 

But also the MU story is a fave, but this is the only published section so far:

MU Snippet (These next couple of questions are directly from @drstrangewillseeyounow​ sorry I’ll be so literal in their structure, lmao)

How you decide on which style to use for individual pieces?

Unless it’s something very specific in mind (like the holiday pieces) I just kind of let it take a life of its own. See what it evolves into. I might have one idea to where I want it to go before I export it to PS, but once in PS it might take a whole new life (prime example if the original Cosmic/Celestial Paul. The original was very flat, and pretty boring lol but really became something else in PS. Actually it was supposed to be originally a visual piece to accompany my Vampire fic - and Vampire Hugh picture. But that changed entirely once I got it into PS.)

(It’s hard to see but there’s a bite mark on the original side.)

I'd also know more about your literal process, as in: what's your hardware set-up, what software do you use?

I have a weird all over the place set up. Lol.

So I do the majority of the work on my iPad, up until a stage where I don’t think I can go any further with it (or need more than 6 layers at my disposal) and then export it to my PC (either work or home) and then work on it further in Photoshop. Of which it then gains infinite amount of layers, lmao. Oh god.

As for the file on the iPad, when I’m working on that I can only have 6 layers. So usually will do sketch/line-work on one (or two, if I have to work a problematic bit but then merge it with the rest) and same with the colour/painting. That’s always on one layer, which I’ve grown to really like working like that. I might do skin on one, then clothes on another, but eventually will merge them.  If it’s a full paint (or even half paint maybe), the colour and line layer will eventually be merged as I erase the lines I no longer need as I go and blend that layer more seamlessly into the painted layer. It just ending up a purely painted file without the original lines. Another layer may be added for more delicate details such as eyelashes and eyebrows, things like that.

Everything I do once exported to Photoshop is just with a mouse, I have a Wacom tablet… But I don’t use it, because I haven’t been bothered calibrating it with my dual monitor setup, and am happy doing most of the work on the iPad anyway as it kinda acts like a Cintiq in that regard. But localised. (Plus I can take it anywhere with me, interstate, overseas, to work, to the park, etc. I love that mobility.) Depending if I need a certain element that’s vector based, I’ll make it in Corel Draw or Illustrator, too. I also have Corel painter....buuuuuuuuut still haven’t used it. That’s a goal for 2019 for sure, lmao. Very occasionally I will physically sketch out the idea (like the holiday pieces) scan, and rework, redraw, line it, or whatever in the iPad then go forth with all of the above processes. 

How long does it usually take you from start to finish?

Art: How long a piece takes really varies lol. Sketches can be between 1 - 4 hours on average, sometimes more. Flat colours will be a couple hours more. Half paints usually 4-8 more hours. Full paints and more realism stuff like the Cosmic/Celestial is total of 18hours+ but those times are just a rough idea, sometimes something just works out a lot quicker. Sometimes longer. 

Writing: FOR FUYCKING EVER. I’m the slowest writer ever.

Do you have art WIPs and what do you think keeps you from finishing them?

I have a lot of art WIPs lol I think just losing drive or inspiration to finish them is what mainly kills them, or me getting frustrated that it isn’t working out like I wanted. Sometimes I just forget they exist.

Probably same goes for writing, too. Lol. Also it could be that I’ll dream up the entire (or mostly) of the story, but then getting it onto the page is hard. I want to work at getting better at that.

Do you do any non-fanart, too?

Sure. Although not often anymore, I’m honestly just inhumanly obsessed with Hugh and Paul.. Even when I start a project that isn’t centric to either or both of them… Often it will kind of morph into them. oops. 

I want to say yes to fic too...but That’s a project I haven’t worked on in fucking years and years, so I doubt that really counts anymore.

//end

Wow I am so sorry that was me just rambling on. Anyway, cool. Hi to anyone who made it this far.   I’ll also parrot the line of: Everyone who created/posted art, fic, gif-sets, vids, cosplay, etc., consider yourself tagged if you’d like to be. I’m curious! (I’m fucking serious, P L E A S E   D O.) 

[fusonzai]

Salvation through writing 2: Life goals and horny Frank Ocean

There’s a phrase in Japanese called Ikigai, it contains the character for living 生 and the character for worth 甲斐 combining to mean “reason for being’’. There’s a philosophy around it mainly dissected on Youtube about how Japan believes everyone has a job that they’re right for. You know you’re ‘doing Ikigai’ when you find a job nourishes your soul whilst benefiting society. Finding a job that you’re good at, you enjoy doing, something that benefits society and puts food on the table is the path to a fulfilling life.

This concept of Ikigai is applies to everyone. Not everybody wants to be a rich professional entrepreneur/snake oil salesman. Everybody has their own unique skillset, strengths and weaknesses that suit a variety of vocations. Ikigai asserts that some people genuinely enjoy and take satisfaction in performing tasks others might deem menial. Therefore, anybody can find their Ikigai; be it a janitor, bureaucrat or international hip hop artist.

After the decade defining album ‘Blonde’, Frank Ocean graduated from teenage melancholy and angst with a drip feed of more upbeat, confident tracks. In one of these tracks ‘In My Room’ he raps “got this lust for life in me, horny for the game,” and then precedes to wax lyrical about all his achievements and bravado. These post Blonde tracks have this maturity and confidence to them. If he was reminiscing about uncertainty and the teenage experience in Blonde, he was well and truly growing up now. Forging deeper connections and leaving deeper scars.

(In My Room cover art, I tried to recreate this shot and failed)

Frank Ocean writes music, he seems to enjoy it and he’s damn well good at it too. He profits from it and, if the amount of times Blonde appears on Best Album of the decade lists is any indication, his music is well received by society.

So, if Frank Ocean’s Ikigai is being horny for the game? What’s mine?

In 2014 I went through what is still up until this day the lowest point in my life. To begin with I’d graduated university with a useless degree and was having a very hard time finding any work relating to it all. My casual job had dried up,I wasn’t only wayward but poor now too. The final blow was realising I was romantically interested in my best friend’s sister, only to then be rejected and see them both fade from my life in quick succession.

I was alone, I was embarrassed, and I actively hated waking up every day. I dreaded consciousness itself. I didn’t want to think about anyone or anything. I’d dull myself with junk food and video games. Holed up in my room for 14 hours a day, trying to get to the gym or even take my dog for a walk was a challenge. I got to the point where I tried to make a schedule for myself. Really small goals like going for a walk or going to the gym. The hardest thing I had to do was watch an arthouse movie a day, and I couldn’t even manage that.

I was in this state and I felt I had nobody I could turn to. I didn’t know how to explain it to my friends my own age and I didn’t want my parents to worry any more than they were. Then I remembered a mature age student from university, who would always have this way of making me feel alright about life when we chatted. I still had his number from months prior and when I felt I was at breaking point, I called. He listened to my ramblings and even gave me part time work at his cafe. He then sincerely said to me that I should seek some professional help, be that counselling or psychiatry. I truly valued his opinion in that hearing this didn’t feel like something I could blow off. It felt like a shockwave. He was genuinely worried for my wellbeing. I owed it not only to myself but also to him to seek help. So I did exactly that.

I visited the doctor’s office I’d been going to for years (often with embarrassing issues) yet talking about my mental health felt leagues more difficult. He asked if I wanted to see someone that could prescribe me drugs or if I just wanted to see a psychologist. I recall jokingly saying something like ‘it wasn’t real depression so a psychologist would be fine.’ He didn’t smile or laugh and just gave me a referral.

I drove to Sunshine and attended my first session of five free counselling sessions.

Throughout these sessions, it was honestly hard to gauge if I got anywhere. After all, you’re just talking and it’s really your actions outside the room that facilitate the change. As we talked, the psychologist suggested that the cause of almost all my issues was not having a steady job and if I just got one of them, then I’d be fine. If I just filled my time with work, I’d be too busy to really think about everything else that mattered. He believed it was the joblessness that was causing all this; I needed to get out of the muck immediately. However, I was on the other end of the spectrum, I wanted to go down as far as I could. I had romanticised reaching some sort of true rock bottom because I thought then, and only then, could I build myself back up. The five free sessions ended and I was convinced I wasn’t ‘really depressed’ and stopped going after that. What I got out of it was that I needed to work.

While not knowing the full brunt of what was going on with me, my friends and family also encouraged finding some kind of permanent job. After some failed attempts and Centrelink lines, I struck gold. Through sheer luck I landed a full-time job at a pretty nice cafe. This wasn’t a career or some sort of path forward, it was a plug to stop the depression. I told myself if I’m working, then nearly all my problems would go away. I never stopped and asked myself why at the time though. Why am I working? Am I working towards something or just working?

(Blonded)

I’d hole myself up at the cafe for the next 2 years of my life. Those two years were pure autopilot. I didn’t have any goals, I was working five days a week, seeing my friends on my days off, rinse and repeat. The only thing I remember about this time was the vague goal of moving to Japan for a year; which eventually became a reality.

The word ‘brave’ got thrown around a lot when I told people I was leaving. I liked the compliment, but it didn’t sit right with me. By the time I was about to move, I’d spent the previous 3 years working almost exclusively with people who weren’t from Australia originally, or people who were here on working holiday visas. I was just doing the same as they were. Another language and a completely different culture didn’t make me brave all of a sudden. I wasn’t entering a new country with rose coloured glasses or illusions about what I was doing there.

(Back when study was a lot easier)

So I set off and spent a year bumbling around in Tokyo, being poor, having little breakdowns and locking myself away when it got too tough occasionally. This didn’t feel brave. I’d work in cafes and restaurants in the upper class areas of Tokyo, my bosses would tell me x person was famous for this and y person was famous for that. I’d see these excessive bills and displays of wealth every day and every night. I’d then ride the shabby elevator down to the staff room and get changed out of my uniform as I tried to figure out if I had enough cash to get a snack from the convenience store. I was doing the exact same thing as I was in Australia just with a different background, I wasn’t improving. There was no job trajectory. Another loop of nothing. Killing more time, I could have done this forever and fool myself into thinking it was alright because it had a different coat of paint.

So I left Tokyo.

I went North to Hokkaido, hoping to find something better, and for a time I did. It was a barista job like the others, but with opportunities to do more. I went from just making coffee to modelling, translating (badly), interpreting (also badly) and eventually roasting coffee. I felt on the up. I was getting pretty damn good at my job: bringing in people from overseas, helping my company forge new friendships and leave a mark on the Japanese coffee scene. After 18 months of hard work and study I finally had a working visa, a semblance of normalcy and a direction.

I began to envision myself in the future with an even better job and a better grasp of the language. I’d made friends and I could even see myself living in Japan permanently. Also, I was in love. Boy, was I convinced I was in love. This feeling just gripped me, overwhelmed my senses and completely rearranged my priorities. Up until now, such feelings had always been one-sided or unreciprocated. Although this time the feelings flowed both ways. I’d light up to see her name on my phone; we’d talk about the future for hours on end as I’d envision us growing old together. I’d imagine our families meeting for the first time, moving in together, getting engaged, getting married, having kids. Things that felt so foreign, now seemed obvious with her. I felt like I had at least figured out one aspect of my life by now; I had someone beside myself to strive for. I wanted to make a future not only for myself, but for us.

My life finally felt balanced, I was doing a job that I was good at it, I was making a living abroad and my personal life finally felt at peace.

Yet here’s the thing, I began to realise I wasn’t doing any of it right. I wasn’t as satisfied as I was tricking myself into thinking I was. To begin with, I couldn’t see myself doing this job for the rest of my life. The merit of it being a stepping stone onto something better also seemed farfetched now. I’d never get fully out of coffee while still being in coffee.

Once I realised how much this job wasn’t right for me anymore, I began to notice the red flags. The days felt more repetitive and repetitive, my higher ups got verbally abusive, and I didn’t stand up for myself. I was demoted and sent to work far off in a ski resort nobody else wanted to go to. Back to serving the people rich enough to be in a such a resort reminded me of how little I’d really done. I felt like I was back in Tokyo spinning my wheels. The distance of the resort also meant I went from seeing my friends almost every day to about once every couple of months. The isolation began to kick in.

At least I still had my relationship, right? Well, those feelings I wrote about; I fought myself in an attempt not to show them. I spent all of my energy trying to fight them at the time because I thought it was too much. I’d not reply to messages, be vague and try to pretend our relationship wasn’t all I thought about it. I had all of this inside me, wanting to show the world and my partner how I felt. Yet I never matured to that point; I never had the confidence to just say how I felt in the present.

Relationships can’t live on lies for long and before I knew it mine had slipped through my fingers as well.

(Shaved my head and flew to Tokyo for a $500 cup of coffee)

It was now the end of 2019: work was awful, I’d self-sabotaged a real relationship, and I was stuck in this ski resort doing nothing. I felt like I had done all this work only to end up back to where I’d started; I was looping. I seriously contemplated ending that loop. Unlike the way I was in 2014, I felt like I’d actually tried this time. I’d gotten out there, found work, found meaning, found substance. Yet it felt so moot. I felt like I’d done nothing for anyone around me except, at the least, inconvenience them, and at worst, hurt them. I was making the same mistakes, wasting my own time and everyone else’s. For the first time in years, I broke down crying on the phone to my close friend, just despairing over the futility of it all.

That spiral continued on through all of 2020. I made more mistakes. I revisited places I shouldn’t have and before I knew it, it was snowing, and I was back in the same damn ski resort. I knew something had to change, yet I was doing absolutely nothing about it. This mediocrity was crushing me spiritually, but I was safe inside the familiarity. I could do that job until I died.

I was back to being scolded from superiors, being disconnected from my friends (again) and most of all being dishonest to myself. People often say of life changing moments, things like ‘I knew at that moment what I had to do’ or ‘I decided then and there’. I’ve always stumbled in and out of life changing events, never quite prepared and never sure things are going to be as definitive as they become. This time though it felt different. I sat down with my boss and heard about his ideal future for me. I realised I wanted nothing to do with it. So I told him as much and fortunately, he understood.

Now, for the first time since leaving university I’m about to become unemployed.

Here’s what surprises me upon reflection. I’m not nervous about it at all. That huge sense of dread that accompanied me when I finished university isn’t here. Leaving on my own terms feels good. It feels empowering and often overwhelming, yet knowing I put myself into this situation makes me believe that it’s all going to be alright. There’s nobody nudging me to quit, I just know I’m done with this part of my life. I need to do more; I can do more. It’s imperative for my own health and for those around me that I do more. I know what my own hell looks like because I’ve been there for the last 18 months. It stands to reason that to get out of it I need to do the opposite of what I’ve been doing. There isn’t a blueprint to follow so much as there’s pages of journal entries guiding me on what not to do. I have one page in my diary that is just ‘I HAVE GIFTS AND I SQUANDER THEM’ written until the page ends.

Yet there’s something still lingering. A question I ask myself more and more often. Why though? Why do I need to do more? What am I working towards? What am I doing it for?

Self-help books, Instagram influencers and Jordan Peterson lectures talk about envisioning a future and then aiming for that, using an ideal future as something to strive for. Take a second, imagine what you would want if there was nothing stopping you (within reason), then make a plan, and strive for that. You can then categorise whatever you do on a daily basis as things that either help or hinder that ideal future. My problem with this is that I can’t write up an ideal future because I honestly don’t know what I want for myself. I’ve sat myself down on occasion and tried asking myself. I’ve been writing these pieces as a way to flesh thoughts out in an attempt to strike gold. There are things I’m interested in, but not all that good at, when I go to study them or get better, I don’t see an endgame to it. If I’ve got enough media, friends and a work life balance it seems I can keep sailing by, but I really want to know what is the point of heading any direction?

I can’t envision a future with me in it, let alone an ideal one where I’m ‘living my best life’. It is almost as if I have replaced my fear and anxiety about the future with ambivalence. Whereas I used to think about the future and break down, I now just think about it and refuse to believe it will ever happen. I don’t associate negative emotion with these thoughts, I just think it’s useful to observe them. Barring a miracle, I don’t think I’m going to wake up one day and never think these thoughts again. I oscillate between the above nihilism and this belief that I can do more, be better and improve myself. I’m writing in an attempt to reconcile such a contradiction.

We arrive back at Frank Ocean, his lust for life and Ikigai. While Frank seems to have taken time to work something out with himself, I’m still not quite there. I haven’t found my passion (horny for the game, in other words) yet given time I know I’ll be lusting for life, too. It’s a selfish journey for now, but it’s one that’s arguably made progress. I look back at 20-year-old me, slumped down on the kitchen floor bawling my eyes out, my dog trying to nudge her way into my face to see what’s wrong. I realise now that I was at that rock bottom I wanted to reach. I had zero clue about what to do with myself then and really no forward trajectory. Now I at least have some sense of where to go, obtained through mistakes, courage, and self-inquiry. It’s not the inspiring 180 that people like to read, but it’s an improvement nonetheless. I’m still figuring it out as I go. I can be certain of one thing, I’ll keep making mistakes. I can take those mistakes and turn them into progress. Little by little that progress may one day account for something amazing.